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ickaimp · 6 years ago

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Five times Jack and Bunny weren’t dating (Much to the confusion of Everyone Else)

2041 words, ace

====

"Come on, Sugar." The Groundhog leaned against Aster, grinding her hip against his. "One little date couldn't hurt, could it?"

"Yeah.... Well, y'see..." Aster tried to find some graceful way to get her away from him, without resorting to the violence that he would momentarily enjoy but regret later. A sudden drop in temperature behind him provided inspiration. "I can't because m'datin' Jack Frost!"

"What?!"

"What?!" Echoed Jack's irritated voice from behind him. Aster glanced over his shoulder, meeting Jack's annoyed gaze, then made a slight motion with his head towards the Groundhog.

Jack's tense angry posture melted as understanding flickered across his face, followed by merriment. "You called, Snugglebunny?" Jack asked, sickly-sweet as he twined one arm around Aster's.

Oh, thank goodness. Aster plastered on a grin and shifted closer to Jack. "Have y'met Phyllis? The Groundhog?" He asked, motioning to Phyllis.

"Can't say that I have." Jack said, tone frosty as he eyed her proximity to Aster.

He'd hoped that Phyllis would take the clue and back off, but she narrowed her eyes, glaring at Jack as if he were the interloper. "I've heard much about you." Phyllis purred, holding a hand out.

Jack smiled politely back, releasing Aster to take her hand and shaking it. "Pleasure."

"Oh!" Phyllis exclaimed, not releasing Jack's hand. "What smooth skin you have. No fur at all. How strange that must be." She said, fluffing up the hair on her round cheeks with her other hand.

The ambient temperature dropped as Jack smiled. It wasn't a pleasant expression. "It does make it easier to groom." He said, ice forming along his hand. Phyllis squeaked, finally releasing Jack.

For a moment, Jack and Phyllis stared at each other, faces smiling as they spat at each other with their eyes. Aster began to double think this plan, wondering if he had just put himself in the middle of a cat-fight, with himself as the prize.

He backed up a step, wrapping his arm around Jack. He knew who he was throwing his support behind.

Phyllis paused, then inclined her head. "I think I hear someone calling my name. Excuse me." She said, stomping away with her head held high.

Aster watched her go, trying not to cringe at the comments under her breath about what beautiful babies they would have made. Jack shifted closer to him, giving Aster's arm a squeeze "You okay?" Jack asked quietly.

"Yeah." Aster wrapped an arm around Jack, resting his chin on Jack's head. "Thanks." He wanted to leave and go take a bath, roll around on the grass until her scent and the memory of her touch left him. She didn’t smell right at all, too much like this alien planet and not enough like a Pooka to put the thoughts she was insinuating in his head.

Jack smelled familiar, hints of the Warren and North's Workshop clinging to him, and it helped ground Aster. He nuzzled the white hair, messing it up, and making Jack laugh.

"Anytime." Jack's voice was warm, as he hugged Aster back. He chuckled, only slightly strained. "Got me away from my own admirers." He muttered, clearly uncomfortable.

"Sounds like we need a battleplan." Aster smirked, his good humour resuming at having something he could do. "I'll watch yer back-"

"I got yours." Jack promised, voice rich and amused, giving Aster a squeeze before backing up half a step. Aster let him go, smiling back at Jack's grin, wide and joyful. Jack inclined his head. "C'mon. I heard a rumour that there's refreshments around here, Hunny-Bunny."

"I see how it's gonna be." Aster smirked, allowing Jack to pull him towards the far wall where the snacks were. "-Snow White."

"Ooh!" Jack shot him an evil grin. "It's on now!"

Aster laughed, ignoring the looks they were getting. There were far worse things than hanging out with Jack Frost.

++++

"Twinkle-Toes."

"Buggy-Bunny."

"Pumpkin."

"No. Snuggle-Bug."

"Nipper?"

"Doodle-Bun."

"Snowflake."

"Funny-Bunny."

"Ice-"

"I can't take it anymore!" Tooth exploded, waving her arms. "Could PLEASE take your flirting somewhere else?! It's really distracting!"

Several of her fairies chirped in agreement.

Jack and Aster blinked, staring at her. Tooth blushed.

"Sorry." She muttered.

"Right." Jack nodded. "Sorry... I guess it's our bad-?" He offered, glancing at Aster for affirmation.

Aster shrugged back. He was kind of confused on how coming up with insulting nicknames could be considered 'flirting'.

+++

"Bunny, catch." Jack said, holding up a radish from across the table. Without thinking about it, Aster opened his mouth, Jack tossing it across the table, Aster snatching it out of mid-air with his teeth.

"Yes!" Jack cheered, a wide grin on his face as he tossed his arms up into the air.

Aster snorted in amusement. It took so little to keep Jack happy. Speaking of which... Aster plucked a cherry tomato off his plate and flicked it at Jack.

"Got it!" Jack leaned back, catching it in his mouth, biting down into the red vegetable with great relish. Jack still wasn't used to having a chance to try the plants that grew in the summer, finding them to be a still-rare treat. Aster made sure to slip him the best ones to try whenever he got a chance.

They flung bits and pieces of the food going around at each other, grabbing each other's favourite foods as they passed their sides of the table, tossing them back and forth with the ease of many shared meals together. Jack pulled the beets out of his salad and set them aside, sliding them across the table to Aster to eat. Aster did the same with the baby corn, he didn't like their texture much.

Phil cleared his throat, making a confused noise. Jack and Aster glanced around, discovering that they were the centre of attention.

"What?" Jack asked, grabbing a croissant for himself and tossing Aster a pumpernickel roll.

"Nothing." North said. He pointedly cleared his throat, glancing at the other Guardians and the gathered Yeti and Elves, who turn their attention back the massive amount of food in front of them.

Jack shot Aster a confused look. So they were used to sharing meals. So what?

Aster shrugged back. People were strange.

+++

The funny thing about Jack was that when he got tired, he got all loose limbed and cuddly, like a tiny kitten. Anyone would do, but Aster was Jack's preferred person to lean against and doze against.

It was annoying if Aster was in the middle of working on something, but when he was reading, or attempting to relax, it was kind of nice to have Jack snuggled against him. Usually this meant that at some point, Jack would go boneless and using Aster's lap as a pillow, his head at just the right place for Aster to run his fingers through Jack's cold hair.

It was soothing, calming to a instinctual part of his brain that had been screaming for centuries. That he was fulfilling his obligations, taking care of his Clan, providing for the youngster, helping him grow big and strong.

Never mind that logically, Jack would never age. And that they were different species, different Clans entirely.

It still pleasing to have the company, to feel another's heartbeat so close to his, even it was alien.

Sandy appeared, waving cheerfully and Aster motioned for quiet. Sandy floated closer, looking confused, then his golden eyes widened, an exclamation point appearing above his head.

With an apologetic wave, Sandy quickly left, going back the way he came.

Aster watched him go, then glanced down at Jack, who was sleeping face-down on his lap.

The heck-?

+++

“Ah-hem.” Tooth cleared her throat, pointing upwards with a mischievous little look. Aster looked up to find a sprig of mistletoe sprouting from one of the layers of the Tooth Palace.

Which just happened to be right above Jack and Aster’s heads. One he was pretty sure he hadn’t seen there when they arrived to visit Tooth and her girls.

Aster glanced down at Jack, raising one eyebrow in question. Jack smirked back, looking amused as he stood up on his tip toes and kissed the top of Aster’s nose, where it was covered in short fur. It was kind of an odd chill sensation, but not bad.

Jack rocked back on his heels, giving Aster a wide grin. Aster frowned. “Did you just nip my nose?” He demanded, trying not to laugh. Although there certainly hadn’t been any teeth involved.

“Maybe.” Jack sing-sang, looking proud of himself.

The laugh Aster had been trying to hide came out as an amused huff, and he leaned down to return the favour, pressing his lips against Jack’s nose with a loud comical ‘mwah!’.

He got wide eyed stare for a brief second, as if Jack couldn’t believe that Aster had just done that that, then started laughing, little snowflakes forming around him in joy, and disappearing just as quickly in the warm air.

“Reckon we need to do that more often.” Aster mused, swinging an arm around Jack’s shoulders, and pulling him close. Jack nodded as he leaned against Aster, wrapping an arm around Aster’s waist. Kissing wasn’t something Pooka did, but he could see himself growing to like it.

He wondered how Jack felt about forehead kisses.

“Sounds good to me.” Jack agreed, grinning happily. “Now, what can we help you out with, Tooth?”

Tooth was giving them a strange look, like they’d done something unexpected. She gave herself a small shake, then smiled. “Oh! Right this way.” She escorted them towards a different part of her Palace to work on some murals.

Aster shared a glance at Jack, who shrugged back, wondering what she’d expected them to do instead.

+++

"Bunny." North said, shifting his weight awkwardly. "I wish to speak with you. About Jack."

Aster's ears twitched, automatically trying to sense where the boy was. Playing with the wind outside of the Workshop most likely. "He alright?"

"Jack is fine." North waved it off. "But you. This has been going on for many decades now. When are you going to make your intentions known?"

Aster stared blankly at North. "Intentions?"

"Wedding!" North threw his hands in the air.

... Huh?

"You have been dating for long while!" North gestured, sounding like an old Mother Hen. "Is it not time to tie the knot?"

"No?" Aster ventured. Why would they get married anyway?

"Then you have been leading Jack on?" North asked, a dangerous growl entering his voice.

"No." Aster shook his head. "And he's fine with things the way they are." Or at least, he'd never made any comment.

North made an annoyed grunt, crossing his arms. Aster raised an eyebrow. "Y'can ask him yerself."

"I will." North agreed. "He will be here any-"

"Hey, guys!" Jack cheerfully announced, touching down between them, covered more than usual with a layer of ice over his clothing. Jack paused, glancing between the two of them with a wary expression. "What's going on?"

"North wants to know when we're gonna get hitched." Aster waved a hand at North, who nodded, looking resolute.

Jack looked between them, as if waiting for the punchline. "Why would we do that?" He asked, no panic or fear in his voice, just flat out confusion.

Aster shrugged.

"You are dating!" North's eyes were wide.

Jack shook his head. "No, we're not."

"But the pet names! The food! The snuggling!"

"We're friends-?" Jack drawled. "Who live in close proximity to each other?"

Practically in each other's laps, some months.

"Bah." North threw his hands in the air. "Hopeless!" He announced, then stormed off.

Jack leaned against his staff. "Was that weird to you? Cause that was weird to me."

"It's North." Aster shrugged, as if that explained everything.

Jack considered his words for a moment, then nodded in agreement, shifting his weight to lean against Aster instead. Aster put a commiserating arm around Jack’s shoulders, ignoring the looks the yeti gave them.

Really, people were so strange sometimes.

-fin-

#rise of the guardians #rotg #e. aster bunnymund #jack frost #jackrabbit #frostbunny #jackrabbitweek #icka fic

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daemyiel · 5 years ago

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Seaside Rendezvous

A/N: this is a one shot and has nothing to do with the series I've started.

WARNING: ONE SWEAR WORD

But that's it so enjoy

Taglist:@hersked

Roger was sat in the flat he shared with Freddie alone. It was one of the rare occasions he had some spare time. He sat sideways in the arm chair, feet hanging off the edge almost kicking the mug over on the coffee table that previously held his coffee, and a music magazine folded so he could hold it in one hand, while the other played with a lock of his blonde hair. His eyes had begun to hurt a bit so he had started wearing his glasses, he hated them but he was alone so there was no one to be embarrassed in front of. He had been in this position of a couple of hours and he could feel his feet growing numb, and his legs being to cramp.

Suddenly, Freddie burst through the door and waltzed into the living room. Roger snatched the glasses from his face and tried to hide them before Freddie realised. “Don’t even bother hiding them, I saw you wearing them.” Freddie said with a smirk, watching the drummer pointlessly trying to wedge the glasses between the arm chair and his leg. “you’ve got to come with me anyway.”

“What? Where?” Roger huffed. He was planning on lazing about for the rest of the day, between school, work and the band he hadn’t had much time to relax.

“The Nags Head, band meeting.” Freddie answered, turning around rest to leave, expecting Roger to follow.

“No, Freddie. Today is my day off. From everything. I don’t want to go to the pub.” Roger whined remaining seated.

