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slxsherwriter · 12 days

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Might Just Save You Yet

Fandom: 2001 Maniacs, Robert Englund characters

Pairings: Hinted Buckman x female reader

Word Count: 2,905

Warnings: This whole movie serves as a warning

Author's Note: *throws hands up in the air* I guess this is a thing? Englund characters won't leave me alone. But really, as fucked up as this movie is, there's a charm to the character that there shouldn't be and damn it, Robert makes him likeable to a degree. Tagging: @slashingdisneypasta & @tinalbion Hope you guys enjoy! There are two other ideas coming for this fool.

When you woke up just as the two in front had decided to take the detour, you briefly wondered how the hell they had made it into college in the first place. The detour sign was not official, and it didn't take a genius to see that. Because the jagged wood, painted letters, and backward lettering itself, it could not have possibly been any more obvious. But, the three knuckleheads you had somehow gotten stuck with to make it down for Florida for spring break had decided that the detour sign had to be followed.

“Seriously? Are we really taking directions from a homemade detour sign?” Anderson chuckled softly.

“Ah, calm down. It's nothing you gotta worry about.” Nothing.. lord help you the man that you called a brother was an absolute idiot at times. How you were related remained a mystery.

“When we are all disembowed in the back woods with no one coming to ever find us, don't blame me.’

“Jesus Christ, way to be over dramatic. This is why you have no friends.” You rolled your eyes.

“Maybe if you were a little more mindful, you could actually get a girl to pay attention to you, Nelson.” The other two laughed as you gave it right back to their friend. You probably should have just stuck with your original plan to fly down to Florida. You weren't staying at the beach house with the boys. No, a week-long externship had come up at a clinic that exclusively worked with veterans, and you had jumped at the chance. It wasn't like you were going to do anything besides relax and maybe draw some while on spring break anyway, and the opportunity was too good to pass up.

Anderson had told you that they were driving through, so he and his friends would pick you up instead. He had said that he wanted to see you. Part of you suspected that Corey and Nelson, friends of his since middle school, had wanted to take another shot at hooking up with you. Like damn dogs, they continued to bark up that tree every so often.

“Like you would know what it took to get a guy anyway. You're an uptight bitch.” You swallowed a retort, knowing that nothing you said would help the situation. Anderson finally jumped in.

“Hey, hey. Okay, there's no need for that now. Everyone just calm down. Besides, look, there is a town right here.” He pulled up slowly, easing off the gas as you made your way through what seemed to be an abandoned town. Everything looked like it was right out of a history book. Maybe it was a reenactment setup? They had plenty of those scattered in odd locations. You had a few friends who took it very seriously and had brought you along on a few. Enough to recognize it.

“Seems like a ghost town.” Of course, as soon as that left your brother's mouth, the car pulled up to what appeared to be the center of the small town, and suddenly, there were people everywhere. Music was playing, and they were all cheering. Almost instinctively, you curled a little further down in the car. That was far too much attention for your liking. An odd sense naggled at your brain, but it was something that you ignored, attributing it to the fact that you were now all the center of attention.

“So much for a ghost town,” you mumbled, though the guys were too dumbfounded to really be paying attention. Still, manners dictated that you didn't entirely hide, trying to offer a polite smile.

“Welcome to Pleasant Valley!” The man that stepped forward had an air of authority to him. He paused as if waiting for a reaction from the four of you, and when he got none, he leaned forward with a small laugh. Everyone in the mass who had surrounded was cheering, and it died out just as quick when there wasn't a response. The guys were entirely caught off guard, and you were suffering from a little case of the nerves. “Well, don't be a wet ding dong, fellas,” he offered as he hurried around the side of the car towards your brother.

“Buckman's the man, mayor’s my game.” He was standing beside the car now and finally seemed to notice you sitting in the back seat, and that seemingly impossible wide smile broadened further. “Now, why don't cha'all here, give us a big howdy due..hmm?” His hand was held out to Anderson, and in the blink of an eye, the older man had practically yanked your brother out of the driver seat with ease. Shaking hands, your brother remembered some manners.

“Anderson Lee, nice to meet you, sir.” Corey and Nelson were exchanging looks that could easily be deciphered as get a load of this. He managed to introduce you as his sister, but when he attempted to offer the names of the other two, Buckman interrupted.

“Lee Anderson, Lee. My, my, my. What a beautiful surname. Ya'll ain't from the south now, are ya?” You decided to jump in.

“Yes, sir. Born and raised. We were raised in South Carolina. Anderson decided to go north to school. I stayed a little closer to home, in North Carolina.”

“Then ya crossed over to the other side, I see. Well,” he hummed and glanced towards you for a second as he tipped the front of Anderson's hate. “Well, we might just save you yet.” Anderson wasn't sure how to take the comment judging by the confused look on his face. The crowd moved in a little closer as Corey and Nelson got out of the car, leaving you the only one in it. Which meant you had to get out. Slipping from the car, you held your bag close. Buckman turned his attention from Anderson back to you.

“You see, ya'll arrived just in time to be our honored guests at the Guts n’ Glory Jubilee!” The banner was hard to miss. Red, white, and blue, it hung just over the crowd that had gathered behind Buckman. The cheering started all over again, and you couldn't help but smile. Was it a little off? Maybe. You could have arrived in a backwoods town, one of those off grid sort of deals. Or these reenactors were seriously into their business. Either way, there was a light atmosphere. That nagging worry remained in the back of your brain, ignored still.

Corey was murmuring to Nelson, causing you to reach out and smack at his arm.

“Don't be rude.” They rolled their eyes, but their attention was diverted when a scantily clad woman walked up to the mayor. You blinked for a second as the woman instantly flirted with the two beside you. Buckman had shifted over you subtly in that time, inching closer as the boys had their full attention on Miss Peaches.

In a whirl of activity, more individuals showed up, including the car that you had met up with at the last gas station. While your timetable was tight, you didn't want to be disrespectful or rude. At least that was your reasoning for staying while the boys were only thinking with their lower brain.

It wouldn't be so bad, right? The air was crisp and clean. The heat hadn't fully set in just yet, leaving you comfortable in the quiet outdoor setting. There was a rush towards the hotel because apparently rooms were waiting. Another oddity. You had slipped towards the back of the pack and opted to enjoy a little peace, finally away from the boys. Besides, this seemed like a lovely spot to settle in and maybe do a little sketching.

“Well, darling, just what are you doing out here?” You had found a spot under one of the trees closer to the edge of town. Settled down, you had lost track of the time that had passed. It must have been at least a couple of hours, judging from where the sun was overhead. Buckman was standing just a few feet from you, hands in his pockets and observing.

“Oh, I'm sorry, sir.” Smiling, you hoped that he wouldn't have seen the act of you seeking some solitude as an affront to the hospitality that had been offered. “Been with my brother and his friends for a day and a half. Wanted a little peace, and it's just so nice out. Well, I wanted to take advantage. I didn't mean any disrespect to you or Mrs. Boone by it.” There wasn't a hint of anger as he strolled closer.

“Ain't nothing to be worried about. Just wanted to make sure everything was alright. Everything is alright, isn't it?” You relaxed further against the tree after having gone a little rigid when he first found you.

