#the funeral scene gets me every time….her one friend gone. shes so alone and she laments the man he was and the comfort he gave her | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

henrywintersdearestgirl · 10 months

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Prologue

Hello, my darling doves

Suprise! The fanfiction began.

Before you dig into it… Yes, it is in a different timeline than the actual book, and not all things are same as in the book, but you will find out eventually:)

I hope you will like it and I’m always open to hear your opinions on it!

xoxo, Rosemary<3

warnings: none:) maybe alcohol use, but this is tsh so nobody really cares

summary: just some warming up

word count: 1.3k

Richard Papen, 1953

Some nights, I am still at that hotel. We all are. Charles with a gun in his hand, Camilla sobbing, Francis and I frozen, and Henry… Nearly smiling at the gun. The next events happened barely in a mere second. The screaming, the gunshots, the warm feeling in my stomach, the red wine and blood splashing. Henry lay dead on the floor, his pale face covered in blood. He was pronounced dead on the scene when the police arrived, while they were on their way Francis put a blanket on him, I don’t remember those moments very well. I only remember the blood on his face and his closed eyes. Francis was the only one who attended the funeral, I would have gone with him to Missouri, where he was getting buried, but I was laying in the hospital with a gunshot.

I never saw the twins ever again. Charles ran away and Camilla went silent. We nearly couldn’t care less about Charles after what he had done, but Camilla was a hard pill to swallow.

Me and Francis tried everything we could for a good while, brought her to the best psychiatrist, and we stayed with her patiently. Until she finally spoke to us again. But only a few words, she kindly asked us to leave her alone to deal with her grief, Henry or Charles, we never knew. We understood and left her alone like she asked. We tried our best to get our friend back and figured that she would contact us if she wanted to.

—

Me and Francis kept in touch over the years, calls and visits were engraved in our daily routines. He visited me in Chicago and I visited him in Boston. I analyzed literature and sometimes gave lessons in big named schools. Francis wrote detective books, he started writing them as a distraction and they blew up, people loved him. In the end, both of us were steady on our feet. I wasn’t in possession of a family fortune, but I became a bit wealthy myself.

However, there was one name we never dared to speak. Until today.

We were at Francis’s huge apartment, on the couch, whiskey in hand. We already drank a bottle of Irish whiskey. Suddenly he laughed to himself in a drunken manner. “What is it?” I laughed to myself too at his odd manner, the whiskey really managed to get in my head, I felt dizzy and floaty.

His laughing slowly went away and he stared at the maroon wall dreamily. “You know what I think about sometimes?” He looked at me with a sly foxy smile. “What if Henry never died?” I suddenly sat up and a little part of me was relieved that he said Henry’s name, he might have been drunk out of his mind but still. He knew Henry for a longer time than I did and his death was harder for him, he is also a sensitive fellow so that was not the greatest mix. I started snickering at his foolish question, but I stopped it when I saw his serious face, he was lost in thought.

“Francis? Where did this come from? We both watched him fall to the floor.” I tried studying his face, he wouldn’t look in my eyes.

“I know, I know. But those parts are so blurry, I barely remember how we got out of there. What do you remember from it?” He finally looked at me.

“Oh yeah, I remember every single little detail that happened. Especially the gunshot wound in my stomach and the blood oozing out of it!” He angered me a bit, the alcohol made the moment more dramatic than it actually was.

“Okay, I see your point…” He bit his lip, as if he was in distress. “What if he didn’t actually die? That was the last time we saw him and we got ushered out so quickly that we didn’t even register what hap—“

“Aren’t you a detective murder mystery writing novelist? Your mind is more creative day by day.” I point to his shelf, where he displayed the awards his books and stories won, in a joking manner. He was really good at what he was doing, no wonder everyone always begged for the new novel of his, even my students who I eventually taught from time to time.

He was not laughing, not appreciating my joke. I could see it in his eyes that he really was thinking. “Richard, have you ever seen him after that?”

“Weren’t you the one who sat through his whole funeral?!”

“It was a closed casket.” He shrugged.

“Closed casket?” I straightened up at the new information. “Didn’t he always say that he was going to have an open casket funeral?”

Francis’s eyes widened. “He did, because he wanted people to really see that all of us end up in the same way.” It was silent for a few minutes, until Francis turned to me. “Richard, if he could write his car to your name, then he could have had an open casket funeral. He wrote what he wanted for it when he was like sixteen, and the way he was looking at the gun?” We turned more serious by the second.

“Maybe he had a closed casket to spare Camilla?” I brought up my only explanation, but even I barely believed it.

“Camilla is not as weak as you think, and Henry was or is not that soft to change what he always believed in for a girl.” My biggest problem was that he actually made some sense, there was something about what he had said.

“So, let me get this straight. Henry may be alive and we didn’t think of this for five years?” I scoffed and turned to Francis. I put my hands on both of his shoulders and sighed deeply, as if I was a father who is about to tell a life lesson to his child. “Look Francis, I know that this Henry being alive and well alternative is way more sweeter, but it is not the truth and not the one we live in.”

“I know, but what if—“ He tried to interrupt me.

“No, no more what if’s… Henry is dead. We watched him shoot himself in the head and drop to the floor. You sat through his funeral, closed casket or not, he was in there. He is gone, Francis. Fuck… I wish he wasn’t, I wish we found a better way to deal with everything going on without anyone dying. I wish that Charles never came in with a gun in hand…” He had tears in his eyes from my little speech, maybe I did too, but I needed him to open up his eyes and see our sad truth.

He smiled sadly, a fat tear running down his freckled cheek. “I wish for anything that could have kept our group together…” he said as he stared into the crunching fire in the fireplace. I believe that in that moment he tried really hard for the first time to accept what we came to.

“We’re here now. Maybe up there, Bunny could give that goddamn slap back to Henry and even bang him in the head with his stupid latin diary.” I nudged his shoulder, trying to ease the tension. What I didn’t expect was a proper laugh from him. Half a genuine laugh, half a grieving sob.

“Yeah, you’re right… Thank you, Richard. For everything.” He lifted his glass and we clicked them together.

“To new beginnings.”

“To new fucking beginnings.”

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enchantedalyse · 1 year

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Elite Season 6: Post Watching Thoughts and Season Ranking List (SPOILERS)

After Samuel’s death in season 5 (and therefore the death of my favorite ship) I honestly wasn’t sure if I would continue with the show. I decided to give it a shot since I had some free time, and I’m actually glad that I did. I definitely think season 6 was the best of the post season 3 offerings. It got back to more of the core of what made the show popular. I also liked that the mystery wasn’t as obvious as the previous two seasons. I really loved the increase in friendship scenes as well. It was great to see everyone hanging out and supporting Isadora. So here are my initial thoughts, I’ll probably add on to this after having more time to think it through. Feel free to let me know your thoughts on this season and your season rankings as well!

I wanted Samuel’s death to have more of an impact. He was the main character since the beginning of the show, and they kinda just brushed past it. I wanted to see a funeral, his friends having a memorial for him, or something. I do think the fact that all the original characters/his friends were gone and no longer in the show impacted that choice, but I still wish it was handled differently (and didn’t happen at all). Also the fact that his killer was freed at the end was so upsetting, that man killed someone and he should pay for his crimes, not get his freedom back. Especially since Ari had finally gotten to a place to accept that what her father did was on purpose and not an accident, that if he had gotten Samuel help then he may still have been alive. Why does every character in this show get away with their crimes? Polo got away with killing Marina, Guzman got away with killing Armando, and Benjamin gets away with killing Samuel. No one is ever held responsible.

Isadora has taken the spot of my favorite character this season. I was kinda neutral on her character last season, but the same thing happened with Cayetana (I wasn’t her biggest fan in seasons 2-3, but loved her and her development in seasons 4-5. She became my favorite post Carla character). I think she also got the best storyline and character development this season as well. I really wanted her to get justice and revenge on the guys who hurt her and I’m glad that in the end she did. I also really like her friendship with Iván and hope we continue to see more of it next season. While this show doesn’t have the best track record with relationships (only one couple has ended up happy and together so far throughout the entire series) I did like her budding relationship with Didac and want to see more of it next season. I hope that in season 7 she gets to be happy, because she’s gone through a lot in seasons 5-6 and deserves it.

The final scene. I was surprised that they ended the season on an actual in the moment cliffhanger. I’m guessing that if anyone ends up getting killed it will be Didac’s brother Pau. If someone gets shot but survives, then I could see Didac being an option as well. It could technically also be some random student getting hit as well, since it happened in the school parking lot area. From what we heard/saw this season it seems like whatever business Pau is involved in is probably shady and not on the up and up, and likely the cause of this drive by shooting. Especially with Isadora’s mom originally meeting with him to discuss business, but then had him escorted/kicked out by security and fired Didac due to them being related. Whatever he was proposing she clearly wasn’t a fan of. It couldn’t just be that he was a potential competitor either, since she would have know that when agreeing to meet and talk business.

Lingering Questions/Thoughts:

• Can Iván and Isadora move in together? Iván is now all alone, while Isadora has been alone her whole life. I think them moving in together would be good and beneficial for both of them. I’m also a big fan of the found family trope.

• Why was no one bothered/upset about living or spending time at the house where Samuel was literally murdered? That was your classmate/friend/boyfriend and you’re all totally cool spending everyday and night at his murder site. Umm no, that should 100% bother all of them and they should have moved.

• Will Sara and Raul get away with their crime? Will being around Iván at school everyday lead to her feeling guilty and confess that she was the one driving the car? I don’t really see Raul admitting to anything though, he’d be more likely to put the entire blame/coverup on Sara.

• Who is responsible for the drive by shooting and did anyone get hurt or killed?

• How are they going to write Omar back into the show as a main character while making sure it makes sense to the plot? He won’t be back there to get revenge for Samuel’s death, since none of the Blanco’s are in season 7. He’s also no longer a student, so he wouldn’t be with the rest of the characters at school. He could get Cayetana’s old job as a cleaner there, or possibly work at Isadora’s club I guess.

My Season Ranking:

1. Season 2

2. Season 1

3. Season 3

4. Season 6

5. Season 4

6. Season 5

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sakura-83 · 3 years

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Things from Anne with an e that I feel like writing down

Season 1 Episode 6: Remorse Is the Poison of Life

1. Diana having to run through the dark with nothing but a lantern and quite reasonably tripping. I never really thought about how dark it would actually be out because there’s always light.., somewhere in a modern city. It’s dark but you can usually still see

2. Every time Anne and Diana are separated they end up reunited during some great tragedy and are like “I missed you so much!!” Like yeah that’s great but. Please focus

3. It’s terrifying how easily children could die before modern medicine. They still can die very easily and that’s still terrifying but back then there was no quick fixes or easily accessible help

4. “It’s an old wives tale.” “I might be one but not the other. Evidently one doesn’t have to be either thing to know it.”

5. Anne knowing how to treat croup because all of Mrs. Hammond’s sets of twins had it

6. “I was supposed to be a boy but when I wasn’t, they decided to keep and raise me.” “How extraordinary!”

7. Minnie May almost choking to death on her own phlegm and Anne ultimately saving her because there’s no way the doctor would’ve made it all the way from Soencervale in time

8. “I believe I need a brandy.”

9. It’s really interesting how much of the script comes straight from the book

10. “I’m so glad I live in a world where there are white frosts, aren’t you?”

11. John Blythe’s love for adventure and how Gilbert undoubtedly sees it in Anne

12. Eliza apologizing for how she misjudged Anne

13. “My darling Diana”

14. “I can’t tie myself down to anything so unromantic as dishes at this thrilling moment!”

15. “Even aunt Josephine said she’d like to see you again, and she doesn’t like anyone.”

16. “Shes disinclined to stay home alone since her companion passed away.” “Her companion?” “Her best friend forever and ever.”

17. “Aunt Josephine never married. Neither of them did, they lived with each other their whole lives.” “I’d live with you forever if I could. But I know you’ll leave me the date you get married to some wealthy and handsome gentleman. I hate him already.” “How’s Gilbert?”

18. “It’s very likely Gilbert’s father isn’t going to get well, so it’s more than possible that when Gilbert finally comes back to school… he’ll be an orphan.”

19. The cut from that conversation to John Blythe’s funeral

20. Matthew grabbing Marilla’s arm because he knows how much john meant to her

21. Gilbert watching the snowflakes melt in his hand

22. Marilla’s flashback

23. Young Marilla teasing john

24. Him giving her the same hair ribbon she later gifts to Anne

25. Anne and Gilbert being just like their parents, mirroring their romance and yet achieving the love Marilla and John could never have

26. Anne trying to make Gilbert feel better but making it seem like it’s about her. I often find it hard to articulate my relation to others in a way that does sound like I’m relating and not like I’m making it about me

27. Aunt Josephine on a stroll in the woods

28. Anne’s ranting about her “extensive knowledge of being an orphan”

29. Her calling Gilbert a dumb boy and refusing to think about him

30. “Romance is a pesky business. No sense to be made of it.”

31. “May I enter your humble abode.” About Anne’s run down little shed

32. “I couldn’t be less interested in Gil- that boy!”

33. “Let your ambitions and your aspirations be your guide.” “But I have so many!”

34. “I’ve always wanted to be a bride, but I don’t really expect to be a wife.�� “Interesting!” “So you see the conundrum.” “I do. I have the following thoughts to offer. First, you can get married any time in your life, if you choose to do so.” “That’s true-“ “And two, if you choose a career, you can buy a white dress yourself, have it made to order and wear it whenever you want.” “Why didn’t I think of that!? I love that idea! I’m going to be my own woman!” “I’m a proponent for making ones own way in the world.”

35. “If you become a doctor, perhaps you can discover a cure for old age.”

36. Anne calling aunt Josephine her new role model, as well as Marilla and Matthew

37. “I’m going to be the heroine of my own story.”

38. Marilla finding an old letter from John

39. The theme Unrequited Love playing during this scene

40. It’s fascinating when you come to recognize the instrumentals by name, the names actually have a lot of double meanings in relation to the show. Fire in The Town not only plays when there’s an actual fire, but also when Anne’s rumors about prissy set the town ablaze

41. “If the key to a mans heart is through his stomach-“ “Which it is!” “Then, we have to make sure that this is the best shepherds pie that Gilbert has ever had.”

42. Anne wanting a boy to loved for her brain and personality rather than her abilities to keep a home

43. “Don’t you think Gilbert looks even more handsome now that he’s sad?” “I didn’t notice.”

44. I just noticed aunt Josephines mourning clothes, I know she was grieving but I didn’t put two and two together

45. “Take the boy the godforsaken pie before I suffer a mental collapse.”

46. Anne rambling excitedly about Jane Eyre.

47. Anne almost spoiling the book, just like Gertrude used to do

48. Anne suddenly breaking down over death. I’ve done that before, far more frequently in middle school when I realized that we all die someday

49. “It must be awful beyond measure to lose someone that you love deeply. In a split second, a heartbeat, they’re gone forever… and there is nothing you can do to change it or bring them back…”

50. “Anne? You’re crying on the potatoes.”

51. “There’s nothing wrong with saying ‘I’m sorry for your loss’, Ruby. And I’m going to say it because I am.” “You’re just going to make it worse if you say that. His father!! Just died!!!” “That’s what people say when someone dies.” “I don’t want you to upset him.” “He’s already upset because his father just died!”

52. “We hope you like shepherds pie.” “Everyone LIKES shepherds pie 😡. We hope it’s a comfort to you, Gilbert.🥰”

53. Anne telling “but I would make a terrible wife!” And running out.

54. Matthew offering to help Gilbert get his farm back in order

55. Gilbert not wanting to be a farmer but having an entire farm shoved off on him when his only family does, despite being… 14 at most? 15 maybe?

56. Matthew losing all his crops when the Dal Marie sank

57. Billy wanting Gilbert back to control the “ugly orphan” and Gilbert defending Anne

58. “She’s smart, deal with it.”

59. Gilbert telling billy to read a book for once

60. “I’ll give you a tip, okay? I’m not your bud. And if you ever hassle Anne again, you’ll regret it.”

61. “What’s your problem?” “Ask me that again. No, seriously. Go ahead.” “Why you gotta be like that?” “Ask me!” “…what’s your problem?”

62. Gilbert throwing his stuff at billy to preoccupy his hands and THEN punching him straight in his stupid face

63. The boys are fighting!!!! And rolling around in the snow too that’s kind of funny looking

64. Gilbert beating billy in that fight

65. Marilla telling Gilbert about his father

66. All of Gilbert’s siblings died

67. Gilbert’s father taking him to Alberta before he died, where Gilbert was born

68. “You resemble him in many ways.”

69. “He asked you to go?” I’ll always be grateful to him for thinking I’d be brave enough. Obligation… can be a prison.”

70. Anne trying to write a letter to Gilbert apologizing for what she said

71. Anne visiting aunt Josephine for advice and accidentally interrupting her grieving

72. “Emotion is rarely convenient and often intolerable, but I find at the moment that I don’t mind it.”

73. “Grief is the price you pay for live, you see. So it’s alright.”

74. “You and I are not the marrying kind.” “Ah, but I was, in my way. And we had a full and wonderful life together, and I gave no regrets. That’s all you really have to decide Anne, to live a life without regrets.”

75. Anne kissing aunt Josephine on the cheek and running off to live said life

76. No Matthew don’t make that loan deal!!!

77. Anne sprinting to Gilbert’s house bit for the first time of many to come, being too late to reach him.

#anne with an e #renew awae #awae #anne shirley cuthbert #gilbert blythe #josephine barry #marilla cuthbert #mathew cuthbert #diana barry

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egcdeath · 3 years

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checkmate

summary: you’ve always refused to lose, and love was no exception. (gone girl-ish au)

pairing(s): ransom drysdale x dark!reader, a special mystery guest ;)

word count: 3.7k

warnings: 18+ because of heavy themes! faked death, framing of crimes, manipulation, alluding to sex, alluding to cheating, terrible relationship dynamic, very loose usage of the word crazy/psychotic, implied mention of self harm, brief choking & slapping (in a non sexual way lol), pregnancy trapping (idk if thats the right term), the reader is a very bad human being, overuse of italics *please let me know if i’m missing any warnings!

author’s note: this is my 2nd submission for @stargazingfangirl18’s 5k soft dark challenge, i decided to make the reader dark >:) but ransom is also not a good person. I used these prompts: “I’ve waited a long time for this, sweetheart.” & The town golden *girl isn’t as sweet as everyone thinks.

this is definitely the most unhinged thing i’ve ever written, but blame @literate-lamb for making me write this because when i pitched this to her and said that i’d probably never write it, she enabled me.

okay that's enough from me. join my taglist if you want :D

“I know women whose entire personas are woven from a benign mediocrity. Their lives are a list of shortcomings: the unappreciative boyfriend, the extra ten pounds, the dismissive boss, the conniving sister, the straying husband. I've always hovered above their stories, nodding in sympathy and thinking how foolish they are, these women, to let these things happen, how undisciplined. And now to be one of them! One of the women with the endless stories that make people nod sympathetically and think: Poor dumb bitch.” Gillian Flynn, Gone Girl

Your whole life, you’d considered yourself a competitive person. Constantly overcompensating for one thing or another, whether it was the chronic desire to achieve perfection that had been installed in you since you were a little girl, or your persistent internalized sense of inadequacy. You realized early on that it was much better for you to win than for you to lose, no matter the physical, emotional, or mental cost of the prize of perfection.

For the most part, this mindset worked out for you. You graduated as Valedictorian from your high school, neared the top of your graduating class at Harvard. God knew you earned it, all those tears you shed into overpriced textbooks, all the popping of unprescribed Adderall, and robbing yourself of the parties and social events that the rest of your peers gladly indulged in.

You were just different, which was why you gained a job nearly immediately after your exit from school, quickly climbing to the top at the Blood Like Wine publishing company after only a few years of being there.

And one night, at the party celebrating the release of A Thousand Knives when you laid your eyes on Hugh Ransom Drysdale, the grandson of your boss, you knew that you needed to have him. Rich, hot, a bit of an asshole. You deserved to finally complete your image, and that socialite flavored eye candy seemed to fit the part perfectly. Luckily for you, he was desperate. It only took a few tugs on your dress’ V-line, and a number of knowing smirks to find yourself being finger-banged in his family manor’s bathroom.

From there, you wormed your way into his life. Leaving belongings at his place as an excuse to come back, and offering booty calls in the middle of the night. Ransom must’ve been much more desperate than you originally thought, as it really only seemed to take one night of stroking his hair while he vented about his family to make him want to be with you. Men with mommy issues were always so easy.

Except, he wasn’t that easy. The longer you got to know Ransom, the more fucked up you realized he really was. He had no boundaries at all, became jealous and enraged at the drop of a pin, and occasionally told you things that made the hairs on your arms rise.

This of course all came to a head after the night of Harlan’s 85th birthday party. When the news broke of his tragic death, you’d immediately known it was the works of your Hugh. If your intuition wasn’t enough, his confession in the shower, where he’d demanded you take off your clothes to display that you were without a bug, certainly was.

You were completely devastated. The man that you’d invested so much into for years had thrown both his and your reputations down the drain in just a matter of hours. Of course, you felt bad for Harlan too. He was a good guy (when he wasn’t instigating a family fight).

Still, you showed up during the funeral in your best mourning clothes and dawning your biggest crocodile tears. You rubbed Linda’s back while she mourned the loss of her father, and the new truth about her husband. You played dumb when interrogated by some Southern private investigator, even giving Ransom an airtight alibi. You testified on his behalf in court with enough conviction to grant you an Emmy.

You’d gotten so far, devoted so much energy into him, that you simply refused to lose now.