“Oh, come on!” Freddie grabbed Roger’s wrist and pulled him off the armchair. “Brian said you’d be happy with whatever it is he has to say.” Freddie continued to pull Roger out the door and towards the pub.

Brian And John was already at The Nags Head with a round in when Freddie arrived, dragging their drummer behind him.

“Brian this better be important.” Roger moaned as he slid into the booth next to Deaky and opposite Freddie, who was sat next to Brian.

“we’ve had an offer to play next weekend, twenty quid each, per night.” Brian started.

“What? Where?” Freddie repeated the drummer from earlier, but his words were full of excitement.

“Norfolk.” Brian replied, watching Roger’s reaction. The drummers pout faded and his eyes grew wide.

“Where in Norfolk?” Roger asked with urgency.

“Kings Lynn.” Brian smiled back.

A wide smile grew on the blondes face “Really?” Brian nodded in response.

“Yes!” Roger shouted in excitement, earning a few funny looks from a few other people in the pub.

“I don’t get it what’s so great about Kings Lynn?” John asked, confusion all over his face.

“”Its where Roger grew up.” Brian answered.

“I thought you said you were from Cornwall.” John was now even more confused.

“I am, we moved from Kings Lynn when I was seven, but when we can we go back to visit family. God I haven’t been in so long. In taking you all to the best places. We’re going a little bit earlier, and I’m driving.” Roger was so happy the other three could see how much this meant to him.

Roger was in a really happy mood considering how early in the morning it was. It was a long drive from London to Kings Lynn and Roger wanted to get there with most of the day still ahead of them. They had, slept, ate and stopped for the occasional toilet brake. But finally they got there. They checked into a hotel with John and Freddie in one room and Brian and Roger in another to save money. As soon as they dragged their luggage into their rooms and just started to settle Roger was up and ready to go, wanting to take the boys all around the town.

The first thing the band did was stop for breakfast since none of them had anything proper to eat apart from the few biscuits shared between them on the drive up. “So what exactly are we doing, Roger?” Brian asked taking a sip from his tea.

“Well a walk around town, which won’t take all day, and then maybe a surprise after.” Roger mumbled the last part, which caught the full attention of the rest of the band.

“What are we doing Roger? Oh tell me please, you know I don’t like surprises.” Freddie pleaded.

“No, you do like surprises, just when you don’t know about them. You just don’t like not knowing, especially something like this.” Roger smirked taking a sip of his coffee.

After breakfast Roger and Freddie took the lead going into almost every shop and looking at anything and everything. They didn’t buy much but Freddie found a nice black and white shirt that he insisted on wearing for the show.

The town of Kings Lynn was small in comparison to London but Roger remembered walking along these streets with his mum dragging him around while he whined about not wanting to go shopping.

It was just past one o'clock when they started walking back to Roger’s old van having already walked all around the town. The hot July sun was nearly at it’s hottest, and Brian, John and Freddie was starting to moan about it.

“Shut up.” Roger told them, growing tired of their childishness, “you're getting your surprise soon anyway.” This ceased their complaining and made Freddie walk a little bit faster to the van.

Hunstanton, the place that Roger was taking the rest of the band wasn’t far at all, but with the boys constantly asking where they were going it felt like forever. They it stopped when Roger drove into the car park, and they saw the beach.

“we're at the beach!” Freddie smiled.

“I haven’t been to one for ages.” Deaky smiled too.

“I haven’t got my swimming trunks.” Brain said sadly.

“neither have I.” Deaky’s smiled turned into a slight frown.

“Roger, you could have told us to buy some while we were at the shop.” Freddie lightly smacked Roger’s arm.

“sorry, I didn’t think. Well we probably won’t have much time for the sea, I want to show you guys the pier ” Roger then jumped out the van and the others followed.

Roger started walking right out the car park, then stopped when he realised the rest didn’t follow. “To get the beach is that way.” Brian said pointing straight ahead.

“Yeah, I know, but the arcade is this way.” Roger pointed in the direction he was going and continued that way, this time the boys followed.

The arcade was illuminated by the bright light of the machines, the majority of them being Penney pushers. They boys changed a few pounds up into 2 pence pieces and had the time of their lives, running around trying to win prizes. Roger managed to knock two keyrings off in one. Brian and John also won one each, but Freddie ran out of money before he could knock on off the ledge. “Here.” Roger said as he tossed one of his prizes to a pouting Freddie. For the rest of the day Freddie fiddled with the keyring that had a small turtle attached to it. Roger immediately put his on the keys to the van.

After the arcade Roger took them to the fair opposite the beach. They went on everything they could, even though four men in their twenties running around like kids earned a few strange looks from the public, they didn’t care and neither did the ride attendants, they were nice to them. Deaky even managed to win a stuffed toy of one of the games.

After the fair they were all getting hungry, so Roger lead them to a small fish and chip shop, that he claimed was the best north of London. Although Deaky argued that there was a really good one in Nottingham. They ordered two large portions of chips two battered sausages for Roger and John, a fishcake for Freddie, and a pot of mushy peas for Brian. Roger and John had a ton of salt and vinegar on their chips, while Freddie and Brian had a pot of gravy and a pot of curry sauce.

After they had ate they took their shoes off and walked on the beach for a bit. They wasn’t planning in going in the water but Roger chased Freddie in. They only went deep enough so that they wouldn’t get their shorts wet. However, Freddie’s was shorter then Roger’s so Roger couldn’t go in deep enough to get Freddie. But while Freddie was teasing Roger a slightly bigger wave ripped through the sea and splashed half way up Freddie’s shorts. He stood, frozen in his spot as Roger nearly pissed himself laughing. After that they walked back towards the other two and let the water go up to their ankles.

The temperature was slowly dropping and the beach was emptying out so the boys decided they better start heading back. They started walking when Roger stopped in front of a kiosk selling all sorts of sea food. The boys didn’t realise until he jogged up to them holding a big crab with an even bigger smile on his face. Freddie looked at him wondering why Roger was so happy with the crab. “crab meat is so good.” Roger explained. “c'mon Fred, it’s not like you’ve never ate a crab stick before.”

They were getting close to the car park when Roger dragged them into one final shop. It was a lovely little sweet shop had shelves upon shelves of brightly coloured, sugary sweets. Roger bought them all stick-o-rocks. Freddie was fascinated by them having never tried one before. Then Brian noticed an ice cream counter with about ten different flavours, each a bright colour and treated the boys to some.

They ate the ice cream whilst walking to the van, Roger devouring his quickly so that he could drive. Once everyone finished they were already on the road. Freddie couldn’t wait to taste his stick-o-rock and started handing them all out. Roger also didn’t want to wait for his so he ask Freddie to unwrap it and held it in his left hand, every time he had to change gear he would leave it hanging out of his mouth.

When they got back to the hotel they all ended up half asleep in Roger and Brian’s room. Talking about anything and everything until John and Freddie retired to their room.

Roger lay in bed with a small smile on his face. He had a great day with his favourite people, in his favourite place. He was happy.

#fanfiction #queen fanfiction #brian may fanfiction #brian may fluff #brian may #roger taylor fluff #roger taylor fanfic #roger taylor #freddie mercury #freddie mercury fanfic #john deacon fluff #john deacon fanfic #john deacon #deaky #borhap #bohemian rhapsody

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caliart · 6 years ago

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[Written and drawn for @nakiriknife for @thearrowheadnet DickRoy Secret Valentine Exchange - Happy Valentine’s Day, friend! I hope you enjoyed!]

He often has this glint in his eye.

Sometimes it’s obvious, like when he’s about to really lay into someone for a cheesy one-liner, or just had another gut instinct idea that he knows for sure is insane enough to actually work. But then there are times where that glint is much, much more subtle, like the exact moment when the fletching of an arrow slips through his fingertips, in time with the beat of his heart and the slightest intake of breath, or those times where his sincerity bleeds out on to his sleeve in ways that can leave a man speechless.

A little smirk, a tiny flash of mischief. That telling glint in his eye.

I see it every single time. And how could I not? It’s one of his major tells. One of the subtle changes that gives away his position, his intentions. A disadvantage, if you know how to read him. Lucky for him, most don’t.

Unlucky for him, I do.

It’s quiet in this part of the city, an oddly calming hush that only settles upon certain neighborhoods at the earliest hours of the morning. A time when the whole world feels black and still, humming a haunting lullaby from the depths to the heights that only insomniacs, late night criminals and vigilantes like us can hear. From my higher vantage point, despite the cloak of shadows he’s trying to mask himself in, I can see Arsenal clearly across the street, his steps sure footed and light, careful not to kick a stray stone or startle a nearby rat in search of its next meal, more so not to attract my attention. His arrow is nocked in place, the bowstring pulled slightly, but not taut enough for a full shot. He doesn’t have a target yet.

And yet, I’m so close. C'mon, Roy, you know I’m here.

He’s being cautious, I can tell. Keen ears listening for anything out of the ordinary. Sharp eyes searching for the slightest shift of motion. He’s patient in only the way an archer can be. He’s waiting. Hunting. I take a risk and grasp for a weapon of my own, holding my breath as my position shifts just a little bit. But he knows. He hears it. The bowstring is tight, aimed to shoot directly towards me, but he doesn’t let it fly. Not yet. He’s not sure. It reads all over his face, close enough now for me to note every twitch of brow, short rise of breath in his chest, the slight shift of his eyes.

He still doesn’t see me. The game continues. Not for much longer.

Arsenal’s hesitation to release at that precise moment opens up my advantage. I toss a sharp-edged wing-ding towards the left, enough of a twist on the throw for the blade to curve midair back towards my target. The direction of the arrow’s point shifts towards the impending attack, and I see that tell-tale glint shimmer in his eyes the way it always does, that he was just about to take the shot, no fear, no reluctance. A second blade springs from my own hand, just before the twitch of his fingers that I know is about to occur to allow his arrow to fly true, and strikes against Roy’s splayed knuckles.

“SHHHH—OWWCH!!”

The silence of the twilight hours in the city is immediately shattered with that shout, followed by the clanging of our thrown weapons against one another and then again as they land on the street, the clanking of his bow to the ground, and the thud of my feet as I land beside my friend. He glares up at me with a grimace, teeth gritted, bright crimson flooded over his fingers. I’m not sure if that face is one of pain, or of him just being upset that he lost. “You okay?” I ask as I approach my friend, shrugging my shoulders in apology.

He grumbles, nursing his injured hand, instinctively lapping his lips and tongue over the wound in a quick attempt to clean it. “You know, when you said ‘to the blood’ I didn’t think you actually meant literally, Nightwing. Damn, you got me friggin’ deep, man.”

I roll my eyes and take his crimson stained hand into both of my own to better inspect it. “You’ll live,” I snap back, glancing up just in time to once again spot that glint of mischief fluttering just behind light lashes, like sunrise at Gotham harbor in both eyes.

“That’s all you have to say? After wounding me so?” Roy laments, his tone taking a turn for the overdramatic as he lays the back of his other hand over his forehead.

My eyebrow raises in deadpan disbelief before rolling my eyes again. “It’s not so bad, Roy. Only thing that’s actually wounded is your pride.” I give him a smug grin. “Because you know you lost the game.”

He turns his nose up in a huff. “Which means you still wounded me.” I’m pretty sure he’s still being facetious, mostly because he can’t hide his near-cackling grin under this “betrayed” facade he was trying to pull to make me feel guilty. He knows me well enough to succeed if he were actually upset. “You could have ruined my archery and crimefighting career for life in one fell swoop, you know,” he continues mock carrying on. “These hands are my life, my livelihood, and here you are, flinging your wingding things all over the place, all so you would win a dumb game. I mean, look at all this blood! How’re you gonna make this better, huh? I hope you plan to make it better.”

Better, huh? Yeah, I can make it better. Without realizing it, my snark suddenly got the better of me, and I replied by raising my best friend’s injured fingers to my lips and laying a long kiss upon them, the ruddy scent of copper and salt mingling with the faded musk of his sweat filling my nose. I close my eyes, taking in the warmth of his hand and steadying the shivering in my own, my heart pulsing in my throat. I chance a glance up at Roy, not pulling away just yet and the glint in his eye is gone, replaced with shock and utter bewilderment of what was happening. I swear, I had never before seen this man turn the same shade as his hair, and it was glorious.

Finally, I pull away, still with his hand in mine, and smile at him. “How’s that?”

“…better,” he blurts out, dumbfounded, unsure what to even do or say after that.

