𝑻𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝑳𝒐𝒚𝒂𝒍𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒔
—𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐱 𝐅!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 — 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 '𝐀 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰'? 𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐥, 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞 to you 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞.
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 — 𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐧, 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐥, 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐬. There may be more so please 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.
𝐀/𝐍 — 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 @the-slumberparty's 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐦𝐲 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 @mochie85'𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐂𝐮𝐭𝐞.
𝐒𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐅𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥 | 𝐈𝐭𝐞𝐦: 𝐏𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬
𝐀𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐳𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞, 𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲'𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲! ❤️
The summer festival is in full swing with laughter from both the young and the old bouncing in the air, mixing along with the screams of excitement coming from the patrons aboard the rollercoaster—the newest addition to the summer affair. Even several of the local small businesses join in on the rabble, a refreshing sight to see other than the food stalls and game posts that are a staple in the event.
It’s your third time this year in participating. Selling your baked goods amongst the other veterans and to your surprise, the line is much longer than the last, a craving instilled into your customers for your signature ube and coconut cupcakes. Such a treat has been in your family for years; passed on from your great-grandmother and down the line to you. And it fills your heart with joy to see the faces of your clients when they take that first bite.
You’re even lucky to have your stall set at the end of the row. Not as crowded as the ones found at the center and with enough space to accommodate the queue that’s slowly growing.
You grab another container from your cooler and set them neatly into rows in the display case atop your table. It’s not yet noon and you’re already down to your last two batches, ready to set the next ones. But Wanda is running late and you look at your watch to check the time, grunting in frustration yet keeping up the positive facade.
The little girl standing next in line calls your attention and you give her the brightest smile when you notice her face paint and the blue princess dress she dons. She orders a box of six cupcakes along with a bag of ube crinkles. The cuteness she displays when she counts her change on your table tugs at your heartstrings that you couldn’t help but give her a freebie; one of your heart-shaped cookies.
“Should you really be giving out free samples?”
“Should you really be running late?” You quip after waving goodbye to the little girl, turning around and crossing your arms over your chest when you face Wanda who stands with the cooler in her hands.
She gives you an awkward yet apologetic smile and you huff out a breath before pointing at the spot where she should place the plastic container.
“What took you so long?” You ask, showing her your obvious annoyance. “You were just supposed to pick up the cupcakes.”
“Why don’t you try loading that heavy thing in the car by yourself? It wasn’t easy.” She gives you a pout before focusing her attention on the next customer.
“I have. Countless times.”
“Well, it’s my first time.” She says while waving goodbye to the woman. “At least be gentle with me.”
You give her a pat on the back before tugging playfully at the end of her hair. “I am being gentle.” You say with a laugh.
Another customer comes by, ordering two boxes this time, and you busy in packing up their purchase while Wanda takes their payment. For the remainder of the morning, that’s all you both do—entertaining your clientele, packing up orders, and seeing them off with a bright smile on your face. But it soon fades as noon arrives, beads of sweat forming on the nape of your neck and dripping down your shirt as the temperature rises along with the sun.
Wanda asks to leave for lunch, asking you if you wanted anything from the neighboring stalls. You think twice about the decision, your appetite being non-existent as exhaustion completely takes over your body. But the aroma is not one you can ignore, the savory and fried wafting heavenly in the stolid heat.
Eventually, you cave; asking Wanda to grab you anything to eat but specifically request for a blue lemonade slushie from Rico’s stand.
Once the last of your goods are sold, you put out your ‘Be Right Back’ sign and drop down onto the folding chair with a heavy sigh. You grab your water bottle from inside one of the coolers and take a large sip, tempted to drench yourself in the cool liquid instead to stave away the heat. The work is tiring, you have to admit, but it definitely pays off.
“Oh, what time are you opening again?” A woman asks as she steps in front of your stand, eyes perusing the menu written on the small chalkboard. You immediately sit up and look down at your watch to give her the time.
“You can come back at around 1 PM. We’re just taking a quick lunch break.” You tell her to which she acknowledges with a nod and grabbing one of your shop flyers before walking off.
You slouch once again, pressing the cool bottle against your face while you rest. But your respite is once more interrupted when you notice in your periphery another figure standing by your stall.