“Absolutely.” You wanted to ask what the deal with the setup was, but figured if it was one of those off the grid communities, you risked offending him. So, with all those southern manners you were raised with, you offered compliments instead. “You seem to have a little piece of paradise here. The town, the land. Seems like it really lives up to its name.” Buckman stood just a little straighter at that, hands coming from his pockets.

“What a sweet talker you are.” You laughed. “We pride ourselves on our little town. It's very kind of you to notice all the work that we put in.”

“Give credit where it's due.” It had made a great subject for your artwork.

“Well, I hate to interrupt a lady at peace, but dinner is going to be ready soon, and Granny Boone is expecting all our guests.” That was the moment that you realized that you hadn't eaten since yesterday. Quickly, you tucked away your pencils and closed your sketchbook. A brush of your pants had you free of any debris that remained on the ground.

“Dinner sounds wonderful.” You were surprised when the man offered his arm out to you. Deciding there wasn't any harm to it, the offer was taken. The walk back to the hotel was pleasant. The man asked questions every so often, centered around you. There was a certain charm about him that you found endearing and oddly attractive. Maybe it was because it was harmless. You wouldn't be here long, and surely nothing could come of it.

“Sounds like a noble cause, helping those that have served their time.”

“I don't know if I would call it noble. It's…just the right thing to do.” Buckman hummed for a moment before opening the door to the hotel for you. “Thank you.”

“It's not something most these days seem interested in, is all. Focus seems to be elsewhere for most.” That was something that couldn't be argued, and you conceded the point. “Why don't you go on and sit down, now. Dinner's almost ready.”

“Anything I can help with?” Just as you asked, an older woman appeared, all smiles just like Buckman had been.

“I won't turn down a helping hand, even if it is a guest. You mind setting the plates out, dear?”

“Not at all.” You took what she had in her arms and she motioned to send you away towards the table, only catching the briefest hint of low tones as if the two had waited for you to step away to talk. It was either your imagination or truly a private conversation. Shaking your head, as if the negative feeling could be physically removed, you worked on placing out the plates and silverware that the woman, who you assumed was Granny Boone, had placed in your arms.

Dinner was a fairly quiet affair. While Granny Boone was kind and funny, she most certainly took no shit and reminded you a bit of your mother. The cooking had been fantastic, and you had made sure to mention such.

Now, the boys were having dessert, Granny was playing the piano, there was an arm wrestling contest going on, and you were content to sit curled in a corner, working in your sketchbook once more. Instead of the town, you had decided to focus on the people in the room this time. Granny, in particular, since she seemed to be genuinely enjoying what she was doing.

Slowly, bodies leaked out of the room, though one slipped in after being absent. Buckman. He sat nearly atop the piano, sipping from a jug and just observing. While the music continued, the other noise quieted down slowly. Until you heard footsteps approaching. Nelson, of all people. The hoped that he wouldn't bother you if he wasn't acknowledged was squashed instantly. A little liquid courage was apparently the only thing needed for him to change his opinion of you being an uptight bitch.

As soon as the arm was around your shoulders, you shrugged it off and stood up. The two at the piano watched cautiously. You could see them trying not to gawk, and it just caused a rush of embarrassment to hit you.

“You can keep your hands to yourself. How many times does it take for you to realize that I'm not interested nor will ever be. Just because your friends with my brother doesn't mean I have to put up with your shit, Nelson. And, as far as I remember, your last opinion of me was that I was an uptight bitch. So, even if you were the last option on the face of this planet, it wouldn't happen.” Before he could attempt any retort, you walked from the room. The urge to run had been resisted by the skin of your teeth.

Stepping out into the cool night air was a relief. There wasn't enough light out here for you to finish your sketch, but that didn't matter since it meant that you were alone. Sitting down on the steps that led up to the hotel, a heavy sigh threatened to cave in your chest, and you buried your face in your hands for a moment. Breathe, just breathe. The mantra repeated over and over. God, did you hate confrontation like that. And to do so in front of practical strangers?

A soft weight rested against your shoulders, startling you.

“Easy,” Buckman nearly whispered. A blanket, he had wrapped a blanket around you. “Didn't mean to frighten you. Just thought ya might want something to keep the chill off ya.” He was being polite and not bringing up what had just happened.

“Thank you…” Another sigh and the wood creaked under his weight before he settled at your side.

“Some boys just don't learn their manners.” The comment brought a little, depreciating laugh before you could stop it.

“Understatement of the century.” A quiet chuckle was his response. “I'm sorry about that. My brother's friends have a habit of not thinking anything through.”

“Nothing you gotta apologize for, ain't any of that on you. They just need their mommas to tan their hides a bit more so they start respecting others.” You both fell silent as the small noises of the night started to echo out. Insects, birds, the rustle of trees and branches. It had always been pleasant and relaxing to listen to after the day had ended. The silence between you was comfortable, not awkward, and not one that you felt compelled to fill. He didn't either, it seemed. After a few more minutes, it was finally broken.

“I uh, see ya got that little book with ya. What were you working on in there?”

“This?” While you were always drawing, you didn't often share openly. But, there was something about the moment that pushed you towards it. A sense that he could appreciate it. “Nothing much. Just a little sketchbook.”

“Mind if I take a look?” He held out his hand but didn't move to grab the book, waiting for permission. After a second of hesitation, you wanted it over.

“The last one isn't finished yet….” The one of Granny Boone. The first few pages were random little ideas without too much detail since it was a relatively new book. The next three were from today. Two of the town and the last being what you had told him wasn't finished.

“Granny is gonna love this,” he finally spoke softly, amusing lacing the words, but they were genuine rather than mocking. “Ya felt that inspired by our little town?”

“There's certainly a draw.” You missed the giddy grin that overtook his features for a passing moment before it was schooled a little more into a more normal smile.

“I'm touched that you see such charm in our town. And lord, is there some talent here.” Well, there you go again, the heat rising to your cheeks. “Not too many see the town like this.” There was an odd note to his voice, then that caused you to look up. You couldn't place the emotion then. Longing? Desperation? Nostalgia? Either way, it settled there, making the usually peppy and excited mayor seem melancholy until the smile returned, brushed off as if it had been nothing more than a fly on his shoulder.

“Hard to see why. Nice southern hospitality, peaceful, little off the beaten path to make it feel separate from the rest of the world.”

“Glad you think so, darling.” You glanced back out towards the town once more before your world went black.

#horror writing #robert englund characters #villain writing #villain x reader #george buckman #mayor buckman #mayor buckman x reader #george buckman x reader #2001 maniacs #2001 maniacs fic

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the-leech-lord · 5 months

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I gave Buckman, Willie, and Freddy kitty ears (^˵◕ω◕˵^)

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otisbdriftwood · 1 month

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only 2001 to go!

#could you tell i want them badly?#2001 maniacs #mayor buckman #george buckman #rufus buckman #<- first post to be EVER tagged as rufus buckman #robert englund #my art

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me-imherenowhere · 2 years

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#ben schwartz #dewey duck #Clyde Oberholt #george buckman #jean ralphio #f tony scarapiducci #fuck tony for the homies #randy cunnigham #yasper lennov #leo rising #leo rottmnt #bisexual

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slashingdisneypasta · 1 month

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Incorrect Quote

Lester: I thought to bolster my self esteem, daddy, I would adopt this raffish new look!

