#choices are so important to sam. and over the course of the show he has them taken away from him in every possible context by every possible | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

intrepidacious · 1 year

Text

almost believing

summary: You and Bucky aren't exactly on speaking terms at the moment. That doesn't mean you're getting out of having to pretend to be married for a mission.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

word count: 5.4k

warnings: miscommunication dialled up to eleven bc it's me; friends to lovers with lots of seething in between; set around christmas, but not a christmas fic; slight spoiler warning for wakanda forever just to be safe

please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

prompt: fake dating, baby 😌 title and initial inspiration for this fic were taken from "so close" from enchanted. yes. that scene.

a/n: this was written for my wonderful tiff's sweet as sugar writing challenge!! @traitorjoelite i'm so proud of you and i hope you enjoy this fic. i really thought this one would be short i swear. big shoutout and thank you to @sweetascanbee for listening to me rant about this for weeks, i appreciate you so much!!

masterlist | read on ao3

Here’s the thing: It’s supposed to be a simple mission. Just gathering intel at the hotel for one single night, the two of you pretending that everything is fine for a couple of hours more.

After all, it’s Bucky’s last mission with you before his reassignment goes through.

Well, it’s not like it’s going to make a difference to how much you’re seeing him, to be honest.

You’re not sure when he started making himself rare or why, but once you noticed it, it was impossible not to.

"Sorry, I’m heading out," when you ask him to grab lunch together seems inconspicuous enough, as does, "Ah, I’m already supposed to meet Sam," when you try asking him about that trip to IKEA you’d been talking about for ages.

But it doesn’t stop there. One excuse follows the next, and suddenly there’s always something more important than the two of you hanging out.

Of course, you try to rationalize it at first. Swallow down your hurt feelings, because Bucky is your friend, and sometimes people just need space. You’re fine. The two of you are fine.

Once he starts scheduling dates for Friday night, though—which has always been movie night, always, every week since you met him—you know that something’s wrong.

"Is he angry with me?" you keep asking Steve, who looks very uncomfortable and definitely knows what's going on.

"Just give him a little space," he suggests timidly. So you do. You let the whole thing go.

For like a week.

"I just don’t know what I did," you tell Sam over drinks, your head held in your hands.

"Nope," he answers, downing his dregs. "I’m not doing this. Nuh-uh."

"You know, too?" you cry, accusingly pointing at him.

"I don’t know anything," Sam deadpans. And then he puts his scarf on and leaves.

"Maybe try talking to Bucky about it?" Natasha suggests, either incapable of hiding her amused smile or unwilling to try.

"I would if I ever saw him for longer than a 'hi, how are you' at the gym," you mumble. Fact is, you’re getting pissed about him giving you the silent treatment without even knowing what you did wrong.

Because before this, whatever this is, things were fine. Great, even. Free afternoons were spent on each other’s couches, introducing him to your favorite tv shows and letting him teach you that stupid card game he loves so damn much. You’d even been starting to imagine that there might be something …

Clearly, you were wrong.

Now, you can’t even look at him without your throat closing up. It’s like you woke up a few weeks ago and he’s become an entirely different person around you, much more like he was at the beginning of your friendship, distant and cold.

He didn’t even tell you that he’d signed up for a transfer.

The mission call feels like your last chance.

A whole evening of teamwork and espionage, of him basically having no other choice than talking to you and finally telling you why the fuck he would get himself reassigned without even telling you beforehand. You could’ve hugged Fury for the opportunity.

That is, until you’re handed the file containing your fake identities for the op a few hours before you’re supposed to leave.

"You’re joking," you say as soon as you open the door.

"Great, you’re here as well," Steve says dryly. "Again, a) you both gotta learn how to knock, b) the whole thing wasn’t my idea or my decision, but I also think it’s the best directive for what you’re trying to do, and c) no, there’s no one else available for the mission. Anything I missed?"

Bucky deliberately doesn’t meet your eye, his arms still crossed as he stares Steve down with a look you can’t decipher. He doesn’t even acknowledge you standing in the door, but his foot is doing the tapping thing again.

You purse your lips and join the staring.

Steve sighs, rubbing his temples with the palms of his hands. "Listen, you two work well together and I know these past few weeks have been … strained"—you almost laugh at that—"but it’s just one night."

"We need to pretend we’re married," you say. "How’re we going to pull that off if he can’t stand being in the same room as me?"

"I trust that there won’t be any issues." Steve raises an eyebrow at Bucky as he says that, but of course he doesn’t get a reply. That would necessitate talking in your presence.

"One night," Bucky repeats through gritted teeth.

Not for the first time, there seems to be some sort of silent conversation between the two of them that you’re not privy to. You roll your eyes.

"I’ll see you later."

You leave with your back straight and without a glance over your shoulder, the door slamming shut behind you.

For a moment, you’re tempted to barge into Natasha’s office next, but you have a feeling like she’d just give you another one of her looks again, which really won’t better your mood. So instead, you slam another door and flop onto your bed, blankly staring at the ceiling for a while.

Surely, there’s some twisted sort of irony in this whole situation, but you’re not laughing.

Usually, before a mission, you’d get bagels together from the bakery around the corner. You haven’t done that in a while, but you’re still quietly begging your phone to show a new unread message when you look at the time however long later.

Instead, there’s just your lockscreen picture of Bucky’s grinning face that you can’t bear to get rid off, no matter how many times it stings you. It’s almost a year old, now, back when you’d taken him to go do your holiday shopping with you, insisting that "no one’s gonna recognize you, look at that great cap you’re wearing".

It’d started snowing halfway through the afternoon, and he’d kept reaching for your hand in order not to lose you in the crowd. You both gave up halfway through your list and just went to get coffee instead, strolling through Central Park and talking about nothing and everything.

That’s when you’d realized you'd been falling in love with him, laughing and fingers freezing around your paper cup, a strange new warmth spreading throughout your body.

You need to change your lockscreen.

***

Half an hour before pick-up, you leave your room with a duffle bag slung over your shoulder and almost run into Bucky. He’s leaning against the opposite wall like he’s been waiting for you, and it stings because that’s what he always used to do, back when you were still talking. When you could still pretend that maybe, just maybe, your feelings weren’t quite so hopeless.

Now, though, his easy smile is missing. Instead, an ever-present frown is furrowing his brows again, his mouth opened just a little, but nothing comes out.

"Look, I don’t want to do this any more than you do," you sigh. "But it’s a two-person job."

He nods, his tongue poking his cheek. "I know."

"Do you think you’re gonna be alright with us pretending we’re madly in love for a whole evening?"

Bucky’s jaw tightens. "I’ll be fine."

Of course he’s going to be fine.

You grab the strap of your bag more tightly. "I wish you would just tell me what I did."

"You didn’t do anything." If he’s telling the truth, though, why does he look so numb?

For a moment, you want to shout at him, cry, beg, make him tell you when and how this went wrong, but you don’t. You just stare at him in silence, hoping he’ll get it anyway, and he refuses to notice it.

"So," Bucky finally says. "You ready to get hitched?"

There’s the ghost of a grin in his eyes, and even though it’s not enough to mask the uncomfortable tilt of his shoulders, you sigh. At least he’s trying, you suppose.

"Let’s just get fake-married so we can fake-divorce and go our separate ways," you say, walking past him.

"I’ve got something for you."

You turn around again, raising your eyebrows as he holds up a ring between the fingers of his left hand. There’s a giant stone set in its center, striking and sparkling and not subtle in the slightest. Tony really went all out for appearance’s sake. Your fingers involuntarily tighten around the strap of your bag.

Bucky drops the ring in the palm of your hand.

"Quite the present," you chuckle nervously. You don’t even want to know how much this thing costs, and you feel like they're going to chop off your head if something happens to it.

"Try it on, then."

It’s a bit too large on your finger, and it feels foreign. It’s not you at all. Then again, it’s not supposed to be you.

Before you can say anything, though, Bucky shakes his head. "What?" you say with a roll of your eyes.

"That couldn’t look more fake if you tried. Wait a sec."

He turns his back towards you and rummages through his bag for a while, his jaw still set as he holds out his hand once more. With a sigh, you pull the ring off again and return it, but before you can pull your hand back, he catches it in his own.

This one slides onto your finger perfectly, and your eyes widen at the sight of it. It’s a lot subtler, with only a small emerald for decoration, but it’s so delicate and beautiful it takes your breath away.

Bucky’s mouth opens and closes, but he swallows whatever came to his mind. "That’s better," he says instead, and his voice sounds oddly rough.

"They gave you a backup?" you say, angling your hand this way and that to see how the gem catches the light.

"Mhm."

Something is off about this whole situation, but then you feel like you don’t really know Bucky anymore. Not like you used to, anyway. It used to be so easy to get a read on him.

You stand there in silence for a moment, and it’s only then that both of you realize he’s still holding your hand. He drops it immediately, and you pretend it doesn’t sting.

"How come you don’t get a ring?" you ask.

"Says who?" Bucky says, clearing his throat and activating the camouflage sleeve Tony had installed for his arm. Sure enough, there’s a ring on his hand as well.

You grab his hand curiously. When you touch it, there’s no difference between his fingers and the pseudo-platinum band, all of it just cool vibranium in disguise.

"It’s fake," you say. "It’s not the same."

"No," he agrees and pulls his hand away. "Looks real enough, though."

You notice the red splotches on his neck and wonder what it is that you’ve said this time, but it’s pointless anyway. He’s not going to tell you even if you asked.

Maybe you should be used to him icing you out by now, but it still hurts.

***

"Yes, Steve, I know," you sigh. "We’re just gathering intel, nothing else."

"I just wanted to have you say it again so we’re all clear. You both love taking risks when it’s not necessary."

"Alright, punk, we got it," Bucky says, tugging at his tie again.

You can’t even blame him for the nervous habit; you’ve been twisting your fake wedding ring around your finger for the entire drive.

This isn’t the first time the two of you had to go undercover as a couple; hell, it’s not even the first time you’ve pretended to be married. Usually, though, you could have a laugh about the whole thing together.

Now you barely know how to act around Bucky as yourself, let alone as some made up woman.

"I think we’re going to attract a lot of attention if we don’t get out soon," you say, readjusting the collar of your blouse underneath your coat.

You notice Steve staring at your hand for a moment, a frown between his brows, but his lips curve upwards a split second later. "Ready to do this?" he asks and you smile a little in confirmation.

Bucky takes another breath and then he nods curtly. "Let’s go."

The change that goes through him as soon as the two of you climb out of the car is so stark you almost turn on your heels again and beg Steve to let you off the hook, after all. His hand sneaks around your waist and pulls you closely into his side as you walk towards the hotel, all soft smiles and charm.

"Sorry for the holdup," he tells the bellman waiting next to your bags with a wink. "The missus and I just needed another minute."

You lightly slap Bucky’s chest in fake indignation. It’s quick thinking on his part, really.

When you’re checking in under your assumed names for the evening, he keeps his arm around you, and the content look stays in his eyes. A subtle glance at your surroundings tells you some of your persons of interest have already arrived early for the event tonight, looking around the sparkling lobby with the same feigned boredom.

Bucky nudges your cheek with his nose and then smiles again when you look at him. It makes your brain shut off for a moment.

When he looks at you like this, it’s so easy to forget the past couple of months and just pretend for a moment. What if there was no mission at all, and it could simply be the two of you?

But of course, that’s not possible. All of it is fake, including the way he looks at you. You know that.

So how come it doesn’t feel fake to you at all?

***

You hate this dress, you hate these people, you hate this dinner, and most of all, you hate how much you enjoy spending this much time so physically close to Bucky.

It feels so natural when he links your hand with yours, so fucking meant to be, even though he’s just putting on a show for the band of creeps you’re tasked to keep an eye on.

But damn if he’s not good at it.

It’s amazing, really, how his eyes immediately soften when you turn your head towards him, like you’re the only person in the whole room. He looks at you during this charade like you wish he’d look at you daily, even far from prying eyes around you; especially then. It makes your breath shorten, your heart pounding erratically because it thinks it’s getting everything it’s ever hoped for.

Hearts are often stupid like that.

A full night of glances and touches and the pretence of secret whispers will do all kinds of twisted things to your feelings.

There’s a lull in the conversation, and when Bucky squeezes your hand you realize he’s no longer the only one who’s looking at you.

You chuckle nervously. "I’m sorry, I got … distracted for a moment. What were you saying?"

"Ah, newlyweds," one of the investor goons laughs. He’s a particularly vile looking man whose suit is way too big on his spindly limbs.

Bucky, academy award winning actor in another lifetime, chuckles politely while the fondness in his eyes seems to increase tenfold. "We’ve been married three years, actually," he says, sticking to your official cover story.

It’d been Tony’s idea to keep your fake timeline as close to the truth as possible to avoid any slip-ups. It’s a great move on paper, really, but in reality it just adds another nail to the coffin.

Three years ago, you were on a mission in Brussels, only the second one ever where it was just the two of you. It was mostly surveillance, so one of you usually had downtime while the other kept lookout. It became customary that you’d entertain each other during those long hours, getting to know each other intimately for the first time, taking the first tentative steps towards the friendship you now share.

That mission was the groundwork of your falling in love with him in the first place.

"You seem to be doing something right if you’re both still so enamoured with each other," Spindly Arms says.

"I’m the luckiest guy in the world," Bucky responds, still looking into your eyes. "It’s hard not to do the right thing, then."