“We’re just taking a quick break,” you begin to explain. “But we’ll be back at around—” but your words die on your lips when you see who your visitor is. “What are you doing here?!” You snarl and quickly stand from your seat, hissing when you accidentally hit your knee against the table.
It’s him! Your stalker!
You take a cautious step back, your fight or flight response coming to life.
“Be careful, cupcake.” A grin forms on his lips as he tucks a hand into his pocket. You see your face reflecting from the aviators perched on his eyes, covering them for anyone to see. But you know full well that he’s watching you intently like he shamelessly always does. “You wouldn’t want to hurt yourself.”
“How many times have I told you to leave me alone, you creep?!” Your voice raises an octave, feeling your heart race from anger and fear.
“I just stopped by to say hi. Is that so bad?” He says while tilting his head to the side, chuckling in amusement. “Besides, I wanted to see how you’re stall is doing.” He runs a finger against the surface of the empty display case then stops at the center, tapping on it with a fingernail, the sound taunting you.
“Can’t you see we’re sold out?” You openly express your displeasure of his presence, too riled up to even care if anyone is watching your exchange.
“That’s too bad—I would have bought a box for myself.” He hums then a chill runs up your spine when he sends you a smirk. “But then again, there’s only one kind of cupcake I’ve been wanting to taste and I believe that one is available.”
Your vision goes red at the vulgar comment he made and you don’t think twice about getting close and lifting your hand to finally give him a piece of your mind. But he catches on to you quickly and grabs your wrist, taking the other one when you raise it all the same. He pulls you closer, your face only inches from his, and you groan in as you struggle to pull away from his grasp.
“Do you really want to cause a scene here, cupcake?” He slithers. “Where so many can see how violent you are?”
“Let me go, you fucker!”
“Such a dirty mouth.” He tuts and moves to pull you further over the table, trapping your arms to your sides when he wraps an arm tightly around you. You move your face away when he reaches up and caresses your face, your eyes widening as he keeps you in place, his thumb rubbing circles on the apple of your cheek. “We’ll have to fix that soon or you can show me just how filthy that mouth of yours can really be.”
The edge of the table digs into your hips when he pulls you closer, inhaling sharply when he presses his nose against your temple and takes a sniff of your hair. The hand on your face moves once more, his thumb pressing against your lips. Quickly, you part your lips wide and try to catch it between your teeth. But he’s fast, pushing you away effortlessly and you stagger back, losing your balance and toppling over the metal chair that hits the back of your thighs.
“Tsk tsk. You’re so clumsy, cupcake.” he laughs.
“I’ve got our food!!” Wanda’s excited voice suddenly comes and you turn to face her, immediately running to her side as panic settles in your nerves once again.
“Wanda! Quick! Call the cops!” You say in a rush, clutching onto her tight. “Hurry!”
“Hey! Be careful!” She scolds and pries her arm away from you. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You almost had me drop an amazing burrito!”
“He’s—” You point to where the man once stood and take a step back in shock when you see him gone.
You look around frantically, scanning through the sea of people, and try to spot the light blue button-up shirt you noticed him wearing, even being cautious of any man that had their hair tied up in a bun.
But you don’t see him. Like he somehow vanished into thin air. Yet even with his sudden absence, you can still feel his palpable presence. You may not see him but you definitely know he’s watching you, like a predator would its prey, waiting for the right opportunity to attack.
“Who’s what?” Wanda asks as she sets the containers of food and drinks atop the lid of the cooler. “Why do you want me to call the cops?”
You look into her eyes, your own wide with fear. “He’s here, Wanda! He— He’s—” Your chest begins to constrict, feeling the air around you grow thin that you grab onto the neck of your shirt and yank on it hard in order for you to breathe.
He got closer this time. Touched you even. He’s never done that before in the years of him following you around, only stayed in his lane, and left as soon as you told him off. But now, it’s different—he looked more bold and more confident, your apprehension growing bigger and stronger that he would finally do something that would end up with you getting hurt.
“Whoa, babe.” Wanda coos as she places both of her hands on your shoulders. “Breathe with me, okay? Slowly.” She instructs and you obey, following her lead as she slowly breathes in and out, keeping your eyes locked in her green ones.
Your anxiety eventually dies down and your chest feels somewhat looser from the exercise. Yet the memory remains at the forefront of your mind, his touch lingering on your skin. She guides you to sit, Wanda kneeling in front of you and you flinch when she places a cold plastic cup between your hands, making you look down at the yellow slush that’s already starting to melt.