“Good to hear,” I quickly lay another, quick kiss on the back of his hand. “I win again.”

Roy’s eyes widen again and he stumbles over his words, stammering a little as he tries in vain to regain his composure. “Okay, maybe this time. But you still…I dunno, owe me a coffee or something.”

“Oh do I now?” I smirk, tightening my grip around his calloused fingers and he glances away nervously, seeing the glint in my eyes that I’ve stolen from him. “How about I patch this up, and then you buy me a coffee as my prize for tonight? Sound fair?”

“I guess…you gonna give me my hand back?”

“Do you want me to?”

“No.” His face turns an even brighter shade of scarlet, his mouth answering faster than his brain could filter, and immediately tries to back pedal. “I mean…you don’t have to. I don’t, you know, mind…”

I can feel the hot flush across my nose, but ignore it, instead squeezing Roy Harper’s hand in my own, admiring the new glint in my dear friend’s eye that I hadn’t seen or noticed before. “Then I suppose I’ll hold onto this.”

#dick grayson #roy harper #dickroy #roydick #valentines day

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moodybunnyxd · 6 years ago

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Twisted Mind || Yandere!Taehyung x Reader ||

[ Taehyung x Reader ] || One-shot ||

Yandere AU!

Description: No one could be as heinous as him. He was the replica of Satan himself. He sees violence as his weapon, enemies as his barrier and you as his prize. Things work differently from his perspective, for he has a twisted mind.

A/N: Helloooo! This is my first time to write here on Tumblr! And as you can see, I picked a yandere theme for a start! ^^ Yandere themes are one of my favorite genre of story xD And ooooh, look who I chose for the role~ Interested? I see. Then what are you waiting for? You can read the story now! Oh, and, thank you for reading in advance! I hope you’ll like it!

Word Count: 7,299 words.

"I am Kim Taehyung."

Wha--...What...?

Your heart strated beating faster as panic swirls in you. Hands turning cold the moment those four words reached your ears, you loosen your tight grip on the gun; making it fall to the ground. Your breathing became uneven as your brain processed everything.

"I don't--...I don't understand everything..."

His footsteps started getting near while you on the other hand, backed away in fear. You were shaking and that thought alone made you sick inside. It made you furious that he can visibly see you fearing his presence.

"Oh darling, you don't have to understand anything..."

Sharp intake of breaths and his footsteps were the only sound that resonated through the dark alley; in which the place where he dragged you against your will. As he came closer with only few feet away from you, tears brimmed in your eyes and fear was eating you up. You were hyperventilating, hands shaking terribly as they made their way to cover your ears. You want to hear nothing but complete silence, not even the steps of the monster that was after you. Your eyes were closed tightly, tears spilling from them, then came streaming down your cheek.

It was him. It was him all along! The one that caused nightmares, the one that sent terrors to the deaths of each and every innocent person that he laid his eyes on; mistaking them for being his prey, for being his rival that has connections with his possession --as he claims it-- for at least 3 months. 3 freaking months! And sadly, it was your reality. It was your turn to feel the horror that was brought upon his previous late love interests. Yes, late.

Your eyes shot open as you felt the touch on your head that belonged to the twisted man in front of you. His deep and resonant voice ringed in your ears as the next words rolled off his tongue.

"...Just know that you're mine, that's all."

"Come in."

As your answer was registered through the other side of the door, a familiar face peeped into the room before allowing himself to freely enter your office. As he carefully closed the door, you noticed that he was dressed in casual clothes that consists of plain white shirt, denim jacket, that goes in blend with his knee-cut jeans. In his hands are two paper bags --in which you assumed are food-- as he places it on your table. Your eyes travelled to his face as you were met with his adorable grin that represented those of the rabbit's. His eyes glimmered in joy upon seeing you the moment he stepped in and that alone made you smile at the thought.

"Mr. Jeon...uh, take a seat." You then gestured to the seat in front of your table. "Uhm, your follow-up appointment is already done. Not to be rude but, what are you still doing here?"

The male in front of you chuckled as he sat down. Hearing that made you feel pleased. Time really does fly so fast, huh?

He ran his hand through his soft hair as he let out another smile which seemed to grew wider than before. "C'mon, drop the formality; we're friends! Hmm, I guess you still haven't eaten something, so why not bring you food?"

A light-hearted laugh escaped your lips. "Thank you, Jungkook-ah." Your eyes then scanned his figure; noticing some few changes physically.

"Hm, I see you've been doing well just by looking at you."

"Well, it's because of you who took care of me. I swear those anti-depressants that you gave were really killing me." He let out a snicker as a flashback played in his mind. "Back then, I almost wanted to escape from here."

"Hey, at least you got better..." As you trailed off, your eyes then flashed a look of pain as memories flooded your brain. "If it wasn't for those...you'd still be here, in that same condition as before."

A hand rested on your shoulder. It's grip tightened and you can tell how worried he was as he saw your pained expression. "Yah. Don't be like that. I'm fine now due to our sessions, remember?"

"...Yeah. You're right."

Silence then took its place. It wasn't a disturbing nor an unsettling one; it was a comforting silence that engulfed you two. The scribbling of your pen and ticking of the clock was the only sound that was heard inside your room. You were quite immersed in your work that you haven't even looked up to Jungkook as he asked you a question.

"So, what have you been doing these past 7 weeks while I was discharged from here, besides having follow-up appointment with me?"

By his question, a sudden wave of anxiousness washed over you. You didn't notice it, but as you drew your attention on him, you saw how his expression dropped that caused you to think of how you reacted to his question. You massaged your head as you wanted to ease the throbbing pain away.

Turning back to him, you smiled faintly as you say the words. "It was hectic here...especially when one of my patients got out of this hospital."

"How's it going now?"

"Not so good." You said as you pulled out a newspaper out of the drawer then looked at it's content. Just reading it makes you so stressed. "According to our guards, they saw him going for his escape and tried to get him back, but all of that were in vain. He managed to break his way out; without leaving any traces of himself. He's currently being searched by our search team together with some cops."

A sigh escaped your lips. "Few weeks ago, he had become a dangerous patient of mine. He's out of control, as if he wants some bloodshed, as if he's having bloodlust." Every word that came out sent shivers down your spine. You feared this kind of situation, especially if it means risking the safety of others.

"Until one day, he was not seen in his room. He escaped. His room was a mess, scribbling on the walls were there saying about his revenge and all."

Jungkook felt like he was splashed with cold water upon hearing your words. He knew you weren't joking, not in this kind of matter. Yet what scared him the most was your last words.

"But what gave us goosebumps are his two assigned nurses...lying on the ground, surrounded by the pool of their own blood."

You felt like vomiting by just remembering the scene. Their necks are snapped in a different angle and were lacerated by a knife lying near the nurses, with blood pouring badly out of them. Numerous stabs were spotted from their bodies, some are even worse than the others. Some of their flesh are already cut wide open; it's almost like you can see their organs. From the looks of it, they were tortured to death.

As the stomach churning memory ran through your brain, you didn't notice how your hands were trembling. They became cold in an instant and you felt as if they were numb. Your chest feels heavy as you take deep breaths to calm yourself down. Jungkook noticed this and tried to calm you too. He rubbed your arm repeatedly in hopes of making yourself feel better.

"Y/N, everything will be alright. Whoever that patient of yours is, I'm sure they'll find that person soon."

You chewed your bottom lip; the anxious feeling never leaving your chest. Your heart was beating fast, yet you still managed to put up your stoic expression to the best you could. "Thanks for the encouraging words, Kookie."

In response, Jungkook pouted his lips. "Kookie? New nickname for me?"

"Well, you just called me by my first name, so might as well give you a nickname."

"Kookie, what do you mean you're gonna be late?" You tapped your fingers repeatedly on the table as you waited for an answer on the other line on the phone.

"Well, turns out, there's a heavy traffic here..."

"Aiish. I knew this would happen." You sighed for what seem to be the millionth time. "Just get here, will you?"

"Uhh, about that...I think we should just...you know, change place?"

"What?!" By this time, glances from the other customers at the restaurant were directed to you. As you tried to maintain your composure, you bit the inside of your cheek; not wanting to attract more creeped out gazes from others. "Okay. Tell me where."

As he told you the location, you immediately walked your way out of the resto, driving to the place where he wants you to meet up.

Ever since the day he went to your office, you two became closer. Though you still prioritized the thought of being just a psychologist to him, he still managed to crawl his way into your heart, but not in a romantic way, you tell yourself. He keeps on getting you accompanied by himself, he manages to put a smile on your face, and he keeps you entertained by his antics. He was much more different than his depressed self. His dull eyes, stoic expression, pale face and his problems were the reasons that drove you to do your best to cure him, to give him therapies and medicines that will help him through his suffering; just like what you do to your other patients too. And by the results, you were more than satisfied. You were ecstatic to see him back to his normal self, that he was able to see light from the darkness he's been in.

And so, here you are now, instead of using your free time to get some plenty rest as possible, you were driving your way to the place Jungkook told you to go to. Though tiredness seemed to be eating your system up, you still pushed the feeling away in order to get to your destination on time. You pressed harder on the gas pedal, steering your wheel to your left, shifting gears, then finally parking up in front of a café. Realizing it was the one that you really wanted to go to for a long time now --if it weren't for your packed schedule-- your mouth was slightly hanging open, look of disbelief written on your face. It took you a few seconds before finally having the courage to step out from the car and heading inside the café shop.

As you walked your way inside, you easily spotted Jungkook occupying a table not far from the entrance door. You quickly approached him, greeting him in the process. "Yah, did I make you wait?"

"No, not at all. Sit down, I have something to tell you."

You sat down as you crossed your arms and narrowed your eyes at him. "And what is that supposed to be? I hope it's something good."

"Unfortunately, it's not." His hand made its way on his nape as he rubbed it sheepishly. "Have you heard the news?"

Curiosity began to form in your gut as you leaned your elbows on the table. "News? About what?"

"News about the killings. There has been a lot of killings lately, and according to the news, it seems that one person only did it."

"How come?"

"By how the victims were killed." Jungkook's voice faltered as he said the words. Fear is evident from his tone of speaking. "It is said that all of the victims have the same spot for their cuts, there were incisions, and some are...even losing few of their organs." By now, you can see how frightened Jungkook is. His lips were trembling, hands gripping the edge of the table tightly that his knuckles turned white.

You, on the other hand, weren't getting his point. Though you're fully aware of yourself that you haven't been listening intently --but still trying to understand what he was saying-- you still can't get it. Dang this drowsiness of mine. What does this have to do with you? Where is he going with this? "Don't get mad or anything but...what's exactly your point?"

He clicked his tongue upon hearing your question. "My point is, I want you to be careful, okay? Especially these days. I don't know if he's targeting for a specific person or, --who knows?-- if he's just starting a random killing spree...It's just that, we don't know if that killer is ready to attack or not." He then sighed deeply as he looked at you with those eyes that are full of worry.

You sat there completely out of words. Is he really that concerned? Wow. You didn't expect this meeting to go this way. Silence lingered in the air as you tried to think of a response. "I--...I, uh. Okay...?"

"Yah. Take this seriously."

"Okay, okaaay. I'll be careful. So, now can we order?"

"Y/N! Why-- Why are you here...?"

"You forgot your tupperware at my office the last time you visited, genius. Here, I'm giving it ba--"

"Aiish!"

You noticed it. How can you not? It's obvious just by one look at him. Dark circles under his eyes, pale skin, droopy eyes, it's like he didn't get any sleep at all! "Kookie, you look terrible. What happened?"

"Nothing --I'll take that-- now go home."

"Kookie, you don't look good. C'mon, is something bother--"

"I said nothing so go home...!" He whisper-yelled.

It was unusual of him to act like this. Jungkook was far from that. Were you too pushy? Maybe you disturbed him? Yes, he's a human and it's normal for him to act like that, but it still won't erase the fact that it worries you. He seems anxious about something, which troubles you, but what could it be? He said it last week that everything's stable for him, so what's the acceptable reason for him to be behaving like this?

"Y/N, please...go home. It's not safe for you here, remember what I said at the café shop?"

"Jungkook, I don't understand what's happening here. First of all, it's 4:04 pm. What kind of danger that could be lurking around at this kind of hour?"

He suddenly gripped both of your shoulders, shaking you a bit. "Anything! Now, listen to me. Turn around and go on your way home."