To your friends, you’d seemed to lead a near perfect life. Dream job, dreamy boyfriend, dream bank account, but it wasn’t enough. You wanted more, you just didn’t know what.

It dawned on you while sipping mimosas at the country club, Ransom playing tennis with his friends just a few yards away from you while Danielle showed off her brand new engagement ring, a .59 Carat Asscher Diamond, that if you heard her speak of again, would probably make you lose your shit.

You zoned out as she droned on and on about the shape, and how Matt proposed to her in their own private room in one of the most exclusive Parisian restaurants, instead focusing on how you could find yourself in the same position as that airhead next to you. In all honesty, you couldn’t stand the idea that someone was doing better than you, let alone someone in your own social circle. Dani got all the bragging rights of being engaged to the heir of some tech giant, being the first in your friend group to get eloped, and worst of all, Matt wasn’t even making her sign a prenup.

You blankly watched Ransom from afar, taking occasional sips from your sweet drink, while you thought of how you deserved all of that and more, and you were going to get it one way or another.

——

It didn’t take much to come up with something, your first and most obvious plan being to simply ask Ransom when he was going to propose to you. Of course, this wasn’t the first time you’d tried to approach him about this subject, you just wondered if maybe this time things would be different.

Panting heavily after a rather rough night in bed, you rolled off of your boyfriend’s chest and gave him a messy, yet sincere kiss. You knew your man well, and if there was any time to pop the question, it was in his post-nut haze.

“Baby,” you said breathily, “I wanna ask you something.”

“Shoot,” he responded casually, glancing over at you.

“When’re you gonna propose to me?” you hummed.

Ransom groaned and shook his head, rolling his eyes, “this is about Matt and Dani, huh?” he tutted, then extended a hand out to your warm cheeks so he could gently caress one with his thumb. “Thought we agreed marriage is just a piece of paper and it’s stupid.”

You huffed in response.

Of fucking course.

“I never said that,” you muttered, setting a hand on his broad chest. “Besides, it’ll be good if you get pissed and decide to like, kill your dad or something. Y’know, spouses don’t have to testify against each other in court.”

Ransom chuckled as if this whole thing was funny, like your feelings were some kind of sick joke to him. “You know my lawyers, babe. They could prove that bees don’t make honey. That bears don’t shit in the forest. I appreciate your attempt, though. This has been some really nice pillow talk.”

“Whatever,” you muttered, pinching his nipple in retaliation before turning your back to him and yanking the blanket onto your side.

You weren’t sure why you were so surprised that he was being stubborn, most of the time you felt like you were pulling teeth from the man. But that’s why you had a backup plan! You always had a backup plan. That’s what separated you from your boyfriend. Where Ransom was extemporized and impulsive, you were calculating and prudent.

Although you devised your plan that very afternoon while watching your partner backhand small green balls, you were going to need some time to get everything in order, to prove Murphy and his stupid law wrong in making sure that everything that could go wrong wouldn’t.

After all, love was a game. And you sure as hell weren’t losing to Hugh Drysdale.

——

You sacrificed too much to have your plans ruined by some trust fund baby with impulsivity issues. You deserved your dream marriage, the stability you wished you had as a child. You wanted the white picket fence, and everything that came along with it. Your desire to be the best, to be perfect was what drove you to poke holes in every condom in the box, what led you to draw liters of your own blood in hopes of staging a fake crime scene, to buy a cheap getaway car and burner phone off of Craigslist, and reach out to a high school boyfriend who you knew was in a position as desperate as you.

You planted seeds of doubt in your friends throughout the following weeks, feeding them lies about Ransom’s behavior, how you were afraid of telling him that you did in fact see two faint red lines on that damn plastic stick– only half of the statement truly being false–, telling them that he was behaving erratically lately.

It all was going without a hitch. Ransom didn’t seem to notice anything was off, despite your frequent visits to the bathroom and newfound affinity for true crime documentaries.

You almost felt guilty, knowing the world of pain you were about to throw the man into. Granted, he deserved the pain. You were in a relationship with a genuinely terrible person, and that person had made a conscious effort not to commit to you. You tried to make this easy for him, give him a chance to say a few words to you and slide a ring on your finger, but no, he always seemed to take the hard route.

You slept like a baby the night before you were setting your plan in action. You made sure to uphold the facade of everything being fine, making Ransom a nice breakfast before sending him halfway across town to the hardware store with an oddly incriminating list.

Once he was out of the house, you hurried off to the fridge in the garage where you’d been keeping a small stash of your own blood. It wasn’t pretty, but it had to be done. You poured the blood throughout the kitchen, splattering bits of it on the counters and cupboards. You poorly cleaned the mess, just as he would.

You put your next move in motion, falsifying a home invasion. You tossed over a table and some chairs, throwing books and photos onto the floor, but left some aspects slightly untouched, like an upright picture frame to give yet another hint that things were not exactly what they appeared.

You left a tiny blue post-it note on the nightstand of Ransom’s side of the bed, a quick and simple doodle of a ring along with the first initial of your name inked onto the tiny piece of paper.

With that, you were off. Technically missing, soon-to-be presumed dead.

----

The days following your disappearance had gone even better than you’d initially planned. Local news coverage had been all over you, search and rescue groups were assiduously looking for you, your parents had opened a tip line, and begged for you to get home safe on news segments. But the best part of it all was that Ransom had been briefly found himself in police custody, only to be released shortly thereafter. His past of an accused murder quickly made your disappearance even more of a national story, and you watched the whole thing unravel from the safety and comfort of your high school boyfriend, Andy Barber’s Newton home.

Of course, you fed him the same lies you’d given to your friends, and seeing the rather lonely position he was in, he gladly let you stay with him. You were absolutely having a hay-day with it all, dedicating hours of your day to watching Ransom slowly unravel. Maybe it was a bit sadistic of you to enjoy torturing your partner so much, but he needed to learn his lesson. You deserved better. You needed Ransom to rise up to your level, allowing you to finally complete your image. To let you two appear to be the perfect couple. Really, this was all on him.

Andy, for the most part, had been a good host. He was gone for the majority of the day, dedicating himself to his work while you lounged around on his dangerously cozy couch. Around two weeks into your stay, you were sharing a box of pizza in the living room with your old lover when something interesting on the television caught your eye.

Ransom, broadcasted on CBS, being interviewed on your disappearance.

You watched with wide eyes as Ransom begged for your return on national television. It was one thing seeing your mother plead for you to come back, the same woman who had installed such toxic behavior in you sob for your return, but Ransom. You’d never loved him more than in that moment.

“Hugh, if you could tell Y/N one thing, what would it be?” the interviewer asked.

Ransom turned, looking straight at the camera, directly into your soul, “Y/N, I love you so much. More than you’ll ever know. I need you to come back safely, to see you, to hold you again. I’d give anything in the world for that right now,” he looked down, a tear falling down his cheek. “I can’t live without you in my life, I-”

His sentence was cut off by Andy grabbing the remote, and turning off the TV. You turned your head and frowned deeply at him.

“Why’d you do that?” you asked with a bit of a pout.

“I just couldn’t stand listening to him talk about you like he hasn’t treated you like shit for the past few years. C’mon, let’s get ready for bed.”

Your blood boiled. Andy was once a means to an end, but now he was interfering. He was clearly much too selfish to see that you and Ransom were quite obviously soulmates. A match made in hell.

You followed him to bed regardless, curling up on what had been your side of the bed for the past few days, and staring at the wall until Andy’s breaths moved from a soft and rhythmic pattern to loud snores. God, those snores were obnoxious.

You slipped out of bed and to his dresser, grabbing two soft ties from the drawer, and daintily tying his wrists to each side of the bedpost.

“What‘re you doing?” he mumbled, instinctively yanking both of his wrists as he awoke.

“I’m going back home,” you whispered.

“You can’t be serious,” Andy huffed, tugging on the restraint attached to the headboard.

You shook your head, “I am.”

“I should’ve known. Why would you do something like this? Do you know how much trouble you’ll be in with the law?”

“Do you know how much trouble you’ll be in when the world finds out that you kidnapped me?” you retorted.

This threat seemed to wake him up right away, “what about this was kidnapping? I gave you a nice home, fed you, I didn’t even make a pass at you. I didn’t do shit to you,” he hissed. “You think I can’t prove that? I’m a lawyer, for god's sake!”

You nearly laughed, “Okay, Andy,” you paused for a moment, “As a lawyer, who do you think everyone’ll believe? Someone who the world was on a wild goose chase for in the last two weeks? Or the man with a family history of violence? Must I remind you that your father and your son have killed people?”

Andy shook his head, face pinched in sorrow at the mention of his deceased son, clearly a low blow. “You’re insane,” he muttered.

“Swear to god that you won’t tell a soul what happened here,” you leaned over him, getting right in his face. “Or I promise, Andrew Barber, I will ruin you. You’ll spend the rest of your life behind bars, or disbarred, or whatever the hell I decide to do with you. So keep your goddamn lips shut.”

You pulled away and he solemnly nodded, not bothering to put up a fight. You loosened the fabric around his left wrist and walked out of the room. You picked up the keys to Andy’s Audi on your way out, checking the time as you adjusted the driver's seat.

9:45 PM. Fatherhood really changed the man.

You pushed that thought aside and began your drive home, which turned out to be a surprisingly short trip. When you pulled up in front of your home, you were met with a slew of reporters outside of the house, along with a police car that seemed to be permanently camped there.

As you slowly got out of the car, a gasp, followed by a loud silence fell across the crowd. You limped for dramatic effect up the driveway as cameras followed you, and glanced back at them pathetically. From your peripheral view, you noticed the officers get out of their vehicle.

You finally got to your door, ringing the doorbell and waiting. You blinked harshly a few times, conjuring up the tears you needed to really make a spectacle of the event. After a few minutes, Ransom opened the door, eyes widening as he looked at you. He stepped out, and you wrapped him in as big of a hug as you could manage, genuinely missing his embrace. It was possible that you even let out a few real tears in the moment.

Your emotional embrace was interrupted by the man you recognized as Lieutenant Elliott, the same officer who’d been assigned to Harlan’s case.

“Ma’am,” he began, only to be shut down by you.

“Please, just let me be with my boyfriend,” you pleaded, crocodile tears streaming down your face as you spoke with the officer. You still needed time to get your story straight.

“Just give us the night, Lieutenant. We’ll come in first thing tomorrow morning,” Ransom added, furrowing his brows at the officer that he’d come into contact with far too many times.

He looked to his partner, who shrugged, then to you, “enjoy your night.”

Cameras flashed around you as civilians, journalists, and newscasters alike attempted to catch your attention. You grabbed Ransom’s hand and dramatically pulled him inside, insincerely attempting to hide your face by ducking and covering half of your face with your arm.

As soon as you were in the privacy of your own home, Ransom threw you against a wall.

“Why. The fuck. Would you pull a stunt like that,” he hissed through gritted teeth, eyes wild, and a hand around your throat.

You whimpered as he tightened his grip, rage clearly flowing through his system uncontrollably.

“Do you know what you did to me? You almost had me thrown in fucking jail. Do you understand that?”

You nodded weakly, “Ran,” you whispered, “the baby,” you glanced down at your stomach.

He paused, dropping his grip on your neck and staring at you in awe, “no…”

You nodded again.

“How…? You told me you were on the pill… You- you made me use protection…”

“Surprise?” you said weakly.

“You’re a psychotic bitch.”

“I’m your psychotic bitch. And no child of mine will be born out of wedlock,” you taunted.

“That’s what this is about?” Ransom laughed manically. “You did this all because I won’t fucking marry you?”

You didn’t even have to respond.

“I should send you to the loony bin right fucking now.”

“What happened to all those things you said to me on TV?”

“You’re fucking delusional. I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can. And you will. I’ve had to put up with you and your stupid little antics for way too long. How do you think I felt when you killed your own grandfather?”

Ransom scoffed, throwing his hands up in exasperation, “you are so fucked up.”

“I’m the fucked up one? You killed your own blood in cold blood! You’re unhinged!”

“You faked your own death for attention, and got pregnant while doing it! Is that baby even mine?”

“The fuck are you trying to say, Hugh?”

“I asked if it’s even mine.”

“Really. You’re accusing me of cheating on you. That’s rich considering Mia, Layla, and whoever the fuck else. You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m being ridiculous? You couldn’t have a normal adult conversation with me!”

“Are you kidding me? I asked you time after time to marry me and it was always some bullshit excuse!” you wagged a finger in his face as you spoke. “Oh, commitment scares me, oh, marriage is just a piece of paper, oh-“ you mocked his voice in a deeper tone before you were cut off by the sting of his hand against your cheek.

“Can you shut the hell up?” he growled at you as you held your own cheek, before you reached out and slapped him back, “I can’t believe that I’m stuck with such a deranged bitch for the rest of my life.”

“Maybe work on your vows a little, dear. I don’t think that those words are as charming to me as they’d be to the rest of our family and friends.”

“You can’t be serious,” he groaned.

“But I am,” you hummed, rubbing your cheek softly once again. “Look at how fast your life fell apart without me here. How quickly the public turned on you. Imagine how upset they’d be if you left me. I love you, Ran. I really do. You and I are perfect for each other, can’t you see that now?”

Ransom took a step away from you, pacing slowly in front of you. He ran a stressed hand through his hair, and took a long and drawn out breath, clearly at a loss for words.

“So when should we have the wedding? I’ve always wanted a Spring wedding, and I know it’s a little short notice, but I don’t want to be showing too much in my wedding dress,” you grabbed Ransom’s bicep gently, as if you were just having a regular old day with him, as if you hadn’t been choked and slapped moments ago. “But we can make it work. We always make it work, right?”

Your now fiancé stared vacantly at the wall ahead of him, giving you a slow, empty nod of agreement.

“It’s settled then,” you smirked. “I’ll start looking at venues. You find me a nice ring, okay Honey? One that puts all those other bitches’ rings to shame,” you sighed pleasantly to yourself, “I’ve waited a long time for this, sweetheart.”

You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek before hurrying up the stairs and into your bedroom. You heard a distant shriek of “fuck,” from Ransom, but you truly could not care less.

You hopped into bed, grabbing your laptop from its charger and promptly opening it. You couldn’t help but to smile at your own reflection on the empty black screen. This wasn’t how you imagined your engagement, but you did the impossible. You tied yourself down to Hugh Ransom Drysdale, he went down kicking in screaming, and you were likely in for a lifetime of cheating and resentment, but you did it nonetheless.

You finally won.

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #dark!reader #ransom drysdale x dark!reader #ransom thrombey x reader #ransom thrombey x you #knives out #knives out fanfic #siris5ksoftdarkchallenge

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fireinmoonshot · 3 years

Text

SPIDER | BUCKY BARNES x READER | PART FIVE

CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER.

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR Summary: Bucky doesn’t know what to make of you when he meets you. You’re friends with Sharon, and you seem pretty easy to read on the surface. But the more time he spends with you, the more he seems to uncover, and the more he becomes tangled in the web you unwittingly weave. Pairing: female!Reader x Bucky Barnes Fandom: Marvel / The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Word Count: 2,501 Warnings: SPOILERS FOR THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER. A/N: I had honestly intended to squeeze the rest of Episode 4 into this part but this one particular scene ended up being longer than I’d expected it to be, so I decided to put it all into one part and I’ll just do the rest in another part. Especially because this particular scene is quite important to the relationship between Bucky and reader. Thank you once again for reading and do let me know your thoughts!

The plan had been simple. The four of you were going to head to Donya’s funeral and try and talk to Karli. Sam had spoken to Sharon – you’d been a little annoyed that you hadn’t been able to talk to her, though you’d pushed that to the side for now – and settled on a plan.

Not too long after your conversation with Bucky, you’d left Zemo’s apartment to head to the location of the funeral. And then you’d turned a corner and spotted the unmistakable suit of blue and red. The wannabe Captain America had found you.

“Karli Morgenthau is too dangerous for you guys to be pulling this shit!” Walker calls, heading down a flight of stairs at speed towards you. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen the man in person and honestly, you’re not phased by him. Even when you’d seen Steve Rogers on TV, it was obvious how different he was, how special. To you, John Walker seems like nothing more than someone trying to be something that they aren’t. It irritates you to see him in the suit.

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Ah! How’d you find us now?”

Despite the fact that there were several people on the street, attention hadn’t been on you before. Now that Captain America was here, and yelling at that, every single set of eyes was on you. You shrink a little at the attention, shoving your hands deep into the pockets of your coat and shuffling a little closer to Bucky and Sam.

Bucky notices and moves closer to you unintentionally.

Lemar chuckles. “Come on. You really think two Avengers can walk around Latvia without drawing attention?”

“We were certainly doing fine before now,” you mutter.

“No more keeping us in the dark,” Walker continues. “You could start by telling us why you broke him out of prison. And who the hell this new chick is and why she’s with you. Last I checked, she’s not an Avenger.”

Bucky stands a little taller. “He did that himself, technically. And she’s a friend, not a chick. That’s all you need to know about her.”

“Oh, this better be an unbelievable explanation!”

Sam steps up and holds a hand up to stop Walker as the two groups finally come together. “Hey, take it easy before it gets weird.”

Walker looks pissed off. Honestly, you feel the same way.

“I know where Karli is,” Zemo steps up. He says the words, figures that they’re all he needs to get by and starts to go around Walker, intending to lead the way. Instead, Walker stops him.

“Well, where?”

“All we know is, it’s a memorial. So we’re gonna intercept her there.”

You look past Zemo and spot one of the children he’d been speaking to earlier watching you all anxiously. The sight of her makes you want to throw a punch Zemo’s way, and you hate that he made this innocent child trust him so easily. Bucky can sense the change in you. He nudges your shoulder with his and you snap to look at him. He doesn’t need to say anything for you to understand what he means.

“That means civilians. High risk of casualties,” Lemar adds.

“All right, good, we’ll move in fast. Take her by surprise.”

You roll your eyes. “Good? How is that good?”

Bucky snorts.

Sam ignores both of you. “No, I wanna talk to her alone.”

“I’m not losing her again,” Walker shakes his head.

“Look, the person closest to her died, she’s vulnerable. If there’s any time to reason with her, it’s now,” Sam argues.

The words strike a chord with Walker. He hurries ahead in front of all of you, forcing you to stop. “What? No. Wait, no! No! Stop. Hold on. Stop, okay? I think we’re way past reasoning with her, unless you forgot that she blew up a building with people still in it.”

Lemar agrees. “Sam, you walk in there cold, she could kill you.”

“And if I go in hot and the op goes wrong, more people will die.”

You step forward. “Then I’ll go in. Karli doesn’t know who the hell I am, and maybe it’d help – woman to woman, you know? And hey, if something goes wrong and I die, at least it’s not an Avenger dying at her hands. It’s just me.”

Bucky’s head snaps up at your words. Fear strangely spikes in his veins that you’d even suggest that and he shakes his head instantly. “No. No way are we sending you in there alone.”

“I mean, it’s not a bad idea,” Walker admits with a shrug of his shoulders. “Look at the alternative. You letting your partner walk into a room with a Super Soldier alone. Would you really let him do that?”

“He’s dealt with worse. And he’s not my partner.” He says straight-faced. “And she is not going in there either. It’s a damn bad idea and we all know it is.” He turns to you. “You included.”

Sam sighs and walks past the both of you so he’s face to face with Walker. “I used to counsel soldiers dealing with trauma, okay? This is right in my wheelhouse.”

“Yeah, I know. And I know those soldiers, which is why I know this is a bad idea. That’s why it’s a better idea to send the girl in there – like she said, it’s better her dying than an Avenger, right?”

You see Bucky take a step forward out of the corner of your eye and twist to stand in front of him before he can get to Walker, a hand going out in front of you and resting on his chest. You push him gently. “Don’t, Bucky.”

“You’re not going in there.”

He feels protective. He doesn’t know why, but Sam has an idea. He watches the two of you, sees something pass between you, and furrows his eyebrows. He hadn’t seen it coming, that’s for sure. Hadn’t seen you to be the one to bring out the ever protective side of Bucky Barnes that Sam really hasn’t seen in a long time. He hadn’t seen Bucky acting this way over anyone. And yet here you were, days after meeting him, making Bucky fear for your life on your behalf. Sam doesn’t know what to think.

Bucky lets out a long, shaky breath and then finally looks at you and meets your eyes, tearing his glare away from Walker. “You’re not going.”

“Okay, fine,” you relent, voice soft. “I won’t go in there.”

He steps back and nods, trying to calm himself down, and you step away from him, not wanting to crowd him too much after your apparently bad idea. You hadn’t expected him to react so much. In fact, you’d expected Sam to be all for the idea, and for Bucky to go along with it. Even if he was starting to trust you, his reaction to your suggestion had been entirely surprising. You stare down at the cobblestoned street beneath your feet and frown. What was he thinking? And why had he reacted that way?

“John,” Lemar starts, once he senses the tension has gone down a little. “If Sam can talk her down, it might be worth a try. And since we’ve just established that she’s not going in there…”

Walker and Sam share a look before Walker finally gives up. He looks over at Zemo. “We’ll deal with you later.”

“I’m sure it will all come to an agreeable conclusion. My associate is just up ahead.” Zemo points to the child and begins the walk towards her again.

You, unwillingly, follow him. Bucky makes sure he stays close to your side, as if he’s afraid that you’re going to run off and do something reckless. You doubt he’d let you get the chance.

A few minutes into the walk, he finally talks to you. But his voice is quiet. You’re walking at the back of the group and he doesn’t want anyone else to hear. “Why would you even suggest going in there to talk to Karli?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” You frown. “It seemed like the best idea.”

He shakes his head. “You dying is not a good idea.”

