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sir-sunawani · 2 years ago

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Quicksand

Fem Reader x Sir Crocodile

20 Chapters - 46,838 words

Read it on Ao3 or Wattpad

CW: Language, violence, blood, moral ambiguity, murder, sexual themes and situations, yandere, angst with a happy ending, a referenced instance of physical abuse. 18+ only

Chapter 16: Feather Light

After the meeting the investors filed out of the office. The meeting had gone well, despite your concerns, and you were glad that Buggy filled the role of support for you. It was better if the investors saw you as the voice of authority and reason, otherwise they would go past you and deal with Buggy directly no matter what. Which would defeat the purpose of your role in dealing with them.

In addition to Buggy's support, Doflamingo spoke highly of you as well, even if he did bring up Rain Dinners and Crocodile at the same time, but it gave you credibility with the other investors.

When everyone else was gone, Doflamingo was still seated, smiling at you. You turned to Buggy and asked if you could borrow his office for a moment, and after making sure you were sure, he left.

You kept your distance from the Warlord, but you looked over at him.

"What do you-," you pause and shake your head. "Thank you for your... gift."

"It was quite the ordeal to get my hands on that phone," He admits, staying in the chair with that same terrible smile. "The look on his face though, when I visited him was-."

"I'm not going to talk about... that." You say, anger twisting your face for a moment before you composed yourself. "Right now, we're talking about you and me, Mr. Donquixote. Specifically, why I'm contingent on your investment in this company."

"You're a superb employee." He says, his grin almost seeming to grow. "So much so that you were amply rewarded with a meal at the most exclusive restaurant within 100 kilometers of your home, Miss (Y/N)."

"You know exactly why we were there." You roll your eyes in frustration. "What do you want?"

"Oh, we were having such a delightful conversation," his smile falters a little, but not by much and not for long as he stands up. "If it is straight to the point then, so be it. I want to get to know you, Miss (Y/N)."

"Absolutely not." You take a step back involuntarily, "I already know more about you than I care to, and I no intention to-." You couldn't move. "I ... what's happening?"

Doflamingo's fingers moved, and then so did you. The realization made your blood run cold.

He was a devil fruit user, and whatever it was, it allowed him to control your body.

"Twice now you've amused me unintentionally, Miss (Y/N)." He says with a soft chuckle, closing the distance between the two of you, and covering your mouth with his hand as he leans down to be more face to face with you. "Scream and I puppeteer your precious boss off the roof of this building, are we clear?"

You nod, surprised to find you could.

"You understand your position then, Miss (Y/N)?" He asks, removing his hand from your mouth and caressing your cheek.

"I have a pretty good idea, yeah." You admit, trying not to flinch at the touch that sends a cold chill through you.

"This Friday, I believe you will find yourself with time to spare," he says, holding out a card. "Be here, at the time indicated. Dress comfortably." He leans forward, speaking low into your ear. "Do anything to displease me, and you will not be the target of my displeasure."

You swallow hard as he tucks the card into the collar of your blouse.

"If something outside my control happens, how can I tell you?" You ask after he takes a step back. "A wreck, an act of the gods, that sort of thing."

"... My number is on the card," he says after a moment's silence. "Miss (Y/N), you should do everything within your power to make sure you can attend."

"I will- I know, I just..." You look up at him before looking away. "I'm not feeling much like luck's on my side lately."

That unsettling chuckle shifts lazily between you again. "Fair enough. I will ensure you find your way to that appointment safely." He promises you as his fingers move and your body is willed where he wishes. He lifts you up and sets you on Buggy's desk, sliding his arm around your waist and he takes a picture of the two of you. "The more you indulge me, my dear, the more of this will remain between you and I."

Your eyes go wide as the picture clicks your situation into place, the image of Crocodile against the concrete blocks comes to mind. That had been a cruel gift for you, and this could be a similar gift for him.

Even if he had decided to move on from his feelings, there was no way for you to know it. You couldn't tell him your decision any more than he could tell you his. It didn't matter what your feelings were, the fact of the matter was that the only shared point of contact the two of you had was Doflamingo, and the bastard could frame what he knew in a way that would work to his benefit.

You wanted to move on, you didn't want to hurt Crocodile in the process. At least no more than you could help. You could hope he harbored no more feelings for you, but the possibility that you were both still precious to each other was like a weight on your heart right now.

"I understand." You will the words to come forth, but there's no much energy behind them.

"As long as we have an understanding." He purrs, patting your shoulder gently before he walks away.

You feel your body relax as Doflamingo leaves the office, and after a moment you slide off the desk. You pull the card from your blouse and aren't surprised to see the card is for Baratie's. A time of 7pm is written on the front and the back has a phone number, one that you unfortunately recognize.

It had been saved on your phone for the last year under the capitalized heading of "Do Not Answer" ever since Doflamingo had called you a year ago.

. . . . . .

You had talked to Buggy afterward and told him pretty much everything. You didn't go into the details of the relationship you had with Crocodile – other than the fact that you had been dating - but you wanted Buggy to at least be in your corner entirely if you were going to have to deal with Doflamingo. Your boss' jaw had been practically on the floor for the entire conversation and you were a little surprised he hadn't sorted out that you were dating the CEO before now.