"No." You refused firmly. A stern and cold look displayed on your features. "You're acting completely different and I wanna know why."

"That killer is near around here!" That simple whisper became the loudest thing you ever heard.

Your ears are fooling you, right? Jungkook's just kidding with you. "Are you joking me?"

"Why would I joke with this, Y/N? I'm telling the truth!" Without wasting any time, he swiftly dragged you inside his house and he closed the door.

"He's here, Y/N...! He already found his next victim...!"

You shook your head at him; seeing his words unbelievable. "But, Jungkook...this is a subdivision. A secured one at that. How would someone dangerous like him enter this place?"

"He has his ways! Y/N, please believe me..."

As his pleading fell into your ears, something inside you made you doubt. Was Jungkook really okay within these past few days? Come to think of it, he didn't pay any visit at my office a couple of days ago... You looked at him again, uncertainty swims at your [E/C] orbs as you stare at his own chocolate brown ones that reflects a great amount of fear at this moment. You reached out for his arms, rubbing them soothingly as you tried to calm him down. "Kookie, please. Tell me what happened to you on the days you weren't visiting me. I need to know."

Hesitation and as well as agitation was written on Jungkook's face. His attention was drawn upon you, confused eyes staring at yours. He took a deep breath as he gathered his courage to tell you what perturbed him within the last few days.

"I saw him last night sitting by my window. He was here."

"Kookie, open the door!" You shouted as you knocked at his bedroom door; cries could be heard inside. His place was a mess. Everything was trashed with the tables upside down, broken vase, some papers lying around that makes the place barely recognizable.

As the cries got unbearably intolerable, your face twisted into a painful expression. The thought of not being able to help him disturbs you. The more you hear him cry, the strong the urge to break down the door gets. You twisted the doorknob in a fast manner only to find it locked. As much as you hated it, you resorted to your last option. Stepping back, you gathered enough strength and at a high speed, you lifted up your leg and kicked the door hardly. This went on for a few times before the door went down.

There he was, sitting on his bed, with his knees pressed near to his body while his hands are gripping his hair tightly. Tears that were streaming down his face seemed endless, each tear came rolling down his chin, then drenching his shirt. His lips were quivering like those of a kid who just got his lollipop stolen. His eyes that are closed tightly, unknown to you, held so much panic that no one would ever think he could have. His eyes that served as his soul's window, always displayed a set of stars, or rather a sea of stars that by this time, turned into an empty, dull orbs that no longer glistens, as his fear clouded his mind and vision. At this, your heart broke into pieces that almost brought tears to your eyes.

As you approached him by seating on his bed in front of him, you immediately engulfed him by your comfortably tight hug. His cries didn't die down, instead it only got worse as his shoulders tremble with each and every cry of him. You cupped his face in your hands, wiping his tears with your thumbs while he holds your arms. "Kookie, Kookie...shh...don't cry..."

Your eyes examined his figure. From his tear-stained face to his drenched shirt, your vision travelled lower until your eyes landed on his wrists which has suspiciously red marks. Even his neck has one too; a hand-shaped red mark encircling his neck to be exact.

Then it clicked.

Your head snapped up immediately upon the realization; your whole being mortified by what you saw. Was he...

"Jungkook." You looked into his eyes firmly; demanding for answers. "Who did this to you?"

Just then, Jungkook flinched as you ran your fingers over his red marks. His eyes showed terror, mouth slightly open as he tried to look for words. "...Y-Y/N...I--"

"Answer. Me." Your eyes dangerously flashed a look of anger, or maybe it was beyond than that as you saw how Jungkook cowered at your sight. It hurt you to see him like that. But then you concluded that it hurts even more to know that someone had dared to lay a finger on him, your patient; your friend. "Tell me and we'll take a legal action against that. This is more than absurd! No one has the right to choke you and tie your wrists!"

As you snapped at this revelation of abusive act against him, he felt himself on the verge of crying. The cruelty he had received changed his life bit by bit. And it's because of that guy. Yes, he wants to take a legal action about it too. He was scared for life...but then, if he does that...Y/N will be dragged in this. I can't let it happen!

"Kookie, tell me who did this..." You held his hand tightly; reassuring him that everything will be alright. "Don't be afraid to speak up."

...Sorry, but I can't, Y/N.

He only shook his head and stared at your eyes. Silence enveloped you two and you were left there shocked. You don't get it quite right. You were dazed by his response. As your eyes were getting clouded by your tears, you somehow saw Jungkook lowered his head and slowly, he leaned his head at your shoulder; much to your surprise. Tears finally spilled down your cheeks as you felt the fabric of your shirt near your neck get drenched by his tears. You took a deep breath as you tried maintaining your composure, only letting Jungkook be the one crying at that moment.

He took a few deep breaths before finally having the courage to speak up; telling you his thoughts. "Y/N...I'm sorry if as your patient, I can't cooperate with the things you ask right now. Things are confusing and at the same time dangerous..." He bit his lower lip; anxiousness swirling inside him. "I can't risk on letting you be in danger." His soft and mild words reached your ears; indicating he was more than afraid of whatever is happening with him. Yes, you were scared knowing that it was risky, but it's the same case with him. You can't just ditch him and let himself be hurt with your own selfishness. It's just not right.

"I won't know how dangerous it is if you don't tell me." You reasoned while stroking his hair.

Suddenly, Jungkook lifted his head hastily; eyes glistening in fear. "You-- You don't understand...! He's quite-- He's quite dangerous! He's too dangerous for you...!"

He was shaking. Sweat dripping down his forehead, his ragged breaths, his tight grip on your arms; it all revealed his hysteria. It had a great impact on him; you knew it. But little did you know that his last words will cause you to feel the same.

"He's after you, Y/N...!"

You woke up to another silent night. Only silence lingered around; almost deafening you. As you looked out of the window, you saw the moon above shining brightly; its calming light illuminating your room you were sleeping in. Your mind wondered how many days it has been since you moved in together with Jungkook, how many days it has been since his nightly screams that would instantly jolt you up, making you scramble on your feet towards his room. It was quite tiring yet, you didn't regret it as it was your job as his psychologist to check up on him and ensure his safety and well-being. Or was it human nature as his friend?

You sighed and closed your eyes. As you shake off all the negative thoughts that were starting to invade your mind, you stood up and headed to the kitchen to get some glass of water. Silently, you walked down the corridor with your light footsteps, hands fiddling the hem of your shirt, until you passed by Jungkook's bedroom. A sudden thought crossed your mind. He hasn't been screaming for some time now, has he?

You walked towards his door, slowly reaching for the doorknob. For some reason, you can't get why you're having this kind of bad feeling. Your heart was pounding hard against your chest; cold sweat rolled down your forehead. Your breath hitched in your throat; hands becoming numb in an instant. Still, you brushed it off, thinking that maybe he finally got a peaceful sleep. The little debate inside your head went on for a minute before deciding to see it for yourself. As you came in contact with the cold metal that would open to the other side of the door, you slowly twisted it; gently pushing it open, only to meet an empty bed with disheveled blanket and pillows set aside. With that, you went downstairs in hopes of finding him there; whether it may be in the bathroom or kitchen, anywhere inside the house.

As you wandered around, you listened carefully in case there are some sounds that would resonate inside. You checked every room; bathroom, living room, dining area, kitchen, patio, but there are still no traces of him. By this, your heart was hammering inside non-stop, faster than it was before. Quick breaths of yours ringed in your ears, worst scenarios playing inside your head. You checked every room again, maybe 3 times more than you remembered, until you broke down in the kitchen; tiring yourself of thinking where he could be. As your eyes scanned your surroundings, something caught your eyes on something stuck on the fridge. You went to read it; peeling off the sticky note.

Y/N, sorry for going out without telling you. I just can't help to not disturb your peaceful slumber. If ever you're reading this, you can find me in this address.

[Written address]

Once you finished reading the note, you immediately changed into your casual clothes and went out; heading towards the address given in it. Cool breeze meets your skin; sending shivers down your spine. It was peculiar, especially for you who liked cool wind. The feeling was off.

Way off to your liking.

With that, you walked faster; your mind driving you crazy to the point that you almost ripped your hair off your head due to frustration. Your hands were trembling even though you tried to tell yourself that Jungkook's alright, as proven by the note. Or so you thought.

Your legs brought you in front of a mini-grocery store; making your brows furrowed. What baffled you is that the store is closed; with no signs of someone working inside as all the lights inside were off. Even the sign read 'Sorry, we're closed'. You looked around searching for the male; eyes frantically scanning everywhere. You walked around the area when a sudden sound reached your ears. From what you could tell, it came from a dark alley. Curiosity got the best of you as you started walking slowly towards the alley. Perhaps you may have not heard of the saying...

'Curiosity killed the cat'

Which led you to your doom.

A hand suddenly grabbed you by your arm; yanking you to the dark place that became an advantage for him to hide his identity. Yes, you could tell that it was a man that pulled you just by his strength. It was no lie that he was much stronger than you as he covered your mouth to prevent you from screaming; his other hand grabbing both of your wrists from behind. You felt as though the hands of darkness were creeping upon you. Your eyes widen at what's happening. Every touch of him sent chills to the bones which you fought with all your might. You struggled from his grip as he continued to bring you to the deeper place in the alley. As you tried to get out from his hold, you felt something near from his pocket. A gun. You stealthily grabbed it; not making it obvious by moving more to be free from his hands.

As you were brought in an illuminated area which you assumed is a 'dead end', he let you go far away from the escape route with him blocking the way. You concluded he was an armed man with a gun that you got from his gun holder earlier and a knife from his pocket. A sinister smile crept up from his lips; paralyzing you at the moment.

"Y/N...I knew you would come."

Wait...his voice sounded so familiar...could it be?

"Huh? Weren't you happy to see me? Say something."

No, no, no! That couldn't be him! Just no!

"Y/N—"

"Come in to the light." Your voice sounded so demanding when those words slipped out, though your expression contradicted. It showed fear and terror just by looking into your eyes. So contrasting; much to your displeasure.

With a little help from the moon above, you could see his figure, but still not enough to identify the face. You saw him tilt his head from your words as if he was mocking you; which really worked to say the least.

"I said come in to the light. Show yourself." You once again said, this time adding more firmness in each word. Your hands balled into fists as you tried to repress both your anger and fear; not wanting to let the mysterious guy know that you are scared from his presence.

"If you say so."

The guy slowly stepped forward; bathing himself from the moonlight. As the moon shone upon him, his eyes glinted in an unidentifiable expression as he looked at you hardly that could pierce right through your soul. His aura locked you in place. It was a menacing one making your blood run cold. You knew something was up and that was proved when he fully stepped out from the dark. His face that barely showed emotion; almost blank, was horrifyingly creepy as it could be. It gave you goosebumps; not to mention it made you feel colder than before. The equal shadow and light that adorned his face greatly added an effect in increasing his menacing presence which made you cower because of him.

Pathetic. You thought as you gritted your teeth in anger.

As you glared at him, you slowly realized why he sounded so familiar.

That face.

That voice.

That stare.

They were all so familiar to you that you trembled in fear. It's him. It's definitely him.

Your lips quivered in fear as you registered everything. "Wai— Wait...No...It's impossible, it can't be you...!" Tears formed in your eyes; finally slapped by the realization. "You can't be him...You— You can't be Kim Taehyung...!"

"But I am Kim Taehyung."

You felt your whole world stop as those words sink in your brain. He was the one that Jungkook was talking about, the killer that everyone feared. His doings spread immediately all over the entire news, each and every day his number of victims killed grew more. This was what you feared for in the first place. You knew he had the ability to kill, to commit murder, to take someone's life like it was just a candy stolen from a baby. But then what you feared for the most was his ability to make someone's death look like a suicide. By that, you knew what you had to do. It's now or never.

Slowly as you can ever be, you tried to reach your hand out for him; the thought of his skin touching yours plays in your mind that gives chills through your bones. Your lips were trembling as you attempted to speak out, "...Okay...Tae-- Taehyung..." You started, "I guess...we had a ba-- bad start, but hey, it's me, Dr. L/N Y/N..."

He didn't back away nor moved closer near your touch. He just stood there completely still; observing every movements you made. "You-- You remember me, right...? What do you say if-- if we head back to the hospital and--"

"What do you think I am, a fool?" His attention went onto your hands and slapped them away harshly. He was digging holes in your head by those burning glare of his. "We're going back to that hospital, and what? Lock me in there again? Like I was your prisoner or something?!"

