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babyboibucky · 3 years ago

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The Match - Part 18

Pairing: CEO!Bucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: The day of the event is finally here.

Word Count: 6.5k LMFAO STRAP THE FUCK IN BESTIES

Warnings: Uhhhhhhhhhhh hmmm idk stress? Minor panic attack? The answers to majority of y’alls questions?

A/N: Thank @lokithealligator for threatening forcing me to post this earlier LMFAO It’s finally time for the event, y’all!!! The only reason why this part is so fucking long is because I didn’t want to split it into two parts and leave y’alls asses hanging from another cliffhanger (also I be inserting gifs/photos for references and MAKE SURE TO LISTEN TO THE SONG THAT I WILL BE LINKING IN A CERTAIN PART I BEG YOU) Anyway, I hope everyone will enjoy the event!!!

The Match Masterlist || MAIN MASTERLIST

Time check: 9:29am

Sanity check: About to lose it

The entire process of planning out the event went really smooth despite a few delays here and there. You didn’t encounter some major problems either so you were confident that the day itself would be just as smooth-sailing.

Much to your dismay, everything went wrong as soon as the day began.

You woke up feeling giddy and then the event stylist called and said that she had issues with her manpower. Not all of her people were free to bring in some of the fixtures needed for the venue so there was going to be a lot of going back and forth in delivering the items.

That wasn’t all too bad, the event doesn’t start until seven in the evening so you had plenty of time to figure shit out. But then the warehouse called and informed you that the latest car model— the very sole reason for this event— was damaged when it was being loaded into the truck and needed to be repaired.

You’ve been at the venue since eight in the morning, running errands and checking everything to ensure that the event was going to be a success. If more problems continue to pop out in the next few hours, you are going to be attending the event bald from how many times you were about to rip your hair out.

You were going through your event list when Martha approached you with an apologetic expression on her face, “Please tell me that nothing else went wrong.” you quickly told her.

She made a face, “The caterer called and said that they were encountering some issues in their kitchen.”

You were about to curse out loud when Martha was quick to calm you down, “But they’re figuring things out and they promised that the food will be here right in time for the event.”

You deadpanned, “If our guests starve tonight, I’m going to kill myself. Tell them that.” you said before quickly approaching the event stylist who was trying to get your attention.

“What do you got for me?” you asked.

“The signages are here…” she trailed.

You nodded, “And…?”

“The problem is that my men had to leave to get the other fixtures and we have no one to put them up.” she awkwardly grinned.

You closed your eyes and took in a sharp inhale, “I don’t understand how that’s my problem because as far as I can remember, you promised that everything will go perfectly well for today. Don’t you have other people you can ask to come over and help?” you asked, annoyed.

“I’m sorry, I’m really trying.” She apologized.

“Well, try harder because I’m about to go insane.” you snapped and walked away from her, needing a breather from everything that was going down.

You headed to the restroom and paced back and forth, balling your hands into fists as you tried to fight the panic attack that was threatening to hit you. Taking in a deep breath, you tried to hold it in before exhaling through your mouth. Your entire body was tense and you were finding it hard to breathe.

“Goddammit.” you huffed out, fanning yourself before washing your face with water.

Everything seemed to be so fucked up and it was messing with your mind. This event is a game-changer, both for you and the company. For Bucky, this was something personal given that his dad has been doubting him about his decision to let you lead the project. At some point, this was pretty personal for you too.

What if the event failed? The press was going to be there and it would bring so much embarrassment for Bucky. It’d embarrass you too, of course. The failure of the event could add fuel to the fire, especially with the issue surrounding Stark Enterprises being cut off as a major shareholder.

If the event failed, you’d end up disappointing Bucky, his dad, the entire team, Sam and most of all, yourself. All this hardwork but for what?

“Snap out of it, bitch what the fuck?” you whispered to yourself, knowing that you were already spiraling.

A series of knocks interrupted you, thankfully because you could feel the waterworks coming, “It’s open.” you called out as you straightened up yourself.

Much to your surprise, it was Bucky who was knocking. He was dressed casually, leather jacket on top of a black shirt and some black pants. If you weren’t so anxious right now, you would have realized that this was the first time you saw him in such an outfit and that he looked damn good in it.

“You’re not supposed to be here until the event.” you said.

He shrugged, “Thought I’d drop by and check on you.”

“Check on me or the event?” you asked back.

Bucky sighed, his expression remained blank. You weren’t sure whether he was mad or plain regretful that he let you spearhead the event.

“You. Needed to make sure you were fine. But as soon as I arrived, the event stylist immediately apologized and from there I kinda figured out what was going on.”

You opened your mouth to say something but quickly stopped when your chest tightened. There were a mixture of emotions swirling through you at that moment. Shame? Disappointment? You also felt apologetic because you’ve been so confident about leading this project but now here you were, halfway through a breakdown.

Was this your karma for fucking your boss?

“Hey, everything’s going to be fine.” Bucky said in a gentle voice upon seeing the look on your face.

He could still read through you obviously, he instantly knew what was going on inside your head just by seeing how stiff your body was. Perhaps if this happened long ago, you would have shut him down and walked out. But right now, when everything seemed to be in a complete mess, all you needed was a little bit of comfort.

Especially from Bucky.

“I just don’t want your dad to think that you made a mistake of trusting me with such a huge project.” you said, swallowing hard.

You hated how your voice wavered, how vulnerable you felt but also comforted that Bucky came by to check in on you.

Because you were truly losing it and no one was there to help you with it.

Bucky was careful to approach you, as if he didn’t want to break some boundaries. However, when you remained still, he took it as a sign and held your shoulders as he tried to catch your gaze.

“It’s not a mistake. We’ll figure things out, okay?” he reassured, rubbing your shoulders up and down to soothe you.

“But there are literally too many problems and we’ve only got like seven or eight hours left to fix them!” you panicked.

Bucky chuckled, cupping your cheek with his hand, “Listen to yourself, we’ve got eight hours left. I’m no genius in math but that sounds like a lot of hours.” he joked, making you laugh lightly.

“Look, whatever the outcome of this event is, I’d be happy about it. I’d still be proud of you and I would never regret entrusting this project to you.” he said, looking deeply into your eyes.

Your breath hitched in your throat but you tried to play it cool and nodded. The anxiety was still there but not as strong as it used to be. You could tell that you were slowly regaining control of yourself. You nodded in response and offered a small smile.

“Thanks, Bucky.”

Bucky smiled and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “So, how can I help?”

Moments ago, you were close to losing your marbles from all the things that were going wrong. You were still close to losing it now, but only because of Bucky and the way he actually dropped everything to help put up the signages on the stage.

As soon as the both of you went back into the main hall, you told him about the situation with the displays and as if he wasn’t the CEO, he merely shrugged off his leather jacket and did most of the lifting. His tight black shirt did nothing to help because it only enhanced his build. You could feel your mouth dry up at the sight of his biceps expanding every time he carried something heavy, exposing the veins running down his forearm.

“Oh my god…” you heard the event stylist mumble to herself as she, too, gawked at Bucky.

Unable to help yourself, you cleared your throat and lifted a brow at her. “You do know that’s our CEO, right? Doing all the grunt work because you failed to properly coordinate with your team?” you threatened.

She was quick to close her mouth, mumbling yet another apology before walking away to fulfill her other tasks.

Bucky grunted as he lifted the signage higher, securing it properly before dusting off his hands as he approached you.

“That look okay?” he asked, looking up at the signages— the logos of his and Sam’s companies.

Your eyes were still trained on his arm, still swollen from the amount of lifting he had been doing. Thankfully, you snapped yourself out of your unexpected thirst before he could even notice. You cleared your throat and nodded, “Yeah, it looks good.” you commented, side-eyeing his bicep.

“You didn’t have to do that though. Kind of feels weird to have my boss help out with the event preparations.” you admitted with a chuckle.

Bucky shrugged, “I’ve always been hands on when it comes to running the company, you know that.” he said.

“Do you want to grab lunch? You need a break too.” he asked, checking his watch for the time.

You made a face, “I would love to but I still have to check on a lot of things.”

Bucky nodded, “Okay, just make sure to eat.” he reminded you before taking his jacket from one of the tables, putting it back on.

“I have to go but uhhh, I guess I’ll see you tonight.” he said as he pursed his lips together.

You nodded again, “I’ll talk to you tonight.”

“Hello...hi...good evening...welcome...to...ugh...it’s nice to meet you…” you groaned in front of the mirror as you nervously practiced your greetings for the event.

This was going to be the biggest event you’d ever organized and there were plenty of big names in the guest list. If it would truly end up as a disaster, you were going to set yourself on fire right then and there.

You fixed your hair in the mirror and checked your make-up, you looked decent. Not like the bags beneath your eyes were still visible despite the amount of concealer you packed onto your skin. This event was stressing the hell out of you for so many reasons and although you wanted to get it over with, part of you didn’t want the night to end just yet.

The end of the event only meant the beginning of some other things you needed to deal with.

Time check: 5:32pm

It was time to head to the venue and face what the future has in store for you. Taking one last look at yourself in the mirror, you took a deep breath in and headed out.

“What do you mean there’s no dessert?!” you practically screamed into your phone as your car screeched to a stop at the red light.

When you left the venue earlier that day, everything fell into place. Finally. After all the delays and shortcomings on the end of some suppliers, things worked out. But now, listening to Martha update you that the caterer’s oven broke down in the middle of baking, you were convinced that this was definitely your karma for fucking your boss.

“Martha, our guests will start arriving at seven! Did the caterer suggest something else?” you asked, your grip on your steering wheel tightening.

When Martha said that there was nothing else the caterer could do, you groaned out loud and thanked her for the update, saying that you’ll figure things out.

You started hitting your forehead on your steering wheel, cursing and thinking at the same time. Just when you thought that everything was finally coming together perfectly, shit like this had to happen.

And then you remembered something, or someone, rather.

Lifting your head up, you quickly searched for a name in your contacts and pressed call.

“Steve, I need your help.”

You reached the small bakery at around 6pm, which meant you had less than an hour left to head back to the venue. You needed to be there before the guests started arriving, or at least, before George Barnes arrived or else you and Bucky wouldn’t hear the end of it.

Hopping out of your car in full glam, you ignored the curious looks of the people when you ran inside the bakery, immediately spotting Steve by the counter, stacking boxes and boxes of pastries on top of each other.

“Oh thank god, Steve!” you panted, not noticing how Steve’s jaw dropped to the ground seeing you all dressed like that.

He blinked as he eyed you from head to toe, shaking his head in amusement and awe, “You look amazing.”

You chuckled, “Thank you but I gotta rush to the venue. How much is everything?” you asked.

Steve waved a hand, “I already paid for them.”

Your eyes almost popped out of their sockets, knowing that you practically wiped the bakery clean of their entire pastry stock and for Steve to be able to pay for them just like that? “I’ll pay you back, I just need to have our accounting department process it.”

“Don’t worry about it. I know you’re in a hurry, so let me help you load these up in your car so you can get going.” Steve said and began to bring the boxes to your car.

“Thank you so much!” you told him before turning to the owner of the shop, “And ma’am, thank you!” you told her.

She smiled kindly at you, “Sweetie, thank you for wiping our inventory clean.”

It didn’t take long for all the boxes to fill up both your backseat and trunk. You quickly slipped inside your car and brought the window down to thank Steve for the last minute favor. You knew that he was close with the owner of the bakery, so you thought that maybe he can help you with your dessert problem.

“I owe you, Steve. I’ll make it up to you.” you said and started the car, only for it to make a whirring sound before staying still.

Can this day get any worse?!

You tried to start the engine again but the same thing happened. Bowing your head, you gathered all your courage before looking up at Steve who was already staring at you expectantly.

“I think I’m gonna need to ask you another favor.”

“Calm down, you’re making me nervous with how restless you are. And I don’t even know what the hell is going on.” Steve said, sparing you a glance as he drove.

You sighed, “Sorry, it’s just that this event is a really big deal for me.” you said.

Steve laughed, “I can see that.” he said.

“I already asked you two favors, I might as well go for a third one. Can you go any faster?” you asked apologetically, seeing that you only had around thirty minutes left.

Steve gave you a confident smirk, “You asked for it.” he said before revving up the engine of his car and then stepping on the gas.

You’ve been in and out of calls during the entire ride, ensuring that everything was going smoothly and without any more problems. You called Mark and told him that you were nearby and needed help bringing in the pastry boxes.

As soon as you could see the venue coming into your view, you quickly fixed your hair and reapplied your lipstick.

“I swear to god if George is already there…” you murmured to yourself.

Steve snickered, “And who is this George you’re whispering about? Your asshole boss?” he asked.

You rolled your eyes, “Well, he used to own the company but now his son is the CEO.” you responded with nonchalance.

Steve frowned a bit, “George...you said you work in the automotive industry, right?” he asked.

You merely hummed in response, your attention focused on your phone as you messaged everyone on your team and informed them that you were nearby.

“Are you talking about George Barnes? Do you work for Barnes Group of Companies?” Steve asked again.

You nodded, still inattentive, “Yeah, it’s a long story why I need to be there before George arrives.”

“Your boss is James Barnes? Bucky Barnes?” Steve asked again, slowing down the car by the entrance of the venue.

“You know him?” you asked Steve with a confused look on your face, until you came to a realization at the same time he was about to answer your question.

“Bucky is—”

“Well, who doesn’t know him and his family? Why am I even surprised you know him.” you said with a chuckle, rushing to open the door when the car halted at the venue.

“Thank you so much, Steve! I swear, I’ll make it up to you. And please, don’t bother helping out with the boxes. We’ll do it from here, I don’t want to bother you any longer.” you said and stepped out, waving over at Mark and the catering staff to get the pastries.

“I see you found yourself a new man.” Mark teased as the both of you headed inside the venue. “And you look great, by the way. Good luck to Bucky in keeping his hands off of you.” he said.

You glared at him playfully, shaking your head. “He’s just a friend who happened to save the day.” you explained, “And you don’t look so bad yourself too.” you complimented, dusting off his suit before smirking, “Good luck to Janet in keeping his hands off of you.” you returned his joke before excusing yourself to check on how things are going.

Doing one last round of checking gave you somewhat the relief you have been wanting to experience since the day began. Finally, everything seemed to be perfect— the desserts were already laid out on the buffet table, the lights and sound system were working, tables were properly set— thank fuck for that.

Everyone from the company started arriving first and it was almost at exactly seven when you saw Bucky arrive, clad in a blue suit and black dress shirt inside. He had forgone the tie this time, leaving the top two buttons of his shirt open.

His eyes immediately met yours as soon as he entered the venue and the way he took in your appearance made you squeeze your thighs together. His blue eyes darkened at the sight of you wearing the dress he had given and you almost felt like you were standing there naked.

You sort of figured out why he probably went with this dress. It wasn’t that revealing but it showed the right amount of skin that could make one’s imagination go wild, at least his own imagination.

You pretended to be busy, chatting up the staff of the venue and giving them reminders how to treat the guests, but not without stealing quick glances at Bucky. He was surveying the surroundings carefully as he approached you, as if not wanting to be obvious that he wanted to talk to you as soon as he got there.

“Hi.” he greeted shyly.

You smiled at him, “Hi.”

“You look beautiful.” Bucky complimented, looking at you from head to toe.

The way his eyes scanned your exposed leg (thanks to the thigh-high slit that your dress had) made your throat dry and when he looked at you like that? You would’ve clutched your pearls if you wore one.

Any woman would swoon when gazed at like that.

“It’s the dress you bought.” you said, dodging the compliment. “You look handsome, Mister Barnes.” you teased, trying to ease the atmosphere.

Your smile faltered as soon as your line of sight went past Bucky towards his father who had just arrived. Bucky noticed the change in your demeanor and turned around, his shoulders dropping when his father approached him.

“Thought you wouldn’t show up.” Bucky said, placing his hands inside the pockets of his pants.

George snickered, “And miss this event for the world? I don’t think so.” he said before turning to you, “Besides, I’m intrigued how this night would turn out. Someone did promise a successful event.” he said, keeping his eyes on you.

You fought the urge to roll your eyes at the audacity of this man. Well, you were still nervous but of course, you weren’t going to show that. You lifted your chin up and put on the best smile you could, “I’m glad you were able to make it, should I usher you to your table?” you asked.

George shook his head, frowning at your confidence yet again. “I can manage, thank you.” he said before turning to Bucky.

“We’re not done talking about Stark yet.” he said in a warning tone.

Bucky snickered, “We are done talking about that. Make sure you stay until the end of the program, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” he said, using his father’s words meaningfully.

George gave you one last look before leaving. The guests began to slowly arrive and of course, Bucky needed to be the one to welcome and entertain them.

He turned to you with a hopeful smile, “Talk to you later?” he asked.

You nodded, “Talk to you later.”

The event seemed to be a success, with all the guests praising the set-up and the food. You had been going around and greeting everyone, ushering them to their seats and informing them of the program.

Bucky and Sam were both busy mingling with a lot of other well, rich people— from fellow CEOs to politicians and maybe even potential shareholders.

Your chest swelled with pride seeing this project come to life despite all the stress you encountered throughout the day. As you were conversing with one of the press, your eyes caught Bucky’s while he, too, was in the middle of a conversation. He threw a flirty smile your way before he gave you that look, yet again.

The proud look, one where he’d tilt his head while lifting an eyebrow at you and of course, the classic smirk that always made you clench your thighs together.

Man, and it’s only eight in the evening.

When everyone was almost done with dinner, the program finally began with the host welcoming everyone to the event. She talked a bit about both Bucky and Sam’s companies and why the partnership was one for the books.

A video introducing the latest model was played and as soon as it was over, the host called Bucky up on stage to officially launch the product.

In the years you have worked in his company, you had never witnessed him in such a situation. Prior to matching with him on Tinder, you’d only seen him in meetings and small launches. Nothing to this scale but now, watching Bucky talk so eloquently and confidently about the new product, you’d realized how different he was when in his element.

This was James Barnes, the CEO of Barnes Group of Companies.

How he was able to command the entire room to pay their full attention to him as he talked about the new technologies and the partnership with Wilson Enterprises, you couldn’t believe that this was the same immature man you had been dealing with.

You almost felt intimidated by him as he talked on stage.

You snapped out of your thoughts when the entire venue burst in a round of applause, with some of them even standing from their seats. You’d seen how George looked both impressed and embarrassed, probably by how he doubted his very own son.

Bucky looked proud as he waited for the applause to die down and when the room was quiet again, he took it as a chance to conclude his speech.

“Before anything else, I would like to thank everyone for coming here today. To my team who worked tirelessly to make this new product possible, to all our shareholders for sticking to our side, I am very grateful. I am most especially grateful to the person who is responsible for making this event possible.” He said, his eyes quickly finding you in the sea of people.

Your heartbeat accelerated when he acknowledged you publicly, your hand automatically went up to your chest to rub at it, trying to calm down your racing heart.

You thought it would end there, but then Bucky mentioned your name and motioned towards you. In an instant, all eyes were on you.

“She’s the one behind all this and without her, there wouldn’t even be an event right now. So, if anyone planned on congratulating me for the success of this launch, congratulate her instead.” He said.

You awkwardly looked around and returned the smiles that everyone gave you.

“Congratulations, honey.” A familiar voice called out.

A delicate hand wrapped around your arm and upon turning to your side, you saw that it was Mackenzie. She looked stunning as always, dressed in a long sleeved white, body-fitting dress with a plunging neckline.

“I’m so happy you came, Kenzie!” You greeted, giving her a hug.

“Of course, we’ve got history.” She teased before looking around, “And this is amazing. I knew you could pull this off better than I ever could.” She praised with an impressed look.

“Thank you.” you laughed, “How have you been?” You asked.

“Oh you know, same old same old. And you? How are you and Bucky? Seems like things are better now than when I left.” She said, voice insinuating at something.

You chuckled, “Better, I would say. But we’ve got a lot to talk about still.” You admitted.

“Well, I hope everything goes well. And if you need anything, and I mean anything, you have my number.” She said, taking your hand. “I’m gonna go grab myself some more of those Strawberry Tarts, they’re really good.”

You laughed and bid goodbye before focusing back on Bucky who seemed to be about to wrap up on his speech.

“And since everyone is already here, I would like to announce that Wilson Enterprises is now our largest shareholder. Please welcome my partner and good friend, Sam Wilson.”

There was a collective gasp followed by applause when Bucky made the announcement. Even you couldn’t hold back on the surprised expression.

Seemed like the night was going to be full of surprises.

The program has ended and everyone was left to mingle. The press immediately jumped at the opportunity to interview both Bucky and Sam as soon as they got offstage.

“Congratulations on the event, you did a great job.” Someone you recognized as a chief editor for a magazine told you as you walked around the venue.

You received a couple more acknowledgements, even from politicians and needless to say, you were proud of yourself for being able to pull this off.

“So, I guess you need to treat Bev and I to lunch.” Mark said as he and Beverly approached you.

“Bestie, congrats! This event is amazing! And the aesthetic? Ugh, I’ve already taken so many photos all over the place!” She squealed with delight.

Mark groaned, “Yeah, well you could at least credit me when you upload those photos.” He complained.

“We’ll definitely go out for dinner and drinks. It’s on me.” You said with a smile.

Beverly’s grin faltered when she remembered your resignation but you made sure to shut it down as soon as you noticed her look.

“Let’s just have fun tonight, okay?” You reminded her.

“Excuse me, may I steal the star of the night for a while?”

You looked back and saw that it was Sam. He looked really dashing in his three-piece black suit paired with that billion-watt smile of his.

Mark and Bev excused themselves and left you with Sam, “Dibs on your first dance for tonight?” He asked, offering his arm.

You heartily laughed and hooked your arm in his, following him out into the dancefloor where majority of the guests were already swaying to the music.

“Mister Shareholder, huh?” You asked. “Since when?”

“It’s been on my mind for quite a while now, and then Bucky told me about the situation with Stark Enterprises. I figured it was a sign for me to push through with this decision.” He explained as the both of you started to slow dance.

“Have you decided on my offer?” Sam was quick to jump right into it.

You hummed, “I thought about it really hard. It’s the biggest offer I’d ever received, in my entire life.” You admitted.

When you read the agreement that Sam gave you that one night, you were so tempted to take the offer. It was for a Chief Operating Officer role anyway. COO. The second in the chain of command of a company. It was like ten steps ahead of your current position.

Who would turn that down?

“And I can’t accept it, Sam. I’m sorry.” You apologized, shaking your head.

“I don’t think I’m ready for that responsibility and as much as I am flattered that you even considered me for that position, I have a lot more things I need to learn.” You explained.

Sam smiled, “I figured you would turn it down.” He said, much to your surprise. “I was hoping you wouldn’t because I see potential in you. You can take on that role, but I also respect your decision. But I want you to know that you are capable of it. Never doubt your skills. I’ve seen it first hand.” He said.

You tightened your grip on Sam’s shoulder as you danced, giving him a big smile before leaning in for a friendly hug.

“Thank you, Sam. This means the world to me.” You said and pulled back.

Sam sighed, “I am kinda bummed out, but I understand. If you ever changed your mind, let me know.” He said.

“You’d be the first to know, trust me.” You laughed.

“Mind if I cut in?”

You turned at the sound of Bucky’s voice. As if on cue, the music changed into a slower, more sensual one and the lights dimmed into a warm, orange glow. The people on the dance floor slowly began to disperse, leaving some couples to sway to the romantic music.