He presses a kiss to your cheek and you smile timidly. His lips linger for just a moment, and then he moves to whisper into your ear, something you’re sure looks like sweet nothings to everybody else but is actually a, "Don’t fall asleep on me."

You tilt your head, shove him teasingly as if he’d said something inappropriate, and because he’s always been quick to catch on he winks, obvious enough so that the other people that are part of this conversation can clearly see it.

It’s not long after this that you excuse yourselves, walking around the room with apparent aimlessness. Everything is sparkling with pure gold decorations and countless little twinkling lights that have been scattered around the room like millions of fireflies. You spot an actual orchestra right underneath the massive Christmas tree.

"Kind of tacky, don’t you think?" Bucky murmurs with a sideway glance at you.

"Maybe a little," you say.

The truth is, though, the room looks oversaturated and expensive and magnificent. Something straight out of a Hallmark movie, more like a movie set than a real place.

It’s the one thing that keeps this whole thing from being completely unbearable.

He must have seen the truth in your eyes, because he ducks his head and says quietly, "I’m gonna go check out the terrace."

You just nod and smile as he kisses your cheek again and then vanishes through the crowd with a few long strides. Sighing, you take another drink from the tray a waiter offers you, absent-mindedly rubbing your cheek.

"What a lovely surprise," a voice says next to you and you freeze for a moment before forcing yourself to calmly take a sip. "Miss … Winter, was it?"

"Mrs," you say with a pleasant smile. "Good evening, Director."

"Right, of course." Director de Fontaine eyes her martini warily. "I don’t suppose these olives are fresh, do you?"

Your mind is racing. If she’s here on official business, then your entire operation might be compromised.

"So," she continues, looking rather bored. "Met any interesting people yet, Mrs Winter?"

"Oh, yes," you say lightly, clinging to your role of unassuming young wife. "It’s all rather exciting."

"I’m sure. These kinds of events are all very … shiny." She looks into your eyes and there’s an almost explicit warning written in hers. "It’s surprisingly easy to get blinded."

You swallow heavily even as she smiles. "If you’ll excuse me, I think I see someone …"

You quickly walk over to the buffet table where some of the wives have formed a semi circle of gossip, trying your best to hide your sigh of relief when the director doesn’t follow you.

For a few minutes, you lose yourself in pointless gossip, until one of the women takes hold of your forearm.

"You must tell us, what’s your secret?"

"Excuse me?" you chuckle nervously.

"Your husband!" she exclaims, earning a few nods from some of the others. "He clearly adores you," she goes on. "I don’t think he’s looked away from you once since you joined us."

You steal a look around your shoulder. She’s right. Bucky’s gaze immediately locks with yours, an almost bashful grin on his lips. You caught me, his eyes seem to say, and you feel a rush of heat go through you.

He should be nominated for an Oscar with this performance.

Quickly, you turn around again to meet several expectant pairs of eyes.

"I don’t know what to tell you," you say. "He’s just … always been like this. I mean, he’s my best friend. I really don’t know what I would do without him."

There’s not a word of a lie in what you’re saying, and it elicits a round of coos and murmurs even as your heart gives a sharp pang.

"Dance with me?"

You flinch, turning to look at Bucky’s outstretched hand, at the sad, hopeful look in his eyes, and the line between reality and fiction blurs a bit more.

You take his hand, and he pulls you onto the dance floor, some cheery Christmas song ramping up to its big finale. Then, the band switches to a slower song. To you, it sounds mournful.

"That was nice," Bucky mutters into your ear. "What you said."

"I meant it, you know," you whisper, but he turns, and you don’t think he’s heard you.

Bucky places his hand on your hip and you hide a shudder. His gloved fingers wrap around yours, and then you start moving again.

You barely know the steps, but he’s a great leader, and he doesn’t say anything when you step on his toes. In fact, his gaze softens even more when he looks at you after the third time, the hand around your waist pulling you a little closer.

"How are you doing this?" you say without stopping to smile.

"Easy," Bucky says, and the way he says it almost makes you believe it’s true.

You bite your lip, trying to stop yourself from breathing him in. "I didn’t mean the dancing."

With the last note of the song, you stumble over his foot again and he snorts. "Me neither."

The melody changes and neither of you lets go. His steps are getting slower, smaller, like he’s just trying to keep both of you in motion. Your head is spinning. The twinkling lights are starting to blur into a great mass of stars in the background, like you’re at the center of a music box and everything else is just background noise.

You wrap both hands around his neck as you’re swaying, then, your foreheads only inches apart. You could stay in this moment forever, you think, as it stretches into blissful infinity. Somewhere, a clock strikes ten.

Bucky leans in a little closer and your breath hitches again.

"It’s time," he whispers, and your eyes fly open.

You’d almost forgotten about the mission.

"Val is here," you say quietly.

His expression hardens for just a second. "What?"

"She came to talk to me earlier. She knows we’re here."

"Why didn’t you say something?"

"I … There wasn’t time."

"We’re just gonna have to be quick and discrete."

You open your mouth, but then you see the distance close in again between you two, and so you just nod.

The plan is almost laughably simple, but it’s probably going to work out just as you’ve laid out beforehand. Everyone in the room has watched the two of you staring at each other for the past couple of hours, so no one bats an eye when Bucky nudges you gently and you make your way up the stairs to the fancy elevator that’s going to take you up to a bedroom.

Or, more specifically, to a bedroom that’s being used to store all kinds of evidence, but no one else needs to know that little detail.

You notice the director talking to Spindly Arms and a couple of other people, but you force your gaze not to linger on her. Instead, you grab Bucky’s hand more tightly.

He lets go of you as soon as the elevator doors close behind the two of you, dragging a hand through his hair and messing it up. There aren’t any cameras in the elevator, but you’re both pretty sure there will be on the floor you’re going. "CIA exposure, that’s exactly what we needed."

"There was nothing I could’ve done," you say, tugging your sleeves down your shoulders.

"I’m not blaming you, sweetheart," Bucky says distractedly, loosening his tie. Your heart makes a very heavy thud. "But if Walker shows up tonight as well, I’m gonna shoot first and ask questions later."

"No, you won’t," you say with a grin, mostly because you know he didn’t bring his gun because the male attendees were all frisked at the entrance.

"Maybe I’ll throw a knife. I could say it was an accident."

The conversation lasts barely a moment, but it reminds you so much of what the two of you used to be, it hurts.

You follow him stumbling out of the elevator onto the right floor with a breathless laugh. There’s no one in sight as you subtly check the room numbers before making him follow you with a coquettish smile for the security camera.

You find the right door without much trubble, pulling the keycard out of your inconvenient little handbag. "Come on now," you murmur as the lock rejects it at the first try.

Suddenly, Bucky’s hand is on your waist again, and you gasp as he spins around. The keycard drops to the floor.

He presses you against the wall, effectively trapping you in his embrace. Your hands are laid flat against his chest, his heart thundering madly underneath your fingertips. Bucky’s eyes flit around madly, like he’s trying to come up with something on the spot and, for the first time since you’ve known him, is left without ideas.

You gasp as his nose brushes against yours.

"Sorry," he whispers hoarsely. And then he kisses you.

Your body responds immediately, lighting a fire in your core as his lips press against yours, hungry, gentle, almost apologetic. You can taste the champagne on his tongue.

You arch your back against him on instinct as his hands travel down your arms, brushing your hips, your tighs, slowly parting your dress at the slit. Your eyes fly open the moment you realize what he’s doing, even though he swallows your gasp.

In one smooth motion, he pulls the I.C.E.R. out of the garter on your thigh and fires a single, silenced shot. The guy with the earpiece barely has the time to grunt before he sacks against the opposite wall, unconscious, his hand still in the pocket of his jacket.

"Fuck," you hiss, pushing Bucky away from you. He stumbles slightly, the gun loose in his fingers. His eyes are almost black as he blinks at you. "You could have told me we’re being shadowed."

Bucky’s mouth is stained from your lipstick, and the sight of that alone makes your head swim. You can still feel the ghost of his hand on your leg.

"It’d have blown our cover," he replies, infuriatingly calm. "Hate me later, our window has just narrowed by a bit."

You swallow, blinking to try and gain control over your breath again, grabbing your gun back with a short nod. "Let’s finish this, then."

***

Back at the Compound, you both give an exhausted report about the events of the night, leaving out nothing but your improvised kiss on floor fifteen.

Your lips are still tingling with it.

Finally, you and Bucky are left alone in the briefing room, and for the first time in weeks, he doesn’t just get up and leave as soon as the silence takes hold. Instead, you both sit next to each other, staring straight ahead.

"I guess we should talk," he says slowly, reluctantly, and you can’t help it.

Your defenses shoot up again.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," you say, squinting.

"Yes, you do." He’s lost the tie hours ago, but he keeps tugging at the fabric in his hands as if it could give him the words he’s looking for. "I shouldn’t have kissed you, not with … Not like that."

"Like you said, the guy would’ve blown our cover," you say, crossing your arms.

"Doesn’t make it right."

"What do you want me to say, Buck?" you say sharply. "That you should’ve talked to me before? Well, I’m kind of used to you not doing that anymore, so just forget it."

"Y/N—"

"No, really, it’s fine. Like I said, you’re leaving, anyway, so what does it matter. Didn’t tell me you were planning to do that, either. You just did it."

"You know why I’m leaving."

"No, I fucking don’t!" There are tears in your eyes now. "I have been trying really hard, Bucky, but you’ve just shut me out. I thought you needed space, which is fine, by the way, but you just—one day you decided you were done with me and that was it."

He stares at you incredulously. "You seriously don’t remember."

"Don’t remember what?!"

"That you were talking about me. To Natasha."

The memory rushes through you so violently it’s almost ridiculous you hadn’t thought about it in months.

You’d just come back from another undercover op, and you’d called her right as the door to your room had closed behind you because not for the first time, your feelings had threatened to spill over again.

"You should talk to him. Be honest."

"No, Nat, come on, I can’t—I can’t do that to him. I can’t risk … you know, he’s my best friend. And that’s all it can ever be. I don’t want to ruin what we have. I just wish he’d make it easier."

"You’re making excuses, you know. Both of you deserve a bit of happiness, don’t you think?"

"I tried," Bucky says now, barely looking at you. "I tried making it easier. But you’re so …"

"So what?" you ask hollowly, ignoring the fact that you can feel the tears starting to trickle down your cheeks now. "So pathetic? That’s what this is about, isn’t it? That’s why you asked for the transfer, so you can be rid of me."

"Rid of you?" Bucky starts, but you ignore him.

"You know what, Bucky, fuck you if you think my feelings for you are so much of an inconvenience that you need to leave the state. Silly me for thinking we could be adults about this."

"You’re the one who wouldn’t just tell me."

"Well, now you know anyway and I’m sure once you’re off to Cairo or wherever the fuck they’re going to send you, you can have a big old laugh about the stupid girl who fell in love with you despite the fact that—"

"Love?"

"I mean, obviously?!"

"You … you’re in love … with me?" There’s something very soft and vulnerable in Bucky’s eyes.

"Are we talking about two different phone calls?"

"I thought you hated me."

You huff incredulously. "Why would I hate you?"

"That’s why I gave you space, I thought … but then …" He grabs your hands. "Sweetheart, I’ve been in love with you for years."

It punches the air out of your lungs. "What?"

Bucky’s eyes are devastating as he looks at you, then. "I’m so sorry, I—I got it all wrong, I was just—I thought you know and you didn’t see me like that and that’s why I …"

"You …?" you say, still not quite comprehending what’s going on.

His thumb caresses your knuckles, halting when it makes contact with the ring you’re still wearing. "I'm in love with you," he says quietly.

"I don’t understand," you whisper.

"Please tell me I didn’t fuck this up completely."

This time, you’re the one to lean in.

Where your first kiss in the hallway had been feverish, this one is soft, almost unbelievably sweet, both of you still breathless with the fact that you’re allowed to do this. Finally, it feels like all the pieces are falling into place and you’re home again.

You press closer into him and Bucky smiles against your lips, pulling you in with his hands on your hips just like he did when you were dancing earlier.

The loudspeakers overhead crackle. "Alright, kids, we’re gonna break this up until you’re back in your own quarters, I don’t want to expose FRIDAY to the creation of your sex tape."

You break up with a snort.

"Fuck you, Tony," Bucky shouts, but he’s still smiling as wide as you’ve ever seen him do.

You giggle as you nudge your nose against his, curling your fingers into his hair. "That reminds me, you know."

"Of what?"

"Quick and discrete," you mumble, repeating his words from the hotel. "Title of your sex tape."

Bucky groans and shuts you up again.

(A few years later, you get the ring back.)

happy holidays, y'all 💛 thank you for reading!! if you want to see more of my writing, check out my masterlist or follow @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications!!

#sweet as sugar challenge #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfic #almost believing

5K notes · View notes

sare11aa11eras · 1 month

Note

Heyy! if you’re still taking art requests and if you have the time, can you draw Arya killing Dareon?

“Did he ever find a ship to Oldtown? He said he was supposed to sail on the Lady Ushanora.”

“We all were. Lord Snow’s command. I told Sam, leave the old man, but the fat fool would not listen.” The last light of the setting sun shone in his hair. “Well, it’s too late now.”

“Just so,” said Cat as they stepped into the gloom of a twisty little alley.

-Cat of the Canals, A Feast for Crows

Hi nonny!! Sorry this took like. A month for me to actually sit down and start working on. Hope you like it!

Few notes under the cut!