Mayor Buckman: ... =_= *cant see a difference* Uh yeah, son, its... Well, it suits you. Dashing, and yet understated, and uh... Oh I give up, what the hell are you talking about???

Lester: My moustache.

Buckman:

Lester:

Buckman: =_= *still cant fucken see*

Lester: -I grant you, its at an early stage.

Buckman: What stage is that!?- Research and Development??

#i can hear this soooooo clearly XDD #Lester Buckman #Mayor Buckman #Mayor George Buckman #Incorrect Quote #Incorrect Quotes #Horror Villains Incorrect Quote #Horror Villains Incorrect Quotes #Horror Villains #source: Frasier

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benschwartzcinematicuniverse · 2 months

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Zero surprises here, officer 🫡

Normally, I say that there are no wrong answers here… but guys, you gotta know a good thing when you see it:

Schwartz Madness starts in 10 days.

#ben schwartz #squirrel dad #he’s literally perfect #fmk #fmk poll #last poll before the showdown #i know we didn’t get to everybody #sound off #who’d we miss?

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tiffray · 8 months

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george w buckman

#icneed my tongue in his gaping eye socket while i hump his thigh #captain

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fragmentedshards · 2 years

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Life in Golding - miniseries

The New Girl

Carrietta White stood at the town limits of Golding, fiddling with the handle of her suitcase. Even as she walked past the comparatively small sign reading Welcome to Golding!, she found she really did not want to be here one bit. But there was nowhere else for her to go. Too much destruction was behind her.

Two figures were coming out to meet her at the town limit, one male and one female. The closer they got to Carrie, the more she realized how utterly ridiculous the gray-haired man looked, with a fancy suit and an eyepatch like a character in a play. The woman, judging by her uniform and badge, was the sheriff of Golding. Carrie clutched her suitcase until she felt her knuckles go numb.

“Hey, kid,” the sheriff said, in a surprisingly warm voice for her demeanor. She had cherry red hair peeking out in wisps from under her hat. “It’s good to see you!”

“Carrietta White,” the man said, in a deep Southern drawl just as theatrical as the rest of him. “Our newest resident! It is very good to see you, indeed.”

“It’s just Carrie,” was all Carrie could mutter.

The sheriff laughed. “Well it’s nice to meet you, Carrie. I’m Sheriff Heelshire, but most people call me Sheriff Jeri; see, my given name is Jericho,” she winked at Carrie, who relaxed ever so slightly. “And this wacko is Mayor Buckman.”

“Mayor George W. Buckman of the great city of Golding,” the mayor boomed, stretching his arms out wide. Sheriff Jeri shot Carrie a conspiratorial smirk, rolling her eyes, and Carrie bit back a giggle.

“He’s just here to welcome you to town,” Sheriff Jeri put a hand on Mayor Buckman’s shoulder, who looked at her, surprised.

“Well, now,” he said, “I thought I’d help you give her the tour, at least until we make it to the bakery. I’ve got to make sure we show her good hospitality.”

The sheriff rolled her eyes again, not even remotely secretly this time. “Alright, lead the way then, Mayor Whackman - I mean, Buckman.”

Mayor Buckman did not seem perturbed by Sheriff Jeri’s insolence. On the contrary, he laughed heartily as he led both the sheriff and Carrie down Golding’s main street.

Carrie tried to take everything in, but there was too much to remember on the first time seeing everything. Her head was spinning from all the changes, and she was dimly aware of the orange leaves floating on the breeze around the lamp posts along the sidewalk, the complete lack of litter, and various storefronts saying things like Mariko’s Floral Arrangements and Golding Gazette. Mayor Buckman walked ahead of Carrie and the sheriff, talking in his booming voice almost more to himself than to the others.

“There’s the post office up there, Miss Lucy manages that. If you get any mail, you can walk up and pick it up, but sometimes Mr. Coltrane delivers the mail when he’s not on routes out of town. Speaking of Mr. Coltrane, his wife manages that bank right there. There’s the pharmacy, the doctor’s office….”

Sheriff Jeri continued to make funny faces behind the mayor’s back, making Carrie laugh quietly, until the mayor stopped short. “And there’s where my sweet Sylvie works, her bakery!” He opened the door under a sign that read Golding Glory Goods and motioned the ladies through.

Inside the air was heavy and sweet, and Carrie instantly felt more at ease than she had earlier. She fiddled with her suitcase handle and looked sideways at Sheriff Jeri, who winked at her. There were a few tables situated throughout the bright bakery, and even fewer people seated at the tables enjoying sweet treats. Carrie noticed an Asian lady in a black judicial robe, a patriotic-looking clown, and a skinny man with long blond hair all sitting together sharing a large cupcake, a couple sitting together at a corner table, each eating fruit tarts, and a woman sitting alone with a book, a small plate of Linzer cookies, and a cup of tea.

A young, smiley, rosy-cheeked lady behind the counter grinned brightly at the three newcomers. Sylvie Buckman was quite a bit younger than Carrie expected, but something about the almost motherly mannerism with which she rushed around the counter to greet them made her seem more mature.

“Why, you must be Carrie!” she smiled, stretching her arms out as if to hug Carrie before drawing back suddenly, gasping softly. “You know what? You need a cinnamon roll.”

Carrie blinked. “What? But I don’t have…”

“It’s on the house, honey,” Sylvie Buckman said, guessing Carrie’s protest. In a flash, she disappeared behind the counter and reappeared with a steaming, sticky cinnamon roll on a small blue willow plate. “They’re fresh! Oh, and Jeri,” she said, turning to the sheriff, “I’ve got that cookie assortment you wanted, all packaged and ready to go!”

“Thanks, Syl,” Sheriff Jeri smiled. “Brahms says you bake the best chocolate chip cookies in Golding, and I’m willing to concede defeat on that point,” she laughed a little, adding, “Although I still make better chicken parm.”

Sylvie laughed. “I’m not arguing!” she said jovially, presenting Sheriff Jeri with a large box wrapped in a brown ribbon and smelling wonderful. “And I saved you a slice of cherry pie, mister,” she leaned on her counter and pointed to the mayor, who chuckled heartily and sauntered up to his wife.

Carrie peered down at her cinnamon roll, gingerly pulled a piece off of it, and tasted it. Instantly a warm light spread through all the way down to her toes, like a gooey, spiced hug. “Mmm,” she said aloud without realizing it.

Her inadvertent noise drew the attention of the whole bakery to her. Before she could say or do anything, Mayor Buckman’s voice boomed, “Everyone, this is Carrie White, our newest resident here in Golding! Carrie, this is my wife, Sweet Sylvie,” he said, beaming at the baker, who waved gently at Carrie.

Sheriff Jeri took over the introductions. “Right, this is Daniel and Tsianina Robitaille, local artisans,” she indicated the couple eating fruit tarts, who smiled and nodded at Carrie, as their mouths were full. “This is Bethany Cromeans, the funeral director and president of the Golding Knitting Club,” Sheriff Jeri introduced the woman sitting alone, who shook Carrie’s hand and murmured Nice to meet you. “And this is Captain Spaulding, Otis Driftwood, and Eugenia Driftwood. Otis is a farmer, his wife Eugenia is our justice of the peace, and Captain runs a restaurant with one of our other farmers.”