“What does it matter, anyway? I said it. I’m not an Avenger. It was a good idea. And I think it could have worked if you’d let me. No one would miss me.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows. “Yeah, I find that hard to believe.”

“No, it’s true!”

“What about Sharon, huh? She’d miss you.”

You kick at a loose stone on the road. “She hasn’t even spoken to me since I left.”

“What about me, then?”

His question takes you by surprise. “You?”

He nods. “Yeah, what about me?”

“You would miss me?” You could laugh. “Sure. You barely know me.”

Bucky feels weirdly irritated by your words. He knows you, he thinks. He knows that he likes you. That you understand him better than any stranger he’s met recently. He knows that you scare him a little bit. That your way of thinking, of reacting, of simply being sets him on edge and makes him feel right at home all at the same time. He clears his throat, tries to come up with an answer that isn’t conspicuous and settles on: “I think I know enough about you to know that I’d notice when you’re not here.”

“That’s not the same thing as missing, Bucky.”

He opens his mouth to reply just as Zemo announces that you’ve arrived and the two of you are forced to pause your conversation. The child leads you into the back entrance of an old building and then disappears. No one questions the location.

As soon as you’re inside, your conversation with Bucky is long forgotten and the mission takes first place. Sam goes off on his own, heading further in while Walker handcuffs Zemo and claims that Sam has ten minutes before you do this his way.

You sidle up to Bucky. “Can I punch him now, or do you want the honour?” You mutter, only loud enough for him to hear. He smirks at your words, though you can see he’s still obviously on edge by the whole situation.

And not just by the situation. Because of you, too. Though you don’t need to know that, Bucky thinks. That, he can just keep to himself.

After a few minutes of silence, Bucky heads towards the stairs that Sam had gone up and leans on the railing, as if guarding the entrance. You suppose he probably is, not wanting Walker to get past him, and decide to settle down on the steps themselves, adding another barrier between Walker, Sam and Karli despite the fact that you’re honestly probably not much of a barrier compared to Bucky.

It doesn’t take long for Walker to get on your nerves. He’s clearly anxious about Sam wanting to simply reason with Karli instead of kill her on sight. He’s staring at the shield – the very shield that Bucky wants to steal – and you briefly wonder how he’s going to do it. Simply by the way Walker is holding it, you know he’s not going to give it up easily. He holds it tight, like it’s the most important thing in the world to him, and you feel like it probably is.

He starts pacing less than ten minutes after Sam leaves.

“Uh-uh. No, no, no. This is a bad idea,” he mumbles as he walks.

“It hasn’t been ten minutes, John. Just sit tight,” Bucky offers.

Walker speaks with venom in his voice. “Don’t do that. Don’t patronise me.”

“He knows what he’s doing.” Bucky is unaffected.

Tension rises in the air between all of you once again, as it always seems to do when Walker is around. It’s been a constant state of tension ever since he joined you.

He walks towards the end of the room, pauses for a moment, and then you can see the way his face changes. He hoists the shield higher, and then walks at speed towards you and Bucky. “I’m going in.”

Bucky stands up and stops him with a hand to his chest.

Walker, surprisingly, backs up. You think he’s going to listen to Bucky for just a moment before he looks up, staring at Bucky with a look you’ve only ever seen in a few people before, and never good people at that. You sit up straighter.

“This is all really easy for you, isn’t it?” He starts. “All that serum running through your veins. Barnes, your partner needs backup in there. Do you really want his blood on your hands?”

You can’t see the look on Bucky’s face, but you have a feeling you know how he’s looking at Walker. Slowly, you rise to your feet, placing a hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

“Back up, John,” you warn. “If Sam needed our help, we’d know.”

His eyes flicker to you. “Who do you think you are? I don’t even know you. What makes you think I’d listen to you?” He scoffs. “I’m John Walker. Captain America. You’re not an Avenger. You’re no one special, so I think you should be backing up.”

Bucky’s glare hardens. He narrows his eyes and takes a step towards Walker.

“Watch your mouth, John.”

Walker stares between the two of you for a few moments, and then before you know it, he slams the shield into your stomach, knocking you off to the side, and disappears up the stairs and into the building after Sam. You gasp for breath, the wind having been knocked right out of you.

“Asshole,” Bucky hisses, stepping towards you just as Lemar brushes past you.

You shake your head. “I’m fine, go after them.”

He looks worried. You’ve never seen him look at you this way before.

“Bucky, I’m fine. Go.”

He gives you a nod, promises to come back and then hurries out of the room after Walker and Lemar. He’s needed more there, anyway, and you both know it.

You rub a hand over your stomach as you try to breathe again properly.

“You okay?” Zemo calls over to you.

“Yeah, a shield to the stomach is nothing,” you roll your eyes.

It doesn’t take you too much longer to catch your breath, so when you do, you figure Zemo isn’t going anywhere and head out after Bucky, Walker and Lemar, even though you won’t be much – or any – help to them at all, but you can’t stay in that room with Zemo any longer, and truthfully, you’re worried.

Worried about Bucky, even worried about Sam. You don’t have any reason to be worried about them, and you know that, but you are. Bucky especially – he’s confusing you more than anyone has ever confused you in your entire life. You don’t know what to make of him, why he acts the way that he does around you. But whatever the reason is, you want to find out.

***

Tag List: (If you want to be tagged, just reply to this post or message me!) @rexorangecouny @mischiefmanaged71 @rebelspykim @johnmurphys-sass @americaswritings @toribentleyva @purplewcrld @zozebo @ren-ni @felicityofbakerstreet @stealapizzamyheart @okayline @lilacs-lavender @andievgs @mvpluv @themaddies-obx @shawnartmendes @my-little-writer @vvipgot7be @hatemyselfbutitsokay @kittengirl998 @tanyaherondale @abitofeverythinggg @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #tfatws #tfatws x reader #marvel #marvel x reader #spider

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groovyzombiellama · 3 years

Text

Don’t Leave Me

Title: Don’t Leave Me

Requested? No.

Plot: Your brother was the one to kidnap Cesar and his friends, and while you help them escape, you and Cesar fall in love, and you come to save his life when your brother discovers your hiding spot. Two endings.

Warnings: Mentions of getting shot, blood, death and funeral (one of the endings)

Word count: 2583

---***---

In the beginning it was tough to even get Cesar and his friends to eat right, let alone do anything else when they first arrived. So being in the position you are now, your feelings for the dark haired boy growing daily, you knew you had to do something. When your brother showed up to your house with the four of them in toe, you were already angry at him. You didn’t understand his need to hurt people, but he has crossed the line, kidnapping kids your own age, when he was much older than you. You honestly didn’t even care about his motives, but you immediately knew that you couldn’t let him hurt the four kids he kidnapped. So whenever Cesar argued with your brother while he was being grilled for the information your brother needed and you could see the eyes of your brother light up in rage, you were always ready to step in and protect Cesar from getting hurt in any way and the rest for that matter. At first you had no feelings towards him, it was only because you hated seeing people get hurt and especially seeing your brother, the guy you looked up to when you were younger doing the damage.

And since then you had developped some kind of relationship with all of them. You had began seeing Jamal, Ruby and Monse as friends, because they were quick to understand that you were trying to help them, but when it comes to Cesar, you were a bit unsure of what was going on. You knew that you had feelings for him, but at first you thought it was just a crush and that it would go away, because he was still reserved towards you and didn’t really warm up to you as much as the others, and even they were luke warm since you were related to the person who held them in captivity, so to say he was ice cold would be the most accurate description. But over time, especially when you had risked your own life helping them escape, they started opening up to you more, this time Cesar included. And that was when you realised that your feelings for Cesar were more than a crush and that the more you talked to him and the more you learned about him, the harder you were falling for him. You didn’t want to make an enemy out of Monse, since you knew that the two of them had a history, so you didn’t do a lot regarding your feelings, but it was clear that you had them, mostly to Monse.

She was actually the one who told you to go for it and that maybe you were the one for Cesar, since you were more in tune with the kind of life he lived, and no matter how much you tried to convince her that his way of life or yours or hers had nothing to do with feelings, she still pushed you into Cesar. And you were shocked to see him not pushing you back, and instead pulling you in. Like that one time you had to grab groceries as sneakily as you because all of you were getting hungry and the mask you were wearing had fallen slightly off your face, Cesar didn’t just tell you to pull it back or something, instead he was the one to reach over to pull it up for you, his fingers gently brushing over your lips, causing goosebumps to erupt on your skin. Or when you all had to hide from a few of your brother’s goons who had come looking for you in the place you were hiding, and Cesar insisted you come hide with him in a already cramped closet.

It kinda gave you the impression that he liked you too, but what sealed the deal were two instances, firstly when you had to switch hiding places and you offered to just lead them there and then go your own way or go back to your brother, and just face the music for helping them escape, since you knew you could go to your father and your brother wouldn’t be able to hurt you, but Cesar was the most vocal one in saying that you were staying with them and that was final. And secondly when at the new hideout you had a limited amount of beds, so one of you was destined to sleep on the floor. You volunteered, because you felt like you owe it to them for letting you tag along, but Cesar was quick to tell you to sleep next to him. You looked over at Monse and she smiled at you, nodding slightly, signaling that she had already talked to Cesar and that she as fine with the two of you being together and that for her, Cesar was as much of a friend as you.

But that was just part of the event that sealed the deal between you and Cesar. What really put the final nail in the coffin, so to speak, was the moment when you almost fell out of the bed in your sleep and woke up in a panic, ready to hit the ground, only to be grabbed by Cesar and pulled back, landing with your chest flush against his, your breaths mixing from the proximity of your faces. You looked up from his lips to his eyes, only to see him staring at your lips in turn, before leaning in and connecting them. The kiss was short and sweet at first, a chaste kiss shared between people who are yet to discover each other, but it was soon followed by a kiss more fast paced and hungry, just enough for the both of you to confirm to each other all that you felt through your mouths moving in sync and your breaths tangling. From then on you were his and he was yours, no doubt about it, and you felt butterflies roam your stomach when he even looked at you, let alone when he kissed you.

Neither one of you had any idea that your relationship was gonna be put to the highest test sooner rather than later when you brother and his goons somehow managed to find your hideout and a fight broke out. You fought to escape, while they fought to bring all five of you back into captivity. Your brother tried convincing you to come back to his side, but that had not been an option for a while now so he was trying in vain. And when even he realised that, that was when he really unleashed everything. There was punches thrown, and kicks from both sides, and people were thrown left and right, until you somehow ended up on the floor after one particularlly harsh kick from one of your brother’s goons and in your peripheral vision you noticed something shiny. Turning your head over to your brother, you noticed he had pulled out a gun and your eyes widened.

Pure shock overtook your body when you realised he was pointing it at Cesar who was fighting off his goons the strongest and he figured if he got rid of him grabbing the rest of you would be easier. Everything felt like it was in slow motion, but you managed to free yourself from the guy that had hurt you and was trying to hold you down and yelled out for Cesar, running to him. As soon as you reached him, you hugged him and heard a loud bang, followed by an enormous pain in your back and you collapsed to the floor, Cesar catching you in his arms. When your brother saw it was you who he shot, he froze, unable to understand how you were willing to fight with your life for people you met not too long ago. Suddenly they heart the sound of police sirens who just happened to be patroling the neighbourhood, they fled the scene, leaving you bleeding in Cesar’s arms. One of the officers rushed in and radioed for help when he saw you on the floor while the other started chasing your brother and his goons.

ENDING 1 (Gone But Not Forgotten)

“Come on Y/N, don’t leave me!“ You heard Cesar’s words, but you were unable to respond as you felt weak and your eyes were closing, and no matter how much he fought to get you to keep them open, you couldn’t anymore. Even the police officer was trying to get you to stay awake, pressing on your wound to stop the blood from flowing, but you somehow had a feeling your time is limited. With your last ounce of strength you told Cesar you loved him. “I love you“ was very important to you, and you felt like saying that in a relationship when it was truly serious, but since you felt like it was your last moments on earth, you knew that you had to say them to Cesar.

You felt one of his tears drop onto your skin and you wanted nothing more than to reach your hand up and wipe his tears, but you were getting weaker by the minute. You reached out your hand as much as possible, looking for Monse’s and when she grabbed your hand, you told her to take care of herself and of all of her friends, especially Cesar. “Turns out we weren’t actually meant to be as we thought.“ You say, your throat dry, causing you to cough, a bit of blood coming out of your mouth, and you smiled hearing Cesar. “Don’t say these things! You’re gonna be okay! I love you too, I love you, just don’t leave me!“ After uttering out one last “I love you“ to Cesar, you closed your eyes for the last time, your body going limp, and no matter how much he screamed, and he screamed for you so loudly that Monse, Jamal and Ruby felt like those screams were gonna haunt them for the rest of their lives, you were gone. Cesar cried even louder, placing his forehead against yours, begging you to wake up, but deep down he knew you were gone and he knew that he was gonna need a LOT of time to get over you and how you made him feel. “Sweet dreams angel, I love you.“ Were his last words to you before you were burried. He would often visit your grave, whenever he missed you, in every girl he saw you, even when he moved on, you were still tattooed in his heart.

ENDING 2 (The Survivor)

“Come on Y/N, don’t leave me!“ Cesar’s words echoed in your head, giving you more will to keep on fighting. You felt way too weak, but something in your mind was telling you that you had to fight. The police officer pressing down on your wound informed you that the ambulance was gonna be here soon and all you had to do was hold on a little longer. All four of your newfound friends were givin you words of encouragement, being able to see how strong you are from all of the things the five of your went through in this time you were together. It made you smile, even if it was weak and followed by you coughing out blood, it gave a sliver of hope to your friends and your boyfriend that you would be able to get through this. Your eyes felt heavy and for a moment you felt like it was the last thing you were ever gonna say, so you felt like you had to let him know. “Cesar, I l-love y-you.“ You wanted to say more, like how you know that those words are reserved for serious relationships for you and not something to be taken lightly or how it was okay if he didn’t feel the same, or how it might be too soon to say that, but you couldn’t. Your throat closed and you caughed again.

Cesar begged you not to talk and to keep your energy for fighting to stay alive, and said he loved you too, so you had to fight, because he wanted to show you how much he loved you, in every meaning of that word. If you weren’t bleeding out on the floor you would have hugged him so tight right now and showered him with kisses. Soon the ambulance was there and it was just in time too, as you were slowly starting to close your eyes. You were all taken to the hospital and they were all treated for their wounds as you were rushed to the operation room. Everyone was anxious, hoping to get good news that you were gonna be okay. Cesar was blaming himself for not turning the two of you around and taking the bullet himself, but he was too late to realise what was going on, and didn’t have enough time to react. Monse, Jamal and Ruby were doing their best to calm him down, but all three were starting to get dizzy watching him pace back and forth in their hospital room, waiting to hear how you were.

After what seemed like forever the doctor walked into their room and started scolding Cesar for not resting, but he quickly brushed him off and asked for you. A sigh of relief washed over the entire room as they heard that even though you had lost a lot of blood, you were gonna be fine and recover. Cesar asked if he could see you, or stay in your hospital room with you and the doctor granted that to him. Even when the other’s left to go home to their families, Cesar stayed with you. You had made him feel so much in such a short amount of time, more than even Monse. He had never felt the way he feels about you and couldn’t wait to say he loves you to you again, when you are fully back to health and looking at him with your beautiful smile and breathtaking eyes. When you woke up finally, he peppered your face with gentle kisses, making you giggle, that turned into a hissing sound, as you felt your wound hurting from the sudden movement, prompting Cesar to stop and apologise multiple times, despite you saying it was fine.

He was there for you throughout your recovery, making sure you know that he was serious about you, and when you had finally been released from the hospital, he took you to his house and you had officially moved in with him, since you had nowhere else to go after what happened with your brother who was your main caretaker. But you were accepted into the Diaz family and you were truly thankful. “Oh by the way, I love you angel. I love you a lot.“ Cesar said one night as you were getting ready to go to bed, making you blush, both at him saying those words to you and at the nickname he gave you. “I love you too....amor.“ The smile Cesar beamed at you was the biggest you had seen on him since you met him. He surged forward, feeling like he was on cloud nine after finally hearing those words properly from you and kissed you with so much emotion, you felt blissful. He was yours and you were his, sure you met under wild circumstances, but at least you were here to stay.

---***---

Gah I made the second ending so much longer than the first, but since she lives in that one, there was more to happen after she wakes up, so it got longer, but I hope you guys still like it and don’t mind <3

I haven’t seen On My Block fully yet, so I’m not sure if Cesar and Monse get back together before they get kidnapped, but someone spoiled that they get kidnapped to me so I had this idea one night while I was thinking about it. I’ve always wanted to write a fic with alternate endings so people could choose weather they like the sad ending or the happy one. Hope you enjoy this, I’m off to bed. my back and neck are killing me and tomorrow I’m going back to my inbox for new requests to do :) that’s all for now folks <3

#cesar diaz #cesar diaz imagine #cesar diaz imagines #cezar diaz x reader #on my block #on my block imagine

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essenteez · 3 years

Text

Scenarios & edits : Ateez as || horror and thriller psychos

Genre: horror, thriller, criminal, psychological

Warning: mentions of blo*d, m*rder, de*th dismembering, physical ab*se, torturing, parts of bodies, explicit language, mention of knife and being tied down. I guess I also kind of mentioned a pedo*hilia BUT DON’T WORRY IT’S A CRIME OF ONE OF ATZ’S VICTIMS, NOT ATZ’S. Horror mood in general. Edits also contain blood, skulls and some knives and creepy faces but they’re not that scary.

Words count: 2.7k

.•°•.

Hongjoong || ᴀʟᴄʜᴇᴍɪsᴛ

❧

You hated the place the moment you entered it. There were jars filled with eyeballs; every vessel contained different colored pupils. Your own eyes started to itch just from the sight.

“Detective”, you were called by one of the officers accompanying you on the scene, “No doubt, it’s him”.

“You don’t say” you gulped, seeing even more disgusting discoveries.

The apartment didn’t even closely resemble the other in the building. The walls were filthy, almost black. The whole room was filled with shelves of different sizes and heights. Eyeballs, bones, muscles…tongues. And the smell.. God the smell.

“Jesus Christ” you said louder, covering your nose from the growing stench.

“Y/n!” Your colleague yelled out.

You craned your neck to see your partner in the next room. The small space was surprisingly filled with only books. But of course, even those books were horrendous. You noticed a few pages as your coworker was skimming through it all.

“Look, detective! How to remove a whole spine” the younger officer seemed very amused with what he read.

“Funny as fuck, Summers”, you commented, passing him by. Your attention went back to your other partner, who stood with a black leather bound book, “What is that?”

“I guess his diary” he replied with disgust on his face and passed you the notebook, “Look at this. And the worst part is we have no idea where he fled”.

Your faced frowned at the first sentence, “Kim Hongjoong, you sick fuck”.

“Why do they scream? Why do they cry and wail everytime? Why do they continue to beg for their lives? I keep telling them their sacrifice will bring mankind closer to nature. They do not listen. They do not listen. Fighting, fighting me. I purify their bodies. I release all the minerals caged in their blood and bones. They merge back with the universe. They should be grateful and proud. It’s an honor. Why do they call me a murderer? They should celebrate and laugh. Loud like me”.

Seonghwa || ᴇᴠᴀɴɢᴇʟɪsᴛ

❧

There was no trace of the beautiful and nice young man you met in the church that evening. It was like the sweetest dream turning into the worst nightmare clothed in horror. At first his warm smile and then all of sudden his hands grabbing you and taking you away from the lights. You were surrounded by darkness.

“Where is your God now?” he grimaced, his cold voice made the fear creeping in you grow. A black mask hid his perfect face completely. All you could see was a pair of ice blue eyes, observing you intensively. Your tears and trembling seemed to satisfy him

“Where is he?” he growled, “He’s gone now. He left you all alone, Y/n”.

You wanted to muster the strength to tell him he was wrong but the cloth stuffed in your mouth forbade your words. The touch of the cold blade startled you, making you cry even harder while struggling to get free. Your wrists and ankles hurt from being restrained.

“Shhht”, he silenced you, putting the knife to your throat. His voice deep and reverberating through you.

“Don’t wait for a miracle. I am your god now”.

Yunho || ʟɪʙʀᴀʀɪᴀɴ

❧

Last flicks of the brush and it was finally ready. He had done it an uncountable amount of times. No stains of blood, no muscles. Pure bone.

That was the goal. Of course he couldn’t skip the prevention part. You need to take care of your trophies if you want them to last long.

He entered the chamber, holding his new skull and stroking it gently.

The darkness was consuming until thunder hit nearby and following lightning illuminated the overwhelmingly large space.

The ceiling, extremely high, dominating over two floors on two sides of a long hall.

At first you’d say it looked like an impressive library until you realized that instead of books there were thousands, if not millions of skulls, lurking at you with their empty eye sockets.

“1876, letter M… November”, he mumbled to himself, running his eyes through shelves. He smiled as he finally found the right spot, “Here it is!“

He put the new trophy beside another skull with metal tag that said "Charlotte Madley, Nov. 5th 1876”

“Look Charlie, I brought you a friend. Meet Emma. You know, you two have something in common. She died the exact same way you did”, He grimaced, brows frowning,“My hands took her last breath”.

Yeosang || ғʟᴏʀɪsᴛ

❧

You were looking at your sister, as your heart felt like it was slowly being crushed. A red rose in her hands, so vivid and fresh, contrasted with her pale, lifeless body. She looked like she was just sleeping, but deep wounds on her neck and the crimson color of her own blood said something else. She was really gone and you were all alone in the morgue with your dead sister.