When I sat down to re-read the scene, I was struck by how Martin’s narration skips over the actual killing, jumping ahead to Arya returning home that night. This is of course a dramatic tool, obscuring the murder from first time readers so that Arya revealing it at the end of the chapter is that much more striking, but I think it’s interesting from a writing standpoint that we don’t get to see Dareon die from her point of view here. We get none of her internal monologue, her rationale for the killing, just the conversation leading up to it and the consequences later. I really like this as a writing choice, as it leaves so much up to the reader’s observation and understanding of her character.

Visually it was very important to me to show the vair lining the inside of the cloak, a visual/color reminder that Arya makes this execution as an exercise of her Stark identity— he is a night’s watch deserter and furthermore he just make a remark about Jon. As a Stark, it is her duty to kill Night’s Watch deserters, and she likely feels a double duty as Jon’s sister. Vair is not consistently used to signify the Starks in the text— only 4/10 total instances of it, including this one, in the text are in reference to the Starks, two more are for the Freys, and one is for Cersei, so clearly it’s not a Stark-exclusive. Still, the grey and white vair on the inside of the cloak instantly struck me as a symbol of how Arya views Dareon in this moment as a Stark man who has betrayed her family.

I realize you might have hoped for a clearer depiction of Arya, but I had a few reasons for this layout. First, I wanted to obscure her face— obscure her emotions and motivations, just as the text does, leaving them to the audience’s deductive skills. Secondly, this was a pretty easy pose and it got me that visual piece with the cloak. And thirdly, the description of the scene emphasizes Arya stepping into the shadows, and I wanted to capture that ninja assassin mystique to the scene as it would have been from a personal point of view.

#asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #my art #art requests #arya stark #dareon the singer #affc #anonymous #hi nonny!#Asks #asoiaf fashion hour #cat of the canals #dareon

95 notes · View notes

pinchofhoney · 8 months

Note

Because I wanna spread the "we need more Belphagor" message, how about something with him? Platonic or romantic is your choice but we need more content for him bc he's so :))))

on the verge of a fever

belphegor x fem!reader

word count: 2.7k

warning: the way his character appears in the show has been changed for the purposes of this story; basically, here god is not trying to ruin the whole world, mention of drinking alcohol

summary: Ever wondered if Hell hosts Monopoly nights?

a/n: belphagor is my spirit animal. when you text me, it's the person who writes you back lmao my profile currently looks like a fan club of your requests, but it's not my fault that my obsession with this series is back and you're the only one with ideas related to it. i hope you enjoy it!!<33

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

gif is not mine, credit to the owner

Guiding Sam and Dean towards the bunk stairs, you couldn't help but notice the genuine concern etched on Sam's face. He leaned in, his tone brimming with sincere care, and gently reminded you, “You know, if you ever need a hand, just remember that Castiel is just a phone call away.”

This morning's awakening had thrown you a curveball. At first, you brushed off the strange sensations coursing through your body, thinking they were caused by the aging mattress beneath you. Yet, with each passing moment, that peculiar feeling escalated into something far more troubling. It clung to you like an insistent itch, impossible to ignore, casting an unsettling shadow over your day.

Now, wrapped snugly in the comforting cocoon of your soft, pink blanket, you found yourself ensnared in the relentless grip of a fever. Your body radiated heat, and every movement became a battle against the oppressive weight of illness. The sole lifeline keeping you tethered to the realm of the living was the medication within easy reach.

Summoning a faint smile, you struggled to reassure Sam, who always kept a watchful eye, despite the fatigue evident in your voice. “I'll handle it,” you whispered, your words carrying a hint of exhaustion.

Trying to make the serious mood a bit lighter, you couldn't resist adding a touch of playful sarcasm. “Well, maybe you should head out before your God buddy decides it's time to disappear once again.”

After saying goodbye to the Winchesters, you headed back to your bed. You didn't want to bother Castiel with your problems; you knew he had more important things to worry about than a grown-up hunter catching a simple cold.

As you entered your room, you couldn't help but grumble to yourself. Why did it seem like Sam and Dean never got sick? You were used to risking your life to hunt supernatural creatures, and now, on top of that, you had to deal with a fever. It just didn't seem fair. You plopped down on the edge of your bed, feeling frustrated. This illness was not only physically uncomfortable but also a reminder that even tough hunters like you had to face everyday human struggles.

Ridiculous, you thought.

You took a quick look on the mirror standing in the corner, then let out a sigh of annoyance and laid down on your bed, giving in to a sense of resignation. You didn't even notice when you drifted off to sleep.

Hours later, you slowly opened your eyes, hoping to find some relief from the persistent illness that had plagued you. However, as your vision cleared, you realized that you felt even worse than before. It was as if the fever had intensified during your restless slumber, wrapping you in a suffocating embrace.

With a groan of discomfort, you pushed yourself upright, your head pounding with every movement. The room seemed dimmer, and the last rays of daylight coming from the corridor appeared harsh and unforgiving. Your throat was parched, and your limbs felt heavy as if they were made of lead.

Casting a rueful glance at the clock, you realized that time had slipped away during your troubled nap. It was as though the fever had stolen not only your strength but also precious hours from your day.

You came close to grabbing your phone and calling Castiel, but you resisted, refusing to give in to a moment of vulnerability – or so you tried to convince yourself.

Struggling considerably, you managed to shift your legs off the bed and, with an effort that would make an elderly man with mobility issues proud, you stood up. Your own sigh of discomfort mirrored the sound one might expect from someone in such a situation. You briefly caught a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror, mentally noting how pitiful you appeared, before making your way into the hallway, your feet dragging wearily behind you.

The bunker had settled into an eerie quietness, broken only by the weighty sound of your footsteps. As you made your way into the main room, your initial plan to head to the opposite corridor was interrupted by an abrupt rustling in a dimly lit corner of the space.

Your tired eyes strained to identify the source of this disturbance. Could it be a mere product of your fevered imagination? You wouldn't be surprised if your illness had started playing tricks on your mind. After all, nobody else was supposed to be allowed in the vast bunker.

And then, right there, bathed in the soft, muted glow of the bunker's emergency lighting, stood a figure you never anticipated encountering. Your heart skipped a beat, your breath caught in your throat, and your fever-addled brain could only muster one thought; Jack. Why was he here? What was happening? Wasn't he...?

“Jack?” you questioned hesitantly, your gaze darting around the room in search of some evidence that you were still ensnared in a dream.

The figure before you smirked. It wasn't the gentle, innocent smile of Jack. It was something darker, more twisted. Your fevered mind raced to find an explanation. Maybe it was the fever. Yes, that had to be it. You were conjuring this surreal scene in your delirium.

“Hello,” greeted the boy, lifting his right hand in a welcoming gesture, mirroring the way Jack used to.

Confusion knitted your brows as you unconsciously took a cautious step toward this familiar-looking stranger, clutching your blanket tightly around you. Your scrutiny intensified as you examined him closely. The person before you was dressed in the same attire as the last time you saw Jack, but it couldn't possibly be him. Jack Kline had met his demise, so why was he standing before you now?

Your gaze wandered to the sunglasses perched on the boy's face, and you couldn't help but shake your head with a hint of amusement. You swiftly turned away, fully convinced that your need for medication was far more pressing than entertaining these unsettling hallucinations. As you made your determined exit, you could almost hear a faint chuckle from behind you.

“Leaving so soon? And here I was, hoping for some company,” the boy, or rather, the entity inhabiting the boy's body, remarked with a sly grin, his voice dripping with faux disappointment. His sunglasses hid the fiery void that should have been his eyes, concealing his true nature as he attempted to blend in.

You paused, feeling an inexplicable mix of curiosity and unease. There was something off about this whole situation, and it wasn't just the fact that you were conversing with someone who looked like Jack but couldn't possibly be him. The aura this stranger exuded was friendly yet laced with an unsettling undercurrent of something more sinister.

“Why are you here?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly despite your best efforts to maintain composure.

The boy's smile widened, revealing a veneer of friendliness that barely concealed his sadistic amusement. “Oh, I was getting dreadfully bored down in Hell. Thought I'd stretch my legs, so to speak.”

His casual tone and the way he spoke about Hell as if it were a mundane inconvenience sent a shiver down your spine. This was no ordinary encounter, and you couldn't help but wonder if your fever had conjured up this bizarre scenario.

“I'm Belphegor,” the demon chimed in, noting your dubious expression. “Just a temporary tenant, you know? This body was basically vacant real estate, so I thought, 'Why not?' I mean, squatters' rights and all,” he quipped, nonchalantly shrugging his shoulders as if discussing his choice of a new apartment. His grin remained as inscrutable as ever, a blend of friendly and utterly unsettling.

You couldn't help but raise an incredulous eyebrow at the demon's cavalier attitude. This was a new low, even for the world you lived in.

“Squatters' rights, huh?” you muttered, not sure whether to be amused or deeply disturbed by his casual demeanor. “Well, congratulations on your, uh, new accommodations.”

Belphegor chuckled, the sound a disconcerting blend of mirth and something far more alarming. “Thanks, I think it suits me. But, you know, I'm not all that bad once you get to know me,” he added with a wicked grin, as if trying to convince you that sharing a body with a demon was just a quirky and harmless coincidence.

Your instincts told you otherwise, and you couldn't help but wonder how deeply the Winchesters were embroiled in whatever bizarre deal this demon had cooked up.

“So, um,” you began, feeling a little like you were fumbling through a conversation with a distant relative you'd rather not acknowledge at a family reunion. The situation was beyond awkward, standing there face-to-face with a demon who had chosen to squat in a body you knew all too well. “Care for a drink?”

If you could, you would have rolled your eyes right then and there, but you had to maintain some semblance of composure. You knew you should be taking action, maybe calling the brothers or attempting to exorcise Belphegor, but your phone was conveniently left behind in your room, and it seemed that the universe had a thing against including demon-killing pockets in your pajamas.

Belphegor's lips curved into a wicked smile, his amusement clear despite the sunglasses concealing his eyes. “Well, aren't you the hospitable one,” he quipped, as if being invited for a drink by the friend of his borrowed body was a regular occurrence.

You couldn't help but chuckle nervously, the absurdity of the situation sinking in. “I figure if I can't beat the demon, I might as well join it for a drink,” you replied with a wry grin, attempting to keep things light, even though your mind was racing with thoughts of what to do next.

As you both made your way to the kitchen, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were walking on thin ice, navigating a situation that seemed to defy all logic. Sharing a drink with a demon in your pajamas was definitely not how you had planned to spend your day, but sometimes, but sometimes you had to improvise.

Entering the kitchen, you were determined to play it cool, all the while keeping a close eye on the boy. You grabbed a bottle of Dean's favorite liquor from the cabinet, figuring that if this was going to be a bizarre demon rendezvous, you might as well make it a memorable one.

“Here's to unexpected company,” you said with a somewhat forced cheerfulness as you poured two glasses, trying your best to hide the anxiety gnawing at your nerves.

Belphegor accepted the drink with a bemused nod, raising his glass in a mock toast. “To unlikely alliances,” he replied, his tone dripping with amusement.

While he was distracted with his drink, you seized the opportunity to grab a glass of water and discreetly pop a couple of fever-killing pills. You hoped that once the medication kicked in, the demon might just decide to take his leave, making this weird encounter nothing more than a fever-induced hallucination.

Sipping your water and pretending to engage in the odd conversation, you silently counted the minutes until the medication would hopefully bring some relief.

As the time passed, you couldn't shake the feeling that this encounter was all too real. The fever medication had begun to work its magic, and you felt a wave of dizziness wash over you, courtesy of the combination of drugs and alcohol. Your head was spinning like a top, and you realized that your attempt to blend in and have a normal conversation with a demon was spiraling into absurdity.

“So,” you slurred slightly, trying to focus your blurry gaze on Belphegor, “what's it like down there in Hell? I mean, besides the whole eternal torment thing. Do you guys have, like, a book club or a knitting circle to pass the time?”

Belphegor raised an eyebrow, his amusement evident even through those opaque sunglasses. “Well, it's not all fire and brimstone, you know,” he replied with a mock-serious tone, playing along with your bizarre line of questioning. “We do have our demon potlucks, and occasionally, a game night with some fiendishly fun board games.”

You couldn't help but giggle at the mental image of demons huddled around a Monopoly board in Hell. The combination of fever-induced delirium and the surrealness of the situation had turned the conversation into a comical farce.

“What's your favorite board game, then?” you asked, leaning in closer as if discussing board games with a demon was the most normal thing in the world.

Belphegor chuckled, his sinister amusement undiminished. “Twister,” he replied with a sly grin, and you couldn't tell if he was joking or not.

Lost in the absurdity of your conversation with the demon, you paid little attention to the strange sounds echoing through the bunker. It was as if the very walls were whispering secrets, and you chalked it up to your fevered imagination playing tricks on you.

Belphegor was in the middle of describing a particularly demon version of a summer vacation when a sudden, unexpected voice pierced through the haze of your conversation.

“Y/N” Castiel's deep voice resonated through the kitchen, his sudden appearance causing you to jump so violently that you almost knocked over your glass.

You turned to see Castiel standing in the entrance to the kitchen, his blue eyes penetrating the sunglasses-clad Belphegor with a steely gaze. The demon's expression shifted from amusement to surprise as he realized the presence of an angel.

“Castiel!” you exclaimed, your heart racing as you struggled to regain your composure. “I, uh, didn't expect to see you here.”

Belphegor's amusement seemed to wane as he met Castiel's unwavering gaze. The room fell silent, and the atmosphere shifted from surreal absurdity to a tense standoff between angel and demon.