“Now. Tell me what happened.” She prompts. “What got you all worked up?”
You swallow thickly, unsure if you should say anything to her at all. As terrifying as the situation is, you’ve kept it all to yourself, especially after the local police department turned you away, telling you that they can only do something if threats of physical harm have been made. But you couldn’t produce anything, not even a photo nor a name for them to search—ultimately deeming your situation a nuisance.
But the sincerity you see in Wanda’s eyes as you rethinking your decision of bottling it all up again. You may have only known her for a short period but you feel the bond you have forged with her to be strong. If there’s anyone you can trust, it would be her.
With shaky hands, you set down the now melted slushie on top of the cooler and hold onto her hands tight, Wanda doing just the same with her attention solely on you. Her grip is strong, firm, and you feel the tension coiled around you slowly seep away.
Taking a deep breath, you begin. “I have a stalker.”
The information seems to take her off guard, shock evident on her face. But she immediately schools her features and you take the gentle squeeze she gives your hands as a sign to continue.
“He’s been following me for years now but he hasn’t done anything drastic.” A lump forms at the base of your throat as you’re transported back to the event earlier—how he grabbed and touched you, coming closer than you ever expected. “Until now.”
“What do you mean?” She asks. “Have you told the cops?”
“I did, but they refused to look into it further. I provide them any of what they were asking.”
“You mean to tell me you don’t have a picture of this man?”
You shake your head.
“How come? If what you say is true and he’s been stalking you for a while now, shouldn’t you have already grabbed some evidence at this point?”
Her question comes off as accusing, making you think that maybe telling her wasn’t such a good idea. Still, you push on and refuse to be blamed for the stranger's inexcusable actions.
“You don’t understand, Wanda. When I see him, or when I know he’s watching me, I panic—I don’t think about taking my phone and snapping pictures.” You explain, hoping she would understand your reason. “All I could think of at that moment is to run away and hide.” Tears begin welling in your eyes and you release her hands, gripping down on your own to try and stop your emotions from boiling over.
“Okay—okay,” Her voice is soft as if she’s talking to a wounded animal while her hand caresses your arm. “Uhh, if you don’t mind telling me, what else has he done? Just watching and following?”
“Just?” You ask in disbelief.
“No, no—” She sighs and shuts her eyes tight as if trying to grasp the right words to say. “What I meant was, has he ever tried following you to your place? Like to your door or something? Any break-ins that happened?”
You shake your head.
Wanda hums in thought and you startle when a wide smile forms on her lips, her hands taking yours once again.
“I think I can help you.” She says with much enthusiasm.
“Huh? How?”
You watch as the blond man—Steve, if you remember his name correctly—installs the security camera by your bedroom window and a couple more in the living room, your kitchen, and by your bedroom door. When Wanda first proposed the idea, you found it a little too intense but after another incident the same night you came home from the festival, you immediately called her up and agreed to her proposal.
He showed up once again, this time, standing in wait at your parking spot. He was still wearing the same outfit as the one you saw him in earlier that day—a light blue button-up and white tank top hidden underneath. His brown hair was worn in a bun and the facial hair was partially trimmed, another characteristic you took note of as well as the gold chain hanging around his neck.
He looks very much well off, like a respectable business owner of some sort and it joggles your mind, thinking, that if he is what you suspect him to be, as to why he’s posing such a creepy disposition. But then again, one shouldn’t judge a book by its cover and for all you know, this could simply be a facade, a character he’s made of himself to throw you off.
He never said or did anything to further add to the tension that was once more building in your veins. He only stood there for a whole minute and while you sat frozen in your driver’s seat. You could never forget the smirk he had on his face then, as if he was taunting you, challenging you to get out of your car. But he soon waved his hand, amusement heavy on his face before walking away.
You waited a little bit more before getting out of your car, even leaving the empty coolers in your trunk as you ran in haste towards the elevator, afraid that he would show up once more. But it’s only when you got into your apartment and latched all the locks in place that you realized you forgot to take his picture to give to the authorities. Another missed opportunity, another loss on your part, and victory on his.
That’s when you called Wanda and told her of what happened, agreeing in an instant to her proposal for security.