“He dressed you for your own funeral” you sobbed to her as tears were streaming down your face. The dress that the murder put on her made you feel uneasy with its blackness. She hated black color. You wanted to rip it off the laced veil, covering her beautiful face but were too scared. You were scared that the moment you touch her, she’d break like fine porcelain.

“That’s his thing” a sudden voice caused you to flinch and return from the darkness corner of your thoughts. You looked over to the officer that just entered the room, holding some paperwork.

“He seduces them, then dresses them in all black..”, he said, trailing off, “He either uses a thin knife to precisely cut these holes or his teeth and then he drinks their blood”.

“Drink-?”, you mumbled, feeling more sick, “Wh- what do you mean?”

“Look at these bruises around the wounds, Miss. Those marks were made by sucking on the skin. I don’t know why he calls himself Florist when he’s just some vampire wannabe” he sort of chuckled.

“I guess maybe because he picks the most beautiful flowers”, you looked at the red rose that the monster put in your sister’s hands. You cleared your eyes, feeling the rage flooding your vision, “He should be careful, many of them are beautiful but poisonous

You scuffed, full of determination, "The next flower he’s going to find…will be his last”.

San || ᴄʜᴀʀᴏɴ

❧

Hidden behind the marble column, you knew you had to be as quiet as possible. Your hands tightly covering your mouth as you tried to mute your sobbing. Your eyes, trying their best not to look down at all the bodies laying at your feet. Tears were streaming down your face at the thought you might be the only one left alive out of all the guests at the banquet.

You knew exactly who that man was, the killer that terrorized all of Italy. People called him Charon or “Death of the Rich”. He preferred to be seen as God of death himself, Thanatos, leading the path of the death for his victims.

Laughing and screaming hysterically, “Call me Death itself!” as he spun around, slaughtering everyone in his path. He was lost in his true self, engulfed in his own desire for blood.

Suddenly you heard his words fade, slowly you put your hands down and leaned over to peek to see if the murderer was there. Your eyes widened at the site. He was dancing gracefully in silence, blood spatter glistening on his beautifully crafted face. His eyes were closed but never stepped on any of the bodies. It was almost hypnotizing.

His body seemed to float as he was performing his Danse Macabre. How could one be so beautiful but such a monster. You slowly moved back to your hiding spot. You just wanted him to leave and disappear. You wanted to run as far away as possible. You wanted to live.

“Shall we dance?” his deep voice made your heart drop. Your eyes slowly gazed up to see that he was bent over, staring at you. Amused smirk decorated his perfect but terrifying face. As your eyes met, he grasped your wrist and pulled you to the floor for the last dance.

Mingi || ᴍᴏᴜʀɴᴇʀ

❧

It was the most difficult and unusual case your father was ever assigned to investigate. In the 37 years of his detective career he had never been this dumbfounded. You watched your father reading the same reports all over again and drinking cup after cup of coffee. You, who suffered insomnia, witnessed all the painstaking hours.

“Are there really no trances of this man?” you once asked your father, handing him a hot cup of tea.

He let out a hagged sigh and nodded, thanking you for the beverage, “All we have are reports and missing bodies. It’s not enough for me and my team to even go out and search”.

“What do the reports say” you couldn’t hide your curiosity.

Your father took a sip of the hot liquid and again signed loudly, “Tall, young lad, in his early twenties. He drives black caravan carriage, led by two black horses. He takes fresh buried coffins and then leaves disappearing in the fog”.

“Aaaalright” you frowned at the lack of helpful information, sitting down next to your father at the table.

“Why don’t you wait for him at the cemetery? He’ll surely appear there again?”

“There is something else people reported”, he gulped but then cleared his throat loudly, “They say that there was a horrid face peeking out at them from the window of the carriage. An ulgy, bloody smile. They say they saw a real demon…”.

It’d been 6 months since you and you father laughed at the reports. But tonight you weren’t laughing. You saw him, with your own eyes while visiting your grandparents’ grave. Hearing the sound of digging and loud sobbing, you followed it. You hid behind a tomb and peeked. You expected to see a quiet funeral taking place but there he was. A beautiful man, all dressed in black. Within few minutes he had dug and pulled up a freshly buried coffin. Alone with his bare hands, crying heavily at the same time. You were too scared you had to pinch yourself to move. You ran as fast as you could towards the gates. You turned around to see if the creepy mourner was following you.

Turning your view forward again you all of sudden saw the black carriage right in front of you. You had no chance to slow down and collided with the side of the caravan. Bouncing to the ground with a thud, vision blurry you looked up at the window to see a pair of hollowed eyes fixated on you.

Wooyoung || ᴍᴀsᴋ

❧

“Can I show you something?” Wooyoung asked, looking curiously into your eyes. You could feel your face growing warmer and looked away.

“O-of course” you stuttered, biting your lower lip. He was standing so close to you that you could feel his warmth radiating off him. You’d always been the saint of your entourage but this man awoke the worst in you. You knew that sneaking out at night to meet up with him was a bad idea but it was also exciting and new to you.

He gently grabbed your wrist, stirring you up from your thoughts. Your eyes couldn’t help but examine his beautiful face and soft plump lips. You wished nothing more than to feel them on every part of your body.

“Show me, please"

His smirk caused you to gasp a little. He pulled you down a small hall near the back of his mansion. You were ready, you hoped that tonight would be the night you got to taste that man. He stopped in front of a black door and looked at you. You watched him smile at you before continuing to open the door. Behind the door you noticed a long, wooden staircase leading downwards. You didn’t even hesitate to follow when he walked through the frame. He was only holding you by your wrist but you felt as though your entire body was on fire. You hadn’t realized how long you had been walking due to being fixed on him and lost in your lude fantasies.

"We’re here” he said, halting suddenly causing you to slightly bump into his back. You looked up to see a humongous double-leaved door that chained up with a heavy iron lock. Was that his secret room? He lived alone so what was the purpose of this place?

“You’re special to me, Y/n” he whispered and let go of your wrist, You watched him pull out an old looking key, putting it into the lock, “That’s why it’s really hard for me to give you to her”.

“Her” you asked dumbfounded ‘What are you talking abo-“

Your words interrupted as you heard the lock click. The door swinging open, revealing total darkness.

"Eeemilyyy?” Wooyoung called into the void, “Your brother brought you your new toy! Come take a look!” he bellowed, vividly amused.

Suddenly a little girl's giggles emerged through the air. You wanted to run but the fear enveloped your legs keeping you in place. The creepy laugh was getting closer and Wooyoung’s smile became wider, more sinister.

“Please be gentle with Miss Y/n, all right?” he warned his sister, a face emerging from the dark.

You kees grew weak at the terrible sight, “I also want to play with her” he breathed, as an invisible force pulled you into the darkness, doors slamming shut. Your screams echoing into the abyss.

Jongho || ʟᴏʀᴅ

❧

The heavy rain had kept the entirety of Oxford in their homes for days. The rainfall’s intensity blinded and paralyzed the entire city. Not a soul was about the streets. All expect for two. A man was fearfully attempting to escape from the horrid one who trailed him. The mysterious Lord slowly walked after his prey, squabbling before him on the cobblestones. His black shoes sloshed through the puddles that were colored with the fearful one’s blood. The sound of rain and the rush of water surpassed all that could be heard to others.

“You know what's funny, William?” asked the loud and vividly amused male voice, “The same storm happened exactly a year ago, I recall. You know what else also happened then?”

The injured man refused to answer. This wasn’t supposed to happen, it was all wrong. He just wanted to meet the young miss who he had a planned date with, on this awful day.

“Help” the crippled man screamed.

“Oh William” the cloaked Lord chuckled.

“Hel-” his second cry got cut off as a sudden weight pinned him to the wet stones.

“A year ago William”, the figure hissed, demanding the answer, “What happened a year ago?”

“I don’t know!” he shouted as the result of the figure pulling back on his arms.

“Let me refresh your memory then. Y/n, do you remember her?” the attacker asked.

William’s face went pale as his past fiance flashed before his eyes. The woman that suddenly disappeared.

“Do you remember how you made her trust you, how you stained her honor and betrayed her? How she lost everything? he snarled.

"I remember!” William screamed as the pain began to become unbearable, “What do you want from me?!”

“Oh,” the Lord exclaimed, “I want you to suffer” an evil grin crept on his face.

The pain suddenly faded. William relaxed a bit, looking over to see what the thump he heard was. His eyes widen at the sight of someone’s arms and legs lying next to him. Terror took over him as he attempted to crawl away but there was nothing to crawl with. Realization settled in as he was bleeding out. The limbs were his.

The monster before him laughed, giving an evil chuckle before sinking his glistening fans into one of dismembered man’s gushing arteries, draining him of life. William only had seconds left of his wretched life.

“I’m leaving you to rot just as you left her that day, you scum”, the monster wiped his mouth before continuing, “Y/n is happy. I took care of that. Just like the 13 year old girl I saved from your hands today will be as well”

William watched as the mysterious lord stood and brushed himself off, turning to leave him to die. The light faded, all he heard was the vampire laughing with excitement until he couldn’t hear it anymore.

[Bonus to this scenario 《 Jongho Vampire smut 》

.•°•.

So my hiatus is finally over. I’m relaxed and I feel full charged again! Hope it means that many good ideas are coming to my one braincell 🤣

Hope you enjoyed my horror scenarios and edits!! (edits were made much earlier that’s why some it them have my other watermark)

♡

@necteez on IG - new account with edits

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echo-hiraeth · 3 years

Text

Chapter 2: Survivor’s Guilt

Part of the “Illicit Limerence” series.

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Summary: Javier is confronted with the stakes of losing an important coworker and friend as the reader gets injured during a chase. But grief and hospitals aren’t really his scene. The reader finds out the extent of her injuries and condition, leaving her shocked to the core.

Warnings: swearing, violence, mentions of injury, angst and some fluff

Masterlist

Previous chapter

Next chapter

DEA agents were hurt and killed almost daily, that was just the way things were with the cartel. Pablo didn’t care about who they were or what their legacy was, married or not, children or not, to Escobar they were just the enemy’s pawns. Javier Peña was well-aware of this and therefore rarely turned his head when another death within the office was called. He didn’t do funerals, he did women and drinking instead. In a time of war there was no time for grieving, he believed it to be a weakness of the flesh much worse than indulging in the warmth of a prostitute or colleague every now and then. This had become a routine for him and while it ate away at his conscience he never once considered giving up his bachelor-lifestyle. Never until today.

The narco screamed as Javier tackled him to the asphalt, brutally bending his arms behind his back, slapping the cuffs around his wrists. He opened his mouth to yell something out to Carillo when he heard the echo of two gunshots, followed by a cry. As his ears registered the pitch and tone, he made it out to be you. His head shot up immediately, already in desperate search of the source of your whereabouts.

Carillo took the detained from his clammy hands, leaving Javier to find you. Everything went quiet and all he could hear in that moment of utter panic was his obscene breathing and rapid heartbeat. When he rounded the corner, seeing Steve’s back turned to him, a pool of broken glass and legs he could only assume were yours he felt his heart drop. Murphy was frantically babbling into his radio as Javier stepped closer, the blood on the floor sickening.

He stood still next to Steve, watching the way your relaxed body laid in his arms, unmoving. “Is she-“

“No”, Steve replied quickly, beckoning for Javier to take his spot. “Stay with her, I’m getting the med kit from the car.”

He hesitantly sat down on his knees, the glass scraping against the fabric of his jeans as he gently pulled you onto his upper thighs. He spotted the burnt fabric on your vest and thanked his stupid teasing for having secured it earlier. It was as if you were just asleep, eyes closed, a peaceful look settling on your features. That’s what he told himself, she’s just resting, it’s been a long day, she’s fine, just tired.

Usually when you were sprawled out in his arms it was after another heated round of mind-numbing sex, naked and glistening with sweat. He thought of the way you looked then, skin glowing with pleasure, lips curled up in the most mesmerizing smile, eyelids fluttering closed as he trailed his long fingers over your chest. Rather than being covered in each other’s sweat, he found his hands stained with your vibrant-red blood and rather than trailing his fingertips across the curve of your breasts his left hand rested on the back of your head, hair sticking to itself from the mixture of sweat and blood.

It was a horror, the otherwise so lively and feisty woman appearing dead. The more he thought of it, the more he started shaking, panicking, checking for a heartbeat despite hearing your soft breaths. He couldn’t stand the idea of never getting to apologize to you, never having you curled up against his chest again, laughing about something stupid. The mere possibility of never seeing you at that desk again, stuffing your mouth with whatever the kitchen had to offer, completely dropping the “ladylike” act in front of your two partners, it tugged right at his heartstrings.

When Steve returned, putting some balled up spare clothes underneath you to keep them from cutting you up even more, Javier was dead silent and pale with terror. He gave his fellow agent a death glare when he gently shifted her body back to the floor, his arms tightening around you. “We need to get her vest off and check her chest”, Steve commanded, Javier finally loosening his grip, allowing you to lay on the makeshift “bed”.

“Ambulance?”, he breathed.

“Still on the way”, Steve huffed as he carefully undid the several buckles and straps on your vest.

As the two frantic men were bickering back and forth accusing the other one of not being careful enough or being a blatant idiot you slowly came to. A soft whine left your lips as you blinked a couple of times, the bright daylight inducing the absolute worst headache you ever felt. Soon the two of them were hovering over you, asking a myriad of questions while you were just trying to put two and two together. You couldn’t even bring yourself to move an inch, your entire body just aching and seemingly on fire. As you registered the severity of your fall, your breathing started to speed up, the two fussing men not helping you with your oncoming panic attack. Javier rested a bloodied hand on your cheek in an attempt to calm you down, he was whispering something to you, in Spanish, fingers stroking back and forth in a gentle motion. You tried to speak but found yourself unable to, a tear of frustration falling out of the corner of your eye.

“Cariño, quédate conmigo, por favor”, he muttered, “Está bien, la ambulancia llegará pronto.” (Stay with me, it’s okay, the ambulance will be here soon).

He hadn’t been this soft with you in weeks and the longer you stared up at him through your heavy eyes, the guiltier he felt about it. With every blink your eyes struggled more and more to open again, your body urging, begging you to just rest. You were defenceless against yourself, the sustained injuries asking just too much of you, and soon you were out again, breathing steadying once again. Javier bit his tongue trying to ground himself and keep calm as he heard the wailing sirens in the distance. Steve had been taken your vest of by now, lifting your shirt to reveal nasty bruises on your chest, the vest had saved your life. Javier said a prayer right there and then, thanking whatever entity up above responsible for saving you, for letting you stay with him.

When the paramedics took over and removed the two of them from the scene they were in a trance-like state. Steve had been through this before, back in the states he’d lost his partner, which had proven to him just how powerful drugs were. Death was just a part of the job, but losing a partner, that shit was personal.

How they managed to get to the hospital unscathed was beyond anyone’s understanding, but as Steve sat in the waiting room with sweet Connie holding his hand, Javier was angry. It should’ve been him, he had told you not to go, but you just wouldn’t fucking listen. They didn’t even catch the guy, which maybe wasn’t the worst outcome, seeing how Javier would have absolutely murdered him with his bare hands.

“Javier just sit down, this isn’t helping anyone”, Connie spoke up, clearly having had enough of the man’s continuous pacing. “Why don’t you get yourself a coffee or something, you could be here another couple hours.”

She did have a point, you’d been in surgery for little over an hour and with every passing minute his need to just run off was getting more and more prominent. But he knew that the doctor could walk through those doors any minute as well, so he wanted to stay put, for you.

Upon seeing his partner’s lack of movement, Steve stood up. “How about I go get us those coffees then”, he offered.

Being alone with just Connie, a close friend of yours, made him feel even more nervous. Luckily for him the doors swung open before any kind of conversation could be started. Revealing the doctor that had rushed you away earlier. Your two friends went to stand, politely nodding at the doctor.

“The patient is stable, she suffered a broken collarbone which we managed to fix into place during surgery. She also sustained a concussion and a laceration to the back of the head which has been closed up. And uh she has some contusions among minor cuts over the body, nothing to be too worried about.” Javier and Connie sighed in relief. “But I need to speak to Steve Murphy, he was listed as Miss y/l/n’s emergency contact.”

“That’s my husband, he’s gone to get some coffee, should be back any second”, Connie replied, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “Can we go see her?”

“The patient’s waking up just now, so she’ll be out of it for a little bit.” With that he led them to your room, carefully opening the dim room, quickly adding that it had to do with the smack to the head you’d suffered.

Javier and Connie sat on either side of the bed, the doctor quickly leaving the room almost bumping into Steve on the way out. When he introduced himself the doctor whisked him away, presumably to have that confidential chat.

A quiet sob drew Javier’s attention back to the scene in front of him, nothing that Connie had started to cry, carefully holding your hand in hers. “Careful with that, we still need that back at the office, evidence”, he joked, eliciting a sad smile from his friend.

“Just look at her Javi, she must’ve been so scared.”

He looked at the IV’s in your left hand and the several bandages covering your body. “She’ll be alright Con, I promise.”

Steve re-entered the room with heavy steps, head hanging low and he looked at his wife. “Connie, a word, out in the hall”, he sighed.

She quickly wiped at her eyes and left the room, following her husband outside. He was alone with you now and felt incredibly out of place. You were the one to make situations less awkward and insufferable, you were the one to lighten the mood with some stupid joke or story about something back in the States. You, you, you – anything and everything was you, it was like his fucking world revolved around it- her. The poor man wasn’t able to deal with the near loss of you and his feelings, so he did what seemed best to him, pressing a quick kiss to your head and booking it, leaving you alone.

The simple touch had its desired effect, eyes fluttering open just as he walked over the threshold of your room, disappearing into the Columbian night. As you blinked a couple of times, vision somewhat blurry, all you could feel was pain, intense pain from your shoulder. Just as you tried to sit up a bit more the Murphys walked in, Connie quickly rushing over to your side and forcing you to lay back.

“Hey, y/n, hey, you’re in the hospital”, she explained slowly, gesturing at the several wires and monitors.

“Ja-Javier?”, you croaked out, throat completely dry and scratchy.

Steve poured you a glass of water while speaking: “He must’ve left. Listen, I know you’re probably exhausted and all but we need to have a chat.”

Nothing could have prepared you for the absolute bomb Steve was about to drop on you, those three little words changed everything. You – are – pregnant. Normally people would be nothing short of euphoric hearing such a confession, but to you – a woman with no partner and a job in one of the most dangerous places to be – it was a death penalty.

You had stayed in the hospital five more days, fellow agents coming to pay their respects, but you were just in a state of utter shock and frankly denial. You had argued with doctors and nurses, demanding they’d take your blood again and do it right. But no matter how much you protested and wanted it to not be true, you were in fact pregnant.

Five whole days of friends and colleagues supporting and loving you, even a call from your fucking parents at some point, but no Javier. Connie and Steve hadn’t pried for information, prioritizing your recovery for now, but you knew fully well your old friend had his suspicions. They hadn’t told anyone else, and as of yet it was just you, them two and the medical staff that was aware, already way too many people for your liking.

On the fifth day nobody visited, as per your request, you’d be moving in with Connie and Steve for the next couple of weeks, your concussion-induced vertigo and left arm requiring almost constant assistance, or as you saw it: babysitting. So, you’d told everyone to fuck off until it was time to go to hopefully get some time to yourself, time that you could spend in your own head. As you sat up on the hospital bed, half dressed, incapable of putting a shirt over your head, you broke down. It wasn’t necessarily the shirt that made you this upset it was just everything; the accident, the fact that you were pregnant and most of all him. He hadn’t even made an effort to visit you, to check up on you.

Or so you thought. You see, while you were out in that bed, life at the office just continued where it left off, Peña and Murphy still sitting at their desks and going out in the field. Only now they only ever talked about three things; new leads, that new bar downtown and you. Well to be completely honest, Steve didn’t really ever mention you but Javi.. he couldn’t shut up about you, bugging his poor co-worker on the daily, trying to get at least some information out of him. Steve had gotten so fed up one late night that he’d tossed the case files at the other man’s head, telling him to go to that damned hospital instead. After that he stopped asking and was left to brood and mull in his bed, kitchen, shower, basically anytime he was alone. Surely you wouldn’t want him there, considering what terms you were on, but would it be so bad for him to just swing by, talk to you for half an hour or so, see how you were doing with his own eyes? He deemed it best to leave you alone and not give you more of a headache. But by Saturday afternoon, the day you were supposed to be emitted, he couldn’t help himself. He got in his car and just drove there, hastily parking his car as he ran up to your room, stopping at the door as he heard your muffled weeping.

The soft knock interrupted your heartfelt moment, you saw his reflection in the windows, unable to turn your head around. “Can I come in?”, he asked with a small voice.

“Y-yeah”, you answered, trying to cover yourself with your good arm.

He wordlessly walked over to you, quickly gathering the shirt from the floor and stepping closer. “Guide me.” Javier tenderly helped you into your shirt, following your every instruction and checking if he was doing okay every time you winced. When you were dressed he sat next to you on the bed, holding the hairbrush you’d handed him just seconds before. “I-I’ve never done someone else’s hair, are you sure you want to look even more of a mess?”, he joked.

You quietly chuckled, fidgeting with the hair tie in your hand. “Can’t get much worse anyways, just be careful with the ends.”