“Best fried chicken in the state!” Captain Spaulding, the clown, proudly proclaimed. “Or barbecue, if you ask Drayton Sawyer.”

Carrie smiled shyly at everyone, growing quite overwhelmed. Perhaps sensing this, Sheriff Jeri put her arm around Carrie and said rather loudly, “Well, I’ll be getting Carrie on up to her new home. I’ll return the plate when I come back through town, Syl,” she added.

“You’re moving into Strawberry Oaks, right?” Bethany Cromeans asked, looking back up from her book. “The Voorhees family?”

Carrie shook her head, more out of confusion than anything else.

“Jason and Mo are fostering her, yes,” Sheriff Jeri answered, making it as obvious as she could that she didn’t want to continue this conversation.

“There’s lots of foster kids in Golding,” Tsianina Robitaille said, seemingly finally swallowing the fruit tart. “Ours included, and George and Sylvie’s. You’ll meet them all in school.”

“Right, we’ll see y’all,” Sheriff Jeri ushered Carrie out the door and back into the crisp Golding air. “Sorry about that,” she said once they had walked a ways up the road. “I just thought you needed to get out of the spotlight, all things considered.”

Carrie didn’t say anything at first, wondering if the sheriff knew where she came from.

“I had to read your file, see,” Sheriff Jeri confirmed, as if reading Carrie’s thoughts. “I have to know the backgrounds of every foster kid that comes to Golding, that way I can place them in a family that will actually help them.” she paused before continuing. “I know a little of what all that feels like. That stuff with your mom? Mo is kind of familiar with it too. Lots of maternal trauma here in Golding, I’ve noticed.”

Before Carrie could even comprehend a reply to this, a beat-up truck pulled up next to the two of them and a man leaned out of the driver’s side window. “Hey, Sheriff,” said the man, in a Southern drawl similar to that of the mayor. “Y’all need a lift up to Strawberry Oaks? I’m headed up that way myself; Anjali borrowed one of Mo’s cake pans so I’m returning it while she’s working.”

“Sure,” Sheriff Jeri replied, motioning for Carrie to follow her as she walked around the front of the car. “Carrie, this is Bo. He’s the shop teacher at the school - you’ll have to call him Mr. Sinclair there, of course.”

Carrie gave Mr. Sinclair a tight-lipped smile as she and the sheriff climbed into the truck, and settled herself to gaze out the window for the journey to Strawberry Oaks.

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legocereal · 2 years

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Danny Pudi and Ben Schwartz as Miller and George Buckman in Flora & Ulysses

#danny pudi #ben schwartz #flora and ulysses #icons #idk what to tag this tbh #im so normal about them #george buckman

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alwaysschwartz · 3 years

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Flora & Ulysses was such a great movie! Very funny and cute and it was adorable seeing Benny play a dad. After watching George and Phyllis share a kiss at near the end of the movie, I couldn't stop replaying it, so here I have a photo of the kiss that I took from my tablet. This movie and this kiss were both adorable.

#Flora & Ulysses #George Buckman #Ben Schwartz #Phyllis Buckman #Alyson Hannigan

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waffletoast215 · 3 years

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My fan art of George Buckman from Flora and Ulysses!

edit: forgot the mustache to go with the beard, oops. will be fixed in the next one

#my art #ben schwartz #flora and ulysses #george buckman #disney

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slxsherwriter · 7 days

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The Spirit of Lending a Hand

Fandom: 2001 Maniacs

Pairings: Potential Buckman x Reader

Word Count: 4,073

Warnings: Cannibalistic spirits, death, witchcraft, talks of necromancy, honestly this whole movie and its contents probably count as a warning

Author's Note: Here I am, once again writing Buckman. My brain works in mysterious ways, even to me. This sort of took a life of its own. As always, not beta read and unedited. Information also taken from the comics.

Tagging: @slashingdisneypasta & @tinalbion

The semi-annual trip to Pleasant Valley had been delayed this time around due to unforeseen and unwelcomed circumstances that were beyond your control. Namely, a set of hunters that had been on your tail for the better part of four months. They had been smart, annoyingly persistent, and meticulous in their planning. Far more trouble than you had met in recent years.

Once you had felt confident that you had shaken their incessant pestering and attempts on your life, you gathered all the necessary supplies and headed out to the small, off the beaten path, ghost town. Well, cemetery, but it had the feeling of a ghost town. The energy there was indescribable. Then again, after such a tragedy, it didn't come as a surprise. The spirits likely lingered there, something you understood even if others didn't.

You had first come across the resting site of the small town in your travels for your doctorate, focusing on the fall out of a war on small towns in the south from an economic, social, and overall day to day living standpoint. It was hard when records of those that had been destroyed as a byproduct and casualty of war were wiped from the map. Before heading back, you decided to take the summer and explore some more rural areas of South Carolina and Georgia. Besides, there were plenty of supplies for your other studies to be found in that took time, too.

The tug in your gut had you making that left hand turn for the first time. The graveyard was large. A place full of sorrow, of mourning, of anger. But so were most places like this when lives were irrevocably changed. Which, really, was a civilized way to say slaughtered. From your understanding after reading the gravestones and doing some digging, that was what had occurred in Pleasant Valley. A massacre of innocent lives. It was a frequent happening when it came to times of war but made it no less tragic or horrific.

After that first visit, there was something that kept pulling you back time and time again. Before you realized it, you had routinely visited the place twice yearly for years. It was a place to calm your mind and gather yourself. Feel recharged but also perform those darker rituals that required a draining amount of energy. There was enough in the place that you could draw from it and get done what was needed. The occasional necromancy and such. Not things that you dabbled in too often but when it was needed, and unfortunately, there was a time and place for it, then being in a place like Pleasant Valley helped.

This year, it felt entirely different. More energy, more lively. Typically, you came during summer and winter, but because your winter trip had been delayed, you were entering the area during mid-spring. Lively. That was an odd way to frame it, and your brain stuck on it when the normal left was marked with a giant detour sign. You stopped the car and stared at it for several long moments. The lettering had been poorly done with the e of detour backward. Enough to make you laugh, but at the same time, there was a nagging concern. Had someone desecrated the resting place of these poor souls?

It was a smart idea to see what you were walking into before you did. Metaphorically speaking, of course. Parking the car on the shoulder, you settled back into the driver seat, closed your eyes, muttering the words of the spell, and concentrating hard. Astral projection was always one of those spells that you could never quite get the hang of, but this was worth the attempt.

It had to be repeated twice before you felt the telltale heaviness and then lightness of your limbs. Traveling slowly down the dirt road, hands in your pockets, you still took time to appreciate the beauty of the natural surroundings. Right as you were about to cross under the arch that marked the threshold, you were thrown back into your body. Gasping and coughing, it took a moment for your spirit to settle back in and breathing to come normally. Well, that was new. Something was happening. Something not of the natural world. With your intrigued spiked, the tires nearly peeled on the gravel as you turned the car down the road towards the familiar spot.

