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cherryheairt · 2 days ago

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Law of Attraction ch.2

Chishiya x reader fic series

Chapter two: The Beach

chapter one here

Masterlist

There was nothing left to do but move forward. Since your first game, unfortunately not your last as you grew to find out from a sobbing woman who pleaded for your and Niragi's help to end her before the lasers did on her final ‘visa’ day (which only ended with you covered in blood and Niragi laughing in your face and being no help), you had been traveling through Tokyo on foot. There was no electricity anywhere besides games that distantly lit up, being narrowly avoided by you both until further notice, and although you knew all the other people in this abandoned world were stranded here just like you, you didn't trust any of them.

Desperation made people do crazy shit.

Every noise made you flinch and study the origin, leaving Niragi terribly irate at your jumpiness. He had found a gun somehow, just a little handheld pistol to defend the both of you, but it still made your tenseness fade ever so slightly. On the third day of idleness, Niragi brought up a good point.

“We need to find a game tonight.” He said firmly. “I'm not ending up a bloody mess on the side of the road like that chick.”

“That woman just wanted out. It's not a crime to choose rather than doom yourself to having no say in your own death.” Your words made him quiet for a long moment as you both scanned the windows of the department store you locked up in for the previous night.

Nothing was amiss it seemed, and you took to padding around to find fresh clothes and hygiene products.

“We'll be fine. The games aren't impossible to win.”

You hummed from the hair care aisle. “We don't know that. Thirteen people died in our first day—and I think that was meant to be an easy game.”

“Easy?” He asked, trailing after you. “Sure, maybe after we figured it out, but I'd rather not almost drown again.” The reminder that you owed him your life laid heavy in your heart.

“That's not what I mean. Do you remember the AI's information? She said: Three of Diamonds. Like a deck of cards. If we go off of that, three would be one of the easiest games we would face.”

Niragi had the sense to pale slightly. “What if Diamonds stands for difficulty, too, though. Like, 1-13, but Spade, Club, Diamond, and Heart are leveled 1-4?”

You pondered the idea. It could be, yes, but with the game's objective, you doubted it. “I think Diamonds are a game of intelligence.”

Niragi rolled his eyes but didn't seem too hung up on it. “Great, intelligence games with a bartender. I might not be able to cash in this life debt after all.”

Glaring, you tossed him a pack of hairties. “I'm in college, dipshit. It's not like you came in with a lab coat on, either.”

He turned his head, scoffing. “I design and code game software. Graduated university: top of my class, thank you.”

You both sat in uneasy silence for a while. You broke it first, changing the topic entirely. “I didn't give you those for nothing. Tie back your hair, it got in the way in our first game, I don't want it to happen again.”

Niragi awkwardly fumbled with his midnight black strands of hair, but with no mirror and presumably no experience, it became hard to watch. “You've never put your hair up?” You asked, bemused.

Niragi clicked his tongue irritatedly. “I'll do it later.”

“Give it,” You nearly growled out, snatching it from him and urging him to lean down but the heel of your palm, earning an offended noise from the man. You tied it half-back in a manbun-esque style. Studying your work once he stood back up straight and eyed you with a slightly flustered expression crossing his sour face, you snickered in satisfaction. “Much better. We can see your pretty face now.”

Although it was a half-hearted joke, Niragi seemed to take it as an insult rather than a friendly tease. He scowled at you and continued prowling through the aisles with a heavier step.

After having little luck, you both decided to move on. With your find, you were able to change from your, frankly quite gross, tank and jeans and into more breathable athleticwear that allowed you to freely move around. Niragi didn't get the memo, instead changing from his standard office attire and into black jeans and a loose-fitted silky button-up. He vehemently ignored your barely concealed look of judgement, humming out loud as you looked around the city streets. It was evening now, when the game venues all started to light up and people could sometimes be spotted if you looked from a high vantage point.

He nodded towards a warehouse arena that had lit up moments ago. It seemed to be an old candy-making factory judging by the brightly colored LEDs, but you weren't quite sure. “That one's close.”

“What type do you think it is?” You asked, stashing your bag under the cash register in an old corner store deli. The smell was absolutely awful in it, but you knew it would repel any scavengers who weren't so lucky in their own pickings.

“It's a big arena.” He sniffed, not saying a smart-ass comment like you had started to expect over the past few days. “Physical game, I'd guess. Lots of space to hide or run away in.”

“I'm pretty good at hide and seek.” You said optimistically, earning a genuine laugh from your companion.

“Let's hope it is, then.”

🍒

The warehouse was, in fact, a candy factory. It still smelled sickly sweet as you both wandered through the employee entrance door. It was a pristine grey everywhere, quite a depressing place of work but sleek and clean nonetheless. Conveyor belts were seen through the open gate doors and giant palettes of differently packaged candies were stacked nearly to the ceiling. The sight was nauseating and you avoided looking to the top, hoping that none would be knocked over any time soon. In a smaller area people piled in quickly after.

Some were clearly experiencing their first game, eyes glossed with fear and confusion. Some were wary of others, backing to walls and observing their opponents with hard stares. Most seemed to collectively be anxious and alone, a select few coming in with another at their shoulder.

One particular duo caught your eye, looking out of place next to other pairs. About the same height, one styled his medium-length wavy and greasy hair into a loose bun at the back of his head, facial hair lining his uniquely handsome face as he glanced over everyone with a hopeful gleam in his eyes. Even his wardrobe was eccentric, a fedora with sunglasses stacked on top of it adorning his head and a colorful shirt-slack combo. The other was his stark contrast, buzzcut hair and wearing a simple outfit of a black wife-beater and matching cargo jeans, showing off muscled arms. Military, easy, and possibly your most dangerous enemy or valuable ally in a game of brawn.

You shared a glance with Niragi, who also caught interest in the new additions. Only mere moments after they walked in, the door shut behind them and the AI's voice rang. Stepping closer to Niragi, you looked to your phone for the instructions.

“Player Requirement met. Closing registration…”

“Game: Laser Tag. Difficulty: Five of Spades.”

A five. On the presumed scale of 1-13 like you guessed, a five was still on the easier side. Five days would be added to your visa if you survived, providing ample time to set up a secure home base for you and Niragi.

Niragi seemed satisfied, patting his handgun with a pleased grin. “That sounds promising.”

“Rules: Two teams will be assigned from the 28 players in the game. The Red and Blue teams will use their provided laser guns to play one round of laser tag.”

“How many lives do we get?” A nervous young voice spoke out, leading your eyes to a teenage boy dressed in a grimy t-shirt and pajama pants. He'd been here for days already, used to the games but not acclimated enough to find supplies. He was scrawny, collarbones visible under his thin shirt and cheeks hollow like he'd not eaten in days. “In the arcade, its always three.” He says, hugging himself.

You hummed assuringly. “Maybe. Or whatever team gets the most tags.” You said, slightly reluctant but knowing no one else would speak up and comfort him. He weakly smiled at you, shuffling ever so slightly closer to your pairing.

A door clicked open, revealing an employee break room that held coat racks of vests with attached guns, classic arcade style. “Can we pick our teams?” You whispered to Niragi, shivering at the temperature drop that seemed to happen after the rules explained. He didn't reply.

Grabbing a vest from the rack, you shrugged it over your shoulders and strapped it across your chest. Next to you, the teenage boy followed your lead and did the exact same actions. Picking up a gun each, the players all glanced around at each other with distrust in their eyes and tense bodies. Niragi was confidently standing almost entirely in front of you, blocking most people from your view—or looking at you. Unconsciously or not, you were grateful.

The timer dinged while counting down time for players to gear up. Seeing the boy's grip shaking over the hold of his trigger, you reached out and placed your own over his. Muttering, you comfortingly said: “It's okay. Treat it just like you're out playing laser tag with your friends. Do you go to the arcade often?”

Swallowing harshly, he nodded. “Almost every weekend.”

You smiled. “I haven't been in years. If we're on opposite teams, go easy on me.”

He laughed, nodding softly. “I'm Hoshiko.”

You told him your own in turn, and the timer finally stopped. The room went completely dark, and mutters released into the room. The vests all lit up at once, lighting it in blue and red. Looking down at your gun, you found that you were blue. Niragi turned to you, smirking when he saw your colors matched. “Watch my back this time.” He said plainly.

Hoshiko was blue, too, and you let out a subtle sigh of relief. “Take care of me.” You said, nudging his arm. He nodded with furrowed brows, seemingly set in his goal.

“Clear condition: Do not get hit with a laser gun. Time limit: 20 minutes.”

You sucked in a breath. “One hit is a loss?” To have to sit out and allow your teammates to carry on after only one hit would be a challenge. People would drop like flies, even in the large arena.

“Game starts in: One minute.”

People immediately began their rush out of the employee room to find beginning points. Hoshiki led the way for you and nodded towards the office areas upstairs. “We can see everything from there.”

Niragi obviously had the brains to agree, not arguing with the much younger boy's decision. Your trio rushed up the metal staircase and to an open office in the middle of the hall, overlooking a good majority of the line of conveyors. In the distance, the enormous stacks of wrapped cases were slightly visible. “Did anyone else come up here?” You asked, leaning below the window and glancing over it to peek. The blue glow from all of your packs lit up the small space as the timer ticked down.

“20 seconds remaining.”

You tensely gripped your gun, taking a deep breath in and listening to the footsteps below.

“I didn't see anyone else.” Niragi said. “But don't assume anything.”

You and Hoshiko nodded together. “Game start. 20 minutes until the game finishes.” The factory lit up with LEDs and strobes, highlighting the floors and walls periodically and making vest colors harder to see.

Immediately, blasts were heard throughout the arena. Shoes squeaking on the metal floor echoed throughout the open area and shouts of panic did, too. Niragi sprang up to join the action, looking both ways down the hall before situating his gun on the railing while kneeling. You and Hoshiko followed behind, each finding a spot on the railguard to shoot from. You flinched as a red-hot laser shot just past your head and into the wall. Whipping your head around, your eyes widened in horror of realizing that the lasers used from the guns were the very same ones that shot down from the sky and killed game losers.

“We only get one hit because it'll kill us.” You told Niragi and Hoshiko, who were both coming to the same realization in different ways. Hoshiko was nearly hyperventilating, hugging his gun to his chest and leaning below the railing to shield himself. Niragi, on the other hand, was cheering and celebrating his own killshot.

He ducked when the dead man's teammate spun around and blasted towards the upper area. Laughing, he seemed high on adrenaline as he faced you. “You didn't put that together already, sweetheart?”

Swallowing, you braced yourself at the sound of thundering footsteps climbing to the office hall. “Go!” You urged, taking Hoshiko's arm and running towards the end of the hall and towards the other stairwell. Lasers lit up the arena with red and blood littered the floors as fluid as water might. You all hid among a line of conveyors, watching a few blues and reds alike taking turns jumping from hiding spots and shooting at the opposite sides.

Niragi was the boldest of you three, taking risks and peaking out to discreetly shoot down any stragglers who tried to move positions. Each little cheer he did made your stomach squeeze uncomfortably, but you forced yourself to understand the situation. It was them or you, after all.

Bringing up your phone, you read the black digits: ‘15:27’. Only five minutes had passed and yet it felt like hours with your blood pumping hot through your veins.

Niragi leaned down, whispering to you and Hoshiko. “See that guy in the black tank?”

You both nodded after a glance up. The buzzcut guy from the break room was dominating the competition—blue side's, luckily—from a clever spot on the second floor of the storage area. He peaked up strategically and shot at the Reds hiding amongst the large stacks of candy. “I'm going to make for the wall between storage and the conveyors.” He said. “With him, we can take most of the Red guys down.”

“You'll be exposed!” Hoshiko said urgently, pleadingly shaking his head.

“You both are covering me.” Niragi said sternly, earning saucer eyes from you.

“I'm not a good shot, Niragi.” You told him. “If you get shot—”

“Don't let me.” He nearly growled out, wasting no time and run-crouching over to the concrete wall. You and Hoshiko held you breath all the while, and you didn't even register the Red-lit woman stalked Niragi with a keen eye as she spotted him skittering across the floor. Stepping from her hiding spot, aiming right for his back.

It was Hoshiko that moved first, lifting his gun to tuck it below his chin and rest on the conveyor to aim for her leg. When the trigger was pulled and the gun's nozzle was left slightly smoking from the intense heat, all you could hear was the woman's pained scream as she dropped her gear and clutched at her leg. Panting on the floor, she rocked herself back and forth before turning her angered gaze to you two. Her Red vest turned off and she was entirely in the shadows. Gasping, you pulled the boy down and hidden away with you again.

“Shit.” Hoshiko cursed. “Can the guns still work if you're out?”

“I don't know…” You trailed anxiously, sweat-laced hands gripping the handle of your gun and sucking a deep breath in. “We can't risk that.”

Hearing the hobbling footsteps approach the belt, you hopped straight up onto your feet and shot forward. The red laser momentarily lit up her face, illuminating the horrified expression on her face as it hit her right in the chest. The ‘thud’ echoed in the immediate area as she went down. You killed a woman. In a game of laser tag, you shot down and murdered your opponent with no hesitation. Hoshiko rose to your level, grabbing your arm with a worried expression. “We need to move spots. They'll hear that fall and know someone is right here.”

Wordlessly, you nodded. Niragi had to do the rest himself. Hopefully, that woman was the only one who'd noticed his movement. You and Hoshiko crouched back below the conveyors, using them as covers to stalk below, avoiding other players who seemed to trip over each other in panic. You both reached a small room to the side, finding it to be some kind of broom closet. “Get—” You started, whipping around when a loud, ‘crash!’ went through the entire factory instead. In the dark, you could see the silhouette of the towers of packages start to tumble down like dominos. You could hear Niragi and another man's voice call out triumphantly towards each other, cheering and whooping coming solely from Niragi but the other man affirming the victory that the falls brought.

Glancing up, you saw the man in the black outfit who'd been at the high position and shooting from a distance waving for Niragi to run back into the working part of the factory. He obeyed, surprisingly, cackling as he ran with his gun in hand back to the former hiding spot that you three had taken.

“Seven players remaining.” The robotic feminine voice chimed. You hummed, wondering which team had more. With the large stacks of boxes falling, you assumed that your team had taken the majority of the Reds down in that room.

Hoshiko shouted next to you, yanking you down from your spot and into the wall. You almost scolded him for the unnecessary manhandling, but quickly paused when you saw him shoot down a limping Red team man who escaped the box flooded area. His gun was pointed right at the two of you, only stopped by Hoshiko's own precise aim to his chest. He was animated in the air for a second before falling completely limp in a pile of blood and flesh.

You held Hoshiko's shoulder, staring at the dead man with a silent gape. There wasn't any time to dwell on it when another Red came darting across the working line room. “Shit-” You cursed, jumping to run behind a wall with the still shell-shocked boy.

You heard the padding of his heavy footsteps approaching with vigor, and clutched your gun tight to your chest to prepare for another one-on-one shootout. You hoped desperately that even if you were shot, you could take him down at the same time to prevent him from harming Hoshiko.

A shot interrupted your prayers, and you gingerly peeked out to see a red-hot hole cooling down to black right between the man's eyes, blood pooling around his head on the reflective floor. Looking up, you saw Niragi with an unimpressed raised brow and gun leaning on his shoulder casually as if he'd not just shot down a man.

“Saved you again.” He snickered, though he didn't sound too hung up over it.

Standing on shaky legs, you shook your head. “I shot down a woman who saw your big head switch spots.” You defended yourself.

Sharp laser shots sounded in the much quieter arena, presumably from the AI rather than any players. They were too rapid and short to come from your guns.

“All Red players eliminated. Game clear.”

Looking at your gun, you shoved it to the floor and wiped your sweaty hands on your pants.

“Really now?” Niragi sounded surprised. Glancing around, he spotted the woman's still body in front of the first conveyor that they hid behind. “That's still two saves versus one. Don't forget it,” he nudged your arm with his own, not bothering to lose the gun. Ignoring him, you glanced down to Hoshiko, who hugged his legs and shivered.

“Hoshiko,” You started gently. “We need to go. Do you have a group?”

He looked up at you with glossy eyes, shaking his head. “I—I came here with my brothers. But the first game killed them both.”

Niragi eyed you, kicking your shoe from behind as if to say ‘don't do it’.

“Niragi and I are on foot right now, but it's safer with three. Come with us.” You offered a hand out to him, smiling when he grabbed it to hoist himself up. Niragi clicked his tongue behind you.

At the break room's emergency exit, you three found the two men from the beginning holding up the 5 of Spades card and inspecting it. Apprehensively, you stilled when spotting them, unknowing of their friendliness beyond playing on the same team for less than half an hour.