“What does this supposed to mean?” Castiel asked, his voice steady as he approached the countertop where you were seated, sliding a blade out of his sleeve.

You quickly rose from your seat, wanting to calm the situation. The absurdity of the situation, in which you, in a pink blanket, wanted to defend a demon who could kill you with a snap of your fingers, did not reach you.

“That's Belphegor,” you stammered, your voice wavering as confusion and uncertainty welled up. You realized you had no real justification for the demon's visit. “I-I have no idea why he's here, but he's... uh, he's cool.” Trying to defend the demon only earned you doubtful glances from both Castiel and Belphegor, making this already weird situation even more confusing.

“I've got an offer that might catch the Winchesters' attention,” the demon said as he stepped forward from behind you.

Castiel's expression darkened as he confronted the demon, anger simmering just beneath the surface. “Taking Jack's body... this is desecration,” he hissed, his voice carrying the weight of his disapproval. The angel's gaze bore into Belphegor, as if willing him to understand the gravity of his actions.

You stepped in between the two, desperately trying to ease the mounting tension. “Look, I know this is... complicated,” you began, your voice trembling slightly with the weight of the situation. “But maybe Belphegor has something important. We should hear him out before we jump to conclusions.”

Belphegor, for his part, maintained his sly grin, unfazed by Castiel's anger. “I'm just a demon trying to make the best of my situation,” he chimed in, his tone almost cheerful. “Besides, the vessel was just sitting there, collecting dust. I thought it could use some fresh air, you know.”

Castiel clenched his jaw, clearly struggling to contain his frustration. “It's not about the vessel, it's about respect and dignity.”

Before Castiel could retort further, the kitchen door swung open, and Sam and Dean walked in. Their faces registered a mix of surprise and confusion as they took in the scene before them. The room was filled with a charged silence, broken only by the creak of the door.

“What's going on in here?” Dean finally asked, breaking the awkward standoff. His gaze shifted from you to Castiel and then to Belphegor, who was still wearing that boyish grin beneath those stupid sunglasses.

147 notes · View notes

strangethings-everywhere · 1 year

Text

Before You Go // Ethan Landry // Ch.6

Masterlist Word Count: 1100 Warnings: ANGST and some smoochin Author's Note: I am SO SORRY that this came so late, its been so busy the past few weeks. We should be wrapping up the story soon and it shouldn't take me like two weeks to upload next time lol

After moving to New York with your friends after the Woodsboro killings, you try to leave all of it behind you and start over. You become friends with Ethan Landry, but after Ghostface returns, you start to become suspicious of everyone, especially him.

It felt like hours before Ethan returned to your hiding place in the office. You figured out that you were in that abandoned movie theater Mindy had shown you, the one with the Ghostface shrine. You had no idea what time it was or when your friends were supposed to show up, but you knew that their plan was doomed to fail.

When Ethan came back, he was wearing his Ghostface costume, mask in hand. He kneeled down next to you and began to undo the duct tape around your wrists and ankles.

“What are you doing?” You asked softly.

“Your friends are almost here. When they go into the theater, I need you to run and call the cops.” He avoided your eyes. “I need you to run and keep running, no matter what happens.”

With your hands free, he moved to your ankles. You reached out a tentative hand and brushed his curls from his face. “Ethan, you can’t do this.”

“I don’t have a choice.” His voice was firm, but his eyes betrayed him. You could see how scared he was. “I have to finish this.”

“What on earth could possibly be forcing you to do this?” You whispered. Ethan met your eyes.

“You don’t understand. My entire life, it’s always been about Richie. I’m the youngest, the second son. My dad has always loved Richie more than me, and of course, Quinn is his baby girl so she’s also more important to him.” He shook his head. “I’m a nuisance, an afterthought. He’s told me since I was little that I would never be as good of a son as Richie was.”

“So now you’re killing people because you want your dad to like you?” It seemed ridiculous, but you were lucky to have parents that loved and cared about you. You had no idea how it felt to be constantly second best. “Your dad’s love isn’t worth murder.”

“He wanted me to kill my mom.” Ethan spat. He looked like he wanted to vomit. “He knew she wouldn’t approve of his little plan and told me that he’d be so proud of me if I did what needed to be done.” He began to shake. “Of course, my mom is the only person who ever supported me. I couldn’t do it. It didn’t matter though because a week before I started college, she disappeared.”

Your heart dropped. You never thought that you’d feel bad for Ghostface, but the look on Ethan’s face made you want to cry. Your mom was also one of your biggest supporters and you couldn’t imagine how you’d feel if she was gone. You reached out and squeezed his hand. “Ethan, I’m so sorry about your mom.”

“If I don’t do this, he’ll kill me.” Ethan shook his head. “He’ll kill you too and I can’t lose you.”

“Then leave with me.” You grabbed his face, forcing him to look at you. “Ethan, you can leave. Sam and all of them will probably survive, your dad will go to prison, and we’ll be safe.”

Ethan let out a frustrated growl. “Where will we go?” He stood and started pacing back and forth. “If my dad is arrested, he’ll testify that I was part of this and then we’d be running from the cops for the rest of our lives. Y/N, I can’t ask you to do that, to live that kind of life with me.”

You stood on shaking legs and grabbed his face with both hands. He froze, his eyes wide as he stared at you. “I’m trying to save your life because I care about you. If being with you means running, then I’ll run to the edges of the world with you.” You gave him a small smile. “Let me save you.”

Ethan took a deep breath and slammed his lips to yours. It was full of desperation, his hands pulling you impossibly close as if he was afraid you’d disappear. Your mind was melting as his touch, barely able to comprehend that you were actually kissing him.

Your back hit the wall and you suddenly found yourself caged in by Ethan’s strong arms. One hand was against the wall and his other hand had a vice-like grip on your waist, his fingers sneaking under your shirt to brush against your skin. You shivered at his touch and he smiled against your lips. His teeth nipped at your bottom lip and you parted them slightly. He deepened the kiss, happily exploring your mouth as his hands started to roam. You slid your hand under his shirt, pressing your palm against his stomach. His muscles tensed under your hand and he let out a ragged breath. Nothing mattered in that moment. It was the two of you against the world, nothing could break you apart. It should feel wrong, kissing a boy who’d killed people, but you felt like you belonged there in his arms.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long.” He murmured. Ethan pulled away and nuzzled his face in your neck, leaving soft kisses across your neck and shoulders. You tangled your fingers in his hair and let out a sigh. “I’ve had a crush on you since the day we met.”

“Really?” You whispered. He nodded. “Well now you definitely have to come with me.”

Ethan raised his head and met your eyes. “Why?”

“Because I’m beginning to realize that I can’t live without you.” You could feel your eyes filling with tears. “I need this, I need you.”

He smiled. “Yeah?”

“Ethan, I-”

The door flew open and Ethan was ripped from your grasp. It was Officer Bailey, eyes fiery with rage. He threw Ethan to the ground and pointed a gun at you.

“So this is why you keep coming in here.” Officer Bailey pressed the barrel of the gun to your forehead. “I should shoot her right now and be done with it. I thought I told you to get rid of her.”

“Dad, she doesn’t have to die.” Ethan coughed, a hand pressed to his ribs. His fall had knocked the wind out of him. “Please.”

“There is so much weakness in you.” Officer Bailey glanced down at his son with disappointment. “Richie would’ve done it by now. You were supposed to kill her at the apartment.”

“Dad, I-” Ethan was cut off by a swift kick to the ribs, causing him to go into a coughing fit. Officer Bailey turned back to you.

“He’ll just have to kill you in front of your friends now. Let’s go sweetheart.”

#ethan landry x reader #jack champion #ethan landry #ethan landry imagine #scream 6 #scream franchise

79 notes · View notes

elfqueen006 · 4 months

Text

Duchess' Choice - Villainess AU

Based off of @yukidragon's Villainess AU headcanons, that are absolutely brilliant! I love villainess manhwas with all my heart, and the Sunny Time Town AU being added to the mix is even better because the AU as a whole needs more attention!!

---

May-Rose is a perfect cut out for a villainess isekai protagonist in my opinion. She's curt, standoffs, and can have a bit of a sadistic streak if she's feeling nasty - it usually never goes too far beyond some teasing and hazing, though.

In my "perfect universe" of what I would call the Sunnyside AU, Ian has inherited the role of Sunny Day Jack from an older Jacktor rather than usurping it by the studio. In this universe, May-Rose is the Cloudy-Bell Sue actress' daughter, and seeing as this makes her "television royalty", she'd automatically be offered a role on the show, likely as a supporting character.

Instead though, she chooses to be in the background, working on designing the set, the toys, and some of the promotional material.

And she loves it! She feels like she's playing an important part in all of this.

And another thing, Ian and May are engaged in this universe. Everything seems to be going well for her!

That is until she caught Ian cheating with an old flame in the backseat of his car. Skylar, her name was. Ian got caught up with her in theater school. It was a big hurdle in their relationship but he'd sworn to May that he wouldn't get involved with her again... guess old habits die hard.

In a fit of rage, May had stormed off set and drove away. She died in a crash shortly...

Enter the villainess, Midnight Bluebelle. At first, she was a one-off antagonist from the original series. A mime lady who mocked people with puppets and took toys from children. The new Sunnytime Crew Show would've been written with more complex situations in mind, and if May were on board with acting, she would've been cast as such and been a villain for a major arc. However, she was scrapped from the show and put in the promotional book series aimed at young girls and tweens: Duchess' Choice !

The OMC in Duchess Choice is a generic female lead to stand in for the reader. She's from a dwindling house, but boosts her standing in high society after returning Prince Jacks' special pin that was given to him by his father who's away on diplomatic business.

Her sudden popularity then attracts attention within and outside the castle, including that of the cruel Duchess, Midnight Bluebelle, who taunts and sets up various schemes to sabotage OMC's standing with the prince, whom she aims to marry after discarding her fiance, Ian Duff, the knight deemed Sir Sweet Dreams.

Over the course of the three books OMC balances other possible suitors such as the Glad-Pire, Sous Chef Sweetly, and Sir Sweet Dreams. Inevitably, the endgame is Prince Jack. And after learning of her crimes, Belle is stripped of her title and is exiled from the capital.

When May awakens as Belle, she's in the middle of the ballroom floor, having fainted either due to shock or a sudden illness.

She's tended to by her only living relatives, cousins Cloudy Belle Sue and her resentful father, Sam Sours of the Marquisate.

She's taken to her estate and takes some time to gather her bearings, taking note of the point in time before the story.

She and Ian have only been recently engaged, set up via Gretchen Duff as a way to keep Ian in check, so the first standing of business is to properly divorce him. Just because she remembers the woman she was doesn't make her blameless in Sir Ian's torment. She divorces him and makes a formal apology to him, leaving him perplexed and worried.

With the title of Duchess gone, Belle has gone back to being a Marquess. Naturally, this raises some eyebrows that the coarse and condescending woman would cut off a man so devoted to her without a second thought.

Sam definitely has some things to say. In his eyes, she'd blown off the best chance at a happier life even after she practically abandoned Sue and him. But Belle has a plan in mind. She decides... to open up a toy store!

Before Ian had gotten his big break, Belle as May had been struggling to make ends meet for the both of them. Part-time, she worked as a cashier in a yogurt shop. But she'd made a majority of her funds making gothic stuffed animals on her own time and from commissions.

Despite this being in a medieval European-like setting, and around this Era stuffed toys wouldn't have been invented yet, they coincidentally are! Because when you have a society full of clowns, you naturally make more fun things to do.

And that's just what Belle intends to do this time around, have fun!

(And if she can... avoid the OMC!!)

#Villainess AU #sunnytimetown #sunny day jack #sdj au #sunny day jack oc #sunny day jack x mc #sunny day jack imagine #sunny day jack fanfiction #duchess choice #fantasy #reverse harem #otome #my fics

20 notes · View notes

purpleheartskies · 2 years

Text

"Get out of here... All of you."

Whenever I see this scene outside the CK dojo of Robby telling them all to leave, I just think of how incredibly lonely Robby is. No one, absolutely no one, has ever truly been on his side.

I know Robby is judged for choosing Kreese in this moment, but I think Robby did this because Kreese was the safer option. By "safer", I mean safer for Robby's heart. His choice was never about the dojo war or picking a side. It was about himself and what was best for him then. It's really painful when you know from experience that the people who you care about and love don't care about you and love you the same way back.

It's important to note that neither Daniel nor Johnny had warned Robby about Kreese and the war he was waging. The day before, Daniel had told Johnny that Kreese had made it crystal clear that he is everyone's problem. But Daniel and Johnny never even considered that Kreese would go after Robby. That just shows how much they don't consider Robby as part of "everyone" and how insignificant they believe he is in general, or atleast to the dojo war. And the only knowledge that Robby had of Kreese had been what Daniel had told Robby about Kreese being Johnny's worst teacher. But, Kreese had been one of only three people to visit Robby in juvie, and Kreese's advice had helped Robby survive in juvie all alone, with no other support, for months. Daniel never visited like he had promised he would, and Johnny's one visit caused Robby more pain, especially after he had allowed himself to believe that Johnny would make his scheduled/promised visit. In fact, when Johnny had seen Robby's bruise, Johnny just accused Robby of starting fights, not even caring to ask what had happened or if he was okay, and Johnny never went back to make sure that Robby was okay. Also, from Robby's pov, Johnny had just shown up here at the dojo and started wailing on Kreese after he suggested that they all work together. Robby was truly shocked when Johnny did that, so it's obvious Robby didn't know what the Cobras had done that had led Johnny there because Johnny obviously sure as hell hadn't come there for Robby. When Johnny had barged in, Johnny asked Robby what he was doing there, instinctively blaming Robby for being there, despite knowing that Kreese had made it clear that he's everyone's problem and knowing Kreese's manipulative and deceptive nature.