Instead of a graveyard, you were met with a quiet, quaint looking town. Something akin to what one would see in the south during the eighteen hundreds. You should know well enough. As you got closer and closer, there was a buzz in the air that felt electric. The anger that hung around Pleasant Valley was present, but this was far different. If an energy could feel hungry, that was what you would have described it as. There was a gathering of people ahead, surrounding two cars. The cheering and hollering were evident from a ways back. Your skin pricked, and your hair stood on end. And in that moment, you understood perfectly.

It was dangerous. So very dangerous for any living being to be here right now. These weren't people. They were vengeful spirits. How had you not made the connection before now? Was it because there wasn't enough energy when you normally stopped by.

“More guests!” The patch was recognizable. After so many trips to the site, you knew that it could only be George Buckman. Whether you made it out of this or not was up to how it was played. And that required a private conversation with the man that seemed to be pulling all the strings. Offering help seemed like your best chance. Should you feel bad about offering the lives of those who had unwittingly found their way here? The answer was yes. But would you? No, not likely. Who was dimwitted enough to follow a sign like that in today's day and age? Besides, fresh sacrificed blood was a hard commodity to come by unless you got your hands dirty yourself and even then, it could be iffy.

It took a little bit, and there were a few odd looks, as if people were trying to place exactly who you were to them. The familiarity of a place you had never been washed over you. It wasn't entirely true. You had never been to Pleasant Valley when it had existed with living people, homes, businesses, and the little quirks that came with such things. But you had been here before, had communed with the land and in ways with the spirits. In a way, they did know you, and you knew them.

Southern hospitality dictated a certain set of manners in return. That much you knew. Your history degree wasn't entirely useless after all. The sirs and ma'ams worked their way in, albeit a little unnaturally and awkward at times. Offers to help with whatever it is they were doing were made. They were declined each and every time but the offer was there.

There were other ways to be useful, though. Hex bags and a corresponding hex could provide easier targets for the souls stuck on this Earth. The problem was making them quick enough and properly placing them. You might be able to get one or two together and tucked hidden away, but would it be enough?

Before much thought could be put in, or you could gain a private audience with Mayor Buckman, someone else decided to grab your attention. Quite literally. The large hand clapped down on your shoulder, a firm touch that spoke a fraction of the strength it held.

“I think you and me need to have a chat, miss.” It felt like there was little room for argument. Nodding your consent, though it was hardly needed, the large man beside you was a presence that you would lose a physical fight against. And a fight would not help with your plans here. It was best to go along quietly and see what it was that he wanted to discuss. No one else was being pulled off on their own, at least not yet and no in a manner like this. Hopefully, you weren't marching towards your death.

The town was mostly out of sight by the time that the little walk had come to an end. You were finally able to turn and look at the man. Taller, broad shoulders. But an air about him. Another magic user. In some form or another.

“You're the one that comes around here.” It wasn't a question, a simple statement and acknowledgment that maybe some did know who you were. “Practices your witchcraft.”

“That is me.”

“You're late this year.” It shouldn't have been surprising, and yet, you were standing there, entirely caught off guard to the fact that the man knew your schedule had been entirely thrown off.

“I had a little problem to take care of,” you paused. “Well, not so little. Took me a good four months to handle. But, occasionally, things like that come up, someone tries to take my life, and it's a vicious circle for a short while.” An amused twitch of his lips was the response. You took that as a good sign for what was to come. It was all a matter of still carefully navigating the landscape.

“Yet, you are still here.”

“Well, did you think I was going to miss my routine just because I had two men trying to kill me?” At that, you ended up receiving a smile, which was counted as a victory.

“Why do you come back?” Now, that was something that you had asked yourself quite a bit over the last few years and never came up with a solid answer. Perhaps ones that sounded pleasing to the ear but never one that was genuine. Why not be honest with the spirits? More than you had been with yourself, at least. A small shrug came before the words started to flow.

“Because it always felt right.” A simple answer. “There was always something pulling me here, demanding attention and a commune. There was never really a solid explanation for it. I just knew the first time I passed something demanded, I show up, and that demand never ceased. The energy always felt right.”

“So perhaps you are the one.” The tilt of your head came unbidden, something that you couldn't help at the words grabbed your curiosity. Never one for chosen prophecies or the like, it was still something that was worth the intrigue. There didn't seem to be much more information forthcoming. “You do understand what is going to happen here?”

“I would be foolish to miss it in the air. Vengeful spirits create a certain…energy in the air. Intent shapes it and leaves lingering traces.” He nodded.

“Yet, you remain.”

“Admittedly, at first, I was worried someone had desecrated the graveyard. And when I felt something blocking me, I had to investigate. You all did catch me a little off guard with the whole, ya know, appearance thing going on.” He chuckled and nodded.

“I do suppose that would cause a bit of a shock upon arrival.” He nodded to himself and motioned for you to follow after him. This time, he wasn't leading you but rather trusting that you would be walking alongside him. Far more peaceful that way. There seemed to be people milling about, watching, but not really participating in anything now that there wasn't anyone to pay attention to them. You supposed you could understand such a thing. If you were stuck in a purgatory pattern like this, there wouldn't be much drive to do anything either.

“Didn't go getting lost now, did ya?” The mayor greeted with a wide smile, eye flickering back and forth between you and your companion, whose name that you never got.

“Think you and Granny Boone need to have a sit down with this one, sir.” There was an odd emphasis on some of the words, but whatever he had been trying to convey was apparently done successful as Buckman paused long enough to process the information.

“Really, now? Ain't that the darndest thing. We were just going to have a little chat, so why don't you just come along then?” This would be the make or break moment that had been looming since your arrival a few hours ago. Once again, you could only consent.

“Of course.” With Buckman taking over, you were led towards the small church in town, after it had been demanded that your former companion let Granny know that she was expected to attend the meeting.

During the short walk, you exchanged names properly, and there was an ease about it that could be appreciated. Rare was it that you got along well and right off the bat with others, a byproduct of the life that you led. A sense of calm that came from him, even though there was still that hint of rage simmering beneath the surface. As much as it would make others uncomfortable, you found a calming effect to it in the familiarity.

The church was void of everyone and everything, and while it wasn't exactly your favorite place to be but it wasn't the worst.

“Must be a reason he is thinking so highly of you, darling. You gonna explain or keep me in suspense?”

“Wouldn't it be easier to wait for the others?” Waiting meant that you wouldn't have to repeat yourself multiple times. It was far more preferable than spitting out the same explanation over and over and over. There was a moment of indecision, the choice flipping around before a sigh was given as an answer. He didn't have to wait long. The older woman who had been running the quote hotel of the town came in, eyeing you suspiciously. The response? A broad smile as you remained seated, allowing the two to gather around you.

“All right, Missy. Best start explaining what's going on.” Granny Boone was no nonsense. You liked her.

“Well, I've been coming to Pleasant Valley for years now, twice a year specifically. This is the first time that I've met any of the residents, though.” There was a tension that briefly filled the room, enough to give you pause and wonder if you had said the wrong thing before it broke and a sense of excitement took its place.

“Knew I recognized something about ya!” Buckman was practically joyous, while Boone remained a little more reserved but was all smiles like he was. “Looks like this year's festival is about to get a whole lot more interesting, ain't it?” Boone quickly batted at his knee.