“Hey.” The eccentric man with the bun greeted first. Niragi narrowed his eyes, nodding his own silent greeting. The more intimidating of the pair was completely silent and still, crossing his large arms other each other and studying all three of you with hawk eyes.

“Have you been here long?” He continued, obviously unconcerned with the awkward tension in the room.

“About a week.” Niragi rounded up, tossing aside the vest and gun, making sure the gun in his belt was visible to both men. Smart, you thought as the buzzcut glanced at the other man with a raised brow.

“Most people don't even make it that long.” The man laughed. “My name is Takeru—or Hatter, if you please. This is Aguni, my…security.” He clapped Aguni on the shoulder, and you half-expected that Aguni would shank him in the stomach for the close touch. Surprisingly, he stayed perfectly still and nodded at the mention of his name.

“Niragi.” Niragi introduced himself, intrigued at the introductions. To you, it felt like you were about to be given a sales pitch.

You introduced yourself and Hoshiko shortly, staying in front of the boy while he was still shaky and unnerved.

“You must be tired from all the walking. Here and there, no electricity and running water. Water bottles grow scarce in all the scavenged stores.”

“What's your point?” Niragi asked.

“You look like you can handle yourself. At The Beach, we've been recruiting people like you.”

“The Beach?”

“A utopia.” Hatter spread his arms out dramatically like a preacher might, and you questioned just how much truth comes from his mouth. “There's only a few of us now—but we've managed to get electricity and water working again with our resident geniuses. Cars, too, so no more walking aimlessly for the next game. Aguni here is our militant branch head, he joins most of the games to keep our residents safe and returned back to The Beach.”

Sounded too good to be true. Electricity and running water run by only a few people. “Where's this utopia?” You asked apprehensively.

Hatter's eyes locked on you and he smiled brightly, a cheek to cheek grin that made you certain he was missing some screws. “Come with us. Niragi, you were good with that gun, you could be placed right under Aguni.”

Niragi seemed to think over the offer in his head, shifting his weight and glancing between Aguni and Hatter. “They can come?” He asked, nodding towards you and Hoshiko.

“Of course! All are welcome at The Beach.”

“We'll check it out.” Niragi agreed for you all, earning a scorching look from you and you pulled his arm.

“I never agreed to that. We should discuss it, Niragi.” You hissed in his ear.

He yanked his arm back, looking down at you like you were a mere animal. A dog begging for food at his heels. “There's nothing to discuss.” He left the alleyway with Hatter, following him to the car that was promised.

Aguni stayed a moment longer, eyeing you before he followed after.

You and Hoshiko shared a glance. “Do you want to go?” You asked. Without Niragi, you wouldn't be half as safe. A young woman and a teenage boy alone on the desolate streets of abandoned Tokyo with scavengers hiding about would not prove positive for anyone. Niragi knew that and took advantage of it.

“I think we should just give it a chance. If Hatter is lying, we'll leave.” He suggested, looking a hundred times more weary than when they first joined.

“Are you okay?” You stopped him from approaching the car. “We could take a moment, if you need it.” Truthfully, your own stomach was churning with the weight of Laser Tag's deaths—directly and indirect. You thought your first game was horrible, with the thirteen other people dying in their water-filled cages surrounding you, but at least you were not responsible for their deaths like you were now. How many people would you have to kill just to make it to the next game and kill some more?

“I'm okay,” he smiled weakly, leading the way to the car. “A shower would be nice, though.”

You laughed and agreed.

🍒

Hatter was telling the truth. The Beach was a reformed resort with fully functioning utilities and people. There were only a few, leaving the lobbies and pool empty as you passed through them like ghost towns. The bright lights were comforting, though, making up for it. Hatter and Aguni led the way to an upstairs rentable office room that had all the previous decorations removed and replaced with more practical ones. A large white table sat in the middle of the room, with three people sitting at it as if they were waiting for you all.

“Everyone, meet Mira, Ann, and Kuzuryu.” He introduced you three in turn. Murmured greetings were exchanged between everyone. Kuzuryu was wearing a formal suit and square glasses, looking groomed and proper despite the wildness of the new world. Mira was wearing a black blouse and dark red slacks, a mirror of the former and yet looking twice as sweet with a smile and wave towards you. An was in a white blouse and denim shorts, expression hidden behind sunglasses but still managing to look intimidating.

“These are our number two, three, and four.”

“Why are they numbered?” You piped up, glancing at the bracelets on their arms.

“I'm glad you asked, my dear!” Hatter appeared behind you, grabbing your shoulders and laughing joyfully.

“Now that you know The Beach is real, I can explain the purpose of it.”

You and Niragi sat next to each other at the table, you sitting opposite of Mira and him next to Hoshiko as you waited for an explanation. Kuzuryu stood and walked to a wooden wall, opening it like a barn door to reveal a few scattered paintings of cards. Your eyes ran across the wall, scanning for the cards that were painted on. It wasn't many, and you assumed it was still a work in progress as a few were crossed out and others were still half-done.

“The purpose of The Beach and all of its citizens, future and current, is to collect every single one of the cards from the games.”

“For what?” Hoshiko asked quietly, wringing his hands together in his lap. He looked interested.

“To get out of this world.” Hatter said, demeanor suddenly extremely serious. “I have a theory. If every card is collected, then the game is completed and one person at a time can go home per deck of cards.”

“That's why we have rankings.” Kuzuryu spoke up. “Number one goes first. Then two, and three, and so on.”

“I am number one, of course.” Hatter said with a charming bow.

“That would take years!” You exasperated. “Who would wait that long?”

Mira giggled in front of you. “That's why we're recruiting people all over Tokyo to join us. The more people contributing cards, the faster we can all go home.” Basing everything off of a theory was risky.

“I'm not sure I want to stay here.” You told Hatter, following his pacing form around the room.

“No?” He asked. “Not even if you were offered a place on the executive table?”

“Would I be able to keep it if you offer everyone new a spot at it?” You bit, glancing at the entrance door that was blocked by Aguni.

He waved the question off. “Of course. The ranking is decided by how many cards someone has contributed, and their cards’ value. As long as you keep playing the games, you can keep your number.”

“Still. It'll be faster if I do it alone. Good luck, Hatter.” You stood from your chair, yelping when you were yanked back by Niragi.

“We'll stay.” He promised simply.

“Niragi—”

“Great!” Hatter clapped, taking a seat at the head of the table. “Let's get you three some numbers. What are your cards?”

“Three of diamonds and five of spades, obviously.” Niragi answered for you both. “We didn't grab our first card, though.”

Hoshiko reached into his pocket and slid a three of hearts to the table's head. Hatter nodded appreciatively, pocketing it for himself. “That's no matter. We'll find another three of diamonds game eventually.” Mira moved to cross out the three of hearts with a fresh can of paint, her neat handwriting showing no flaws on the white wall.

Ann reached into a bag and handed you three numbers. Six, seven, and eight. “Distribute as you please. You three have an even amount.”

Hoshiko handed you the ‘Seven’ and took the ‘Eight’ for himself as Niragi immediately slapped ‘Six’ on his own wrist. You didn't give a damn what number you were assigned, knowing that tonight while everyone else slept you would simply sneak out. Hoshiko, too, if he accepted your offer.

“Your room numbers correspond with your numbers.” She continued.

“Before Hatter left, we were discussing the rules of The Beach.” Aguni said. You almost forgot he was there with his silence. He sat slumped at the other end, opposite of Hatter.

“Ah, yes.” He said. “We only got to brainstorming but during our drive I think I figured some out.”

Ann nodded for him to continue and she brought out a pen and paper from her bag yet again.

“Number one.” He started, drafting it. “Live as you desire. Drink, party, fuck. Its some of our last days, might as well be free.” Some nods and mutters of agreement filled the room. Seeing no complaints, he leaned back in his seat and continued.

“Number two.” He scanned the room, lingering on you, Mira, and Ann for moments too long. Confused, you glanced at both of them and found no luck in an explanation. “We must all wear bathing suits at all times. This goes hand in hand with ‘no weapons’. Nothing is hidden in swimwear.”

Before you could plead your case, Niragi spoke up. “No weapons?” Like that was the biggest issue. In fact, you actually liked that rule.

Hatter laughed and waved him off, too. “Not you, Niragi. The Militants are permitted guns. To keep order, only a few select people can be exempt.”

“Can't we just do room checks?” You asked.

“If you're against the policy, you could wear normal attire during games. But there is no further argument.”

Well, damn.

“Only one more rule. Short and sweet to keep confusion to a minimum.” He decided.

“Death to all traitors.”

#law of attraction #aib #chishiya alice in borderland #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya x reader #alice in borderland #aib fanfic #chishiya x you #chishiya x fem!reader #fanfiction #writing

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nightlyrequiem · 3 days ago

Text

Be Still My Heart

Chapter 22- Briefing

Masterlist AO3 Next Previous

New Chapter Every Saturday

You're the best in the meth industry but a new product suddenly pops up. You and your boss, Valeria, must figure out who is making it so you can take back the market. All the while tension is building between the two of you.

A/N: I haven't been posting a lot recently but I swear I have more projects!!! A few oneshots, Canary Cage, DIGEST. There will be more.

Tags/Warnings: Illegal Substances, Boss Employee Relationship, Angst, Some Hurt/Comfort, Violence, Manipulation, Suggestive Themes, Smut (But Only in CH19.), Dual POV

Valeria leans over the splintering, lopsided wooden table in the basement. The singular lightbulb off to the side casting a dim, dull light. Making the shadows on everyone's faces seem denser and malicious.

"I have twelve men coming from Las Almas." She speaks. "I'm assuming Doug will have more but twelve will be sufficient enough for us." She turns to Rick and gestures for him to step forward. He steps in between Valeria and Alain, planting down a piece of looseleaf. There's a crude sketch of what the compound looks like from above. A rough estimate.

There's a rectangular line around the other structures. Labeled as 'the fence.' Dots indicating guards where the front entrance is labeled. Within the perimeter is a house and a barn. Though it's clearly not being used as a barn. As said by Rick. No animals except for dogs, heard by the barking but he's not sure if they're big or not. He assumes so, saying they 'barked big.'

Valeria points to each side of the fence except for the entrance.

"I'll have two men on each side, waiting for the signal to cut their way in." She tells them. "There's two cliffs either side of the compound, yes?" She looks at Rick for confirmation. He nods. "I'll have someone on the higher cliff to be our eyes and sniper. He'll take out the two guards at the front." There's many uncontrolled variables and it makes Valeria feel a little discomforted, but she's not going to back down or risk waiting.

Valeria does her best to avoid looking at you. Instead choosing to pretend you aren't there anyway. You're not even a part of her plans. You have no combat training, she's not even sure if you've even ever held a firearm let alone shot one. Something knocks a box over, startling everyone. A large rat runs out from the dark. It's long pink hairless tail trailing out from behind it. Even the least squeamish among the group take a step away from it with disgust, giving it wide berth. It's either sick or stupid, as it runs towards Valeria. Without thinking she lifts her foot and crushes it. Feeling it pop beneath her feet.

Out of the corner of her eye she notices the somber look of disapproval on your face.

"Hey... what the hell man." Mark says weakly. He's not so appalled by her killing of a rat but by the mess it left behind. Gray and pink insides leaking outside. Valeria kicks the rest of the rat away and scrapes away the residue left behind on her shoe.

"This is kill on sight." She continues pointedly. "Don't just kill who you see, seek out people to kill. I don't want any of them remaining but Doug. I'll deal with him myself."

"When are the others getting here?" Alain pipes up, scratching his stubbly chin.

"They'll be here in a couple of days." Valeria tells him. "I'll relay the plan to them again when they arrive. You're going to be our sniper." She decides.

Alain has always had amazing aim. He and Valeria used to serve together in the Special Forces. He was a loyalist who saw Valeria's potential before any others and followed her commands without protest, he was one of the few who helped her in double crossing La Araña. Second to Diego, and formally you, he's one of the few people she could almost consider to be a friend. She looks at Rick.

"I want you to be with me for the main raiding party." She says to him. He's not as stealthy or as smooth with combat, but he's decently sized and at the very least will make for a very decent meat shield. "Our goal is to capture Doug, destroy the compound, and go home."

Valeria sighs tiredly. Feeling the weariness in her very bones.

"We'll go over everything again when the others arrive." She says. turning and walking upstairs. Trailing traces of rat around with her.

"So, I'll get a little something extra for housing all these extra people, right?" Mark asks from behind her, following her up the stairs.

"No." Valeria says flatly. annoyed by him. She finds herself excited by the prospect of leaving this place. She's missing the familiar culture of Las Almas.

Mark tries to argue but very quickly gives up. The smart choice, since arguing won't change her mind, only piss her off. Valeria walks into the kitchen, in need of a drink. She digs through the cupboards, sniffing the dubiously smelling glasses. It takes her awhile to find a clean one but she finally does and finally gets her water.

"Did that make you feel tough?" A voice speaks up from behind her. Valeria turns and looks, brows furrowed with confusion.

"Pardon?"

"Did stomping that rat make you feel tough?" You clarify. "I know you like throwing your weight around. Especially towards things smaller than yourself."

Valeria sets down her glass. Feeling agitated by you.

She leans back against the counter and grips it tightly.

"It's a pest. Spreads disease." Valeria says warningly. Though that's not the reason she killed it. She's not entirely sure why. It was an impulse she had and one she listened to.

"I can think of another thing that spreads disease." You mutter.

"I'm not diseased." She snaps. Are you accusing her of having an STD? Is that what you think of her? The thought upsets her.

"Not what I meant." You shake your head. Shoulders dropping as you lose that combative attitude. "What am I supposed to do? In the plan, you never mentioned me."

The first droplets of rain begin to hit the window. Gentle for only a few seconds before turning into a violent flurry.

"You're going to stay here. I don't need you." Valeria says.

"You don't need me." You repeat. Sounding surprised and offended. "You dragged me out here just to cast me aside?"

Valeria scoffs. "You're the one who fought me on coming out here."

You look like you're going to say something but think better of it.

Valeria has a point. She didn't originally plan on bringing you, but you wanted to come, and she wanted you with her. And it was good, for a bit. But even before you found out about the lie, you were never included in her plans. Simply because you'd be a liability, and because she wanted to keep you safe.

"I'm not useless." You say quietly.

"I didn't say you are." She replies. Rubbing a hand over her face. That nicotine craving is starting to flare up. She needs a smoke. Needs to get away from you.

"You've said it before." You press, stepping forward. "And I know you still think I'm not as important or impressive because I don't fight, or because I've never killed anyone. But I'm not some meek little wallflower, I'm not a child. I can take care of myself, and I can follow orders." You tell her sternly.

Your words make her uncomfortable. She wants to deny that she thought that way about you... but it's partially true. You mean something to her, but a part of her can't help but look down on you. To her, you're not someone capable of defending herself.

"You want to help?" Valeria relents. "Fine. I'll get Alain to teach you as much as he can about guns and I'll set you up on the other cliff. You'll be additional support." Valeria doesn't like giving into people who argue with her. And she especially doesn't want to jeopardize you or the mission.

But little harm could come to you or the mission if you're posted up out of the way. You seem appeased at the moment. Content now that you're included.

"Thank you." You say civilly. Valeria relaxes. Perhaps you're starting to forgive her.

"Hey." She calls out as you turn to leave. You stop and look at her. "When we get back to Las Almas I'll take you out for dinner. As an apology." The words feel awkward and out of place in her mouth. She wishes she just kept quiet. You don't respond right away.

"I'm still upset with you." You say. Then walk off without another word. Leaving Valeria in the company of the rain and your rejection.