Fact is, Johnny had already chosen not to be there for Robby his whole life, for which Robby blames himself, and on top of that, Johnny had chosen Miguel over Robby completely. Even in this moment outside the dojo, Johnny stayed standing next to Miguel making it clear who Johnny has chosen. Johnny didn't offer to be by Robby's side to convince him to leave Kreese nor did Johnny come to Robby's side to keep him safe from Kreese because Robby chose to stay with him.

Daniel had passed harsh judgment/punishment on Robby 3 times without hearing Robby out first. Daniel had disowned Robby the first two times, and Daniel had ambushed him the third time. Yes, the legal situation had to be solved, but who does that to their young student who was so dedicated and diligent? Mr. Miyagi would have never done that to Daniel and Daniel would have never done that to Sam, but Daniel did that to Robby because he's Johnny's son. Also, Daniel apologized to Robby for disowning him a second time while Daniel was stalling him for the cops. Of course, Robby didn't believe his apology. Daniel didn't even give Robby a proper conversation about such a traumatic situation. Instead, Daniel just ended up making decisions for Robby on his behalf based on Daniel's own beliefs about what had happened.

Standing outside of that dojo, with Miguel by Johnny's side and Sam by Daniel's side, what did Johnny and Daniel have to offer Robby? A stable home? Unconditional love and support? Johnny especially should have always been providing those things to Robby, but Johnny has been purposely depriving Robby of those things since day 1. Daniel had offered Robby a stable home when he'd brought Robby into his home and later called him family, but in one fell swoop, Daniel had taken that back from Robby when he'd screwed up (by not taking Sam home after Moon's party) because Daniel thought the worst of Robby because he's Johnny son. Daniel hadn't given Robby a chance to explain that time either. How can Robby trust Johnny and Daniel to be there and be consistent? He needs assurance of stable and consistent support from the adults who claim to care about him and claim to believe he's a "good kid". Johnny and Daniel claim to care, but they've proven to Robby that they'll walk away from Robby when he screws up or when he needs them most, judging him by thinking the worst of him (and without even giving him a chance to explain), and in Johnny's case, he'll walk away from Robby without reason anyway.

Kreese claimed to care about Robby, but Robby didn't care about Kreese. Robby didn't even trust him. Robby didn't trust anyone anymore. Staying with Kreese had always just been a temporary solution until Shannon got out of rehab.

(And, seriously? What the hell was wrong with Johnny and Daniel just leaving Robby with Kreese after Kreese had tried to kill them? Like I said, they really do think Robby is insignificant.)

#cobra kai is robby's story #robby keene

70 notes · View notes

prince-of-elsinore · 1 year

Note

happy wincest wednesday!! asking folks similar questions on a central theme: what elements of sam and Dean's relationship, or things about themselves as characters, do you think are often done REALLY well in fic? any examples??

(or, salty edition: which elements are often done poorly, in your opinion?)

Happy Wincest Wednesday! What a good but tricky question. It's difficult--impossible, really--to generalize wrt fanfiction, when you consider the sheer breadth of works in Wincest fandom, from early fic to new and every niche of taste besides; and then there are my reading habits, which are hardly representative of fanfic at large.

All of which makes it much easier for me to think of elements often done poorly, imo 😅 (I do get to positives below the cut as well!) The biggest offenders that come to mind are:

for Dean, his lack of boundaries, possessiveness/entitlement wrt Sam, and overriding of Sam's--forgive me for the overused word--autonomy. These are all, to some extent, present in his canon character and important themes of the show, but I find they are often grossly exaggerated in fic. Of course a lot of this comes down to how one interprets canon; if you see Sam as brainwashed/Stockholm Syndromed by his brother from Carver era on, then I guess it seems natural to write a Dean who deviously manipulates Sam and rides roughshod over his sense of self, who rules the bunker with an iron fist. If, however, like me, you see Carver-era+ Sam as coming to terms with his relationship with Dean and how much he not only needs but wants to be with him, and if you view him as the primary agent in his own life decisions, and if you recognize how much (often tacit) power he holds in his relationship with Dean, that characterization becomes nonsensical. Dean does in some ways harden over the years, particularly with his anger, but he still carries an innate emotional vulnerability that is his need for Sam and fear that Sam can and will leave him (he's the only one who's ever walked away from family!). Simultaneously, in later years he has more trust in his partnership with Sam than ever, which includes, I think, trust that Sam will stand his own and be a counterbalance to Dean when need be. Anyway, all that is a roundabout way of saying that I don't think it's in character for Dean, especially a late seasons one, to seriously violate or disrespect Sam, and on the whole "possessive Dean" is a fandom invention.

for Sam, relatedly, it's writing him as too yielding and needy. While I appreciate a rare and earned moment of vulnerability, Sam, even at his most victimized, isn't innately as emotionally vulnerable as Dean for reasons mentioned above. He has a firmer sense of self, even if at his lowest he has serious doubts about his abilities and worth. Except in very rare moments, I don't see him as someone who willingly gives up control. When he seems to "go along" with Dean I see that as an intentional choice, not a weakness. He chooses his battles, and God help (hm, poor choice of words but you get it 😅) the person who tries to cross Sam Winchester when he's drawn a line in the sand, even--actually especially--if it's his brother.

But I don't want this post to be nothing but salt! Here are some things that generally, at least in the fic I read and like, people nail on the head:

Sam and Dean love each other! They mean everything to each other! Even when they're on the outs over something. They are ride or die. Their love is a love that can destroy and save the world <3

They belong together. Especially in later seasons, they are truly domestically committed (whether it's Established Relationship or not). There's no one else who gets them like they do, no one else they could ever feel so comfortable with. "It's always been you"--you know the rest!

They're brothers. First and foremost. Teasing, bickering, one-upping, gross-outing, sniping brothers.

I'm always pleased to see a version of this done well, and many of my favorite fics nail it: how scary and new everything is when crossing that line the first time. Whether you spin it towards fluff or angst, I love those moments of discovery--of each other's bodies, of their own pleasure--unease, awkwardness, giddiness or terror, when a sexual element is added to their chemistry. They know each other so well, but not like this. Everything is so familiar and foreign at once, and how much does it change things? Too much? Practically nothing? I love them figuring those things out together, and I'll never tire of reading it. Luckily there is a feast of such moments in Wincest fic 🍿

Okay examples of diverse fics that I think get all of the above right!

This Next Town by @nigeltde-fic (gentle, domestic late seasons, with a wonderful description of the stunning newness of their intimacy)

The Elko County Adventure by candle_beck (the brothers of it all! The underlying tension and fear and care and love!)

Carry Me Over the Sky by killabeez (for an angstier take--the pure need for each other and the horror of changing things irrevocably)

Baby Blue by edwardina (for a kinky take that may not be everyone's cuppa, but I was surprised by how well it sold it to me--this Dean is right on the edge of over-the-line possessive for me, but works I think because of how surprised he is by his own feelings, and how sturdy Sam remains despite his outlandish and dependent circumstances)

side two, track one by @zmediaoutlet (they're brothers, they're committed to each other already, and then all of a sudden something shifts and they're both in terrifying, thrilling new territory)

Thank you for the ask! Hope you enjoy the longer-than-expected answer and recs :)

#ask #wincest fic recs #fic recs #wincest #my meta #happy wincest wednesday #spn

22 notes · View notes

demetriandelibinaryboyfriends · 1 year

Text

The Tory Prom Parable: A Fix-It Fic in Polls: Part 3

Part 1: link

Part 2: link

And the winner is:

You walk out of the prom dress rental depot wearing this bombshell. Complete with a big scandalous slit in the side, just because you can! You have never felt more absolutely kickass in your entire life, not even when you nearly stabbed Samantha LaRusso to death with a spike bracelet that one time. Or tried to beat the crap out of her with nunchucks. Those are hard to top, but...well, this is a different kind of kickass. You sort of want to murder someone with poison lipstick tonight. How do the femme fatales in movies do it?

Robby is waiting for you in Sensei Silver's nice-ass rental car. God, this man has resources. Whatever the hell he was up to after the war, he made bank. But hey--who are you to complain? It's nice to get a taste of the good life now and again, even if you'd rather not know where all that cold hard cash is coming from.

Sensei Silver wouldn't like. Blackmail you something to do with your mom's dialysis, right? No, of course not. Sensei Kreese is a good guy. Really got you out of a fix. Any friend of his is also a good guy deep down, right?

As you strut over, Robby wolf whistles at you. He's just messing around, but you decide to play along a bit. This whole night is about pretending to be a dumb bougie rich kid who actually cares about shit like prom, so you might as well commit to the bit.

You do a dramatic spin, and show off some different angles:

WORK IT GIRL

Robby jokingly says you're a knockout. You jokingly ask if he brought any condoms. He jokingly says he did. You jokingly wonder how much you're actually joking.

***

Congrats--you have successfully made it to the prom! You park in an illegal spot because fuck the police. You link arms with Robby Keene and walk into the vapid, B.O.-scented high school dance in the power stance of the century. Maybe it's your egotism speaking, but you're pretty sure everyone turns to look at the both of you.

And there are fucking Miguel Diaz and Sam LaRusso, dancing all around the dance floor like they own the place. Having far too good a time. Fucken show offs. Ugh. Almost like they came here to participate in the popular teenage ritual of dressing up, drinking punch, and grooving to pop music! What losers.

But when you walk in and demand everyone else's attention...what choice do they have but to join in?

Oh nice!!! You already pissed them off!!! Well, that was easy. Should be all smooth sailing from here.

You decide to take a gander at the dance floor and get the lay of the land. Kyler, Piper, and some other Cobras came in a group. That's good--you can hit them up if Prince Traitor Boy and Princess LaRusso decide to start anything. Hawk is sulking in the corner with that lame-ass nerd kid he ditched y'all for. Hell yeah! He looks like he's already having a bad time, along with that Demetri loser. Karma for inconveniencing you, one of (if not the) most important people in the Valley. (Or at least you will be after you win the AVT.) Hawk's ex is also here, partying with a gaggle of girls. Good for her, honestly--she could do better than Hawk's backstabbing ass. Bitches with no dojo loyalty get no bitches.

Some generic Top 40s dance hit comes on. Robby offers you his hand, and you take the floor. Time to be the most obnoxious pair at the West Valley High Junior Prom!

And...damn. This kid can groove. He spins you like it's second nature. He waltzes to and fro with almost perfect rhythm. When you follow his lead, you manage to move in perfect sync, despite having practiced dancing maybe twice in your life and also wearing high heels longer than Hawk's d*ck.

You put your leg around him and yank him toward you, showing off your fine specimen of a leg to the dance floor. Damn right, everyone wishes they had legs like yours!

And--oh, shit! Now he's lifting you clean off the floor! This kid is stronger than he looks, damn. And now he's dipping you like he's been practicing dipping women every night for his entire life???

Okay, that was kinda hot.

No, no, bad Tory. This is a fake date meant to prove a point and aggravate Sam LaRusso and Miguel Diaz. You're doing evil petty revenge--the last thing you need to do is catch feelings for your partner in crime.

Remember what happened last time you caught feelings for a boy??? That's right--he got kicked off a balcony!

By...the same dude who is now your prom date, actually.

Huh. Now that is the height of irony.

Speaking of Miguel, though! It's around this time you decide to check up on what him and his snooty girlfriend are doing. Surely still watching your dance routine in aghast horror, disgusted but unable to look away, right?

Wait, where'd they go?

You notice Robby also scanning the room with a furrowed brow, apparently experiencing the same confusion. He looks at you for answers, but all you can do is give him an agitated shrug.

"Let's check the punch table," he says. Right, yeah. They're probably stuffing their faces with free snacks. How lame. People as rich as Moneybags LaRusso should never be allowed free snacks!

Off to the punch table you go! But alas, no sign of your least favorite couple of all time. You and Robby begin a thorough search and inspection of the prom venue, leaving no hallway unchecked, no storage closet unopened, and no tablecloth unlifted.

People really gotta learn it's useless to hide from you. LaRusso sure tried at the arcade, and how did that turn out for her?

Maybe if you can get that Demetri kid alone, you could totally team up with Robby and break his arm again. He'd just be the Broken Arm Kid forever and no one would ever hire him! Bonus points if you do it in front of Hawk like "hey, remember when you did this that one time? Good times, right?"

How those two boys swept all that shit under the rug is beyond you. If someone broke your arm, you'd probably just kill them as soon as you got better. Eh, you avoided juvie once--you can do it again.

"What are you smiling about?" Robby asks. A little teasing, but genuinely curious.

It suddenly occurs to you that fantasizing about re-breaking a kid's arm is probably...not a great look. Whoops.

Like Robby is down for evil prom revenge and all, but he might draw the line somewhere. Who knows.

"Oh, I'm just reveling in the fact we scared them into a corner somewhere," you tell Robby.

But you double-check and triple-check and quadruple-check every last corner, and...no sign of Cheater Diaz and Princess LaRusso.