You flinched at his outburst. His hands were now gripping your arms tightly making you wince. "Well doctor, not a chance." He shoved you away forcefully as his rage got the best of him. "Do you have any idea how much I've endured staying in there not seeing you? Do you even know how I longed to have your presence beside mine? Do you?!" He ran a hand through his hair out of frustration, quick breaths could be heard from him. "You don't."

You were scared-- no, terrified of the person in front of you. He's like a complete different guy from the one you've had sessions with. He was aggressive, short-tempered that anytime soon, he could explode out of fury. His dilated eyes, gritting teeth and clenched jaw made it so obvious. "And that's why...I escaped from there. You know, I couldn't quite decipher that I would have the courage to do that; to leave you there alone...with him."

Him...?

From being hostile to being unfazed, you watched as he quickly changes his mood. It isn't too surprising for you though as you already encountered lots of patients with the same case. However, you, on the other half, were puzzled by his last words; confusion written on your face, with your brows furrowed. As Taehyung sees this, he mockingly tilts his head to his side for the second time. "Yes, him. I don't really know how...but I do get the feeling that he was somehow...getting quite attached to you."

He clicked his tongue, annoyed look etched on his features. Eyes glazing dangerously upon your figure, he continued to speak. "I knew I had to make a move, to make a warning for him. He was getting on my nerves...that I couldn't help myself to kill someone." A hellish chuckle escaped his lips, then twitching upwards forming a smirk. "Or should I say...some people?"

A gasp came out from you, your hands then covering your mouth due to shock, caused by the information you've heard. So it is true...He-- He was the one Jungkook was talking about this whole time!

Wai-- Wait, where is Jungkook?

By that thought, you somehow got a bit of courage to ask him the main reason why you came to that place. Is he the one responsible for Jungkook's disappearance? "...Where's Jungkook...?" You breathed out.

As his name was spoken out, he quickly lifted up a finger in the air to shush you right then and there. "Hey, hey, hey. I was just getting to his part." He closed his eyes and placed his hand on where his heart is, as his face showed a look of fake disappointment; clearly he wasn't even a tad bit entertained at the mention of his name, to be honest. "Aw, you just spoiled the surprise."

"Sur-- Surprise? What--"

Boom.

Your eyes widened; the whole thing was too much for you to handle. It felt like the realization was slammed right onto your face without you even knowing it. The look on your face made Taehyung crack a smile; a wicked smile for his satisfaction. It was like his hunger for your despair filled his empty, once craving stomach. A heinous human being indeed. "You finally got the gist."

"You-- You were talking about him...? Ju-- Jungkook?"

"Of course, who else?"

The once silent and eerie alley was disturbed by your shrill yells and cries. "So you were the one! You-- You were the one who tortured him! The one who mercilessly entered his house and gave him such petrifying nightmares! Ho-- How could you?!"

Despite your screaming, Taehyung paid no mind about it. Instead, he grabbed his pocket knife and played with it; his finger tracing the sharp edge, light enough not to cut his skin. "It was simple, sweetie. It was hatred...and,

Hatred is a beautiful thing when you know how to use it right."

Each words felt like sharp daggers piercing right through your heart and mind. You were losing your sanity, you couldn't control yourself. You were having a mental breakdown; eyes staring apprehensively to the male in front of you. From murdering people to torturing his fellow patient, you barely knew him, even though you're fully aware of what he's capable with. Regardless of those, you're still holding on to the lies that were swimming in your mind; believing that there's still a tinge of good and kindness within him, that he would snap out of it and realize what he has done.

As you drown yourself in your thoughts, Taehyung's deep voice cut through your own senses; snapping you back to reality. "That hatred is what I used as a weapon against Jungkook. And you were right," A devilish chortle came from his mouth, eyes glinting in mischief. "I was the one who tormented him and his pathetic, little mind. Lucky him, I didn't even give my best shot yet. Maybe next time, what do you say, hm? And I'll gladly let you be his audience when that happens."

As each word reached your ears, anguish and madness filled you up. "Stop! You're lying...! This isn't happening...Thi-- This isn't real!" You aggressively wiped the newly formed tears in your eyes before they fall down your cheeks. Your mind was overdriven by the events in which you have no control of. "Stop this nonsense! Tell me where Jungkook is and tell me who you really are!" At this point, you don't really care what might happen ahead as you just hastily raised his gun from under your clothes, pointing it at him and at him only. "Taehyung isn't like this! Taehyung isn't like you!"

His gaze hardened as he stared at your own figure. His eyes flickered dangerously in anger; patience currently running out fast. Drastically fast. But then, he decided to let it slip. A single thing like that isn't really his main priority when he was near in reaching his goal. He just have to make a way out of this little turbulence.

"But this is what I've become, Y/N. There's no changing that. I was born to be like this. I chose to be like this."

"I said stop! Don't you dare push me to my limit, or else I won't hesitate to pull the trigger."

As seconds passed by, Taehyung knew you were at the edge of your fury. Your determined eyes locked with his, with no signs of backing out. "Then go ahead. Pull the trigger." He closed his eyes and opened his arms wide open, as if he was accepting what was about to happen. "If you want Jungkook back, kill me."

Kill me...

Those words kept ringing inside your head. You couldn't believe the words he just spitted out. You tried to calm your shaking hands, focusing the gun on him. He said it himself, his death would mean you'll get Jungkook safely, but why weren't you pulling the trigger yet? Just why?

"See? You can't do it. You could never do it. You could never kill your patient."

And the painful truth struck you like a lightning through your heart. It kept you in your place, the gun in your hands pointed at him shakily. He was right. You could never kill a patient, you could never kill your own patient. You remained silent at the moment, like a muted person, while staring at him blankly with wide eyes.

"Please...please, bring Jungkook back...return the old Taehyung..." You let out a whimper, your pleads becoming a desperate call. Tears escaped your eyes as you choked on your own cries; words being spoken between sobs were barely recognizable as your own. Yet, he only stood there, like a statue, watching your own figure crumble upon his godly stance and sight; his spitefulness slowly builds up within him.

As his eyes bore into yours, he saw something. Something that made his hatred towards the missing male burn even more. And so, through his gritted teeth, he hissed in anger, "I am Kim Taehyung."

"Liar!"

Bang!

A loud gun shot resonated in the alley. Each echo sent a heart-pounding feeling through your nerves, giving you goosebumps. Your eyes were closed tightly, hands getting clammy as your breathing started getting a bit faster. There was no sound coming from him. Absolute silence surrounded you.

Oh-- Oh no...I-- I must've killed him!

With that thought in your mind, your eyes slowly opened. While you were adjusting your blurry vision caused by your tears, you let out a deep, unsteady breath you seemed to be holding in. As it gets clearer, time seemed to stop as the air got knocked out of your lungs. A heavy feeling in your chest started to spread as your muscles become numb; your whole body was against to what your brain was trying to tell. Your feet was glued to the ground, unable to move them as you were paralyzed at the moment.

"What an idiotic move."

Wha— What...?

A maniac giggle was heard after a minute of silence you fired the gun. As the time ticked by, you didn't know how to react anymore. Were you supposed to be happy that you didn't kill him? Or were you suppose to feel the opposite because you failed to get Jungkook back?

Your heart started beating faster as panic swirls within you. Hands turning cold the moment those four words reached your ears, you loosen your tight grip on the gun; making it fall to the ground. Your breathing became uneven as your brain processed everything.

And then it happened.

Fast like a lightning that tore the sky, you found it hard to breathe the second your eyes landed on his figure. He was suddenly in front of you with his eyes burning in fury. His fingers dug on your neck deeply, his palms suffocating your airway. Tears formed in your eyes as you tried to fight back; your arms were thrashing around him, desperate for freedom from his hands.

"You think you could get away from this easily?" He was seething with every words he spoke out. "You think you could get rid of me that easily?!"

As your vision was starting to be hazy, you used all your power that's left in you to push him hardly in order to get away from him. His touch still lingers on your neck as you coughed out from lack of oxygen. You were shaking, all of this were too much. Too much that it only made you mutter out the words. "I don't--...I don't understand everything..."

"Oh darling, you don't have to understand anything..."

Your eyes shot open as you felt the touch on your head that belonged to the twisted man in front of you. His deep and resonant voice ringed in your ears as the next words rolled off his tongue.

"...Just know that you're mine, that's all."

With his words, you were met with darkness.

A/N: And it’s done! Yes, I did leave an open ending for y’all. I wanna let you guys draw your own conclusions as to what happened to Jungkook, what happened to the reader and whatnot. I think it’s fun to let the reader have that, even for just once in a while xD Sooooo, with that I hope you liked reading this and enjoyed this one-shot! ^^

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boogiewrites · 7 years ago

Text

Choking On Sapphires Pt. 4

Title & Song: 60 Feet Tall by The Dead Weather

Characters: Alfie Solomons x OFC

Word Count: 4000+

Summary: Genevieve Durand is a force to be reckoned with. An intelligent, independent and brutal businesswoman. When she moves to London for a new chapter in her life, she finds herself very interested in the friends the father of her godson has found himself in business with. Surely these new business endeavors will be fruitful for all involved.

A/N: Every chapter of this story will have a song to work as the title and as a soundtrack. Chapter 4 song is60 Feet Tall by The Dead Weather . All text in italics is spoken in French.

Part 1: Thieves & Kings.- Pt. 2 Conquest - Pt. 3 Nail In My Coffin - Pt. 5 - Bet You Look Good On The Dance Floor

My Masterlist.

I have to thank my boi @jaegeeeeer who helps me brain when it don’t wanna make the words go. This story is in ways, our first child together and our weird brains and her great taste in music helped form this monster. So, thanks?

Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence. Canon-typical gore. Canon-typical derogatory language.

"I wonder what she's gonna do this time," John mutters from the far end of the table, picking at his nails, huffing out a laugh. "I bet she's wearin' red today, brothers." he laughs to himself.

"Oh, come on now John, don't start." Arthur scolds his younger brother, turning his head to him but not his eyes. Arthur was blankly staring into the grain of the table.

"I'm sure it’ll be a red dress day from speaking with her over the telephone." Tommy adds, glaring at them both as he walks back and forth across the floor of the Garrison.

"And how are you still livin'? You of all of us should hope she's not in red today. You're the one that got all balled up and conned her into this mess." John retorts.

"I did not con her and since you can not strangle anyone through the telephone, I am still alive and I still have to deal with this, so shut up and let me handle it." he answers, his voice low.

"She's gonna be so fuckin' mad." Arthur mumbles, not so much in retort but he felt bad for you. "I'd put my money on red today." As much as he did enjoy your lethal escapades together, when it was just one of you angry without the other, there was no fun to be had by either of you.

"What'd you do to her, Thomas?" Alfie shouts as he comes up the back hallway into the bar.

"It's not so much me as Sabini." Tommy says, shaking the hand holding a cigarette towards Alfie.

"What a twist of the truth that is." Arthur replies, nervous in anticipation of your iminent arrival.

"What is it you've lured me into today, Tommy?" Alfie's tone is scolding, pulling up a chair to the far side of a long table sat in the middle of a cleared Garrison.

"Alfie. I've invited you as a mediator of sorts. I figured she might be more inclined to behave herself if you're here. A living witness as to what happens to us here today. I believe you are the only among us to have not wronged her in some way."

"Yet." Arthur says in a vaguely intimidating way. Alfie narrows his eyes in question at the man ignoring his presence otherwise across the room.

Tommy stops to stand in the space between the two chairs to his left next to his brothers and Alfie. "I went through with an alternative plan from what I had discussed with her previously." his fingertips rest on the top of the table, his head up as he speaks with no enthusiasm.

"No, she fuckin' told you this would happen if you let the Italians in on it. Her words exactly." Arthur interupts, his voice much less somber than it was.

"I remember her words, Arthur." Tommy says with a sigh, closing his eyes for a moment. He takes a deep breath and goes back to explaining the situation, his words directed at only Alfie. "I lied to her and said I wouldn't ask for the Italians help to scope out a place for her that she's had her eye on robbing. But, it was in their territory and I didn't want to deal with them being fuckin' pricks about it. It was a very ambitious job. Even for her." he takes a moment to push back feeling bad about what he'd done. "The fuckin' Italians get spooked and kill every guard on duty. Now the place is sealed tighter than a tomb and there is no way in for the foreseeable future." the last part comes out faster than the rest.