#modern warefare ii #valeria garza cod #cod mwii #cod x reader #valeria garza x fem!reader #valeria garza x you #cod mw2 #valeria garza #cod #valeria garza x reader

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rimatsu · 18 hours ago

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i'm here to share my crackpot theory about the bts clips. the theme of s8e10 is mending back bridges. as they're saying goodbye after being given the cookies eddie pointedly tells buck he's done waiting for chris to forgive him from 800 miles away, that he now chooses to actively fight to repair what was broken -> it inspires buck to do the same with tommy.

episodes 9-10 were filmed and wrapped up before the hiatus so maybe, just mayyyybe, all the backlash and commenting and emailing about the breakup bore its fruit and they decided to reshoot the scene and add buck giving eddie cookies so the audience knows he's still baking and hung up on tommy. yk shoehorn in a makeup arc they didn't initially plan to explore yet (or at all).

solid thematic link (and a nice callback to 705 with eddie encouraging buck to reach out again)

but if a reconciliation is in the work, i'd say it'll only happen in the last third of the season. they need to give the breakup room to breathe, eventually build enough longing that the audience buys the most transformative relationship of my life claim (in a way that further distinguishes tommy from past LIs beyond gender) and i guess also depict buck "figuring himself out" on screen, since that's apparently impossible to do while being in a longterm relationship for some obscure reason (😒)

i do think the cookies were added with intention (wordless indicator that buck is still baking and therefore pining), but i'd be surprised if eddie's reaction to receiving them is what acts as the catalyst for a reunion. pleasantly surprised tho! the sooner bucktommy reconcile, the more time can be spent on exploring, developing and strengthening their relationship on screen in a way s7/8a failed to do

#once again: advienne que pourra!#specs.... keep sending 'em my way. keep hope alive in me #bucktommy #rima.txt

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yanaleese · 2 days ago

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Hiii!! Js finished reading Eunsung's intro and I'm so interested in more about him,, what type of lover and yandere would he be?? Like his mannerisms/actions as a yandere and as a lover

ALSO BIG LOVE FOR KARMA + UR ART STYLE IS SO FIRE!!!

Hey Anon! Good to know you're interested in Eunsung, our baby 😫🥰💕

Bwahaha another Karma stan!!! Join the club Anon, and explore the depths of this weirdtastic blog. And ty!!! I've been feeling a little insecure about my art lately, so seeing this comment encourages me to keep drawing 😭😭😭😭

now AHEM back to ur question ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

In terms of Eunsung's Yandere type and mannerisms, it was slightly explained here, along with a bit of plot. But as a lover Eunsung would do the following:

Unfortunately, you and Eunsung would have a relationship hidden from the public eye. Eunsung is part of a cult, and to be with you is kind of unacceptable (until he figures out how to convince U-Jin, Dak-Ho, and the cult leader lol). Note that any gestures beyond friendly chatter results in your death. So any mannerisms from here on out would be based on such circumstances…

Eunsung would always greet you with a gentle kiss. He preferably likes to kiss your wrist, your cheek, and even your forehead (if he can ever reach it LMAO). It's his way of saying how much he loves your presence and to see how comfortable/tense you are at the moment.

Eunsung will always try to be accommodating. Meaning, he will always choose the venue that's best for you to meet at. He doesn't want to worry your heart with the details, the panic, the stress - after all, he knows that from his own experience as an idol.

Eunsung will always make you happy. No matter how baggy his eyes are, no matter how stressful his day is, he will never put his problems on you. Instead, he will do his best to treat you like royalty, a deity. He's never been able to call someone his own, so having you in his life makes him incredibly happy.

Eunsung LOVES to give you handmade gifts. Gifts that aren't bought or sold, but come from his heart. As your relationship progress, you'll notice a shift from "high-quality" gifts to heart-warming gifts. He'll pick up a lot of hobbies to create unique gifts for you, causing him to value his boundaries and his time. This would give a lot of people, including U-Jin and Dak-Ho - raised eyebrows.

Eunsung would bring board games for you to play with. He can't necessarily bring any devices since (1) his phone is always monitored, (2) your phone can act as a tracking device. So every meeting you have will be without technology (he hates that shit anyways).

Eunsung is needy. He'll beg you to kiss him, spoil him, soil him, hypnotize him, c̵̰͗̅ö̴͔̙ȓ̶͎̽r̴̢̰͆̅u̵̪͝p̵̖͛̈́t̵̢̪̆̑ ̷̛͙h̵͉̑̚i̴��̫̹m̸̹̠̾ and so much more! He is a submissive femboy siren and he embarrassingly accepts it. (he also LOVES headpats, andlovescummingfromyourunderwear)

Eunsung would try and match with you, even if he's on stage. In your secret meetings, he'll try and arrange a dress code or something that only the two of you would know. So that way, when you are watching him, he can reciprocate smiles and pepper kisses in return.

Eunsung would have a diary about you. He'll share it with you every time you meet up, and he would read to you. And every single time he would tremble, stutter, and be a little nervous. But if it's you, Eunsung will gladly overcome his fears.

As a Yandere, he has a lot of variety. But right now I'm leaning towards him becoming a switch (both dominant, and submissive):

Eunsung would be a lot more manipulative, and tune in to his darker side. Eunsung is never the type to deceive someone, but he will do so if you're on the line. Eunsung may not be knowledgeable, but he has high levels of emotional intelligence. It's just that he "dumbs it down" or "turns off his brain" since he has little to no confidence in himself. Hence why the cult leader, Ha-Neul, is so strict when it comes to Eunsung critically thinking for himself. He makes sure Eunsung has no time to process anything, which explains why the sirenic idol is constantly booked.

Eunsung will tune into his powers. Even though I do forget sometimes, Eunsung is an acquatic god that can control the seas with his voice (if he wants to). But he would have to re-train in secret, since Ha-Neul wants to keep Eunsung weak and dependent on the cult.

Eunsung will become jealous. He's never had anything for himself, so why on earth should he give you up? So, if anybody looks at you in a way that displeases him...he'll whimper, tug your shirt, and start crying. Meanwhile, he'll call up his cult and/or his fanbase to ridicule the person, haunt them, murder them or put their corpse on display.

Eunsung would become a major gaslighter. Conditioned to care for everyone, Eunsung ultimately cares about no one (except you) - as he has little to no time with the people he meets. So instead of being polite, and sugarcoating things...Eunsung would just politely gaslight you, and slowly let your body burn in a fire verbally. By the time you realize, you'll be so stunned, perplexed, and worried. Ironically, Eunsung learns to gaslight fast since he's been born in a cult full of manipulators, gaslighters, and abusers alike. He'll probably be proficient at mental and physical torture as well!

Eunsung's self-esteem will be entirely dependent on you. YOU were the one that brought him meaning, brought him back to life. Your validation, your opinions of him are so important that any negative statement will shatter him completely, and begin a mental breakdown. He won't be able to sing, work, or just live. He can't let you go, and won't let you go. He'll do anything to appease you, even if means killing himself.

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crimson-and-clover-1717 · 2 days ago

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our flag means death#OP I'm sending you a flower bouquet#i actually love re-watching the pilot because everything Stede said is 100% right and as Ed later observes he has piracy figured out AND#dares to do something original - a lot of what Stede says seems naive or said out of jealousy (regarding the board party) but his true#motivation is always kindness - and the narrative never punishes him for being kind and hopeful his method totally works and improves the#lives of everyone on his crew and others who are choosing to embrace it. we need more shows that have kindness in their core especially now#knives has opinions

All of this. And watching the pilot after understanding the rest of the show is so rewarding. Because you know Stede’s philosophy is going to work. Even when he’s sobbing on the bow of the ship, he manages that little nod and ‘My family’s here now, at sea,’ and then goes and reads the people he knew were planning to kill him a story. That bloody story saved him. ‘Shall we kill Captain?’ /‘Not until, we know the end of the fairytale he’s reading us at bedtime.’ I’ve been ill most of the weekend, and watched the pilot yesterday as a distraction, and just cried my eyes out afterwards. Because Stede Bonnet.

I agree with this. I never think Stede is acting on knowledge though. It’s intuition. He knows what he likes and presumes others might too - but he is very good at knowing which characters would benefit from his ideas, and those that would never be receptive to it. His childhood taught him that.

And it’s totally about Stede too, which is why I hope he gives himself the same grace eventually. Because he has trauma and is an absolute sweetheart. Yet at this point in the story, he thinks he’s an idiot and a monster. This is what Stede does though. Counsels others before himself. I do think he finds healing in helping others get what he never had. So he saves himself by saving others, but he needs to not lose sight of himself in the process.

But that’s the wonder of Stede Bonnet, isn’t it? And why he intuitively, instinctively, and immediately understands Ed also.

Stede sees straight through the Blackbeard facade right to the sweetheart that is Ed.

One day, Stede will give himself the same grace.

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midnight-mismanagement · 2 years ago

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I’ve been thinking about That Church SceneTM and idk I think what hit me hardest was how Spike is talking about his former pre-soul mindset and how naive it is. He says “and she shall look on him with forgiveness and love and everyone will forgive and love and he will be loved” because while pre-soul he knew he was a monster and he knew he had done horrible things, he was okay with those things, he was a vampire after all, but he felt horrible for what he did to Buffy, but even then he still had a bit of hope. From the outside looking in, Angel’s soul seemed like the “button” for the “be good” switch. It would be the “piece that would make [him] fit” so he would be the “kind of man who would never [hurt her].” The “be a man not a monster” switch, that would make him be able to tell right from wrong and never hurt the people he loves anymore. But...the soul is not a “be good” switch. I don’t really know what the soul exactly is, since it’s never really concrete in the lore, but it doesn’t just make him fit, it doesn’t turn him into what he wants, but what it does do, is make him much more aware of himself and what he’s done, and he comes to the realization that no, there is no forgiveness. There never will be, he will never be worthy of it. He is condemned. He says “it’s okay now, right?” with hopeful despondency because he knows it will never be okay. Spike has always wanted acceptance, and love, and he sought it from places he would never get it, and now he knows he will never get it because he shouldn’t.

So when he goes up in flames by the end in heroic sacrifice and all that jazz, he’s happy he even got to have an ending like this, he’s finally doing something right. And when he comes back in Angel, as a ghost with no ability to affect the world around him (except annoy the crap out of Angel) he feels he is on borrowed time. In the moment of burning up, he didn’t have to think about if he would end up in hell or the aftermath, but with Pavayne toying with him, tugging him in to hell, it’s a slow torture of what he’s known all along, even if he didn’t fully want to face it. He is still condemned. And yet, given what he believes to be the one opportunity to stave off the inevitable for however longer and get a body, he still chooses Fred’s life over his own. And Fred tells him “you’re someone worth saving.” She doesn’t condemn him. She believes in him, like Buffy did, and this time it’s someone he doesn’t have a rocky past with or romantic feelings with, she just sees him for him and wants to help. And in the end he gets a body while she loses hers, and it’s because Angel and Spike did the “right” thing because it’s what Fred would’ve wanted. I think soulless him would’ve saved Fred, even if it meant condemning so many others.

And on the day he thinks will once again be his last before the big suicide mission showdown (which he was the first to volunteer for), he doesn’t call Buffy to give her the pain of finding he’s alive only to die again, instead he goes to a bar and reads his poetry, the window into his shameful, soft soul that was stamped on and laughed at the last time he was a human, and hopes for acceptance. And he gets it.

#I just have a lot of Spike feelings all of a sudden #this is how I procrastinate is by falling down eighth grade rabbit hole obsessions #but yeah just very much the whole #will this fix me oh shit nothing can #and it was me who did that #is very much oof #the soul doesn't make him a good person #it just holds up a mirror he hasn't seen himself in since he was a human #and it's on him to figure out what to choose from here #to keep going or sink into his inevitable condemnation #and accept there is no salvation only living #or unliving #btvs #spike #spike btvs #buffy the vampire slayer

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longroadstonowhere · 5 months ago

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back on my yuuga aoyama bullshit

#did not expect him to be the character that i constantly rotate in my head from boku no hero #and yet here we are #selfish traitor who wanted to be a hero so bad he went to a villain about it #never quite good enough to stop helping a villain but never quite evil enough to leave his classmates in the lurch #he knows full well he could die at any moment and he chooses the heroic action anyway #what a guy! what a fascinating side character for a shonen manga to have!#i'm Obsessed #(now to figure out some way to get him in the same room as himiko toga without murder happening and i'll be happy ahahaha)

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froggomcdoo · 8 months ago

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you ever read a work of fiction so good that you immediately need to find more and consume it but it doesn't have any more and there will likely be no more so you just suffer and think what if.

#theres no fanfic of it. its not a fandom #it was one 150000 word original fiction fic on ao3 #i read it all in one sitting and i can't stop thinking about it #its not that i found the leads attractive or fuckable and thats why i kept reading #(the leads weren't like WHOA HEY levels of attraction but more like a id tap level)#((they were def fuckable tho thats not what made them interesting))#the way they interacted. with eachother. with their family. with the world around them #htere was so much lore. what about hte demon world tell me more about the classifications of demons and how it affects their lifestyle #tell me more about how a demon who had before this when needing to see would just create more eyes and needing to eat would just #create more mouths interacts with a body that cannot have more than what it was given. tell me more.#why was jade so effective? who was two really? who hired those assassins? are shades normally powerful or is he an exception?#did she ever learn to ride? did he figure out how to balance? do their children inherit his constitution? do they inherit hers? what happen #when she starts to age? does he try to do anything to stop it? does his body rotting around him limit his time or is it something else?#does the doctor get the herbs from hell? does the butler ever find out he didn't know she knew until the last min?#the sex is good. obviously. but what was cuddling like? is carrying a 1/3 demon baby full term different from a standard human baby?#did he choose velvet for his wedding suit because it felt like his regular skin or because of something else? tell me. tell me. tell me.#if i were to get isekaied i hope to fuck it wouldnt be here bc my ass would be dead but also im feeling so intensly curious #if truck kun came knocking i would ahve a notebook in hand full of questions to be answered #the romance was good ig but the world was better #is this what sqq felt lmao #rants and rambles

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aridhingra · 3 days ago

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"All varieties of teasing are always on the table." A smirk tugging at his lips before laughing, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, tasting the saltiness of the water that still clung to his skin now. "Now who told you that you had an innocent appearance? Because they were lying, and you should get your money back." If there was one thing Ari could do, he could play the games too, she wanted to tease him, he could easily tease the blonde headed woman, at least she was being gracious enough to have talked to him so he wasn't standing on the beach completely alone, which had been the original plan. "Challenging and difficult, those are the two that you choose to start off with in telling someone about yourself? Brave, brave woman." Clicking his tongue, not sure if he was more impressed, amused, or fascinated by their conversation. "Believe you're supposed to save that information till you meet a person at least -- I don't know say the third time." Holding three of his fingers up as if driving the point really home. Though the blonde could do what she wanted, he just couldn't resist when she had offered up that information. "Mean there's the cliffs here, aren't there? Maybe it's not allowed to cliff jump from them, rocks below -- immediately crushes that rush, er -- figuratively and literally." Or maybe it was more turned into shredded human but there was no point in attempting to give more details to this story.

For Ari he was someone who was always up for an adventure, maybe you wouldn't actually find him cliff jumping but send him on a more difficult hike? Sign the man up. It was something he planned to do more of once the weather settled a bit more in Merrock and he could get outside, feel the crunch of his heavy boots back against the ground, it'd be that feeling of home for him. "That's all I could ever aim to be, a true gentleman, have to live up to someone's dreams." Ari quipped, tugging the towel tighter around his skin. "So you have one ghost lady, and you're willing to promote me. All I'm hearing is I'm winning at ghost life, and in the afterlife I'd at least have a friend, or maybe a ghost girlfriend, mean she's alone, I'm alone, haunting your for the rest of evermore might as well also make a partner out of it." It seemed like the only logical idea.

Giving a set nod, "You're not wrong, not something I want to think about anytime soon, actually happening. As much as haunting you until your last days probably would be far more amusing for me, than you. A person can only handle so many things going missing or ending up in random places before you know." Tapping the side of her temple indicating going a little crazy, but weren't they all in this world? "Definitely have a lot I want to teach him in this world so kind of have to stick around. Want him to learn to enjoy the outdoors, how to be kind and gentle with nature and animals." It was something he knew wouldn't happen for awhile, at least in the bigger sense there'd be years before he was taking him on adventures, but even in small ways he could make a change for the little boy. "Daddy Phantom sounds -- like you've been on booktok. Don't ask how I know about booktok either, you couldn't torture it out of me."

"I said that I'm freezing as fuck! Not that I fuck freezing -- wait, that -- no, definitely did not say that and I'm going to need you to make sure that you don't put out the image to anyone that I'm hanging around meat freezers. Are you trying to give the town of Merrock the idea I'm a serial killer? Not the vibe I'm trying to give, Sunny." As the blonde followed he rolled his eyes, "Apparently I'm far more exciting than you're giving me credit for, but I will take the liquor if you're offering now." Since this had all started over her playfully attempting to show off her spiked hot chocolate. Once inside it didn't take him long to dry off and change, emerging with his own hot drink, now far more suitable in a pair of jeans, his boots, and a simple button up. "Alright, I did make a pit stop for one of these, figure warm up and you show me the direction to this place you intend to take me to liquor me up and tap into all my secrets. Let's see how much game you have."

