MCSM x Modern!Reader (Discontinued)

Revelations

It's strange how quickly my life had transitioned in the span of two days. One moment I was lying under my duvet, worrying about the history test I had left for the last minute; the next, I had a stranger's breath fanning against the crook of my neck, the promise of something worse than a sliced jaw caressing my earlobe. Every hardship I had ever experienced seemed so trivial now, I could only think as the man's heavy, gloved hands held onto my shoulders, ensuring I remained seated on the bench just below his. My jacket persisted around my waist, and I bitterly regretted removing it as his fingers dug uncomfortably deep into the dips between my collarbones. The hairs on my neck raised in disgust, but I forcibly swallowed the feeling away, reminding myself that this man couldn't do anything to me. After all, Magnus and Jesse were readying themselves for a placated battle, one that the latter would undoubtedly win—so, what was I worrying about?

'Nothing.'

I repeated this in my mind, concocting a sort of chant that would hopefully distract me from my current predicament. I closed my eyes and attempted to level my breathing, too, inserting reminders between the 'nothing' that everything would be fine and that his manhandling of me was the only issue. I wasn't discreet about my efforts, but honestly, I could care less. As long as the man had me within his grasp, he would derive pleasure out of it; that's why while he taunted me through the mask, chuckling and squeezing my shoulders in an attempt to procure another reaction, I ignored him. I didn't even utter a single curse word—because, again, what was I worrying about?

'Nothing!'

My eyes shot open, immediately settling on Jesse as he was in my direct line of sight. He currently faced his opponent, the King of Boomtown, and a man donned in a fancy suit and what looked an awful lot like a lucha-libre mask stood between the two, the Spokesman. While he adjusted his blazer, he went over the rules, constantly transitioning between the crowd and the pair, assuring that there would be no room for confusion. Despite the greatness of his voice, I didn't catch anything he said. I could only see his mouth moving, his lips forming syllables I could not decipher as the crowd refused to shut up. Eventually, though, the Spokesman focused solely on the crowd, refusing to speak until they had quieted down. When everyone fell into complete and utter silence, his face broke into a toothy grin, announcing, 'Let the griefing begin!' a series of cheers ensuing.

They had already begun to battle, throwing miscellaneous items at each other, shouting even though their voices were drowned out by the cheers in the background. And I? Well, I just continued to sit there, watching, anticipating the outcome we had planned. Everything was going fine until Jesse threw dynamite toward Magnus's platform, but then he evaded it, sending the explosion behind him. Chunks of gravel ascended into the air, striking those nearest to the show, and to express their distaste, they started taunting Magnus. Once the crowd settled down, Jesse threw TNT this time, but again, Magnus evaded it, somehow sending it back to the brunette and damaging the platform he stood on. The man behind me emitted a noise of contentment, squeezing my shoulders as the King of Boomtown shouted, 'Nobody messes with me!' in response to the look of horror on Jesse's face. It was at that moment that panic began to overtake my body. I mean, what the hell did Magnus think he was doing? This wasn't the plan at all.

"Magnus, craft a cannon!" A random said, the crowd rising from their seats, collectively shouting in agreement.

'No!' I cried out against my better judgement, hoping that he'd hear me among the sea of chants. But he didn't, and I was at a loss over what to do—I mean, what could I do, realistically? 'Intervene?' I paused. Perhaps I could do just that, because Jesse couldn't seem to get ahold of the situation, I thought as I watched the brunette scramble to build a wall.

'Fuck it,' I decided.

Now, getting the man to relinquish me was the first step to my nonexistent plan, but I had no idea how I'd get around to doing that. The position we were in was rather awkward, and therefore nowhere near in my favor. I felt like my options were limited to either struggling or...headbutting him. 'Should I?' I debated as I chewed my lip, but only for a moment because suddenly, I remembered the time 8-year-old me slipped and fell backwards onto a wet floor. And upon feeling a dull ache spread across the lower back of my skull, struggling appealed more to me.