Buggy didn't seem like the sharpest knife in the box, but he was surprisingly good at picking up on things. Maybe he had simply put on blinders when it came to Crocodile – better to not know too much in that case. It could be it just wasn't something Buggy thought about himself. In all the time you'd known him you hadn't known him to have anyone on his arm, or even talk about it, and Buggy tended to talk about everything.

Friday you had taken half a day off work, and a couple of hours before you were due at Baratie's you were standing in your room, looking at the clothes in your closet.

It was requested that you dress comfortably. You weren't sure what exactly comfortably meant to Doflamingo, but comfortably to you meant slacks and a blouse. You were going to Baratie's so you couldn't wear jeans and a t-shirt, but you weren't going to wear the dress you had worn before. Even if you thought that was exactly what he wanted you to do.

It was a fine line you needed to walk, to maintain your dignity, and also to not displease Doflamingo to the point that he took his frustrations out on anyone else. Be it Crocodile, or Buggy, or even Alvida, as you were quite sure he was aware of all of your social connections at this point.

You realized you had a decent compromise available to you and pulled out a simple black dress. The neckline went down a bit further than you'd like – at least while being in Doflamingo's presence, but the cap-sleeved shoulders and the just-past-your-knees skirt length left the dress feeling cute and not sexy. A simple pearl necklace and some single pearl post earrings would make a bun hair style pull everything together in a more business than pleasure look.

This way you'd be dressed comfortably, and in a dress, and absolutely no miscommunications about your thoughts on the matter. With luck, it wouldn't be skirting on the wrong side of the line, but it's not like he bothered to buy you something, and quite frankly you were relieved about that. So this much should be fine.

With an hour to make it to the restaurant, you left your apartment. When you got downstairs there was a limo at the end of the walkway. You started to move around it and an older gentleman that was standing by the rear door cleared his throat. You tilted your head, looking at him curiously.

"The Young Master requested that I ensure you arrive at Baratie's safely, Miss (L/N)." He said, opening the back door of the limo for you and stepping aside.

Delightful.

"... Very well. It seems I am in your care, Mister?"

"You may call me Mr. G." He offers as you step inside the thankfully empty limo.

"Thank you, Mr. G."

The perk of the ride to the restaurant was that you didn't have to think about the fact that you were going to the restaurant. You didn't have to consider 6pm Friday evening traffic. Your nerves weren't frazzled by worrying about each passing minute no matter if the traffic was good or bad. You arrival was in the hands of one of his own men, and by association, could not be your fault no matter what.

The only thing that did bother you, was you currently had no easy way home. You had plenty of options available to you, but you were quite sure that you were going to have unfortunate company riding with you on the way back to your apartment.

When you arrived, you were surprised to see Doflamingo standing outside the restaurant. He was dressed plainly, or plainly for how you knew he preferred to dress. He was in a suit, but it was nothing special – muted colors, good fit, and his trademark glasses. He looked – as one expected an ex-model to look – good.

He looked more like the CEO of a pharmaceutical company than he did a model or a Warlord. It was as close to being undercover as you could've imagined him managing.

"Ah, Miss (Y/N), pushing boundaries already, I see." He muses, offering his elbow as you walked over to him.

"Hardly." You reply, accepting the offered arm as a means of keeping the peace. "If you required I dress a specific way, then you should've provided better parameters. I am dressed comfortably, and I'm dressed accordingly for Baratie's."

You got nothing more than a soft chuckle as a response as the two of you were seated. Doflamingo had taken over ordering for the both of you, and you focused on maintaining neutrality. You didn't want to give him anything to use to get under your skin with, and so going with the flow was the best bet. At least to a point.

"I must admit, Miss (Y/N), you're taking this more calmly than I had expected." He says after the waiter had left.

"It is what it is, I suppose." Your brows knit slightly, and you manage to look at him. "I just don't get why."

"You have theories, I'm sure." He leans back and motions toward you. "Share them, don't hold back. I'd rather ripe honesty than rotten platitudes."

"You called me a year ago, and we have a minute-long conversation, during which you admitted to having cloned my phone. Nothing for a year and then, just as my role in Buggy's organization changes, you... gift me... my old phone. The one that was taken from me for my protection. I have no idea how long you had it, or what you've done to it, I don't even know if it's safe for me to keep it." You shake your head and shrug. "I can't understand why you'd be focused on me, I'm nobody. Sure," you add before he can interject. "I had a relationship that made me someone to somebody, but that's been severed, and if your goal was to simply torment him, you could do so without wasting your time with me."

You sigh and take a sip of wine. "Either you miss him and are trying to while away the hours by tormenting me for your own amusement, or..." You make a face and shake your head. "No – It's not that."

"Mm, don't hold back on me now, Miss (Y/N)." Doflamingo says, and there's an edge to his bemused chuckle that makes you nervous.

"... Or you think you like me, and you're trying to sort that out." It sounded utterly laughable to say it out loud, but there's a silence that settles between the two of you that makes you uncomfortable. "And... that's not possible." You add after you can't take the silence any longer.

"Oh? You seem so sure about that." He leans forward, catching your gaze as he looks over his glasses.