"And?" Alfie demands, being able to tell he isn't getting the full extent to the cause of your anger.

"And they stole things while they were in there that they are refusing to hand over." his head dips as he adds the last words, laced with annoyance.

"Ah. There is it is, now, see?" Alfie nods, "Just tell the truth Tommy, that's all ya gotta do." he shakes his head and tsks him. He motions with his hand at Tommy and looking at the two other Shelby's at the other end of his side of the table in solidarity at being disappointed with him. "They got something she had her eye on, didn't they?" his voice dips low with a tone of knowing, directed by to Tommy.

"Yes." he says flatly, refusing to look at him.

"Oh, I do imagine she will be quiet upset by that now, yeah?" he can't help the grin that spreads across his face, fully at the expense of Tommy.

"One of those fuckin' eggs she goes on about." Arthur mumbles, his elbows resting on the table in front of him, watching the door.

"Fuckin' Faberge?" Alfies voice goes higher pitched. "Where in hell was she trying to break in to?" his voice grows louder. Tommy ignores his question.

"Have you ever seen Gen angry, Alfie?" Tommy asks, turning his head to him.

"No I have not had, what sounds like, the distinct pleasure to witness this event." his hands clasp over the handle of his cane.

"Well, you're fuckin' about to." John grumbles, chewing his toothpick as he sits straight up in his chair, adjusting his jacket. Alfie's head quickly swivels towards the door.

"Best shut your mouths, all of ya." Arthur says as he stands from his chair to greet you as your silhouette appears in the frosted glass of the door, pausing before reaching for the handle. They all see and share a glance as they can see the red of your dress through the foggy surface.

You walk through the door to see the four men, all looking at you in a different way. You were angry. You were seething. Did you want to scream and say things Tommy would deflect until he was alone with his thoughts in his drunken mind, alone in the middle of the night, turning his blue eyes red? Yes. But were you? No. You had been lied to. That very specifically stung. It hurt so deeply you were numbed to it. Thomas should thank his lucky stars for that. Your planning of the job that you'd been working on for quite some time was now voided out. You would get over that eventually. You were not weeping for the loss of life of the guards. They knew what they were signing up for. Were you mad that things you craved to be your own were now in the hands of those you considered your enemies? Yes. You weren't sure how long it would take to get over that aspect. But in the meantime you tried to appear more like an abyss, calm with the threat of danger lying just under the surface instead of roaring in like a typhoon.

"This place finally looks worthy of me visiting it." you say, pulling off your gloves with your teeth, referring to the new golden interior of the bar. You hadn't been here in ages and under different circumstances, you'd be much more complimentary of the updates.

"It'll never be worthy of you, sweetheart." Arthur's gruff tone did disarm you if only for a few milliseconds. He approaches you with opens arms, waiting for you to reciprocate.

"My peach." you say, patting his cheek and wrapping your arms around his neck in a hug. He tightly embraces you, shaking your body just slightly in a show of enthusiasm at your words of praise. You place a kiss on his cheek and he moves to the back of the chair he was sitting in. You look down your nose at John who was still gnawing his toothpick as his fingers wrapped around the end of it.

"Well, c'mon then, up with you." you pleasantly command as he takes out his toothpick and grins. You wrap your arms around him as well, kissing his cheek the same as Arthur, "It feels as if it has been many moons since I've seen you."

"It's felt even longer to me." he says with a cheeky grin as he pulls away from you.

You smirk, tapping his nose with your finger, "Charmers, the lot of you." you tutt, as he sits down.

Tommy doesn't open his arms as he knows what the response to be. "No point in letting you in close when I know you at the very least have a knife on you."

"I'd call you a smart boy if your actions didn't speak exactly the opposite of you." you hiss, shaking your head. Your eyes look to Alfie, who you are surprised to see here. You stand closer to Tommy, glaring up at him. "But you're smart enough to bring someone not a brother here today so I don't slap the piss out of you for lying to me." you hiss quietly. "Your's will be coming Shelby." you say before moving your attention to your unexpected guest. "What brings you all the way out here, Alfie?" you inquire, your tone now welcoming. He stands as you get closer.

"It seems as though you do. Since our Tommy here has gone and fucked up everything for you, hasn't he?" he kisses your hand instead of your cheeks. He's cautious of you. Good. He should be today. "I almost wept at the news of him ruining your plans to get your hands on Feberege, I did." he says, slightly pouting in his almost sincere words. He holds your hands in his. "I am truly, very sorry for your loss." You sigh as you hold eye contact with him.

"So am I." your eyelashes flutter and you turn your head. Alfie is familiar with the longing look he finds in your eyes as you think of your prize. "Beautiful she was." You clear your throat after you pause for a few seconds. You move to sit in the closest chair. Tommy sits to your left. You wait in silence.

Sabini sits across from Tommy, another vaguely recognizable man to his right, and from the looks of him, a much lower ranking man to his left. This man is seated across from you.

You let Tommy speak first, you knew how this worked. Your hands are in your lap, your back straight and your eyes full of the fury of a woman scorned.

"Who's she?" Sabini asks Tommy, his gloved hand motioning to you.

"The party in question that has been wrong by the consequences of your men's actions." Tommy states plainly, you can tell by the stiffness in his shoulders he wasn't happy with how this was going already. Neither were you.

"Address your questions of me, to me, Mr. Sabini." you say low and even. Sabini rolls his eyes and looks over at you.

"Who are you?" he asks you with a condescending tone.

"Genevieve Durand." you state, your face hard and serious. The man across from you makes a scoffing noise. Your eyes slide to him, your brows lowering in the process.

"YOU'RE Durand?" he asks, his tone in disbelief.

You tilt your head at him in response.

"Durand is a fuckin' woman? You had us taking orders from her? " he asks, shaking his head towards Sabini, looking back to another man standing behind them.

Sabini ignores him. "And what the fuck are you doing here Alfie?" he holds his arm out towards the man who sits a few feet to your right.

"Moral support." he says cleverly.

"You know her?" he moves his hand to you.

"Yes. I know Miss Durand." he says, the use of your name telling you he realized the dehumanization you were currently feeling in droves.

"If you continue speaking as if I'm not here there is going to be a problem." you state in a calm tone, your eyes moving to Sabini. He looks down his nose at you.

"Miss Durand has suffered a loss at your hand due to my poor choice in help with this job." Tommy cuts in before Sabini opens his mouth.

"Poor choice." Sabini spits out, resting and arm on the table. "You're lucky it was us who went in there, little thing like her tried to get into that fortress she'd have her neck snapped before she could raise her dress to hop the fence." he says incredulously to Tommy alone.

You see Arthur shift in his seat at his words. Your eyes shut in an attempt to not reach for your knife, although your fingers were subconsciously working your dress up your leg instinctually from your anger. Alfie sees your hands moving unnoticed to the other side of the table. He doesn't know if he could be more interested in where this was going if he tried.

"Tommy?" you say clearly and sweetly. His eyes are unsure but steady as they turn to you. "What's my favorite thing in the world?" you ask, your head turning towards him. He gives you a subtle smile. Sabini still wears the same daft look on his face.

"Your money." he confidently responds, looking back over to Sabini.

"Oui." you nod angrily, looking to Sabini yourself. "My money. You're fucking with my money." you shout the next words, your chin rising in anger. "Personne ne baise avec mon argent!" you say with a fire burning inside your gut.

"Nobody's fucking with your money, sweetheart." Sabini says in a loud and whiney voice.

"Her money?" the man in front of you scoffs yet again after you speak. Your eyes are wide open this time as you stare into him. You don't even blink. "Just like a woman to speak for what her husbands earned." he says condescendingly.

"It is my fucking money. Mine alone. I insist you speak to me with more respect or else I'll be forced to do something like, call you a fucking goombah." you spit venomously at him. Your fingers slip into the holes of the custom made knife and it's holster on your thigh.

"Now you gonna let her talk to us like that?" he motions his hand to Tommy.

"She is inclined to speak however and to whoever she wants." Tommy clarifies even though you don't need him to.

"Your boy should shut his fucking mouth before something bad happens." you say slowly. Your words are directed at Sabini but your eyes bore into the man across from you.

"Arnold, let's try and be respectful, shall we?" Sabini says in an entirely fake and unconvincing voice.

"I'm not gonna be respectful to a woman who speaks to me like that. Should've known she didn't have a husband, who could put up with this?" he retorts, leaning forward on the table towards you in a, to him, macho move. This would prove to be a mistake on his behalf.

"Were you in charge on the night in question?" you ask him. Your tone impressively steady.

"Yeah, I was, what's it to ya?" he asks, his nose scrunching up at you as he spoke.

"You've taken things from me. I should take things from you now." you hiss, your eyes moving across his face.

"I got nothing whats yours sweetheart." he says cockily, his head shaking as he spoke.

You reach out like a flash, grabbing his tie and bouncing his head off the table. Your brass knuckle handled knife stabbing his tie into the table. Your hand remains on the handle, you lean in to speak to the man, ignoring the gun pulled on you from Sabini's back up. Sabini has pushed his chair away. "Where is my FUCKING EGG!" you shout.

"The fuck you doing?" he shouts, the fear in his voice makes goosebumps break out over your skin in pleasure.

"I know what was in that fucking house and I know the Faberge egg is no longer in the house so WHERE THE FUCK IS IT?" you shout your last words again.

"Listen you fucking crazy-" he's starting to blubber.

"CHOOSE YOUR NEXT WORDS VERY CAREFULLY!" your eyes wide, your brows high, your voice loud and booming so close to his face, your knee already on the edge of the table, ready to pounce. "Or they will be your last." you add, your crazed state of mind evident in the varying inflections of the few words, all punctuated with a villainous laugh.

"You gonna let her get away with acting like a fucking lunatic like this?" he looks desperately at the other men in the room both on his side and not. No one speaks against you. You see the hope fade from his face as the fear for his life rise. You let out a low, deep growl of a laugh.

"You should be fucking locked away, you fucking-" you feel it's time to end your suffering at the hand of the words of this man. You end the suffering for anyone who had ever had to hear a word uttered from his disgusting mouth.

You move so quickly in your rage. You yank the knife from the table, holding it as you project yourself across the table. You grab his shoulders, taking both him and the chair down with you as you land on top of him with your knees on his chest. You've pushed off the table hard enough to have moved you both a few feet back from where his chair had been. You hear his cries of pain and your teeth just grit tighter. No one in the room moves but you. Shock, excitement and confusion surge through the air. You punch him in the jaw repeatedly. You keep hitting him until he has few teeth left to defend himself with. After finding him weakened enough, his face now less recognizable. You shove your hands into his mouth, your nails digging into his tongue. The way his eyes go wide, his pupils blown out as he looks up at you, it all just adds to the moment. Killing was almost always personal in some way to you. You never killed without a reason. The blood from his rapid pulse makes him bleed in gushing waves as your knife cuts into the thick attached part of his tongue in the back of his mouth. You feel the blood hit your face and chest. He gurgles, chokes and cries beneath you, he faded and bled out surprisingly fast. You start to fade out of your animalistic mindset and gulp and wet your lips.

"You fucking animal!" Sabini shouts. You're sure he thinks whatever he is saying is very important but you block him out. Your ears ring slightly as if a bomb had gone off. You look at your chest and hands, lips frowning at the blood across your face and arms. You stand and move one leg so you're not straddling the man any longer. You turn to Sabini, your knife still in your hand.

"You took something from me so I took something from you. As far as I'm concerned, we're even. For now." you state calmly, your blood splattered body a strange juxtaposition with your words.

"You're fucking insane!" he shouts, his arms up in the air.

"Suck the entirety of my fucking cock, Sabini." you say, wiping the bloody blade off on his jacket as he looks as if he might gag. You hike up your dress and slide the knife back into its place on your thigh. You drop your dress and head towards the bar as Sabini and his men scoop up the body and leave hastily.

You hop up onto the bar to sit. Arthur is the first to rise from his seat. He lights a cigarette and hands it to you.

"It's like you know me, Arthur." you give him a tired smile.

"I do, luv." he says, his hand patting your knee. He'd seen your rage before. He'd helped you work out your rage on deserving people over the years. Truly another soul who had the ability to embrace that darkness that bubbled up like bile in your throats. Arthur moves to behind the bar but you've already leaned back and grabbed a bottle of whiskey, opening it and taking a drink from the bottle.