Sam turned to you and winked before patting Bucky’s arm, “She’s all yours, Barnes.” He said before leaving you with Bucky.

Bucky seemed to hesitate to place his hands on your waist so you made the first move and rested your hands on his shoulders. There was enough distance between both your bodies and yet this was the closest you've been with him after quite a while. You evened out your breathing when you felt Bucky's hands finally land on your waist, his fingers oh so slightly pressing down against the fabric of your dress.

“I told you this will be a success. Congratulations.” he said.

You shook your head, “Everyone helped out; congratulations to us. And to the new shareholder. Is that why you asked your father to stay until the end of the program? What did he say?” you curiously asked.

“He left after the announcement. He’s never been too keen on Wilson Enterprises.” Bucky chuckled, licking his lips.

You nodded in understanding, clearing your throat as the both of you slowly danced to the music. There was an awkward pause for a brief moment, as if neither wasn’t sure whether now was the time for the talk.

“I’m surprised you skipped on the tie tonight.” you commented, knowing that Bucky always wore one during big events.

Bucky smiled, removing one hand from your waist as he reached for something in his back pocket. He dangled a bowtie right in front of your face as he laughed, “I forgot to put it on. I was running late.”

You threw your head back as you chuckled, taking the bowtie before squinting at Bucky, “And why were you running late Mister CEO?” you asked.

“I was nervous.” Bucky admitted.

“Nervous, huh? Were you second-guessing the success of this event?” you raised an eyebrow at him.

Bucky merely forced out a chuckle before shaking his head, “I was nervous about talking to you.” he said, catching your gaze.

The silence that followed was uncomfortable, in the sense that there were things left unsaid. There was a little bit of tension but it was balanced out by the yearning that the both of you felt in that moment.

“The floor is all yours.” you said and as if it was second nature, you started buttoning up Bucky’s dress shirt before wrapping his bowtie around his neck, tying it and adjusting it.

Bucky audibly breathed out at your action, his shoulders tensing up a bit until you soothed them down with your hands. He kept on licking his lips as he tried to find his words and this time, you allowed him to take his time without any interruptions.

“I’m sorry.” he started, “I’ll never stop apologizing for what I did to you because you didn’t deserve that. I was selfish, I didn’t know how to deal with being said no to. I...I grew up not knowing my place in the lives of the people I considered special. My mom left to be with another man because my dad is shitty. My existence wasn’t enough to stop her from leaving and my dad kept on blaming me, saying that maybe I was too much to handle. I was a spoiled kid and I grew up, still spoiled.” Bucky explained.

Your heart ached for Bucky upon hearing his childhood, not that it was a valid excuse for his behavior, but it was somehow enlightening.

“My mom’s new husband has a son too, around my age. He’s way better than I am, at least that’s what I felt growing up being compared to him most of the time. Even my dad thinks he’s better than I am.” Bucky scoffed.

“The first girl I loved also left, she said that I wasn’t doing enough to make her stay. I wanted her to stay, but I was afraid if I showed her how much I loved her, she’d think I’m too much and leave. She still left anyway.” he breathed out and you could feel his grip tighten around your waist.

“My point is...when I care about someone, I don’t know how to show it. I’m going to be honest, when you rejected me, the way I reacted was because of my ego. But the more you started to distance yourself, the more afraid I got because I didn’t want to lose you. And my ego was replaced by fear and I didn’t want to lose you the same way I lost my mom, my first love...I fought for you but all in the wrong ways.” he said.

“I didn’t want you to think that letting you go was that easy for me. And then Sam appreciated you, treated you the way I should have and my insecurities got the best of me. Being compared to someone better than me messed me up and seeing you with Sam...it just...it struck a nerve and I lost control and said things I shouldn’t have. You didn’t deserve that and I am truly sorry for hurting you.” Bucky’s voice was strained, as if he was giving it his all not to break.

And for the first time since the entire ordeal happened, you finally understood him. You didn’t regret your outburst, Bucky needed that wake up call to fix his attitude. But now, you were slowly figuring him out.

He wasn’t perfect but he was trying. You could see that now.

“I’m so sorry about your past.” you mumbled, bowing down.

Bucky called out your name gently, “You shouldn’t be. This was all me and thanks to you, I realized how much of an ass I was.” he laughed.

“I’m not going to force you to forgive me...I just wanted you to know that you’re so much more than what you think. And you deserve so much better than me or this company. You’re in good hands with Sam.” Bucky sadly said, avoiding your eyes as he looked around his surroundings.

“I turned down his offer.” you said.

Bucky’s head snapped back at you, eyes wide and somewhat hopeful. Before he could even assume, you quickly clarified things.

“But I’m not staying either.” you said. “I think it’s also time for me to try out other things, you know?”

Bucky nodded, his eyes sad. However, he managed to give you a genuine smile. “I understand.”

“Thanks, Bucky.” you said. “Thank you for trusting me and for respecting my decision.”

Thinking that everything was finally addressed, you sort of got disappointed that Bucky didn’t say anything else. Not that you were expecting him to say something. Definitely not expecting.

You stopped swaying to the music and tried to step back but then Bucky didn’t let you go. His hands stayed on your waist and his eyes on yours. His mouth was open agape, as if he wanted to say something but just couldn’t bring himself to do so.

“You okay?” you worriedly asked.

Bucky nodded, “I just…”

“You just…what?” you urged.

“I wanted you to know that…” Bucky trailed, his eyes dilating as he gazed at you with an expression you couldn’t quite put a finger on.

“When I said that I didn’t know how to show it when I cared about someone,” Bucky started and for some reason, your heart began to pound heavily against your ribcage.

You didn’t know why your palms started to sweat and why you felt restless all of a sudden as you waited for Bucky to speak up. He too seemed to be going through the same thing because you could feel his fingers dig into the fabric of your dress the same way your hands were tightening their grip on his shoulders.

“Bucky, what are you trying to say?” you insisted.

Bucky looked up at you, his eyes scanning your features from your nose down to your lips before going back to your eyes. And in that moment, you already knew what he was going to say before he even said it out loud.

“I’m in love with you and it drives me crazy.”

#bbb writes #the match #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky x reader #fem!reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky smut #sebastian stan

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babyjamiebarnes · 4 years ago

Text

Build-A-Bear

Part Ten

Featuring: Bucky x Stark!reader, dad!Tony, Peter Parker, Steve, Sam

Warnings: mentions of smut (bondage, anal play, breeding kink, slight voyeurism), language, mentions of arson

Summary: Now that reader is stuck back at her apartment, she can finally feel safe again — until that safety is completely compromised. And more than her physical safety is put on the line.

Author’s Note: I’m so fucking stoked for this chapter!!! This is when it starts to get wild!! I hope you all like it! If you even read this, you should let me know who you think the person in question is (you’ll know what I mean when you read it lol). And as always, feel free to buy me a coffee if you want!

Tags: @amourmarvel @fangirlvoice @kennedywxlsh @devilswaldorf @what-the-hap-is-fuckning @alyispunk @fredweasleysbitchh @wearegroot @sunflowerbebe107 @prestigious-tea @brckenmemories @angelbabymed

Series Masterlist

Spending the next two weeks sequestered in your apartment wasn’t terrible, but it just cemented your assumption that you couldn’t even pretend to be normal anymore. At least when you were at the Tower, you felt like another face in the crowd compared to the Avengers.

Accommodating your work from home setup wasn’t easy, but you all made it work. Peter worked with you when he was back for a weekend. He even helped you go through more of your fan mail, if you could even call it that. There were some parcels that were genuine fan mail, people wishing you well and young girls saying you inspired them to pursue STEM careers; there were some death threats that you had to send to local law enforcement to investigate; there were mostly creepy letters from men you could only assume were older than your father. One man wrote that he wanted to find out if you smelled as beautiful as you looked. Cringe. Another wrote about how he wanted to suck on your toes until they were wrinkly. Gag. The worst was a man who said he wanted to be sandwiched between you and your dad. Barf.

Steve and Sam used the scanner your dad made to check all your mail before it was even brought upstairs. None had been poisoned or set to explode, but some contained explicit items that you were more than happy to not see.

It was still slightly traumatizing when Steve waltzed in with a package in his arms and said, “Hey [Y/N], I didn’t toss this one because it doesn’t look like it’s from a person. Did you order something from… Romantix?”

You paused mid-chew as you, Bucky, and Sam all sat in your living room enjoying a nice Saturday lunch. Bucky wasn’t fazed, continuing to eat his food; Sam, however, busted out laughing.

“What’s in it, Steve?” Sam asked loudly, clearly trying to rile you up.

“Uh, all the scanner showed was a couple small golf balls -- I think -- and what looked like a top? And a remote.”

Sam kept giggling to himself, Bucky and Steve both looked confused as hell. You moved to grab the box from Steve but Sam beat you to it, tutting at you as you reached for it again.

“Uh-uh. We should open it to make sure everything is safe,” Sam teased.

“Everything in there is safe, I promise,” you swore. When you tried to steal the package back, Sam yoinked it further from your grasp with a devious smile. Your cheeks were burning hot at the thought of the inevitable. Sam was going to open your box, Steve was going to turn red as a tomato, and Bucky was… well, hopefully he was going to take you to your room for the rest of the day.

And before you could try to snatch the box away again, Sam ripped the packing tape off and pulled out the first item: kegel balls.

“What are those?” Steve asked.

“Don’t worry about it!” you shouted, grabbing the vacuum-packed, heavy silver balls from a still giggling Sam. He reached back into the box and you realized you may just have to suck it up and let him have his show-and-tell.

“Here’s that ‘top’ you were talking about,” Sam joked. And in his hands sat… the butt plug.

“Sam, stop! Literally no one here needs to see this except me and Bucky,” you whined.

“In that case, I’m curious. What else is in there?” Bucky asked, leaning forward to peek inside.

“Bucky! You’re supposed to be on my side!”

Sam shrugged and handed the box to Bucky so he could rummage through it instead. You couldn’t really complain as much now that your boyfriend was doing the snooping instead.

“What the -- oh,” Bucky said as he lifted the next item: a remote… tied to a pair of thin black panties.

“Why would those come together?” Steve asked. You weren’t sure if he was serious or not because he may have been born in the early 1900s, but he would’ve had to have checked out modern porn and kinks by now, right?

“Do you want to tell him or should I?” Sam asked with raised eyebrows. His lips were quirked in an annoying smirk. Bucky sat with a similar expression; at least you knew he had brushed up on modern sex.

“They’re vibrating panties,” you deadpanned. Steve fortunately didn’t look too surprised, he just raised his eyebrows and nodded.

“What’s next, Buck?” Sam prompted him to continue unpacking.

“Oh -- oh -- oh yeah. We can have some fun with this,” Bucky laughed as he lifted up the collar and ball gag.

“Damn, [Y/N]. You’re a freaky freak,” Sam laughed. Bucky didn’t even deny this; he just laughed with his friend before continuing with the last items.

“And…” Bucky started to explain. He quickly cut himself off when he saw what was in his hands -- and covering the bottom of the package. Dozens of pieces of lingerie, from skimpy little lace pieces to a loose-fitting satin teddy to a sheer black robe. “Oh, that’s for my eyes only,” he finally said.

Sam and Steve grumbled in response but didn’t push it. They probably realized getting a full reveal of the shit you and Bucky wanted to mess around with was more than they would’ve gotten if you had your way.

And just as you hoped, Bucky took you to your bedroom for a few hours. You found out you didn’t love the plug and the ball gag made you drool, but the collar had a little leash Bucky was able to pull on while hitting it from the back... you liked that one.

From that day on, you made sure to tell the boys when you’d have a package coming in. Bucky definitely perked up at the mention of more mail like that coming his way.

•

Two weeks after the Romantix debacle, Peter was back in town and stoked to help you go through mail again. He didn’t like all the creepy letters, but he was really good at making you laugh at them instead of constantly cringing and gagging. Bucky and Steve even sat to help, but Sam said if he was going to keep cooking for everyone, he didn’t have to sort through mail. And none of you wanted to pass up on his classic New Orleans recipes.

You all sat around your dining room table with your small dining TV playing old episodes of “Criminal Minds” as background noise. The amount of mail you received definitely dropped with time, but you’d still have a hefty pile at the end of the week. The creepy letters were shredded but you liked responding to the nicer letters, so there was a “shred” pile and a “respond” pile on either side of the “open next” pile.

You were all working in near-silence aside from the quiet dialogue on the TV and the occasional clink of pans from Sam in the kitchen. With four of you working, you’d be able to read through everything in about half an hour. As you neared the bottom of the pile, you grabbed a large manilla envelope and felt the weight of whatever was inside. It couldn’t have been dangerous because the boys scanned everything, but you carefully tugged it open nonetheless. You held it upside down and gently shook out the contents: a letter, a smaller envelope, and a DVD. A few people sent mix CDs or fan videos on DVDs and flash drives, so you were initially excited about this one… until you started reading the letter. The choppy typewriter print quickly turned muddled as your blood froze in your veins.

My darling [Y/N],

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? No, I don’t think I shall. I’ll cut to the chase instead: I’m the reason the world knows who you are. Guess I’m a little loose-lipped. Oops! But I needed you to know I’m serious somehow. Or else you wouldn’t see this as a true threat.

I know your little secret. I’ve seen more than I originally planned, but you gave me plenty to work with in my free time. You look beautiful while you sleep; you look even more beautiful in the throes of passion. But I’m not looking to have your body.

Unless you get $2,000,000 to your little doorman Matthew to bring to me by the end of the week, the enclosed pictures will make their way to the desk of daddy dearest. And we both know he won’t appreciate seeing who is penetrating his daughter.

And if that $2,000,000 doesn’t find me by the end of next week, the video on the DVD will be released to the world.

I look forward to our next interaction.

Your hands shook as you tore open the envelope to see what pictures this person allegedly had of you. At first, they were just creepy candids of you walking down the street, nothing the paps wouldn’t have. Then they turned into photos of Bucky escorting you through crowds… and then photos of you in your apartment.

You were sleeping in your bed in one. Then standing in your kitchen making breakfast in one of Bucky’s shirts. And then a shirtless Bucky was cradling your face and kissing your forehead.

The next picture was of Bucky standing behind you in the kitchen. His pajama bottoms — the pair you got him for his birthday — were pooled at his feet. One hand was pressing you to the counter, the other was hoisting your leg up to the granite as he drove into you.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, unable to speak. As you frantically flipped through the rest of the photos, your eyes flooded with tears and your breathing grew more erratic, grabbing Bucky’s attention, then Peter’s, then Steve’s.

But their concern meant nothing to you as you processed the images before you.

You on your knees with Bucky’s dick clearly between your lips. Bucky on his knees with his face pressed between your thighs. Your legs wrapped around Bucky’s torso as he moved you on his cock. Bucky’s hand wrapped around your throat as you rode him on the couch.

All the images looked like they were taken through your windows, like someone was somehow standing outside your apartment despite being stories above the ground.

“What’s wrong, doll?” Bucky asked softly. He gently touched your arm, drawing your view from the distressing imagery to his attempted comfort, though it unfortunately did nothing to calm you down. Not this time.

You looked up at him with tear-filled eyes but couldn’t bring yourself to speak. All you could do was shake your head and push the letter to him. You watched his eyes quickly scan the words before reaching for the photos. He didn’t snatch them away from you or even try to take them. He just held his hand out and let you shakily hand them over.

And then you saw the pacific blue of his eyes turn dark and stormy, his jaw clenching as he flipped through the pictures of you — you and him. His breathing grew more and more ragged the more he saw, until he threw the photos to the table with a loud, “Fuck!”

Seconds later, Sam dashed into the room as Steve sifted through the photos. Even Steve grew irritated at the sight. Peter and Sam quickly followed suit, only glimpsing a few pictures before getting the gist of the rest.

The room was silent aside from your quiet sobs. You and Bucky both stared at the disc lying between you until your eyes met. His usually pale blue irises were nearly black.

“I’m scared,” you whimpered. Despite being scared himself — and angry and frustrated and confused — he reached out to pull you into his lap and hold you. Keeping you close always made him feel better, even when it felt like the world was crashing around him.

“Close the curtains,” he demanded gruffly. Steve and Peter immediately jumped up and started pulling all your curtains shut, throwing your usually bright apartment into near darkness.

Bucky held your face between his palms, forcing you to look in his eyes.

“I know you’re scared, but we need to see what’s on that DVD.”

“I can already guess what it is,” you said through your tears.

“Yeah, me too,” Bucky agreed. “But we have to make sure.”

You simply nodded. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead, helping your breathing slow at the reassuring gesture. He led you into the living room with the DVD in hand. Steve and Sam stood in the living room, Peter sat on the couch. They all looked concerned for you, but tried not to show pity. You could tell they were all upset about this too.

“You can leave the room if you don’t want to see what I’m sure we all know is on this,” Bucky said. His voice was deep and gravelly, almost like his morning voice, but… mean.

You and Bucky sat together on the sofa across from Peter, all eyes trained on the TV as the screen faded from black to a slightly fuzzy shot of your bed. Seconds later, you and Bucky came on screen. And there was audio.

You giggled as Bucky’s body pushed yours to the mattress. “What are you gonna do to me?” your voice sounded.

“I’m gonna put a baby in you,” Bucky’s voice growled. “I’m gonna cum inside this tight pussy until you can’t take it anymore.”

“Jesus,” Sam grumbled. You would’ve laughed if the situation wasn’t so serious.

Bucky only let it play until clothes started coming off. That’s when he knew they actually had a sex tape of you two, especially considering the nearly two-hour time frame on it. Sending explicit pictures of you and Bucky to your dad was one thing, but releasing a non-consensual sex tape of you two was something else entirely.

“What are we gonna do?” Peter asked quietly. Your tears had finally stopped, but the concern in his voice almost sent you over the edge again. He was such a sweet kid and he didn’t deserve to deal with the stress of this with you. But you also knew he was your best friend — practically a brother — and he wasn’t going to let you fend for yourself through this, even with Bucky by your side.

“We have to give them the money,” Sam replied. “We can find out who the door guy gives it to and arrest them or track the bills, but we have to get the money.”

“I don’t have the money,” you confessed. Everyone except Bucky seemed surprised. “I make $200,000 before taxes. Before I got this new role, I made half that. Even if we don’t deduct taxes and the expenses I do pay for, I wouldn’t have even close to two million.”

Everyone went silent again until Steve finally spoke up.

“We need to talk to the doorman.”

•

Bucky stormed out of the elevator, rushing ahead of everyone with murder in his eyes. He gripped the front of Matt’s suit and shoved him against the wall, shaking the letter in his face.

“What the fuck is this?” Bucky was seething.

“What?” Matt squeaked. His eyes were wide as saucers. He was clearly not expecting this confrontation. Bucky just shook the letter again to draw the doorman’s attention.

“Wait. You got one too?” Matt asked. Bucky’s grip loosened as he stared at the shorter man in confusion. You instinctively looked at Peter, who looked just as baffled as you. “I-I got a letter like that. In my locker. This morning.”

“Show us,” you demanded. Bucky released him but Matt’s eyes saw the posse of Avengers behind you (save for Peter, who he probably assumed was either a friend or boyfriend — secret identity and all that) and he rushed all of you to the locker room.

It was a small room since there were only a dozen doormen in your building, if that. He opened his locker and revealed a letter that was nearly identical to yours, but with no mentions of his looks and a much different threat.

“They’re threatening arson?!” you nearly shouted. Bucky and Steve read the letter before handing it to Sam and Peter to check out as well.

“They included pictures of my mom and sister,” Matt explained, clearly scared of what might happen to him and his loved ones. “They know where I live and they know who I live with. I-I would’ve taken this to th-the police but I didn’t want to risk it.”

“They have the later date listed for him,” Sam said. “You had one week to get the money or they’d tell Tony, two weeks or they release the tape. Now we have two weeks to save his family.”

Everyone in the room fell silent once again. Eyes fell on you as Peter quietly repeated his earlier question: “What are we gonna do?”

Despite all eyes on you, you turned to Bucky, who continued to study the letter. His jaw flexed as he thought and if this had been any other time, you would’ve kissed the tension away.

“We’re gonna tell Tony.”

#bucky x reader #bucky x stark!reader #bucky barnes x stark!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes series #Bucky smut #Bucky x reader smut #Stark!reader

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shotofire · 4 years ago

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bonjour,how are you ? well a oneshot for levi with a kind and shy cadet s/o, who respect everybody but when she gets mad, she'll answer with sarcasm cuz she's dumbass without being afraid or caring about the punishment(even if it's keith or another chef, no body have the right to treat her like a shit) merçi beaucoup ^^✨

Hi friend :p i’m great and I hope you are as well ! Thank you for the request <3

LEVI ACKERMAN x F!READER

Warnings: cursing, age gap (legal of course)

Season: not specified

Becoming apart of the Survey Corps was everything but glamorous. Not that anyone would think that, but things definitely were on the ugly side most of the time. To be a scout required discipline and a huge amount of focus. To lay down your life without a second thought would be hard for just about anyone. For some reason, you found it rather easy.

Not a single person believed when you’d say it wasn’t that complicated. Of course knowing you’re going to die isn’t the most exciting thing to come to terms with, but every scout needs to. When your mind is set like that you only excel from there, and that’s exactly what you did. Many of your peers found you admirable, and only wished they could think they way you do.

Levi Ackerman especially found interest in you. At first to find a girl younger than him was controversial, only to him, and he worried that others would accuse you of trying to climb up in the ranks. Soon everyone knew Levi was not the reason you excelled. Sure he’d help you train and push you to your limits, but your natural inner strength is what has kept you alive.

The two of you never classified your relationship, but it was obvious it was closer than an ordinary friendship. There has been several occasions where a group of cadets have spotted you sneaking out of his office. One time Erwin saw you go in without even knocking, that’s the day he knew Levi Ackerman was definitely whipped.

Many couldn’t imagine how you two even came together. Levi was quiet, and only really spoke when giving orders. Then there was you, the quietest girl that had ever entered the Survey Corps. Nobody was being dramatic when they said to hear you speak was rare. You tried to keep to yourself, getting close to others was a weakness. Then Levi entered your life and screwed up that little plan, and now you were perfectly smitten with the captain.

The relationship, or whatever you’d call it, was kept at a minimum to the eyes of others. The furthest it had gone to give others a clue were the office visits, and the way you’d smile at him in the halls or during training.

Before the two of you became a thing you’d given him a few sarcastic remarks. Initially he saw you as someone who needed remediation, but that soon changed. The man saw so much of himself in you it was ridiculous, and he soon started to understand you. On the occasions you’d been a urchin he realized that you were simply sticking up for yourself.

It shocked many to hear the quiet girl stand up for herself, especially to someone as scary as Levi. Unlike everyone else, you didn’t find him intimidating. In all honestly, you didn’t find any of the commanders, chiefs, or captains worth cowering over. You’d experienced titans break down the wall to your home village and devour people in your late teenage years. A couple of humans were the least of your fears, especially men.

Those sarcastic remarks and dramatic eye rolls is what drew the captain in. Not to mention your strength was something they hadn’t seen in years. Some would go as far to say you were worth a hundred soldiers. The raven-haired man made it his mission to get closer with you. This feeling had never been within Levi, that’s how he knew you were special.