You look away. "I am, I just don't know if I could say why without risk."

"Honesty may not always be pleasant, Miss (Y/N), but I won't punish you for it."

"There's no room for someone else in your heart, Mr. Donquixote." You say after a moment's consideration. "At best I'm a distraction, at worst you see me as a discarded toy and you're curious why he kept me around."

His smile freezes on his face for a moment, and you're unsure if he's shocked, angry, or simply unable to smile any wider than he already is. After a few moments of more uncomfortable silence, he speaks.

"What fascinates me, is how you reacted to his incarceration." Doflamingo says, a lazy smile on his face as he leans back in his chair. "You weren't surprised by the title he held."

You shake your head. "I knew what he was before I started working for him." You admit.

"And me?"

You nod, not wanting to put it to words. No matter what answer you gave – honest or not – it would've been entertaining for Doflamingo.

"Fufufufu, interesting." He leans forward as your meal is served. "You know all of us?"

"By name, at least." You answer evenly.

"How unusual." He muses for a moment, taking a bite or two of food before continuing. "Let's talk terms, Miss (Y/N)."

"Terms?"

He nods. "I do wish to get to know you. We'll say it's to sate my curiosity for now. You quite despise me, and I would prefer not to simply break you and toss you aside."

You were acutely aware of your position before now but hearing him put it so bluntly made your whole body go cold for a moment.

"Then..." You pause a moment to make sure he's done before you continue. "Don't let this effect my job and don't force me into anything physical."

He was silent for a moment before he smiles. "Don't lie to me, and don't try to worm out of dates with flimsy excuses. Do that, and I can promise I will honor your requests, my dear."

The rest of the dinner was spent dealing with the finer points of our arrangement. For simplicity's sake, and for his amusement, you were to simply be 'dating' if anyone asked. He was allowed to buy you gifts, and you were expected to keep them, but he wouldn't force you to use or wear them. You got him to agree to the caveat that he wouldn't bug anything either, but with your current situation, it wasn't like he needed to keep tabs on you.

So long as you dressed like someone who wanted to be going on dates, he wouldn't force a specific wardrobe on you. You were also forbidden from giving him the silent treatment on anything, the idea was, after all, for him to sate his curiosity. So long as you were honest, you would be okay.

The only thing left to do was play along to the best of your ability and hope he grew bored of you before you reached the end of your rope.

As you got home that evening you realized that it was more likely you'd reach the end of your proverbial rope. Donquixote had waited a year before he had sprung this trap, which meant he was far more patient that you would've guessed. You already knew how terribly manipulative he was, and you could only hope that no matter how long you had to endure this you wouldn't find yourself pulled along by that manipulation.

As you drifted off to sleep, you could've sworn you could smell the sweet scent of citrus and warm sand, and thought that your mind was desperately trying to soothe you the best it could.

#Quicksand #Sir Crocodile #x reader #sir crocodile x reader #one piece fanfiction #modern au #reader insert #yandere #grandline metro au

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clarafell · 4 months ago

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Growing up, Corbeau learned to appreciate birthdays being a chance to forget about daily worries and focus on yourself. Something she took pride in was working with what she had to make her sisters birthdays special despite the circumstances-- not just for the birthday person, but for other people around them too.

To Corbeau, Homura was no exception. In fact, Corbeau would argue that Homura needed something for her birthday the most out of anyone she had met in her lifetime. So, she set out to do just that-- a day of fun to let Homura enjoy herself.

"I think this might be to your liking, Homura dear." Corbeau approaches Homura with a palm-sized velvet box. Inside Homura would find a dainty silver necklace featuring a silhouette of a ballerina. With small amethyst stones lining the bottom of the tutu.

"You may be a powerful being now, but you are still human, and humans have birthdays that should be celebrated." Corbeau smiles, then claps her hands together. "And celebrations need food! Why don't we make something you enjoy? I'd love for the chance to learn about modern recipes together with you."

(from @deathdanse!)

unprompted ask / always accepting / @deathdanse

If the dolls were here, all fourteen of them, they would most likely surround Corbeau the instant their identical blue-eyed gazes locked on the gift-shaped box. They knew the birthday of their mistress fell on February 22nd, so they have been dropping hints about wanting to celebrate it ever since the month of love rolled around. The hints started off subtle, something she can easily ignore, but they began to become increasingly obvious to the point Corbeau noticed it. If they couldn't convince their mistress to celebrate, then someone else will no doubt do it for them. Corbeau worked perfectly...except for her timing, that is.

"Oh, you didn't have to buy me anything. Your mere presence in this new age, your willing decision to join my cause, is more than enough. A physical gift, even if it's for my birth, is not needed," Homura explained calmly, still eyeing the fine-looking box. She worried Corbeau would be swindled the moment she got more money her previous life got to enjoy. Rather than getting conned out of her money, she chose to spend the money on her.

"It is quite beautiful, Corbeau. I may disagree with the need for celebrations for my birthday, but you do have quite good tastes..." Homura admits quietly as she leaned forward to examine the necklace, taking in the shimmer of the amethyst gemstone. With a small sigh of defeat, slender hands move to gather her long hair. It's a silent request for Corbeau to help her put on the necklace. The silver chain is thin, indicating the clasp will be annoying to handle herself. She hoped this lovely necklace of the ballerina is the only gift, purely because the dolls will get jealous if she received multiple gifts.