The two of you sat in comfortable silence as he brushed through your untamed hair, profusely apologizing every time the brush would get tangled, making the both of you laugh a little. It was a small win, just a sweet and innocent moment with the most dangerous man around, at least to you. He struggled to comb it all back, clearly not used to performing even the easiest of hairstyles. Eventually your hair did end up in something akin to a ponytail, at least he tried. After he zipped up your bag for you and checked the room for anything left behind you tried to slip on your shoes, a pair of tennis shoes to be exact, ones you frequented due to the nature of your job. Chasing narco-men wasn’t exactly ideal when wearing heels, so yes, you lived in flats. He soon got on his knees in front of you, helping you in your shoes and tying the laces for you, not able to watch you struggle any longer. The two of you didn’t talk other than the occasional “does this hurt” and “what now”. He offered to drive you home, but you explained Steve would be picking you up in a bit, informing him that you’d be staying over at their place, but a floor away from his own door.

“I should probably go then – unless you need anything else”, he said, hands in his pockets.

You went to stand, losing your balance a bit and steadying yourself by holding on to the frame of your bed. “Actually, if you don’t mind, can you help me to the entrance, I’d rather wait there.”

With his arm wrapped around your waist, by means of support, totally nothing else, he helped you get downstairs, to the entrance. He’d insisted you stayed inside, telling you about the dangers of being alone. You’d rolled your eyes, reminding him you had worked here just as long as he had, making him jut his hip. It’s then that Steve pulled up out front, quickly walking over to the two of you.

“What the hell is he doing here?”, Steve asked you, eyeing his partner up and down.

“He was just visiting and now he is leaving, see you Monday, Murphy”, Javier scoffed as he patter the man on the back, walking off without another word.

As Murphy helped you in his car he quirked an eyebrow at your messy hair; “Peña do that to you?” You nodded. “What’s that all about?”

“Survivor’s guilt”, you chuckled.

Taglist: @peterhollandkait @pedritomando

#javier peña #javier pena #narcos #pedro pascal #imagine #javier peña x reader #illicit limerence

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blanc-et-n0ir · 3 years

Text

Out of Misery

(Because I haven't done angst in a while :))

tw// death, implied torture, gore, violence Technoblade cursed under his breath as he dodged the sword coming his way. This "warden" was such a hindrance. He could easily just kill the man and be on his way but he had already done that once. It only served to raise an alarm and it won't be long before the guards appear. He internally berated himself for everything he had done that led to this point. He just wanted the key cards, it wasn't that hard to kill the hybrid. It wasn't that hard but now he's back and he has back-up coming. He rolled his eyes under his pig mask and shoved Sam against the wall, smashing his head against the wall. The hybrid slumped forward, unconscious from the hit. He dusted himself off and turned to the the many levers. He groaned and shook his head. He hated dealing with these things. He was a warrior, not an engineer nor was he builder. He clutched the key cards in hand and went through all the rooms easily. It wasn't long before he reached the maximum security cell, his ears twitching at the constant ringing of the prison. He wondered when the guards will appear or if any will even show up. He scowled and splashed a fire resistance on himself, not wanting to wait too long for the lava to drop down. He swam through the hot liquid, feeling it warm his skin but not harm it at any point. It wasn't long before the swim made him reach the other side and he shook his head, feeling a bit dizzy at the vertigo. He sighed and opened his eyes, looking at the cell. His sense heightened and his pupils dilated at the strong smell of blood. BLOOD, BLOOD, BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD Technoblade gritted his teeth, the smell alone got Chat excited quickly. He shook his head and took in the tiny cell that housed his rival. The moment he knew that Quackity was taking advantage of Dream's weakness and visiting almost every day. Technoblade wondered what the other man was doing and he got worried for his rival/friend. The blood was a worrying thing. His eyes landed on a slumped figure on the far side of the wall, his arm submerged into the pool of water that was dirtied with blood. Technoblade's breath hitched as he walked closer, realizing the smell of blood came from the blonde. He crouched, placing a hand on the blonde's head. He moved his hand down to the man's chest, checking for a heartbeat. When he felt a faint one, he sighed in relief before he carefully grabbed the man's torso and maneuvered him to a sitting position. He sighed and brought the unconscious blonde close, resting his head against his shoulder. He tensed when he felt the other breathe, hissing at the pain. "Hey, it's me." Technoblade whispered, patting his back comfortingly. "I'm gonna get you out of here." He internally cursed Quackity and his insanity. To think the other man would do this to someone. He didn't think he was even capable of this. He didn't think he had the balls to do it. Technoblade shook his head and moved, taking Dream with him. He stopped when his breath hitched, a pained whimper leaving his lips as he gripped on Technoblade's sleeve. "Techno..." Dream rasped out, his voice scratchy. It was no doubt that his throat was raw from screaming, or if not then Quackity must've done something to his throat. That, or the lack of water finally caught up to the blonde. "I'm here, Dream." Technoblade assured, trying to find a way to carry the man without hurting him. "Don't." "Don't what? What do you want me to do?" "Kill me." Technoblade's breath hitched and he couldn't formulate any words. Chat was going crazy, half of them wanting the blonde dead- asking merely for blood to paint the cell- while the other half was begging for him to save the blonde- take him away from this hell. Technoblade was torn. On one hand, he wanted to save his friend. He needed to save him, especially after going through all the trouble to get in. On the other hand, Dream sounded so broke- so resigned. "I- Dream-" "Do it, Techno." Dream coughed, his body wracking with every cough. His shoulders hitching up with every action and the

wheeze at the end sounding more painful that joyful. "Are you sure?" Technoblade whispered, kneeling on the ground as he realized he can't do anything about it. "I am." Dream shook in his grasp, tears flowing down his eyes as it mixed with blood. "Please..." Technoblade sighed and brought out his netherite sword. He gripped the hilt tightly and positioned the blade right under Dream's ribs. A memory briefly flashed into his mind, about another scene so similar to this. A memory that brought pain, anger and resentment. A memory that reminded him of his close friend stabbing his own son. Technoblade closed his eyes as he wondered if all villains were destined to die the same, a sword through their hearts as they lay in the arms of the person they trusted and loved the most. The next time he opened his eyes, Dream was slumped against him. The tip of the sword greeted his sight, all bloodied as it had gone straight through Dream. Technoblade let out a shaky breath, taking the sword out slowly. He couldn't feel the blonde breathe nor could he feel any pulse. Technoblade closed his eyes and dropped his sword. He didn't want it anymore. He shakily reached for his communicator, hands sloppily typing out a message. He could hear shouting from the other side. He sent the message and closed his eyes, hugging the corpse of his friend close. If he can't give him another chance at life, the least he could do was to see him off and give him a good death. A peaceful death that meant a good and proper funeral. It was the least he could do. As he felt the magic of the ender pearl surround him just at the right moment. He could hear footfalls inside the cell and the tugging at his gut became too much. He disappeared from sight, the body of his friend following him along. He opened his eyes to the Syndicate staring at him. He ignored their stares and looked straight at Phil. "We're going to arrange a proper funeral for him." Technoblade announced, clutching the slowly cooling body close. "It's the least we could do." "Right, I'll help you." Phil nodded. "If you will let me, I'll clean him up." "I'll find a spot." Technoblade whispered, handing the man to his friend. He turned to the other two members of the Syndicate with steel in his eyes, "You can stay or leave. It's not mandatory but..." "I'll stay." Niki whispered, eyes on the corpse of the blonde. Technoblade didn't know if he was imagining it but he could see longing, pain and sorrow in her eyes. As if she also knew him personally. "I- I'll stay." Ranboo swallowed, fiddling with the end of his suit. Technoblade nodded his thanks before he left the room. He moved out to the tundra and searched through the white snow, for a perfect spot. It wasn't long before he found one, they held a short and small ceremony before they buried the body. Technoblade would visit the gravestone weekly, sitting and leaning his back against the cool and smooth stone. He would talk to it, about anything really. Sometimes, a transparent body would appear and sit opposite to him. Sometimes, he would respond. Respond in broken sentences that if Technoblade would piece together, he'd realize is the contents of the revive book. Half of him wants to use it on the ghost, to bring him back. The other half of him wanted for the past to finally lay to rest. The other half of him didn't want to bring the man away from his peace. Sometimes, he wouldn't be as lonely...

#oneshot #fanfiction #dream #dream mcyt #technoblade #technoblade mcyt #philza minecraft #philza mcyt #niki nihachu #niki mcyt #ranboo #ranboo mcyt #tw death #tw gore #tw violence #tw torture #rivalsblr #rivalstwt #dream smp

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angelanimedesaray · 3 years

Text

Wings in the Dark Chapter 6: Stories From the Dark

AN: I feel like this chapter should have been posted around Halloween, but there was NO WAY I was waiting that long XD Also its a bit short, I think, to me, it goes a little quick, partially because I didn’t want to have to write Levi wandering around this little town this whole time having all this meaningless chit-chat meant to fish information, I decided summarizing was best with detail where it counted XD

Characters: Levi, Fem!Vampire!Reader (Mentioned), Erwin, Various OCs and BG Characters

Pairing: (Eventual) Levi x Fem!Vampire!Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of Violence, Descriptions of Murder Aftermath, Description of Fatal Injuries, Description of Buried Alive, Descriptions of Injuries, Language

Word Count: 5188

<----Previous Chapter Masterlist Next Chapter---->

*Levi's POV*

While taking such a sudden few days off might have caused a couple bumps in the way things were developing around HQ, but he knew Erwin would be able to handle it and smooth things over, so he stayed focused on the task at hand.

Stripped of any signia, symbol, or uniform resembling clothes that could suggest that he was part of the military, Levi was dressed in plainclothes, having taken a carriage out to L/N’s supposed hometown early in the morning. He still arrived with plenty of time in the day to investigate the town and see what he could find on-site, taking in the small, easily overlooked town that was more of a loose collection of homes bordered by farms, with a central farmer’s market to keep some local trade and business going. Any serious buying and selling probably consisted in a day’s trip to one of the larger towns within Wall Rose, but it seemed they had basic foodstuffs here. He managed to find a blacksmith tucked away in a corner between a small grouping of houses, as well as an old, empty building that had a weathered carpentry sign in front of it. So there had been more trade smiths around here, before the town gradually lost those businesses.

Talking casually with the blacksmith informed Levi that a ways past the farms, there was a home that was the reason for most of their outside visitors--people who could afford to would put their elderly loved ones in the care center, and there was a separate building for the mentally ill to live comfortably and get the care they needed as well. Visitors to the town usually consisted of relatives visiting their loved ones in the homes, or they were descendants that had moved away but came back for the occasional hometown or family visit.

Which meant Levi, having no ties himself and not knowing about the homes, stuck out a bit despite his best efforts. The communities of small towns were tightly knit and they knew their own, so it couldn’t be helped, and he would have to deal with the fact everyone was going to be curious why he was here.

While talking with the blacksmith, he also heard that the carpentry shop had been the family trade for the Frazier family--the family who lost the daughter sharing L/N’s first name. With the murder of their only child, there was no one to take on the family business, and the building had fallen into disrepair after the parents had gone to the home outside town.

That had caught Levi’s interest. They’d been in the home for years judging from the sign alone, and the impression he’d received was that only the well off could supply their own stay at the home, or their family members paid for it. If there were no children to pay for them, and they’d only been a small carpentry business in a no-name town, how could they afford to be in the home? He doubted it was by the grace of the community, though it was a possibility considering the tragedy that had happened here.

Moving on from the blacksmith so he didn’t ask too many questions in one place, Levi made a mental note to make his way up to the homes to investigate the still-living parents of the original Y/N. Making his way to the farmer’s market, Levi perused for any small town hidden treasures and struck up conversations, looking for a town gossip to get talking about the town’s history so that he could eventually hear the more personal tale of the double homicide than the technical report Erwin had scrounged up for him.

While trying to get the man selling the baked goods to be a little more forthcoming, Levi overheard a small group of children, three or four gathered around each other as one of the older children attempted to scare the smallest of the group with a surprisingly gristly tale.

“...clawed at the wood of the coffin, screaming for someone to hear her, too afraid to realize her screams took up what little air she had. Her fingernails broke and blood coated the coffin, her elbow busted open as she pounded and shrieked for help, but no one could hear her so far beneath the dirt. Some say she did manage to break the wood, but halfway through the dirt falling on her she couldn’t breathe, and body’s still frozen in her silent scream, so close to freedom, no one above ground aware of the terror she felt before she truly died. Now, so she doesn’t feel so alone, Screaming Sally’s ghost crawls out of her grave and drags children like you from their beds and drags them into her coffin below ground.”

The poor youngest was visibly trembling, tears of fright in their eyes before one of the other kids shouted and grabbed them, making the youngest shriek and cry as they laughed and continued to pick on them.

“Tch.” Levi turned to them, a glare in his eyes that he pinned on the older kids who should have known better. “Oi! Cut it out.”

Spooked by the scary voice, and even more so by the scary man they saw glaring at them, the older kids bolted, with the youngest running away once they were free of the older kids, most likely to run home and find comfort from a parent.

Levi turned his attention back to the stall in front of him, a woman beside him buying a basket of rolls as he scowled over the childishly cruel display he’d just seen.

“That’s one messed up horror story for kids to be telling each other,” he muttered, paying for a loaf of bread and waiting for the man to finish wrapping it for him. The woman beside him turned with a small shrug.

“All the children around here know about that stupid story about Screaming Sally. It’s been around for decades, and at this point, it’s almost a rite of passage to hear it eventually.”

Levi looked at her, sensing he might have someone who would be willing to share if he asked the right questions. “How did it start?”

The woman sighed, shaking her head. “Some poor caretaker for the graveyard by the woods about forty years back snapped after that double homicide and started trying to tell people one of the girls crawled out of her grave. Everyone knows it’s impossible, not to mention the grave was undisturbed when folks checked in the morning after seeing how sincere he was. They had to put him in the home because he kept insisting he saw it, and eventually the story turned into the Screaming Sally legend the kids are always sharing to scare each other.”

Levi’s head tilted slightly to the side, eyes widening momentarily in surprise as the unsuspected connection jumped out at him.

For the briefest moment, he was looking back up at Kenny years ago as Kenny shared some outlandish story to try and scare him. When Levi had called out it’s legitimacy and accused him of spewing a nonsense legend that wasn’t even possible, he’d suddenly appeared a little serious, a small frown appearing beneath the brim of that signature hat of his as he gave Levi the reply that now rang in his ears.

“There’s always a little truth to every legend.”

Pretending his surprise was over something else the woman had said, Levi took the chance to try and pry the local story from her.

“Double homicide? Out here?” Levi asked, suggesting that kind of thing never happened in places like this.

In his opinion, they were more likely to happen out here, since it was so damn isolated.

As Levi took his wrapped loaf, the two started to walk together, just a little further down the path as she indulged his curiosity.

“I know--it’s the darkest stain on this town’s history. Still unsolved, too--one of those locked room murders I think they call them. Y/N Frazier and Victoria Schultz. The Fraziers’ daughter had been out late the night before and came to her parent’s home to rest instead of going back to her own home. She was sick the entire next day, and her best friend Victoria came to visit her. Sometime between the moment Victoria and Y/N were in the room together to the time the Fraziers checked in on them a few hours later, some psychopath managed to find their way into the room, tore Victoria apart beyond recognition, and disappeared with the Frazier girl. Without the Fraziers hearing anything amiss! The police thought it might have been the Frazier girl, because it was the only possible explanation considering the bedroom door was locked and any attacker would have had to come in through the window, and neither girl made a sound, so perhaps Victoria knew her attacker--but Y/N’s body showed up on the edge of the woods a few days later, poor girl. They never found out who did it, or what exactly happened. It still haunts the people in the town who are old enough to remember it.”

As the woman spun the more personal version of the tale, Levi’s mind filled in the gristly details that had been in the report he’d read. How there had been hardly any blood left in the mutilated girl left behind lying on the bed, but far less in the room than there should have been, how L/N’s namesake had been found lying just within the forest’s edge, neck bruised and broken, as well as several bones, covered in bruises and lacerations. It was a closed-casket funeral for both. They had no leads, no one with a motive, no mysterious footprint or shadowy figure seen leaving the crime scene. They’d just been murdered out of nowhere, and nothing like it had happened anywhere near the town ever since. It was a sudden, violent anomaly in their history, and one that was going to leave a mark that would never disappear.

Levi said goodbye to the woman with the bread roll basket, standing in the middle of the road with his gaze turned towards the homes he’d been told about, a thoughtful frown on his face.

It seemed he had two reasons to visit this place: the Fraziers and the caretaker.

Once there, as curious as he was, Levi decided against visiting the Fraziers and asking about the events of forty years ago. From what he’d been able to dig up, it was likely something that still haunted them to this day, and he wasn’t here to terrorize the elderly.

He did, however, pry into who was paying for their stay at the home. Once at the front desk, he suggested that he wanted to pay for their stay, asking after the amount it would take and how often, before insisting whatever payments they were making themselves stop so they wouldn’t have to pay out of their own pockets. At that point, he’d been politely turned down, the secretary informing him that the Fraziers already had an angel donor who was paying regularly for their stay at the home.

“Can I get a name so I can talk to them about splitting the payments?” Levi asked, leaning forward slightly in anticipation.

“I’m sorry, but...angel donors are what we call anonymous donors who don’t have any ties to the family but still pay for their care. We don’t know who makes the payments, only that they’re made regularly and on time, so Mr. and Ms. Frazier can spend the rest of their days here. I have no name to give you, not that I could, considering that would be sensitive information,” the secretary said politely, though there was a bit of a chill in her voice brought about by Levi’s questioning. He ignored it, busy mulling over this new detail.

He had no evidence to support it, no reason to suspect it, but what if the angel donor was L/N? He knew she was looking for ways to cut costs with how she spent her money, it was one of the reasons she had the tea garden at HQ--it would save her money in the future by cutting costs she spent on things like tea. And her lack of personal belongings could also be from a lack of money to buy nice things for herself. What if the money she saved from her salary was going towards the Fraziers’ well-being?

Again, he had no evidence. It was just a thought, a far-fetched theory, but it was something to take note of and consider, just in case it wasn’t far off the mark.

Getting the hint from the secretary and knowing he was at a dead end as to who was taking care of the Fraziers, at least for what he would find here in town, Levi moved on to the next objective.

“All right, well, I also came to talk to someone in the psychiatric home. He used to be a cemetery caretaker about forty years ago.”

Recognition immediately sparked in her eyes, as well as a bit of apprehension. “We’ll need you to sign in, as well as put down a reason for visiting.”

“Fine,” Levi replied, taking the paper she slid over and writing Jacob, no last name--not that he’d have one to give even if he was using his actual name--and then wrote down social visit before handing it over. Her eyebrows rose slightly and her gaze flickered up to him from the paper, and Levi gazed back at her calmly, waiting patiently for her to at least direct him the proper way.

“Room seventeen. Follow me,” she said, leading them out the door--since they’d been in the home for the elderly--and a little ways away to the other building that acted as the psychiatric home. Once inside she led Levi up two flights of stairs and down a fairly long hall to let Levi into the room marked seventeen in white paint. “Mr. Briarton, you have a visitor,” she said after opening the door, allowing Levi to step into the room and take in a man in his late fifties, early sixties, suspicious pale green eyes narrowed at Levi as he stepped inside.

“I don’t knows you,” the man rasped.

“Jacob,” Levi said bluntly, stepping deeper into the room and staying conscious of the fact the secretary was temporarily lingering to make sure everything was going to be all right. “I came to hear your story.”

“Hah? Here to mock an old man?” Briarton sneered.

“No. Just to listen,” Levi responded simply. Briarton sized Levi up for a moment, then looked at the secretary still standing in the doorway and gave a small wave.

“We’re fine, Janice, you can leave now. I’s knows the rest of you’s is tired of hearin’ my tale.”

“Are you sure, Mr. Briarton.”

“Eh,” he grumbled, and Janice sighed and shut the door, leaving the two of them behind. “Why exactly are you’s interested in hearin’ my story? Everyone else says I’m’s crazy. Locked me up for it, too!”

“I’ve heard the town legends. Someone I knew used to say there’s always a bit of truth to the legends. So I’m here looking for the truth,” Levi answered, leaning up against the wall with arms folded over his chest.

“Hmm…” Briarton hummed, contemplating Levi’s reason before he sighed. “I’s guessin’ you’s already heard ‘bout the murders, if you’s here.”

At Levi’s nod, Briarton skipped over the events that came before, and went right to talking about the burial. “Closed caskets they’s were. Victoria had a pine box, Mr. Frazier insisteds on makin’ Y/N’s hisself, out of willow. We’s buried them midday, six feets down in the grounds, six feets dried earth on those boxes. I’s told they’s were both dead for sures, no comin’ back--specially poor Victoria. Schultz’s weren’t allowed to sees hers it was so bad. Course we’s all thoughts abouts it, we’s all hoped back then the killer’d get caught. People kept comin’ by till it gots too dark and I’s closed the cemetery for the’s night. My’s job was to make sure no ones messed with the graves, and I’s was patrollin’ like usual, and for the’s longest time, I didn’t hear nut-thin. But sometime in the wee hours of the mornin’, as I’s was comin’ up on the girls’s graves, I saw somethin’ movin on the ground on tops of one. I’s went to yells at them, to tell ‘em kids to scram, cause that’s what I’s thoughts they were. But when I’s got close enough to see a bit better, I’s realized they’s was comin’ up from the ground--outta the ground. I’s was frozen in place, watchin’ them’s drag themselves out of the dirt, clawin’ across the ground likes a wounded animal. I’s was tryin’ to scream, but I’s couldn’t makes a sound.”