He knew you so well after years of watching you become stronger and more skilled. You may be young but you were better than half the soldiers who’d been fighting for a decade longer.

Levi was worried about today, it had been on his mind for weeks. It was time for commander Keith to do his annual checkup. Levi found it rather pointless but it had to be done. The sunkened eyed man always came when he brought a new batch of soldiers. Levi had managed to steer you clear of him year after year, but it still worried him. Keith was a loud and rude man most of the time, and that was your biggest pet peeves. To come face to face with a walking version of the things you hated wouldn’t end well. He knew if the man pushed your buttons in the wrong place you’d have plenty to say.

He spent majority of the day convincing you to train with him away from everyone else. It was his usual solution for this day, to have you separated. As the years went by you started to pick up on it, it’s not like you were dumb. Around the same time every year Levi did this and it started to become obvious and you knew something was happening.

Right now you were trying to take the wooden knife from his hand and pin him down, which was something you hadn’t done since the earlier years. It had been round after round of outsmarting him and throwing him to the ground that you finally spoke your mind, “Levi what’s going on? Everyone is gathered out front and we’re here, I want to get the experience that the others are.” He could see the frustration running through you, and the annoyed on your face expression was prominent.

You didn’t like when Levi took you to do things one on one when everyone else was together. There was a fear of judgment, what if they thought you were getting special treatment? This is what that was to you. Levi was much more skilled than anyone else out there and you were getting to do combat with him, which is unfair in your eyes. “I just wanted to have some alone time with you, is that okay?” The man may have a face that mainly consists of one expression, but you knew he was lying.

He knew you saw right through him once you scoffed. “I’m going to join everyone else, feel free to come with.” There was no stopping you now, even if he tried it’d be more obvious that something was going on. Your eyes scanned the groups of your fellow cadets, and a few you didn’t recognize. Did we get a new group today? You asked yourself.

Before you can really process what’s going on, a bald man with weird eyes is making his way towards you. You recognized his face from past expeditions, but didn’t care enough to remember his name. “Late to meet new fellow cadets?” He asked baffled, a bit dramatic in your opinion. Getting new cadets was nothing special or new, so who cares if you were late? Half of them would be titan food in the next month.

He was quick to talk before letting you answer, but you weren’t sure if you were even going to say anything. For a second you considered just walking away. Someone coming up to you and raising there voice for no reason was enough to irritate anyone. “You’ve been here for years but have never bothered to show up to one of these, maybe you should learn some respect cadet.”

Levi watched from afar with wide eyes. Of course Keith was already talking to you, the man had it out for you. He’s complain that you kept to yourself too much and it was suspicious, and hated that you never showed up to these. Half of that was obviously Levi’s fault. Keith wasn’t aware of that and also wasn’t aware of your relationship with the captain.

Keith’s eyes become staggered when you let out a light snicker, cheeks upturning into a smile. “What the hell is funny?” He asks with his arms crossed, still trying to be intimidating. “The fact that you think i’d ever be afraid of someone like you.” Your words made his mouth fall, no one had ever said something like that to him. He’s pretty much convinced himself at this point that everyone feared him in some way. Then there was you, showing him he was completely wrong.

“You should have some respect!” The man says, stepping closer to you. “So coming up to me without introducing yourself and yelling in my face earns you respect? I don’t know where the fuck you came from, but we say hello first here.” He was down right astonished by you. The smirk on your face made his blood boil, you had zero alarm of him. Before he could come back at you, which he was struggling to think of something, Levi’s hands were on your waist. “Oh well okay, i’m gonna take her away from you now.”

Levi nervously laughs as he pulls you away from Keith. You didn’t want to be around him any longer so Levi taking you away was perfectly fine with you. “What’s that guys deal?” You asked with your lips pushed up and you eyebrows knitted. “As you can tell, he’s not a fan of you.” Well duh, you could tell. You look over Levi’s shoulder to see the man was still looking at you with his same crossed arms. “What a freak,” you mumbled and Levi huffed.

“That freak is pretty important to the scouts, he could have you removed if he really wanted to.” That statement didn’t scare you one bit. Everyone would raise hell if you got taken away, Levi even knew it. “He said I never show up to these, do you know why?” Your brow is quirked and your hand is on you hip, fingers tapping against it. It had become evident that Levi had kept you away from the man, but that seemed to have made things worse over the years.

“I’m sorry,” he said while scratching the back of his head. He knew you had already figured it out by the way you were looking at him. You laughed a bit at his mannerism, the guy really had you isolated from someone like Keith. “It’s fine, you just need to understand I can handle myself.” You smile and Levi ruffles your hair. “I’m well aware you can handle yourself. I experienced the (y/n) attitude when you first got here, don’t think I forgot.” You chuckle thinking of the hard times you used to give him.

“Oh you loved it, didn’t you? I mean look at us now.”He rolls his eyes at you and you can’t help but let out another laugh. “Yeah yeah, whatever you brat,” he says playfully, “Just avoid Keith till he leaves. I don’t feel like listening to him complain about you, I may use choice words with him myself.” You scan to make sure no ones looking, Mainly Keith, before you smack a kiss on his cheek. His cheeks heat up at the gesture, which you’d never done in public before. “You sound like an old man, I may use some choice words,” you voice deepens as you restate what he had just said.

Before he can say anything your giving him another kiss on the cheek and walking off, “I want to meet some cadets this year, unlike all the times before this.” He presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek and narrows his eyes at you playfully. You walk off with a smile and wave, getting ready to greet the cadets. This would probably be the only time the new comers heard you speak to them directly.

Levi’s eyes watch you, then they widen when he sees Keith headed straight for you.

Shit, not again.

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clintbartonswife · 4 years ago

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i’d trade my life for yours

Pairings: Geralt of Rivia x Jaskier Summary: Jaskier will be loyal to Geralt until his last breath, this he swears. Notes: im sorry. descriptions of torture. mentions rape (not graphic in the slightest, more like an allusion, but tagged it just to be safe), major character death. This is the bad ending, for a nicer ending read the series below :) masterlist || nicer ending (p2)

Jaskier had always felt too much, falling a little bit in love with almost everyone he meets. The seamstress from Beauclair with the deepest green eyes he had ever seen, the knight from Kerack who had muscles the size of Jaskier’s head, the innkeeper and his wife from Rinde who had the warmest smiles he had ever seen.

All loves that he treasured, yet let go after a night or two, the heartache keeping him company until he found another gorgeous person to fall for.

When he finds Geralt at the ripe age of 18 it’s different, for once the bard doesn’t want to leave, a nagging feeling pulling him along the path by the Witcher’s side.

His love grows easily, from that of shallow appreciation of his honey golden eyes to a fierce want to protect his love from those that scorn him in every village they visit, a need to nurture the fragile relationship they were building.

It’s only Jaskier’s luck that the only person to ever intrigue him enough to stay seems to want him to leave, impenetrable walls built around his heart.

So, Jaskier writes songs of their travels, being respectful of Geralt’s boundaries whilst still trying to provide as much tender love and care as he could without scaring the Witcher, all the while falling deeper and deeper in love.

Everything starts to go wrong after the djiin.

He watches through the window as his heart breaks with every thrust of Geralt’s hips, the Witchers disinterest (which he had assumed was general Witchery distance) suddenly making more sense - he just didn’t like Jaskier.

Still the bard stayed, sewing his heart back together with every step he took beside the Witcher. His affectionate touches didn’t falter, not allowing his own personal hurt to affect his Geralt negatively. He still deserved as much softness as he could bring himself to provide - Melitele knows Yennefer wasn’t providing that.

Jaskier funnelled all of his creative energy in to his songs, more and more of them staying in his private notebook, too personal to be sung in front of Geralt, let alone the general public.

After each time they met with Yennefer, Jaskier was there to pick up the broken pieces the Witch left behind, baring the brunt of Geralt’s bad mood for a week after she had gone, heart chipping a little more each time as his hatred for the woman grows.

The last straw was the dragon hunt. The whistling winds whipping Jaskier’s hair in his eyes as Geralt’s words lashed out at him, vicious and hateful.

In the following two weeks, Jaskier drank to forget, falling back into old habits and into strangers beds with a new desperation.

The young farmer with hazel eyes - not as beautiful as Geralt’s. The miller’s daughter with blonde hair - not light enough.

The people begin to blend together, yet it doesn’t work. The heartbreak still radiates through his body, numbing him from any other emotion.

He’s too drunk to register that Cintra has fallen.

Too drunk to hear the rumours of the bounty on his head.

Too drunk to notice the Nilfgaardian soldiers entering the tavern.

Too drunk to defend himself against their arms that steal him away that night.

When he awakens the next morning, head throbbing with the familiar pain of a hangover, Jaskier is hit with a wave of nausea.

Turning his head to the side, he reaches for the bed-side table, blanching when he finds his arms restrained. It takes a few seconds to register that he’s in unfamiliar surroundings: the distinctly tavern smell (of weak ale and piss) gone, the slightly scratchy linens of the bed replaced with a hard wood surface.

Unrestrained panic swelled up in the bard’s chest, his instincts kicking in as he tried to mimic sleep.

‘Just breathe slowly, keep your eyes closed and stay calm’ repeated through his brain, sounding suspiciously like Geralt’s voice.

“-the bastard up yet?”

“He wasn’t the last time I checked, no sir”

“And no sign from the Witcher?”

“None sir”

Jaskier heard a scoff as the door opened, two sets of feet stopping at the side of the chair. Unnerving silence fell for a few seconds, before a heavy kick was given to his ribs, punching the air from his lungs in a loud exhale.

“Now listen here, bard” the bigger of the two men all-but-growled, looming over Jaskier as the singer blinked heavily to clear the daze that had settled over him, “We’re going to make this real simple. You tell us what we need to know, and maybe we wont kill you”

Scrunching his nose in disgust, Jaskier considered his options, “What is it that you want to know?”

Another scoff.

“Maybe he’s not so useless after all” the tall man sneered, exchanging an amused glance with the man stood in the corner, “Tell us where the Butcher of Blaviken is”

Self preservation was forgotten as the nickname stirred up anger deep inside Jaskier, the unfairness choking him, “I’m afraid I don’t know any butchers, not the biggest fan of hanging around long enough in towns long enough to befriend anyone in that profession I’m afraid”

That earnt him a sharp slap, the sting helping to ground him.

“Don’t try to be smart. Where is the Witcher - Geralt of Rivia?”

“Oh, I do know him” Jaskier answered, tone kept light and conversational, “Of course I haven’t seen him in months so I’m afraid I’m really of no use to you gentlemen”

Another slap.

“Now that must be a lie. Why would the Witcher leave his little whore behind?”

Now that one stung, the frown forming on Jaskier’s face before he could stop it.

“Aw, struck a chord with that, did I? He found someone else I assume - though Melitele knows how anyone can lay with a monster like -”

Rage finally overflowing, Jaskier spat in the man’s face, “How dare you call him a monster. He’s a better man than you’ll ever be”

A bitter chuckle, followed by a punch that left the bard tasting copper.

“I think you might actually be in love with that thing” he said, amused, “That just makes this all the more fun”

Jaskier held eye contact with the man, glowering as he slowly spat out the pooled blood onto the floor.

“Tell me where he is”

“No”

Two punches to his stomach, and a hard kick to his shin.

“My sister hurt me worse than that for stealing her brush when we were seven” Jaskier sneered.

“Where is he”

A backhand across the face, followed by three hard kicks to his ribs.

“Toss a coin to your-”

Another heavy kick to his stomach, winding him slightly as he keeled forward, a burning pain spreading over his chest.

“Oh valley of plenty” he wheezed, forcing his head back up to stare at his captor’s face.

The day carried on very much the same, Jaskier working through his repertoire of songs as he was beaten black and blue, the lyrics keeping him focused and alert.

The man in the corner just stood and watched, his silent presence looming over the beating.

“I must say” Jaskier eventually huffed, directing his words at the man in the corner, “Your indifference to this situation is highly annoying. Are you not enjoying the performance?”

His question was met with another heavy hit to his stomach, the skin there surely covered in a patchwork quilt of forming bruises.

“You bore me”

The voice was cold, cutting through the pain like a knife and replacing all feeling in his body with the need to flee, an innate wrongness surrounding the man.

He stepped forward into the light, pink eyes flashing at him, “I think it’s high time we shut you up”

The taller man grinned, a shark-like expression that just added to the bard’s discomfort, moving behind him to grab him by the sides of the head, tilting him so that his neck was bared to the room.

They’re going to slit my throat, Jaskier thought absently, half delirious with pain, this is it.

The slimy tendrils of magic prodding at his mind made Jaskier’s eyes widen in panic, struggling against the bonds in a fruitless effort to get away from the unsettling sensation.

No. No this was so much worse.

He could handle pain. He could handle taunting words and harsh treatment. The one thing Jaskier couldn’t handle was fucking mages.

“No - “ he gasped, voice distorted by the angle of his head, “please-”

Yellow eyes. Lips curled in to a snarl.

The mountain.

“Damn it, Jaskier!”

No. No no no no no no no. Not this. Anything but this.

“Why is it whenever I find myself in a pile of shit these days, its you, shoveling it?”

White hair. Curled fists.

“If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands”

Wet eyes. Shattered heart. A wasted life.

“Damn it, Jaskier!”

And it looped. Again, and again, and again,

“Ready to talk, bard?”

His eyes fluttered open, eyelids heavy, fighting to remain closed.

“Fuck. You” he hissed, words mangled through gritted teeth.

The mage smirked, fingers reaching for his temple again, “Very well. It seems like one hour wasn’t enough”

The last thought Jaskier had before being pulled back to the mountain was one of horror, that one hour had felt like an entire day.

When he came to once more, Geralt’s voice still ringing in his ears, Jaskier realised there was a new man in the otherwise empty room.

“Going to talk yet little birdy?” the man asked, voice far too light for the circumstances, his posture reminiscent of those that approached him in taverns with hopes of charming him into bed that night.

The realisation occurred to him as he noticed his hands were free, a rusty cot added to the corner of the room.

“No” he whispered, the horror palpable in his tone.

“Well that’s too bad” the man sneered, his too-rough hands dragging him out of the chair and towards the cot.

The irony was that in that moment Jaskier would’ve given anything to have been back on that mountain, Geralt blaming him for everything, rather than be faced with his current reality.

Of course, the mage wasn’t kind enough for that.

Jaskier wasn’t sure how many days had passed since his capture.

What he did know was this: his throat was too sore to speak, ruined from both abuse and lack of water; his body was so mottled that it looked like he had begun rotting, greenish-yellow marks covering almost every inch of his skin; his back shredded by the impromptu whipping session earlier that morning; and he wasn’t sure he could muster a smile, even if informed of the untimely and gruesome death of Valdo Marx.

But, no matter what they threw at him, he would not betray Geralt.

He had made this vow to himself during a quiet moment on (what he guessed was) the second day, that no matter what faced him - be it further torture, mutilation and eventually death - he would not speak a word of the little information he knew.

He may have ruined Geralt’s life, may have annoyed him with his incessant and unwelcome company, but one thing Jaskier could give him now was his undying loyalty, the one thing that no one could take away from him.

They wouldn’t take away his love.

So he breathed steadily as he looked as his hands, tied down firmly to the arms of the chair, taking in every detail of the calloused fingers that made him the famous bard that he was today.

“Last chance. Where is the Witcher”

Jaskier just grinned, the smile bloody and insincere.

“Fucking your mother I would imagine” he croaked, withholding the wince of pain from the strain on his throat, instead widening his grin at the look of anger on the man’s face.

With a growl, the man brought the hammer down heavily on Jaskier’s left ring finger, smiling sickeningly at the bard’s agonised scream.

“Where is he?”

Head fuzzy with pain, Jaskier scowled and spat his blood in the man’s eyes.

The sickening crunch of bone echoed around the small room, Jaskier’s scream ringing out as another two fingers were smashed.

The line of questioning continued until all of his fingers were unrecognisable, the bard humming ‘Fishmonger’s Daughter’ through tears as he tried to regain control of his breathing.

“What a shame” the captor said, fake sympathy swimming in his cold eyes, “Looks like you’re worth even less than you were when we found you. What worth is a bard if he cant play anymore?”

The man pretended to think, tapping his chin thoughtfully, “Of course! A brothel worker!” He paused, tutting again and shaking his head, “No you cant even be that, we’ve made you far too ugly”

Jaskier tried to ignore his words, focusing on his rattling lungs instead, forcing them to inhale and exhale.

Unconsciousness crept forward, the pain finally overwhelming him, Jaskier falling into it’s open arms gladly.

“-cher isn’t coming for him. We’ve had the word out for two weeks and got nothing”

The words drifted in to Jaskier’s cell, the conversation prying him from sleep.

“So what do we do? The bard’s not talking”

“We were meant to give a destination by yesterday”

“So we make one up, blame the bard when it comes back empty”

“… That could work”

“Then I’m guessing we kill him afterwards?”

“Theres no reason to keep him”

“Well-”

“You’re not using army funds to feed just so he can be your personal whore, Cahir would skin you alive if he found out”

Jaskier huffed a laugh at that - the realisation that his worth had finally been reduced to what his father had called him all those decades ago, ‘a worthless whore’, ‘useless to polite society’.

The conversation carried on, though Jaskier’s mind drifted, thoughts racing yet head surprisingly clear. He shifted in his seat, only slightly to the left, wincing as the healing whip wounds on his back pulled open again, the stinging pain keeping him tethered to consciousness.

Not for the first time, he wondered where Geralt was. Safe, that he was sure of, hidden from the greedy eyes of the Nilfgaardian army if their unhappiness was anything to go off of.

Had he found Cirilla yet?

Was Roach okay?

Was he taking proper care of himself?

And - in even his lowest moments - he found himself wondering how Yennefer was.

If she was handling the break-up better than he did.

If she was safe, happy, looked after.

Or maybe, perhaps even back with Geralt. The three of them playing happy families while Jaskier rotted in a cell and waited for a hapless death.

Being on your deathbed gave you a lot of perspective, Jaskier had realised, and he found it hard to even hate Valdo on occasion (until he regained some energy from a piece of stale bread thrown at him and immediately felt disgusted that the thought had even crossed his mind).

As the fog in his brain seemed to seep into his dimming vision, his thoughts returned to Geralt’s eyes.

“Goodnight my love”

The news reached Geralt as they were passing a backwater town.

“The bard Jaskier - I swear it was! They dragged him out t’wards the Nilfgaard base”

“Tom stop jabbering, they would’a been shouting that from the rooftops if they got ‘im”

Coldness seeped into the Witcher’s bones as the words registered in his brain, his eyes flying to Yennefer. The sorceress was looking at him with pity in her eyes.

“I can try scrying-”

“Please”

Ciri watched in awe as Yennefer set up her equipment that night in their camp, bouncing with barely restrained curiosity at all the new instruments that the mage seemed to summon from nowhere.

The young princess’ enthusiasm calmed Geralt slightly, focusing on her youthful movements instead of the dread that settled over him at the thought of Jaskier’s current situation, guilt hitting him every few minutes as he replayed their last conversation.

‘If life could give me one blessing-’

“He’s in Neunreuth” Yennefer said, looking up with a solemn expression, “in a Nilfgaardian fortress”

“They were right” the Witcher breathed, utterly defeated.

“So we’re going to get him right?” Ciri asked, enthusiasm now dampened by the morose mood emanating from the two adults.

“Of course”

Yennefer quirked her eyebrow at his firm reply, before nodding in agreement, “We’ll leave first thing tomorrow”

Geralt knew the second he stepped out of the portal that something was wrong.

“He cant be here” he thought aloud, “It’s been abandoned”

Yennefer frowned, her expression telling him everything she refused to say out loud, “He’s here”

“No”

Striding forwards, the Witcher advanced on the old manor house, nose picking up on the scent of Jaskier’s blood the second he reached the front door.

“No!”

Strides turned in to a sprint as he chased the scent, denial still swirling through his brain as he got closer and closer to the muted wildflower scent.

“Jaskier”

The name fell from his lips as his knees gave out from under him, the sight of his bard’s limp body hanging from the chair punching all the breath from him. The smell of rusted blood was overwhelming, a pool in the corner dating back months.

Geralt sat there, disgusted by himself as he imagined how long Jaskier had waited for him to come and rescue him, how long he had stayed faithful to a monster.

He wasn't worth Jaskier’s life.

He wasn't aware he was crying until Yennefer laid a hand on his shoulder, “Geralt-”

“No” he hissed, struggling to his feet and moving over to the bard, “he cant be dead - he -”

Eyes wild, he turned around to face the sorceress, rising to his full height, “Fix him. I know you can - you did it last time”

“Geralt-”

Anger overtaking him, he pulled Jaskier’s limp body into his arms, unaware of how much his own hands were shaking.

“FIX HIM. YOU NEED TO FIX HIM NOW”

“Geralt stop”

“YOU NEED TO FIX HIM” he shouted, falling to his knees again, cradling the cold body in his arms as he sobbed, “Please fix him, Yen I need - I need you to fix him please”

The woman sighed, brushing a hand over Jaskier’s temple, looking for any sign of life.

“He’s gone"

Geralt’s cries could be heard in the next village over, lasting well into the night.

Not long after, tales of the White Wolf, Princess of Cintra and the Raven Sorceress were spread far and wide, the image of Cahir’s head on a stick engraved in the public’s minds.

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gophergal · 4 years ago

Text

Hooooo Boy! This took longer to write than I though, but with the help of @bucketofcowboys , I did it! (Encouragement from @bisexual-horror-fan was also a major motivator) enjoy this second chapter <3

I’m Not Lonely - Chapter Two

Word count:4 000+| Rating: M | Michael Myers x OC | M/F

Morning came, with all that entails. In the midst of her freshly awakened delirium, Jean was sure that the previous night's events had just been a strange dream. She'd been known to have dreams like that, especially when she was stressed. The paranoia induced by the news I listened to on the way home must have been the basis, she told herself. She had been exhausted and what she did in that dream was absolutely ridiculous. Never in a million years would she be so stupid as to do what she did. That would be like one of those foolish horror story protagonists that Jolene liked to tell her about. With a light chuckle, Jean changed out of her pajamas into the brown sweater and jeans she liked wear on cool mornings like this. There were plenty of things to do today, but none of them could be done on an empty stomach, so off to the kitchen it was.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs, the living room came into view, and suddenly her train of thought came to a screeching halt. The coveralls, with their dark stains and tears, lay on the floor, mocking her for her stupidity. Their owner, however, was absent, with no sign of his presence. Jean's heart began to beat far too fast in her chest as her mind raced with all the things that could go wrong. She turned suddenly to leave the room and crashed into a solid mass, stunning her for a moment. At once, she was hit with a wave of embarrassment as she was pressed against the chest of her uninvited guest.

“Oh! Excuse me, I didn't see you there,” She exclaimed, taking a step back from the man. Now, in the daylight, she could take the moment to realize how tall he was. He was about a whole foot taller taller than her, built like a football player, and, when she'd been pressed against him, solid muscle. “Um, I, well, I'm going to be making myself some breakfast. Would you like to join me in the kitchen?” He didn't answer, unsurprisingly, but she could feel his presence as she moved toward the other room. Her mind was a storm as she flipped an egg in the skillet. What am I even doing? She wondered, I don't know who the hell this guy is or what he did last night before he broke in.