"How much did this cost you?" Homura inquired as soon as the lovely necklace is around her formerly naked neck. The real question is how much it cost her, but the money became Corbeau's property as soon as she slid the money over. Rather than forcing Corbeau to try to figure out new currency, a simple card as well as easy numbers to remember was easier to handle. It's a smoother transition, though that meant it would be easier for Corbeau to do as she pleases. Technology is still a struggle for her, but that's okay since Corbeau can still fight when needed.

"Now we must celebrate with food?" Goodness, that sounded like a good idea to alert the dolls on a party. They did not need food, but they still ate as if she starved them. If they weren't eating, then they liked to play with their food as much as they enjoyed toying with any living targets. Eventually, they will return back to her home once their duties were over... Either way, she didn't want to take the risk of making a homemade meal at her home since they were bound to find out.

"How about this, Corbeau: We can go eat anywhere you have been wanting to try out. Anywhere at all, not even in Japan. I don't mind where since I can still get there with you. Let's try something new together, shall we?" Homura finally relents, unable to ignore Corbeau's joyfulness for long. She hasn't celebrated her birthday properly in a long time, but the sudden attention still affected her.

The dolls will not be invited.

#❛ ✧ ┊ arc ┊ let the curtain rise on tonight's dream.#❛ ✧ ┊ the fairy tale gets a little darker after midnight. answered.#❛ ✧ ┊ beware of those bloody thorns. ic.#deathdanse #(love how corb would only know about homu's b-day because of the gremlins)

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reallovee · 5 years ago

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latestbreakingnewsupdates · 5 years ago

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UGC NET 2020 exam postponed; Will be held from 24 September - Latest Breaking News

UGC NET 2020 exam postponed; Will be held from 24 September – Latest Breaking News

[ad_1]

New Delhi: The National Testing Agency (NTA) has finally released the UGC NET June-September exam date.

According to the release, that UGC NET exam will now be held from September 24, 2020. The remaining details will be released soon on the official website – https://data.nta.ac.in/.

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szallejhscorner · 2 years ago

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King of Diamonds - Part IV

•♦•♦• When Chishiya Shuntarou accepted to remain in the Borderlands as a citizen, I knew there was nothing I could do but to accept as well. •♦•♦•

The tall woman dropped down on Chishiya’s bed since he occupied the only available chair in the room while I leant against the desk. She obviously knew more than I did, which would explain why she had known about the medical wing. “How?” I asked aloud, but it was Chishiya who answered.

“You’ve been a citizen already before the relaunch”, he stated. It wasn’t even a question and Rikki nodded, pretty much unimpressed by his observing skills.

She scratched her chin and turned around to the door for a second, where another patient was shuffling down the hallway. “This has been my third relaunch since choosing to stay here”, Rikki explained. “The days locked up in those rooms are boring, but you get used to it.”

So many questions roamed around in my head, and yet I held back because asking all of them would for sure make me look dumb. It was hard, but I tried to stay patient and wait for Chishiya to answer some of them. He hummed, thinking about what Rikki had just said.

“It makes sense. I don’t know how many players accepted the citizenship, but there have to be more than the number needed for the face cards.”

“You’re quite a clever one, aren’t you!” Rikki laughed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m sure you already know that citizens aren’t forced to play games. We have no visa anymore and thus don’t rely on a game to stay alive. Basically, one could stay here for decades and die a natural death.” She shrugged and rolled her eyes, indicating that this wasn’t what she had in mind. “However, I haven’t met anyone so far who did that. Everyone wants to be part of the big games eventually.”

We weren’t forced to play. It would be possible for Chishiya and me to stay here for months, maybe even years, without endangering our lives. I assumed that this building would continue to provide food and everything, so it would even be a comfortable live, if I ignored all the dying people.

I knew though, that Chishiya would never do that. He didn’t decide to become a citizen just to relax and do nothing.

“What about you, then?” I asked Rikki, “do you plan to stay here forever?”

“Hell, no!” she snorted and leant back against the wall, pulling her knees up to her chest. It almost made her look innocent; not like someone who beat the game of the Borderlands. “Three rounds have been enough. It’s always the same, you know? People come here and are confused and scared. Some form a bigger alliance – the Beach, the Red Church… There’s one in every round. They beat the games until the second stage. Face games start. Sometimes the players win, sometimes they lose. If they win, it means new citizens for us. Yay. Anyway, the relaunch happens. Again. And again. And again, and again. It’s impressing the first time, maybe even the second time. But I’ve seen it all now. I want action!”

“Red Church? Sounds like a conspiracy, if you ask me.”

Rikki scoffed, probably thinking back to that round. “It was! They were even crazier than the people from the Beach. Praised the lasers as some kind of god, you know? Death brought by justice, bla bla bla… Justice won’t help you here if you’re too weak. It’s a game, after all.”

Chishiya had faced the window, seemingly lost in whatever he saw out there, but I knew he was listening. “God is a gambler”, he hummed, but didn’t explain his thoughts further. He didn’t believe in God, and before I could question what he was trying to tell us, he continued: “You’ll participate in the games this round, then.”