Briarton stopped, his wide eyes turned towards Levi. “Do you’s know how heavy the dirts is on a coffin? How hard it is to break open a coffin? Impossible’s what it is! My’s brother once locked me’s in one to scares me, and my’s mother lost it whens she found out. I’s was kickin’ and screamin’ for what’s felt like hours tryin’ to break out, but all I’s got from it was bloody hands and elbows. Ands that was without the dirts on tops of it. But I’s swears this girl busted out and crawled outta hers grave. Even if she’s managed to breaks the coffin, she’d’da been crushed bys the dirts. But she’s still crawled outta hers grave. She’s stood up, covered in fresh bloods and dirts, and she’s shoved dirt backs into the hole she’s crawled outta like a drunkard, gaspin’ and wheezin’ and wailin’ like a banshee, an’ then she’s disappears into the night. An’ I’s ran for help, jus’ to get calleds crazy and locked up in here.”

Levi listened to Briarton’s tale in silence, studying the man’s face closely as he spoke to see if the man truly believed every word he was saying. The terror in the man’s eyes was real, though, as he spoke of the impossibility of the haunting image, and there was no trace of insincerity in his face as he spoke. He truly believed in the tale he was telling. Considering the impossibility of it all, Levi also doubted, but he wasn’t going to call him out on in--enough people already believed this man crazy, Levi wasn’t going to add himself to the mix.

He only had one question.

“Who was the woman who crawled out of her grave?” Levi asked steadily, though the crawl of his skin as he said it told him he already knew the answer. He just wanted to hear Briarton say it.

“Y/N Frazier.”

The day had cooled--in fact, it was starting to feel chillier, the sun frequently hidden by clouds that seemed to be gathering across the sky, hinting at fouler weather on the horizon. After taking his leave of Briarton at the home, Levi went looking for the now infamous cemetery--infamous in his mind, at least--and had made his way to the grave of one Y/N Frazier, where he now stood in silent contemplation, staring intently at the headstone that had engraved upon its surface the girl’s name, a birthday and date of death that showed she had barely been in her twenties, and a brief, “Beloved Daughter.”

He wasn’t really seeing the grave anymore, though. His mind was a flurry of thoughts, theories, memories, information...none of the connections he’d made here made any kind of sense to him, but there were far too many to be ignored. There was something here, something that seemed to be staring him in the face, but he couldn’t see what it was, so he couldn’t use it. Not yet, anyway.

Maybe Briarton really was crazy, maybe he hadn’t seen Y/N Frazier crawl out of that grave that night and he’d simply snapped like everyone suggested he had. But there was nothing to have caused him to snap, no trigger. Not to mention, the sheer coincidence was far too strong to be a coincidence.

So, he entertained the possibility that the bizarre and impossible happened, that Y/N Frazier somehow survived, a mistake had been made somewhere and she was buried alive, and managed to crawl out of this very grave. Ignoring the impossibility of that scenario still didn’t give him many answers. If Y/N Frazier was still alive, she would have been sixty, seventy years old by now. L/N back at the Scout Headquarters was in her early twenties, and very clearly /not dead/. So, L/N definitely wasn’t this Y/N Frazier.

But that didn’t mean she couldn’t be related somehow. If the original girl did survive, it would be possible for L/N to be Frazier’s daughter, maybe even grand-daughter, though that was starting to push the theory beyond what he was willing to suspend believing as impossible.

One thing the Screaming Sally horror story had made him remember, and that Briarton’s recounting had brought to the front of his mind to offer him another connection, was the conversation the other day between the rest of his Squad and L/N.

He remembered the tremble in her hand, the stillness in her posture, the flash of soul-deep fear, trauma, and pain in her eyes as L/N had softly stated that her biggest fear was being buried alive.

He had something big here, but he wasn’t sure where it fit in this messed up puzzle he was trying to solve, and was missing some key piece that connected it to something else. He needed more than ever to see what she was doing in the Underground when she snuck out at night--whatever it was, he was convinced at this point it was the missing piece he needed to make sense of all of this.

But first, he needed to do something that would give him a definitive answer amongst all these legends and tall tales.

It was a new low for him, he knew that. The entire ordeal felt wrong and filthy on an entirely new level, but it was something he had to do. No one else had thought to look, to disturb the grave of one of the murdered girls to see if there was any validity to Briarton’s claims, to the stories of Screaming Sally. Everyone brushed it off as nonsense and went about their day, probably because it was so certain, and it was easier to believe the horror stories were nonsense.

Levi didn’t have that luxury. He didn’t have the certainty, and the easier route was not the one he was going to take. He needed answers. So, he’d returned briefly to Headquarters in order to enlist Erwin’s help to give him the opportunity late that very same night to dig up the grave and settle once and for all whether Y/N Frazier had died. It would help clear up some of the questions and theories when he found her body in the coffin, and it might put them back at square one in figuring out why this place and this name had been chosen by Y/N, but it would help bring them back to a world that made some sense, and it would help weed out a few questions that these legends and stories had brought up.

He didn’t want to think of the implications if the grave was empty. He doubted it would be, but if it was...then this entire mess went far deeper than he could ever imagine.

Perhaps that was why Erwin agreed to help him, why he’d paid off the caretaker to make sure the grave was empty but leave the section Levi was going to be in undisturbed until Levi left. Erwin clearly hadn’t approved of disturbing a gravesite, especially the gravesite of a murder victim, but Levi had strongly believed it was necessary despite his own misgivings, so Erwin had relented.

Now, Levi was in a hole that passed his head, digging the last few inches to the willow coffin Y/N Frazier had been buried in, filthy and tired but determined to get to the bottom. Just a little further, and he would have his answer. He would see the bones in an undisturbed grave, fill in the grave once more, go home, wash up, hate himself for a while for doing this to confirm what he already knew, and then go back to trying to figure out why L/N seemed so deeply connected to this place.

He hadn’t found any bodies frozen on its way to the surface, so he could already rule out the legitimacy of the children’s scary story about Screaming Sally, at least.

The shovel Levi was using scraped against something solid, and Levi paused. Here it was. He’d found it.

Kneeling down, Levi started brushing away at dirt so he could find the coffin lid, fingers brushing against wood, hand brushing a little harder to smooth away dirt--

He had to pull his hand back as he unexpectedly came into contact with splintered wood sticking up into the dirt, piercing his hand and drawing blood as he jerked in surprise, breath catching.

No…

A few more careful brushes with his hand, and he was staring at a coffin lid that had been busted open, shards of wood buried in dirt, but the hole clearly enough for a person to crawl out of. He froze where he was as he stared at the sight before him, the odd, irrational fear that a hand was going to burst out of the hole and grasp his wrist strangely flashing through his mind before he pushed it aside. He wasn’t breathing anymore, an admittedly trembling hand reaching out to pull back the lid, just to double check and confirm what he was seeing.

The grave was, in fact, empty. The coffin was busted open with gouges that had old red stains upon them, as if it had been punched and clawed through from the inside.

His blood running cold and his breaths shallow, Levi had to fight not to think of the haunting image Briarton had described, the fear in L/N’s eyes, and the mental image of a woman trapped in this grave screaming and crying for help, having to tear apart her own body and defy all odds to crawl her way to the surface, tried not to imagine the terror of being buried alive like this.

Kenny had been right. There was always a bit of truth to the legend. He never imagined it would be this much truth, though.

When Levi returned to HQ, the first thing he did was clean himself up and get changed. Then, he made himself some of the tea L/N had gifted him, choosing one of the blends meant to calm in the hopes that it would help settle his nerves after what he’d seen.

Outside, he might still appear stoic, but inside, he was shaken.

Once he was clean, he had his tea, and he felt he had a better grip on himself internally and he was ready for the conversation, he went to Erwin’s office and very solemnly relayed his findings to the man, who looked no less disturbed by this unexpected turn of events than Levi had been. They’d expected some kind of secret while digging into the truth about L/N, they hadn’t been expecting a full blown conspiracy on this level.

Once Erwin was up to speed on Levi’s findings, they started to hash out some theories and details, both of them well aware that they were still missing something crucial as they attempted to make a broader picture with the pieces they were currently in possession of.

The running theory they were working with was that Y/N Frazier was L/N’s mother. It was the most logical connection they could come up with, even though it dumped a whole new slew of questions into this mess.

Why did Frazier run after she crawled out of her grave? Why not return to her home and family, alive and well? Why leave the town behind and everyone in it believing she’d died so terribly? Why never come back to tell who had attacked her and her friend Victoria? What happened that night forty years ago? How had she managed to crawl her way out of a grave? Why had she instead disappeared somewhere inside the walls never to be discovered or heard from again, hiding her true identity remarkably well? Or more importantly, how had she been alive? How did she survive those injuries? Had a mistake been made and she’d been assumed dead? Was the report faked?

How was the Underground supposed to come into play in all of this, and what part did L/N have in it as well? If Frazier was indeed L/N’s mother, was Frazier still alive and living in the Underground? Was that why L/N went down there every now and then? Why not bring her mother to the surface with her? Why, when she came to the surface, did L/N take Frazier’s first name and not use her last name? Why not use her real name? How did the events of forty years ago play into now, and how had it had an affect on L/N?

As always, whenever they uncovered something about L/N, it always came with a thousand more questions. They could theorize all they wanted, but it wouldn’t bring them closer to finding the answers that they craved at this point.

And still, despite the shock and the...unease he had felt to find the empty grave and realize the reality of what happened in that town--or at least part of it--Levi still felt like there was another reality altering twist in this dark tale that was unraveling in front of them that would be far worse. He still felt like they were far off the mark, that the still failed to understand the reality of what they were stepping into. More than ever, Levi felt there was something dark behind this, and he began to feel the first hints of malice surrounding these secrets.

Whatever L/N was hiding, at this point, Levi knew it had to be dangerous.

Erwin’s concerned eyes probed Levi’s expression as Levi gazed at the empty teacup in front of him, well aware that despite his feeble attempt to calm his nerves and thoughts, he wasn’t going to be able to sleep tonight.

“Levi--” Erwin started to say in a grave tone of voice, but Levi cut him off. He knew what Erwin was about to say, and he already knew what he had to do next.

“I know. All I’m waiting for now is for her to make the next move. This time, she won’t shake me.”

Next Chapter---->

Levi Tags: @clary-quinn @humanitys-hottestsoldier@whalerus @sunny-flo @thirstyforsometea

Wings in the Dark Tags: @regalillegal @animeluver23 @theshylittleelfgirl @queenthorin1 @dilucs-thighs @sociallyanxiousmouse

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frostedfaves · 3 years

Text

Haunt (7)

Masterlist

Pairing: civilian!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: Three women on a bridge, two pairs of feet on the ledge, and one problem that’s easier to solve than you think.

Warnings: angst (but maybe fluff later? 👀), ghosts/demons, slightly graphic blood mentions, attempted bridge jumps/suicide, funeral/car crash/death/grief mentions

A/N: I won’t say that this is the last chapter because I do have an idea for an epilogue...it’s just a matter of whether or not I can execute it properly. anyway, can’t wait to hear your thoughts on what I hope is not a shitty (almost) conclusion!

Previous part

“Hey, I thought you were at Wanda’s tonight?” Mia asked, greeting you with a smile as you passed her on the way to your room.

“I am. I just have to grab something.”

You closed the door behind yourself and opened your closet door, using an old storage bin to climb up and reach the tallest shelf. Once the locked box was safely in your hands, you stepped down and grabbed the key taped to the back of your dresser on your way to the bed. The journal and newspaper tumbled out as soon as you unlocked the top, and you took a deep breath to distract yourself from the sudden wave of nausea.

“There.”

You looked up to see a shadowy finger pointing at the picture in the article, and seeing the wreckage again in your conscious state seemed to knock the air out of your lungs.

“That’s home.”

“That’s not home,” you snapped as you met her eyes. “That’s nothing but a grim reminder of what used to be.”

“It’s home, and you’re going there.” When you blinked, you saw a flash of Wanda bleeding out in the same spot you left her, and you gasped as your eyes opened again. “Glad to see I have your attention. Let’s go.”

You quickly made your way out of the apartment again, leaving the light on in your room because you were afraid of what you would see in the dark corners. Once you were in your car, you began your drive down to the place you hadn’t seen since the accident, parking a few feet away from the stop sign with an upset stomach and a heavy heart. As you got out of the car again, you noticed the pole you’d crashed into had been replaced and all the glass and debris were long gone.

“Why am I here?” you questioned, keeping your voice low to match the atmosphere of the nearly silent neighborhood.

“You’re supposed to be on the bridge.”

“The crash didn’t happen there,” you recalled, but you found your feet moving toward the metal staircase anyway.

Your heartbeat seemed to line up with your echoing steps as you made your way up to the bridge, and a sinking feeling told you that this may be the last setting sun you see. Your eyes watered in the orange light as you faced the crash scene again, managing to keep your eyes on it as you climbed onto the ledge and took a seat.

“Why are you sitting?”

“Because I don’t want to do this,” you exhaled as you began to cry again. “I know why you brought me here but I don’t want to do it.”

“Well, I didn’t want to die because you don’t know how to look both ways in an intersection, but here we are.”

“I looked both ways, but the other driver was speeding! How is that my fault?”

“I told you--begged you--not to leave me behind and you did.”

“For fucks sake!” you yelled as you turned your head toward her. “I had to call for help so you wouldn’t die in the car!”

“Instead, you let me die alone in a hospital room. Huge improvement.”

You dropped your head to watch your fingers run along the concrete, listening for any kind of noise from the surrounding area and sighing when there wasn’t a single sound to be heard. Part of you was certain that the being beside you had something to do with that, but you couldn’t be bothered to ask anything else when you knew it might just start a fight. You hated the way it made you feel, taking you back to that very night when you were walking on eggshells around your extremely intoxicated best friend.

“Get up,” the voice suddenly snapped, and you groaned once you recovered from the shock.

“I told you I’m not ready!”

“It’s either you or her.”

The sound of car doors closing came from your left, and you seemed to move on autopilot as you stood up on the ledge, keeping your eyes on the pair as you did so. The wave of nausea grew taller and lasted longer, and you felt the familiar trails down your cheeks headed for your chin.

“Don’t come any closer,” you finally managed to say, feeling a bit of relief when they stopped.

“Baby, please come down,” Wanda choked out, and oh how you wish she hadn’t spoken. Just hearing a second of her soothing voice made you want to run into her arms and never look back, but you knew who would pay the price if you did that.

“I can’t...I have to do this,” you sobbed as you heard the voice from the other side encouraging you to hurry in an angry tone. “It’s the only way to stop her.”

“Y/N, I know it seems that you’ve made up your mind…” You watched Mia pull something from her pocket and hold it up in the air. “...but if you give me a chance, I think I may be able to change it.”

You squinted a bit to try and figure out what she was holding without allowing her to come closer. Every bone in your body yearned to gravitate toward the pair, knowing that you’d feel safer and comforted once you were surrounded by their warmth, but the furious protests stopped you from doing so.

“I’ve had too many chances,” you fought back, frowning when you noticed Wanda locked eyes with Mia for a second before facing you again.

“If you’re going to jump, then I’m coming with you,” she told you calmly as she climbed onto the ledge a short distance away, and you instantly panicked.

“No, you can’t do that!”

“Why not?” she challenged you.

“Because I love you, and I don’t want you to die, especially not like this. You deserve so much better.”

“So do you!” she cried out as she dared to take a step toward you. “Why do you think I’m here?”

“No, Wan, I have to die,” you insisted as you took a step back. “I’ve loved every second of being with you and you’re nothing short of perfect, but I should’ve died a long time ago with my friend. She didn’t deserve to go alone.”

“If she was really your friend, she wouldn’t want this for you.” She took another step, and you found yourself falling into her comforting gaze. “She’d want you to live the life she couldn’t.”

“I hear her everyday, and I don’t think she agrees with you.”

“Okay, so I’m not a therapist obviously,” Mia cut in as the two of you faced her from the ledge. “But are you sure you aren’t just hearing the voice of your own guilt?”

“What?” was all you were able to get out as the raging voice behind you seemed to quiet down.

“You told me that she kissed you and confessed her feelings for you before you left the party. No matter how angry or emotional she was in that moment of you turning her down, she wouldn’t be haunting you like this if she really loved you. Whether it was friendly love or more.”

“Don’t listen to her. She wasn’t there.”

You turned to the other side to glance at your ‘friend’, who seemed to look a lot less like her now. Bitterness and rage became evident in her expression, which really seemed to help Mia’s point. You almost never saw her direct those emotions toward you, even when you’d done something wrong. Still, you had to be sure.

“What were you going to show me?” you asked as you turned to look at Mia again.

“It’s the obituary from the funeral,” she explained as she began unfolding it. “I know you didn’t go, so I thought maybe you’d like to hear what your best friend really thought of you. Her parents included a page from an old journal they found.”

You listened with tears in your eyes as you heard the girl who was once the first and last person you spoke to everyday describe you with words you’d never even considered for yourself. With each sentence, it was more and more obvious that she’d been in love with you far longer than you realized, and the thought comforted you more than it hurt, to your surprise. As the dam broke and breathing became a bit harder, you turned to the entity one more time and a look of understanding seemed to pass between the two of you. You understood that you weren’t in the company of a friend, and she understood that you could no longer be fooled.

“I’m sorry,” you addressed Wanda as you carefully approached her on the ledge, grabbing her hands as they stretched toward you. “I know I’ve put you through hell in the last few months, but I promise to only make you feel as loved as you’ve made me feel, even at my lowest.”

“You already do, detka.”

You couldn’t help but grin as she wiped away any lingering tears with her thumbs before stepping off the ledge and pulling you down into a bone-crushing hug. A breathless laugh escaped you as Mia crashed into you from behind, and you sat there in a comforting silence for another few minutes. You tossed your keys to Mia once you pulled apart after she offered to take your car home, catching a glimpse of the daunting presence as you looked out onto the street below. She was staring at you from beside the pole that replaced the one you crashed into with blood pouring down her side, and just when you felt yourself getting a bit worked up again, Wanda’s warm fingers squeezed yours and reminded you of the safe haven you’d been gifted.

“Thank you for making it in time,” you told Wanda once you were sitting in the car. “You always know the right thing to say or do and when, and I thought maybe it was a side effect of teaching small children for years. Really, it’s just a side effect of being a perfect angel.”

She let out a surprised giggle at your words and leaned over to kiss you for the first time in hours. She didn’t let it go far, simply pulling away and lacing her fingers through yours again as she drove off the bridge and began heading home.

“I never thought I’d say this, but I’m really glad I ran out of paprika.”

Tags: @littlegasps @peggycarter-steverogers @imnotasuperhero @natasha-danvers @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @trikruismybitch @cristin-rjd @slut-for-nat @honeyvenable @nazyalenskysbabe @stickystudentlightmug @choni-trimberly @thedragonzland @dylxn-lee @cordeliaswhore @ravvakin96 @leximills2004 @smolgayhooman @ajlawinters @sanctuaryofgods777 @midnightreme @moonlightxmadness

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x fem! reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch #avengers x reader #avengers x you #avengers x fem!reader #avengers imagine #avengers #the avengers #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #marvel

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foreverwcnter · 4 years

Text

cardigan / p.p

pairing: peter parker x stark!reader

summary: “you thought i was dead?” after you go missing with no leads to what happened, you are presumed dead and peter writes letters addressed to you, to help with his grief

word count: 3k

requested: no

warnings: semi character death, heartbreaking angst :( , fluff

a/n: this is for @ariistotles lovely writing challenge! i am using prompt 9 for my fic and i hope you guys enjoy!

two days. forty-eight hours. two thousand eighty minutes. one hundred seventy-two thousand, eight hundred seconds. that’s how long you had been missing. the team of avengers, including desperate peter parker sat around a table, staring at the very little evidence they had of your disappearance. it was only two nights ago when you and peter had been cuddled in bed and you had left to go home.

evidently, you never returned home.

peter ran his hands through his hair with frustration, eyes bloodshot red from crying. he was terrified and guilty, knowing if he had just walked you home, he wouldn’t be staring at the picture of you on the screen in front of him.

“we have no leads,” sam wilson stated,” the only evidence is this cardigan.”

peter knew you were wearing it when you left. he recognized the cute patches of stars scattered on the knitted sleeves and the oversized buttons along the ends. it was always so big on you, he didn’t think you would have bought it from that thrift store, but the moment you laid eyes on it, you fell in love with it. you had fixed up the holes and messed up seams, it looked like something someone would shove under a bed. but you took it into your care.

“she was wearing that after she left my apartment,” peter explained, voice cracking. the entire time he had been silent as they investigated your disappearance. “she almost forgot it but i reminded her.”

peter took a glance at the cardigan, instantly taking notice of the blood-stained sleeves.

“we have to find her,” he finally added, one tear slipping down his cheek. tony hadn’t spoken at all, and peter knew why. peter understood what it felt like to lose someone. there was a chance you’d be found again, but it was slim. you were just gone.

the next few days were hell for peter. they hadn’t found anything and all he wanted to believe was that you were at least alive. everyone around him seemed to be giving up already. peter had even overheard tony talking with the other avengers, thinking that you weren’t alive and he’d have to plan a funeral. peter refused to give up, he couldn’t believe the idea that you were dead. there was only a glimmer of hope left in some of the avengers. every day that passed, the more likely it was that you were dead. it wasn’t until two months of searching, they finally gave in.

tony kept the funeral private. it took everything in peter to just crawl out of bed that early morning and may had to help him tie the tie for his suit. his hands trembled too much to get it straight. he didn’t want to believe you were gone, but by this point, he was giving up himself. everything at the funeral was dark, the opposite of what you were like. you always had the brightest of smiles, your hair would always smell like fresh daisies from a meadow. everyone who gathered around was silent, staring at an empty casket, watching it get lowered into the ground.

peter found himself alone after the casket was six feet under and collapsed to his knees in front of the gravestone. tears openly fell down his face, as he stared at the name written on the stone. y/n stark. he wanted to stop making events like this so familiar. first his parents, then uncle ben. now you. the love of his life, the person he dreamed of marrying. some people see this as an unattainable fantasy because when you are young, they assume you know nothing. but peter was sure. you were supposed to be the one. his endgame. but you were gone.

a hand tapped his shoulder revealing the familiar face of tony stark. seeing him made peter fall apart as tony pulled him into a tight embrace. peter finally let it all out. with his shoulders shaking with sobs and soft cries leaving his breathless lips, peter parker was finally showing his grief.

grief was a fickle thing. it constantly changed. peter had been in such disbelief for the past months you were gone, but now he was trying to bargain with what happened. he gave his suit back to tony, he moved on from being spider-man, and tried living normally. he was trying to change himself for you. but it was hard. it took every amount of effort to bring himself out of his bedroom. the only thing that kept him going was the desire to do things you would want him to do. it didn’t take long for aunt may to take peter to a therapist. they could help him sort out the pain he was holding onto.