Jean set a plate of eggs and toast in front of the stranger, then sat across from him with her own steaming plate. The air was heavy with tension as they sat, the man staring at Jean as she struggled to force her mouth to form words. Neither of them reach for their food and Jean feels the need to squirm in her seat. She spots her notebook and pen.

“Ah, I- Um, I never caught you name,” she pushed the paper and writing instrument toward him gently, “Mine's Jeanette. Jeanette Parrish. Well, I just go by Jean, because that's what everyone calls me.” She stuttered out. She would almost feel embarrassed if he weren't watching her in such an intimidating way. Like an owl watching a mouse scurry across the forest floor, waiting for the moment to swoop down with its talons bared.

Stop that, she thought to herself, you're working yourself up over nothing. The little voice of common sense returned, Or not. He very well could be dangerous. After all, how many good men just break into a person's home covered in blood, refusing to speak? Feeling a bit overwhelmed by the thoughts racing in her head, Jean pushed herself up from the seat a bit too forcefully, nearly knocking her half eaten breakfast off the table. She needed air. Somewhere without his eyes on her, forcing her mind to spin wild thoughts. She went outside to the utility shed, a basket of dirty laundry (she'd grabbed the filthy jumpsuit without thinking on her way out) pressed to her hip as she exited. The washing machine was set up to cycle and she leaned against it as it filled with water.

She let out a shaky breath, tapping her fingers against the cold metal as she calmed. The machine hummed and shook as it worked, the rhythm of it lulling her into a sort of relaxing trance, broken by the buzz signaling the cycle's completion. On autopilot, she removed the garments from the washer's drum and took them to the line, performing the repetitive motion of hanging them up to dry. When done, she went back inside, seeing no sign of the man when she did. He wasn't in the kitchen, where she had left him, the only sign of him being on the table, where his empty plate sat beside the notebook. Jean was amazed to see a name written down on the paper in a childish, unpracticed scrawl. “Michael,” she read softly to herself. Well, that answers one thing, she thought, but leaves a lot more for me to wonder about.

Michael watched from threshold undetected as the woman, Jean, flit around the kitchen tidying things up and washing the plates and silverware. She moved with purpose and care, reminding him much of the few nurses who cared for him in the sanitarium. One question kept coming to him, however: how stupid was this woman? When she first saw him, she did not scream or beg, or even run away. No, this one stood her ground against him, a thing of pure evil, silent and horrific. Admittedly, it intrigued him, her strangeness. He realized that she lived alone, yet appeared no older than his escaped prey, Laurie. Young women didn't tend to live alone, only old women and men did. She would have been an easy kill, had he chosen to do so.

Why hadn't he? Well he hadn't wanted to, of course. Why hadn't he, though? Enough. He wouldn't waste time on this line of thought for longer than he needed to. Only because you have no answer, The Shape spoke. He supposed that was true. He felt the same urges he had when seeing those girls Laurie surrounded herself with. The same urge he felt when he was young, seeing the life leave Judith. Jean was beautiful, and there was only one thing a devil could ever do to beautiful things: destroy them.

Jean felt eyes on her back as she put the clean, dry plates in the cabinet. She twirled around to see Michael in the threshold, head cocked ever so slightly to the side. She started to move again, not even noticing the pause she made in her movements. She walked past Michael into the living room, deciding to straighten the book shelves and sweep the floor. The usual intense focus she would fall into refused to come, the presence of another body too distracting for her to push from her mind. Why won't he leave, she wondered quietly.

Eventually, she gave up on the endeavor, choosing to flop onto the couch, frustrated. She picked up the book on the end table. Well, I could always start that book Jo recommended to me, she considered as she opened the book. She'd only gotten a few lines in when she felt breath on her shoulder, causing her to hesitantly look to the source. Michael stood, head tilted like a confused pup. She swallowed and pointed to the book, “Have you read this one? My coworker said it was good, but I'm not very fond of scary stories,” she said, “but, if you wanted, I could read it aloud and we could experience it together? You might want to sit down if that's the case.”

Truthfully, she just wanted him to stop hovering uncomfortably behind her like a cat ready to pounce. To her surprise, he did, though a bit closer than she was comfortable with, a closeness which was increased by gravity pulling her to the low spot made by his superior weight. She cleared her throat, “Well, I suppose I should start then,” a pause as she readied herself to read, “Chapter one: Job Interview. Jack Torrance thought: Officious little prick...”

She read until she could read no more, Michael sitting as still as a cold marble slab next to her on the old couch. When she looked up, throat scratching from the use, she noticed that it was quite dark outside and, upon looking at the clock, realized that she had missed dinnertime and her stomach was quick to confirm. Dog-earring the page she was reading, Jean set the book back on the table, rushing to the kitchen to get something to eat. She eats a plate of leftover meatloaf that had been in the refrigerator, and left a plate for Michael, should he decide to have some. With a yawn, she turned off the light in the kitchen, slinking up the stairs and looking over to the couch where Michael still sat.

The bedroom door was shut firmly behind her and she turned the lock to give her peace of mind while she slept. Are you so sure that will keep you safe, her common sense questions, when he's so close by? She pushed it from her mind, it's all she could do if she wanted to sleep. Besides, becoming paranoid wouldn't serve her well either. The bed wasn't comfortable enough to counter her stress and confusion over the situation she'd gotten herself into.

Jean awoke abruptly, horribly aware on this morning that the previous day and night were not, in fact, dreams. She was also horribly aware that she would have to leave her room at some point that day. Oh shit, she thought, I have to work tonight. Snuggling further into the soft comforter on the bed, she grumbled internally. She didn't hate her job, but she sure as hell didn't like it. Annoying, entitled customers weren't the only thing she disliked about it, but they were a big part of it. The next man to call her “sugar tits”, “babydoll”, or anything overly familiar was going to have to get her fist surgically removed from his face. She was a waitress, goddamnit, not a whore! And even whores deserved more respect than that. Both she and they were just working women, after all. How could that ever be undeserving of basic human dignity?

Rolling out of bed, she hissed at the cold hardwood under her bare feet. The weather is cooling rather quickly, she noted as she put on slippers, unlocked the door, and braced herself as she tiptoed down the stairs. There was no sign of Michael, which seemed to be the norm with him. She half expected to run into him again as she had the previous morning. He wasn't in the kitchen either. Or the bathroom. Or the closet. Not hiding behind her like the shadowy creature in an old monster movie. Finally, she checked the backyard, only to see that the man's coveralls were missing and in there place the clothes he'd borrowed had been lazily draped over the line.

It was- surreal in a way. He was gone just as abruptly as he'd appeared. It was almost sad to have him gone, in a strange way. The house felt emptier, like it was missing something. She shook her head. No, this was the way it was meant to be. She could only hope that he didn't decide to return. That settles that, she thought to herself, now I can just live my life in peace. All that left for her to do was get some breakfast and enjoy some time to herself. Same thing as every day. Eggs and toast. Get dressed. Tidy the house. Sit and read. She felt odd picking up The Shining again. It's rude to read ahead when you're trying to share a book after all. She put it down without a second thought. Picking up an old favorite, she began to read it all over again. It must have been the- what? Tenth time? Something like that. It was a comforting book to read, after all.

Soon enough, it came time to ready herself for the long shift ahead. Her clean, wrinkle-free pink blouse and black skirt reflected back at her in the mirror as she pulled her hair into a half ponytail in the back. She dragged herself to the car, an old gray clunker that had to be from the last decade or so. Jean didn't really know. It was granddad's from when he was a younger man, but she remembered how her brain would shut down every time he tried to talk cars at her. At least she knew how to change tires and oil, the mechanic could worry about everything else.

The door to the diner section of the truck stop swung open as Jean walked in. There was only one patron sitting at a table, a plate of meat and potatoes set before him. He looked up at Jean and gave her a friendly nod, which she returned with a smile. At least he wouldn't be a nuisance tonight. She walked back into the kitchen where Jolene leaned against a counter top as she chatted with Gus, the cook. He was a big man who's heart was as big as his biceps. He was an amazing cook too and, oftentimes, it made Jean wonder why he hadn't become a chef at some big fancy restaurant. He noticed her and grinned.

“Hey Jean, did you have a good day off?” he asked, deep voice carrying over to her. Jolene seemed to light up, turning to look at Jean.

“Yeah, it's never as fun around here without you!” she said. Jean smiled.

“Oh, y'know, same old, same old. I started reading that book you recommended to me though!”

“Really? What do you think? I know you're not one for scary stories, but I thought you might like this one.”

“Pretty good so far, actually. I didn't think I'd like it, but I've enjoyed it quite a bit. I like the atmosphere the author's set.” Jolene smiled at that.

“That makes me really happy, Jean. Now if only you'd just-”

The redhead was cut off by the jingle of the door as a customer stepped into the establishment. Jean flashed her a small smile as she made her way over to where the man sat down. She knew exactly what Jo was about to say next and felt as though she'd dodged a bullet when she got away. Now she'd just have to be sure she wasn't hit by the ricochet when they took their break. “Now sir, what can I get you?”

Finally, a quiet moment came where no customers sat in the dining area. Jean took the moment to join Jo as she left out the back door. Jolene stood in the light of the small bulb that flickered above the back door. She puffed away at a cigarette that she clenched between her peach toned lips. A grin quirked up to her lips when she noticed Jean, who sighed as she prepared for the usual lecture Jo liked to give her.

“Oh Jean, you wouldn't believe the guy that came in here yesterday,” Jo began, taking a pull off the dwindling white stick, “guy waltzes in like he thinks he's hot shit. Couldn't be any older than, what? Sixteen, I'd guess. Just some dumb fucking kid. And he says to me Ay, dollface, how's 'bout you get me a beer?”

She throws her hair around, “As if he thinks we won't card him, ha! I tell him about as much and say I'll bring him a soda, so Mr Tough Guy gets pissy, but agrees. When I leave to go get it though, the little bastard grabs my ass! What a pig, am I right?

Well, I know he's lucky that you weren't here because you would've been on him like that!” she snaps for effect, “well, Gus just threw him out and made sure I was ok, but still, what a little creep!” She finishes, throwing her hands up in the air as she did.

“Wow,” Jean began, a bit confused as she always was when Jo would go off on a rant like that, “the nerve of some people! You're right, I would've taught him some manners right then and there. Little bastard.” She swore.

“It's no big deal, I guess. It's not like I'm hurt or anything.”

“That's not the point! You know I can't stand when people like that act like they can just do whatever the hell they want.”

“I know, but there's no need to worry about it. Gus took care of it.”

“Not as harshly as he should have.”

“Well, you know that's just not how he rolls.”

“I do.”

“Now-”

“Oh no.”

“Don't you Oh no me! You didn't call my buddy Robert back!” She threw her hands to her hips, her brows furrowed.

“Jo, please-”

“You promised me that you'd give him a chance, Jean.”

“I did. We just didn't hit it off, I guess.”

“Ugh, that doesn't mean you get to be rude to the guy. The best thing to do is tell him up front.”

“I'm sorry,” and she was. Jo was just trying to help her, in her own way. This was the third guy she'd set Jean up with. It was sweet of her, but the help was unneeded and very much unwanted.

“I'm just- Well, I'm just worried about you. I don't want you to end up a lonely old woman, bitter because you never found anyone.”

“According to you, I'm there already,” Jean said, chuckling.

“Laugh it up, but when that happens you'll think: Oh, how I wish I listened to Jolene! She's always been so smart, why did I disregard her advice!” she danced about dramatically as she said this, throwing an arm over her head with the last word, making Jean snort-laugh.

“Alright, alright, you have a point.”

“Yes, I do! Now do you promise to keep an open mind?”

“Of course.”

“Pinkie promise?”

“Yes,” she said, holding out the finger, which Jo hooked with her own. The door opened gently and Gus stopped it with his foot.

“Something I missed?” he asked softly.

“No, no,” Jo laughed, “nothing at all!” Gus rolled his eyes.

“A'right then, well your break's up, ladies,” he said, holding the door open more so that they could enter.

Jean felt light as she drove home from work. Her shoulders were relaxed as the blackness surrounding her passed by. Talking to Jo and Gus was like therapy for her. She could almost push Michael and his intrusion from her mind. Almost. She was still a little worried that he'd show back up in the night. Thankfully, there was no figure on her couch when she unlocked and opened the door (making very sure to lock it back after her). There was no man sat at her table, no towering mass in her corner with intense black eye holes that made her feel weak and small. And that was how it stayed for days. That's how it stayed when she woke up to eat eggs and toast. That's how it was when she went to work and when she got home. For about two weeks.

She got home after a late shift, more tired than she had been in a long while. It had been the stress, she guessed, of Jo reminding her that she had no plans for the holidays that were rapidly approaching. No loving husband and in laws to fill her home with joyful voices and good memories. Being alone had its downsides, it seemed. She flopped straight into bed with a muffled groan of annoyance, then fell asleep with ease. It was also with ease, however, that she was awoken. First slowly by the creaking of her window and the cool breeze that came through it, but then abruptly by the sudden presence at the end of her bed.

The foreboding black shadow just stood there, the moonlight obscuring the figure in silhouette. She at once felt panic rush through her veins as she kicked her legs out. They connected with the figure's abdomen, forcing a deep strangled grunt from it. She flipped out of the bed, staggering to her feet as they tried to carry her to the exit. Her arm was grabbed, causing her to slip and nearly fall, had she not been pulled roughly to the figure's solid chest. She struck out with her free hand wildly, which was caught in a vice-like grip and, using the leverage gained from having her hands in its grasp, the figure pushed her roughly against the wall, pinning her and knocking the air from her lungs. The figure breathed heavily.

Jean squirmed helplessly against the wall, her torso bared vulnerably to her attacker. She squeezed her eyes shut, turning her head away and holding her breath as she waited for the inevitable. When nothing happened she opened her eyes and looked back, catching the sight of a telltale white mask and blue coveralls. “What the hell, Michael?” She breathed through a clenched jaw. He responded with a head tilt, as though he saw no issue with the situation at hand.

“You can't just do that!” She yelled, which amused him because he could, and he did.

“Can I at least have my arms back?” She asked, as he pretended not to hear her, keeping her arms in his cruel grip.

“I'm sorry I kicked you, but you have to understand that I was afraid I would really be killed- Or worse!” Were he any other man, Michael would have chuckled. Not yet, Jean, the Shape supplied for him. That would have to wait. Regardless, he released her wrists, which she rubbed gratefully. She left the room, pausing to look over her shoulder expectantly, almost like she was waiting for him to follow her. And so he did, down the stairs and into the living room where she plopped herself down on the couch. He sat beside her, feeling as she leaned against him at first, then readjusted herself on the couch.

“It's been a while, huh?” She said softly, peering at him nervously. “Well, I'll admit, I can't get back to sleep with all this excitement. I'd like to read our book. Would you like that?” He tilted his head, first to one side, then to the other, which she took as a yes of sorts. She cleared her throat, then picked up the book, “Alright-y, where were we? Aha! There!” And she began to read.

Michael didn't pay much attention to what she was reading to him. On occasion, he would tune back in to her words to catch bits of the plot. Not that it interested him, but her voice, on the other hand- It was mesmerizing. He'd heard women's voices before. Obviously. Usually they held the tone of disinterested disgust, much like the nurses at the sanitarium. Sometimes it was in the midst of a pleasured moan, much like his sister, Judith mere moments before her life ended. Best of all was their fear, their pain, their death. The sound of it intoxicating, filling him with a sense of control and satisfaction. Something about Jean's voice, however, was very different.

When he heard her voice, regardless of what he would think on first seeing her (that being the desire to snuff her out like a candle), he would begin to feel a sense of calm wash over him. He felt like a child again, hearing his mother speak to him in soft tones. Mother. She wasn't quite like his mother, this woman, but it was a closer comparison than to either of his sisters. She was caring. Not like the nurses, with their fake chipper tones and needles filled with numbing drugs. No, she was real. For a moment, when she bandaged his wounds, he remembered Sunday school and the stories of angels he was told. Is this an angel? He asked the Shape. No, it responded angrily, this is flesh and blood. This is for you to rip and shred. To break into a million pieces. But not now, not yet. Now you wait. Now you remain patient.

And so he did.

#michael myers #slasher x oc #slashers #michael myers x oc #gopher writes #I'm Not Lonely

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dearest-alexander · 4 years ago

Text

Hither and Thither Chapter II- 365 DNI fanfic

Summary: She saved him, in so many ways a man could be saved. Massimo x Laura.

Read it here! I’m not that active in Tumblr. Check these sites for updates.

AO3

FANFICTION

CHAPTER II- Search and Rescue

Sicily, Italy

He was staring at the ceiling fan for what almost felt like hours. He was hoping, in some way, that the blades whirring above could distract him from his overworked brain.

He couldn't sleep. He didn't want to.

By some reason, the nightmares were more constant these past few weeks. He would wake up in the middle of the night, sweating; his mouth in a half scream. His hands instinctively going to his side, to the scar that hurt the most. He was expecting the warm, thick liquid seeping out of him, draining his life. One spill at a time.

Sleeping was not an option anymore.

And as the stressful nights increased, thinking of her became the automatic alternative.

The only alternative.

As it had been for the past five years.

He closed his eyes, recounting the only and best part of that day.

The raven-haired, dark eyed beauty.

Stay with me. Her voice resounded.

For five years, he's haunted by her image, the sound of her voice, the gentle warmth of her hands. For five years, he's been trying to fill the void, she unknowingly opened. And for five, long years, he's been scouring around the world to find her.

No one could confirm that she was real. Except Alek whose description of the day solidified his determination to find her.

She saved him.

All hell broke loose once they exchanged gunfire. A stampede ensued in the marketplace. Alek managed to drive through the commotion, the woman was still with them. She refused to leave him, even as his other bodyguard, Theo, threatened her. Even then, as they reached the packed hospital.

They rolled him to the emergency room. But en route, due to blood loss, organ failure and shock, he went straight into cardiac arrest. Alek told him how, without hesitation, the woman jumped into the hospital bed, straddled his chest and revived him.

She had single-handedly brought him back. No medical instrument needed.

When he woke up a few days later, the woman wasn't there. Nobody could tell him who and where she was. She didn't leave anything behind. The hospital CCTV cameras didn't get a decent snap of her. The swarm of victims from the stampede, and their relatives didn't help either. He didn't fret about it. He thought that with his connections, he'll find her in a heartbeat. He was complacent, he could find her.

How wrong he was.

From the way she acted professionally, they speculated she was a doctor or a nurse. Or something related. He ruled out her being a doctor, because she looked no more than 30.

Unless she's some kind of prodigy.

He began his search again in the hospitals in Cefalú. Then to local clinics, schools, then volunteer groups, and laboratories. When she wasn't, he tried the nearby town. And the next town. And the next town. And the next. The whole country. The continent. It took a whole solid year.

Sensing that he might've misjudged something, he changed his focus to airports, then to hotels. The tourists that visited the country, spanning to three to six months that summer. He started with Cefalú again. But, even that was still unsuccessful.

It was arduous work, he was aware of it. It's about to be the craziest thing he'd ever done (and he did plenty). But nobody had the gall to call him crazy. Not to his face, anyway.

To be honest, he almost wanted to give up. He wanted to accept defeat for the first time in his miserable life. Without a single progress over the years, he had questioned himself if she was even real. But whenever he did, he would try to distract himself on the endless queue of ladies on his bed.

But the harder he tried to forget her, the memory became more vivid, more real. All his efforts to forget her will be futile. He's back to square one. He'll eventually find himself scanning the reports his people will give him the next day.

What was it about that woman that makes her so damn hard to forget?

Her tenacity?

Her kindness?

Her willingness to save a stranger?

Save him?

The questions were making him restless all these years. He wasn't used to not knowing, not having the thing he wanted. He figured it'll all be answered when—not if—he finds her.

Sometimes, he would daydream of the day he'll finally find her. What would be the first thing he'll do? He didn't know a single thing about romance. He reminisced about those sweet things his father did for his mother when she was still alive. All the things he could remember from his 8-year old memories. He figured, he'd thank her first. Wouldn't that be a first?

Then take her to dinner?

Give her flowers?

Take her shopping?

Give her jewelry?

All that romantic shit he swore he'd never do.

He recalled the old conversations he had with his father. He'd tell him how he met his mother, how she made the notorious Don Victorio Torricelli puny in her arms.

"Women are heaven for the eyes and hell for the soul." His father would tell him.

And he would add, in a cheeky tone. "And purgatory for the wallet."

But he had a tingling, annoying feeling, she'd be worth every euro. Hell, she could spend all his money and he wouldn't care less.

He had never had a more disturbing thought than that.

The woman next to him stirred and snuggled closer to him. She kissed his chest and opened her eyes.

For a moment, he anticipated the gray eyes that tortured his dreams and reality. Instead of the haunting grays, the eyes staring back at him in wonder were deep violet. Like amethyst —cynical, majestic and arrogant. A true reflection of the woman beneath.

He looked away, disappointed.

She was beautiful, perfect, powerful, flawless in every way, even he could admit that. With her dirty blonde hair, tan complexion, long legs and lean physique, men and women bow at her feet.

She was a good diversion, a good release for all the pent up frustration of his existence. He could tell that it was the same for her. For the first few years, anyway.

"Awake already?" She asked against his shoulder, clutching the blanket keeping her decency. "How can I never tire you out?"

He stretched his arms above him and under the pillow to his head. He watched the fan blades again, nonchalant to the kisses she started. Her hand started trailing downwards, tempting. But not tempting enough.

"Fermata."

"You weren't saying that earlier." She said between kisses. Her nails raking his abdomen, down, down.

There was nothing more irritating than disobedience. He clasped her wrist. "I said, stop."

He threw the covers and picked up his pants, phone, and his gun on her bedside table. He didn't need to look at her to see or feel her violet eyes digging holes in his back. He was buttoning his shirt when she spoke.

"Ti amo."

He sighed, his fingers couldn't close around his buttons faster.

"Ti amo, Massimo." She repeated, a little louder this time.

He raised his eyes and unsurprised to see her glistening eyes. "Don't make this hard, Anna."

She sat forward, the blanket, no longer her concern. It slid down her breasts, pooling down her wide hips. "Why not?"

Fuck, why are women so complicated?

He knew he should've gone to Magdalena or Althea instead.

He didn't answer her. He grabbed his suit jacket over the chair, but before he could put it on, he heard her said,

"It's because of her isn't it? That woman."

He stopped, but remained his position- his back to her.

He heard get up, her naked feet treading on the wooden floor. To him.

"You thought that I wouldn't find out that you're still looking for her? After all these years?" Her voice, croaked yet poisonous.

He muttered a curse. A jealous Anna was as dangerous as a hungry lioness.

"Don't you think it's time to give up, Massimo? It's pointless. You will never find-"

The remaining patience in him snapped. He faced her, his hand immediately closing around her throat. He felt a sense pride surge in him when he saw the flicker of fear in her violet eyes.

"Don't."

Anna grabbed the hand holding her throat and faked a confident smirk.

"You will never find her." She enunciated in a tone meant to dishearten him.

He tightened his hold on her jaw. And the fear in her eyes pulsed.

He hissed, truth staining his words, "And you will never be her."

Her eyes widened and he swore he heard something inside her iciness, break.

He released her.

Anna stared at him, her eyes watering. He should be sorry. Or apologize, or feel remorse, feel something, whatever people fool themselves with. But he doesn't. The cavity where his heart would be was only a hollow, corrupted emptiness.