I noticed how he winced again and shifted just so slightly. The wounds had to cause him pain still, even though he’d never admit it. At least I was sure now that they’d be treated well enough for him to feel better soon.

“I’ll apply for becoming the Roamer, once all spot cards are collected”, Rikki stated with pride and excitement in her voice.

Bit by bit, I begun to realize that this world was much more complex than I had originally thought. It was not just about beating games. The people who arrived here could either be a player or a dealer, I knew that much from my time at the Beach and from the dealer’s base. Though we weren’t given a choice here; it was probably a random distribution. Since the players had won the first stage, all of the dealers had been killed. Thus I assumed that if all players had died during those first games, the dealers would have won and would have been given the choice to stay.

Now, all those survivors who decided to accept turned into citizens. Citizens didn’t have to play games, but since Mira and Kuzuryuu had attended some of them anyway, we were obviously allowed to. For fun, so we wouldn’t get bored until the second stage? Or as a cover so normal players wouldn’t see through us?

Once the face cards were up, citizens could try to beat the remaining players in much harder games. It was a free choice, though, and apparently we were even allowed to choose which card we wanted to be. “A roamer?” I muttered, and again it was Chishiya who put one and one together and answered my question.

Without turning his gaze from the window, he concluded: “Like the King of Spades.”

Following his gaze, I saw that the patio was filling with people now that the rooms weren’t locked anymore. Had the new games begun already? Had new players already appeared?

Rikki clapped her hands. “A clever one, indeed! Exactly, like the King of Spades. Only that I’ll be the Queen, of course.” She brushed back her hair, trying to make it look majestic, which didn’t quite work due to the shortness of her hair. “There always needs to be a roamer to spice things up a little, you know?”

Chishiya nodded, and I noticed that his smirk had returned. “Otherwise the players would just hide somewhere and wait for the others to clear all games, premised they have yet enough days on their visa.”

“Yes, yes, yes! This would be soo boring, wouldn’t it? But the roamer, they are a force of nature. A hurricane, even reaching the deepest of cellars and the darkest of rooms!” Rikki was almost screaming now, her voice full of excitement and her eyes glowing even wilder. “Shirabi did such a good job as the King! I mean, you have seen him. He was splendid!”

What she said made me swallow. The King of Spades had been a ruthless murderer. No other citizen had killed as many people as he did, and he had been heartless, fearless, absolutely horrific and frightening. He had been a hunter, able to track every single player through a device with an endless amount of ammunition. Splendid would have been the very last word coming to my mind when I thought about him.

And yet, the fact that Rikki knew him by name assumed that she had known him, which somehow made him human again. A monster, but still human. And it reminded me that he had also started as a normal player. He had defeated all the games, had chosen to stay here and then accepted to become the King of Spades. Now, with a new game starting, Rikki would take his place. She would hunt down players and slay dozens of them, until one of them would manage to kill her in return.

Why was I surprised? The mere fact that she sat here in front of me was enough proof that she wasn’t as innocent as I wanted her to be. Still… I had hoped for us to become friends. Could I be friends with someone who was willing to do such a terrible thing?

“You’ll be a mass murderer”, I whispered, unable to keep that thought unspoken.

Unimpressed by my reaction, Rikki sighed. “It’s a showoff of my abilities. If I’m stronger than the rest, they’ll die. If someone is stronger than me, I’ll die. It’s as simple as that. Always has been.”

Chishiya’s lips slightly parted, telling me that he had lost interest in our conversation and was now thinking about something else. Knowing him pretty well by now, I could guess what it was.

Being one of the smartest people in the Borderlands, it was obvious that the only type of game good enough for him would be Diamonds. He probably was reliving the Diamonds games he had won, especially how he had beaten Kuzuryuu. I hadn’t been there and didn’t know details about the game, but I tried to imagine how Chishiya would sit there, hovering above the other players as their enemy. With one of the players probably clever enough even to outsmart the cold-hearted blonde.

“What about you?” Rikki threw in when the silence grew too thick, and her head was slightly tilted when she watched me closely. “Clubs, maybe? I think a balanced game would suit you most. Something where you won’t have to dirty your hands with the blood of others, eh?” She stuck out her tongue, clearly having fun with this.

I couldn’t laugh about it, though. “To be honest… I don’t want to participate in a game at all. I… am not suited for a face card.”

“Aaanyway!” Stretching her upper body, Rikki eventually got up from the bed and pat my shoulder. The touch almost made me flinch, but I told myself to keep it together. Rikki was a monster no less and no more than the rest of us. She just did what this world wanted us to do, and it made her happy. Besides, she didn’t force me to do the same. People here were not only black and white, not solely good or bad. There were many things in between, and Rikki seemed to be funny and kind. If she didn’t talk about killing people with the same excitement as visiting a theme park.

“Time for me to catch up with friends. Watch some of the new players, and all that. See you around!” She said, and then she was gone, even having the decency to close the door behind her.

I let out a long sigh and wrapped my arms around Chishiya’s shoulders, in desperate need for something non-murderous now. Of course I tried to be careful so I wouldn’t hurt him, and Chishiya didn’t turn away.