It appears they bounced!!! Unfortunately, since this is a fix-it fic, other characters besides you will also be acting in-character and not like they were replaced by cheap imitation doppelgangers who behave completely fucking differently. Which means, of course, that when Sam and Miguel see the people who attempted murder on them twice and paralyzed and nearly killed them, respectively, they're going to want to haul ass out of there as quickly as possible. Since, you know, a panic response would realistically take over and overpower any desire Sam and Miguel have to "show you up."

Uh oh. You definitely forgot to account for the fact that your targets could just fucking leave. And now you're at a dumb high school dance with no one to harass. This is awkward.

But what can I say? Did you really think they were going to just stand around and glare at you all night, without even moving to the other side of the dance floor to try and avoid you? That wouldn't make any sense.

Well...if you want to know where they went, exactly, Hawk and Demetri might know. Except the one problem with asking them is that they both fucking hate you. And Robby. So that's not going to work.

You could try asking Hawk's ex, it's just be uh. Really fucking awkward, because Moon is friends with Sam and probably remembers the whole spike-bracelet-and-nunchucks ordeal. So it's doubtful she'll want to help you out either. But you've got a better chance with her than with Hawk and Demetri, that's for sure.

15 notes · View notes

jinkieswouldyoulookatthis · 1 year

Text

Love Hurts (11x13)

So first off, Dean doesn't lie to Sam about how the Qareen appeared to him (hooray for honesty!)...

Dean: It was Amara Sam: That surprise you? Dean: That doesn’t surprise you? Sam: Honestly? Dean: Honestly? You seriously think the sister of God is my deepest darkest desire? Sam: She isn’t? Dean: No! She can’t be! Sam: Why not? Dean: Why? Because if she is that means that I’m… Sam: Means you’re what? Complicit? Weak? Evil? Dean: For starters, yeah Sam: Dean, do you honestly think you ever had a choice in the matter? She’s the sister of God, and for some reason she picked you and that sucks, but if you think I’m gonna blame you or judge you… I’m not. Dean: You know that I want her ass dead. Sam: Yes. Of course. And I know you’ve also probably beaten yourself up a hundred times over it, but where has that gotten us? Just how bad is it? Dean: Standing here right now, every bone in my body wants to run her through. Send her back to that hole she crawled out of. But when I’m near her, I don’t know. Something happens and I can’t explain it, but to call it desire or love… it’s not that. I’m screwed man. We wanna kill the darkness. We need to kill the darkness. And I don’t think I can. I’m sorry to do that to you, ya know, but when it comes right down to it… Sam: I got it Dean.

Okay, y'all I just love these two deeply fucked up guys so much. This entire scene just reads weird, like, really weird. And yeah, I know, I know, but just watch it, watch them. Pay attention to their body language and looks. Something is just not quite, you know, I know you know. Like, canon is of the utmost importance, hold it. But there are these gaps in the canon that Sam and Dean just bleed through. The too close, enmeshed thing that these two have got going on makes this not read like Amara is somehow a romantic interloper, but it also doesn't NOT read like that. This scene is Sam telling Dean that it is okay if Dean can't stop the Darkness because Sam will do it if Dean can't, that he's got his back... always. That's what this is, but it just, there's just, there's hints of other flavors there, you know?

Anyway, this show makes me crazy.

#spn 11x13 #gencest #weirdcest #because what even is this whole thing

13 notes · View notes

sortasirius · 1 year

Text

I knew it was going to be painful, but this episode just gutted me all over again.

Spoilers for TLOU Episode 5

Making Sam deaf was such a powerful choice. It makes him simultaneously more reliant on Henry and makes Henry more fiercely protective of Sam.

The added background was perfect in my opinion, it was just enough to help us learn more about them, while still giving us plenty of opportunity to learn things about them through Joel and Ellie.

"He's scared because you're scared" and then Henry pretending not to be scared for Sam. Yeah. I'm crying again.

And then the "this place is ugly" and Henry pulling out a huge bag of crayons and coloring on the walls with him? This Henry is a lot softer than the Henry in the game (similar to Joel) and I think it works so well, especially because Sam's younger than Sam in the game.

The Super Sam paint

"He always sounds like that, he has an asshole voice" Ellie reading him to filth with a gun to her head LMFAO

Joel giving Sam the piece of paper GOODBYE

Really masterful job teaching the audience the term "collaborator" through Joel, especially since it's world-specific language that isn't in the game.

Sam's laugh <3

The whole thing with Kathleen and refusing to forgive...hmmmmmmmmmm much to think about (cough cough Part 2)

Joel's little head shake when Ellie pulls the gun out of her pocket instead of her backpack...I am obsessed with them.

The entire scene in the tunnels, the way it was straight out of the game was everything to me. The paint on the walls, the goal paint, Savage Starlight, and, of course, the Danny and Ish drawing, and it being an exact replica of the drawing you find in the game.

It is unbelievable to me that they made Henry and Sam's story even sadder. Henry's put in an impossible situation, backed into a corner to either let his brother die of cancer or become a FEDRA informant against the resistance. And he chooses his brother. I can't say I would have done any different.

I also live how they basically told the audience point blank "Every single character in this story is morally grey. Everyone is a villain in someone's story." Hmmmmm excellent setup for a certain Part 2.

I also love how much more vulnerable Henry is in the show than in the game. He's not a hardened survivor, he's a kid who made an impossible choice to save his brother, and he will happily rely on Joel if Joel lets him.

The neighborhood is such a setpiece, my stomach literally dropped when I saw those houses because I knew what was coming.

"Do you trust me?" BYE I LOVE THEM

Combining the bridge and the neighborhood was a great idea.

"Maybe he was supposed to die." Bitch. Maybe your brother was supposed to die. Consider that.

The infected are so much more intense, the way the runners swarm, the way clickers can hear every tiny sound, and then there's the fucking bloater. It's much more frightening than the infected in the game, probably because the game actually had to be beatable lmao.

Ellie is so important to me, I love her so much.

I'm really glad Sam showed her, even though I knew that the blood medicine wouldn't work, I'm glad he didn't have to be alone.

I think that Henry and Sam's death scene in particular was one of the only things in the entire game that I wanted to remain almost exactly the same in the show, and would have been disappointed if there were huge changes. It, to me, remains a triumph in the first game. Their deaths are jarring, completely unexpected, and with no closure, and I think that it had to remain the same.

Neil has said that they would take a look at what they could change and if it felt better, they would change it, and if it didn't, they would leave it alone, and I'm glad they left it alone.

"I'm sorry" on his grave. This adds a really interesting layer to Ellie's journey. She already feels guilty for Tess and (unbeknownst to the tv audience as of now, Riley) but now she feels guilty for Sam too, and that her immunity couldn't save Sam.

There's so much that I love about this episode, but in particular I love how much more richness Lamar and Keivonn brought to already beloved characters. I loved their relationship, and how much softer Henry in particular was, and I loved how Sam looked up to Ellie, how he trusted her with that secret and his fears.

It looks to me like we're going all the way through fall in the next episode, it's going to be painful to wait nine days.

Another absolute triumph of a tv episode, Craig and Neil once again owe me for therapy.

#spoilers #tlou hbo #liveblog

10 notes · View notes

spaghettificationandpretzels · 1 year

Text

The Reaper and the Death Angel Snippet 5 - The Lesson I

Takes place over parts Part 58, Part 59, this on meant to be one chapter but it's getting super long, and I want to do that what this means from the story justice. This chapter is chock full of some really important information and is the start of the Club changing for the better so strap in for a long read.

Series Masterlist

Part 59

Contains: Discussions of war and combat, angst, hurt/comfort, character growth, fluff. This is not beta read and may be full of mistakes.

7.9K words

Comment if you want to be tagged/removed or follow #the reaper and the death angel.

“The greatest victory is that which requires no battle.” ― Sun Tzu, The Art of War

Training: Day One

"Hello all and welcome to lesson number one of your month long training course. Today's first lesson is about force multiplication it's basically why you're here."

You looked around the room and smiled, they all came, "as part of this you have been given reading for the next two days of lessons, a show of hands who has done it?"

They all raised their hands, "great, there will be a paper test after every class, it will only be hard if you are lying to me. The reason you are only being given reading two days ahead is a lesson in itself; you rarely have two hours to prepare when things go wrong, let alone two days."

You looked at Sam, who gave you a slight nod, you had agonised over how you were going to handle this since Jax told you everyone was going to show up. "Anyone who has been to any of the other classes where I teach is going to be disappointed in my teaching style here. I am not going to be nice until everyone, and I mean everyone, proves they are going to do what has been asked of them."

They seemed worried, "while you won't have me for every class, I am running this course and have told all other instructors the same. They will be reporting back to me every twelve hours. Fail, misbehave or act ungrateful and I will know and you know what happens then."

You stood at the front with your arms crossed, "what is force multiplication?" Opie's hand went up, "yes?"

He swallowed, "doing something that makes the team better and able to get tasks done with less people."

You smiled, "that's what I wanted to hear, good work Ope. You have two choices for a reward a collective or an individual reward, pick one please."

"Collective."

You walked to the desk and handed everyone a sheet of paper, "extra information for another class, I have no idea which one, each sheet is different." You leaned against the desk, "who can tell me why force multiplication is important?"

Bobby raised his hand and you nodded for him to answer, "the stuff.."

You cut him off, "I didn't ask why your reading said, I asked you. Now, why is force multiplication important? Someone else please." Kozik's hand shot up, "yes, what's your answer?"

"If only one person knows how to do something, then it's easy to take the whole team down. Force multiplication is about making sure everyone can help when shit goes wrong."

You smiled, "wonderful, collective or individual reward?"

Kozik didn't need to think, "collective, please."

You nodded, "great, when one of you fucks up, only that person will be running laps. Kozik is correct, if someone does their homework on the Club, it would be effortless to bring it to its knees. If I were your enemy, I would take out Chibs first because you're all dead without a medic, hence why one of the classes you're all taking is emergency combat medicine."

It seemed the seriousness of the situation was setting in, "next, without the help of training, how can you achieve force multiplication?" More hands than last time went up, "Bobby, now is the time to redeem yourself for your fuck up before."

"Sharing what you know and asking for someone to teach you what they know."

You smiled, "correct, collective or individual reward?"

You watched him exhale in relief, "collective."

You offered him a soft nod, "there will be an extra ten minutes to talk before the test. Whether now, in two weeks or at the end, you should share what you have learnt in your individual classes. You won't be tested on it, it will be on your own time for the sole reason that you want to help your brothers."

You went behind the desk and sat down, "your extra ten minutes to talk about the reading start now. After that, find your number match on your piece of paper without speaking a word a pair up with that person. Once you're done, you are free to talk to your partner and only them while you answer the question on your papers. After that, you will hand them to me and I will grade them out of sixty, to pass you must get full marks, you have one more try after this."

You listened to them talk and you could tell they did the reading, after ten minutes, you got their attention again, "pair off without making a sound."

Phil raised his hand, "how?"

You fought the urge to roll your eyes, "you have fingers, I suggest you use them." You smiled as they figured it out and before long, they had finished talking and the papers were handed to the front of the class.

They watched with worry in their eyes as you graded them, but the worry was soon dispelled when you stood up with a smile, "congratulations, everyone passed. You have your physical skills assessments next then your day will be over. Try your best, there may be changes to your programs both positive and negative once your skill levels are more clear."

****

"How are they doing?" You were watching them from the observation deck run drills.

Derek sighed, "Billy's putting them through their paces, the young ones are doing fine but Tig and Bobby need a lot of work. You were right, they're dragging the others down. Chibs is fine, he seems to have retained at least a little of his training. Juice is good but again, you're right, he's not a good fit for fieldwork."

You sighed, "you think we take some of them off the basics and move some of them back to even more simple stuff?"

Derek rubbed his face as you flinched when Billy's fist slammed into Jax's face, "yeah. Your boy's good, he's the only one that's landing hits."

You nodded, "thank Sam. Alright, let's rip the bandaid off now. I'll look over their assessments and then I'll address them. This is going to be a bucket of fun."

****

You paced the room, "well, I can't say I'm surprised but these results are miserable, like this shit is going to keep me awake at night worrying. Jax, Hap, Opie, Chibs, Kozik, Juice and Rat you guys are fine, you don't need some of the more basic stuff, so you'll be given more advanced reading and far more difficult training. The rest of you are going back to basics. Everyone will be reassessed in a week."

Tig raised his hand, "what was so bad?"

You sighed, "just about everything, I don't have time to tell all of you and part of this is about building your independence. You are the study your own assessments, they are in plain English so you can understand where you need improvement and then you will be given the theoretical and practical tools to improve. No more handholding, adapt or die rings true in all things."

****

Training: Day Three

"Welcome to the anatomy of killing. Here you will learn how to kill, why an action ends life and how to do so effectively, efficiently and if need be, without getting caught. Today's first lesson is close quarter combat."

You could see the small smile on Happy's face as you walked to the middle of the room and slapped the strange looking dummy, "this is Bob. The reason this class costs so much is because of Bob, Bob bleeds, breaks and breaths like a real person. Bob is going to teach you how to kill. Show of hands who's done the reading?"

They all raised their hands, "I don't have a gun, knife or weapon of opportunity, what's the fastest way to kill Bob?"

Tig raised his hand and you nodded, "break his neck."

You smiled, "good, and how to I do that? Someone else please." Jax's hand went up, "yes?"

"Gain control of the head snap upward quickly to push the bones of the neck into the spinal cord while overpowering the natural reflex that a person has to protect their neck."

You smiled, "correct, tell me why it works? Someone else."

Bobby offered an answer, "the spinal cord is the body's information highway damage it close enough to the brain and the brain can't tell the heart to beat."