The sound of the electric drill fills the silence of your apartment. As the last screw is set in its place, with Steve admiring his handiwork and then tucking away his tools, you slowly feel the sense of relief drape over you.
You turn to face Wanda, wanting to thank her for the effort she’s putting into keeping you safe. But the look on her face has you reeling back, noticing how her eyes are focused intently on the main camera that faces your bedroom.
“Wanda?” She blinks and looks at you when you call her name. “You feeling okay?”
“Yeah—why?”
“Nothing.” You shrug and walk towards her, giving her arm a gentle poke. “You looked pretty serious for a while. Is something on your mind?”
“Indeed. Is something wrong, Wanda?” Steve echoes your sentiment and you’re slightly taken aback by the questioning, somewhat castigating, look on his face.
She seems to remember herself and the seriousness that once took over her fades almost in an instant, a wide smile pushing the corners of her lips upward. “Oh, it’s nothing.” She laughs and laces her arms around one of yours. “Just hoping that this would help ease your situation, babe.”
“It definitely will,” Steve interjects, his voice strong and certain. “These are high-quality equipment that will be able to track and capture every moment inside the apartment and outside your window. And it was created by my very good friend, Vision. So, I am certain there would be no flaws.” The grin on Steve’s face is wide when he says the name, and you look at Wanda when she gasps, her hold on you tightening.
“Vision?” You repeat in question. “You know him?” You ask your friend.
“Uhh, yeah—just some guy Steve introduced before.” Her voice quivers and she releases you, taking a step forward towards the tall blond. “How is he? Is he doing okay?”
“He also said to not forget about installing the app on her phone so she can check in on the cameras from time to time,” Steve adds, ignoring Wanda’s query altogether, and walks towards your front door. “If there is nothing else, I’ll be on my way.”
“Thank you—uhh, Steve, for all your help.” You trail after him and see him out the door. “Is there any way I can repay you?”
“Just install the app.” He demands as he looks at you with a raised eyebrow, before looking in Wanda’s direction who straightens at his attention. “We’re counting on you, Wanda.” He adds before walking out of your apartment.
You make a face as you shut the door, heading over to the couch where Wanda sits and taking the space beside her.
“What’s up with that dude?” You groan, shaking your head to ease off the weird encounter. “Is he always that bossy? Where did you even meet him? And who’s we? Who’s counting on you?”
“Oh, Steve’s just really a no-bullshit kind of guy.” She explains then rummages through her bag when a ping sounds from within. “He’s always been like that—where’s your phone?”
The sudden switch in the conversation has you frowning, looking down at Wanda’s hand when she holds it out to you. You notice how her cheerful demeanor was almost nonexistent as soon as Steve walked into the apartment. She was quiet and pensive and you wouldn’t have noticed the strain in her if she didn’t squeeze your arm when he mentioned that stranger’s name.
“Babe, phone?” She asks again, quite eager this time and you relent, taking the device from your back pocket and handing it to her.
She quickly takes it and then hands it back, shaking the phone as she silently asks you to unlock it. Once you enter the code, she grabs it back and stalks away from you, holding her own device in her hands and typing on yours vigorously. As soon as she finishes, she lets out a relieved sigh, the smile back on her face, and stalks back to where you sit.
“There. Now be sure to keep your phone on at all times or the cameras won’t work.” She instructs, taking the seat beside yours and leaning back against it. “From what Steve told me, the power of the security system relies solely on the app. So, if you want to catch your stalker, you gotta keep that baby on and with you at all times.”
It’s the first time you’ve heard of such technology. Aren’t security cameras powered by electricity? Why would they stop working if your phone died? You should have asked for more details from Steve before he left but that brusque front he was showing already made you feel like you were intruding—even if he was the one who entered your home.
So you ask Wanda.
“Why would my phone power the cameras?”
She simply shrugs and grabs the remote of the television, turning it on and flicking to select your streaming service. “I don’t know. It's just what they told me—what do you want to watch?”
There it is again. We. They. Who are these people that Wanda refuses to tell you of?
“Who’s they?” You ask.
“Bucky and—” She pauses and sits up, as if aware of what she said. “I mean, the guys selling it. This is still a prototype, you see, and I offered them your place as a testing ground.”