“Three days, and you already befriended the Queen of Spades”, he muttered with both acknowledgement and mockery in his voice.

I huffed and buried my face deeper into his shoulder so he wouldn’t see my pout. “Shut up.”

There was so much to think about. All the information Rikki had given us, that I needed to process. Questions that had been left unanswered. Answers that had only led to more questions.

At least Chishiya was next to me, dwelling in his own thoughts, not even complaining as I fulfilled my need for some physical affection. The sky outside turned dark and windows lit up all around the patio. Soon enough, red lasers would emerge from the sky and kill those who didn’t renew their visa or lost a game.

I remembered the day I had arrived here, clueless about how the Borderlands worked. My first game had been easy enough and victory more luck than skill, but many others hadn’t been that lucky.

Rikki had answered many questions, but one huge information had never been given to me:

Why had we come here, in the first place? What was the Precondition to strand here? There seemed to be a never ending flow of new players, and yet not a single soul knew why. Or if someone knew, they hadn’t told me yet.

#aib #alice in borderland #chishiya shuntaro #king of diamonds

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darsynia · 2 years ago

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Trust Fall | Ch 14a

ARC image by Eury Escodero | image by @superherocaps

Story Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary: Tony/OC, ‘terrorists made us fall in love;’ IM1 timeline. In this chapter, Emory tries to figure out where she is.

Length: 2,793

Tags (please don’t hesitate to ask!): @starryeyes2000 @raith-way @arrthurpendragon @starksbf @themaradaniels @chickensarentcheap @tiny-anne

Excerpt:

“Optimistically? 40 points,” Tony says, working at his tie with one hand. He keeps his body angled in a way that Pepper can’t see what he’s doing, because he doesn’t want her to fret about the brewing argument here, and if she sees him struggle with the tie, she’ll get up to help.

Stane’s eyebrows go up. “At minimum.”

What follows is a completely reasonable argument on Stane’s part about what’s feasible as a company. Tony remains steadfast, even as he notes Obie’s eyes drifting down to his chest multiple times. Obie clearly knows. If Tony weren’t so worried about Emory, if she were waiting for him at the house and he knew she was safe, he would be making notes about the number of times he has already thought about her so he could make her laugh tonight. She’d be particularly amused about the way he feels almost objectified, how the fact of what he’s carrying on his chest is a weight between himself and Obie, a hidden aspect of the conversation. He wants to ask her if that’s what having breasts like hers is like, wants her to slap him, wants to make it up to her. He just wants.

Chapter Fourteen: [weather redacted in report of unexplained incident in Afghanistan]

It is very clear to Emory that she is under intense observation. Her room is smaller than a typical dorm room, and something about it feels wrong, like it’s being re-used as a hospital room instead of designed for that purpose. The lack of a window is particularly strange, and she gets up to look around, grabbing her IV pole to roll it around with her. The bag attached to her tubing is empty, and she is tempted to pull the whole thing out, but that would likely draw attention. It is strange to her that she’s been dressed in scrubs instead of a hospital gown, though-- another indication that something is not quite normal.

When Emory approaches the door, she sees that the metal box above it has shining new screws drilled into chipped, ancient paint. The box has a steady red light which blinks green seconds before the door opens to admit ‘Nurse Kate.’

Emory tells her she needs to use the bathroom, and remarks on the lack of a call button. The agent/nurse says something noncommittal about the call button and leads her to a different door (with another metal box, this one near the knob) requiring a card scan to open. The hallway beyond is under construction and dead-ends with a few tall file cabinets blocking the path.

The bathroom itself is multi-stall, and her guardian waits by the sinks. When Emory goes to flush the toilet, it makes a terrible sucking noise and doesn't fill back up. The sink itself is set to a trickle.

It’s almost like they’re afraid of what I could do with the water! Emory tells herself. Someone’s clearly got a wild imagination. After seeing just how much air she needs to gather to do anything of consequence, it is laughable to think that she could manage to get enough water from an office bathroom to accomplish anything more than getting her blonde guard soaking wet.

Nurse Kate lets Emory precede her into the room, and Emory angles her path back to the bed carefully, her mind racing. At the last second, she turns to face the agent and backs up so she is leaning against the only viable exit. The woman stops and stands casually, legs apart, hands at her hips. If movies and TV are accurate about agent-types having gun holsters at their center back, Emory is certain this woman has one.

“Under whose authority are you holding me here?” she asks, wishing she had pockets to sink her hands into to hide how much they shake. Tony’s voice in her head tells her that obvious distress might be to her advantage, if they’re worried about what she might be capable of.

“Well,” the agent pretending to be a nurse says, tipping her head sideways and smiling with what is almost but not quite a sweet expression, “Primarily, we’re just trying to make sure you’re medically sound. Beyond that, there could be some security concerns.”

“For me? Or for the population at large?” Emory asks, surprised. It doesn’t seem to read as surprise to her guard, though.

“See, that? That’s just telling on yourself,” Nurse Kate points out.

“Or I’m bluffing.” Emory shrugs, sliding the IV pole in front of her like a shield.

“Well, the difference between the two is the authority under which you’re being held.”

“And that meeting I requested?”