“Oh, I wasn’t aware any other variety of teasing was on the table,” Sunny couldn’t help but say, raising an eyebrow. She could appreciate the fact that Ari was multi-faceted. She didn’t know him well but he usually seemed mature, intelligent and it was nice to see a lighter side of him. She supposed that there had to be another side though given his history with Lucie. She didn’t know much about that either aside from Archer existing. To say the least, she was amused by all of this, more so than she was annoyed with the biting cold wind or the fact her hair kept blowing in her face. “I don’t think I ever said that I was an angel. I, despite this innocent appearance, can be many things and – challenging and difficult are just two of them.” She nodded though. “And yes, cliff diving is very much a thing. I mean, it’s probably more like large hills around here but there are cliffs in the world. The trick is honestly to just survive trying that thing once. Dying tends to take the fun out of everything.”

When it came to dumb decisions, Sunny was definitely the sort of person who would show up to support her friends through it. If there was an actual chance of death, she’d probably try and talk them out of it. She firmly believed in personal autonomy. Everyone had their own thoughts, feelings and preferences and if they only did the things she wanted them to do they weren’t going to be true to themselves. If they succeeded, great. If they failed, she was there. It all worked out in the end. At the moment, she was perfectly find to watch the chaos of the plunge and keep herself out of it. Truth be told, she couldn’t actually see ghosts or speak to spirits but she definitely believed they were out there. “You’re a true gentleman,” she said with a laugh. “Mostly just one but she’d be happy to have a new friend. Is it weird to pre-fix your living friends up with your house ghost lady? –I mean, I have a long friendship with her and we’ve only met a little while back but I’m open to promoting you. Especially, ghost you.”

It was probably not a good idea that he not die though. He did have dad stuff to do. “I’m sure it’ll end up okay though. I mean, he’s got fun parents. He’ll probably have plenty of fun words to say when he starts going,” she offered. At the end of the day everything was going to be just fine. “Maybe Daddy Phantom will be in the mix.”

It definitely was not easy to listen and not judge. She supposed she’d never be any of the trends because she definitely knew she was not demure. “Someone has to be that person, it might as well be me,” she said said with a shrug. “Ah. But I do have to question where you’re fucking that you’re freezing because I can’t say I’ve ever done that. Are you secretly a man around the meat locker?” She could definitely join him for warming up and drinking though. She followed his gesture starting to move with him, anywhere warm would do honestly. “I suppose, we could do that. I mean, I’ll drag you in and liquor you up so you can fill me in on all these stories of your exciting life. Clearly you’ve got secrets.”

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secondpersonpoetry · 2 months ago

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hi! heard the released “Merry Christmas, Please Don’t Call” (which i’ve seen you’ve heard live, if i’m not mistaken!!) this morning and i don’t know if there’s really a particular vibe/dynamic/ship hrpf-wise (personally haven’t yet been able to put my finger on it) that quite relates but the lyrics have been rotating in my head all day and i was wondering if you had any thoughts? hope you have a good one! <3

OH ANON HAVE I EVER SEEN IT LIVE!!! and the second that song came out i zoomed it straight into my fic playlist and unfortunately there are so many guys this could be. right now the one that's resonating is, of course, the golden boy and his haunted ghost themselves: mcstrome.

i am thinking about connor, specifically, after the stanley cup final. that game seven. how angry he was, how loud the silence when they told him he won the conn smythe. how close he's come before and again and again lost. there's nobody else to blame but himself. he's in the empty room and he knows why (1)

at!! your best!!! you were magic!!! oh, golden boy. connor the anointed, of course. at the very beginning of his career we always knew he was something special and who wouldn't have fallen in love with him? weren't all of us a little bit dylan strome in awe of the generational talent? we were all bathed in radiant light just by being in the vicinity (2)

don't even tell 'em that you know me breaks my heart (3). in terms of building a narrative i think i've said before there is a universe where connor/dylan were together before the draft and to protect both of them, dylan breaks up with him. connor says i love you and dylan says i don't. because he doesn't, you know? he loved connor. he loved davo. he can't be in love with connor mcdavid, first overall pick of the edmonton oilers. i'd rather be hurt forever than have to watch us try to make this work and destroy us.

and after connor mcdavid left the otters, dylan strome captained them to a memorial cup win. what a haunted home, eh? to be captain of the team you and your best friend were on, only now he's left you? don't call me to tell me about your rookie season with the oilers--we both know about your broken collarbone. don't call me to tell about becoming the youngest captain in franchise history when i stepped into the shoes of your captaincy here. don't call me. (4)

narratively: dylan's the one who broke connor's heart and his own but by god it wasn't easy. we both know what happened, you went first overall. please don't make this harder on me. please don't call.

this verse can be about the weight of dylan having to live up to connor's standards and always being measured by him. i would just like to bring up the connor stepping stone chart for absolutely no reason as well (5)

we are, at long last, at the potential future of now: dylan strome, happy, smiling, thriving on the washington capitals. connor, on the oilers. i'm not yours, dylan can say. haven't been for a long time. it took some time but i made this. please don't call and ruin this for me, stay out of my life. i don't want you or need you (6)

[p.s. this took a while because when i received this ask i was a) immediately possessed to write this verse by verse breakdown i had never thought of before and then b) immediately plagued by the idea of making you a little graphic (above the read more) and finally got to do it after banging out all the actual lyric thoughts two (?) weeks ago. emerging two and a half hours later from the fugue state of GIMP with 37 layers in this bad boy hope you enjoy!!!]

#not me being like did i tell y'all about seeing bleachers? and then just proceeded to take it at face value like yeah i probably did #do i remember when or in what context absolutely not. maybe re: popstar jack? also very possible i was just. yapping.#anyway we're gonna put tag footnotes for other potential pairings &dynamics because otherwise this post looks frankly. unhinged. which it i #(1) because i am nothing if not a parody of myself i would like to provide an honorable mention to the death of the goon in this lyric.#when does time stop? when is it just you & your anger? who's the person you've divorced yourself from because you couldn't catch their fist #in case it was not clear this is also incredibly a trade narrative. did we pick that up? this is lovers to enemies. this is we were not goo #for each other and i don't regret that. parise suter fans rise up. the speaker in this case is the minnesota wild org.#(2) there is a note of nostalgia and longing here--when you were magic. i remember when you were a giant to me. i remember the hope #and possibilities. rip to sidney crosby the next one and golden boy of this generation but this is sung like a rookie to the vet they once #idolized. i was sold and maybe i shouldn't have bought it. maybe you tarnished over time. or in a softer light it is a comfort not a #criticism i bought tickets to the show. at your best you really were something and you made me believe i could be magic too. SORRY. dylan.#sorry. he'll come up again later. but every team has a golden boy don't they? do we know the cathal kelly bedard article where he talks abt #eating your prospects alive by building a narrative they can never live up to & promising them every year so that when they can it's a shoc #(3) three line devastation here my god. don't pretend you were kind golden boy! don't you dare tell anyone what you told me because then #they'd know too. the “coming out” narrative of it is discussed but while i don't love this it's the easiest example i have: jamie & trevor #have we heard jamie talk about trevor in a single interview? sometimes after a guy you loved gets traded you don't want the reminder.#it's even worse if he chooses to leave. claude giroux hater-era au arc where we don't talk about him. jt leaving the islanders dead to them #(4) while not a trade the other draft narrative we grew up together to enemies is of course zach and dylan. zach roaming around ann arbor #please also apply to subsequent usntdp team 100/101/102 narratives. alex turcotte i'm sorry they never speak your name you will hurt foreve #(5) to counter the rookie to the vet narrative of the golden boy this is fairly explicitly To Me a vet about his rookie who's supposed to b #the promised one the one who'll save them all. dallas is coming to mind here but not for any real reason. nail yakupov are you there.#taylor hall curse of the 1OA. pretty common also for guys to take in a kid when you're barely 26 yourself & haven't got ur shit figured out #so. dealing with a neurotic driven kid? yeah this is somebody who had a golden boy &fell out of favor. got traded. ty smith j'accuse style #(6) or in another story please don't call because i'll come right back #goodnight chicago the playoff handshake line. please don't call me. please don't call me.#HELLO BESTIE!!!! i think this is a wonderful song for Fic Purposes and could be applied well to SO many different narratives. i picked a #specific example but do feel the dynamic is very much what the song says: toxic ex and/or family/friend you don't need in your life. trades #seguin leaving boston etc etc. there IS an answer eluding me besides mcstrome though. not toxic enough. tk pat trade? OH TK PAT. or older #trade deadline tragedy

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 2 months ago

Text

three times

a/n: some time ago i asked you guys on a poll what dude you wanted in this story and you all chose bucky, so here it is! also, i partly blame you all for how unhinged it turned out... like you get maybe 6,69% of the blame for the push you gave me... the rest is just me being a hoe

summary: a tale of the three times a nurse was kidnapped by new york’s most notorious gang.

warnings: dark!mob boss!bucky barnes x nurse!reader x doctor!peter parker, smut, dark content, noncon/dubcon, mob au, mobsters!steve rogers, clint barton, tony stark, scott lang, bruce banner, the gang is called the avengers, doctor!kate bishop, enemies to lovers, kidnapping, violence, weapons, blood, being drugged, alcohol consumption, possessiveness, kissing, clothed x completely naked, panty sniffing, dirty talk, manhandling, size kink, gaping, belly bulge, oral, fingering, fisting, pussyjob, in bucky's mind it's brat taming, dumbification, impact play, squirting, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, somno, bondage, mild knife play, mild gunplay, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cumplay

word count: 11.574

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You flinched jaggedly as the dark cloth bag was finally ripped off your head. Eyes immediately squinting, they still strained to take in the unfamiliar space you’d been dragged to.

You were no longer in the hospital’s dark parking lot, nor were you in the black van you’d suddenly been tossed into, but instead, you found yourself in a dark living room. It was elegantly decorated, from the Persian rug to the dramatic, antique fireplace flicking behind the cluster of suit-clad criminals glaring down at you.

“This her?” one of them grumbled.

“Yep, one doctor as per your request,” the one who’d abducted you grinned, proudly planting a palm on his hip, “even choose a pretty one just for shits and giggles,” his starkly different mannerisms only made the others seem that much more intimidating.

The broad-figured one with a shock of sandy hair then stepped closer to where you stood, “alright, here’s the thing, doc,” his head tilted slightly to get on your level as he spoke to you directly, “you’re gonna do exactly as we say and then everything will be alright, okay?” he stared in your eyes as you offered him a shaky nod, “okay,” he exhaled, “you got a name?”

“Y/n Y/l/n…” you uttered before hearing yourself try to correct, “but I–…”

“But what?” the same man croaked.

“I-I’m not a doctor…”

“God damn it!” someone rumbled as everyone’s eyes flicked to the man who’d captured you, “we can’t fucking trust the new guy to do anything.”

“Well, she’s wearing scrubs,” he tried, frantically gesturing to your uniform, “I just thought–”

“You fucked up, Lang!” the first man who you’d heard speak barked loudly, “and now we’re not just gonna lose one of our brothers tonight, but also the head of the snake. Great fucking job,” a sharp click then caused your eyes to find the gun he yanked out, “and now she gotta die as well–”

“Wait!” you shrieked as both of your palms shot up in the air, “no! Please don’t kill me! I-I’m a nurse! I’m a nurse! I can help! Whoever’s hurt, I can help!”

Seemingly superior to the others present, the blonde one stared at you intensely for a while before exhaling a verdict, “shit… well, I guess it’s better than nothing…” his polished shoes then began to shuffle before he gestured to you, “come this way.”

Hesitantly, you slowly shadowed him out of the living room, down a dim hallway, and into the chamber that bloomed at the bottom of the corridor. In the centre of the dark room, bathed by two glowing pendants, stood a large pool table, and upon the green felt, with colourful orbs haphazardly scatted all about, there laid a man, unconscious and bleeding.

The brunette’s suit was sodden with crimson, though you couldn’t tell from here how much of it was his own.

The gangster who was standing by the side and watching over the wounded individual glanced up at your arrival and asked his fellow men, “this the doctor?”

“No, it’s a fucking stripper,” you twisted your neck at the sarcastic tone as the guy who’d only moments ago pulled a gun on you waltzed past you and entered the room as well, “yes, of course it is, Tony. How’s the boss?”

“Still alive,” he answered in a sigh and cast his glance back down upon the man on the pool table.

Slowly stepping up, you carefully let your stare wash over the mobster, from the frazzled and blood-soaked attire to the metal-looking hand poking out one of the sleeves.

“What happened?” you asked carefully.

“Miss,” someone grumbled as they set a bag of supplies down beside you on the games table, “just fix him.”

“If you wanna give your friend a better chance, then you give me as much information as possible about what happened to him,” you uttered as you found a pair of gloves and slipped them on.

Letting out a sigh, the blonde fellow then said, “it was a shootout.”

Snatching up a pair of scissors, you began to snip in the man’s clothes, staring at the sleeve closest to you, “how many times was he shot?”

“I don’t know, he–… a lot of rounds went off,” he grunted, the events of the night weighting his broad shoulders down, “I wasn’t exactly counting.”

Two bullets. That’s how many you found when his dress shirt was in tatters on the floor. One was lodged in his right arm four finger widths above his elbow, while the other had strayed a bit further north and buried itself in his bulky bicep. You also found other scrapes and scratches along his torso, assumingly from other bullets that hadn’t been as lucky as those two.

The smallest of relieved sighs flowed from your lungs as you discovered that he wasn’t in a critical enough condition to be in need of a surgeon, at least not from what you could tell with the limited resources currently at your disposal.

As you carefully set to work, first digging the bullets out before cleaning the wounds with saline, your lips slowly parted as you treaded a curved needle, “…so, not that I don’t love the change to my evening plans,” you didn’t dare shift your glance as you asked, “but don’t you have a regular guy for cleaning up these sorts of messes?”

“We did… he died tonight, trying to stop that from happening,” the blonde man gestured to the injuries you began to stitch up.

Blinking up to find his eye, you uttered sincerely, “I’m so sorry for your loss…” feeling yourself, even under such circumstances, uncontrollably slip into those compassionate parts of your profession.

A slight scoff bubbled out of the gangster, taken aback by your unexpected gentleness, “yeah, me too. Banner was one hell of a guy…”

Once each of the wounds were sutured closed and you’d bandaged him up, you pushed yourself back from the pool table.

“Alright,” you exhaled and glanced up at the criminals lurking in the shadows of the chamber, “I’m done.”

“Yeah?” one of them stepped up to get a better look, “he’s alright?”

“No, he’s not alright, he was shot multiple times and should be in a fucking hospital,” your eyes briefly fluttered shut as you heard yourself snap, “now, can I please go home?”

Catching the eye of the blonde one, second in command, you watched as his jaw briefly clenched, the muscles dancing beneath his skin before he breathed, “no, you’re not done.”

“But I did exactly as you asked–”

“Like you said, he should be in a hospital right now, but we can’t have that happen, so instead, you’re gonna stay here till he’s out of the woods.”

“What? I can’t–”

“You’re a nurse, right?” he croaked to shut you up, “so fucking do your job and nurse him back to health.”

Three whole days ended up passing by before Mr Barnes slowly began to regain consciousness.

“Oh, you’re awake!” you snapped back into work mode, springing from your seat and leaning in over the bed which he’d previously been moved into. As the mobster instinctively began to sit up, his eyes barely open yet, you laid a soft palm upon his metal arm and uttered, “sir, please don’t move,” and watched as his clenched jaw almost silenced a groan, “one second, I’ll give you something for the pain,” before you shifted a moment to scavenge through the supplies you’d been given. Once the medicine was found, you exhaled slowly as you injected it, gently pressing down the plunger of the syringe, “there you go…”

You let yourself suck in a deep breath before your sharp eyes washed over him, briefly assessing him as he woke, though as your gaze flickered up to meet his own, initially with the intent of checking his pupillary response, the manner he stared back at you caught you so of guard that a shiver trickled down your spine.

“Sir, do you know what your name is?” you asked in a clear tone.

“Mhm…” he hummed and continued to stare at you as if you were an angel, “Bucky…”

“Bucky, great, that’s good,” you nodded, “and do you know where you are?”

His gaze didn’t shift away from your visage as he then murmured, “heaven…”

“No, I assure you, you’re not dead,” grasping the stethoscope draped around your neck, you shifted it into place to take a quick listen to his heart, “you almost were, a few times, but you aren’t.”

As the steady thumping of his pulse filled your ears and seeped into your soul, his deep voice washed over you once again and layered atop the beat, “I’m guessing you had something to do with that?”

Catching his unwavering eye a moment, you then averted yours and muttered, “I was just doing my job…” before retracting the stethoscope from his chest and casting your glance towards the door, “I should probably go tell the others that you’re awake.”

TWO WEEKS LATER

“…and Mr Jensen in 401 is complaining of a headache, so you might wanna check that out as well.”