“Eh? Testing?” You frown and look up at the cameras. “But what if it doesn’t work?”
“Trust me, it will. We’re friends, right?” She says confidently, flicking through the options once more on the television. “Would I ever lie to you?”
Weeks have passed since your last encounter with your stalker—which, as weird as it sounds, you find very unusual. After being so used to his intruding presence, you’d expect him to show up in the places you expect him to be; outside your apartment building or even across the street from your bakeshop, waiting for you to close up.
But so far, he’s been missing and you can’t help but feel a slight sense of relief. Still, you continue to keep your guard up. Still looking over your shoulder and cautiously scanning your surroundings when you drive or walk back home. He could simply be toying with you, making it seem like he’s vanished then surprise you one day in the most horrific way.
Even so, you’re thankful for the peace and cling to the hope that he’s finally given up. You even check the camera feed religiously, just to be certain of his absence. And what you see, or rather, what you don’t see has you smiling and encourages you to go on with your daily activities with ease.
The bell of the bakeshop chimes and you smile from behind the counter when you see Wanda strutting in, a popsicle in her hand. You’re about to greet her when she tosses one towards you, grabbing it with clumsy hands and frowning at her unexpected yet tasty surprise.
“Couldn’t you have just given it to me properly?” You chide. “Like a normal human being?”
“Where’s the fun in that?” She laughs and leans her hip against the counter from the other side, looking around lazily. “Dead time?”
“Pretty much.” You unwrap the popsicle from the foil and give it a tentative lick, a smile gracing your lips at the taste. Mango. “Lunchtime just finished. Besides, I think the heat is making people stay in their homes.”
“Why don’t you close up early today then? My friend is throwing a party at their place and you should come! We can drink to celebrate!”
“Party? Celebrate?” You ask while giving her a confused look. “What will we be celebrating?”
“Your freedom, of course! Your stalker hasn’t shown up in a while, right? Isn’t that worth celebrating?”
“I guess—but what if he shows up while we’re outside?” Worry slowly starts trickling in. It’s different when you’re doing mundane things, you’re more vigilant, more aware. But with the presence of alcohol? You’re sure to be in a more vulnerable state. “I don’t think it’s a good ide—”
“Relax. It’s perfectly safe.” The smile on her face is wide, her lips tainted pink from the popsicle she licks.
“I don’t know.” You frown, feeling uneasy with the invitation. “Can’t we just celebrate at my place? Just the two of us? I’m not really comfortable going somewhere until I’m sure that man is gone.”
She sighs, disappointment evident on her face though you see her think as if considering your counteroffer. So you try to latch onto that hope and add another enticing detail that you know she wouldn’t be able to resist.
“If you say yes, I’ll give you a box of my cupcakes every time you ask for some.” You say with much conviction. “Free of charge.”
Her eyes sparkle then and you believe she’s caught your bait. When she rolls her eyes and gives you a nod, you give her a wide smile, licking on the popsicle that’s already started to melt in your hand.
“Alright, fine.” She agrees. “But I’m choosing the drinks for tonight and you can’t say no to that.”
You laugh. “Deal.”
You laugh as Wanda dances along to the music playing in the background, walking over to the kitchen to pour both of you a glass of the vintage she brought. The pop of the cork surprises you even as you expect it and a smile forms on your lips when the bouquet of the wine kisses your nose. Fancy stuff.
Wanda was right about relaxing for it has been a while since you’ve had the time to really let loose. With the stress of running your business along with the fear that your stalker brought, your life has been in such a knot that truly, you’ve forgotten how to live.
You hand Wanda her glass and she grins widely when she accepts it. You lift your own glass to your lips and take a tentative sip, your eyes widening in surprise when Wanda tips the glass upward, almost choking as you drink the entire glass.
You gasp for air when she pulls away, giggling when you glare at her and she looks back at you, feigning innocence.
“What was that for?” You whine. “I almost choked!”
“But you didn’t.” She grins and sets her glass down by the pizza boxes. “I’m just helping you let loose.”
“Why aren’t you drinking yours?”
“I’ll have mine after I have food. And besides, you need it more than I do.” She laughs and takes a seat on the couch, sitting down beside her with a pout when she pats the space next to her.