“tell me about her.”

“y/n was the perfect example of joy,” peter admitted with a desolate tone. “she was always looking to help anyone before herself. something she got from her dad. her hair always smelled amazing, like a garden almost. she liked to braid it, and stick flowers in it. y/n got the idea from tangled…” he paused, staring at the ground. he had planned a date before you went missing. he was going to take you to a lantern festival. where you could recreate the scene from tangled. peter knew how happy it would have made you. but you were gone. you’d never see the lanterns, you’d never live that dream.

“she had a cardigan… something she found at a thrift store, on the ground without a price tag. it had holes in the sleeves and she chose to patch them up with little stars. it was always too big on her, y/n always wore it with everything. i never saw her without it. she once forgot it when we left for a road trip, made me turn around to go get it for her but i was happy to,” a rare smile came onto peter’s face as he thought about the dimples on your cheek when he had put the cardigan around you. the smile faded,” it was the only thing they found when she went missing. it had blood on it and i know something bad happened.”

“i couldn’t stop it. i couldn’t save her.”

the woman in the chair across from him said nothing, just stared at peter as he avoided her gaze. after a couple moments, she began speaking,” you need to figure out a way to say goodbye to y/n. i understand how hard that may seem, but there are ways. i want you to write letters addressed to her. just start with something normal, you don’t have to address her death in the letter, just make it between you and her. the more you write these. the easier it’ll get to let go. “

peter stared at a blank piece of paper for hours that night. he didn’t know how to start. every time he picked up the pen his hand started shaking and he was too scared to write your name. with a frustrated groan, he jumped onto his bed, face buried in his hands. normally, peter would go to you to talk out his stress, to feel your arms around him but he couldn’t have that now.

that’s when he took notice of your cardigan hung on the corner of his bed frame. he took it into his hands, letting out a sigh. it was the only thing he had left out you. the only part of you that was left behind. so peter put it around himself, pulling his arms into the sleeves. it felt like you had your arms around him again and gave him the boost he had been looking for.

so he wrote:

my love y/n,

i don’t want to talk about you being gone yet, just let me have this moment to tell you the things i didn’t say. you were perfect. you are still perfect. i know that sees unbelievable to you, but every moment i shared with you, i cherished like a child would cherish a new toy.

except i never grew tired of you. you always came with new surprises. whether it was the time i thought you had never watched star wars and you admitted to being one of the biggest star wars nerds there is or the time i caught you crying to rom coms when we were friends, wishing you had that kind of romance. you were a hopeless romantic. mj said you were always looking for a disney prince of your own. i hope i was good enough to earn that title. i hope i gave you your dream love story. because every moment i spent with you was something exhilarating and i ever wanted to pass it up.

i just hope i was enough for you.

peter knew the letter was short, but he couldn’t bear to finish. tears marked the page with scratched out words and messy handwriting. he was supposed to write a letter every day. every day until he was able to say one word. goodbye.

slowly he started getting there. very slowly.

every day he wrote a new letter. they consistently got longer, but there were days it got short. he tried his best to avoid talking about you being gone. sometimes the letters were simple, saying i went to the grocery store for the first time in awhile. i saw your favorite snack and ended up buying it. i never liked it until now. i guess you influenced me so much.

there were harder days though. these days the paper would be stained with tears and may would come into his room and would find him crying. those letters always had the words “i miss you” and questioned why you had to go so soon.

there was only one thing he always did when he was writing these letters. he was always wearing your cardigan. he even began wearing it just around the house or to school. may never failed to notice and would wash it for him to wear the next day when peter forgot. having the cardigan around him made him feel comfortable and safe. almost like you were right with him. he even wore it to his second visit with the therapist, four months after your disappearance

“it’s getting easier to write the letters,” the brunette boy admitted, fiddling with the ends of the sleeves. “i’ve wrote so many already. it’s almost like i can still talk to her, even when she’s gone.”

the woman smiled. “that’s good peter.”

“but remember, the goal isn’t to hold on, you have to let go. you have to say goodbye.”

peter hated the sound of it. he couldn’t imagine a life without you in it, he couldn’t imagine moving on from you because every day he still missed you more than anything.

it took another six months for him to finally write a final letter. ten months after you had disappeared.

my love, y/n,

this isn’t an easy one to write. these past few months have been hell but i’ve rolled with the punches. i just left flowers at your gravestone. chrysanthemums, your favorites. it’s always been hard seeing your name on that stone and not seeing you next to me.

i miss every inch of you, y/n. i miss the feeling of your lips on mine and the tender kisses you’d press on my neck. i miss watching you fall asleep, i miss running my hand over your back while you snored. i miss seeing your beautiful face, the one that never failed to make me smile. every time i see a star wars movie come on, i’m reminded of your constant rants about padmé and anakin’s romance and how badass all the women of star wars are. i even still think about the day i met you. we were just kids, and you pushed over some other little kids for me. i think that was the day i knew you were important. it only just now dawned on me.

and the best part about you was when i felt like an old cardigan, under someone’s bed, you put me on and said i was your favorite. just like the one you used to always wear.

but i think the one thing i miss the most is just your voice. you always talked me to sleep on rough nights. it’s the same voice that got me through the trials of being a hero, the one that comforted me after hard patrols and nightmares. it was the one that sang ‘i can see the light’ from the lantern scene from tangled everytime we watched it. it’s the one i miss the most and i’d do anything to hear it again, y/n.

but for now, it’s your turn to listen to me. and listen closely. i love you. you were my soulmate and i still think you are. i loved you then. i love you now. and i’ll love you forever. we’ll see each other again, because you always come back to me. you’re my angel. my love. my dream. my soulmate. my darling. the love of my life. we’re meant to be together. i know one day we’ll find each other. and when we do… i’ll never let go of you again.

y/n stark, just do me a favor. keep on being you. wherever you are. i’ll keep on being me. i’ll carry on for you.

so now i just have to say one more word. one more word that isn’t forever because i know i’ll be with you. you’ll come back to me. i’ll come back to you. because loving you is like being drunk under a streetlight. it’s the thrill of living life and some kind of light near you. even without the light being right beside you. being in love with you is the best thing that has ever happened to me.

so here it is, y/n. here it is.

goodb-

peter was interrupted as he wrote, a hard knock from the door of the apartment. for a second, he waited, but it came again. it sounded urgent by how heavy it was and how frantically the person was knocking. he stumbled out of the chair, leaving the open letter on his desk as he fumbled with the lock. once it opened, peter had begun thinking he was dreaming.

because the person standing in front of the door, was you.

with his jaw slacking, peter rubbed his eyes trying to process what was in front of him. and to think he was about to write the word goodbye, and here you were, back from the dead. his eyes watered slightly as he opened his mouth to speak but no words came. he couldn’t comprehend the fact you were alive. “ y/n… no… how? how are you here? you were dead… this can’t be real.” everything hit him like an oncoming train, he was convinced he was dreaming or hallucinating. was this a test? was this testing him to see if he was actually prepared to say goodbye?

“you thought i was dead?”

this was what brought peter back to reality. he fell to his knees so fast in front of you, the tears falling down without a doubt as sobs left his thin lips, the ones you used to kiss. everything from the past few months came pouring out. “you were dead. everyone gave up and i didn’t want to but i did. i gave up, i failed you. i did the one thing you told me not to do because i was weak. and i couldn’t hold myself together at your funeral…” you knelt down as he sobbed and choked out every word, pulling him to your chest. “i wanted you to be the one to help me, but you weren’t there. you weren’t here to hug me before and i tried holding on for you. i tried and i thought i was never going to get over it and move on and i never did. i never did, y/n ,because i love you and you are the only person who will be constant in my life even if you were to fall out of love.”

“and i wrote you letters. i wrote you so many letters. i was writing one… just before you came… it was the last one, y/n, the one where i was going to say goodbye and now here you are,” peter’s arms wrapped around your waist pulling you closer.

“you don’t have to say goodbye anymore, pete,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to the side of his head before he finally got a clear look at you. you looked no different than before. you had a a few bruises here and there, but you were alive. peter couldn’t believe just how much time passed and you were still the embodiment of beauty in his eyes.

a smile formed on his face, a dimple showing on his cheek,”i knew you’d come back to me.”

with that, he pressed his lips against yours, a hand moving up to cup your cheek as yours moved to his hair, running your hands through the messy brown curls. your lips were soft, just like they used to be and they tasted just like your favorite cherry chapstick that you used to always use. peter relished in the tender moment, butterflies coming alive in his stomach as he pressed his other hand on the small of your back. you both pulled away gently, eyes still closed with foreheads resting against each other.

“i love you,” you said gently, pressing a kiss to the tip of peter’s nose.

he returned it with his own, murmuring,” i love you more.”

his heart fluttered in the comfortable silence and the air still held the same amount of love and adoration for each other as it did before. peter never wanted to give it up and he never wanted to let it go. with the cardigan still wrapped around his shoulders and your arms around him, for the first time in months, peter finally remembered how it feels to be secure and safe.

you both finally stood up, fingers interlocked and right before you both headed inside, you glanced at peter and asked with a laugh:

“is that my cardigan?”

permanent taglist — @ariistotles @saturnpeter @skymoonandstardust @hey-its-grey @pufflypuffle @uglypastels @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @simi11 @abby-blxck @pxterbpxrker @euphoricmads @neverlandparker @fairytaleparker @dahliaspidey @thegirlwiththeimpala @pterprkr @cosmicholland @theamazingtomholland @xoxohollands @screamholland @beiroviski @sunflowerhollands

peter parker taglist — @myslightobsessions

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pastelwitchling · 3 years

Text

Cinderella (1/?)

“The death of Alex's mother changes his father for the worst. Jesse no longer sees his little prince, but a reminder of all that he has lost.

Cast away to the attic, Alex grows up under the harsh reign of the wicked man his father has become. He begins to lose hope that he will ever have the love of a family again . . . then he meets Prince Michael, and everything changes.

When Michael announces a ball, and Alex is forbidden to go, it takes the magic of a fairy godmother to make his dream come true.”

read on ao3

I have no idea how many chapters this will be, I just know that I want to do this story justice, as Cinderella is one of my favorite Disney princesses. If you enjoyed reading this even a little bit, please comment and share, as it always makes the world of a difference ❤

tags: malex, malex cinderella au, malex fluff, malex angst, malex happily ever after, so much magic, and kindness, and courage

***

“Mother!” nine-year-old Alex called as he ran through the halls of his home. “Mother!”

He followed the lovely sound of humming, like a river in the midst of sparkling spring, and found his mother in the kitchen, standing before the stove, her dark hair pulled back with a blue ribbon and her even darker eyes shining with the sunlight pouring in through the open windows.

She smiled. “Calm yourself, darling, before you wake your brothers.”

“But, mother!” Alex whined, tugging at her apron. “I’ve just had the most wonderful dream!”

His mother laughed, her voice like honey as she picked him up and placed him on the counter next to her. “Have you? And what was it about?”

“The mice!” he said eagerly. “In the gardens! They were talking to me!”

“My, that sounds exciting!”

“It was! Jacques and Gus and Marie – all of them spoke to me! We were having a tea party, and the birds poured the tea for us –”

“How very helpful of them,” his mother said with an approving nod.

“The mice thought so, too! And then they said so! And then they gave me a gift for being their friend!”

“Goodness, what did they give you?”

“A new coat!” Alex said happily. “Wasn’t that nice of them?”

“So very kind,” she agreed, and laughed, folding Alex into her chest. “Oh my darling, I’m so happy you enjoyed your tea party.”

Alex melted against her, breathing in her scent of lilacs and the leftover meat she was cooking for breakfast. She was warmer than usual, but it comforted Alex in the cold of morning. He giggled. “Mother, it wasn’t a real tea party. It was only just a dream.”

“Well,” his mother pulled back, placing her hands on her hips. “You know what they say about dreams, don’t you?”

Alex blinked, and shook his head.

His mother smiled knowingly. “A dream is a wish your heart makes.”

“But what does that mean, mother?” he asked.

“It means, my dear, that if you are good and kind and wish with all of your heart,” she winked, and poked his nose, making him laugh, “then that dream that you wish will certainly come true.”

A door opened somewhere down the hall, and Alex nearly fell off the counter in his excitement. “Father!” he called. “Father, good morning!”

Jesse Manes’ low chuckle sounded in the hallway before he stepped into the kitchen. There were spots of mud on his trousers where the boots had not reached, and he was barefoot.

“Good morning, my beautiful son!” Jesse exclaimed, raising Alex up above his head.

“Honestly, you two,” Alex’s mother laughed. “You will wake the boys!”

“Good!” Jesse said promptly, keeping Alex on his hip. “They ought to be up early, like Alex! What’re they sleeping in for?”

She shook her head, her eyes fond. “Oh, Jesse . . .”

“No, father!” Alex said. “We must be kind to them! Isn’t that right, mother?”

“My prince,” Alex’s mother cooed, taking him from a laughing Jesse’s arms. “Aren’t you wonderful?”

“It’s because he’s so much like you,” Jesse said, and kissed his wife’s cheek before kissing Alex’s as well. “My queen, and my little prince. How I treasure you.”

Alex rested his head on his mother’s shoulder, listening to his parents’ recounting of their mornings, the loveliness of the weather, the absurdity of the chickens.

If I can have one wish, Alex thought happily, then I wish for this moment to last forever. Alex closed his eyes, eager for the dream that would follow.

The following morning, however, was a less cheerful one as Alex ran to the kitchen to find his mother was not there. None of the chefs or servants had seen her. He searched outside where his father was tending to the horses himself, laughing with the stable hands. Alex looked around, but there was no sign of his mother.

Jesse spotted him, and called, “Alex! What’re you doing out in the cold, my son?”

“I’m looking for mother!” Alex said. “I can’t find her!”

He tilted his head, smiling. “Has she not awoken yet? Very odd indeed. Best go tell her the sun is up, sweetheart!”

“Yes, father!” Alex said, and off he scurried to the grand bedroom on the second floor. The pale-blue carpet lining the long hall was soft under his feet, the walls covered in framed paintings of flowers, green hills, waterfalls – all which Alex’s mother had painted herself in the garden.

Alex’s father would always ask him for his help pinning them up. “I could never do it without my little helper,” Jesse would say warmly.

When Alex reached the double doors, he knocked. “Mother!” She did not answer. Alex pulled on the door handle with both hands and went inside. The curtains were pulled back, the morning sun pouring in.

Alex almost leapt onto the bed, remembered it would be rude to wake his mother so suddenly, and stood at her bedside. Her face was red.

“Mother,” Alex whispered as softly as he could. “Mother, father says it’s time to wake up now.”

If his mother could hear him, she was pretending not to. Alex jumped a little bit on his toes. “Mother? Are you all right?”

He poked her nose, hoping to make her laugh as she always made him laugh. He faltered. It’s too warm, he thought. Alex touched her cheek, and snatched his hand back with a gasp.

Without another word, Alex ran out. He didn’t dare start calling for his father until he was back outside, afraid his mother would hear him and he would break her rest.

“Father!” he called, his voice cracking as his eyes burned. “Father, please, come quick!”

Jesse caught his son’s expression and his smile faltered. “Alex?” he hurried to him. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s mother,” Alex cried before he could help himself. “Father, her skin is like fire!”

Jesse’s face fell, and he muttered, “What?” before he ran off without waiting for Alex’s response.

Alex hurried after him, but stopped at the doorway to his parents’ room this time. He watched, his small hand gripping the doorway tightly, as Jesse murmured something incoherent to his wife, holding her up and pushing her hair back from her face.

“Darling?” Alex caught. “Darling, can you hear me? That’s right, look at me, there you are. You’ll be fine, sweetheart. Just fine.”

Alex swallowed. He was fairly certain he was carving into the wood with his nails, but he hardly felt it as he stared at the scene before him. Something that he could not describe with his young mind came over him in that moment, something paralyzing that kept him frozen at the doorway, tears falling silently, even as his father ran to get a physician. Later on, Alex would recognize that dark cloud as dread, for he had known then, though he could not say how, that his mother would not wake again.

Alex did not remember much of the funeral. Only that he and his brothers and father had worn black, that several people took their hands and wished them well, that he was hugged by friends of his mother who were always so kind and good to him. He had not cried, for he felt his body had no tears left to give. He stood there, however, long after his father and brothers left.

The weeks that followed were spent in silence. The windows were always curtained, Alex’s father did not react well to being woken in the mornings.

“Leave me,” was all he would say whenever Alex came into his room with a tray of tea and butter and bread that he had fixed himself. His eyes were so numb and dark that Alex left his chamber with tears burning, threatening to spill, every time.

“We have to help him,” Alex urged his brothers who gathered in Clay’s bedroom. Clay and Flint sat side by side, Clay staring listlessly at a page of his book, Flint shredding a daisy between his fingers.

“Leave it alone, Alex,” Flint always answered.

“He’s an adult,” Gregory always tried more softly. “He doesn’t need our help.”

“Everyone needs help,” Alex pleaded. “Perhaps if you came with me, and we all told him our favorite stories of mother –”

“Stop talking,” Clay murmured. Clay, who was always so kind to him, looked at him now as though resentful. “You don’t understand how any of us feel, you’re just a stupid child. Mother hasn’t just gone to the market, she won’t be back any moment now.”

“Clay –” Gregory started.

“—is right,” Flint finished, settling on Alex with the same glare. “Mother’s gone. You’re too young to know what that means.”

Alex clenched his fists at his sides, and he started to storm out . . . then he stopped at the door. He whipped around, his tears falling freely now.

“I know what it means,” he said fiercely. “I know that I miss her, too. I know that she wouldn’t want this. I’m not going to abandon him,” he wiped the tears roughly with his sleeve, “or any of you.”

Alex left without a word from any of them.

He tried and tried to see his father, to speak to him, even from outside his door, but Jesse did not see anyone. Slowly, more and more of the maids and servants left as Jesse failed to pay them, not that he seemed to mind. Only a few remained, and Alex was glad for the company, for his brothers seemed to rarely stomach the sight of him anymore either, though he could not tell why.

Then one day, as Alex wandered his room, stripping the dirty sheets and linens for washing – he didn’t mind helping to clean the house and feed the animals, for he felt he was helping his father best in this, the only way he could – he sang a familiar song, the first time he’d found himself able to sing it; a song his mother often sang when she cooked.

Alex waved to the birds as he passed the windows, and laughed as they flew in circles around each other. He was still singing when the door to his room suddenly swung open with a –

BANG!

Alex jumped, whipping around. His father stood there on the threshold, his robe hanging off his shoulders as he panted. His eyes were wide and red-rimmed. It was the first time he’d been out of bed. He looked around the room, frantically searching for something, then his eyes settled on Alex.

When he didn’t speak, Alex tried softly, “Father . . . are you all right?”

“I – I thought –” Jesse stammered, his brows pinched. “That song . . .”

“It was mother’s,” Alex supplied helpfully, his grip on his bedsheets tight.

His father, to his relief, didn’t seem angered or burst into tears by his words. Instead, he nodded slowly, his eyes on Alex, as though just realizing something. “Yes.” He knelt in front of Alex. “You’re so much like her, aren’t you?”

Alex’s eyes burned and his words cracked as he whispered, “I am?”

“She was lovely, too,” he said miserably, and Alex hesitated.

“Father,” he tried, “a-are you hungry? Would you like me to make you something?”

“No,” he said, wringing his hands together as he took in Alex’s room, as though it was the first time he was seeing it. “No, my son, no. I do, however, have another small request.”

Alex stood attentive at once, alert. “Yes?”

“I was hoping to move your mother’s things,” he said, “but I want them somewhere tidied and proper to her memory.”

“Oh,” Alex said at once, “I can tidy whichever room you’d like!”

“I – I know you can,” Jesse said, shutting his eyes as though Alex’s voice was worsening the headaches he’d complained of. Alex pressed his lips together, waiting. “I thought, however, it would be far more meaningful if we could put her belongings . . . here. In your room.”

“My room?” Alex blinked, and grinned widely. “Yes, of course! I’ll be happy to look after mother’s –”

“And of course,” Jesse went on, “I wouldn’t ask you to share your comfort with her old things. That’s why I’ve been thinking it may be easier for you to move into a quieter room, one that wouldn’t need so much looking after. One where you may . . .” his eye twitched, “sing to your heart’s content, and not worry about disrupting anyone’s peace.”

Alex faltered. Disrupting?

“I think the attic ought to do nicely, don’t you?”

“The attic?”

“A wonderful idea, son,” Jesse nodded, no longer looking at Alex as he stood and backed away from him. “Why don’t you gather all of this bric-a-brac and take it upstairs, eh?”

“Er – all right, father. If you really think this will help you feel better.”