You take a sharp inhale and see John, his chair turned around, his legs spread out, hands in his lap, grinning at you. John had also seen your rage. It entertained him to no end. It surprised him still at times but that was part of the enjoyment for him.

"Fuckin' Italians." he says with his voice threatening to turn into a laugh as he reaches out to grab one of the glasses Arthur's put on the bar.

You see Arthur raise his hand and you three clink the bottles together lightly mumblin' "Fuckin' Italians." as you always did after fighting a member of said group. The first words either John or Arthur really remembered from you had turned into an inside joke amongst you three over the years. Tommy rolls his eyes at the display.

He was up and looking at the damage to the floor. "I'll pay for the floor, Tommy, that one's on me." you say, nodding to him as his eyes meet yours, he mirrors your gesture.

Your inense eyes move across the bar, landing on Alfie. In the midst of this, your brain called out, 'Poor, sweet Alfie' even though you knew this not to be the truth. You were hoping the brutal approach you'd heard of him taking would keep him from cutting all ties with a woman like you after witnessing that. Now that he'd seen what you do. But as you take a damp towel from Arthurs' hand from behind you, your eyes still locked on Alfie, you don't see any hint of running from him. If anything, he seemed even further planted as you looked at each other.

"I'm afraid I've failed entirely at behaving myself and for that I apologize for what you've seen me do here today." you say, your voice breathier than you intended. You were still a bit unexpectedly winded. You wipe your hands with the towel.

"What on earth for?" he says softly with an offense to your apology, approaching you. Your eyebrows raise as he shows no hesitation in moving right up next to you at the bar, sitting by your legs, looking up at you. Your eyes are back to their dark, doe-eyed selves as you blink down at him. "That was fucking brilliant." he grins. He took in your disheveled appearance. Some of your hair had fallen, the dark waves framing your collar bones with the curved neckline of your dress. The blood against your pale skin, dotting you like constellations in the night sky. "A woman telling a man to suck the entirety of her fucking cock, " he says with emphasis on your words being your own, "is something that I have not seen before." he nods, his brows knitted together at you in thought.

"No one ever expects the ugly words to come from such a pretty face now do they, Genny?" Arthur teases, referring to your usage of crass words in anger. "The woman's an artist." You can't help but smile at his words in combination with how Alfie was now looking at you. His eyes didn't leave you.

You don't hide your reaction to his words. "That she is." he says in an oddly proud tone, his head nodding. His voice slower and lower the more his eyes narrowed at you. "An artist who works in the mediums of sword and word with brutality and finesse?" he points a finger at you, his other hand still perched atop his cane. His eyes flick over to Tommy and back to you. "That's a rare skill set, innit? And from a woman who looks like a work of art herself?" you subtly reciprocate the enthusiastic expression he gives you.

"Always good to meet fans of my work." you say full of yourself. You grin down at him, your eyelids lowered just slightly, not hiding your still large pupils. He lets out a loud laugh, tapping his cane against the floor with his pleased face focused on yours.

Pt. 5 I Bet You Look Good On The Dance Floor

Tags! Let me know if you’d like to be added or dropped! Thanks!

@fangirlfreakingout @jaegeeeeer @cosettewinchester @lookuptheskyisfalling-blog

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sonicfandomsecretsanta · 7 years ago

Text

This submission is from @bouncepaaad! I wish I had gotten a chance to draw something from it but I ran out of time.

For @spadeyque

- Sugar Cookies -

Sonic relaxed in the hammock hung in a corner of Tails’ workshop.

The big winter celebration was just around the corner, and even closer was the Christmas party Amy held every year at her house. The party didn’t start for hours yet, so Sonic had decided to while away the time lounging comfortably indoors, listening to the sounds of his best friend tinkering.

Sonic flipped the phone open and brought it to his ear, then promptly winced and moved it away when Amy’s distressed voice came through loudly.

“Sonic! It’s a disaster!”

The blue hero sat up, instantly alert. “What is it, Amy? Eggman attacking somewhere?”

“Noooo!” wailed Amy. “I was just about to make some cookies for the party, but I realized I don’t have any sugar!”

Sonic blinked, then looked nonplussed.

“Amy,” he groused, “You really called just for that? Can’t you just make them another time?”

“But I already mixed the dry ingredients together, I can’t just let them go to waste!”

Sonic switched the phone to his other ear, digging a finger into the one that had taken the brunt of Amy’s high-pitched protest.

“Alright, alright,” he chuckled. “Hang tight, I’ll be there in a sec.”

Flipping the phone closed, Sonic hopped out of the hammock and stretched.

“Gotta go, Tails,” he announced to his little brother. “Sugar emergency.”

Tails emerged from where he’d been working behind a spare engine, and pushed his goggles up past his forehead. Though he’d only heard half of the phone conversation, he’d already worked out the situation.

“There’s an extra bag in the pantry,” said Tails. “You can take her that.”

“Nice!” Sonic grinned, glad to have been saved the trip to a grocery store. He didn’t dislike running in the cold weather, or even the snow, but he certainly didn’t prefer it.

Once he had the sugar in hand, he poked his head in the workshop to let Tails know he was heading out.

The young fox had already dived back into his work and didn’t look up, only waving a hand from behind the engine. “Be careful, Sonic. Oh!” He popped his head out again. “And bring me back a cookie!”

“Will do, bud!”

With a wink and a wave, Sonic was speeding off through the cold, in the direction of Amy’s house. __________________________________________________________

Amy Rose puffed her cheeks in frustration at herself. Forgetting to check if she had enough sugar to make sugar cookies of all things! At least Sonic was coming to her rescue.

Sure enough, just a few minutes later she heard Sonic skidding to a halt outside her door. The sound made her heart beat a little faster, and she smoothed out the front of her frilled apron and hurried to let him in.

“Yo, Amy!” Sonic said, lifting a hand in greeting. He hefted the small bag of sugar for her approval. “This enough?”

“Oh, Sonic, thank you!” Amy gushed, latching onto him with a hug.

Sonic grunted and flailed a bit under the sudden armful of Amy, but didn’t push her away.

He glanced around at the evergreen boughs that adorned the doorframe, the lights strung up all over the place, and of course the plump tree in the corner covered with colorful ornaments.

“Wow, looking pretty festive in here!”

Amy pulled back, smiling. “Vanilla, Cream, and Cheese are coming by soon to help me with the rest. This place will be party ready in no time!”

“Well, I’ll let you get back to it,” said Sonic, preparing to leave.

“Wait!” cried Amy, gripping one of his hands. “You can stay and help?”

Sonic shrugged. “I don’t know, Ames. Baking isn’t really my thing.”

“You can just watch if you want to! I’d really enjoy the company.”

“Eh, well…”

“You can have the first taste,” Amy sing-songed.

When Sonic sighed and hung his head, she knew she had him. She squealed in delight as Sonic let her pull him into the kitchen.

At the table, Amy set to work immediately, filling a measuring cup with the delivered sugar and then mixing it together with some butter in a bowl. Just a few steps later, she had a mound of light-colored dough pressed flat with a rolling pin. She took up a cookie cutter and began pressing and wiggling it into the flattened dough.

As Sonic watched, he suddenly realized that the cut-out shapes looked a little…familiar.

“Uh, Amy…are those…me cookies? Wearing a Santa hat?”

The pink hedgehog giggled. She’d been wondering when he’d notice.

“Yep! The cookie cutter’s from a special winter release of Sonic kitchen goods! See?” She gestured to the item’s packaging, which featured a caricature of Sonic himself, wearing a red and white Santa-themed outfit.

Sonic raised an eyeridge. “Limited Edition, huh?”

Amy laughed again, but didn’t tell him that the cookie cutter had been a prize for a mail-in Sonic trivia contest.

She continued the rolling and cutting process, humming as she did so. It wasn’t long before the first batch went into the oven. When the timer beeped about ten minutes later, Amy donned some oven mitts and pulled out the freshly-baked sugar cookies.

Before she had a chance to set the tray down, Sonic reached over and grabbed one of the cookies with only his gloved hand.

“Sonic, they’re too hot, be careful!” protested Amy.

But Sonic shoved the whole cookie in his mouth without any regard for it’s temperature. He chewed bravely through the heat, only stopping once to suck in a gulp of air.

“Boys,” Amy sighed as she found a safe spot for the tray.

When he finished, Sonic’s eyes were bright with happy surprise.

“Whoa, I taste delicious!”

By the time Amy’s brain had registered his wording and indirect praise, a furious blush had already overtaken her cheeks.

Flustered, she tried to cover it by fussing with the oven mitts and reaching for a cookie herself.

“R-really? Let me try!”

She blew on it, then tried a bite from the cooled area. Her jade eyes lit up at the subtle sweetness and soft texture.

“You really are delicious!” Amy echoed Sonic’s words without thinking, and turned to the blue hedgehog with a smile, excited with her success.

Her breath caught when she noticed that Sonic was already looking at her, with not only a surprised expression but a soft redness spread across his muzzle.

A few moments stretched by as they stared at each other.

Sonic was the first to avert his eyes, reaching a hand back into his quills.

“Ah, heh, they taste just fine without any frosting. Are you gonna leave them like that?”

Amy snapped back to herself, and gave a little laugh.

“No way, silly!”

Amy quickly gathered all that she needed to begin mixing up small batches of different-colored icing. Then she filled some piping bags with each color and started decorating the little hedgehog heads – white for the eye area, a peach muzzle and inner ears, and the rest filled in with the well-known shade of blue. She did one color at a time on all of the cookies so that the colors wouldn’t mix, expertly squeezing out just enough icing for each tiny area. A carefully-placed chocolate sprinkle for each nose, and two green ones for the eyes completed the little treats.

Sonic had settled back into a chair to wait as she worked. At first he seemed bored, sitting loosely with his chin resting on his palm. By the time Amy had neared the last of the colors on the last of the cookies, he was watching closely, looking mesmerized.

“Y'know, I never realized before,�� Sonic began. “I mean, for something I’m just gonna chew up in a few seconds, that’s a lot of work.”

Amy smiled softly, not looking up as she added the finishing touches on another cookie. “It doesn’t feel like work to me. I love baking, and I love trying to get all the details just right.”

The pink hedgehog was so absorbed in her decorating that she didn’t quite hear the “hmm,” from Sonic, nor notice the thoughtful look on his face.

She had nearly worked her way through all three dozen cookies, with only two left waiting for some blue icing, when the clatter of a dish suddenly caught her attention. She looked up to find Sonic had gotten up and was now rummaging around in a cabinet.

“Sonic?”

He turned, and had in his hand what he seemed to have been looking for – a small bowl similar to the ones that held the different icings.

“Uh, any of that plain white frosting left?” he asked.

Amy looked over to the large bowl where she had mixed together the original batch of icing. There was just about a cup left.

“Well, yes, but why –?”

Instead of answering, Sonic gently took the piping bag from her and put his hands on her shoulders, giving her a gentle nudge towards the kitchen doorway.

“You probably have some things to do to get ready for the party, right?” he said cheerfully. “Go ahead, I’ll handle things here!”

Amy resisted his nudge, glancing around at all the dirty bowls and spoons and general mess that accompanied a batch of baked goods. “But I have to –”

Sonic leaned around her and gave her a smile, one of the heart-meltingly charming ones. "C'mon Ames. I’m giving you a free pass here.“

It was true that Sonic didn’t offer himself up for cleaning services often. And she did have to freshen up and change dresses before Cream arrived…

"Well…okay,” Amy agreed. “But I won’t be long!”

A quick primp and a few outfit changes later (the red dress with the white fur trim? The green velvet pinafore? Or the candy cane print skirt? She couldn’t decide!), Amy returned to the kitchen. She was disappointed when Sonic was nowhere to be seen, but only slightly, as she’d been expecting it.

The sight of an amazingly clean kitchen almost made up for it. Even the dirty dishes had been washed.

As she drew near the table, she noticed an unusual cookie – a very pink one – sitting near all the others, with a slip of paper underneath it.

In a familiar scrawl, the note read:

“Amy - Just thought you deserved one of your own. Definitely harder than you made it look, but I hope you like it anyway! P. S. I took an extra for Tails! He loves your cookies!”

By the time she had reached the end of the note, where Sonic had signed his name alongside a little doodle of his head, Amy’s face felt warm with another blush.