“Alright, cool,” the doctor scribbled down the last of your words on the little notepad in his palm before his gaze flickered up to catch yours, “thank you so much, Y/n,” he flashed you a warm smile.

Mirroring his expression, you hugged the charts in your grasp closer to your chest, “any time, Dr Parker.”

“Peter, please,” his thumb extended to click the top of his blue pen before sliding it into the breast pocket of his white coat, “hey, I was gonna go grab a cup of coffee right now, do you wanna join?” he tried to keep his tone casual.

Blinking back at him, your breath couldn’t help but get caught in your throat, “I–, uhm… I’d love to, but I get off in a little bit. Wednesdays are always just morning shifts for me.”

“Oh, alright,” he nodded understandingly, though the gentle rejection still tainted his features slightly.

“But another time,” you offered, successfully brightening his smile once more.

“Yeah?” his elbow curled up to lean against the supportive railing that lined the hospital hallways.

“Sure. I mean, I drink coffee, you drink coffee,” you awkwardly began to dig yourself into a hole, “the chances of us bumping into each other at the coffee cart are pretty high–”

But your sentence was then cut short as Peter’s pager suddenly pinged in his pocket.

Fishing the small device out, his eyes flickered down to the small screen before he croaked, “oh, sorry. I gotta run.”

“Of course,” you swiftly waved a hand and watched as his feet began to shuffle into a run.

“Talk later!” Peter called over his shoulder before he rounded a corner and disappeared into the maze of the hospital.

Twisting around, your feet carried you the remaining distance towards the nurses’ station overlooking the ICU. As you laid the stack of files in your arms down on the counter, a familiar voice found your ears right before her visage popped into your periphery.

“Please tell me that that was what I think it was.”

Your gaze stayed glued on the charts a moment longer as you ignored your friend’s prying, “hello to you too, Kate.”

When your head finally raised and you let her catch your eye, her wide ones questioned you before she expectantly poked once more, “well?”

“Well what?” you shrugged, though your feeble attempts at shutting the pending subject down failed as she shot you a glare, efficiently causing you to crumble with a sigh, “yes, he asked me out again–, or kinda. It was just coffee.”

“And you finally said yes?” she smiled keenly.

Holding back your scoff, you simply uttered, “no,” before spinning on your heel.

“Again?” she shuffled slightly to catch up to the pace you swiftly slipped into, “why not? He’s kind, he’s a doctor, he’s hot,” she listed off, counting on her fingers, “he’s literally perfect for you.”

“I know he is…” you tilted your head, almost with an air of shame, “he’s exactly the type of guy that I should be running after…”

Though you liked him as a person and cared for him enough to call him your friend, those feelings you caught yourself forcing just hadn’t bubbled up yet. He was the kind of man that you deserved, that you should fall for, and certainly not the monster that still haunted you, that for some reason wouldn’t stop popping into your mind, especially at inappropriate times, like very late at night…

“So then why aren’t you?” Kate asked as you entered the employee locker room.

And though thoughts of a gruff gangster caused your heart to swell, you still muttered, “I don’t know…” as an excuse before you popped open your locker and uttered, “hey… what do you know about mobsters here in the city?

“Other than the horror stories I’ve picked up in the ER, not too much,” she leaned against the row of cubbies beside your own as you dug out your bag and began to change out of your scrubs and back into the clothes you’d worn early this morning when the sun was still only a promise waiting to rise, “though I did grow up here, so I probably do know a bit more than you,” she acknowledged your move to the city only a few years prior, “why? Are you suddenly in the mood for a change in careers?”

Though the truth was on the tip of your tongue, you still found yourself obeying the commands the gangsters had sent you home with. Telling the cops was no use because they were all in their pockets, and confiding in a loved one also wasn’t a smart choice as that would only put them in danger.

“Have you ever heard of someone called Bucky Barnes?” you asked, instinctively lowering your voice to a whisper.

The ever light-hearted expression plastered upon Kate’s face fell at the recognition of that name, “yeah…”

“Really?” your brows rose, “what do you know about him?”

“I mean, other than that he’s the supposed leader of the Avengers, not too much.”

“The Avengers?”

“Yeah, one of New York’s most notorious gangs,” she let out a breath, “from what little I know, they get up to a shit ton of stuff straight out of a De Niro movie or something, but their real money maker is cocaine… I mean, that’s why the head of the group is known as the winter soldier.”

“How do you know about all this stuff?” you squinted back at her in slight amazement.

“Went to med school with a few coke heads, might have dated one of them,” she blurted before shaking her head and getting back to the subject at hand, “anyways, Y/n, the point is, you don’t wanna mess with those types, trust me.”

“I know,” you uttered quietly as you shrugged on your coat and pushed your locker closed, “I wasn’t planning on it, I was just curious…”

As you dragged your foaming toothbrush over the last of your teeth, a loud knock suddenly rattled your front door, causing you to jump atop the pink bathmat in your tiny bathroom.

Neck twisted out towards the entryway of your apartment, you briefly leaned over the sink to spit out the toothpaste slowly leaking out of your mouth, before your feet began to carry you towards the exit.

One of your palms momentarily ran over the edge of your pyjama-clad arm as the night chill soaked through the cotton and made you yearn for the warmth of your bed.

Though as you pulled on the handle, the haunting figures on the other side of the door caused your blood to freeze with recognition. Standing tall on the other side of the threshold, there stood two of the Avengers’ henchmen.

“You need to come with us,” the one called Barton ordered coldly. Over the few days the gang had held you captive, you’d picked up on the names of many of the members, including the two that stood before you now.

“What?” your chest rose and fell rapidly, “I–, please, I swear, I haven’t told a soul.”

Having them knock at your door was one thing, but even just the thought of criminals such as them knowing where you lived sent you into a spiral.

“Yeah, we know you haven’t,” Scott put a hand on the doorframe, “that’s not why we’re here.”

“What happened?” you murmured as you were led into one of the many sitting rooms in the mysterious manor they once again brought you to. In an armchair before you, half-empty glass of bourbon in metal hand and the sleeves rolled up on his blood-tainted shirt, there sat the big bad winter soldier himself, panting as he slowly sipped.

Though when the sound of your voice filled the room, Bucky’s eyes only snapped up to yours for a moment before he shot a glare at his men.

“What is she doing here?” he grumbled lowly.

“Boss, you busted your stitches,” Lang gestured tensely to the crimson slowly staining his crisp white shirt, “what else were we–”

Intersecting the conversation, the broad form of Steve stepped into the space between the gangsters and swiftly snuffed the pending argument out, “thank you, Barton, Lang,” he nodded to each of them, “you can go,” and you watched the pair that had brought you back exited the room. Shifting his weight, Bucky’s right hand man turned to you and offered you a polite smile, “Y/n, pleasure to see you again.”

“Yeah,” you exhaled, not masking your disdain of the situation you’d been dragged into yet again, “I wish I could say the same…” before you shifted your eyes to the man in the chair, though still directed your question at Steve, “what do you need me to do?”

As you shifted closer to the intimidating leader, ever drinking, surely to dull the pain, Rogers murmured as you kneeled down to assess, “I think it’s just the one on his shoulder that’s–”

“Yeah, I see it,” you cut him off, then glanced back over your shoulder at him, “do you still have that medical bag?”

“Yeah, one second,” he swiftly disappeared to fetch it, leaving you all alone with the feared mob boss.

With the crackling fireplace off to the side as your only source of light, you cautiously raised your hands and asked, “do you mind taking this off?” motioning to the shirt he wore.

“Yeah, sure,” Bucky sighed and sat down his glass before shrugging the item off. Though you’d stared at his bare chest for hours on end before, soaking in his reveal once again for some reason caused your heartbeat to pick up, though you swiftly averted your gaze in an attempt at staying professional.

Not long passed before Rogers had returned with the supplies, and you’d commenced redoing his stitches.

“So,” you murmured though your concentration, weaving his skin back together, “do I even wanna know how this happened?”

Blinking down at you, your face close to your work and therefore his skin, Bucky breathed, “probably not...” and as his stare only intensified over the next few stitches, his low timbre once again washed over you as the corners of his lips tugged into the slightest of smirks, “cute PJs, by the way…”

“Yeah, I didn’t exactly get a chance to change,” you felt your cheeks heat up.

“Oh, I'm not complaining,” his gaze shifted to take in the way the cool night air had caused your nipples to become visible like pebbles beneath the thin stripy fabric, the comment making you shift tensely on your knees.

Once the last of the knots were tied off and you’d snipped the end of the thread, you wrapped the wounds back up with clean bandages before placing the roll of gauze back into the medical bag.

“Alright, uhm,” you shifted back, “you’re good now,” a slight winch shot through you as you watched him briefly test out his arm’s mobility, “just be careful, try not to use it too much.”

Catching your eye, he uttered softly, “thank you,” before shifting his gaze to the gangster by the door, “Rogers?”

“Yes, boss?”

“See to it that she gets home safe.”

ONE MONTH LATER

“I’ve heard the risotto here is really good,” Peter noted as you both skimmed the menus resting on the tablecloth before you, the crystal chandeliers illuminating the restaurant cast a soft glow down upon the choices.

“Yeah?” you briefly glanced up to catch the doctor’s eye, “well, maybe I should get that then,” you shrugged before shifting slightly in your seat, “hey,” you captured his gaze once more, “could you maybe order for me? I just need to–…” you trailed off, letting the thumb you discreetly pointed over your shoulder in the direction of the bathrooms fill out the rest of the sentence.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” he nodded.

“Great, thank you,” you smiled as you rose. The long, cobalt-blue, velvet dress you wore briefly swooshed around your legs before the soft click of your heels against the polished floors carried you through the maze of tables.

It was the third date you’d ventured on with the kind doctor. The third one and yet you still didn’t have any feelings towards him.

Stubbornly trying as you might, you still couldn’t get the poison out of your system and do the right thing.

Once you exited the ladies’ room, and big breath of courage in your lungs as you pushed open the door, it all seeped out as you walked through the small hallway that connected the lavatories with the dining space, and you accidentally bumped into two figures that waited in the space.

Unsure of who was to blame for the collision, you immediately just muttered, “oh, sorry–,” before you glanced up at the pair and your apology crumbled from your lips, your frame immediately freezing up at the recognition.

“Listen to me. You are going to quietly walk back to your little date, tell him that you’re not feeling well and need to go home,” Stark kept his voice hushed as both he and the other gangster slowly cornered you, the other one grasping your arm to keep you in place, “and then you’re gonna come with us.”

Sucking in a breath, you then tilted your chin slightly, “and if I don’t?”

“Then we won’t hesitate to make a scene,” Barton shifted the edge of his jacket out of the way to flash you the gun strapped beneath, “so you can either walk with us and safe a life or you can not only have a dying gangster’s blood on your hands, but also everyone in this fucking restaurant.”

With the clench of your jaw, you glared up at them and murmured, “...fine,” before you ripped your arm free and began to walk back into the dining area and the table where Peter still sat.

Flashing you a smile as you neared, the doctor swiftly said, “so, I ordered this chardonnay that the waiter said was good. You drink wine, right?”

“I–, uhm…” your fingers clutched the back of the chair as you tried to appear as you had before, even though now you felt as if your hammering heart might spring straight out of your ribcage, “Peter, I’m really sorry, but I gotta go,” you briefly scrambled your brain before adding, “the hospital paged me. There was a big accident downtown.”

“Really?” he fished out his own beeper from his pocket and furrowed down at it, “I didn’t get paged, so it probably can’t be that bad.”

“Yeah, but nurses shortage, you know?”

“Right,” he nodded, disappointment slightly polluting his understanding expression.

“I'm really sorry,” you uttered as you picked up your small purse from the chair.

“No, it’s fine,” he shook his head gently, “hey, I get it,” he shrugged before waving a hand, “go.”

“Thank you,” you stood there a moment longer, unsure of how you should depart, “uhm… bye,” before you awkwardly shifted closer to his seat and leaned down to press a brief kiss to his cheek as you offered him a half-hearted hug.

“Who is it this time?” you sighed as you were led into an elegant space, surely intended for parties judging by the long bar that stretched along the back wall. Glaring at the only man seated on one of the barstools, you asked impatiently, “is it you? Did you hurt yourself again?”

Glancing over his shoulder as you halted your stride halfway down the short steps, a smile appeared on Bucky’s face as he leaned a forearm against the bar top and bellowed, “Y/n! Come, have a drink with me,” he waved a hand for you to take the seat beside him.

Standing your ground, you squinted back at him in confusion, “no, I can’t, I–, where’s the patient?”

“The patient?” he echoed as if you were speaking a foreign language.

“Yes,” you huffed, your annoyance simmering into a full-on boil, “the person who’s on death’s door, the reason why I, a medical professional, is here,” you placed your hands on your hips and asked once again, “is it you?”

“No, I’m phenomenal,” he pursed his lips as he snatched up the stout glass waiting for him on the marble counter, “never been better.”

“Okay, so who is it?”

Tearing his gaze away from you, he then uttered, “no one,” before raising the drink up to his lips. As your mouth parted and your glare nearly burned straight through him, the mobster casually added, “you look stunning, by the way,” before twisting in his seat to face you more, “I didn’t know they changed scrubs out with gowns.”

“No, I–, I was on a date–,” you muttered faintly through your confusion, slightly shaking your head in an attempt to clear it before you raised a hand, “wait, excuse me, no one’s injured?”

“No,” Barnes shook his head, “no one’s hurt or dying,” then added as if your reaction was a tad bit too dramatic for his taste, “you can relax, it’s fine.”

But instead, the opposite emotions roiled inside of you as you slowly ascended a single one of the remaining steps, “so you mean to tell me that your men threatened me, my date and a whole restaurant of people, then dragged me all the way out here again, for nothing?” you fumed.

“No, it wasn’t for nothing,” he shrugged, “they brought you back here because I told them to,” he kept his ocean eyes upon you as he once again repeated, “now, come drink with me.”

“No, I don’t want a fucking drink,” you roared.

But then, just as swiftly as you had raised your voice, Bucky’s steely hand dipped beneath his suit jacket and pulled out a gun.

“I asked you nicely,” his stern tone rolled off his tongue slowly as he aimed the weapon upon you, “now sit your ass down and share a drink with me.”

Carefully, you finally followed his orders and sat down at the bar beside him.

“Good girl. That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” he uttered as he sat the gun down beside his drink. Raising up a hand to the silent shadow behind the bar, a glass was soon slid across the counter, one Bukcy pushed closer towards you, “here,” he said as you stared down at the orange peel floating at the top. As you lifted up the cocktail, the gangster beside you raised his own to click yours, “cheers.”

You briefly toyed with the thought of just taking a sip, though opted instead to down it all, both out of the desperate hope that the alcohol would aid the strange evening, but also in an attempt to fast forward a tad closer to your longed-for departure, ripping the bandage off instead of nursing it all night long.

Though as you sat the glass back down on the bar, the bottom clanged against the marble much more forcefully than you’d intended as the fingers you clutched it with began to tingle. Blinking heavily a few times, your hand accidentally knocked over the empty drink as a numbing sensation began to bloom within your chest and spread throughout your body.

Trying to get up from your seat, you mumbled foggily, “what the hell?” though quickly stumbled as your legs felt like jelly beneath your velvet gown.

“Whoa, careful now, angel,” Bucky’s calm gaze trailed you chillingly as you tried to steady yourself.

“The fuck did you do?” you panted as your wide eyes watched him raise from his seat.

“It's okay,” he uttered softly, “it’s all gonna be okay,” before your world turned to black and you passed out into his arms.

When you finally stirred, you were no longer at the bar, nor any other room you’d been in before. You were in a bedroom, situated on a spacious mattress and alongside countless fluffy maroon pillows.

As you sat up, a low rustling found your ears and drew your vision down towards the coldness clinging around your ankle. Strung between the bottom corner of the bedframe and your own foot, there shined a chain, one that, try as you instinctively did, you couldn’t snap out of.

But then, as the door to the room creaked open and caused your body to flinch, a plea swiftly flowed out of you as you watched Rogers step inside, balancing a small tray with a glass and a tall decanter of clear water.

“Steve!” you crawled to the bottom of the bed, “I–… help me, please,” you begged, hearing tears thicken up your voice as they rolled down your cheeks, “you’re a good man, deep down I know you don’t wanna stand by and let this happen. Can you unlock me? Please? Help me get out of here.”

But just as you waited for Steve’s lips to part, you instead heard, “shh, don’t waste your breath, honey,” as in strolled Bucky, causing you to swiftly scramble as far back on the bed as the chain would allow.