“You haven't even asked yet. Don't get ahead of yourself.” The interaction was enough to make you smile.

“I'd be happy to help in any way that I can. Eye for an eye aren't just some fanciful words. I can spot others' work when I see it.”

“Ain't you a smart one.” You shrugged. “Well, we got our answer. We got our guests. All we need now is to get ready for the barbecue.” If you thought he was excited before, it was nothing compared to now. The man was all but vibrating with energy in his spot.

“I just have a quick question. And you may or may not be able to answer it for me. I've been coming here for years but this is the first time we have met, face to face, so to speak. Why now? Why not then?” There had been plenty of opportunities, but nothing had ever happened. The two looked at one another.

“Well, it's not always easy to appear as it is at other times. The more Yanks, the more it's worth the effort.” Interesting. Something caught, but the idea refused to fully form right yet. Stuffing that thought away for later, you nodded.

“Makes sense. Wasted time and energy if the reward isn't big enough.”

“Besides, you bring something with ya that just livens us all up a bit. Especially since you drop by at quieter times.” That idea drug forward a little further. Again, thought would be dedicated later in a quiet moment where you could concentrate on the feeling and what the idea was supposed to shape up to be.

“I suppose I should say I'm flattered.” The small laugh that accompanied the words had the other two smiling wider. It was a relaxed but giddy and anticipatory atmosphere. One that you found yourself sinking further and further into as the seconds ticked by. A place to stay. To be safe. The whispers tickled your consciousness. “Just direct me as to where I'm needed and what is expected of me. I'm not afraid of getting my hands dirty if that's required.” Not to find joy in it. Maybe they did to some degree, but this was about avenging the egregious act that they had suffered. After suffering so long in a made purgatory, things started to twist a little bit, though.

“No use in sitting here like bumps on a log. We got work to do.” Buckman clapped and jumped to his feet. “Think I'm gonna keep you with me, pretty thing. Wanna see just whatcha can do.”

Boone went back to continue prepping whatever it was that she was in the middle of, something with the ladies that had arrived from your understanding. With her gone, it was just you and Buckman.

The seemingly jovial man was observing you still, though he was on his feet and motioning for you to follow.

“Ya know, ya been coming here so often, for so long, sort of makes ya an honorary resident of our little town.”

“Sort of feels like that.” There wasn't any use in lying or trying to deny that feeling. Being honest with the man had been your decision from the smart, so why stop with something as silly as telling him that there was something that made you feel so connected to this place. “Moved around a bunch as a kid. Never really had a set place, and that's sort of been the theme in my adult life, too. Moving minimizes the risk of being caught by those who would prefer to see me dead. Always liked it when we stayed in the south, though. Felt most at home. That subtle heat in the spring and fall. Different pace to life in the smaller towns. An abundance of ingredients for spells and such. Better energy, too. Something far more deeply rooted. Unless I visited places like Salem or Plymouth. Sometimes, there was less acceptance of the….well, lifestyle for lack of a better term but always made due.”

“That happen often? Someone chasing after ya like that?”

“Often enough. It's what delayed my appearance here this year. Though, I guess that it worked out in everyone's benefit in the end. Except for theirs….”

“Hm, then ya really won't have a problem helping us take care of these Yanks.”

“I've brought people back from the dead for less than honorable purposes. Yeah, I really don't mind helping you kill someone. Or in this case, someones given the turnout you have here.” The laugh that came from Buckman couldn't have been classified as anything but ecstatic and excited. A sound that others would likely think bordered on the sound of insane. For you, though? There wasn't a way to stop the grin that it brought. “My hands haven't been clean in many, many years. What's adding a little more?” And your view on the world and the people in it may have been twisted and just a little skewed, but it came with the territory.

“Just gonna have to gather up the town to make sure no accidents happen then. Let them know you are here helping.” He raised a hand to rub his chin, thoughts clearly going a mile a minute. Not that he could be blamed. You knew that while you were there to help and would, your presence ilkley threw a monkey wrench into whatever plans that they had.

While Buckman might have been accepting, it didn't mean that the rest of the town would be right away either. So a meeting would have been smart. You would have hated to cause a problem for one of the spirits because you had reason to defend yourself. They couldn't be hurt in the traditional sense and had probably gotten quite comfortable in their relative safety from physical harm. But, you weren't their usual prey, and while you didn't want to focus on it, having various methods of protection were floating through the back of your mind. Hopefully, there wasn't a need for it.

******************

It was a sight to behold, how quickly the spirits were able to create chaos, one that was under a tight control and allowed them such freedom to do as they pleased. Impressive, really. So much so that you were feeling immensely grateful that you weren't on the receiving end. No one was spared, and no corners were cut. The brutality of it wasn’t so uncommon to you that it gave a weak stomach, but on the same hand, it did press some sort of line. As complicit as you were, you kept your mouth shut. Besides, was there really room for you to talk? It was a reminder to yourself given all that you had done in your life.

There was such a captivating sort of aura around the entire thing, the passion and need that came from those around you enough to make you want to drop to your needs. All driven forward from desperation. If you helped them, how long would it take for them to finally know rest?

“He's getting away!” There was one that had just escaped the flaying knife of the cook, apparently not all the way dead. The urgent tone cried out loudly and caught your attention. The man was moving far faster than he should have been able to, adrenaline, and the critical need to stay alive kept him moving. And he had a heavy head start on just about everyone. So far, the spirits had appeared to move like normal humans. The first natural, gut reaction that you had was to lash out, the ground immediately rising into a wall in front of him. Head first he ran into it, with no time to hit the brakes and bring himself to a stop. How he wasn't knocked out cold was beyond you, but it was enough for others to catch up to him.

“Well, buttermilk pancakes, look at that.” Buckman was by your side seemingly out of nowhere, letting out a low whistle. It had been a long time since you had heard anyone even slightly impressed with your abilities. A twinge of pride swelled in your chest. “That's a mighty fine trick ya got there.”

“Ain't the only trick up my sleeve.” The comment slipped a little more flirty than intended. The chuckle that came from the man was well worth any embarrassment.

“I think you are going to do just fine here, sweetheart.” That old southern twang that came through was pleasant to listen to, an emotion that came unbidden and unexpected. Trouble. The thought meant big damn trouble. You were too far into things now, though, to give up. Giving in was the only option. What was the use of living a long life if a little fun couldn't be had every once in a while? It wasn't like he was going to be around forever after all. Once they were able to fulfill the force keeping them here on this Earth, they would finally be allowed to rest.

“Planning on keeping me, sir?” A proper southern gentleman, even if he was a vengeful, cannibalistic spirit, instead of offering back anything vulgar or too untowards, he simply grinned and rested a hand against your lower back.

“Oh, ya ain't ever getting free, sweetheart.” The possessive note sent a shiver down your spine. Not in a bad way. It had been many years since you had ever felt a flick of danger mixed with desire like he was able to ignite. He would be gone eventually, but until then? There was nothing saying that you couldn't enjoy yourself and bring a hint more pleasure to his life.

#horror writing #robert englund characters #villain x reader #villain writing #mayor buckman x reader #mayor buckman #george buckman x reader #george buckman #2001 maniacs fic #2001 maniacs

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michaels-orange-mask · 3 years

Text

Can we just appreciate the acting range that Bill Moseley possesses...