“There’s my good prince,” Jesse murmured, and, his eyes still unable to meet Alex’s, he turned and left the room.

Alex clutched his sheets tightly, his heart hammering painfully in his chest. It’s all right, he thought. This is for the best. It’s for father, for my brothers. It’s for the best.

Alex kept reminding himself of that as he gathered his few things – a flower he’d picked from the garden and placed in a small wooden vase, his favorite book, and his favorite blue blanket. The attic door creaked as it swung open, and Alex heard the faint scattering of tiny paws across wooden floors.

The window was long, letting in the faint remnants of twilight and giving everything a blue and violet glow. Alex swallowed and stepped inside, setting his things on the floor before climbing onto the narrow bed. The mattress was soft, so he supposed that was good. He looked down and saw a few mice peeking their heads at him before scuttling back into the shadows.

“Don’t be afraid,” Alex said with a soft smile, though for some reason, he could not let go of the mattress. “I’m a friend. I’m terribly sorry for bothering you. At any rate, I won’t be up here long. It’s only until father feels better, you see.”

Even as he said the words, Alex’s nails dug deeper into the mattress. Even as he said them, his heart still ached and something like grief filled his chest. Why he felt such sorrow, he could not say, for he could not have known in that moment that his father would never truly ever feel better again.

#alex manes #michael guerin #malex #malex cinderella au #malex fic #malex fanfic #malex fanfiction #roswell new mexico #roswell nm #malex angst #malex fluff #tyler blackburn #michael vlamis

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perriewinklenerdie · 4 years

Text

Say you’ll be mine (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Open Heart, Ethan Ramsey x MC

A/N: Hi guys! How we feeling? We did it, fam, we finally got it. The myth, the legend, the 30 diamond scene. As always, I did a rewrite, putting my own spin on it because I am a hoe like that and I just couldn’t resist.

As you can probably guess, this piece is NSFW, proceed at your own risk.

Summary: Chapter 12 diamond scene rewrite. As the rain pours outside, their emotions and feelings bleed out of them too.

edit: don’t mind me, being a colossal dumbass that makes an edit and then forgets to put it into the post :)

Tag list: @paleweasels, @kittykatchoices, @valiantlychaoticbarbarian, @radlovedreamer , @usuallyamazinglyaverage, @awhmilkywey @palestazure, @cordoniaqueensworld, @universallypizzataco, @princess-geek, @faithhasnowords, @mightyfangirlofthefandoms, @drakewalkerfantasy, @timmagicktoad, @laceandlula, @greywitchyshots, @llamasgrl, @gingerjane15, @marywrites-things , @ethanplaysfavorites , @mfackenthal , @betelgeusebee , @simsvetements, @buzz-bee-buzz, @owleyes374, @cora-nova, @aworldoffandoms, @l822, @cream-ray, @ughhhxjazzy, @silverlitskies, @justendlesssummerfeels, @togetherwearerapture, @desmaranj, @edgiestwinter, @friedherringclodthing, @waytooattuned, @choicesgremlin , @lapisreviewsstuff, @the-soot-sprite, @writerapprentice, @chasingrobbie, @choicesobsessedd, @x-kyne-x, @thisperfectmemory, @drakewalker04, @rookie-ramsey, @jlynn12273, @thepinknymph @dr-brianna-casey-valentine, @a-i-n-a-a-s-h @justanotherrookie @mvalentine @starrystarrytrouble @akshara16 @maurine07 @natzz-b @aylamreads

Enjoy! <3

----------------

Ethan steered the car towards the curb, right outside her apartment, rain falling aggressively from every direction. The warmth that surrounded them didn’t do anything for him, his entire body still feeling as though it was still in a freezing grip of panic that hasn’t left his side for days.

“Are you okay?” Claire’s voice broke through the thick mist that fell over his mind, pulling him into the reality that was like a breath of fresh air. Her forehead was creased with worry, her usually bright eyes now dull and pensive. “I don’t think I’ve asked you that yet.”

His breath was shaking when he replied. “No, you haven’t. And no.” he shook his head, trying to shake away the cold shiver that ran through his bones at the mere thought of what had happened only days ago. “I don’t think I am okay.”

“Danny and Bobby dying hit us all hard. I’m not sure how we can ever be okay with that.” She wondered, her voice small and empty. Ethan found himself shaking his head in disagreement, his own thoughts miles away from what she was talking about.

“It’s not them I’m worried about. It’s you.”

Unable to look her in the eye and let her see all the ghosts that haunted him, all the nightmares that he suffered from, he turned his head away from her. He felt the muscles of his face tense up as his head tried, once again, to deal with the anguish, the horrific images of the moments he realized that he’s come so close to losing her. He’s felt that way before, when he decided to spend the night with her, not knowing if she would wake up in the morning.

“When Naveen was sick, I could still focus on work.” Despite his best efforts to not dwell on the past, he couldn’t help the memory of his mentor and friend, dying as all he could do at the time was watch, the mysterious illness practically eating him alive. Even though it shook him to his very core, he still managed to wake up every morning and work as though nothing was happening. The very opposite thing was happening to him now. “But now… it’s entirely different. You’re sitting here, with me. You’re completely fine and healthy, nothing endangers you, and yet all I can think of is how terrified I was that I was going to watch you die.” He felt his throat close up with incoming tears, his voice dropping an octave as he fought to speak clearly. “That I’d never get to see you again. That you’ll never hear me say…”

She interrupted him, searching with her hand for his, the touch so small and careful that it might as well have not been there at all if it wasn’t for how tuned into her presence he was. He continued after a while, all of his thoughts and terrors spilling out of him as the dam broke once again.

“I keep worrying that if I lose track of you… if I leave you alone… that it could happen again. That I won’t have the power to stop it in time… to save you.”

“Ethan, I promise, I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here.” She squeezed his hand, looking at him with such certainty, hoping it would hold both of them up so they wouldn’t fall. Ethan looked at their joined hands, breathing in and out deeply, gathering courage to finally confess what’s been wandering his mind for weeks now, too afraid to come to light until now.

“All of it makes me realize that I just… don’t want to hide anymore. I don’t know how much time we have together. All I know is that I don’t want to waste a second of it on worrying what other people might think.”

Claire’s face lit up in surprise, her expression still guarded, making him realize just how much pain his pretended indifference must have caused. “What are you saying?”

“I’m done pretending. I’m done acting like I don’t think of you every moment of my day. Like you’re not in my head all the time. I need you, Claire. Like I’ve never needed anyone else before.”

Their eyes meet in the low light of the car, illuminated only by the streetlight. He doesn’t need a mirror to know just how his eyes look. His feelings are crystal clear to him, at last, he’s able to name them all, and he knows is that it’s all her. She nodded her head gently.

“I need you too, Ethan.”

With Herculean effort, he looked away from her for just enough time to pull the car into more safe space along the sidewalk, parking it in a safe distance, no one in their immediate neighborhood that could interrupt them. The vehicle was now stable, but not a single muscle of his moved to open the door. His eyes burned with unshed tears, his vision blurring.

Claire noticed. Of course, she did.

“Don’t worry, I’m not sad… just overwhelmed.” He rushed to assure her, blinking rapidly a couple of times to will the tears away. “What you said that night in the hospital got me thinking.” Just when he thought he had a grip on himself, he slipped again, falling into the pit of despair once more. “The idea that I’d never touch you again… it was almost more than I could bear.”

His fingers shook when he reached for her hand, brushing them against her skin like she was made of glass. As though any harder contact would turn her into thin air and his worst thoughts would become reality.

“Claire, you know what I was like when I first met you. A cynic, sometimes a bully. I was burned out on seeing all those interns coming in each year, making the same mistakes over and over again.”

“Excuse me, I like to think that my mistakes were brand new, thank you very much.” she interrupted him, by some miracle maintaining a serious expression. He wasn’t that successful in it, a grin cracking his façade.

“Your mistakes were more creative than most, I’ll give you that.” They shared a quick laugh before the tone of their conversation flew back into a more serious one. “When I thought that you wouldn’t be on my team, that I wouldn’t be responsible for your development as a doctor, I thought maybe there was a chance… if the only thing at stake were my reputation, I wouldn’t have hesitated. Not even a moment.” He allowed his eyes to search for hers, watching all the emotions playing out in them as he spoke. “Once you joined my team, I worried it wouldn’t be fair to you. That I wouldn’t be able to teach you, to push you the way you needed to be pushed. And the mere thought of someone suggesting that you slept your way onto the team made me furious.”

“I mean, clearly.” She smirked, pointing out how tense he’s gotten at the simple mention of it. He laughed, nodding his head in agreement.

“You earned your place.” He continued, staring right into her eyes, his gaze conveying all the belief he had in her. “I thought I was strong enough to hold my feelings back so I could support your career. That I could… I’m sorry if I...” he trailed off, unable to gather his thoughts. She smiled widely at how flustered he was.

“Don’t be.”

“Now, I realize how foolish I was. I’ve spent days worrying about your life.” his voice cracked, tears appearing in his eyes once more. “I just can’t bring myself to care about any of those things anymore. That is, of course, if you’re feeling the same way.” he finished, uncertainty and self-consciousness finding their way into his words. His hand squeezed hers again, trying to convey all that he didn’t or couldn’t manage to say to her through the simple touch, their gazes still tightly locked, their faces subtly leaning into each other.

Before he can think even once about leaning away to give her space, she captures his lips in the softest kiss he’s ever experienced. All existing thoughts fly out of his head, wiping it blank. Hospital, isolation room, the funeral, all the people, gone in an instant. Nothing else exists, nothing else is real. Only their lips, the slow dance of their tongues, the warmth they share and the heat in their veins, ignited by even the smallest of touches.

She muttered his name against his lips before he pulled her right back in, kissing her gently once, twice, three times before he, albeit reluctantly, leaned away. His expression revealed how torn he was, between what he wanted and what he knew she needed in that moment. Or, at least, what he thought she needed.

“I’m sorry. This isn’t the right time, I know. I should be trying to take care of you, not…”

“No. It’s good.” She protested firmly, steadying her gaze on him.

“I just don’t want to push you into something you don’t want. I understand, really Claire, I do.”

She shook her head, pressing her lips to the corner of his, remaining there for a moment. “I want this. I want you.”

A wide grin spread across his face, making him look younger. “You can’t imagine how much I was hoping you’d say that.”

Ethan lifted his hand towards her face, tracing the line of her cheekbone with his index finger. Every place they touched sent sparks through him, a heat wave following soon after. He noticed how flushed she was, undoubtedly feeling the same sensation as he was in that exact moment. If that wasn’t proof enough, the fogged up windows of his car would have to do. Rain still rang heavily against the outside of the car, managing to almost drown out the sound of blood, rushing in his ears.

“Is that all you were hoping for?” she panted, her breaths shallow as she waited in anticipation for what was to come. The smile couldn’t leave his face.

“Honestly? No.” he stole one kiss after the other, futile attempt to satiate his need for her. “But I want you to tell me what you need right now. Tell me what you want me to do, Claire.”

With a cheeky grin, she winked at him and then proceeded to climb over the console to the back of the car.

“Where are you going?” he asked with wide eyes, confused. Once seated comfortably, she crooked her finger, inviting him to join her.

“So much more space…” she trailed off, smirking suggestively at him. Placing her hand at the seat next to her, she patted the leather slightly, silently asking again. Wordlessly, he got out of the car, rushing to get back inside through the back door. Rain was dripping from the ends of his hair and trickling down the material of his jacket.

“That’s cheating.” She called him out, wiping a droplet of water from his cheek.

“No, that’s dignity.” He corrected her teasingly, taking a breath to steady himself, waiting for her next move.

Claire rolled her eyes and immediately after, her hands gripped his shoulders, pulling him down on top of her. He fell into her embrace before he could catch himself, keeping himself slightly above her with his arms. His lips found hers immediately, a soft sigh slipping out of her at the sensation.

Hesitantly, he allowed his hand to trail over the curves of her body, paying attention to them all. Sneaking beneath her back, he blindly found the zipper, breaking the kiss for long enough to lean away, his eyes carrying the question, laced with doubt. She nodded, kissing him again, a bit surer, a bit harder. Tugging on the zipper, he followed the line of her spine, letting his fingers dip beneath the material from time to time, her skin feeling feverish in comparison to his own, cold from the rain.

He skimmed over the hem of her dress, drawing out the moment. As he raised the material along with his hand, he willed his mind to remember this. To commit to his memory the scent of her perfume. The little sounds she was making in the back of her throat when their skin touched. The way her lips fit against his so perfectly.

She raised her arms above her head, helping him undress her, shaking her head shortly to move hair away from her face. He brushed the remaining locks away, looking at her as though she was the eighth wonder of the world.

“You’re beautiful.” His words were nothing more than a mutter against her lips before they came together in a fleeting kiss. Ethan sat up, taking in the way her pale skin contrasted the black lingerie in the dim light. His fingers ran down her legs with featherlight touches, stopping at the straps of her heels. Taking his time, he undid the clasps on both shoes, looking up at her from time to time, the atmosphere getting more and more electrified with each passing glance they shared. He pressed a soft kiss to her ankle before letting her feet rest on either side of him.

Claire sat up, wrapping her hand around his tie, and using it to pull him closer. The damp material of his jacket contrasted with her naked skin, causing a shiver to run through her. She undid the tie with controlled moves, using it to keep him near her, their lips almost touching, but not quite. He took the jacket off, letting it fall to the space beneath the seat, next to her dress and shoes. When she reached for the buttons of his shirt, he caught her hand, smoothing the skin over her knuckles with the pad of his thumb.

“Let me.” he mused, hastily getting rid of his shirt, shoes and socks following closely behind. She ran the tip of her index finger along the hem of his pants, watching how the muscles there contracted. He shook his head, a shuddered breath leaving his mouth when he finally got rid of the pants too.

They touched each other tentatively, reacquainting themselves with each other’s bodies. Ethan’s lips left hers, dragging a slow, hot line down the slope of her neck, paying close attention to every inch of her skin he could reach. He bit her right above her collarbone, a low moan of hers filling his ears not even a second later.

Listening to her, he allowed his tongue to dip beneath the fabric of her bra, with just enough force to tease but not enough to satisfy. Claire’s fingers flew to his head, tangling gently in his hair as he explored her body. His stubble tickled her stomach when his lips followed the line of her muscles, at last reaching the line of her panties. He kissed and bit his way from one hipbone to the other, spurred on by her breathless pants that kept on coming in waves. She moaned when his lips touched her directly through the lacy fabric.

“I’m just getting started…”

With a smirk she’s seen before, he slid her panties down her legs, slowly, without a single care in the world. Any protest she had, had died down when he reached the apex of her thighs, swiping his tongue against her folds slowly. Her head dipped back at the sensation, the grip she had on his hair tightening before she let it lose, instead threading her fingers through the strands.

His mouth closed over her clit, focusing all of his attention on that spot, guided by her moans. She looked down at him, finding his eyes almost closed, but still focused on hers. She was getting so close to the release that she could taste it, her legs beginning to shake with each move he made and it was at that moment when he leaned away, climbing back up and kissing her fiercely, with wild abandonment. She made a sound of protest, pressing her finger to halt him for a second.

“Don’t stop now.”

“We’ve got all night.” He grinned, kissing her finger and then her lips, again and again, short and sweet kisses passing through to her how happy he was in that moment. “No need to rush…”

She hummed, sitting up and placing her hands on his shoulders, pretending to lean in for a kiss. When he took the bait, she pushed him backwards, straddling his hips and pinning his wrists on either side of his head. Her hair fell around them like a curtain, blocking out their surroundings, leaving only her face in his field of view. She pressed her hips down, their bodies rubbing against one another, his helpless moan getting lost on his lips when she took his mouth in a searing kiss.

“No need to rush, huh? After you’ve made me wait for so long?” Claire asked, both of them breathing the same air. “I want to savor it. I’ll tire you out.” She whispered right into his ear, leaning back to capture surprise on his face that morphed into want when she grinned mischievously, grinding against him. She let out a soft sigh, feeling him growing harder from her ministrations. “I’m going to make you beg for it.”

“Don’t be so certain.”

“Sounds to me like a challenge. And we both know I’m not one to back down from a challenge.”

Adjusting her grip on his hands, she peppered light kisses against his mouth, pulling back when he began to kiss her back, and going back in. She treated his neck like a map, discovering spots that made him breathe heavier. Her teeth sank into his earlobe, pulling on it playfully. His hum of approval made his throat vibrate, tickling her gently.

Claire sat up again, keeping him in place with her legs, letting go of his hands so she could scrape her nails down his chest as she aimed for his underwear. Without a preamble, she hooked her fingers beneath the material and pulled it down, freeing him effectively.

She kept her eyes trained on his face firmly as she lowered her mouth. Her hot breath fanned against him, her hair brushing the sensitive skin of the inside of his thighs. She kissed him gently, running her tongue against his length, then took the tip into her mouth and sucked. Ethan moaned lowly, wanting to close his eyes but finding himself unable to look away from the sight of her working him.

She moved slowly, controlling her pace, alternating between her teeth and her tongue, his hips moving up and down, matching her rhythm. His hand gripped the edge of the seat, leather creasing under the force of his hold, while his other hand made its way to the back of her head, stroking her hair. She’d almost let him go, sucking gently, then take him back in, cries falling from his lips over and over again, following no particular pattern. Just like he’s done to her, she brought him to the brink, one more move of hers and he’d be falling recklessly, which is when she released him with a quiet sound. She let him have a moment to breathe, then went back in with barely-there touches, pulling him in and then pushing him away.

“You win! You win! I’m begging.” He laughed quietly, surrendering to her, gripping her hips when she straightened herself. Looking up at her, he couldn’t believe how long he managed to resist it. To resist her.

“Now?” Claire asked, smiling cheekily at him, squeezing his thighs together with her own as she waited for his answer.

“Now.” he nodded, helping her settle herself over him. Their eyes found one another, stares locked tightly as she guided him inside and lowered herself slowly, taking him inch by inch. A shuddered breath slipped past her lips, eyes falling shut. His arms closed around her, keeping them together while he adjusted, resting against the door, ignoring the way the arm rest was digging into the skin of his back. The new position allowed them to be even closer, enabling them more freedom of movement in such a small space.

Her back arched against him, their hips meeting at a frenzied pace, guided by his hands pulling her closer and her thighs raising and dropping her onto him over and over again. The way their position worked allowed him free access to her neck and chest, alternating between soft kisses and teasing nips across her skin.

“Come here…” Claire moaned, pulling his face up to meet hers, lips crashing in a hurried and intense kiss, taking their breaths and stealing their minds.

What started out as playful and light act of affection, quickly changed its tone. His hands strayed from her hips, running all over her body; with each new patch of skin he pulled her closer, more and more desperate to touch her, to feel her being alive. Alive and with him.

His hips shot up, meeting her halfway, changing the angle. The sounds they were making were getting louder and bolder, but Ethan couldn’t remember just why he would want to keep quiet. Claire didn’t do anything about it either, too far gone and lost in him to care about anything else than what they had in that moment.

Her name rang in the crammed space of a car when he groaned against her, his movements becoming less precise and more frantic. Both of them chased release, pushing each other further, higher, harder, neither aware of how much time has passed. The thing that pushed her over the edge was the way he looked at her. Complete certainty, utter happiness and endless bliss that made her feel as though she was about to fall apart and be put back together just by the movement of his body against hers. Crying out his name, she came around him, her spasming muscles tightening around him. With one thrust, he followed her, drowning out his desperate groan with a kiss on her lips.

Exhausted, although satisfied, they lied down to their best ability, cherishing the closeness that they could now allow themselves to experience. Ethan’s arms kept her as close to him as he could, his chest moving up and down rapidly, heart racing. Claire’s lips barely left his skin, kissing his cheek lazily and slowly, relishing the feeling of freedom that being so openly affectionate with him gave her. They basked in the afterglow of their closeness a while longer, neither saying anything, which left plenty of time for her mind to wander.

“You’re quiet. What are you thinking?” he ran his fingers through her hair, twisting the ends aimlessly. He could feel her smiling.

“I was wondering…” she craned her neck, looking up at him with a lively twinkle in her eyes. “Can we maybe do this inside next time? We wouldn’t want your old bones to get sore or worse, injured by closing ourselves in such small spaces.” Teasingly, she stroked his hip, tracing random patterns. His laughter rang in the car, sounding so carefree and rich, filling her to the brim with warmth.

“We can do whatever you want.” he promised, leaning down to make their lips brush together, eyes intense when he looked straight into hers. “Wherever you’d like.”

“That’s a potentially dangerous invitation.”

“I hoped you’d see it that way.” smirking, he made their lips meet properly, unhurriedly brushing his tongue against hers.

They decided against getting dressed just yet, opting for only their underwear. A sudden shiver shook her body, goosebumps spreading over her arms. Ethan noticed, picking up his jacket and helping her put it on, refusing to take no for an answer.

That’s how they spent the next hour or so, sitting in the back of his car, their legs tangled and hands clasped together tightly, talking quietly. He observed how her eyes glowed happily, his mind throwing a four-letter word at him. There was nothing left for him to hesitate about. He knew.

Her wild gesticulation got interrupted by him when he caught her hand, starting a line of hot kisses up her arm, biting her shoulder lightly before he claimed her lips. He leaned onto her, following her body as she lied down, her hands gripping the sides of his face, refusing to let him get too far away.

“Didn’t you say we’d be inside for the next time?” Claire’s laughter shook her entire body, making them rub against each other, pulling shaky gasps from them both. He touched his forehead to hers.

“Time after this one, then? Or the one after that too, just to be sure.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” She grinned, wrapping her leg around him and hauling him onto her with a light laugh.

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