Sitting down in a chair just out of your reach, the fireplace opposing the bed, directly behind where he sat, clacked and lit up his spine as he settled into the seat and directed his cold gaze upon you.

“Glad to see you awake,” he uttered calmly.

“Fuck you!” you swiftly spat as you hugged your knees tightly to your chest.

“And with all of your charms still intact,” he tilted his head, a light smirk blooming on his lips as your vulgar language hadn’t fazed him one bit.

“Let me go,” you demanded.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen, my angel,” his burly arms folded across his chest, “this is for your own protection,” he briefly gestured to the chain, “we wouldn’t want you to do anything stupid or rash now, would we?” one of his eyebrows twitched, “I can’t let anything happen to you,” he uttered as you continued to stare daggers at him, “you need to be kept as safe as possible so you can keep on helping me the way that you have.”

“What? You want me to be your gang’s personal nurse?” you scoffed, “is this your sick and twisted way of offering me a job, because if so, no thanks!”

“Yeah, no, this isn’t a job offering, I’m not interested in those talents of yours,” he leaned further back in the seat before he began to explain, “you see, for the past few years, I’ve had a serious string of bad luck. Deals have fallen through, rats have been found, the feds have been snipping at our heels and countless of my men have lost their lives,” he listed off, “but, then I met you,” his eyes flickered up to capture your own, “and it all turned around,” he uttered, “I tell you, when you’re here, it’s fate herself is on my side and nothing whatsoever could go wrong. Like having you has made me a fucking god or something, that’s the level of power you’ve bestowed in me,” a faint smile tugged at his lips as those words rolled off his tongue, “so no, you can not leave. You have to stay right here where I can make sure you’re safe and sound. Although, just because you get to be kept safe, that doesn’t mean you’re free of any consequences if you step out of line… it also doesn’t mean that I’ll deny anyone of your beauty if it pleases them… so, I guess it’s more along the lines of you just staying alive under my watch.”

In the blind rage his words threw you into, your fingers wrapped around the bedside lamp before you chucked it across the room. Though just before it could strike the gangster’s head, he casually ducked out of the way, the lamp instead smashing on the floor behind him as a chuckle began to rumble within his chest.

“That’s cute,” he laughed lowly, “you’ve got some bite. It’ll get you in trouble, but it’s adorable.”

“I'm not interested in being your good luck charm, you superstitious fuck!” you yelled as he got up from his seat.

Huffing out a condescending grin, “give it some time, angel,” he fastened the button on his dark suit jacket before smoothing a palm down over the front, “the human psyche is much more fragile than you’d think and can get used to some surprising conditions,” he ignored the scream that desperately tore from your lungs and instead turned to Steve standing by the door and asked him calming, “Rogers, would you mind cleaning that up?” gesturing to the broken lamp on the floor, and as he received a small nod in return, he murmured, “thank you,” before exiting the room and leaving you to your fate.

“Seriously?” Steve let out a laugh when he finally coaxed the truth out as to why you hadn’t been touching any of the food they’d brought you, “and here I thought you were just a picky eater.”

“Well, you’ve already drugged me once so what’s stopping you from doing it again,” you explained, glaring down at the plate before you as he attempted to stifle his laughter.

“I swear, cross my heart, your pasta is not poisoned.”

Continuing to squint down at the food, you kissed your teeth, “prove it.”

“Really?” his brows floated up, “alright,” he sighed as he sat down across from you. Dragging your plate closer, he twirled some of the spaghetti onto the fork before slipping it into his mouth, “see?” he chewed, “I’m fine, and so will you be when you get some food in that belly of yours.”

Pushing it back towards you, hesitantly, you picked up the fork and slowly began to eat. It had only been little things you’d consumed the past couple of days being here, things you could be certain weren’t tainted, like the odd apple and such.

Though as you chewed and finally began to settle your stomach’s nauseating rumbling, tears began to stream down your cheeks.

No matter how hard you tried to beg, none of the mobsters would help you, as their loyalty was just too hard for you to crack.

“Hey…” your bloodshot eyes then flickered up to Rogers as he noticed your weeping, “it’ll get easier, I promise,” he attempted in a soft tone.

“How?” you blinked back at him hopelessly, “I am being locked up in a room by a maniac as if I’m just some trinket for him to own.”

Throwing a brief glance over his shoulder, he then leaned in a bit closer to cautiously advise you, “…there might be some things you could do to change your situation…”

“What?” a spark suddenly flickered within you, “I’d do anything.”

“…you might consider trying to get closer to Barnes…” his words remained hesitant, “…if he begins to care for you, then he might treat you differently…”

“Like, he’d let me go?”

“I don’t know,” he exhaled, “but maybe it could get that chain off your ankle,” he gestured to your foot, “baby steps.”

ONE MONTH LATER

“Here,” Steve croaked as he suddenly burst through the doors to your room, a big flat box in his arms which he tossed on the bed beside you. Peeking inside, a folded-up bundle of black fabric met your eye, “put it on,” he ordered hastily, “make yourself presentable.”

“Why?” you blinked up at him, your brows knitting gently together.

“Because the boss requested it,” he answered impatiently.

“What, he wants to play dress up with me now? Treat me like a doll?”

Over the past month, you had gone from being scared out of your mind, barely sleeping at night, horrified of what they might do to you, till the paralysing fear slowly began to melt away as not much happened at all, in fact so little that you grew bored in your imprisonment, thinking that the big bad gangsters were just all bark and no bite. Perhaps that was a dangerous confidence to develop, growing cocky in your restlessness, but you couldn’t help it.

Letting out a low sigh, “just put it on,” Rogers’ head tilted before he said, “I’ll be outside, yell when you’re done.”

Popping the lid off all the way, you then slipped into the black gown waiting within. It was long and simple in its beauty as it hugged all of your curves like a second skin.

Right before you called out to the mobster in the hallway, you leaned in closer to the mirror on the left side of the room. The dark storm clouds visible out the gothic windows that filled up the wall behind you blossomed in the reflection alongside you as you momentarily fussed with your hair to make it match the elegant dress better.

Once Steve had entered the room once again, the very last thing you expected was what he did next.

Walking straight up to you, without a word, he bent down and unlocked the chain binding you to the bedpost. At first, a wave of hope washed over you till it was drowned out by the unsettling notion as to where he would take you and just what plans were on the horizon.

Grabbing you by the arm, he dragged you out of the room and down the dark hallway you’d only seen glimpses of before. You tried to ask him what was going on, though he didn’t offer you any clue in return, only remained silent as he hauled you through the maze-like manor till a wide set of steps found you, leading you down into a garage where a group of the other gangsters already stood beside the black car rolled up by the base of the stairs.

Standing in the middle with an arm resting against the roof of the vehicle, Bucky’s gaze swiftly landed upon you as you ascended the stone steps.

“Well,” the mob boss’ eyes roamed your form, “don’t you look pretty.”

Biting your tongue, you greeted him politely, “Mr Barnes.”

“Shall we go?” he cracked open one of the car doors.

“Where?” you tried, though your question only caused him to breathe out a smile as he ignored it and instead commanded softly.

“Get in the car, angel,” his metal arm rested atop the door.

Riding in a different vehicle than you, it was Clint who slipped in behind the wheel of your car and drove you the silent route towards the mysterious destination.

Though once the car came to a stop, the door to your left cracked open from the outside and there to greet you was an outstretched metal hand to help you exit.

You didn’t recognise the building that loomed before you, though it was grand and opulent with large steps leading you and all the other arrivals up to what sounded like a party already buzzing on.

“So, you needed a date,” you exhaled as Barnes took your arm and began to lead you up the stairs, a cluster of his men shadowing behind you both.

“No,” he cocked his head, “I didn’t need it...”

Casting your glance around at the other guests that passed, you asked, “what kinda party is this anyway? Let me guess, human trafficking auction?” you were completely serious, though still managed to make the gangster laugh gently.

“It’s a wedding,” his chuckle finished billowing out of his lungs, “or a funeral,” he tilted his head, “I'm not quite sure.”

“How could you not be sure?” you shot him a glance as you reached the top of the steps and he dragged you inside the marbled halls, “there’s a pretty significant difference.”

“They all just kinda melt together at this point,” he sighed, “I have at least one of these a week I gotta show my face at, just out of respect.”

Taking a look around, you uttered, “well, do you at least know who this funeral wedding is for?”

“No fucking clue,” he exhaled before following the signs and leading you into the venue’s ballroom.

Turns out it was a wedding for some couple you hadn’t yet spotted, though you’d already read their names a thousand times with all the stuff they were plastered upon.

You stayed quiet and lingered by Bucky’s side as he shook some people’s hands and made some small talk before the two of you found yourselves seated at one of the many round tables in the hall.

Blinking up at the floral centrepiece, your fingers fiddled with the white tablecloth as the hours rolled by. Soon, not only the complementary glass of champagne you’d been handed back when you arrived was sloshing in your belly, but also quite a bit more alcohol as you decided that was a good tool to make the evening more bearable.

It however also came with the hindrance of boosting your cockiness as you eventually found yourself poking the bear.

“You know for a big bad gangster,” you stared over at him, leaned back in the seat next to yours, “you’re actually not that scary up close,” you pursed your lips, causing a chuckle to rumble within his chest because of just how untrue that statement was, “smiling at everyone, being polite. Are you sure you really are the big bad winter solider? The king of New York with no heart and only an imagination for torture…”

“Well…” he huffed out a short laugh as he met your gaze, “don’t you have me just all figured out.”

“Some of your guys may have filled me in a bit,” you tilted your head.

“Have they now?” he continued to look amused.

“Yeah, well, a bit at least,” you seized your glass and took another sip.

As you placed the flute back down on the table and rested your cheek in a propped-up palm, your stare only intensified into a squint as Bucky’s eyes flickered back around the room.

But as his gaze fluttered back to notice your gawking, he muttered, “what?”

“Why aren’t you mean tonight?” you uttered through the haze fuzzing up your mind.

Tongue flicking out to wet his lips, his eyes briefly dipped before he uttered, “do you want me to be mean?” a playful smirk twitched at the corner of his lip in a threat to appear.

“Is it all just a lie?” you asked, the subtext of his previous words flowing directly over your dizzy head.

“What?”

Squinting back at him, you then breathed, “there’s always a part of me that’s still scared, imagining what you might do to me… but now,” you slowly drew out, “I don’t think you’re actually ever gonna do anything,” you blindly decided, “that’s not really who you are, they’re all just empty threats…”

“Hm…” he hummed, a slight smile blooming upon his lips as he stared back at you, “okay…” before he leaned in closer to utter, “and just what makes you think that I haven’t already?” your face immediately dropped as his words caused your frame to freeze up, “tell me, Y/n,” his breath fanned across your cheeks, “did you sleep well last night? Or the night before for that matter, or–, well, just during the time you’ve spent here with me?”

As your shock not only showed in your expression but also in your complete lack of speech, he simply grinned back at your stunned features before grabbing you by the hand and breaking the moment.

“Come on,” he dragged you with him as he then stood up himself, “let’s dance.”

With an argument on the tip of your tongue, the appendage, just as the rest of you, still remained too dumbfounded for it to come to fruition. You didn’t manage to gather your wits once again till he had you on the middle of the floor, wide hand on your waist as you swayed to the music.

As his hold slowly tightened and he brought you closer to his broad frame, your breath suddenly hitched as you blinked up into his eyes, the air between you growing thick. The hand that grasped your own near swallowed your palm in a dizzying contrast. Goosebumps began to erupt across your skin as you felt your heartbeat thump not only in your chest, but also much further south, a mortifying clue to the dark truth you hoped he didn’t somehow notice.

Gliding his palm up the length of your spine, it came to rest between your shoulder blades as he then drew you in closer and your gaze fell to the band strumming over his shoulder.

“Does the thought of me playing with you at night turn you on?” he whispered in your ear and continued to gently sway you to the music, “because if you want me to wake you, all you have to do is ask. Though my attempts so far at rubbing your luck off on me have been rather eventful, I’m still sure it would be better if you gave me a bit of a hand…”

Tilting your head back to blink up at him, you thought you were gonna spit him in the face for making such an accusation, till your stare acted of its own accord and fluttered down to fixate on his lips.

It almost felt as if they were calling for you, begging you closer like a stubborn magnet. But before you could close the short distance that kept you two apart, Barton appeared in your periphery and tapped his boss on the shoulder.

As he leaned in to whisper in his ear, you couldn’t pick up on the words over the music, though watched as Bucky’s face swiftly grew hard.

“What’s going on?” you asked as the secretive message came to an end and the mobster’s wide hands faded from your frame.

Ignoring your question, Bucky instead cast his glance over your head at one of the men behind you and ordered sternly, “Stark? Get her home, now.”

“What’s happening?” you tried again, though without success as Tony dragged you away and the remaining gathered to converse in hushed tones.

Perhaps it was because of the chaos of whatever was happening, perhaps just a simple mistake, but when you returned back to the manor, the shackle wasn’t reunited with your ankle.

Not willing to let that gift slip through your fingers, you soon grasped that opportunity tight and made an attempt at your escape.

Sneaking down the many hallways, you successfully hid from a handful of gruff-looking men before you realised you couldn’t remember the path to the garage or any other way out of the labyrinth of a building that kept you swallowed in the dark.

However, your mission turned into a swiftly sinking ship as soon as you rounded the wrong corner and crossed the threshold of the last room you should have entered.

In the centre of the space stood two chairs, both with individuals strapped to them, though only one of them was still alive. Before the seated pair and with his back turned to your frozen-up form, there stood Bucky. Returned from the party and with both his jacket and tie torn off, his sleeves were rolled up though still tainted in small crimson flecks of the deed he’d just done.

“Come on, Vladimir…” Barnes uttered as he kneeled down in front of the battered man still breathing, neither he nor the other members in the room haven noticed you in the doorway, “just give me what I want and we can wrap this up.”

Wheezing painfully through his broken nose, the man met Bucky’s steely gaze before fulfilling his request, “…I’m sorry…”

“Hm?” he leaned in pettily, “what was that?”

“I’m sorry,” the tied-up man repeated with a laboured huff.

“Okay, getting there,” he nodded, “what are you sorry for?”

“I’m sorry for killing Bruce…” the name rolled off Vladimir’s tongue like a crackle to a bonfire.

“And?” Bucky fished.

“For hurting you…”

“See? That wasn’t so bad now,” Barnes straightened back up, “an apology, a life for the one you took from me, and now there’s just one last thing left to do, and then we’re even,” he then took one step back and conjured his gun. Aiming it at the Russian, barely a second passed before a shot deafened everyone’s ears and a bullet blasted through the tied-up man’s arm, mirroring the injuries Bucky himself had sustained. The loud blast and the bloodcurdling scream that tore from Vladimir, however, caught you so off guard that a shriek slipped from you as you flinched, revealing your presence as everybody’s eyes suddenly shifted to train on you. Glancing over his shoulder, Bucky grunted, “what are you doing out? What is she doing out?” he shot his glare in the direction of Steve off to the side, “Rogers? Get her back into bed.”

“Yes, boss,” his right-hand man swiftly nodded before catching up to you in two long steps and seizing your arm.

And as you were dragged back to your doom, your eyes caught the tail end as Barnes let out a sigh and turned back around to face his victim, “now, where were we? Right! I believe the other one was right around here,” another gunshot echoed in the manor as he shot Vladimir’s arm once more, “and now, we can’t forget about the ones that only skimmed me, so get up and don’t fucking flinch, it’s on you if I hit your lung.”

The chain reunited with your ankle jingled as you twisted on the bed to cast your gaze out the window. Heavy rain hammered against the tall panes as the restless city twinkled through the darkness of the night. In the corner of the room, Steve watched up like a hawk as you continuously failed to find rest.

But then, just as you thought you felt your heartbeat return to a normal rhythm, the double doors burst open and in paced Bucky.

“Is she awake?” he huffed, though didn’t wait for an answer before he heatedly went on, “okay, great.”

As his rushed steps halted by the foot of your bed, the look in his eye caused your body to shudder.

“Rogers?” he kept his cold stare glued on you as he uttered, “go wait outside.”

Though you silently pleaded with your eyes for the mobster to stay, it was no use as Steve swiftly shut the doors behind him.

As the man before you then shifted, your wide eyes finally noticed the bundle of rope in his grasp as he began to unravel it. Scrambling back, you didn’t manage to crawl far away before Bucky caught the chain and yanked it hard enough to force your frame down towards him. Though your struggling finally fizzled out when the gangster pulled out his gun, the very gun he’d just ended a life with, and aimed it at your head to get you to comply.