Fuck manners.

Fuck tradition.

Fuck Mario and his dream of marrying a Torricelli to a Rizzuto.

"I can't do this anymore." He said.

And this time, he knew he meant it.

He passed her and put his jacket. He headed towards the door, not the very least concerned that Anna might point a gun on him.

She, of all people, knew better than that.

The mansion was dark and empty, but her men lurk every corner. He went down the grand staircase, the candles on the walls were his guide. He heard and saw his and Anna's guards huddled around the table in the foyer. They were knee-deep in a game of poker. And from the boisterous shrieks of her men, his team was losing. Domenico was laughing, but when he met his eyes, he cleared his throat. The men scurried with their spoils, stuffing them in their pockets.

The car was already outside. Alek opened the door for him as he checked his phone. Beni, his IT guy, sent him the reports he's gathered for the day.

He flipped through the profiles of women as they drove through the night. All of them were raven-haired, has dark gray eyes, aged 25 to late 30's. Single women, married women, lesbian.

What if she changed her hair now?

Or what if she was wearing contact lenses that day?

What if he already found her profile, but missed it?

Worse, what if she's married? Or has a kid?

He exhaled a sigh of frustration, leaned his elbow on the door and pinched the sides of his nose.

Where are you?

Beside him, he could feel his brother smirking at him.

Without taking his eyes off his phone, he warned. "If you don't stop peeking, I'll gouge your eyes out with the same toothpick you're using."

Domenico tittered with amusement, but looked away anyway. Unlike everyone else, his brother still supported his foolish pursuits.

He was caught up with his task when Domenico reminded him,

"Mario's asking me if we're still going to Rome tomorrow... er in a few hours?"

Ah. Fuck.

He glanced at his clock, 3:12.

"Tell him we're leaving at 5. We'll be back here at 11."

"Va bene." Domenico simpered, chewing on his toothpick.

Massimo closed his eyes and her image intruded his darkness again. Her delicate steady hands. A pair of eyes that were the darkest of grays that resembled the storms at sea. And her radiant smile that was nudging something, waking something in him.

I'll find you.

Whatever it takes.

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

Warsaw, Poland

The sandwich her assistant left for her was sitting idle, cold on her table. It reminded her that she hasn't eaten her lunch yet. Or her breakfast.

She's been working on her lateral and sales report she thought she could give to Marek today. If Oskar was correct (he usually is), she'd be getting that promotion today. Though, no one in this company comes close to her credentials, she felt that she should still secure it. She hadn't stopped since last night. Even when Martin came home at 1 in the morning.

Her nails tapped against the keyboard in unwavering determination. The classical piano music she's listening to was helping her concentration. She worked on her keyboard as if they were piano keys, an instrument close to her by heart.

She's only two words away when there's a knock on her door. From the corner of her eye, she saw her assistant peeked her red head behind the door.

"Miss Biel?"

"Yes?" She answered, without taking her eyes off her screen.

"There's someone here."

Oh, God. Please don't be Martin.

They had a little argument today. Again. This time, it was about the empty carton of milk he keeps putting back in the fridge. They had a little scream fest, thus the reason for her lost of appetite. She was finally seeing the pig Olga was describing. But still, she felt regretful when he stormed out of their apartment. In a day, they'll be travelling to Sicily and she wouldn't be caught dead going alone on her own birthday. Let alone, be alone in an airplane.

She frowned, "Who?"

Her assistant opened the door to reveal her long-time friend.

The second her eyes landed on the baggy sweatpants, she knew something was wrong.

"Bianka!" She pushed her chair and strode towards her. She pulled her into a tight hug and nodded to her assistant, who closed the door behind her.

If Olga's the craziest and loudest person, Bianka's always been the most timid, the prettiest. She's the heart of their little group, their valuable asset. Put Bianka in front of the group and they're sure, bouncers would let them in, people would part and give them way. Men, women craned their necks whenever she passes by. They never pay for their own drink in the bar— much to Olga's pleasure— whenever Bianka was with them. She lost count of the times Bianka saved their asses with her power of persuasion and flirting. She had the charming face and the body of a supermodel that everyone envies. Mile-long legs that look good in any dress, plump lips, a sun-kissed complexion, shiny brown hair that went past her waist.

But instead of the straight brown mane, was a disheveled nest for a hair. Bianka was a mess. Her clothes were baggy and wrinkled. It's a wonder how she got past security looking like that.

"What happened, B?"

Instead of answering, Bianka returned her hug and sobbed.

"There, there honey. Come, sit." With her still in her arms, she sat them on the nearby couch in her office. "Is it Russo, again?"

Like a plaguing curse to every beautiful woman, her friend decided to fall in love with yet another jerk. Though, this time it was an upgrade from the alcoholic she had before. This time, it was a user. They broke up not more than a month ago, but she tell could from the tousled appearance of her friend that she's not over it.

Bianka raised her head from her chest and shook her head. "No." She snuffled. "Well, not entirely."

"Oh honey. How many times do we have to tell you." She wiped her friend's tears and offered a handkerchief from her pants pocket. "He's not worth your tears. Nobody is. You're too beautiful for him anyway."

She continued, her tone half joking, half serious. "Can you imagine your children? I wouldn't forgive you if you ever had his children. I mean, poor little things Just, biedne małe rzeczy." She clicked her tongue.

Bianka let out a weak chuckle. "Yeah, we will have ugly children."

"See? Cheer up B."

Bianka sat up, grabbed her hankie, all the while keeping her head down.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there with you yesterday." she apologized, the guilt creeping up her stomach.

"I told you, it's okay. I know how your work is important to you." Her friend took a lighter tone and met her eyes. "So, did you kick Dexter's ass? Or whatever his name was?"

"Like you have to ask?" She chuckled and sat with a leg under her, her hand behind her bun. "You're now looking at the general manager of the Regent."

"Shut up! Shut up! Are you serious?" Bianka's face brightened with pride. She and Olga knew how long she has been waiting for that promotion.

"Well, not yet. The Senior asked me to go to his office later today to discuss yesterday and something." She replied, applying the quotation marks on the word "something".

"Well, I'm so proud of you. You deserve it." Bianka beamed at her.

And an idea hit her. She stood up and grabbed the handset from the phone on her marble coffee table.

"Sophia?" She called her assistant. "Won't you come over here, please?"

Within seconds, Sophia came at her door again. "Yes, Miss Biel?"

"Please book the same flight for Bianka Antos. She's going with me to Sicily tomorrow. Put it on my card. That's Bianka, with a K and Atnos as A-T-N-O-S. Check my book for her details.

Bianka's turquoise eyes widened. "No, Laura, no."

She smirked before adding, "Could you also go with Conrad to get my things in my apartment? Send it here. I'll talk to Oskar."

Sophia nodded, her hand still on the doorknob.

"That would be all Sophia, thank you."

And her assistant left.

"No, Laura. I can't let you—"

"It's already done. Sophia is very efficient. We're leaving 7 am tomorrow." She waved her cellphone, showing the confirmed flight. "See?"

"I can't, Laura. You can't"

"Yeah, I can." She insisted.

"I have—"

"Please. It's not like you can't bat your eyes at your boss, who, I think is the perfect match for you." She teased, before getting up to check on their reservation on her laptop.

Better cancel that queen-sized bed too.

"What about Martin?"

"We had a fight this morning. I don't think he's coming." She shrugged, unfazed.

"Why? What about?"

"Nothing. Something stupid." She replied with a resigned tone.

Bianka patted the empty space next to her, the spot she vacated not moments ago. "Tell me."

Bianka's always felt happy with her and Martin's relationship. She was their cheerleader. Unlike Olga, who was more vocal about her dislike and disapproval. When Martin proposed, Bianka cried as she congratulated her while Olga didn't talk to her for three days. Bianka's always been the one person she could go for a Martin-related advice. If there was someone she could vent out right now, Bianka was the right person.

"I'm not so sure if I should still marry him." She admitted, quite surprised by how steady she sounded.

"Why?"

"I… I don't know." She shrugged again. "Am I crazy? Or this was just cold feet?"

Bianka gaped at her, her smothered eyes, deep and pensive. "You don't love him anymore?"

She seemed startled by the question and answered in reflex.

"I do." And she repeated for good measure, as if it'll make it true. "I do."

Bianka cocked a groomed eyebrow at her.

Deep down, she knew. She had a feeling she had always known. Something about last night and this morning was the final straw. She sighed.

It was Bianka's turn to pull her in her arms. "Oh, honey."

"I'm okay. I'm okay." She appealed, hugging her friend back. "I just have to be sure."

They fell into a comfortable silence, until she heard Bianka mumbled,

"If you want my two cents, yeah, you should break up with him."

She gave a bittersweet laugh, pulled away and held Bianka's shoulders at arms length. "Who are you and what have you done to Bianka, the manager of Laura and Martin's fan club?"

Her friend looked relieved. "I'm happy if you're happy… Now." She clapped her hand on her knees and got up, enlivened of a sudden. "If I'm going with you to Italy tomorrow, I got some persuading to do. What was I thinking going here dressed up like this?"

She chuckled, "Glad to have you back."

"Do you have clothes here?"

Being the Sales Director, she's privileged enough to have her own office.

The wide window allowed her a view of the garden. Her office has its own powder room. A three-seater mid century blue couch and two white armchairs laid for her guests. Displayed on her walls were gold rimmed glass shelves lined with decor. At the center of the space, resting on the finely crafted carpet was her glass computer desk. It wasn't as big and luxurious like what Sawecki had. But it was enough for her. She was content with having her own space for a change.

She nodded. "Yeah. Check the cabinet in the bathroom."

"Please tell me that I won't find that same outfit in there." Bianka complained, pointing to her clothes with disgust.

She looked down herself. She was wearing a black pencil skirt, a matching black long sleeve and black pumps— her work clothes. "Why? What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

"Nobody died, Laura. Why are you always like somebody died?"

She laughed. "Go, get cleaned up. I also have some make-up there." She got up and fetch her phone again. "I'll call Olga, see if she wants to come too."

"Yeah, but you know what she's gonna say. You know how she is with Italy."

She stopped, her fingers hovering on the button.

She could still remember it as if it was yesterday. What's supposed to be a relaxing summer vacation became one of the most unforgettable moments of her life.

Some five years ago, Olga's cousin, Remri, invited them for the summer. Laura fell in love with the place. Everything about Sicily was a dream come true. From the landscapes, the culture, the ancient architecture, the people, the food. Everything was going well. Olga even met and hooked up with an Italian guy from Cefalú whom they met in one of the clubs.

One summer day, they drove down to Cefalú to see where the guy lived. They stopped by the marketplace because two of their colleagues wanted to check it out. Bianka and her boyfriend at the time went to find a restaurant while Olga and Italian guy stayed in the car. She didn't wanna be around with all the moaning and frolicking so she left them.

She was dawdling around, fascinated by the souvenir shops when Bianka called her. She told her to meet them at this Mediterranean restaurant they found. They're seated in the balcony overlooking the market and the sea when she heard it.

At first, she thought they were fireworks. She was about to joke that Italians have a weird sense of timing.

Who would light fireworks in the middle of the day?

But at the corner of her eye, she saw two bodies fall down. Then everybody was running in different directions, screaming, panicking.

One of the men in black grabbed the other fallen, an older gentleman and disappeared to the stairs.

It didn't take a moment for her instincts to kick in. She rushed to the body nearest her. A younger man— she could tell that he was Italian from his deep-set eyes, his stubble and bone structure.

No more than two years older than me, she remembered thinking.

He had a bullet lodged in his torso, right where his large intestine was. His body was going into a septic shock. And the guards around her were more concerned about who fired at them rather than the man lying on the balcony.

She remembered his brown eyes— so dark they looked almost black. She couldn't forget, how, even at the brink of death, they still look fearless, calm… exquisite. His eyes, his willingness to live motivated her to keep him awake, alive. They were the only thing that kept her from running away with the other terrified guests.

Olga and Italian guy were one of the victims of the stampede that occurred in the marketplace. Olga had been traumatized and swore she would never go back to Italy. They left as soon as they released Olga from the hospital hours later.

After that summer, she had never had a stronger MO to become a doctor.

But alas, life hit her like a bitch.

Sometimes she still wonders about the man and his dark chocolate eyes.

Did he live?

She hoped he did.

The creak of the door opening interrupted her reverie.

"Explain to me," Bianka announced, "Why do you insist on wearing black when you've got this in your closet?"

She turned around and sashayed towards her, fresh faced- far from the wreck she was earlier. Bianka was wearing her white off-shoulder peplum dress. It was the one dress Martin bought for compensation when he forgot to pick her up.

"Bright colors are not really my thing… If you want it, you can have it."

"No! After you have forced me to take that trip." Bianka whined as she checked herself in the mirror. "Stop being so nice for a change, Laura."

"Correction. I'm only kind to you. And Olga… sometimes… when she's not cranky."

"Did you call her yet?"

"No."

She got… distracted.

"What do you think she'll say?" She bit her nails. Olga could be pretty scary sometimes. "What if I told her there's gonna be free booze?"

"Ha!" Bianka scoffed, running her hand down her dress. "Even that won't make her come."

"But it's my birthday!" She pouted. "I want my best girls with me."

Bianka flopped down the couch where she was at. "For you my friend, I'll convince her."

"Thank you." She pursed her lips.

Bianka smiled and gave her a peck.

"Now, get out of here. I got some work to do."

Bianka got up from the couch and turned to the door, her ratty sweats in her hands. "I don't deserve you, Laura."

"Don't go sappy on me now. Get out." She grinned at Bianka blew her a kiss and left.

She went back to her desk and proceeded to finish her paper. When she was all done, she printed two copies of each and practiced her spiel.

With still thirty minutes to spare, she typed Sicily on the web and searched for activities she and Bianka could do. She cancelled the romantic getaways and listed her and Bianka's name in the Spa and the city tour. She was humming along the keys of Yiruma, astonished by the lack of guilt for Martin.

That must be a good thing.

Still have time to kill, she found herself googling "Cefalú Shootout 2015" again. But the results remain the same. As it had been for the past few years. The news only focused on the stampede that injured a hundred others. It mentioned nothing about the gunfire that happened in the restaurant. The Google pages ran out and still, nothing.

How weird.

How could they not report anything that big? It probably started the stampede in the first place.

There was a soft knock on the door again.

"Miss Biel?" Came a high, honeyed voice. She recognized the short, pixie-haired woman, her elfish face peering behind the door.

"Yes?"

"Mr. Marek is ready for you now." Marek's assistant informed.

Showtime.

"I'll be there in two."

She fetched her items and glanced at the mirror to check her hair and attire. "I don't dress for a funeral." She convinced herself, flattening the nonexistent crease on her skirt.

She made her way to the 32nd floor, her chin held high. She tried to keep the butterflies floating around her stomach.

This is it, Laura.

She held a conscious hand to her heart before knocking on the door. "Sir?"

Don't faint. Don't faint. Don't faint. No matter what he says, no matter what happens, don't faint.

"Come in." Said the deep voice from behind the room.

"Good afternoon Sir." She smiled, her brightest smile while clutching the folder behind her back. "You wanted to see me?"

"Ah yes, Miss Biel." The man stood up and extended his hand.

She grasped it.

His office was 10x bigger than hers. But you could expect that from the top senior position in the company. He has its own adjacent meeting room, a large lounge area, a comfortable bathroom and a 360 degree view of the city.

"Sit down, sit down." He pointed to the sturdy chairs in front of his table.

"Thank you."

"What do we have here?" He asked, eyeing the folder on her lap.

"Ah, these are the annual sales report for the past year. Thought you might want to see that." She slid him the file.

"Thank you. But I don't need to review this to see that the hotel is thriving, Miss Biel." He supplied and leaned back on his high chair. "All thanks to you. You're the best in this job."

"It's only because I have the best team, Mr. Marek."

"Hayden, please. Don't make me feel older than I am."

She tried ignoring the lewd glint in his eyes.

"Hayden."

"How many years have you been working for The Regent, Laura?"

"Four and a half years this coming August."

"And you started as a server, right?"

"Yes, si- uh, Hayden."

"Then you became our receptionist."

She smiled and nodded.

"I like your story, Laura. It tells me that hard work can get you anywhere… Is it true that you were a med student? Before you came here?"

"Yes. I, uh, I was on my Clerkship. But I had to quit."

"Yeah. I'm sorry about that." The prick didn't look sorry though. "If given the chance, do you still wanna go back? To studying medicine, I mean?"

She'd been thinking about it. But if she said yes to Marek, she might not get that promotion. "I still think about it to past the time but I fell in love with hotels. I can still help and serve people here, without the gory details."

Marek laughed. "Of course, of course."

He stood from his chair, and patted the file to his lips. "As you now know, we're in need of a general manager by the end of the week…" He half sat on the table, his beady eyes on her. "And I know for a fact, you're perfect for the job."

Yes.

She tried to control her voice. "I will do my best, Sir."

"Hayden."

"Hayden." She repeated with a forced smile.

"Good, good."

Okay, can she go now?

Marek, once again, stood and circled her in a way that reminded her of a predator.

She heard the alarming ringtones going off in her head.

Please don't do anything stupid. Please don't do anything stupid.

She willed her heart to slow down.

He stopped behind her and grasped her shoulders. She flinched, but remained seated. Even as he sniffed her hair.

She felt the bile rising from her throat.

"Yes, good, good. You will be good."

"Please, take your hands off me." She pleaded, keeping her voice firm and stable. Her hands, closed into tight fists on her lap, to keep it from shaking.

"You will do everything I say if you want still want that promotion."

His breath smelt like cigarettes.

She tried her best not to gag.

But then, he licked behind her ear and she cracked.

She stood up, his chin hitting her shoulder with a loud thwack!

Marek yelped in surprise and pain from biting his own tongue. "Mah tang!"

She turned on her heel and threw her quivering fist on his nose. It landed square on and Marek fell down on his ass.

Her fist was burning from the impact. Hot ball of tears wet her eyelids. Her entire body, being, shaking from the assault. "You can have your promotion, you fucking pervert."

"You bitch!" He cried, pinching his bleeding nose.

"Don't ever tough me again." She hissed and with great effort, she ran out. She ignored the sly looks from the people she passed by and went straight to her office.

Sophia caught up to her. "Miss Biel? Miss Biel? Are you alright?"

She's here already?

She wiped the tear running down her cheek. "You found everything okay at my apartment?"

"Yes... Um." Sophia pushed her round glasses on the bridge of her nose. "Your luggage is in the lobby. Shall I send them up?"

She shook her head. "No. But can you book me my usual room downstairs? I'll stay here for the night."

"Of course." Her assistant gave her a wry smile.

"Dziękuję Ci, Sophie."

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

The sound of the rotors touching down roused him from his dreamless sleep.

He sat up from the nook and took his seat. The stewardess proceeded to arrange the pillows and blanket he slept on. Mario has already been awake on the opposite gangway. The old man nudged a snoozing Domenico beside him who jumped out of his chair. His hand going to his holster.

Glad to know, paranoia runs in the family.

Business in Rome has always been a pleasure. The one-hour flight was almost worth it. But right now, he's looking forward to the day off. After the drama with Anna, he wanted to be alone. He craved it, like a kid with a candy. He felt like he deserves a moment of solitude. Away from the drugs, the prostitution rings, the guns, the people, and Mario. Especially Mario.

May be I'll take out the Titan this afternoon.

Of all the things he owned, his yacht has to be his favorite. It was his cheapest yet most treasured escape. Only a few selected people have the prerogative to join him there. He's determined to keep it that way. Mario hated it. Then again, the old man have always hated and avoided everything with the word "Fun" on it.

The pressurized cabin door opened. Mario rose from his seat first before a yawning Domenico followed him out the aircraft. He stretched his legs before he, too, was up on his feet.

"Hope you had a wonderful flight, Signore." Flirted the stewardess before flashing him a toothy grin. She was pretty and looked too rangy for a stewardess. Domenico must have picked her out the litter himself.

He ignored her and stepped out the threshold. The sun was blooming on the horizon, warming the sky in an orange bluish blanket. He inhaled the fresh and sweet Sicilian breeze, relishing it.

Home again.

He closed his jacket and donned his aviators. The sun may be pretty today, but that doesn't mean he stopped hating it.

"Massimo," Mario started as soon as he entered the car. "Montisanno wanted to meet with you regarding the new armory shipments."

"It's already here?" He asked, surprised.

"Yes. It arrived only an hour ago. They want to know if you wanna take a look."

Fuck. So much for the day off.

He gave him curt nod. "We'll go straight there." He ordered the driver who pulled up at the arrival area where a sea of people are waiting in queue for their taxi.

"Why are we going this way?" He asked, irritated.

The driver looked nervous and stammered a reply. Domenico stepped in for him. He shifted from the front passenger seat to explain. "They closed the private road for some maintenance."

"Out of all the days, they chose today." He grumbled.

"Infatti, no?" His brother muttered back, chomping down his gum.

"Where's your toothpick?" He joked, his voice flat.

He knew that Domenico was trying (and failing) to quit smoking. His "alternatives", including toothpicks and gum, were only making it worse for him.

He told him that if he wanted to smoke, then he should. They're all gonna die anyway, some way. And with their lifestyle, it's a guarantee.

Domenico turned to him again, his eyebrows wiggling. He bragged, "The stewardess has it."

His lips quirked into a smirk.

The driver slowed as a couple wheeled their push carts over the trolley lanes. A traffic marshall recognized their car and immediately stopped the other vehicles. The man was pointing for the other cars to move aside and make way. The man was wearing a very distracting tattered, neon vest. It was hurting his eyes.

He was staring forward, making a mental note to mention this detail to the governor, when a reflection caught his attention.

Everything moved, as if in slow motion.

But, not slow enough.

A black haired woman was arranging her hair in a messy bun. All the while, she was staring at his window. Her eyes, ever so gray and penetrating.

He felt his pathetic excuse for a heart, stopped.

The hair on his arms prickled.

He bolted from his seat and removed his sunglasses.

He spun on his torso, as they passed by her, unwilling to take his eyes off her, in case he was dreaming.

He couldn't speak.

He couldn't think.

"Che cos'è, Massimo?" Mario demanded, alert. "What is it?"

The woman was still staring at the car, as if she could see him through the back tint. Another woman approached her, smiling and pointed to the cab driving to them. The raven-haired woman broke eye contact and smiled at her friend. They loaded their luggages when their cab stopped in front of them.

"Stop the car." His voice between a rasp and a whisper.

"What?"

"I SAID STOP THE CAR!" He bellowed, his voice shaking the interior of the SUV.

The tires screeched to a halt at the side of the road. The impact forced Domenico and Mario forward in their seats.

He threw the car door and sprung from his seat. He ran towards the trunk and watched as she entered the cab. Her smile, not leaving her face.

He heard Mario and Domenico got out the car.

"What happened?" His brother questioned, his head swirling back and forth to his face and the taxi zone.

"It's her."

"What?!" Domenico walked to him, his eyes not leaving him.

While his, were not leaving her ride.

"Where?! Are you sure?"

His entire body was shaking.

He was sure.

This time, he was fucking sure.

The taxi was still stuck in the traffic behind them. He couldn't take his eyes off it. The windows weren't tinted. She was in the back passenger seat, he saw her removing her cardigan. She was laughing at her friend.

It's her.

It's her!

"Domenico, tell the second car to pick you up here."