“Are you blocking the door in hopes of advancing that timeline?”

Emory looks behind her as if she hadn’t realized where she was standing. “Are we playing that game where we keep asking a question until the person who doesn’t loses?”

The agent/nurse does an exaggerated shrugging maneuver and silently starts toward Emory. Emory steps aside just enough for the door to open, looking up at the light. Just as she thought it might, the light turns green before the woman touches the door. It hadn’t turned green until the other woman had approached. That probably means there’s a second person watching everything that’s going on, hitting a button to let her fake nurse back out. The other option is that her badge also unlocks this door within a certain proximity, which might be useful.

The woman opens the door, and Emory throws a hand out to stop it. Immediately, Nurse Kate spins into a clearly combative stance, a hand flying out to hold onto the door underneath Emory’s own grip.

“Can I have a book or something to do?” Emory asks in a friendly voice, as if that was the purpose of stopping the door. She now has confirmation that the woman standing opposite her is a special agent of some kind, one prepared to fight her if necessary.

With a decisive head shake, the woman walks through the open space, yanking the door out of Emory’s hand. She doesn’t even seem upset, despite the possible display of ego in not wanting to ‘lose’ the verbal spar.

“What, you think I’ll get bored and play with some sort of magical superpower?” Emory says aloud, laughing.

She has learned more about her situation, though most of the information is functionally useless. The room is for her, she’s sure, with a new security system on one door, though the badge scanner on the other seems like it’s been there for a while. If she had to guess, Emory would say she’s in a dis-used wing of a governmental building, as evidenced by the creative blockade at the end of the hallway. Her room feels like it was originally maybe some kind of small lobby with a reception desk, one that agents or employees would have to pass through to reach offices beyond the badge scan.

Emory climbs back into her bed and starts fiddling with the velcro of her former restraints. It seems like whoever has ordered her confinement is both concerned and creative. However, if she’s right and they’re hoping she’ll display her abilities in frustration or boredom, they’ve checked their logical sense at the door.

She just spent how long stuck in a cave with practically nothing to do? And how exactly did she get out of there? Oh, right. She escaped.

Is that what they want her to try to do now? Emory’s not discounting that option, but what she really wants are answers. It’s been about an hour since she woke up. She decides not to try anything or complain until the next morning at the very least, which gives her a chance to observe the room overnight.

The problem is that to pass the time, Emory absolutely cannot think about Tony, not if she wants to thwart Nurse Kate and whoever is employing her. She’ll have to distract herself, which she has practice doing. Emory pulls the blanket over her head as usual, and then laughs. She’d only started practicing her singing like this because she’d both wanted to hide and wanted to feel less self-conscious, but now it’s a habit, one that probably looks suspicious. It’s not the best thing for a singer to do, but by now, it’s comforting, and she definitely needs that right now. Somewhere out there in the world, she knows that Tony’s arm hurts, and she’s not there to joke about the large number of pain relief options he has access to now. It feels so strange to think that if she pulled the blanket back down, he wouldn’t be there.

The familiar tingle of energy build-up sheaths her arms, and Emory sighs. She’s going to have to push away these thoughts, but Tony’s been a part of her daily life for so long that it’s like a part of her is missing.

That thought brings back the memories she’d tried to bury out of necessity.

Yinsen.

Just like that, her power dissipates, as if a switch has been thrown.

Emory pulls the blanket down off of her face so she can breathe freely. The weight of grief and guilt pull her into the fetal position on the bed, though she’s careful not to dislodge the IV. She hopes that his soul is at peace along with his family. His confession that they’d been dead the whole time was another truth that Emory had shoved aside the day of their escape, and now seems like exactly the right time to wallow in how horrible that feels.

Maybe her misery will work out to be an advantage anyway, if AgentNurse Kate is watching through her hidden surveillance cameras. She might worry about Emory’s grief and whether it’s dangerous. If Emory could have her way, no one would feel at ease tonight, not when someone so kind, intelligent, and morally just has just been taken from the world.

There had been an officious man standing beside Pepper. That’s the thing Tony focuses on-- not the uproar of press questions, not Stane’s horrified laughter as he shuffles Tony away from the podium, not the near-constant sound of camera shutters clicking as they leave the room. The three of them, Tony, Obie, and Pepper, take the private elevator on the way up to Tony’s office, and despite the fact that his arm has started to ache again, Tony can’t stop himself from laughing.

“What could possibly be funny?” Obie asks. Fury emanates from every pore, every letter of every word.

“I’m destined to be stuck in confined spaces in groups of three, it seems.”

“Tony--” Pepper’s concerned voice breaks off when he reaches out and squeezes her hand briefly. Obie’s huff of frustration sets Tony’s own temper off, in a way that his hurried, desperate reassurals to the press hadn’t.

“What, that’s too far? Comfort? What a shock. You’ve never been great at that, as I recall,” he snaps, seeing the words hit and feeling a perverse sort of glee in seeing their impact. They’re true but unfair. Obie had stepped in and kept the company afloat while Tony himself had made bad choices with miraculous outcomes, over and over again, until he’d pulled himself together enough to head Stark Industries himself. There hadn’t been much time for comfort, and his younger self probably wouldn’t have appreciated it anyway.