#slashers #horror #bill moseley #otis driftwood #the magician #george w buckman #house of 1000 corpses #devil's rejects #3 from hell #the devil's carnival #alleluia! The Devil's Carnival #2001 maniacs

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tinalbion · 3 years

Note

Mayor Buckman scenario of modern reader as an “Honored Guest”? She’s the reincarnation of his beloved young wife & mother of his children, who died before the massacre. He can’t kill her. He’ll sabotage, force her to stay if he must. She doesn’t remember the love or life they shared. Yet. He can’t understand her fright, tears & pleas to go home as he puts her ring back on her finger. Fate’s already brought her home to him. He won’t fail her as husband again. Death can’t stop their true love.

Tina’s back, alright! Woo! Let’s GO! Coming back strong (hopefully), been MIA for a bit and figured why not murder everyone with feelings? Thanks for this ask, I love it.

‘Till Death and Beyond’

Mayor Buckman x AFAB Reader

Words: 3k

Warnings: None

---

You stood there in all of your glory, back on the familiar weathered steps of Pleasant Valley, your eyes wandering over the scenery and the faces of the townsfolk as your friends all wandered the grounds. You were preoccupied and so confused by the overly friendly meeting with the mayor of this town, but maybe it was just that good old Southern hospitality you heard so much about. Whatever the case, your car broke down and you all had to spend a few days here, your friend Theo already cursing himself for stupidly taking the detour.

“Only you would be that much of an idiot to follow a sign that looks like it was written by a child,” your friend Connor spat with a short mocking laugh afterward. “And you didn’t even let us vote if we wanted to go this direction, you ass.”

Theo huffed and ignored the smugness of his friend and walked off toward the small group of scantily clad women who smiled as he approached.

You on the other hand watched the scene unfold, keeping to yourself as you observed because that was what you were good at; you watched. You took immediate notice of the mayor speaking to a group of townsfolk as he faced you, his hand movements jerky and seemingly upset. You were curious if it had anything to do with your unexpected visit to Pleasant Valley. Yet you didn’t bother to press the matter, they could have allowed you all to pass through the town unscathed and unbothered, yet they were extending their hospitality to you all and did it with smiles on their faces.

“Fuckin’ weird people here,” Connor remarked in a hushed tone as he hurried his pace alongside Theo, wanting to join the group of women.

Now that you were alone and not having to deal with the overwhelming feeling of keeping up appearance for the guys, you released a deep breath and continued to look around, curious as to why it felt so damn familiar here, why the scent of the woods had made you think of home. Not the place you left to take a vacation from, oh no, a real home that you couldn’t place memory to. The warmth of the springtime Georgia air was gentle against your skin as the smell from the nearby field of flowers filled your senses. Every time you had attempted to put a name to the feeling you were experiencing, it slipped away, the thought just sitting on the tip of your tongue.

You had been so swept up in the thought that you didn’t hear the soft footfalls of the mayor stop just behind you, you spun around in surprise and calmed when you noticed it was him.

“Just figured I’d check in on ya, darlin’, you seem like somethin’ is troubling ya.”

Was this too personal to share, you weren’t entirely sure, but it was kind enough of him to come to you and see how you were handling this series of events that led you here, straight to him. You nodded your head slightly and sighed.

“I’m alright, just taking in the sights, thinking. I appreciate the extent of your hospitality mayor, even though my friends don’t seem like they’re appreciative.” Of course, you had to explain their questionable behavior, it was the same thing everywhere you traveled.

The mayor chuckled as he adjusted the lapel of his jacket, his hands hanging on them as he stood there, looking at you curiously. His eye wandered to your face and it lingered there for too long that you took notice and shifted uncomfortably, pushing some hair behind your ear. He sensed your unease and took a step forward, his clouded mind too focused on you.

You wanted to tell him to back off, to give you space, but something inside of you told you to stay put as you watched his arm reach out, his large, calloused hand placed gently against your cheek. You wanted to recoil but you couldn’t find it in yourself.

“I know it’s you, sugarplum, I know it is…” he trailed off quietly, his thumb stroked your skin. “You look just like her, I know it’s you.”

That’s when you pulled away, pushing his hands off of you as you stared at him with fear behind your eyes. “What the hell,” you snapped, “I am not whoever you think I am, I’ve never met you in my life.”

Buckman seemed confused and hurt, broken by your harsh words and your cold behavior, maybe you just needed some reminding of who you were and where you came from. “I’m sorry, darlin’, I uh, I got carried away... but there are some people I’d love for you to meet if you’re willin’ to humor me.”

You felt unease and discomfort now being around this man, who seemed to radiate such contrasting energy that you weren’t sure if you would be safe or not in his presence, especially alone. Out of fear, you followed beside him, drawn within yourself as your steps seemed quick and skittish.

He watched you from a side glance, his mind wracked with so many thoughts and memories of his beloved first wife, the mother of his children, his princess. He would have done everything to have her back with him like they used to be, much like his beloved daughter Scarlet. He wondered if this was possible to see you here that maybe his child would come back to him, too. He was too absorbed in the thought of his family that he had almost passed the chapel where his two sons, Rufus and Lester, were waiting for him to return.

“Boys,” he greeted cheerfully as he burst through the door, “we have an honored guest with us for this year’s Jubilee, and I am hoping you will all get along!”

You were on display for the two grown men, their eyes widened at the sight of you and silence followed. Buckman was understanding of this, he knew the boys saw it too, just like he had. He smiled warmly as he thought of the impossible; the mother of his children being brought back to him, to them, to the town. He needed it to happen, he would even make yet another deal with Crow to make it so. That was the plan. You had no idea.

Hesitantly, you waved and greeted the boys like normal, but the way they looked at you only made the uneasy pit in your stomach feel much more unpleasant. Lester waved happily, his other hand stroking the wool of the sheep that stood beside him. Rufus unfolded his arms and tilted his head as he watched you curiously, his hardened face changed to softness as he looked at you. It was you, it had to be. There was hope after all that things could work out in their favor.

You backed away, making your way toward the door, explaining in stutters that you needed to get some rest, it had been a long trip after all, and you needed a meal as well. The men nodded and watched you go.

Buckman turned to his sons and spread his arms out, exaggerating his movements. “You’d be daft as a brush if you thought otherwise, boys, it’s her, isn’t it?!” He was even trying to convince himself now more than the boys. They nodded eagerly as Lester began to recall his beautiful mother, the short and fuzzy memories that grew harder and harder to recall the more time had passed in the Valley.

While they were conversing about Lord knows what, you ran back to your room, locking the door behind you and shaking. You didn’t know what to do or how to get out of it, your car was somewhere on the grounds and the guys were too preoccupied with whatever the hell they pleased with the flirty southern girls. You were in your room, alone, terrified that you weren’t going to make it out of this place alive. Panic rose like the bile in your throat and you didn’t know what to do anymore, all you could do was sit in your room while you hugged your legs to your chest, thinking of what you could do to get out of this situation.

Buckman was thinking of what he could do, he took a stroll down to see Crow further into the Valley and try to see what could be done. Crow was one of the few men he could trust, if anything, he would be the one to have an answer. He found the tall and broad man down by the stables where he knew the mayor would come for him.