“You know,” he uttered gruffly like a pent-up bull, “I’ve been nice, I’ve been real well behaved, kept my manners intact, been a goddamn gentleman,” the heavy weapon in his hand tilted slightly to emphasise his words, “but evidently, that’s not what you need to learn your fucking place,” he fumed before letting out a low exhale, “that’s alright…”

“Bucky, please,” tears blurred your vision as you held up your palms, “I-I understand, I’m sorry, you don’t have to do this.”

“Oh, but I do…” he sighed almost softly as he then kneeled down closer and let the tip of the cool barrel stroke your cheek, “…if you don’t break a horse, then she’ll never be tamed…” his eyes trailed after the line he drew before it flickered up to find your own, “now give me your hands,” he ordered and hesitantly, you shakily obeyed.

Since you couldn’t stay in your place, he simply had to tie you down better.

Unfurling the rope in his grasp, the mobster then fastened the cord around not only both of your wrists, but also your free ankle. After each of the tight knots were tied off, he yanked each appendage to the nearest corner of the bedframe, spreading your limbs till you looked like a starfish on the mattress.

Taking a step back to admire his handiwork, his fingers then dipped down into his pocket before a slight furrow found his brow as his touch didn’t locate the item he fished for. Placing the heavy gun in his palm down on the fireplace mantel, he then closed the distance towards the exit and cracked open the door just a smidge.

“Rogers?” he extended a hand through the sliver, “give me your knife,” to which a switchblade was swiftly placed in his palm, replacing his own which was still lodged deeply inside the corpse of the Russian in the other room.

Slamming the door behind him, he then crossed the room and silently began to cut your clothes off. The black gown you still wore came off with only a few slices, though your underwear, that he took his time with, slowly grazing the blade over your goosebump-ridden flesh before nicking the cotton clinging tightly to your frame.

Once you were bare before him, his feet shuffled back slightly as he let his stare soak up every millimetre of you.

A hand floated up to tug on his tie and loosen it slightly from around the collar still dappled with the blood of his enemy. Folding closed the knife with a faint flourish, he then sank down into the armchair directly behind him. The tattered panties he’d sliced from you were still clutched tightly in his hand as his eyes stayed glued upon your frame. Bringing the fabric up to his nose, his blue eyes then fluttered closed for a second as he breathed deeply, letting the scent of you flood his senses.

But as he stuffed the cotton down into his pocket and let his palm drift to somewhere else, your eyes grew even wider as you gasped, “what are you–”

“Just shut up, please,” he groaned, sounding like he was at his very last straw as he brashly began to rub himself through his pants, “just for one fucking second, don’t be a brat.”

Your jaw couldn’t help but hit the floor as he shamelessly pulled out his cock, letting the intimidating hardness spring free of its confines before he spit in his palm and enclosed his fist around the fat girth. You wanted to look away, you truly did, but you just couldn’t, a flaw he obviously noticed.

“You’re unbelievable…” he chuckled as his fist silkily stroked up and down his cock, the mixture of his own spit and the precum beading at the tip caused a sloppy melody to fill the room at each and every twist, “I mean, me being into you, that’s one thing, that makes sense, you’re the closest thing to magic that I’ve ever experienced, so of course that’s enough to get me going, but you… you’re the very textbook definition of a good girl and here you are pining after–, how was it again you put it? A superstitious fuck?”

Stunned at his accusation, you tried to tear your stare away, “I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“Really? Well, I didn’t take you for a fool, but hey,” he tilted his head, “some folks are just that disconnected to their own feelings.”

Blinking back at him, you scoffed faintly, “you’re crazy, I’m not–…” but you couldn’t even say it out loud as you, deep down, knew that it was a lie.

“Oh yeah?” he cocked a brow, finding your flustered state amusing, “then why did you almost kiss me tonight?”

“I–…I was drunk.”

Letting out a dark chuckle, “alright, sure,” he then rose from his seat and crawled up on the bed with you before he buried his face between your parted thighs, “if you despise me so much, then why are you so fucking wet?” his hot breath fanned across your core.

“I’m not–,” you tried, though your attempt then fell short as he proved you wrong, reaching out his touch to tickle at your lightly and let the wet sounds of your arousal slosh into your soul.

“Hm?” the broad pad of his thumb gently brushed over your glistening petals, making them part for him, “if this isn’t because deep down you want me, then why? I’d love to hear you try and explain your way out of this one…”

“I-I–…” your eyes fluttered as you tried to fight the feeling, “I don’t…”

Laughing lightly through the scoff that then bubbled out of him, he averted his gaze and said, “okay, fine. You wanna play that game?” his eyes flickered back up to find yours, “if you need a bit of help in order to admit the truth, then that’s what you’ll get,” he uttered before suddenly stuffing two of his fingers inside of you.

Craning his neck, he tilted down to catch a taste. You tried to hold back your moans as his digits caressed you, but the softness of his velvety tongue came as such a shock that a little squeak managed to slip out past your lips.

“I mean, if it’s any consolation,” his stubbly chin glimmered with your essence as he retracted slightly to smirk, “I personally think it’s kinda cute that you have a crush on me like a little schoolgirl…”

He then sent his palm down upon your pussy in a wet smack, before repeating the action a couple of times to echo the jolt it shot through your body.

“Fuck…” he groaned in a low rumble, “you are so much more pretty awake…” he revealed casually, “sure, you make some cute noises in your sleep, but not like this,” you instinctually tried to stifle the uncontrollable whimpers that flowed from your lungs, “you should really be thanking me for all of the time and effort I’ve put into stretching this little hole of yours out,” his fingers continued to pump in and out of you, “if I hadn’t, well then you might just split in two when I finally get my cock in there.”

And as he leaned down to lap you up once more, you curled your toes as you felt him push you closer to the edge.

“Mr Barnes…” you attempted with an air of respect through your pants, “please don’t–…”

“Why? Because it makes you want to kiss me again?” he teasingly taunted you before continuing his persistent licks, bullying your clit into submission.

And as he kept going, even as you gasped, “stop–, a-ah!” he still kept his lips locked around your puffy pearl long after a gush of squirt wept around his fingers, keeping his efforts up till your hips were bucking back in sensitivity.

But when his kiss finally ceased, he let some of your juices, that had flooded into his mouth, trickle out past his lips and back down onto your pussy, “fuck…” his low groan nearly caused the whole room to rumble, “nasty little cunt…” before he slapped your throbbing core once more, watching as the last little trickle weakly leaked out and soaked the sheets below.

Lifting himself up to hover above your constricted form, you then squirmed as you felt him nudge the bulbous tip of him against you.

“Does the idea of liking, or even loving, someone like me scare you that much?” he uttered as he gathered up your slick and smeared it with his cock, “does it make you feel all wrong and icky inside that I of all people make you feel the way that you do?”

All of the air in your lungs was then suddenly knocked clean out as he, with one long stroke, slipped all the way inside, before pulling right back out to tap the weight of him against your poor clit with the hold he had at his base.

“You won’t spontaneously combust if you admit it out loud, you know…”

He repeated the motion, plugging you up completely before he denied your cunt the chance of getting used to the stretch.

“I just wanna hear you say it…”

And on the next time he filled you up to the brim, this time his hips didn’t retract.

Reeling as you fought to comprehend the manner his girth split you open, you gasped weakly, “I can’t…”

“Hmm…” his eyes above you narrowed slightly before he pointed out, “that’s not a no,” and he began to move, “finally getting somewhere…”

The gangster was in no way gentle as he started to fuck your pussy, the selfish force of it caused your body to jostle every time his heavy balls tapped against your slick skin, thereby conducting a lewd beat each time he slammed into you.

Lowing himself to get even closer to you, his nose ghosted against your own from the proximity. The gesture made you assume that he was about to press his lips to yours, though they never touched, even as your own instincts overwhelmed you and made you dizzily tilt up to try and close the gap, “nah-ah-ah,” he swiftly clicked his tongue and moved out of your reach, “admit the truth and then I’ll kiss you all you want.”

With his length still embedded deep within you, he sat back up. His fingers dented your hips as he grabbed onto them and then began to sink them harshly down against his own, lifting your frame entirely off of the mattress as he used you like a toy.

“Oh god…” you whimpered as your eyes fluttered down to notice the faint bulge that appeared in your lower abdomen, the thrusting imprint of his size visibly showing just how deep he buried himself inside of you.

Once he’d plopped your hips back down onto the bed, his hands then instead floated up to play with your tits, the rhythm he offered you causing them to jiggle in his palms. Though once he’d fiercely pinched your nipples and parted ways in a brief tap, his fingers then drifted further down south till his right hand found your puffy clit.

Casting his glance down as he rubbed your pearl, a smirk appeared on his lip as he spotted the way your cream coated his girth. Sweeping down to smear his touch against it, what he did next caught you so off guard that you jostled wildly in your binds in an attempt to hit him for his audacity.

“Ahh!” you yelped as he stuffed two of his fingers in your pussy alongside his already overwhelming girth, “Buck, no, it’s too much!”

But your squeak only caused him to chuckle as he stared down at the way your little hole struggled to take what he gave it, clinging around him so tightly that loud groans began to billow from him as he soon painted your insides white and pumped you full of his cum.

With heavy breaths, he withdrew his dick, though let his digits stay inside your warmth.

“Maybe in time you could become more than just my good luck charm…” he murmured as he flopped down to curl closer to your core, “would you like that?” he nipped at one of your thighs as his load slowly began to leak around his thick fingers, “does the idea of me falling down to my knees before you and declaring my undying love entice you, angel?”

“You’ll just have to do better,” he continued as his digits began to twist within you, “let me mould you and make you perfect for me,” another one of his fingers was stuffed inside of you, causing your eyes to flutter, “just let go,” he breathed, “shut off your brain and let it become a leaky mess just like your pussy already is for me,” he worked another digit into your creamy cunt before grazing the last one against your stretched out opening, “you don’t need to think, you just need to do exactly as I tell you to and everything will be okay,” his tone was soft as his thumb curled close to the others and sank into your pussy with a pop, “just break for me, it’s okay,” your body was shaking beneath him as his entire fist slowly twisted within you, “you’ll be so much more perfect ruined…”

Tears were streaming down your face as you unravelled once more, trembling violently as your pussy clamped down around his wide hand so tightly that it was forced all the way out, a drizzle of your nectar once again spraying out at the intensity.

“Alright!” you let out a sob, “alright… I–… I don’t understand it… but, I–…” you caught his eye and confessed, “ever since the moment I met you, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you… even when I fall asleep, it’s like you’re haunting me in my dreams…” a faint shake found your head as you blinked up at him through your blurry vision, “I don’t wanna feel this way. But–… I do.”

It seemed as though time stood still as Bucky stared down at you, an unreadable expression tinting his features before he finally shifted, slowly leaning down over you and inching closer before he finally pressed his lips to your own.

A faint whimper was muffled against his kiss as you felt the world crumble around you.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it now…” he breathed as he ended the soft peck, “say it again,” his hand slid over your jaw, “practice makes perfect.”

Blinking up into his eyes, you uttered from the bottom of your heart, “I am yours,” a single tear rolled down your cheek as you still trembled beneath him.

“Damn right you are…” his lips tilted into a smile.

Fishing out the borrowed switchblade that still rested within the gangster’s pocket, he then sliced through the ropes and constricted you.

Tangling your arms around his neck as you sat up, you captured his lips once again and felt his touch slide down under your ass before he scooped you into his lap. Your sore pussy wept against his cock, once again throbbing and hard as a rock against your core. As your tongue danced against his own, you couldn’t help but scramble even closer, pressing your body impossibly close to his own as you grinded down against him.

“You are mine,” he groaned as he manhandled your frame in his hold and sank you back down onto his fat dick, “you are my most prized possession,” your bodies met in sticky claps as the aftermath of the rough round moments before still oozed all over this one where passion crackled behind both of your own desperate efforts, “I will never let you go,” he blinked up into your eyes as you rode him, both of you clinging to each other as the end crept ever nearer, “always need you–,” his sentence was briefly broken up by a moan as you rolled your hips, your pussy gripping around him and squeezing him tightly, “need you by my side…”

Once your synced-up orgasms had both shuddered your senses and you were sharing each other’s breath, your eyes remained locked as his throbbing cock stayed buried deep within you.

“So, what now?” your chest rose and fell as you whispered into the night, the pitter-patter of rain splashing against your windows once again catching your attention as it swept over and mingled with your laboured pants of breath.

Not shifting his gaze, his eyes briefly scanned your own in search of any ounce of deception, before his fingers dipped down into his pocket and conjured a tiny key, “now,” and he stretched down to undo the chain at your ankle. The click of the lock felt like a gasp of real air was finally filling your depraved lungs, “I take you to my room,” and he manoeuvred you around to slink one arm in behind your knees while the other stayed fast at your spine. As he rose from the bed, he plucked you up with him as well, carrying you in his hold as he exited the bedroom.

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solxamber · 3 months ago

Text

And I Pick...

In which you choose the club that caught your eye

Part 1

After much contemplation you've finally decided to pick the:

Basketball Club

The basketball court was quiet for all of two seconds after you announced your decision.

Then Ace exploded.

"HA! I knew you’d pick us! I called it!" He was practically doing laps around the court, pointing at nothing in particular. "Ace Trappola: the ultimate recruiter, the club MVP, and now the guy who brought you on board! This is the best day of my life!"

"Eh, it’s about time," Floyd drawled, stretching lazily. "Took ya long enough to figure out where the fun is." His sharp-toothed grin widened. "Now we can play my version of full-contact basketball. Hehehe."

"Absolutely not," Jamil cut in, but Floyd wasn’t listening.

"Don’t worry," Floyd said, throwing an arm around your shoulders like you’d been lifelong teammates. "If you survive the first practice, you’ll survive all the practices. Probably."

Ace jogged back over, breathless but triumphant. "I told you we’re the best club! No boring rules, no endless laps like in Deuce's lame track team, and best of all—" He struck a dramatic pose, arms wide. "You get to hang out with me every day!"

"Please don’t make them quit on the first week," Jamil muttered, giving you a look that seemed to say, Are you sure about this?

"Quit? Nahhh!" Ace grinned. "They’re gonna thrive here. I’ll even teach them my signature moves—like my no-look, backwards, mid-air layup."

"You can’t even do that," Jamil said flatly.

"Not yet," Ace shot back. "But it’s the thought that counts."

Floyd leaned in closer, his grin somehow growing wider. "You better keep up, shrimpy. Otherwise, I might have to… spice things up a little."

"Spice things up?" you echoed, immediately suspicious.

"He means doing things like replacing the basketballs with watermelons," Jamil deadpanned.

Ace snorted. "Or throwing the ball at the hoop so hard it breaks the backboard. Oh wait, that actually happened. Twice."

"It was fun," Floyd said, completely unrepentant.

Jamil sighed like a man who’d aged a decade in the last five minutes. But then, to your surprise, he turned to you and offered a small, genuine smile. "Still… I’m glad you’re here. Welcome to the team."

The words were simple, but coming from Jamil, they felt like a warm endorsement.

Ace clapped his hands together, clearly ready to move things along. "Alright, enough talking! Let’s get you on the court and see what you’ve got!"

"Or we could start slow," Jamil suggested, but Ace was already dragging you toward the center of the court, Floyd trailing behind with a basketball under one arm.

"Don’t worry," Floyd said, tossing the ball up and catching it effortlessly. "If ya mess up, we’ll just laugh at ya a little. No big deal~."

"No one’s laughing at anyone," Jamil said firmly, already pinching the bridge of his nose.

Ace threw an arm around your shoulder, grinning from ear to ear. "Ignore him. We’re gonna have a blast! First practice starts now!"

You weren’t sure what you’d gotten yourself into, but judging by their enthusiasm (and Floyd’s maniacal laughter), you were in for one chaotic ride.

Track and Field Club

The moment you declared your allegiance to the track and field club, Deuce’s face lit up like someone had just told him he passed his midterms.

“You’re… really joining?” he asked, like he needed double confirmation. When you nodded, his grin widened, the kind that made him look both relieved and excited. “That’s awesome! Uh—welcome to the team! Seriously, it’s great to have you.” His usual earnestness shone through, and he scratched the back of his neck. “I mean, I’m still kind of learning the ropes, but we can figure things out together. It’s gonna be great!”

Jack, standing beside him, gave a firm nod of approval. “Good call. Track and field’s a solid choice. You’ll fit right in.” His tail wagged just enough to betray how happy he was, even if his tone stayed calm.

"Yeah!" Deuce agreed. “And, uh, don’t worry about keeping up or anything. It’s all about improving at your own pace. Right, Jack?”

“Sure,” Jack replied, glancing at you. Then he added, almost casually, “We’ll work on your stamina. You’re gonna need it.”