You lean forward to grab a slice from the box then stop when your head begins to spin, feeling it grow heavy that you clutch on it, confused as to what is happening. You groan at the discomfort that slowly envelopes you and you feel a sense of panic when your vision blurs, making you blink hard twice to try and push it away; but it’s no use.
You groan when you hear Wanda say your name, looking over to face her but not seeing her. You try to speak, to call out for help, but no words come from your throat. Helplessness and confusion plague you as you feel your body slump over the chaise.
What did Wanda do?
“Sorry..” You face the direction from where you heard the voice but your eyesight has already failed, only seeing a jumbled blend of colors.
A hand on your arm has you flinching and you moan when you feel another caress your cheek. You squint to attempt once more to see what Wanda is doing but what comes into your view has you freezing in terror. For it’s not Wanda holding you in their arms but the man you’ve been fearing for years.
He’s finally got you and you have no way of escaping.
A rocking sensation stirs you awake and a moan trickles from your lips. Your head still feels heavy and your body aches as you slowly resurface from the void that has taken over you. Confusion runs wild, and rightly so, for you don’t recognize where you are; the concrete walls are completely alien, darkness shrouding the rest of the unknown space except for the muted lamp that shines at your side.
The rocking continues, back and forth you move against a soft surface. You’re still disoriented but that soon all fades when his face comes into view, the last face you saw before going unconscious, with a wide grin on his face and his blue eyes blown wide with lust and desire.
It was no dream! It truly is him!
A garbled moan escapes you once more when he jerks his hips, having you realize the state that you’re in—naked and bound on a bed that isn’t yours, in a place you don’t know—and what this man is doing. He doesn’t stop, his movements only going faster and harder, your pussy walls pulsing around his cock that continues to slide in and out, again and again, taking more and more of what you refuse to give.
“S…stop—” you try to protest, you try to scream, but your throat is dry and tight, and no words form despite your efforts.
You try to kick your legs to fend him off and pull yourself away but you can’t feel them. You’re limp and at his mercy, tears spilling from your eyes as he pushes on with his sinful deed and you begging continuously for him to stop, to release you. But they only fall on deaf ears.
“It’s okay, cupcake.” He groans low, leaning down to have his face closer to yours as he rests his elbows on either side of your head. “You don’t have to be afraid.” He says before thrusting deep inside of you, making you groan as your pelvis aches from his strength. “It’s just me.”
You pull your face away when he bows his head, his lips pressing against your temple when he locks himself in place. He cradles you with his body and you bite your tongue to stop the string of moans from leaving your lips but only fail miserably when he quickens his pace. Once, twice, thrice, and more, he takes you further. The tingling sensation stirring in the pit of your stomach has you hating yourself.
“P—please, let me go.” You beg, crying when he moves a hand to grab on your tit. Squeezing, kneading, rolling his thumb against the nipple that stiffens at his attention and you gasp upon feeling the unwanted pleasure cocoon you in spite of your reluctance.
“I can’t do that, cupcake.” He says in a strained voice, the sound of skin slapping against each other filling your ears and you grab tight unto your restraints when he pounds roughly into you. Your walls clench, aching at his continued intrusion. And you grit your teeth when you reach that high, ecstasy completely taking over you that you suddenly come hard around him.
He follows soon after, spilling deep into your core with his moans of pleasure bouncing through the walls. You think he’s done, that he’ll finally let you go as he already took what he wanted. But he doesn’t pull away, instead nestling himself completely between your thighs and you mewl when he gives another thrust, his hips moving as he fucks his come into you.
“Now that I have you,” he’s breathless as he speaks, hands moving to caress your face before pinching your chin and forcing you to face him; your monster. He places a soft kiss against your lips, eyes wandering over your face, like a man obsessing over his prize. “Why would I let you go?”
That was days ago, probably weeks when he finally captured you.
The man, Bucky or James—you don’t care, as you found out his name is, keeping you prisoner, caged like an animal in the room underneath his home. Naked and afraid, with the darkness and the cold surrounding you and only being blessed with the light when he would visit once in the morning and another at night.
The torment was too much to bare at times but you kept fighting, clinging to the sliver of hope that you would one day escape his clutches and run away from everything and begin a new life. But as the days went by, your resolve started to dwindle. You realized that there was no use trying to fight him for each time you would, he would only fight back stronger, harder, and leave you battered, bruised, and used only for him to do it all over again.