"Massimo, be rational. We have-" Mario began.

"I don't care! I'm not letting her out of my sight." He was pulsing.

"Who?!" The old man looked mad.

He couldn't waste time.

The traffic was starting to move.

"Get out the car." With hasty footsteps, he walked backwards to the SUV. "Get out, I'm driving!"

The driver stepped down and away from the car.

"Look, let's be calm down for a minute here." Domenico amended and pulled his phone. "I'll ask Alek and the other guys to follow. I'm calling them right now."

No. It has to be him.

He memorized how the cab looked like. A white Ford Galaxy. The company's name branded on the passengers' and rear doors.

"Massimo?"

She's here.

She wasn't a dream.

After all these years.

Five fucking years.

She's real.

"Massimo!" Domenico called again. "Did you get a look at the plates?"

"BB 03813. The Airport Taxi company." he responded in a minute.

Domenico repeated it to the phone. "Okay, okay. Good." He hung up the phone. "It's one of Stefan's."

Cars zoomed past them. Nobody dared to horn; Everybody seemed to recognize the seal on the side doors.

"Good. Tell the second car to pick you up."

"But-" Mario interrupted again.

"Get out of my way or I'll run you over." He snarled, stepping on the driver's stool. His eyes anywhere but the nasty, senile man.

"You're gonna leave us here in the gutter?" Mario complained.

For a minute, he let his eyes wander to his brother. "Domenico…"

His brother nodded at him in understanding. "Alek has your back. The second car is on its way here. I'll make up for your absence."

"Fanculo!" Mario threw his hands up in exasperation.

He was never more thankful for Domenico than that moment.

The taxi took the east 92nd exit, he changed the gear to Drive.

He rolled the windows as Domenico hollered, "I'll patch the taxi's GPS on yours. Vai a prenderla, brother." Go get her.

He smirked at Nico before flooring on the gas.

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AUTHOR'S NOTES:

I made Laura (indirectly) curious about Massimo too, that way they're both weird together. LOL. I would like to believe that Domenico and Massimo have a great relationship. 'Cause I know Massimo won't have someone he doesn't trust to watch Laura. ALSO, I had different versions of the ending. At first, I don't want Massimo to come after her, but, after five years of pinning? It wouldn't make sense to me if he ordered somebody to do it for him. Tell me if you like it.

Still interested? 😬 My original plan was three chapters only, but if guys want maybe (?) I could do more and cover the entire movie. ?

PLEASE CHECK OUT THE AO3 site and Fanfic I added in the title. I’ll be uploading future chapters there. It’s so hard here on Tumblr.

#365 dni #365 days #365 days fanfic #365 dni fanfic #Laura x Massimo #Massimo and Laura #massimo torricelli #laura biel #michele morrone #anna maria sieklucka #Blanka Lipinska #archive of our own #fanfiction

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wetookanoath · 5 years ago

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Supernatural Season 6 | The Haunting of Loey Lane.

Shane and his Shaggy cosplay are everything I need to know to be asured this episode will be iconic. And look a thim go. I love him.

I am way too distracted by Ryan’s buttons being open, I’m sorry, I cannot fuction now.

“Oh, no voice this time?” Okay, but Shane’s smile is... fjnfiwsmdikr. Why is this man like this? Anyway... Ryan’s laugh and the way he just, turns on Host Mood again, holy shit.

The way Ryan is narrating this episode is even more precious when you look at the credits and see that he himself wrote this episode. “From guru to booru”, I fucking hate you, Shane. Ryan’s face, tho. That look between done and fond, same.

“I was very respectful”, honey you were high in medicine, shut up.

Weekend At Ghoul HQ, starring Ryan Bergara and real size doll Shane. “I believe you believe” it’s the creepiest shit, stop that.

Growing up in a haunted farmhouse? Same. Oh gosh, jokes aside, I’m gonna say this right now... I’m not going to discuss in public whatever I believe in what may happen in this episode or not. I’ve been realizing slowly that I don’t feel comfortable talking about these things online because believing has a lot to do with faith to me, and faith is part of my life in a way that is too important to me. That said, watch me make fun of my own faith all the time and discuss whatever else you guys wanna talk about with me regarding the show, the boys, etc.

Loey saying she has never been scared of ghosts it’s exactly how I feel about the paranormal and the supernatural in general. I mean, I don’t claim having any kinds of powers or touch, or what have you. But god, I would be so happy and enchanted by seeing a supernatural being right in front of me. And whatever may scare me sometime, it’s always human doing, it’s always natural, tangible, there. And even then, I do like being scared. So there’s that, I guess.

“Are we Bruce Willis in this situation?” how the hell did that came from what they were talking about, lmao. Another Willis mention this season, Mr. Die Hard will end up becoming part of the inside jokes in this fandom at some point.

“I love a little stirring” Shane looks so excited about doing Some Bullshit in this episode, and I saw how chaotic he was in his solo, I can’t wait to see it by myself. LMAO, this bit is both funny and kind of adorable. Also, witches AU.

“Why would you come to us uf you want us to fix it?” An excellent question I don’t understand either, to be honest. The show is not about actually hunting enthities or debunking shit, so this is... come on. I think we know what it is, lmao. But it’s fine, I like this House Call shit.

No ofense, but using a 100 hundred years old Ouija board as a decoration is like a horror movie plot where white people are white people about it. I love it.

*Rubs eyes and sighs deeply*

... What is Shane doing with his tongue? I, I, I don’t like that... Not a fan... Put that tongue back in your mouth, Shane. I don’t like this bit.

Shane calling Ryan a, like, passionate paranormal investigator and the bitch immediatelly saying he is insane is my aesthetic and also yet again, a great summary of the show.

“This is the part where you learn how truly boring it is to be a ghost hunter”, lmao. Talking about these parts, I love the colors we get from the cameras each time, I can’t wait to make the edit for this episode.

Oh man, it must be something to see these two grown ass men saying and doing stupid shit to get ghosts to listen to them and do something But also, Shane slowly walking towards Ryan to film a super close-up of his eyes, OKAY. They are so stupid.

That... that is a werid thing, Shane is right. Oh man, this is giving me flashbacks to that serial killer dude in The X Files that was obssessed with women’s hair/cleaning them up for burials.

Okay, that thing Shane just did with his mouth knocked me out for a bit. Imma head out. “That sounds demonic”, this better not be the season’s demon investigation. And oh look, what’s a supernatural season without Shane giving hints of him being a demon? It makes it funnier how he never really talks about it anywhere. Like he obviously knows aboutt he fandom’s joke, and I’m sure he keeps doing shit like this to feed it, but it all becomes even better when he just... never says shit about it. It’s always Ryan the one who answers when asked about it.

Cats do tend to get spook at everything and look up for no reason at all, every time my cats do that and one of nieces or nephew is around and asks about it, I always go “oh, he is just seeing the ghost that lives here” and then their mothers want to kill me.

Yeah, you don’t... do that. Horror movie 101. Don’t ever give permission to shit to enter. “Hey, can I come in?” “No, bitch, go away” is always the answer lol.

Guuurrrrllll...

This bitch ass thingy in her home really is there because of her. If there’s something in there, it’s not the place, it’s her. Also bitch ass demons as always listening to Shane is everything.

I.. like how Shane looks in that blue lighting. “Oh, you know what? Not bad, not bad”, why is he like this.

Ryan’s metaphores are excellent, imagine him giving talks to his future children by using weird ass metaphore and the kids just... staring at him.

“I’ll take you home with me, I don’t care” LMAO, imagine this idiot walking into his apartment, “Hey Sara? I got a demon, can we keep him?” “No” “Too late, I told him he is staying!”

“Assert my dominance” the smile? Awwww. The awkward moves of his hand, fjnvidnfir, Ryan is so fucking cute, makes me cry.

... What is Shane doing? I love how they just leave Shane’s whatever there while Ryan talks to Loey, fkjdniednfirnfgirt. Do that more often. Love that hair, also. Long hair is the best hair.

Shane literally saying he will use all the power he has gotten by defeating demons it’s such a powerful prompt. He is giving us the power to create shit, use it well, demon Shane writers and fanartists. “Alakazam! Big bang boom, hope you like hell, you loser.”, I fucking love this dork.

“What does that mean? You guys have inside jokes?” “Yeah, we bonded” JFNIERDNFIRF SHANE.

Loey is me and Shane is my brother, this is how we usually talk when one of us is saying some bullshit kfdndiofmkirg

“What’s your name? Come on, what’s your name? I know that gives away your power”, Ryan out there getting advice on demon hunting by The Conjuring 2 is the biggest mood. No, but for real-- there’s actually plenty of myths and cultures that believe the way to defeat some sort of evil is by knowing its name. It’s really interesting, the kind of power we really do give to names.

Not really a fan of this. Man, I really hope this is not the season’s demon investigation.

Ryan Steven Bergara Stop Saying You Are Annoying Or Ugly Or Whatever Negative Shit You Are Always Saying About Yourself Challenge.

This is such a “So... you come here often?” type of situation, djnfisndief, I love this. And we are back at the ‘I hate Shane’ bit again, I really stan a twelve years old. The fond voice with which Shane says “I mean, you are having fun”, awwwwwww. Cuties.

Shane looks hella cute doing his fornite dance, I hate him.

Did that shit just laugh after scaring this poor woman? JFNFIENFIERNIGF

Christ almighty, Ryan looks so fucking small at Shane’s side, what the hell? Also, this is so... damn adorable. Shane trying to teach Ryan how to do the dance, it’s hella cute. Oooohhmmmygoodddddd, I’mmmmm meltinnngggggggggg... Ryan’s little dance, djnfienf he is such a bad dancer, I love him so much.

This poor woman is having a breakdown in there and these two bitches are just being... whatever the hell they are doing, lmao. “You are suggesting a ghost farted in my face?” “Yeah” AHAHAHAHAHAHA.

Ryan suggesting the demon is asking her out for a drink and looking at Shane while doing so, jfniednfir what the fuck is that. This demon suitor just doesn’t know how to ask her out on a date, lmao.

“Our job here is done!” and Loey’s reaction, dkjnfeinfir same.

Get haunted for the aesthetic, why not? Interesting episode.

#buzzfeed unsolved #ryan bergara #shane madej #loey lane #bfu #supernatural #ss6 #loey lane ep #text #your local nerd talking.txt #mine #text*#ss6*#ss6text*#long post //#commentary #commentary*

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kisstheassassins · 5 years ago

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Treasure

Hello! Love your blog! Could I have a scenario request with Edward? Where he saves the reader from drowning in a ship wreckage, and his crew is nervous cause ya know, having a woman aboard was bad luck.? Thank you in advance!

Pairing: Edward Kenway x Reader

Caution(s): Swearing.

A/N: VERY LATE

If you were expecting some action or something, it’s not really my forte. I was gonna have you show yourself how good you are in battle during a ship raid but me being sick rn I had to leave it out. I have not written or typed anything in a while so I’m sorry in advance if there’s mistakes or if it’s not that well written. I haven’t had a writing mojo for a while now.

It was certainly a huge turn of events for the Jackdaw crew, and one they never expected to happen.

A ship raid, sure. But to pick up a passenger? Much less save one off the enemy’s ship? It sounded preposterous. The men were nervous about having you on board and just by the way they gawked and whispered you knew you weren’t welcome here. Each pair of eyes you see that are staring back at you make your teeth clench out of nervousness. Or maybe anger. You couldn’t really decide. You just wanted off this damn boat and on dry land, especially after the trauma you just went through.

But the captain insisted you be on this ship and taken to safety, away and off these waters.

Just where were you going exactly?

You were stuffed down in the captain’s quarters, left with nothing but your surroundings and a table of food that was left at your mercy, should you desire to take anything. At least the captain was courteous enough to let you stay in a place like this, instead of in some wooden and rotted box that was at the very bottom of the boat. He had even given you a fresh set of clothing to change into and out of your wet dress. You had the chance to peek around, and the room was quite well decorated for a pirate ship. Red carpet, blinds on the small windows, plants that hung from the ceiling in pots and on the tables. There was even a model ship on one of the surfaces that caught your interest quickly. Intriguingly designed and painted, you couldn’t help but admire it for so long that you never noticed the figure walking in through the cabin doors.

“Impressive, isn’t it?”

A squeak comes from your throat as you turn to look at the man who had brought you in here from before. He gives you an amused chuckle in response. Slowly, he inches closer to the sculpture and reaches to touch it gently, running his finger along one of the white sails.

“I’m not one for pretty paintings or statues but. . . this one caught my eye. I had to have it.”

As he fumbled with his mini ship, you take the time to check him over since you did not have the focus or enough sleep to actually notice what your savior looked like.

Tall, slender but masculine. You didn’t have to look beneath his robes to know that he had toned muscles along his arms and abdomen. His face was slender too, high cheekbones and tan golden skin; hair that was so blonde it almost looked white even in this dim lit room. His weapons adorned the rest of his outfit; a sword on one hip, a gun on the other. Knives rested in his belt that he had laced across his hips and chest, along with a few other weapons you couldn’t recognize. Your conclusion; definitely a pirate.

And a rather kind and gentle one at that. It was odd. He was nothing like the ones on the boat you were on before.

You snap out of your daze and stand tall when he turns to face you.

“What were you doing on that boat?” he asks. His accent is strong, but unfamiliar to you.

“I was to travel to Havana. Our ship ran into pirates and. . . well.” You chuckle as you sit in one of the wooden chairs near the table. It sits in the middle of the cabin.

“. . .you know what happened. I’m grateful you came along when you did, even though you were raiding the same ship that raided mine. You saved my life.”

The man chuckles again, finding his own set next to yours. He places his arm on the wooden table top and slouches in his chair, legs apart and looking very unformal. It made you chuckle quietly.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” he grins, earning one from you in return as he watches your eyes look down at the floor. He’s already quite charming, you think.

You sigh and look around again, taking in the sight of the cabin once more before looking at him again.

“And I’m very thankful you haven’t tied me up and thrown me in some dark corner either,” you say. “I wasn’t expecting a very warm welcome from your crew, or you for that matter.”

“Not all pirates are heartless killers, love,” he comments. The man then pours himself a glass of rum. Must have been a bottle nearby, because you hadn’t seen him grab it. “Not a big fan of harming women, or anyone who doesn’t deserve it anyways.”

“I don’t? I could be just as bad a pirate as the other guy.”

He shakes his head in response.

“You haven’t tried to kill me yet. So I know you’re alright.”

His words emit a chuckle from your throat as you stare at the ground, and can’t help but enjoy his witty talk.

Between all this banter you realized that your names hadn’t been shared between the two of you. Or maybe it was for the best. But you wanted to remember the name of the handsome pirate who saved you from assured death and perhaps one day repay him for what he had done for you.

“(Y/n).”

The man’s head snaps up from his bottle, startled by your sudden words. His eyebrows knot in confusion.

“Pardon?”

“My name,” you say, giving him a shy smile. “I’m (y/f/n).”

He chuckles, nodding as he kicks himself for not realizing it the first time. The man takes a stand as he offers his hand to you, and you slowly take it. You weren’t expecting a kiss to your knuckles and for a split second it rendered you breathless as it took you by surprise.

“Edward Kenway. Pleasure is mine.”

With a kind smile given to you, Edward makes his way back to the main door of the cabin and clicks his tongue. He holds out his hands, gesturing to the surroundings you are currently in.

“I hope you know,” he starts, “you’re not a prisoner here. You’re free to do as you please. I told you I was going to bring you to Havana, and I intend to do so.”

His words were kind, and not that they hadn’t been from the start. You laugh softly and stand with him, crossing your hands behind your back.

“That’s kind, Mr. Kenway. Thank you. But let’s just hope your crew doesn’t throw me over board first before I get there.”

It seems he understood your words all too well, as his gaze met the floor and his white smile showed once again in this dark room. You watch as pieces of his golden hair fall in front of his face.

“Old pirate shite. Women aren’t supposed to be on a ship,” he says, “they supposedly bring bad luck. Well . . .” Edward turns to you and gives you a grin. “. . . I assure you (y/n) I won’t let that happen. They follow my orders, and if I say to leave you alone they will. Although. . . I can’t guarantee they won’t talk.”

A scoff leaves your lips.

“Please,” you begin, “I’m sure I’ve heard worse. I can handle them.”

Your response makes Edward chuckle again.

“Confident. I like that,” he grins.

Finally opening the door, he waits for you to walk through and into the sunlight. You feel the warmth of the sun’s rays hit your legs, the heat and humidity already making your pant legs stick to your skin.

“Let’s hope you do then; it’s at least two days to Havana. And there’s plenty of time for gossip.”