“Tony!” Pepper gasps. “You’re-- you’re shaken up. Not yourself.”

The elevator door opens and Tony doesn’t want to look at the room beyond, because the thing he wants --the person he wants to see-- won’t be there. Stane pushes past to stalk into the room, leans down to rest both hands on the desk for a second before spinning around to point directly at him.

“You need to take some time before you put yourself out there again. That was--” he pauses, rubs a hand over his face, and the person that emerges is the exact same jovial, glad-handing executive that had tried to smooth everything over minutes before. “I’m, I’m glad you’re okay. Okay, Tony? I’m glad. But decisions this big after an event like that--”

Tony propels himself out of the elevator fueled primarily by outrage. “After seeing the kind of people who have access to our weapons and moving decisively to stop it? Is that the event you’re referring to?”

He walks right up to Obie, and it’s only because his arm hurts like hell that he doesn’t reach up and do the thing that Stane always loves to do, adjust Tony’s collar, pat the fabric paternally, like he actually ever gave a fuck. How long has this man used his jolly attitude to cover his contempt? Would Tony have ever realized it without spending time with Yinsen and learning to recognize the practice?

“So, what? That’s it?” Stane asks, holding his hands out and letting them drop with a sound as they strike his leg. “You against the world? There’s no need to do that, Tony, and I gotta tell you, trying to go it alone will just make it easier for people to ignore you. I may be many things to many people, and I’m not good at all of them, I’ll admit it. One thing I am good at? PR. But you brought this down on my head with no warning, and it’s going to take a hell of a lot of goodwill to fix that.” He puffs out a breath and shakes his head, chuckling, once again returning to his True North when dealing with Tony, exasperated amusement. “What’s your over/under on the stock drop for tomorrow, do you think?”

Tony looks over his shoulder to see that Pepper’s settled herself down at the chair beside his desk. She’s got a notebook out on the desk beside her, and there are a few lines written on it, but her hands are in her lap. She is a picture of studied calm. He’s pretty sure she’s taking notes as surreptitiously as possible; it’s exactly what he needs from her, at exactly the moment he needs it. Tony throws her a little smile of gratitude, feeling a tiny sting of guilt when her reaction to seeing such an expression from him is surprise.

That makes him think of Emory too.

Stane’s eyebrows go up. “At minimum.”

“I think we should take another look into ARC reactor technology,” Tony interrupts. Obie’s lips turn downward, and he flicks a sheepish glance at Tony’s face like he knows he’s been caught before shaking his head.

“Nah, come on, that was a publicity stunt! We built that thing to shut the hippies up!”

What follows is another conversation full of pushback, but he knows Stane’s just stalling. Finally, they both stop arguing and just level suspicious looks at each other for a full fifteen seconds.

Tony just knows that if he looked over at Pepper, she’d be the very picture of anxiety. He decides to put her out of her misery. “Could you have a lousier poker face? Just tell me, who told you? Rhodey? Or Pepper?”

“Told him what?” Pepper interjects. Tony turns to look at her and she’s wide-eyed, her brows furrowed.

“Rhodey didn’t tell-- You’re kidding, right?” he demands, shocked.

“You were with us the whole time! Harry was driving, I was in the back--”

“Hold on, Harry?” Tony interrupts, bewildered.

Pepper’s face turns bright red. “It’s-- y-ou were gone, Tony. He, the nickname, it, it felt like a farce, neither of us could--”

Tony waves a hand to cut her off. “All right, okay, got it.” Her extreme embarrassment and stuttering response tells Tony that the moment he’d seen on the tarmac might have been something private and meaningful to Happy and Pepper. He sets that world-tilting notion aside for the moment.

Stane rests a heavy hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Show me.”

“All right,” he agrees, releasing the velcro on his sling.

“Tony, what--?” Pepper gets up and comes over, taking the sling before it falls to the floor.

He unbuttons his shirt with the two of them staring at him in amazement. It’s not hard to feel a little bit like Superman when he pulls the two sides open so they can see the reactor more clearly.

“Oh, my God,” Pepper whispers. “Is that… stuck? In your chest?”

He looks from her to Obie. At first, the man’s intrigued, but then his expression shifts. Tony recognizes the look, because it’s the same one Stane has always worn when Tony brought him a schematic, an improvement, an innovation.

Somewhere in the man’s head, a voice is saying, How do we monetize this?

He’d spent years enjoying the process of earning that look in Stane’s eyes, but today it’s concerning.

Next chapter, Tony starts making threats and gathering information to find Emory, and she makes the acquaintance of a man named Nick Fury.

#tony stark x oc #tony stark fanfiction #tony stark x original character #tony stark imagine #iron man fanfiction #iron man #iron man x oc #iron man x original character #mcu #mcu fanfiction #mcu fanfic #marvel #marvel fanfic #tony stark #series: autonomy #ocfairygodmother #fyeahsuperverseocs

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quinloki · 2 years ago

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Quicksand

Fem Reader x Sir Crocodile

CW: Language, violence, blood, moral ambiguity, murder, sexual themes and situations, yandere, angst with a happy ending, a referenced instance of physical abuse. 18+ only

Chapter 1 - Table of Consent -