Until one day, he came with a trade-off.
“Peace.” He said and you watched him intently, weakly, as he sat on the stool in front of you, setting down a paper bag he brought with him.
You listened to him. “Freedom,” he whispered and your eyes grew wide as the seven-letter word bore deep into your soul. Freedom from the hell he’s kept you in. Freedom from the agony that slowly peeled away your sanity. A life—one you knew before, to be able to do the things you once loved.
But in exchange, your hand. To spend eternity with the man that stalked you and forced you to live in fear. To vow to love him and serve him, to be the wife he always wanted you to be.
Is it truly freedom he offered? Or simply another cell to keep you in? You already knew the answer to that and you knew very well that your life was in the palm of his hand. He made sure of that, planned everything to the tee for he’s done everything to keep you alive, with only him as the judge of when you’d meet your demise.
You wince when your hands throb as you mix the cupcake batter in the bowl. The marks on your wrists are still visible, though slightly healed. You focus on the task at hand to drown away the demons of the past, burying them deep down where no one, not even you, could see it and keep yourself afloat in the present.
It’s not the life you wanted, but one you expected. Bucky did uphold his end of the bargain—a roof over your head and food in your belly, a mansion for you to go as you pleased, and the gold band sitting snugly on your finger; a constant reminder of his power and what you’ve now become.
You hear the front door open, chatter filling the silence of the big house. You know it’s Bucky—he’s home after several days of being away for work. Though it’s not his voice that has you on edge, but Wanda’s.
And her presence is confirmed when you look up and see her standing by the doorway to the kitchen. A tall, blond man stands beside her, one you haven’t seen before, almost leaning against her as she looks at you with shock painted on her face.
She did this. She betrayed you. A monster in sheep’s clothing that didn’t think twice about throwing you to the wolves. She was your safety net. Your confidant through trying times. But you were stupid and nothing more than a bargaining chip—a deal brokered by the two; you in exchange for her lover’s life.
“Why don’t you and Vision wait in my study? Steve’s already in there.” You hear Bucky tell her and you resume finishing the cupcakes you were preparing for your husband’s return. “I will just greet my wife.”
The sound of footsteps clack against the marble floors and you sense Bucky coming closer while pouring the batter into their molds and turning to the over to stow them inside. You begin clearing up your mess, putting away the equipment you’ve used when you suddenly gasp upon feeling two strong arms wrap around your waist.
You force a smile and put on the facade of a happy wife, placing your hand over Bucky’s and giving his knuckles a gentle caress, feeling the hard surface of his ring against your fingertips.
“I missed you, Mrs. Barnes,” He breathes, moving to press his face on the crook of your neck, your skin rippling in disgust when he plants a kiss on it. “I hope you missed me too.”
“Of course, I did, Mr. Barnes.” You respond automatically. “I even baked you your favorite for your return.”
“My wife is so sweet.” He chuckles, your breath hitching when his hands begin roaming across your middle. “You’re always so good to me, cupcake. You were made to be mine.” He sways you both from side to side, dancing despite the absence of music but the feel of his erection digging against the curve of your behind as you move forward, to which he stops by pulling you back against him.
“It was supposed to be a surprise.” You begin initiating conversation, hoping for it to be a distraction. “But you arrived a little too early. I hope I didn’t disappoint you.”
“Disappoint me? Never.” He coos. “I’m the one who should be apologizing for ruining your surprise.” He presses another kiss on your neck. “But I have something better in mind that could be my welcome home treat.” Your heart beats hard against your chest when his hand snakes down your yellow sundress, only for him to pull on the skirt and bunch them over your waist.
He growls when you stop his hand, moving once more to turn and face him instead. But he traps you against the edge of the counter, with his hand cupping your clothed cunt and his fingers exploring, rubbing against your clit.
You try to suppress the moans that force their way out of your lips but fail, his persistence crowding over you and you grip the marble surface when he pulls your panties to the side and press his thumb against your swollen bud.
“Don’t you have a meeting with Steve and the others?” You ask, hoping he would stop and give you a reprieve. Even when he was gone for days, you’re not yet ready to have him back.
“They can wait.” He snarls and you gasp, your back arching against his chest when he slips a finger past your folds, his touch sending ripples of dread through your skin. “But I can’t.”
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