You nodded, "fabulous, I will demonstrate." You walked behind the dummy and lifted your hands to the head and, in one quick motion, snapped his neck. "Now, if I was in front of him, how would I do the exact same thing?"

Ope's hand went up and you waved for him to come up to the font, "show me." You held a finger up for him to pause and reset the dummy, "go for it." He moved his hands to the dummy and you stopped him, "more your hand closer to the edge of the chin, and your other one higher on the back of the skull, if you do it like that, you risk not damaging high enough and just causing paralysis."

He did what he was told, "like this?"

You nodded, "perfect." You blinked, "well go on, if you can't do it on a dummy you won't be able to do it on a person." He took a deep breath and the snap filled the room.

"Good job Ope, sit down. We're all going to go through this, I'm going to call you at random and pick a position and you're going to do it, we'll fix problems as they come. After this, we move onto choke holds."

****

You smiled, "ok class what's the takeaway?" Juice held up a finger, "yes Juicy, let's keep this streak going."

"Choking, cutting off blood flow to the brain or air to the body, is a waste of time. It takes too long and it's too easy for the other person to get away."

You smiled, "so it's better to do what, if you can't break a person's neck?"

You waved to Happy as his hand lifted off the desk, "damage the throat with a hard strike to cause suffocation."

You clapped, "we are making progress, if you take away anything, it's that you never beat someone to death. It's too messy, it take too long and leaves too much of you behind. You have a paper test after this then we move onto bladed weapons."

Billy walked in just as you finished grading, "Billy is here for our knives portion, he is very good with them."

Billy shook his head, "says you." He turned to the group, "I've never seen a person find an artery so fast or be so unaffected by being covered in blood. Y/n is a totally badass."

You shook your head, "back to your tests, I'm impressed, everyone is doing much better than I hoped. Now for the fun part, Bob is set up to bleed like a real person so before we get all messy, we're going to use dull knives coated in paint. Pair off and we'll start. Tiggy, you're with me for now."

Tig paled, "don't worry, we're not at hand to hand just yet. You'll be fine." You handed the tray of knives around, "the paint will come out when you apply pressure to the blade, it washes out so don't worry."

You stepped towards Tig, "who can tell me the four places where you want your knife to end up?" Tig made a face, "yes Tiggy?"

"Heart, lungs, spine into the brain, major blood vessel."

You smiled, "yep. You have to account for blood when using a knife, so if you want a bloodless kill into the brain is the only way to go. Into the brain and from behind and into the lungs is silent, with the others, at the least, you'll get some sputtering and at worst, you'll get screaming. When stabbing, focus on twisting and getting the knife as deep as you can, when slicing, focus on getting deep, cutting ragged and multiple slices."

You waved the knife, "I'm going to demonstrate the speed that you should try to aim for, Tig, run at me and try to get me." He took a deep breath and lunged, you grabbed his hand, slicing across his forearm then under his arm then flipping your hand to slice his throat, the paint running over both of you.

"Spin and show everyone. Can I get a time please."

Billy chuckled, "two seconds give or take."

You sighed, "that's alright, not my best time but not my worst. Tig, you can go pair off with Phil. Ok, so you're going to run at each other and try and repeat the pattern I used on Tig. Grab their knife hand, slice that forearm, then under the armpit like you're jointing a chicken then spin your hand to slice across the throat. The winners pair up with winners and looser pair up with looser until everyone wins and everyone is covered in paint. Once we're done here, you all get to have fun with Bob."

****

"Ok, this stuff is easy enough to wash off. Hit the showers and shove your clothes into the washers. You'll meet our experts in the ring in an hour for hand to hand combat training, and I've told them all your weaknesses so you're going to have a whole lot of fun."

You turned to Billy after they left, "thoughts?"

Billy smiled, "your man has more of a predator streek than you think. he's very good with a knife."

You nodded, "Jackson is far more capable than he thinks, I'm hoping this course helps him see that. He needs to realise that he's much more ruthless than Clay because Clay lacked a soul to keep him on the right path."

Billy crossed his arms over his chest, "and the others? Some of them didn't do too well."

You swallowed, "they'll shape up, they don't need to be perfect, they just need to keep themselves and their friends alive."

Billy huffed, "and the ones that need to be perfect? Jax and Opie have to be on top of everything."

You rubbed your face, "you don't think they're already going that way?"

Billy smiled, "you're right, I was just making sure you were seeing it?"

You made a face at him, "are you saying I'm a task master?"

Billy grinned, "yep."

****

Training: Day Four

"Hey Juicy, come in and sit we have so much to talk about." Penelope welcomed Juice into her office and pulled up a chair. "Have you done all your homework?"

Juice nodded, "yep, so what are we working on today?"

Penelope smiled, "what would you like to work on? You have four sessions with me all about different things, so it's your choice."

Juice thought for a moment, "fancy background checks."

Penelope clapped, "yay, we'll start with getting into people's work and home emails."

****

"You want to make sure that all points of entrance are watched, that's the easy part. The next part is to make sure that all climbable walls and fences are watched. In the end, T-M is not a castle but you need to try and protect it like one."

Kozik listened intently, "what about the cabin."

The man running the class, Kaden, was short but stocky, his chest wide and his arms like tree trunks are he walked around the room, "cameras are your first step, Juice will be learning how to keep the footage away from prying eyes. After that it's booby traps that alert you that someone is there, think tin cans on either side of a tree with fishing line."

Phil's hand shot up, "what about false alarms?"

Kaden sat on the edge of the desk at the front, "part of your job is to make sure all your friends know where they are, they will learn to be well aware at both the Clubhouse and cabin during our practical outings later on in the month. If they don't care enough to listen to you when you debrief them about security, then it's their fault when they cause issues."

****

Frank had his arms crossed as he addressed the group, "now, because some of you suck and some of you don't suck, y/n has split into groups. The ones with a number one on their sheets will go into advanced marksmanship with Billy, and the ones that have a number two will be down here doing basic marksmanship with me, you will all be expected to pass the advanced class by the end of the month, the ones that don't will have to continue to study after this month is up at your own cost."

Billy didn't take the same go get em tone he did with new recruits, they needed a bit of harshness, "if you get someone killed because you can't shoot or worse, you hit one of your buddies, you have done one of the worst things you can do, which is cause a preventable death. This will take us into early next morning as we have to cover night shooting as well. I don't want to hear whining, if you're tired, drink some coffee."

Tig's hand went up tentatively, "why am I in group two?"

Frank rolled his eyes, "because you're sloppy. I'd shut up if I was you, I'm teaching group two because I'm nice, if you want you can go into group one and be held to Billy's standard but he'll have you running laps until you puke at this rate."

****

Frank was done with the bullshit, "that's it, head upstairs and tell Billy I sent you. Not only will you have to work twice as hard to pass but he's mean."

Tig went to speak and Frank waved his hand, "I don't care that it's two in the morning and I don't care that you're tired, get up and go upstairs. If you want to fail I'm more than welcome to help you."

Tig took the flight of steps upstairs only to be greeted by half the Sons up there covered in sweat and the rest reassembling their M16s blindfolded, "let me guess, you pissed Frank off?"

Tig swallowed, "yeah."

Billy huffed, "ten laps around the room them drop into a squat and hit the target dead on, if you miss you'll be doing another ten."

****

You woke up to the sound of Jax dragging his feet as he made his way into the shower, you closed your eyes and listened as he shuffled around then he was flopping into the bed ten minutes later, "how was your day?"

He groaned, "I don't think I have been this tired in a long time."

You chucked, "Billy wasn't too mean?"

Jax shook his head and yanked you into his arms, "not to me but he was mean."

You sighed, "if they'd just listen and do what they're told, he would be a sweet as pie. You don't have any training tomorrow so even though you need to do your day job, take that time to rest."

Jax kissed your forehead, his words slurred with sleep as he spoke, "mmmm good idea."

****

Training: Day Seven

"How are you enjoying taking on so much at T-M?"

Sam sighed and gave you a soft smile, "well, we're still getting all the work done and people are still happy."

You nodded, "and the exercises you do go to, the ones for team building and planning do you think they're working?"

Sam took a seat and invited you to follow, "it's going much better than I thought, the guys are learning fast. By the end of this you're not going to have anything to worry about. Kip is enjoying not being a lackey too, I'm honestly happy to have some time alone with him, the constant civilian nonsense gets to me after a while."

There was a pang of sadness in you as he spoke, "yeah, I have to say adjusting back to back at home is a little harder than I thought. It might sound terrible but I'm kinda hoping they get a taste of what it's like, even for a little while, especially after today."

Sam gave you a sideways look, "you and be both. Look, The Ringer fucks with most people and you've given them a week to be ready. If they can't handle it then they need to turn in their patch."

****

As much as you wanted to be there, you knew you couldn't. Part of the exercise was the newness and the unknown. The masked instructors didn't even introduce themselves as everyone but Sam and Kip stood in the large training room.

They shared looks, unsure of what they were going to be dropped into. You made sure to pick people you didn't like, the ones you hired because they could do a job and not because they played nice with others.

"You wanna tell us…" The man at the front cut Opie off before he could say anymore.

"Shut the fuck up. I don't want to hear a word out of your mouth unless I'm telling you what to say. Now my boss," not y/n or Dr l/n. No, it was my boss, the gap between the men around the room and the men in the middle of it couldn't be more painfully clear. "My boss gave you a week to prepare for this, a week to harden yourself for this. Welcome to The Ringer shitstains, it's the closest to real combat you'll ever get."

****

"The closest to real combat you'll ever get."

The Ringer was the not so affection name for a single man obstacle course set up to be like the firefight from hell, complete with flashing lights and gunfire, barking dogs that sounded like angry hellhounds, women screaming and babies crying.

The whole thing was about staying cool under pressure, they had to complete a wide range of challenges, all the while, men were popping up and shooting at them. Each time they failed at a task, the noise would get louder and the flashing light would become more offensive.

You knew they all had to do it, so you did your best not to feel bad for them but you knew some of them would take it harder than others. If brotherhood was as important to them as they say, they'll support each other. Part of you was hoping it would make them realise how bad it can be, and an even darker part of you hoped they would be even more sorry for not stepping up and leaving everything to you.

And you were right, Jax came out of the room, barely able to hold himself together, he paused to throw up in a bin before sliding to the floor with his head in his hands. He could still hear the screaming as his hands shook, Derek's words about handling the stress and fear of war running through his head, "take a deep breath, you're here, you're alive, you will be fine."

He clenched his jaw and took one last deep breath before standing up, they needed this, they needed something that wasn't Charming and spats with other gangs. Jax had always felt something from Sam and, to a lesser degree, Kip and he could never quite put his finger on it, but that room made him realise what it was, the ability to stay unflinching even when the Grim Reaper was breathing down your neck.

****

They were happy it was over, or at least they thought it was, until the instructors showed up again, "I'm disappointed, your times and your performance, that was pretty standard, even good for civilians but what happened after is the worst display of comradery I've ever seen. Brotherhood?" The man spat, "your brotherhood is built on a wet paper towel soaked in shit. So I've made some changes and none of you are going home until we fix this mess."

Another man, the one who had stood at the back of the room with his arms crossed the whole day, "don't worry that much, everything you're going to do has been approved by our boss. If it makes you feel any better, she wasn't surprised that some of you lack the ability to support your brothers, in fact when we called her to tell you that this had happened, she could name the people that failed. No matter, there are things to be done and if you don't do them right, we'll be here until you do."

The man at the front gave them a sadistic smile, "oh and what y/n doesn't know is that if you don't fix it fast enough, you're all going back into that room until it sinks in, and we can make it much worse if we want to."

****

Jax was grateful for the hours that followed. Something clicked between the yelling and screaming and getting kicked in the ribs every time he dropped the ball as a leader. You must have given these faceless men information because the first chance they got, they were on them about their failings, Tig killing Donna, the Club letting Clay get away with so much, how much they relied on you and their lack of gratitude.

Jax realised that as time went on and they got better, the instructors got nicer, they became downright friendly when they saw they were genuinely working together. They didn't realise it had ended until the masks came off and the coffee and sandwiches came out.

"Enjoy your meal. After this, you see the doc to make sure we haven't hurt you too bad and then have exit interviews with the shrinks, then a group session. I suggest you participate to the best of your ability, it will be an official session so the person you talk to won't be able to tell anyone what you've told them unless you're planning on hurting yourself. I get that you might think it's stupid but if you leave here traumatised, y/n will never forgive herself and you've all already done enough to her."

****

You were waiting for Jax to get home, he sat next to you in the library with a groan, "are you ok my love?"

Jax blinked, "I'm fine, really sore but I'm fine."

You smiled sadly, "I'm sorry."

Jax waved his hand, "don't, that had to happen, it really did. We've learnt a lot. Everything being dragged into the open, Donna and Clay and how the Club has treated the women and the prospects, it all came out. I'm not going to lie, it's made things harder, and there's a lot of work that needs to be done before the Club is what my father wrote about but we've certainly learned what we were made of."

You placed your hand on his cheek and ran your thumb against his skin, "how did the shrink go?"

Jax sighed, "good, really good." He paused and something came over him, "they said that if we want, we can go back for as long as we need with no charge?"

You nodded, "yep and the fact that it's run through Anvil and the CIA means that it bypasses all the regular rules. Plus, I know all the therapists, I hand picked them and they work with not just our guys and other vets but other people who have seen a lot of horrible things. Are you thinking about going back?"