It took you a second to catch the faint glint in his eye, and then you remembered—oh no, the fridge comment. Jack had been disturbed ever since.

Deuce, oblivious to the subtext, chimed in, “Yeah, Jack’s great at that stuff! He’s got this crazy endurance. Like, he can run forever. I’m still working on it, but, uh, you’re in good hands!”

Jack’s tail swished again. “Just be ready to push yourself. But don’t worry—we’ve got your back.”

“Exactly!” Deuce said, his fists clenching like he was ready to run a marathon right there. “This is gonna be awesome. I mean, not that it wasn’t already great, but now it’s even better. Right, Jack?”

Jack gave a small, satisfied smile. “Right.”

As they led you toward the field, you couldn’t help but wonder what you’d just signed up for. One thing was certain, though—Jack’s still thinking about that fridge, and he will make sure it’s not an issue anymore.

Board Game Club

The moment you declared your allegiance to the board game club, Azul adjusted his glasses, looking smugly pleased with himself, like he'd just negotiated the deal of the century.

"An excellent decision," he said, his voice as smooth as the perfectly polished board games stacked behind him. "With your addition to our club, I foresee a new golden age of strategic victories."

Idia, sitting half-hidden behind a pile of unopened game boxes, choked on his energy drink. "W-Wait, you’re serious? They actually chose us?" His hair flared a brilliant shade of pink for a moment before he pulled his hoodie tighter around himself. "Th-this isn’t some prank, right? Like, I’m not gonna look up and see them bolting out the door laughing, right?"

"Nope," you replied with a grin. "I’m all in."

Ortho, ever the enthusiastic hype man, zipped into the room with his jet thrusters. "Welcome to the club! Now we have a full party for dungeon raids. This is amazing!"

Azul cleared his throat, waving a hand. "Ahem, while cooperative RPGs are certainly an option, I believe we should start with a game of strategy and wit to introduce them properly. Perhaps a round of Chess of Betrayal?"

Idia groaned, sinking further into his hoodie. "Ugh, that game takes, like, three hours. If you’re gonna scare them away, at least wait until they’re too deep in to quit. Why don’t we start with something easy, like Goblin King Gauntlet?"

Ortho clapped his hands. "Ooh, I love that one! It has a random trap mechanic! Let’s play that!"

Azul raised an eyebrow, his smile shark-like. "Trap mechanics are hardly a proper welcome. It would be far better to demonstrate the finer nuances of strategy, wouldn’t you agree?"

Idia muttered something about Azul turning everything into a power play, but you interrupted before they could spiral into a full-blown debate. "Honestly, I’m fine with anything. Just deal me in."

Azul’s smirk widened. "Very well, then. I shall prepare the game board. And don’t worry, I’ll make certain you’re fully equipped for our upcoming campaigns. You’ll find we offer more than just fun—we offer victory."

Idia peeked out from his hoodie, a small, hopeful smile creeping onto his face. "You’re not bad at this whole club thing. Maybe this won’t be so terrible."

As they started setting up the game, you felt an unexpected warmth. Sure, it was just a board game club, but there was something endearing about their chaotic enthusiasm.

Though one thing was clear—Azul would probably try to sell you game tokens at some point, and Idia would absolutely try to teach you how to min-max your dice rolls.

But hey, you were ready for it.

Film Studies Club

When you announced your decision to join the film studies club, Vil paused mid-sip of his herbal tea, one elegantly arched eyebrow rising. For a moment, he looked like he was considering whether he had heard you correctly. Then, with a practiced air of nonchalance, he set the teacup down.

"Hm. Acceptable," he said coolly, though his tone betrayed a slight uptick of satisfaction. "It’s rare to find someone with enough taste to appreciate the art of cinema. I suppose your presence will be… useful."

But the slight curl of his lips gave him away.

He stood, brushing imaginary dust from his coat, and gave you an appraising look. "We have much to discuss. If you’re serious about this, you’ll need to commit entirely—no half-measures, no excuses. The camera is unforgiving, and I have no intention of allowing this club to falter under subpar contributions."

You opened your mouth to respond, but he was already pacing, gesturing dramatically like the star of an avant-garde production. "Lighting, blocking, composition—they are all integral to creating art, not merely entertainment. I trust you won’t embarrass yourself, or me, for that matter."

Despite his words, you caught the faintest hint of pride in his gaze as he turned to face you fully. "And, if for some reason, acting isn’t your strength, there are other roles. Cinematography, set design, editing… Perhaps backstage work would suit you, should you fail the audition."

He didn’t say it to be harsh; this was Vil’s version of encouragement. And as he continued outlining the club’s vision—"a modern renaissance in storytelling"—you realized he was genuinely excited to have you there, even if he’d rather gargle poison than openly admit it.

Finally, he stopped and gave you a small, approving nod. "Welcome to the film studies club. Don’t make me regret this."

Translation: I’m glad you’re here.

Science Club

The moment you announced your decision to join the science club, Rook’s eyes lit up like you’d just declared him the ruler of the universe.

"Ah, mon ami! What a magnifique choice!" he exclaimed, sweeping you into a theatrical bow so deep you thought he might topple over. "You possess the soul of an explorer, a true seeker of knowledge! Together, we shall unlock the mysteries of nature and celebrate its beauty in all its forms!"

"Uh… don’t scare them off, Rook," Trey interjected, though he was smiling. He adjusted his apron, clearly relieved that you hadn’t bolted under Rook’s enthusiastic greeting. "We’re glad to have you. Really. It’s nice to have someone else around who won’t accidentally set the lab on fire."

You raised an eyebrow. "That’s a low bar."

Trey shrugged. "You’d be surprised how many fail to meet it."

Before you could respond, Rook was already spinning grand plans. "Imagine the adventures we will have! Scaling mountains, crafting elixirs, nurturing delicate blossoms—ah, the poetry of science!" He clasped his hands to his chest, radiating so much joy that you were worried he’d break into song.

Trey, ever the grounded one, sighed fondly. "What he means is: we do a little bit of everything. Growing plants, chemistry experiments, cooking—you’ll fit right in. Assuming Rook doesn’t scare you off first."

Rook turned to Trey with an exaggerated gasp, as if the very suggestion of him being overwhelming was the greatest insult he’d ever received. "Chevalier des Roses, how could you wound me so?" He turned back to you with a theatrical flourish. "Fear not! I shall be your guide, your companion, your—"

"Assistant," Trey cut in, giving you a knowing look. "We'll assist you. Don’t let him take over your projects."

You grinned, feeling oddly at home already. Between Rook’s boundless enthusiasm and Trey’s steadying presence, you realized the science club might just be the perfect balance of chaos and calm.

Pop Music Club

When you announced your decision to join the Pop Music Club, Lilia was the first to react. He shot up from his chair with a dramatic flourish, his cape—where did the cape come from?—billowing as if on cue.

"Ah, an excellent choice! Welcome to the most electrifying club in the entire school!" Lilia declared, his voice reverberating like an arena announcer. He played an imaginary riff on an air guitar, complete with sound effects that you were almost certain were magically amplified.

Kalim clapped his hands, beaming as brightly as the sun. "This is going to be so much fun! We can sing duets, make up dances, throw a party for every new song we write—oh! We should have a welcome party for you right now!" He was already halfway to grabbing balloons out of thin air before Cater stopped him.

"Easy there, Kalim," Cater said with a laugh, pulling out his phone to snap a picture. "We haven’t even started jamming yet! Gotta document this first—‘New Member Alert 🚨🎶! Welcome to the coolest club at NRC!’” He posed next to you, flipping through filters. "Ooh, should we do a pastel vibe or go all-out neon?"

"Why not both?" Lilia suggested, somehow holding a tambourine he hadn’t been holding two seconds ago. He shook it with gusto, the jingles creating an impromptu beat.

Kalim joined in instantly, dancing around the room with energy that could probably power a small city. "This is going to be amazing! Do you play any instruments? Can you sing? Or maybe you’ll write the songs? Wait, can you do all three?!"

Before you could answer, Lilia leaned in with a conspiratorial grin. "Don’t worry, even if you’re terrible, I can teach you. After all, I’ve had centuries of experience."

"Centuries of experience at what exactly?" you asked, though you weren’t entirely sure you wanted the answer.

"Everything," Lilia replied cryptically, shaking the tambourine once more for emphasis.

Cater gave you a wink. "Don’t let him intimidate you. He’s mostly harmless. Mostly."

As the chaos swirled around you, you realized joining the Pop Music Club was probably going to be as much about managing everyone’s energy as it was about making music.

But looking at their genuine excitement, you couldn’t help but feel you’d made the right choice. It was going to be loud, unpredictable, and—most importantly—a lot of fun.

Equestrian Club

When you chose the Equestrian Club, Riddle’s reaction was immediate and deeply Riddle. He straightened his posture, cleared his throat, and gave you a small but dignified nod, though his ears turned the faintest shade of pink.

“A wise decision,” he said primly, but his voice wavered just enough to give away his excitement. “The Equestrian Club values discipline and care, and I trust you will uphold those values. Welcome.” He paused, then added with uncharacteristic softness, “I’m glad you chose us.”

Sebek, on the other hand, reacted with his usual intensity, which was to say, very loudly.

“AS EXPECTED OF SOMEONE WITH DISCERNING TASTE!” Sebek bellowed, saluting for no discernible reason. “THE EQUESTRIAN CLUB IS A PLACE OF HONOR AND DILIGENCE. YOU HAVE MADE THE RIGHT CHOICE, AND I, SEBEK ZIGVOLT, SHALL PERSONALLY ENSURE YOU MEET OUR HIGH STANDARDS!”

“You’re going to scare the horses,” Silver muttered, patting a dozing mare who didn’t even flinch at Sebek’s volume. Clearly, she’d built up an immunity.

Silver turned to you with a sleepy but genuine smile. “Welcome. It’ll be nice having another person around who actually seems calm. I’ll show you the best places to ride, and we’ll make sure you’re comfortable with the horses.”

“And with the rules,” Riddle interjected, already retrieving a stack of laminated pages. “Equestrian care is not something to take lightly. You’ll need to memorize these guidelines to ensure both your safety and that of the horses.”

Sebek leaned over your shoulder to inspect the stack and immediately saluted again. “AN EXCELLENT INITIATIVE, HOUSEWARDEN ROSEHEARTS! I, TOO, WILL MEMORIZE THESE IN CASE THEY EVER REQUIRE REINFORCEMENT!”

“I think they’re fine,” Silver said. “We don’t need to make this harder than it needs to be.”

Riddle frowned. “Standards exist for a reason, Silver. Though I appreciate your enthusiasm, perhaps we can—Sebek, stop shouting—perhaps we can go over the basics first before overwhelming them.”

As Riddle and Sebek debated, Silver handed you a carrot to feed one of the horses. “Don’t worry,” he said, as the horse happily munched away. “It’s not as intense as it seems. Usually.”

You glanced at the stack of rules in Riddle’s hand and the fervent look in Sebek’s eyes. It was definitely going to be an adjustment. But seeing how genuinely happy they all were to have you—yes, even Sebek—you felt like this would be worth it.

Magift Club

When you announced your decision to join the Magift Club as their manager, the reaction was instantaneous and… surprisingly chaotic.

Ruggie let out a whoop, immediately dropping to the floor in a mock bow. "Ayo, everyone, bow to the boss! Finally, someone who can keep this circus in line!"

Leona, lounging on the sidelines, cracked open an eye and smirked. “’Bout time. Herbivores usually flake out, but I knew you were better than the rest.” He stretched lazily, like he’d personally orchestrated your decision. “Just keep the snacks coming, and we’ll get along fine.”

Epel looked between them and grinned, his enthusiasm much more grounded. “It’s great to have ya! With you around, maybe Leona will actually show up to warmups... or not just sleep through it.” He shot a pointed glance at their captain, who was, of course, ignoring him entirely.

“Eh,” Leona drawled, flicking his tail dismissively.

“You could work on that attitude,” you muttered, earning a low chuckle from him.

“See, I told you they’d fit right in!” Ruggie said, gesturing at you dramatically. “They’re already roasting him. This is gonna be great!”

Epel, suddenly inspired, added, “And they’ll keep Ruggie from stealing the fresh apple juice we get after games. That’s worth it alone.”

As the reality of your new role settled in, you felt a bit like a lion tamer walking into a den of mischievous cubs and one very lazy big cat. But their enthusiasm—expressed in their own peculiar ways—was endearing.

Ruggie threw an arm around your shoulder. “Alright, boss, first order of business: snacks! Let’s discuss our game day budget and whether I can convince you to sneak me a sandwich before practice.”

Leona snorted but didn’t argue, which you took as a sign of approval. Epel pumped his fist. “We’re gonna crush it this year!”

Maybe managing this bunch wouldn’t be so bad after all. If nothing else, it’d definitely be entertaining.

Mountain Lovers Club

When you joined Jade for a hike to "test the waters" of the Mountain Lovers Club, you had your doubts. You were prepared for a lot of things—maybe getting lost in the wilderness, maybe Jade pulling out his eerie cryptid knowledge, or maybe just a weirdly formal lecture about moss. What you weren’t prepared for was… actually enjoying yourself.

Jade led the way with an unhurried confidence, pointing out various wild plants, their uses, and fun facts about the environment. He wasn’t his usual enigmatic self, either. He seemed lighter, almost enthusiastic, as he described a tiny wildflower you would’ve missed entirely.

“This particular species only blooms during the autumn months,” he said, crouching to show you. “Quite fascinating how it adapts to the cooler temperatures, don’t you think?”

You nodded, trying not to stare too hard at how his face lit up when he spoke. Jade was… cute? When he wasn’t talking about mushrooms in a way that made you question your mortality, he was actually kind of charming.

By the time you reached a rocky outcrop with a gorgeous view of the campus, you realized you’d been smiling for most of the hike. Jade noticed too.

“It seems I’ve made a decent impression,” he said, turning toward you with a soft grin. “I’m pleased to see you enjoying yourself.”

“It’s… relaxing,” you admitted, surprising even yourself. “I didn’t think it’d be this fun.”

Jade tilted his head. “Does that mean you’d consider joining the Mountain Lovers Club?”

You hesitated for a moment, but as you looked at the breathtaking view and the rare, genuine smile on his face, the answer came easily. “Yeah. I’ll join.”

For a split second, Jade’s eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly schooled his expression into his usual composed smile. “Wonderful. I must say, I wasn’t expecting this outcome, but I’m glad. It’s not every day someone sees the beauty in what I love.”

There was an odd warmth in his voice that made your heart skip a beat. As he turned to lead the way back, he added, “Now that we’re a team, I look forward to our next adventure.”

Jade Leech was genuinely happy. And, you realized, so were you.

Gargoyle Research Society

When you told Malleus you were joining the Gargoyle Research Society, his reaction was almost imperceptible at first. A slight widening of his eyes, a pause as though he was waiting to see if you were serious, and then—pure, unfiltered delight.

"You have an interest in gargoyles?" he asked, his voice both surprised and reverent, as if you'd just confessed to enjoying a rare and ancient art form.

You nodded. "Yeah. I think they're fascinating. The designs, the history… They’re like stone guardians with stories etched into them."

For a moment, Malleus simply looked at you, his emerald eyes shimmering like the light of distant stars. Then, as if unable to contain his joy, he smiled—a soft, genuine expression that sent a wave of warmth through the chilly Ramshackle evening.

"This pleases me greatly," he said, his tone unusually light. “Not many share my appreciation for gargoyles. Often, I speak of them, and others… how do I put it? Pretend to listen.”

“Well, I’m definitely not pretending,” you said, grinning. “I’m in for real.”

Malleus clasped his hands together in what could only be described as regal excitement. "Then I must share something with you. Sometimes, I create gargoyles myself."

“You what?” you asked, laughing in delight.

“Yes,” he replied earnestly, his eyes alight. “Carving stone requires patience, but there is a certain satisfaction in breathing life into something lifeless. Well, not literal life, of course, but a soul of sorts.”

You couldn’t help but laugh again, the image of Malleus with a chisel and hammer popping into your head. “I never would have guessed. That’s… really cool.”

“I can show you some of my creations, if you’d like,” he offered, almost shyly.

“I’d love that,” you said, genuinely glad to have joined him. “I think I’m going to enjoy this club.”

The glow in his expression was impossible to miss. It wasn’t just that you had joined his club—it was that, for once, someone truly shared his passion. “And I am glad to have you,” he said softly.

In that moment, under the watchful eyes of the stone guardians scattered around campus, it felt like you had chosen exactly the right place.

Masterlist

tags: @techno-danger

a/n: it completely slipped my mind that ortho is a part of film studies sorry :(

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