Edward leads you out the door and onto the dock. You have to reel it all in for a moment as the sun temporarily blinds you for a few seconds before you adjust to it. And then you’re greeted with not only the sun and the breeze on the water, but the many eyes of the rest of the crew that stopped working to stare. Edward seemed to notice and waved them off, sending them back to work before he takes you up to the wheel. He then introduces you to Adewale, his second in command. Even he assures you that the crew is frivolous with their beliefs of child’s tales. Women being bad luck? This could be in fact, good luck. Who knows.

~~~

Despite the many stares you received, many hadn’t said word about your presence. At least in front of you.

The second day you had stayed on the Jackdaw was the day you finally had an earful. Edward stand atop at the helm with the wheel in his hand, taking in the breeze and view of the water and islands that the ship passes by. You were just in earshot, but he the captain didn’t know. And neither did the two men talking to him.

“We don’t even know who she is,” one says. “She could be a bloody spy. That whole ship raid could have been a trap. What women travels alone on a ship full of men?”

“Aye,” chimes the other. “Seems odd. She could kill us all in our sleep tonight.”

Edward can’t help but laugh at them, getting scowls in return from his two crew members. He lets one hand go of the steering wheel and sets it on his hip.

“Do you realize how ridiculous you two sound?” he says. “She’s just a passenger. The ship was on it’s way to Havana when it was attacked by another. We simply found her at the right time. And now we’re bringing her to where she was set to go in the first place. That’s it.”

“What, suddenly we’re escorts?” one spits. “How do you know she won’t turn us in as soon as we land?”

At this point Edward was getting annoyed. He had a tight relationship with his crewmates, but this moment he wanted to shove them aside and send them off and back to work. Kenway had no worries about you, no doubts. This was all stupid superstition.

Sighing heavily, Edward snaps his head in their direction, catching their attention quickly. Hands now off the wheel, he takes a step towards them.

“Listen to me,” he say sharply, “that woman has been nothing but good company to me, and I highly doubt she’s anything like you say. Get the idea out of your head that she will harm us in any way, because I can tell you she will not. If I hear you talking shit about her in her face or you confront her, you won’t hear the end of it from me.”

They both stand there for a moment, unsure of what to do or say; they dare not move or else Edward’s piercing gaze could have cut them where they stood.

“Understood?” Kenway finishes. He watches as they sigh and nod their heads, turning heel and heading down the stairs and onto the first second deck.

Hearing their footsteps scurry down the stairs, you stand there at the railing and pretend to be looking out at the water. You had heard every word, being so close to the helm, and the volume of their voices didn’t help any of keeping any secrecy between them and the captain.

You didn’t need to look at them to feel their piercing eyes gawking at you as they walked by. You turn your head just the slightest to see them finally walking down below deck, and it wasn’t long before you let out a long sigh. Just a few more hours, you think to yourself, and I’ll be home.

A hand places itself on your back gently, taking you by surprise. You hadn’t even heard Edward come up beside you until he was right beside you, and greeting you with a smile.

“Sure you heard that,” he says sheepishly. He places his hands on the railing and leans his weight against it looking down into the water. You nod your head slowly and chuckle.

“Yes. But. . .”

Edward looks at you.

“. . . it was nice to hear your words. Thank you for defending me,” you say, bowing your head a bit as a thank you. He gives you a smile in return, shifting his feet in his place.

“Don’t listen to them, (y/n).”

“I never did in the first place,” you chuckle, earning another from him. “But when I heard you talking to them I just had to listen.”

There’s a short silence after Edward gives you a curt nod.

“So. . . I’m good company then?” you say smugly. He turns to you in response, smiling cheekily.

“Aye. You are. It’s refreshing in a way, talking to you. It’s nice to sit and enjoy talking with someone about things other than gold and where our next destination is.”

He earns a bashful grin from you, watching you as you fumble with the fabric of your shirt.

“I’ll be honest with you Edward, I wasn’t expecting this much decency from pirates,” you say.

“Were you expecting to be thrown over?”

“ . . . among other things.”

He got where you were heading with your thoughts, gaping his mouth open before nodding in understanding and staring back into the water.

“You have nothing to fear from us,” he says softly. “We’ll get you home. I promise.” He then puts his hand on yours and squeezes it lightly in assurance before smiling and heading off in the other direction, back to the wheel. Leaving you there with your own smile on your face, you look out back to the water ignoring the ongoing stares and gossip around you. Hearing Edward say these things makes you feel confident in him that you will really get home.

True to his word, the next morning you’re awoken by one of the crewman’s voice hollering over the sails, waking you in an instance. Sun rays shown through the door glass and the small windows that surrounded you, giving to you that it was morning. Edward was gracious to give you his bed while he slept on the velvet couch next to you. You dress yourself and make yourself presentable before going on deck.

Almost immediately a huge smile adorns your face as you see the city; Havana. It was so close and you could see people walking along the docks. You could have swam to it if you could of.

You were home.

Turning your head in multiple directions, you look for the Jackdaw’s captain, finding him up by the helm with Adewale. Everyone was bustling about on the ship ready the lay anchor and tie the ship off the dock. You find this a perfect time to make your way up to Edward, giving Adewale a good morning before talking to the captain.

“You got me home,” you sigh happily. You give him the biggest smile as he returns one to you. “Thank you so much Edward.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he chuckles. “If you ever need an escort again I’m sure I can help you.”

“I’m not so certain your crew will enjoy that.”

“Of course not, but they don’t really have a say now do they.” He smirks at you and gives you a playful wink, watching as you laugh it off and stare at the floor board beneath you. Since your time here with him, Edward has caught notice of your bashfulness every time you stare at your feet, and it’s quite amusing.

And right now, it was charming.

“Am I allowed to visit?” he asks. “I come here quite often, believe it or not.”

You bite your lip to stop the spreading of your already existing smile, hoping it did not get any bigger to show him your excitement.

“Of course. You did save my life after all. An allowed visit is something I can offer to you in payment.”

“I usually ask for gold but, that works too.”

Grinning, Edward offers his hand to lead you down the ramp and onto the dock. That smell of fish and seaweed fill your nose again, and at this point you’re so used to it you don’t scrunch up your nose as some of the other civilians do every time they come down by the water.

“Smells like home,” you say jokingly, giving him a smile before letting your hand fall to your side. “Come with me. I’ll show you my place, should you ever stop by when you’re in the city. My door will be welcome to you.”

“That’s kind,” he smiles, beginning to walk after you as you trail off down the street. “Have you always lived here?”

You nod your head as you put your hands behind your back.

“Started working with my mother in her shop when I was 10, and I’ve kept it running ever since. For her in her memory. I’ve never known any other kind of life.”

“Being a pirate doesn’t interest you?” Edward chuckles as he jokes. He smiles upon hearing your own laughter.

“I don’t think I’d fit that position very well,” you say, peering at the path in front of you. “I’d most likely die within the first few hours on your ship.”

A short laugh follows after your response, but it dies down once Edward realizes the two of you have made it to your destination.

It was a rather cute shop, decorated with flowers and plants at the door as if it were a walkway leading you inside. Large and opened windows served as your light to let you see when you step inside, at least until dark fell, then you would light the candles that sat inside the hanging lamps all over the store and outside. Edward could have sworn this sight before him was out of a fantasy book; it looked surreal to him. Peaceful even.

“You live here?” he asks, walking behind you as you go through the glass door.

“I work here,” you reply, “but I live here.”

You open a wooden door leading to another part of the building. It’s dimly lit with candles on the fire mantle, on the window sill and on some of the tables around the room.

“Imelda always takes care of the place while I’m gone,” you say, referring to your assistant. She would come in every other day to help you in your shop, even tend to your home while you were away.

Edward immediately felt comfort when he stepped into your actual home. It felt so different here than it did in the streets, than in the taverns and rooms he rents in the city. It was warm, cozy, heartfelt, relaxing. Smells of spices filled his nose as the two of you pass through the house to the living room.

Eventually you come to the merge of your living room and kitchen, digging through a nightstand while Edward looks around the place, aweing at everything like a child. It wasn’t until you said something that he turned his attention to you. He sees a bag of gold in your hands.

“For you,” you say.

“I thought you said a visit to your home was payment?” The pirate responds. He puts his hands on his hips while his face is smiling smugly. You chuckle in response.

“A pirate refusing free gold? Well, if you’re certain. . .” you say, beginning to slowly take the bag back.

“Ah-” Edwards retorts, reaching for it. “Perhaps just a little?”

Of course, you think. You let out a warm laugh that echoes in your chest, as well as Edward’s. He watches as you tilt the leather pouch above your hand, eyeing the gold that trickles out of it like water and into your palm. It shines from the candles around you two.

“Here you are, Mr. Kenway.”

The gold is placed into his hands, fingers brushing over his briefly as he grips the coins into his palms. Edward’s fingertips tingle at your touch, and his blue eyes look into yours for a brief second, enough to see your smile aimed at him. He nods his head, giving you a small grin himself.

“Thanks lass,” he chimes, putting the coins in his own leather pouch that was strung by his belt. “Pleasure was mine. I hope I see you again.”

“I’m here most days,” you say gesturing to the room surrounding you two. You try to ignore the burning in your cheeks at his words. “You’re welcome any time.”

Without warning Edward takes your hand and places a kiss on your knuckles. The sun rays through the windows were warm on your skin, but at that moment you couldn’t tell if it was that or if it was from the shivers that went up your neck as he kissed you tenderly. Edward’s eyes never lost contact with yours, nor did his grin fade.

Nodding shyly, you watch as he back away and treads to the place you both once came through before, gently shutting the door behind him. You can’t help but chuckle as you watch Edward give you a quick wink before he disappears behind the door.

The short company was quite nice while it lasted, but you knew his adventurous ways would need him elsewhere, or lead him into the unknown. It sounded rather exciting, and at the same time frightening.

You go to one of the windows and watch Edward head back for the docks, sighing heavily as he disappears into the crowd like a sparrow perching in a pine tree. He was gone.

And who knows when you would see him again. You wouldn’t lie if a part of you wanted to get back on that ship with him.

Your home would always be open to him, as well as your heart.

#was that enough fluff?#I don't write for Edward a lot #big rip #I love him tho #Edward kenway #Edward kenway x reader #ac #assassins creed #assassins creed x reader #ac4 #acbf #assassins creed black flag #assassin x reader

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mirkwoodshewolf · 5 years ago

Text

Aladdin Queen fic John Deacon x reader chap. 6; Princess Ali meets Prince John

*Author’s note*

Okay this was probably my most FAV. part to write (next to the magic carpet/a whole new world part that’s coming in the next couple of chapters) cause we get to what helped me win Will over as the Genie. So I hope you all watch the video I have linked below to really set the mood for this chapter. And unfortunately this is where I stop for now until I get the next chapter done (which I hope is soon). Thank you all soooo much for being incredibly patient with these updates for this series and I hope you all enjoy the binge reading that I gave you all ;)

Taglist:

@psychosupernatural

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@ixchel-9275

@simonedk

@geek-and-proud

@queendeakyy

@georgesgentlyweepingguitar

__________________________________________________________

Play video

Back in the village as usual the day went on as normal, however things started happening. Pyramids of spices began to crumble down, brass and metals began rattling together in a single beat. From the palace that the three kings plus Paul were sitting around having their tea, their cups and fine china began to rattle.

In the Princes’ bedchambers, John and Brian looked up confused from their maps at the distant rumbling while Roger was woken up from his nap due to the thunderous rumbles.

“What the bloody hell is going on?” Roger groaned.

From the village, the palace guards were running through the village entrance telling people to clear out of the way. They gathered on each side of the path because soon appearing was an ensemble of horsemen riding on white stallions.

Behind them an entire ensemble of drummers came out lowly chanting, then the horn players came out and played a fanfare as female dancers dressed like peacocks came out expanding the wings on their dresses and fanning them like real wings. It was then an ensemble of guards came marching out as they began to sing.

*Men ensemble*

Make way for Princess Ali *Female ensemble*

Say hey! It's Princess Ali

Freddie soon stood on a flower based float wearing a sparkling blue outfit that matched his genie color with a purple over coat with golden embedding designs and seams. He sung out to the crowd trying to get them hyped up for the arrival of a special guest that has come to grace them.

*Freddie*

Hey! Clear the way in the old bazaar Hey you! Let us through!

It's a brand new star! Oh come, be the first on your block

To meet her eye!

Make way! Here she comes! Ring bells! Bang the drums! You're gonna love this doll!

Princess Ali! Fabulous she!

Ali Ababwa Show some respect,

Darlings don’t be crude!

Down on one knee Now, try your best to stay calm Brush up your Friday salaam Then come and meet her spectacular coterie

The float evaporated just leaving the dancer but soon coming through the archway entrance to the village, Abu as the elephant came pulling in a camel shaped float which carried in her beautiful garb (y/n) in her disguise as Princess Ali.

Freddie continued to sing up a story that Princess Ali was more than just a woman filled with gifts and looks, she was also a warrior who took on armies of men and took them all down just by herself.

*Freddie*

Princess Ali, mighty is she

Ali Ababwa Strong as ten regular men, definitely! She faced the galloping hordes A hundred bad guys with swords Who sent those goons to their lords?

Why, Princess Ali

Darlings what’s she got?

*Men ensemble*

Seventy-five golden camels

*Freddie*

Woo! Uh-huh Now the ladies, talk to me dears

*Female ensemble*

Purple peacocks, she's got fifty-three *Freddie (spoken)*

(Fabulous darlings, love the feathers)

When it comes to exotic-type mammals Darlings help me out! *Ensemble*

(She's got a zoo, I'm telling you) It's a world-class menagerie

Now dressed in drag, Freddie was dancing with a bunch of female dancers along the balcony. Singing about how Princess Ali’s beauty has been known to even turn some girls into loving her.

Like she was a siren of the sea but with a pure heart of gold. The ensemble continued to march and dance along singing of her greatest possessions and kindness. (Y/n) tossed down some gold to the crowd who immediately went right at it.

Until finally they reached just a few feet from the palace gates, where the royal families and court all stood along the balcony observing the entire show.

*Freddie*

Princess Ali! Beauty is she, Ali Ababwa That physique! How can I not,

Turn for her, that lovely darling! So get on out in that square Adjust your veil and prepare To gawk and grovel and stare at Princess Ali

*Ensemble*

She got 95 white Persian monkeys,

*Freddie*

She’s got the monkeys

A bunch of monkeys *Freddie and (Ensemble)*

(And to view them she charges no fee) (She's generous, so generous) (She's got ten thousand servants and flunkies) (Proud to work for her!) (They bow to her whim love serving her) (They're just lousy with loyalty to Ali!

Princess Ali!

Princess—

“We're waiting for you!” Freddie pointed towards the three Kings who looked at the flamboyant young man with interest but pride that he was asking for permission to continue on. “We're not going until you go!” John’s father slowly raised his hand off the railing.

His friends and everyone in the court looked towards him waiting with anticipation.

“You can do it my darling!”

And with that John’s father gently patted the railing. Accepting their entrance.

“There it is!” Freddie exclaimed as he winked up at John’s father. They continued with their song and dance. At hearing his name, John was both embarrassed and annoyed with this and just had about enough as he walked away back towards his room, leaving Brian and Roger to look at each other.

*All*

Princess Ali, amorous she!

Ali Ababwa *Freddie (ensemble)*

Heard of a hot Prince John Deacon!

Where is he? And that, my dears, is why She got all dolled and dropped by With (sixty elephants, llamas galore) For real dears? (With her bears and lions, a brass band and more) Say what? (With her forty fakirs, her cooks, her bakers) (Her birds that warble on key) *All*

Make way

For Princess Ali!

By the end of it all, confetti shot out from everywhere as the entire village cheered. Freddie looked up at his master grinning widely at her and she smiled down at her genie, mouthing out a thank you to him.

*My POV*

Freddie and I now stood in the throne room. The only people who were in the throne room were some of the guards as well someone who looked vaguely familiar but yet not at the same time.

He had short brown hair and a mustache over his upper lip. His cold eyes stared me down as he carried a snake staff and had a parrot sitting on his shoulder. He looked like he was of high authority but not quite a king or prince. But whatever he was, he definitely gave me an uneasy feeling.

Especially since he also couldn’t stop staring at Freddie.

“Where are they?” I whispered.

“Relax darling.” Whispered Freddie back to me. It was then I saw the three kings walk in with each of their sons by their side. “Okay here they come.” I extended my small cane to them and Freddie whispered. “What are you doing?”

“I—I’m presenting to them.”

“Put your arms down.”

“But I’m presenting—”

“I said put your arms down girl!” he softly hissed.

“We welcome you to our humble home gifted to us by your people Princess Ali.” King Arthur spoke to me.

“Tell him it’s a pleasure to meet them.” Freddie advised me.

“It’s—just as much….a pleasure to—meet such regal men such as yourselves.” I said as I tried my best to curtsy, but I kept wobbling.

“You’re crossing your legs like you’re trying to take a piss. Bend your knees outward, not forward.” He said. I wobbled until I stood up properly back up.

“I’m afraid I’ve never heard of Ababwa.” The mustached man said. Oh shit. Freddie and I looked at each other before we both spoke at the same time.

“It’s North.”

“It’s South.” Oh great, now we’ve done it, quickly think of something (y/n). “It—has both a North…..and a South kingdom.”

“Yeah see if you just keep traveling you’ll—you’ll find it.” Freddie said.

“It’s there, you just have to look for it.” I snapped at him but tried to be discreate about it.

“The world is changing Paul,” Brian’s father spoke up which caused Paul to nod submissively. “Seems there’s a new country every day.” He joked towards his son.

“May I present to you in person, my son Prince John Deacon.” When I saw John, my heart raced once again. I could barely speak and I just seemed to be in a daze.

Finally seeing him like this in his full regal appearance, that was just a bonus. All I could focus on was his beautiful eyes. It felt like the world was fading away, that was until I felt a nudge into my ribs from Freddie as he whispered to me.

“Tell him we have gifts.”

“Gifts!” I exclaimed which echoed through the walls. “I mean….we’ve brought gifts.” Freddie then exclaimed in Arabic and the doors opened and all the servants he had whipped up for me came in carrying everything known to man. “Yes, here we are with gifts. We have spices, golden camels, and spoons tiny spoons. I mean how do they make them that small?”

“Spoons.” A servant that stood by John trying to encourage my spoon gift. He seemed more kinder than Paul, with warm eyes and a kind soul.

“How do they make them that tiny? We have jams!” I exclaimed.

“Jams?” Paul asked skeptically.

“Jams?” his parrot mimics.

“Yes jams. Yam jams, fig jams, and date jams, spicy….delicious, exotic jams.”

“Move. Away. From the jams.” Freddie sneered through his smile.

“We—we also have uhh….”

“Jewels.”

“We have jewels. We have plenty of those. And uhh, and that! Over there. Covered for…..suspense.” I gestured to a cloth hiding something pretty huge. I heard Freddie exhale like he was just done with me.

I cleared my throat for the servants to pull back the cloth revealing some strange wheel or something. I don’t even know what it was but I tried to play it off like I did know.

“Ta-da. It’s uhh…..very expensive and very priceless.” John looked to Roger and Brian who were equally as confused, as was their servant that stood beside them.

“And just what do you hope to buy with this expensive—thing?” asked John as he turned and looked right at me.

“You.” I said.

Allah I wish I could’ve kicked myself at that point. Why must I be so nervous at this point. Everyone was in shock of what I had just said. I treated John like he was a prized chicken at the marketplace. His brows raised up skeptically almost like he didn’t hear me right.

“Wow.” Freddie muttered softly.

“I-I mean a moment with you!” I tried to save myself. Freddie mimicked the silent sounds of an explosion as I tried to stammer out a better explanation when John spoke again.

“Are you suggesting that I am for sale?”

“Of course.” Damnit there I go again. At this point John looked like he was about to raise hell. “Not! No of course not! I-I-I was trying to say……”

“It’s cold. And-and it’s dark in that lamp. But I prefer that to this right now.” Freddie whispered to me.

“Excuse me. I need to go……find some bread.” John said abruptly before turning around and walked away.

“For the jams.” Prince Brian spoke up as he followed behind John.

“Wait, wait I didn’t mean to…..”

“I get that John can make people nervous but maybe next time think before you speak.” Roger said as he looked at me with sympathy before following behind his friends along with the mustached servant.

“Please I didn’t—”

“Just drop it darling, you didn’t do good.” Freddie muttered to me.

“You will get another chance to speak with my son Princess Ali. When you join us for the annual Harvest our Indian allies hold tonight.” John’s father said. As the three kings walked away I said as I awkwardly bowed once more.

“Of course you’re—serene….selves.” But I could see all three of them shake their heads shamefully and embarrassedly then Paul along with the parrot on his shoulder turned and followed behind the three kings.

“Smooth.” I heard the parrot mock me. As we were now along in the throne room, Freddie turned to me and said.

“In 10,000 years. I have never been that embarrassed.”

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thecorteztwins · 5 years ago

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what are some under used marvel female characters youd love to see in the rpc?

HMMMOkay, so I’m trying to think OBJECTIVELY here and not just rattle off the female characters that I personally like, and more “I’m surprised that there’s not more blogs for this character, whether or not I personally am a fan” ....because I missed the “you’d love to see in the RPC” bit because I’m dumb, and then I wrote this whole list without regards for that part. So this came out as less “female characters I personally want” (who would all be stupidly obscure and irrelevant anyway) and more “female characters I think the RPC should give some more love to, whether I personally am into them or not”:Definitely ALL the girls in the New Mutants and Generation X! I see a fair few blogs for Magik and Jubilee, but I really don’t see any for the others. I get why Magik is going to be more popular---she’s in more stuff, she’s currently much more relevant in the comics, and her backstory is so goddamn compelling---but that doesn’t mean the others shouldn’t have ANY blogs out there. Wolfsbane, Magma, Karma, and Moonstar are all extremely complex and compelling characters with their own struggles and triumphs too, and I think they deserve just as much love. Likewise, I get why Jubilee will naturally get more blogs than Husk, Monet, and Penance (depending if you count Penny as a separate character or not...) due to her being in more stuff, having bigger arcs, etc. But it still surprises there’s NO blogs around for those ladies! I know there was that Monet blog awhile ago, and @badmusesdoitwell had an Amara that’s now part of their multimuse, as well as a Rahne, but that’s still nowhere near enough love in the RPC for these Junior X-Ladies, in my opinion. Speaking of Generation X, I’m also a bit surprised no one has picked Cordelia Frost up, given that we’ve got plenty of background canon for her via Emma’s history yet Cordelia herself has LOTS of room to go nuts with headcanons, like it’s just the perfect opportunity! And I’m sure lots of Emma blogs, of which there are MANY, would love their little sister around for some family threads. Fuck, I would pick her up myself if I were more into Emma and the Frost family as a whole. She’s hardly the most relevant, recent, or even interesting character around, she’s done very little and shown up very briefly, but the fact she’s related to Emma Frost makes me think SOMEONE would have an interest in her.Madelyne Pryor, for sure. Like, I love Maddy, but it’s not just my favoritism talking here. I think she’s pretty decently well-known in the comics fandom, and she’s a tragic villain, which usually pulls people in big-time. She’s got a grudge against the good guys, and it’s actually more legitimate than most, which I’d think would also attract people, since a lot of villains fans like to blame the good guys no matter what and THEY’D ACTUALLY HAVE A GOOD ARGUMENT HERE? Plus she has very strong connections to other, more popular canons, with a ton of fodder for angst and drama threads, which people just LOVE. I have seen a few Maddy blogs pop up in the past, and I always get so excited, but they never seem to last very long :CDr. Moira MacTaggert deserves ALL the love and respect in the world/fandom! She’s been a staunch supporter of mutants since day one, she’s a total badass, she’s super smart, she calls Xavier out on his shit ALL THE TIME, she’s the survivor of an abusive husband, she had to make terrible choices about her son that no mother should ever have to and then live with the consequences of those choices, and SHE GOES AFTER A KELPIE WITH A GODDAMN MACHINE GUN! She’s been a part of the X-Men comics for such a long time, and is very significant in them, it really surprises me that I’ve never seen a blog for her besides just ONE and it was for the XMCU sexy American CIA agent Moira, who is NOT Moira in my book and NEVER WILL BE. Speaking of, Moira will ALWAYS be human to me, I think making her a mutant all along REALLY undermines a big part of her character as just an unyielding mutant ally. Though I think her being human, combined with being an older female who isn’t anyone’s love interest (unless she’s, gasp, getting in the way of CHERIK aka the ultimate fandom sin how dare she the harlot -.-), is probably WHY she’s so damn ignored -.