Jax swallowed, "not all the time but it would be good to have someone to talk to who......"

You could tell he was trying to find the right words, "who has no skin in the game, someone who has no idea who you are and can't judge because it's their job not to. That's the point of it and I think it's great you're getting real help."

Jax took a deep breath, "I'm not the only one, Juice and Ope are too. I don't know what it was about the last thirty hours but I can finally see an end to all this, a real end where my father can....."

His voice caught, and you pulled him into your arms, "hey it's alright. This is the reason this kind of thing is put in place. I wouldn't be as close to my guys if we hadn't had these moments ourselves. I'm going to go run you a bath and put on some chicken soup. If you want to talk more about what happened, then I'm here."

Jax smiled, "I have some good news. Juice came clean and told everyone about his father and what Roosevelt tried to do."

You raised your eyebrows, "the by-laws?"

Jax shook his head, "changed on the spot. I can't say that it's going to be like that with all the other charters but there's been a phone call and anyone who has issues can turn in their patch without any consequence. For what it's worth, most people seemed receptive."

You pressed your lips to his cheek, "I'm so proud of you. Now I'm going to run you that bath, I love you so much Jackson."

His smirk was back, "I love you too darlin."

****

Training: Day Ten

Things changed overnight, the days after The Ringer were like night and day. Your friends went back to being their friends rather than demanding teachers, then weren't being made to run laps or do a thousand push-ups every time they failed. Sure it was still rough but Jax wasn't desperate to call you every two seconds to soothe him.

Jax smiled as you brought in the box of cookies, if this was anything like the classes you taught elsewhere, this was going to be a bucket of fun.

"Well, I'm very happy that things can be fun now. I hate being an asshole. Today's class is going to interesting, it's also going to be a bit morally challenging so ask questions. From now on with me there's no need to raise your hand, as long as you're not talking over me or each other just let it fly."

Sam and Kip were there too, the smile of Sam's face making his cheek ache, he knew what was coming and he was looking forward to it.

"We have two classes today, both with me. You are very lucky to attend this one, and there's a reason you were only given homework for the second class of the day. This one is a program I created for training new CIA agents, it's not something we even hold here so you'll have to store what you learn today in your brain. There won't be a paper test either and it will be clear why as we got along."

You walked to the board and wrote the name of the class in big letters with the blue whiteboard marker, "welcome to practical predation. Firstly, the most important part of this is to remember if you use this to hurt innocent people or worse get what you want the easy way, you are not a human being, you are a thing walking around in a suit of human skin and no one can trust you."

You sighed, "being a practical predator is all about knowing what separates you from the animals and things in people suits. The moment we started using weapons our only true natural predators became each other. There is a very good reason humans scream when giving birth, we don't need to worry about a lion eating us."

They were fascinated, "all humans are predators and it's my opinion that we shouldn't be using it to describe the monster we read about in the news. Our ability to be apex predators has got us here, what you're learning here today is the end result of that. So Cain killed his brother with a rock and the sin of violence was born, it's in our nature if you like. The most important lesson to learn here today is how to spot the things walking around in suits of human skin."

Jax had a mix of arousal and fear swirling in his brain, he always had the feeling that other people thought they were trapped in a room with a lion when you were around, this just added to it.

"I am putting a lot of trust in you that you won't use this to hurt people, this class isn't taught to everyone at the CIA, there's an interview process to here."

You smiled and walked over to the box of cookies, "who can tell me what I'm most afraid of phobia wise?"

You waited, "no one? It's deep water. I, however, know everyone's phobias. Now that's because I'm your friend and I want to spare you from them but that's where class two comes in. Learning about a person's fear is important no matter what, if someone is your friend and you love them, then knowing their fears means you can be there to comfort them; ideally you can help them overcome them. Knowing your enemy's fears can help you destroy them."

You got a smile from Happy with that, "in a compassionate context, fear and something like addiction or trauma is not a weakness, but in this context it is and you need to know how to exploit that. We're talking subtlety here, you're not ripping a head off and sticking it on a pike unless you have to, and we'll talk about that kind of thing a little later. In most cases, you're simply going to dangle your knowledge over their heads and make a favour out of it."

You waved your hand, "someone give me a quick scenario."

Sam's voice filled the room, "ahh, someone who like to gamble."

You nodded, "if I knew they were in debt I would offer to help them out, I give them money but they don't pay me back in money because I would tell them that would be wrong, no, to pay me back they owe me a service. When you're doing something like this, you don't want to make it a one time thing, you want to keep helping them in different ways. The first time, hell the first few times you call in your favours make it small, in all cases, the best thing to do is make someone your friend and you can't do that by being cruel or unreasonable. Questions?"

"Is that how you get so many people to do things for you?" You could hear something in Kozik's tone but it was hard to say what it was.

You thought for a moment, "yes and no, again some of this is also a part of the next class. The relationships you've seen me build are from a genuine place. With Raphael Gallo I got his then girlfriend now wife into a life saving clinical trial, I never intended on calling in that favour but the longer I waited the more weight it held, the reason I asked must have been serious after waiting all this time. In the case of practical predation, you do intend to call it in and in that case, you say something like, 'I'm going to take you up on that favour when I need to, don't worry, I won't ask you to do anything you won't want to do, a self severing favour is still a favour.' By doing that you're letting them know that they don't need to off you to get out of it."

"What if they don't follow through?" Happy's question was reasonable.

"That's why you have to make what you're asking for seem good for their interests too. In writing my new book, I've had to work with men who think I shouldn't be able to vote, let alone be working and writing books. Many of them run these podcasts and I realised I needed to get onto one. Rather than ask hat in hand and end up facing three of them all by myself and being talked over, I made look like a properly structured debate would make them look good. Now take some time to think what they might use to get out of a bad outcome."

Opie's eyebrows wrinkled as he spoke, "they could say the moderator was biased."

You smiled and tossed him a cookie, "there you go, I told them we'd have two. One of my choosing and one of his. On top of that, I said that as part of it, the moderators would have to be upfront if they had any citations for bias. I chose someone who had none but he was limited, and the one he chose, while he shares the same benefits hasn't worked seriously for years because of all his bias citations. Anyone else?"

"He could accuse you of getting people to call up and give you easy questions." You reopened the cookie box and threw Juice one.

"You are very right Juicy. One of the rules is he can't take questions from people who call in all the time and I can't take them from people I know. This is where the manipulation comes in, I'm going to have Billy call up, and then I'm going recognise his voice and tell him to hang up. While it might be a bit dishonest and this part won't go into my book, the idea is to show that I am doing the right thing. What I then need to pick up on is when he does it and called him out in a way that either doesn't make him look bad or makes him look dishonest without a doubt. So who can tell me what the strategy is?"

Jax blinked, clearly deep in thought, "you identify and solve problems before they happen."

You threw Jax a cookie, "there you go, the best way to do that if you're not used to doing it is to get together and fire off ideas, as you get better at it you need less help but doing it on your own is not the end goal. Say the Tenth Street Killers came back and started causing issues and you had a way to help Pope out, you would sit down and do this process with him. Again you will learn the main reason why in the next class."

You could see the wheels in their heads turning, "so here's what we're going to do, I want everyone to think of a scenario where these skills can be used and we're all going to go through them together. After that, we'll talk about your presentation and then we'll move into the bloody stuff."

****

They learned quickly, the ideas flowing more freely as time went on, "alright, gentlemen. The next thing is how you figure people out because knowing your enemy is what matters the most. Firstly, for this to work, you may need to act like something you are not. You may need to act like a thing in a person suit to get you to want something out a real thing in a person suit. Think of it like putting on a costume, you are not a human, you are acting like one and you want to find other monsters just like you. That might mean you have to do things that make your skin crawl but understanding how to put on a mask and act like a monster is critical."

They shifted in their seats, "we have to remember that these skills work because you are using them for the greater good, if you don't let your morals lead you, they stop working because you don't have a leg up on the monsters."

"How the hell do we do all this?" You threw Kozik a cookie for his effort.

"Firstly, master impassiveness, no matter how bad shit gets, try and keep your face and body neutral. Listen more than you talk and watch, I'm hoping that those of you in the body language and communication class have shared what you know?"

You got lots of nods, "that all you need, you just need practice. I have to do it all the time in court when I'm giving evidence, I want nothing more than to punch the defence attorney in the mouth but I can't do that so I take a deep breath and I remember that giving unflinching, clinical information. Not because I don't care, but I know that when the prosecutor hands me a softball question, I can show them that I am angry and that helps the judge and jury see my side because I'm showing them that while I care, my caring doesn't take over. If you want to simplify it, emotions are deeply important, it's choosing when to show them that matters."

You sighed, "there's no real exercise that we can do now to help but from now on, start paying attention to people, you would be surprised what you can learn about someone by just observing them. Now onto the fun parts, how we can use violence to get what we want."

****

"You really did this shit?" Jax was having trouble thinking through the haze of amazement.

"Yep, and it works. What all this boils down to is 'don't fuck with me or you'll end up the same way.' You want to show people that it behoves them to not piss you off and you can't do that if you use violence willy nilly and a large part of that is having allies, if no one like you, then you end up dead. If you tell someone you're going to gut them and send their guts to their mother if they piss you off, then they piss you off, you have to do it so don't make a threat unless you are willing to follow through."

They shared a look and Happy chuckled, "you are hardcore."

You smiled, "thank you Hap. Now onto the boring part, we're moving on to the diplomacy class."

****

As this class always did, it moved from how to make allies to how to build better relationships, "I can understand that it can be hard to take this all in, you need to relearn how to be a friend and a brother and a son and a father and a partner. But it all comes down to first realising that you are a better person than you think you are, you can pick up on your loved one's emotions and you can help them with their problems, you just need to pay enough attention to know how."

"That sounds tiring." You sighed, you had a feeling Tig would struggle.

"It is when you're the only one doing it, but if you love someone, you do your best to put in the work. You have to look out for each other better than you have been because if the last ten days have shown anything, your biggest weakness is the lack of attention you pay to your friends. Just because you're big tough men doesn't mean you shouldn't be able to bawl your eyes out in front of your friends."

You could understand that this was hard for them, "if you don't want an enemy to exploit your weakness as a group, you have to have lots of strong bonds and know each other's strengths and weaknesses. One person's weakness is everyone's weakness so it's your job as their friend to build them up. You do that by realising that you are also human, you have your own failings and that they can also get your friends killed. Your only exercise going forward is to take the time to look inward and see where you can improve then start doing it."

****

Training: Day Fourten

"Alright, learn the grounds with your partner, then come back here." They walked off while Aden and Derek stood around and watched them.

Aden was amused, "how do you think they're going to do?"

Derek smiled, "someone won't pay attention to the security they put in place and they're going to get punched."

Aden laughed, "my money's on Bobby, that fucker does not listen."

****

"How's your mum and aunt?"

Happy smiled, "mum's MS is alright, it's progressing as slowly as it can. The drug y/n got her onto has been really good but we always knew it would only do so much. Right now it's about keeping her alive until a new one can come out. My aunt's fine, you know what it like."

Jax nodded, "and Eva, y/n says she's been having fun on your dates."

Happy smiled, "she's great, after all this is done, I'm going to learn how to raise puppies. I figured you would have a problem if I brought them into the shop."

Jax shook his head, "not at all, we could use something good anyway."

****

Juice pointed to the cluster of rocks and Tig followed his finger, "yeah, good idea. If you climb up I'll pass you all the stuff. You're sure this is legal?"

Juice nodded, "the cabin's property line ends about twenty feet that east, we can have as many cameras around here as we like. Come on, I'll show you how to put them up."

****

"Why does it need to be so loud?"

Phil shrugged and handed the cans to Chibs, "the cabin is pretty close by, we leaned in class that scary people is just as effective at ambushing them then as knowing the area."

****

"Help me lift that log over that way?" Opie followed Kozik as he showed him what he meant.

"You been having fun?" Opie was tired and the last fourteen days felt like one long marathon but he could see the light at the end of the tunnel and he was looking forward to reaching it.

Kozik grunted as they carried the log to block the track, "I am, everything fucking hurts but I'm having fun."

Opie chuckled, "and you're finally upstairs, you were such a shit shot I was bing to think you were blind."

Kozik shook his head, "I think Frank was getting sick of me."

****

Derek and Aden were wrong, as the day wound down and they settled into learning everything they could to protect the cabin, they moved on to the next step of patrolling the area. Jax did his best to listen to Phil about where he placed all the booby traps but he was tired and he had been walking about with Happy for hours. One missed them had him tripping a fishing line, and the sound of crashing filled the air.

The other came running and Phil looked at the scene before rearing his fist back and punching Jax in the face, he stumbled but didn't fall the reach up to his cheek if he was bleeding, "sorry man, I knew you said to be careful."

Phil huffed, "I worked on that for hours."

Jax raised his hands in apology, "I know. I'll help you put it back together."

Derek couldn't text you fast enough.

"Everything is great. I think it's finally settled in, they know what they're going now. I see no reason to keep sticking to the basic stuff."

You cracked an eye open and reached over to see why your phone was buzzing, the text making you smile.

"I'll give all of them the next two days off while I work it out. You think they'll be able to handle the changes?"

"Yep. Throwing them in the deep end has worked so far, why not keep it up?"

You rubbed your face, "you're right, make sure to print off all the new medical training, I'll give them a few extra days to study."

Derek sighed and looked out at the group, "sixteen more days and your life is going to get a whole lot easier."

You smiled, "I can't fucking wait."

Part 60

11 notes · View notes