“Boss, I figured you wouldn’t wanna consult with my dark magic any longer-” Crow began but Buckman cut him off.

“No, no, son, this isn’t about that. It’s about her,” he gestured to the guesthouse as he pointed a finger, “the girl who looks like my late beloved. You seen it too, Crow, I know you done did,” he glowered. “It’s her, reincarnated or what have you, back to either join me or torment me. She don’t remember who she is, Crow. Is that part of some dark magic?”

Crow looked over at the house and sighed, his mind processing everything. “Get me an audience with her and I can get you the information you need.”

“Bless ya, Crow, always so loyal.” He clasped the man on the shoulder and watched as he walked off, leaving the mayor alone once again with his thoughts.

What could he do but wait?

When Crow returned to him, his expression didn’t give Buckman what he’d been looking for. “What is it, didja find anything for me?” His hands were together, his fingers fidgeting as he looked up, almost desperately.

The man nodded and guided his mayor to a discreet location, away from prying ears so their guests couldn’t interfere. Once Crow looked around, listening for eavesdroppers, and deemed it safe, he looked back down at the mayor and kept a quiet voice.

“Boss, it’s her, no doubt in my mind that’s her. It has to be some form of reincarnation, ain’t no magic in or around her aura.”

Buckman clapped his hands sharply and took a deep breath. “Can we make her remember?”

“No tellin’ what we can do. I got a spell though, a potent one, I can cast it during dinner. Make sure she joins you and the rest, I’ll take it from there.”

That evening, you had been invited to dinner to join the mayor and his family, as Buckman called it, ‘an apology dinner’. He truly sounded sorry and maybe you did look like the woman he used to love, it happened. You chalked it up like that and nothing more, you just needed to survive long enough to make it through their party and get the hell out of there. Lying to yourself wasn’t foreign.

You attended as asked and sat beside your friend Theo and Buckman on the other side of you, his eye wandered over to you rather often, but he asked all of you questions, small talk mostly. When the tall, intimidating man known as Crow came into the room holding the large silver platter with several drinks on it, you watched him with unease until he left the room. After he approached you yesterday, you were much more skeptical of being alone in town, so you begged Connor and Theo to escort you wherever you went, but they figured you were just being paranoid. They agreed to, reluctantly of course, though that promise died quickly once they had been whisked away once again, lured away by the promise of tits and drinks.

Dinner though was more than you thought it would be, so you continued to speak when spoken to, your fork scooting your food across the plate as you did your best to avoid eye contact with the boys, the absence of Granny Boone made you more nervous than anything. After the conversation died down and dinner was removed from the table, Buckman took notice of how withdrawn you had been and nudged your arm gently, his smile warm and almost too kind.

“I know what I unloaded on you, it was a lot, but I hope there are no hard feelings, huh?” His eye landed on your drink, completely untouched and abandoned. His jaw clenched slightly and he would have to try something else without drawing too much attention.

You shifted in your seat and offered a pained smile. “Yeah, sure, I get it. Some people just look similar, and I’m sorry that you lost her, she must have been special.”

He wanted to tell you just how special she was, how special you were, but you didn’t need to be hounded by him even further, which would only push you further away from him to the point you wouldn’t even look at him. He needed to avoid that at all costs, but if he could just get you alone, even for a moment, he wouldn’t need to worry any longer.

Crow walked back into the room with a tray of drinks, holding it out toward you and Buckman, the both of you grabbing a mason jar of it. You thanked him quietly and he lingered only for a second more, though you were painfully aware of it, his eyes on the mayor. “I should probably head to bed, sir, it was very-”

“Please, darlin’, not yet, alright? Lemme share a stroll with ya, please?” He seemed so sincere, he just wanted to talk it out, and you were fair so you’d let him say his piece and hopefully move on. When you nodded in agreement, he looked like the happiest man in the world.

You both agreed upon a time this evening to meet, where you could relax after dinner and change, but you were having second thoughts about the entire thing. When you went to Theo and Connor’s room to talk about it, they never answered, they weren’t there. Annoyed, you went back to your room and sighed, slowly getting ready for your walk.

The Georgia summer heat was gone from the air, replaced with a light, cool breeze as the moon was high above in the sky, the bright light shining down and illuminating your skin. For a moment you had forgotten all about your worries, just enjoying the new surroundings, but once you heard the footsteps approaching you, your eyes widened and you whipped your body around to face them. It was only Buckman, looking as sheepish as ever as he held out a flower to you.

“A peace offerin’, if you’ll accept.”

You reached for it and held it up to your nose, smiling lightly. “Thank you.”

Your walk lasted all for ten minutes, you both were now away from the brightly lit town and standing near a lake where the moon was the most visible, your eyes stuck on it. It comforted you. Buckman was the first to break the silence as he looked around nervously like he was waiting for something -or someone.

“Y/N, I gotta explain to you that you look just like my dearly departed wife, the love of my life. You resemble her so much, it hurts, it pains me. But it also brings me comfort, she was the best thing to happen to me Y/N, and it pains me now to say that I can’t allow you to leave.”

You turned to meet his gaze, your heart pounded wildly as you stood frozen in place, afraid that if you spoke out of hand then he would act rashly. “Mayor, please-” You didn’t even realize that tears were already trailing down your face, the fear you felt well up within you so strong that you froze. You couldn’t think straight; where would you run? How would you get out? Too many obstacles with no real way to get through them. You were stuck.

Buckman pulled a small box from his breast pocket at the same time Crow had suddenly grabbed you from behind, immediately covering your mouth to mute the screams that failed to reach out across the field. The sudden overpowering odor from the cloth was too much and all you remember was seeing Buckman standing before you with that smile.

You awoke later, the moon still in the sky and the air still blowing that relaxing breeze against your skin, but it didn’t matter right now. You were tied to a large stake in the middle of the town, your hands bound in front of you rather than behind. The panic rose as their beloved mayor stepped closer, the entire populace surrounding you with tables lined with copious amounts of food. You were their honored guest after all.

“Sugarplum,” Buckman greeted softly, his hand out, gesturing to you that he wasn’t planning on hurting you, “please…”

You began to cry uncontrollably as he neared you, struggling against your bonds as you moved and wiggled, thrashing as best as you could to escape. “Please, please! I don’t want to die! I didn’t mean… I- I can’t!”

“Honey no, I would never lay a violent hand against you,” Bucky pleaded, his eye filled with remorse, wishing there was another way to get her back, to get you to come back to him. “Pleasant Valley is your home, it always was and always will be.”

Crow, Lester, Rufus, everyone looked up at you expectantly, hoping you would see things their way. You would never stay here, not with these people, you couldn’t ever see yourself loving a man who saw you as someone else. All you wanted was to go home.

“Let me go home, please,” you begged through your tears.

Buckman held your hand that poked through the ropes and slid the beautiful ring onto your finger, another pained smile sitting on his face. “Why sweetheart, you are home, you’re back home and you’re never leavin’ again, I’ll make sure of that.”

#tinalbion writings #slashers x reader #slashers imagine #slashers headcanons #mayor buckman x reader #mayor buckman imagine #mayor buckman headcanons #slashers requests #george w buckman #2001 maniacs

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