-Frenzy hasn’t been in THE most recent stuff, but she’s still been relevant recent enough that I think one or two blogs around would have happened if she weren’t black. Yeah, I hate to be THIS person, but any black character who isn’t Storm doesn’t get love, for all that the RPC likes to yell about being diverse and progressive. Remember all the Captain America and Iron Man and Hulk and Quicksilver blogs that popped up after their movies? Yeah I saw like ONE T’challa blog after Black Panther came out. Then again, I’ve yet to see blogs for Pixie or Firestar either, who are white, and I feel like they both were fairly interesting and well-known in fandom? Same for the Academy X girls like Sofia Mantega, Mercury, and Wallflower. Luna Maximoff FOR SURE. It SHOCKS me I haven’t see more than a couple short-lived blogs around for her, just given her family connections. Now, I don’t think a character deserves love just because of who they’re related to---in fact it annoys me when a characters gets a ton of attention and it’s very obviously just for that---but Luna has SO MUCH going on? The problems between her parents, her mother being absent so much, her father exposing her to the Mists, dealing with her powers, being a child of two very different worlds and cultures, it just goes on and on. Luna has had to grow up so fast, she’s such a strange and stoic child as a result, and though her situation is very fantastical, having to be the mature one at an early age because all the adults in your life won’t be is something a lot of people have to cope with and I think would find relatable; I especially love how she lives in this world where there’s no bad guys, like neither Crystal nor Pietro were the villains in her situation, just hurting messed up people, which she also recognized in Magneto and maybe also even Maximus . And there’s so much that could be explored with her too that hasn’t been in canon yet---for instance, her choice to identify with her Inhuman heritage and why that is, and the journey of identifying with your heritage but also looking at the horrible things in their history, I think that’s a story that a LOT of people from MANY backgrounds can relate to. It surprises and frustrates me that both writers and fandom don’t really seem to care about her or remember she exists; one the only two blogs I ever saw for her seriously got someone asking them “why would you make such a weird OC” like SERIOUSLY! Luna needs more love, big time. Any female Avenger that’s not Wanda or Natasha. I don’t read Avengers, I’m just an X-Men fan, but I know they exist and they shouldn’t have to be in a movie to get love. Ditto for She-Hulk, I’m not a Hulk reader but I know she’s a prominent character who has been around a long time and has a very developed personality and stories of her own, yet I’ve only ever seen her on @getreadytosmash‘s multi. I’ve also never really read Alpha Flight, but its main ladies ---Snowbird, Aurora, Vindicator---all seem awesome in their own different ways. Alpha Flight isn’t very popular to begin with, of course, so I don’t expect them to have as many blogs as, say, major X-ladies, but I think one apiece or so would be very justified.KWANNON!! I actually get why we didn’t have any blogs for her BEFORE now, because we knew NOTHING about her, she was just a very tragic prop for Betsty’s body-swap plot and a way to give her insta-ninja-skills, but now she’s come back and has HER OWN NEW SERIES in which we’re finally learning who she is and her background, I hope to see a blog or two around for her eventually!Destiny aka Irene Adler. Like. Do I even need to explain WHY? I think people just don’t want to play an OLD woman, especially one whose primary/only ship is going to be with another woman.Maaaaybe Clea Strange? I don’t know shit about her, never read Dr. Strange, but like, people make blogs for Sigyn literally just because she’s Loki’s wife, and Clea at least seems to like...DO stuff? IDK, not sure on this on, but figured I’d make an honorable mention.Siryn, Boom Boom, and Dr. Cecilia Reyes are all X-Ladies that I really don’t know much about. Like I know basic things like their powers but I don’t know their story arcs and such. But as with Clea and the Avengers ladies and She-Hulk, I just have a HUNCH there’s a lot there getting ignored by fans.Silhouette Chord is a longtime member of The New Warriors, and, like Alpha Flight, New Warriors doesn’t really have a fanbase on Tumblr to speak of, so it’s not surprising to me she’s not got any love here. And even within the pages of her own comics, she’s generally pushed aside, underused, and underdeveloped compared to the other characters, generally more a prop for her boyfriend’s stories than anything else. But she DOES have a personality, a REALLY cool backstory, and she’s like...look, the RPC claims to love diversity and representation and all that, right? Silhouette is a mixed-race WOC (half Black, half Cambodian, and I have NEVER seen another Marvel character of Cambodian heritage who wasn’t connected to her) who is also very visibly physically disabled, her legs are completely paralyzed and she is never without her braces/crutches, yet she still fights PHYSICALLY (something very rare for physically disabled characters, they usually are more like Oracle or Prof X) and is depicted in a sexual relationship, and there’s never any kind of fuss or angst about it or anything treating her as delicate or less than or anything like that. She’s just completely adjusted to it in a way that’s very rare in media. And like I said, she’s not a flat character, I’m not saying she should be more popular just for ticking off the diversity boxes, she manages to be really intriguing to me despite how little focus the writers give her, and I think that she and the other New Warrior girls (Firestar and Namorita) have a lot to offer the RPC. But I have to give a special shoutout to Sil since she’s my fave, as the neglected ones alway are.Meggan Puceanu is probably most familiar to folks here as Kurt’s love interest in Age of X, but she’s been around since the 80s. She’s a longtime member of Excalibur, and she’s just...fascinating. She’s a Romanichal mutant (though often hinted to have magical/mystical heritage too, perhaps fairy like Pixie) who has empathic, elemental, and shapeshifting capabilities. However, her empathic and shapeshifting tend to overlap, so she changes her form (and her mind) according to the feelings, fears, and desires of others. So for instance, there’s this one time where a group of men are checking her out, and she feels that “They love me...I want...to love them in return!” and she morphs into this sexxed-up version of hersef on the spot. This isn’t played for kinkiness or laughs either; Meggan’s identity struggles are a HUGE part of her character. She has no idea who she is because her powers make her reflect and respond to the feelings of others around her, internally and externally. She doesn’t even know what she actually really LOOKS like because of this; her powers were present since birth, causing her to grow fur instantly as an infant due to it being winter. This caused her parents to keep her locked up in the camper trailer, where she was raised alone with the TV (she’s also illiterate, which causes her to feel dumb a lot) and as more and more people around her spread rumors about the monstrous child inside, she psychically absorbed those beliefs and her physical form changed to reflect them, making her more and more monstrous as she got older. She didn’t know she was a shapeshifter, she just really thought she was a hideous monster. And even when she found out the truth, she STILL didn’t know what she really looked like, as the beautiful form she took on (basically Pamela Anderson with elf ears) was to please her boyfriend Captain Britain (whom she is really unhealthily dependent on starting out because of her situation)Meggan is insecure, she doesn’t know who she is, she has to cling to a man in order to have anything because no one else has ever loved her, she easily becomes jealous of other women near him, she gets made fun of for being a bimbo and she often feels she is because she can’t read or understand “clever words” due to her isolated upbringing...and she gets through this! She develops! She becomes STRONGER and she becomes SECURE and she gains CONTROL of her powers and SHE KICKS ASS and she FORMS AN IDENTITY! And then Meggan SACRIFICED HER LIFE to buy time for Captain Britain, Psylocke, and Rachel Summers to repair the tear in reality caused by House of M. She ends up lost between dimensions and TRAPPED IN HELL, where she uses her empathy to rally the lesser demons against THE LORDS OF HELL ITSELF and wages a war IN HELL for which her demon followers dub her “Gloriana” and she forms a sanctuary there called “Elysium” where souls can escape torment! AND THEN SHE FINDS HER WAY HOME!THIS WOMAN KICKED ASS IN HELL AND WON!! Like she just goes through SUCH an arc, and I admit I have not read it myself yet, she’s on my list of characters to read EVERYTHING on and I’m still only familiar with her very insecure Excalibur days (which I love a lot, I just feel so much for Meggan and her struggles, I think she’s very much a reflection of a LOT of real-world issues, ranging from mental illnesses to just EXISTING as a woman) but I already have a ton of feelings about her and I think she’s more than prominent and accomplished enough to merit more attention in the RPC. And this is less of an “actually has reasons the RPC should love her” character, because really there’s no reason they should, she’s not prominent or relevant or or anything, but more an interesting “did you know”---did you know there was a “young female Wolverine clone” in the comics BEFORE Laura Kinney? Avery Connor! She pre-dates Laura by a year and has a VERY similar story, yet she never took off in popularity and very few people know her. You can read about her HERE on my Marvel blog. Again, would not say there’s actually any reason she’s earned love from the RPC like, say, Meggan or Luna, but I just thought I’d toss that in as a tidbit for the Logan family fans, as I know there are many.(Also, cheating because these are dudes, but: I’m not a Banshee fan but I am surprised I’ve never seen a blog for him, nor for Sunfire. Or for 616 Pyro. Or...)

#marvel #marvel rpc #xmen #x men #out of cortez #shattered-catalyst

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heoneyology · 6 years ago

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Hearts on the Line: Ch.7

A/N: This is late and I apologize but I haven’t written action in quite a while so I felt sloppy as I worked through this. Anyway here, have some shit hitting the fan.

Pairing: Wooyoung x Reader

Genre: action, angst, romance, outlaw!au

Word Count: 4228

Summary: You’ve got a debt to pay, and Wooyoung has an agenda of his own. But for your help with just one last scheme, Wooyoung is willing to allow your debt to drop off—unknown to him, though, you also have your own agenda, and a loyalty to an unspoken Other. With hearts on the line, you each will end up having to make a decision that may risk what you both thought was simply just a game.

Seonghwa’s warning not to do anything stupid rings clear as a bell at the forefront of Wooyoung’s mind. Even for Wooyoung, this felt stupid.

Behind the group, he wanders at a bit of a slower pace, watching carefully as Rosette walks with Jongho. Her arm is linked through his, a bright smile on her face as they laugh over something. The two of them had always been fairly close, Jongho’s easy-going personality an immediate click with anyone he came across. Where Wooyoung was able to charm his way into and out of any person’s heart—Jongho just had a natural likability about him.

“What are we doing this again for?” He hears Jongho ask.

“Is it so hard to believe I just want to spend some time with you guys?” Rosette replies with a smile, she glances over her shoulder at that time, making eye contact with Wooyoung. “Someone has been driving me insane.”

Wooyoung smiles, as charming as ever, though stays quiet.

“Easy to believe,” Jongho chuckles, following Rosette’s lead toward the saloon.

She turns away in time, missing the way Wooyoung’s smile falls from his face, lips melding into a hard line as he studies her with narrowing eyes. Something’s off. It didn’t take an idiot to figure it out. Rosette wasn’t the easiest person to read, but he’d surely spent enough time in her presence to pick up on certain mannerisms. Her laughter felt strange, as though it wasn’t quite sincere. Not forced, though. But maybe anxious? The way she fixated Jongho with her attention struck a chord of annoyance within Wooyoung, a feeling that he felt unfamiliar with.

He wasn’t jealous, that wasn’t possible. But Rosette had always been at his side. His responsibility since she’d joined the group. While she got along with everyone equally well, Wooyoung ensured she was always next to him. Except for now, and for some odd reason it was rubbing him the wrong way.

“Wooyoung.” Yeosang’s curt voice forces Wooyoung back to reality.

Before the other two turn to face him, wondering why he’s lagging back, he instantly shifts his expression with such ease that someone would have thought they’d simply been imagining the dark look that had fallen across his features. Yeosang’s piercing blue gaze studies him, not missing a single thing.

But by the time Jongho and Rosette turn, curiosity on their features, Wooyoung is grinning and skipping ahead, passing up Yeosang. “C’mon, c’mon! Let’s stop lagging, we’re here to drink and have a grand time, right?” He pushes himself between Jongho and Rosette, throwing his arms over either of their shoulders and pressing forward.

As he moves with the group, he glances over his shoulder at Yeosang. That icy blue gaze follows him.

Hongjoong had an intimidating gaze, piercing in its own right, one that noted every minor detail. He was the leader, though, and power emanated from just his presence and the way he held himself. But that power and confidence was easily read in his eyes. Seonghwa’s gaze was intimidating because he was constantly calculating, watching people and discerning their motives. A misstep around Seonghwa meant he’d discover something that you probably didn’t want anyone to know.

Yeosang, though—Yeosang’s gaze was so intense that it pierced straight through your soul with a needle-like dagger. Where Seonghwa watched, and knew things. Yeosang just knew things, and that was frightening of its own.

Wooyoung raises his brows, giving a small shrug toward the other. Whatever Yeosang thought he knew—he was probably right. But they had to just go with the flow, for now, and Wooyoung didn’t have the time to stray from his own goals. Seonghwa had given him a time limit, and Rosette had assured him after tonight they’d be able to take action. Whatever she wanted to do, he was willing to play along.

For now, at least.

The saloon is bustling when they enter. Though there’s still plenty of time before sunset, many of the patrons are already long lost in their drunkenness. The clamor of the room is a mix of rowdy laughter, music, yelling, and plenty of drinking. As they pass tables, smoke drifts into Wooyoung’s face and he wrinkles his nose. He pushes them through the crowd, sure Yeosang is trailing behind somewhere, before seating everyone at an empty table.

“Drinks, for everyone!” Wooyoung practically shoves Jongho and Rosette into seats at the table, throwing his hands into the air and waving for a waitress.

“Wooyoung—” Yeosang warns.

“Just a drink, maybe two, isn’t going to hurt anyone around here,” Wooyoung chides, effectively ignoring the warning.

But almost two hours later, the group is lost in drinks...

You’d had one, just to appease Wooyung and his persistence at celebrating. What he wanted to celebrate for, you couldn’t determine. You’d yet to see Monica so far, and so nothing on that end had drawn to a close. With each passing moment, you came closer to the start of Jean’s fire show; a fact that was making you nervous. You’d agreed to this long ago, and were just as determined to see things through—but you also found yourself needing to put things at a close before that time came.

You couldn’t understand why, though.

The buzz from the cheap beer was noticeable but not affecting you in any particular way, thank the stars above. You watched the crowds of people around you, carefully pushing away and denying any more alcohol that came toward you. It seemed as though the beer and whiskey was being passed around freely, at that point. Things were starting to gear up to reaching the peak of the night activities.

Of everyone, Jongho was probably the furthest along, closest to being the most drunk. He had started off fairly tame. He’d shared a few dances with you, to which Wooyoung had interrupted each time with a look you’d never seen across his face before, only for Jongho to come back with a newfound determination to finish a dance. He’d told quite a few jokes to a crowd willing enough to listen, before the crowd had grown. Everyone was clustered around a new table as he stood atop it, handing him fruits to pull apart with his bare hands. With each fruit that came his way, he complied and effortlessly split it. The crowd was becoming restless in their attempts to find a fruit he couldn’t split, but provisions were scarce in the desert town.

Wooyoung and Yeosang were tied for being the next closest to drunk. For all his warnings, Yeosang seemed as though he were the closest to being so. Wooyoung was simply able to hold his alcohol quite well, and so you couldn’t be certain how far gone he was. Yeosang, however, was still as quiet and observant as ever, and as well-behaved as he always was. The only reason you knew how much he’d had was because of the powerful confidence that overtook him whenever he drank. His tongue became as sharp as his gaze, wielding his words in rebuff to the cowboys’ and their ridiculous attempts at witty remarks and challenges.

The two of them were tucked away in a corner playing poker with a small table of men and onlookers—Yeosang probably using his sharp tongue to anger and distract the drunkards they faced while Wooyoung used his wiles to cheat them all out of their money, if either were coherent enough to stay on top of things.

Some time passes before a red bob of hair catches your attention, moving through the crowded saloon. The audacity… you can’t help but think, immediately recognizing Monica as she slithers through men—but not towards you. No, it’s towards Wooyoung. Scowling, you immediately jump to your feet and beeline towards her.

Something feral flares up within you as you rush towards her, protective and angry she’d try such a stunt. But, then, why should you be surprised by her actions? It was completely in her personality to sneak around the back like this. She’d made it bluntly clear, an abundance of times, how she felt about you. She can’t see Wooyoung. Can’t interact with him. Seonghwa’s warnings and the little loss with his grip on reality you’d witnessed from him before are enough to push you through the crowd with a fervor, shoving through the molasses of drunken townsfolk and cowboys. He can’t see her, either.

A part of you wonders if you’ll get to her fast enough. But then, you’re there.

“No!” You warn, with something akin to a hiss, as you reach out and snatch her arm. With more force than you mean to, you pull and spin her around to face you.

Monica reacts instantly, sneering and jerking her arm out of your grasp. You assume she figures you’re one of the drunken patrons, attempting to make moves, as she lifts her hand as though to make to hit you. Fully expecting to be slapped again, you tense and brace yourself—but it doesn’t come, realization dawning across her features.

“What?” She snaps, annoyed. You’re grateful that, at the very least, she lowers her hand and doesn’t actually hit you this time.

“What do you mean ‘what’?” You retort with your own sneer. “Where do you think you’re going? You’re also late, in case you hadn’t noticed!”

“Since when do I answer to you?”

With a complete disregard for you, she turns back in the direction of the poker table as she speaks. But you won’t allow it—don’t allow it. You move to intercept her, blocking her path to Wooyoung. She pulls up short as you do so, pursing her lips. A hot anger flashes through her green eyes, but you refuse to let it intimidate you. You’re tired of having to fake being pushed around by her.

“You don’t. But I hate people who go back on their word. Last I checked, I gave you that ring as a down payment.”

Monica’s lips curled into a mocking smile. “You don’t think I didn’t know the ring was cheap? Maybe even a fake?”

“You didn’t ask for something with monetary value.” You smile yourself, imitating the tone of voice she’d been using. “You think we had time to get a flashy ring? Let alone the resources to do so, without risking getting caught? I’m hanging out in the midst of a group of outlaws. Think again, Monica.”

She glares at you, icy daggers. But you’d already decided it was enough—that you’d had enough. You straighten under her gaze, holding yourself just a little bit higher. You weren’t going to give in to her violent mood swings any longer. The feeling of whiplash from Wooyoung constantly switching his own mood was bad enough for you, and enough to deal with on its own.

“Those outlaws are bad company to keep,” she’s bristling as she speaks again, unable to hide her anger from her voice or her body language any longer. “You and him both should get away from them.”

You frown. “Are you the reason the wanted signs appeared around town, so suddenly?”

Monica snorts. “No, though I wish it were me. This town doesn’t care enough about who’s wanted and who isn’t. Someone else must have it out for them.”

Jean? You wonder briefly, because a part of you knows that Monica is right. Although camp was still set up about a fifteen minute ride outside of Sundown, the town was popular for outlaws and wanted men passing through. It was small enough, and out of the way enough from bigger towns and cities, that no one really paid much mind to their visitors. So long as everyone behaved and no serious trouble was started, then the place remained peaceful, and townies kept to themselves. The army men who passed through and the sheriff were all rock-dumb, anyway.

Hongjoong preferred to frequent Sundown when they were close enough, to gather provisions and regain strength as needed. Staying out of the way of it was simply a safety factor—better safe than sorry, or dead. Maybe the wanted signs being posted up meant nothing. They’d been here before, and never had anything happen.

You aren’t able to dwell again much further on the uncanny appearance of the updated bulletins around town. Monica flipping her hair over her shoulder with an annoyed huff regains your attention.

“Fine, whatever,” she turns away from you, beginning to move in the opposite direction from the poker table. Before she gets too far, she calls over her shoulder, “Let’s speed this along, then. I have work to do.”

You promptly follow her through the crowd, aware that the further you move through the saloon the further back into the building you go—towards the private rooms. You frown, wrinkling your nose as the acrid scent of bodies mixed with booze floods your senses through closed curtains and doors. It becomes more overpowering as the main room slims down to a hallway.

Monica pauses in front of a door, knocking a couple times and waiting for some sort of signal. Or, maybe, she was waiting to ensure no patrons were inside. When there’s no answer, she opens the door and steps inside. You follow her into the room, taking a moment to look around at the minimal bearings. Much to your irritation, there’s no one waiting in the room like you had hoped. Maybe it was wishful thinking to believe Monica would lead you straight to whoever she was working for. Yesterday, she’d only said she’d supply you with a name.

Aware of the door clicking closed behind you, you turn to face Monica—

—and immediately freeze, entire body stiffening. You stare down at a the knife she has pointed at you, which she’d pulled out from somewhere hidden in her skirts. A part of you is surprised, just over the sheer fact someone is pointing a knife at you. You’re not surprised in the slightest that it’s Monica, or that she’d come to this final decision.

“Seriously?” You still find yourself asking. There’s a tiny inkling of panic that passes through you.

You’re not armed, if you have to protect yourself. If you get stabbed, it could be fatal. The guys had taught you how to effectively fight off different types of attackers—those who wielded knives, included. But would you be able to put what you’d learned into practice, let alone remember it? Or could you talk Monica down, instead?

“You’re becoming annoying,” Monica gives a small shrug, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “And you’re standing in the way of what I want.”

Maybe talking her down wasn’t an option, after all. But it doesn’t hurt to try. Or, at the very least, stall until you figure out what the hell to do.

“You were never going to help me, were you?” You realize, finding yourself once again lacking any surprise. She ultimately just wanted her toy back in her possession. Had you fallen into her trap? Had she seen through your ploy this entire time?

“No, at first I was. But then the more you spoke about him, the more I realized I really didn’t like you, and I realized I wasn’t happy he’d moved on so well,” she sighs, a bit dramatically. “I suppose you call this jealousy. I really was willing to assist you. There’s gain out of it for me if I do—but, you know, I came to the realization that I’m okay with how things are now. Not having answers—”

“You’re okay living in that constant repetition of not having your own answers, of being a slave to a debt?”

You realize you’ve misspoken too late. A dark look flashes across her face and she lunges at you with the knife. If you’re fast enough, blind rage is the easiest knife attack to dodge. Unfortunately, you’re not fast enough to completely miss the blade. But, at least you haven’t been stabbed.

“How do you know that?!” She’s screaming at you, and you’re aware on a very disoriented level that you’d probably just blown your cover of knowing her past and Wooyoung’s past.

You hoped she wouldn’t dwell too much on how you knew such things. Hopefully she, also, wasn’t smart enough to piece things together and figure out the ulterior motive here.

As quickly as Monica lunges forward, you step aside. You lift your arm, maneuvering it in such a way that is meant to go under the blade and under her arm—to knock the knife away. You manage to do so, though you don’t manage to hit her with enough force to knock the knife loose from her grip. She’s quick with her barrage of attacks, and as her hand is pushed aside, she brings the knife down on the other side of your arm. There’s an instantaneous pain in your shoulder as the blade grazes against the skin of your shoulder and upper arm.

There’s no time to think about the fire in your upper arm.

You turn quickly on your heel to throw your good arm over her own as it comes down with the blade, before she can bring the weapon back to herself, claiming her arm in a lock underneath your armpit. Your hands clamber in an attempt to wretch the blade free from her grip, but her fingers are deadlocked around the hilt.

The pain in your left arm is a slow burn at first, like molten lava slowly traveling through your veins. It both numbs the feeling in your arm and smolders just beneath your skin, as though it’s eating away at your veins. Poisoned. It was poisoned, the thought passes through your mind in a haze as you attempt to force the fingers on your left hand to work, deadened from the excruciating pain and practically useless.

A hard slap to the back of your head has you flinching in surprise. “Fucking bitch!” You growl. “Slapping? Really?!”

You’re grateful, though. While the hit causes your grip on Monica to loosen momentarily, it pulls you out of the pain you’re feeling just enough to regain yourself. You feel her about to pull away she feels your body loosen. Before she can, you tense up again, tightening your hold around her arm desperately. As she pulls, you move with her, before the two of you back up into a wall.

A wall.

Taking advantage of the situation, you pull you and yourself forward, before pushing back—slamming your bodies against the wall behind you. From behind you, Monica gasps in surprise at the impact. You repeat the process until she’s howling in your ear in frustration and pain, using her free hand to transition between attempting to shove you away and slap whatever part of your face she could reach. You can feel her attempting to maneuver herself out of the position she’s in, but her body is smaller than yours and you’re able to hold your ground.

You don’t let up until the knife falls from her hand finally, and as it does so, you let go of her and kick it across the room.

When you turn to face her, she’s panting, hunched over and holding her sides in pain. From underneath a mop of mussed red hair, she glares at you with those icy emerald eyes. Snake. “How do you know that about me?” She growls.

“Wooyoung told me everything,” you admit. “I’m taking his revenge out on a sore sight of a woman like you, for him.”

Filled with a sudden blind rage of your own, you take the two steps towards her, fingers clenched into a fist. She straightens up just in time to meet your fist connecting with her face.

But as it does so, there’s a white hot flash of pain in your abdomen. You let out a gasp of surprise, numbed left hand and hand you’d used to punch shakily dropping to your stomach. You don’t need to look down to feel the knife protruding out.

Monica stumbles back from the force of your punch, catching herself on some of the stray furniture before she falls over. When she looks up at you, there’s blood coming from her mouth, which curls into a smirk.

“Too bad I missed my mark. I was hoping for more vital organs. But hey, you should have Gila Monster venom running through your entire system right now. Incapacitating you is good enough for me…”

Gila Monster venom? Gravity takes over as the thought passes through your mind, and you collapse onto the floor. The impact hurts, but the pain in your body—from within your body—is more painful. Like you’re slowly being scalded and seared from the inside out. Suddenly, the fire you’d been forcefully pushing yourself through makes sense. A Gila Monster’s venom was said to be the most excruciatingly painful venom produced by any vertebrate. It wouldn’t kill you, it just hurt like hell.

You can’t help but shut your eyes against the pain, applying pressure to the area around the knife, as if you can will the agony away. Groaning, you let out a gasp against your suffering as you turn your head into the floorboards beneath where you lay. The exhale of breath and the sharp intake that follows causes you to cough, a foreign, sulfuric scent invading your lungs.

You press your lips together, so close that you can practically taste the smell you’ve inhaled. That is, until you realize that you actually can taste it. It’s dusty, but with a tangy mix of salt and pepper. You open your eyes, squinting, wondering if you’ve inhaled some sort of toxin on top of the venom being in your system. Maybe Monica had other plans to kill you.

The dusty scent lingers in your lungs enough that it scratches and becomes uncomfortable, and you cough again, noting in the dim light of the room the way a fine layer on the floor seems to sift from your breath.

Pushing yourself up onto one elbow, ignoring the screaming protest of your body, you glance down at the floorboards beneath you.

“Still have some fight left in you?” Monica sneered.

Wedged between the floorboards is a grainy powder, charcoal in color. It follows the gaps of most of the floorboards in the room.

I have this whole place rigged.

Make sure an hour after the sun sets, you’re out of the saloon.

Your head snaps up toward the single window in the room, realization dawning on you. Gunpowder. Jeanette’s father had been a weapons expert in the military, before retiring. She’d grown up on a ranch, but she’d also grown up with the ability to hunt and shoot as good as any man who walked around with a gun at the holster on his hip. The airy thought of her committing arson had passed through your mind briefly the night before, but a part of you had assumed she’d be a bit more direct with her approach at revenge.

This worked, though. An eye for an eye—she had wanted to take something important from Hongjoong, just as he had from her. The members of his gang were important; his back up family. Three of them were just beyond the walls of the room you stood in, in the saloon. Ripe for Jean’s revenge.

It wasn’t time yet, the sun still hovering on the horizon beyond the panes of the window. You weren’t sure where Jean fell into place with all of this. She’d told you to get out—which meant she was the one to pull the metaphorical trigger.

But a part of you figured you weren’t about to make it out of here unscathed, or even alive, otherwise. Monica’s intentions weren’t clear, and it wasn’t a risk you were willing to take.

Slowly, you push yourself to your feet, ignoring the venom working through your system with every movement. It scratches from inside your bloodstream, burning and searing. It’s absolute agony.

“Now you’re just asking for it,” Monica growls, righting herself up as you move. “Taking his revenge on me out for him? You don’t know anything—how his mind works, how he feels. Nothing! I don’t know what you came here for but—”

“I came here for a name,” you ground out between clenched teeth, through the pain. You pull yourself to your feet using a stray end table in the room. Slowly, but surely, you pull yourself up, and glance over your shoulder to glare at her.

“I came here for a name,” you repeat, reminding her, “you promised me the name of who you work for. I need that name.”

She scoffs. “You—and even he—can’t do anything with a name. He’s going to get nothing out of this but more pain.” As she answers you, she turns to pick up the first knife from the scuffle off the floor, before she turns on you. “The venom won’t kill you, but an actual stabbing with intent will, you know.”

You smile, glancing at the end table next to you.

I’m so sorry, guys. I’m sorry, Jean.

You can’t hold yourself up any longer, the torment is too great. So as you allow yourself to fall back down, the pain of the venom working through your system, you swipe the lit lantern off the table where it sits at the center, using such a force that you’ve practically thrown it off the surface—

—and then the world is on fire.

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