She couldn’t help but smile at the cookie Sonic had decorated. The spiky, Sonic-style quills had been broken off and rearranged more closely around the face, resembling her own quillstyle. The icing on them was a rosy pink beneath the jaunty red holiday hat.

Some of the colors were smudged together and the eye sprinkles were a little uneven (not to mention the edible glitter that Sonic had somehow found and sprinkled generously), giving the cookie the appearance of something Cream might have decorated by herself, but Amy’s heart couldn’t have been happier.

Sonic had made something just for her.

On a whim, she took one of the Sonic cookies and set it close to the Amy one, so that their little sprinkle noses were touching.

There, she thought. Perfect.

The doorbell chimed, and, practically aglow with love and cheer, Amy went to answer it.

#gift #submission #spadeyque #sonamy #amy rose #sonic the hedgehog

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unchartedterritoria · 7 years ago

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Dangerous (Sam Drake x OC) - Chapter 9

In case you don’t want to read it here, it can also be found on A03:

Dangerous Chapter 9 A03 Link

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 * Chapter 2 * Chapter 3 * Chapter 4 * Chapter 5 * Chapter 6 * Chapter 7 * Chapter 8

Thanks to everyone that has read it so far! Also, comments and feedback are always appreciated. If you wish to be tagged for new chapters, let me know!

“Turn left here, here!”

Remy had led Faith and Sam back to the SUV and, with his directions, steered them to the other side of downtown Springfield, Illinois, close to the capital building. Remy directed Sam down a quiet one-way side street off the busy main road that held the bulk of the afternoon traffic. After passing a crumbling pay per hour parking lot, they approached a large, pale pink colonial house with green shutters and looking entirely out of place. It had a huge front porch complete with columns and a large community garden in place of what used to be the property's backyard.

“Here we go, pull around the back,” Remy said, pointing between the seats.

“Ok, yeah, ok,” Sam grumbled. He was never good at taking directions from people. Young, old, government authority, civilian, didn't matter, didn't like it one bit.

He pulled the car around the back of the large house, parking in what looked like a small gravel lot that was shared by the house and by the owners of the plots in the community garden.

“Remy whose house is this?” Faith asked, her nose to the window as she looked around. Sam put the car in park next to a pair of dumpsters shared by the two properties as well. Remy jumped out of the car excitedly, slamming the door behind him and rushing up the wheelchair ramp attached to the back door. Faith and Sam sauntered behind him, much like they had done since arriving in Springfield and meeting Remy.

"My god, he's like a puppy!" Faith exclaimed to Sam, leaning in close to him in the hopes that Remy wouldn't hear and be offended at her observation. Sam raised the corner of his mouth in a goofy, half grin.

"He's just a kid. You think this is bad; you shoulda seen him at 13 when he was just a pipsqueak."

Faith knitted her brows together in confusion. “Since when is 13 a pipsqueak?” She inquired.

“Since I hit puberty and became taller than the rest of the 13-year-olds in the world,” He said coolly.

“You're an ass,” She said half laughing.

“You're not just figuring that out, are ya sweetheart?”

They walked toward the back of the house where Remy waited impatiently. He stuck a hand into the pouch of his hoodie and pulled out a red gummy worm. He popped the end into his mouth, peering through side windows and staking out the immediate area around them.

"Remy, seriously, where the hell are we?" A tired note was creeping into Faith's voice as she asked again.

“This is the Edwards Place. Elizabeth went and married into this big powerful family. All her in-laws were like, Illinois big shots. Her father-in-law was one of the first Governors and Congressmen. He was Governor when it was still a freakin' territory. Her husband was attorney general for the state, and her brother-in-law’s were all lawyers or something impressive like that. I still think it's funny that Elizabeth went and married into this crazy powerful family probably thinking, 'Oh I'm so great, look at me, I married the Attorney General.' and then her sister comes along and is like, 'Watch this bitch,' and goes and marries the president,” Remy cackled wildly, the rest of his gummy worm now clamped between his teeth.

“Jesus kid,” Sam said with a snarky laugh.

“Ok, cause all these famous Sand suckers lived here, they went and turned the house into like, a museum. Before they did that though, we had a diary from Mary Todd Edwards in our inventory. Then, once they opened up, the Edwards family proved provenance so they took possession of it and it got moved over here,” Remy explained.

“So, let us in then,” Faith said.

“I can't. If it’s a historical state building, I got keys. This place is privately owned by some non-profit. That’s where Sam comes in,” Remy said, turning towards him as another gummy worm magically appeared out of his hoodie and into his mouth.

“Get us in? C'mon Remy, I thought you had a challenge for me!” Sam boasted. He backed away from the house and examined the outer structure, mentally trying to create a path from the ground to a window on the top floor that looked to be open a crack. He took out his coin and flipped it around in his palm, the Sam Drake equivalent of clicking a clicky pen over and over to help him think. Faith and Remy watched Sam curiously.

“They don't have a security system or nothin.”

"Yeah ok," Sam replied, still staring at the outside. His coin was going end over end over his knuckles. He stalked to the dumpster and grabbed it by the edge, hoping to move it closer to the building.

“Sam.”

“What?”

“You just have to pick the lock, you don't have to go all parkour dude,” Remy said, glancing up the side of the building.

“It's ok, all I have to do is climb on top of the dumpster, jump over to the garage roof, make my way across those two window ledges, -” He explained until Faith's growing laughter caused him to stop.

“What?” Sam asked.

“Oh my god. You can't pick a lock, can you?” Faith asked, barely getting the question out before bursting out laughing again. Sam slipped his coin back in his pocket and crossed his arms in front of himself defensively, his dark green jacket pulled hard against his shoulders.

"Look, -" Sam started to explain, only to be interrupted again by Faith, who found this little tidbit downright hysterical.

“No way man, really?” Remy questioned, unable to comprehend this thought. Faith put a hand on Remy's shoulder, leaning her head against him for support during her fit of giggles.

"Alright, so I can't pick a lock. It's never stopped me. I still get in, and I always get what I came for. Always.” He said with a smug look on his face. Faith regained her composure, wiping away the wet trails the tears from her laughter with the sleeve of her jacket. She turned and headed back towards the rear door of the house, her hand rooting in the inner pocket of her coat. She pulled a small, soft leather case from her jacket. Adjusting the back of her jeans, she squatted down in front of the door, her eye line level with that of the brass doorknob. Sam and Remy walked towards the door, curious about what exactly Faith was doing. Faith slipped two slim tools out of the lock pick kit and slid each one into the keyhole on the doorknob slowly. Remy watched her in a giddy amazement; he had never seen a lock actually picked before, there wasn't much use for breaking and entering in the field of academia. Sam crouched down next to Faith who was still intently working on the lock, gently sliding and turning the tools by the resistance she felt.

“You can pick locks?” He asked in a quiet voice, trying to keep his surprise tone to a minimum.

“A handy byproduct of a misspent youth,” Faith said, wiggling the bottom metal arm.

“You've been holding out on me. Makes me wonder what else you know how to do,” he questioned suggestively. Faith felt the bottom tool slip into place and turned them both at the same time. The door clicked as the lock disengaged.

"Wait 'til you see me with cherry stems," She whispered to him with a wink before standing up. Sam bit his bottom lip as a thousand pictures flashed in his brain, most of them downright dirty as sin. He ran a hand through his hair as he stood up as if it would help dissipate some of the thoughts in his head. Faith quietly turned the doorknob and opened it a crack.

"No one should be here, right?" She said softly. He shook his head no. Faith stood up and opened the door the rest of the way slowly, stowing her tools back inside her jacket. Stepping inside, she was still cautious of making too much noise. Sam followed close behind her with Remy on his heels. They entered what looked like at one point was a small mud room that looked to now be used as an employee entrance. Sam looked around the corner and up the back stairs towards the second floor.

“You know where the book is Remy?” Sam asked.

“Probably like a bedroom on the second floor in one of the displays.”

“Ok, you stay here. Keep a look out for anything.”

"What? Oh, come on dude!" Remy whined angrily, his face utterly crestfallen.

“Just stay here, alright?” Sam said, not really in the mood to embrace the teenager whiny attitude, even if it was coming from Remy.

“Fine...douche,” He resigned sullenly, leaning against the hardwood frame of the doorway to the rest of the house.

Faith and Sam made their way upstairs, still taking care not to make too much noise. The stairway was lined with detailed painted portraits in dark wood frames of what Faith was sure was different generations of Edwards men. The top floor was all hardwood, crown molding, and flowered wallpaper. Things like ornate chairs and side tables were cordoned off by velvet ropes, as well as some of the bedrooms along the hallway that ran the whole length of the house. Sam ran a hand over a cherry table with grapevines carved into its sturdy legs.

"Hm, bet this would be worth a penny or two," His rough hand over the vines and shook a leg for good measure to check for stability.

“Hey! Focus, not what we came for!” Faith hissed at him.

“I know, I know, but it'd make a great parting gift,” He said, already picturing its lot number at an auction.

Faith let out a sigh of disgust. Bastard, money hungry bastard! And I flirted with him downstairs! What the hell is wrong with me, I should get my ass examined. Cause that's where my head is, square up my own ass! Faith thought as frustration with herself built within her head. Nope, no more flirting. No matter how good he smells. Eyes on the prize, find the book. She continued left down the hallway towards a large wardrobe at the end of the hall, open and displaying different pieces of period clothing. She stopped in front of the doorway to her right. Inside was a bedroom that looked straight out of the 1800's. Desk, sitting chair, bed, all look like they belonged there, despite the 'NO FLASH PHOTOGRAPHY PERMITTED' signs.

"Sam," Faith called for him. He walked down the hallway towards her, his heavy boots thumping against the runners atop the hardwood floor. Coming up behind her, he followed her into the room. She made a beeline for the roll top desk positioned in the corner of the bedroom, some part of her knowing what they were seeking would be there. The diary sat next to its own little placard, telling the interested masses what it was and who it belonged to. This was it.

Faith stood motionless, staring at the diary, frozen in place while a sudden internal conflict began to rage inside her head. If I take this, I'm a thief; I'm a criminal. I know I already broke in, but this seems so much worse! This is outright theft!

“Hey,” Sam said, putting his large, strong hand on her shoulder, snapping Faith back to the moment at hand.

“Yeah?”

“You alright?”

“Yeah, just, I'm not a person that does illegal things.”

“Says the woman with the lock picks,” He said, his head tilted and hazel eyes staring at her accusingly.

“That was a long time ago, that was breaking into places for shits and giggles, this is theft!” Her voice whispered as if she was cursing in church.

“Well, it's a good thing I'm a thief then,” Sam said back in the same hushed mocking tone while he reached past her and grabbed the diary from atop the desk. Faith watched as he closed the book and stowed it in the back waistband of his jeans and straightened his jacket over it, hiding it from view. With that quick move, it was as if the world turned from black and white to bright neon and everything was suddenly real. No more talking about it, no more just researching for kicks, no more 'just a simple road trip,' this was happening, and despite her momentary question of morality, it made her feel fucking fantastic and more alive than she had felt since her mother had died.

Sam headed back down the hallway, Faith on his heels. She felt exhilarated, but she was still anxious to get the hell out of there and not get caught. Remy looked up the stairway from the main floor where he had stayed put, despite his protests.

“Did ya get it?” He asked excitedly.

"Got it, let's go," Sam answered as he strode toward the door, ushering Remy and Faith out first. He closed the door, locked it behind him and stalked towards the car, trying not to draw any attention to the three of them if there was anyone around. As Sam unlocked the car, he pulled the diary from the back of his pants. He might not have the same anal need to preserve artifacts like Nathan did, but he figured sitting on it while he drove would not only be a bad idea but would be very uncomfortable. Sam handed the diary off to Remy's outstretched hands, sure that was the best place for it. Sam turned the key, and the engine roared to life. Almost euphoric at this point, Faith looked out her window, darting her eyes in every direction, anxious to make sure nothing looked hinky. The sun bright and reflecting off the puddles from the morning's rain, Sam sped out of the parking lot and down the one-way street, running over the cubed gum wrappers as he went by.

Sam skidded to a stop in front of the lobby of the motel chain they decided on to be their base camp for the night while they were in Springfield. Sam shifted the car into park and slid out of the driver's seat.

“Stay here, I'll grab a room,” He said, slamming the car door behind him, causing Faith to give a tiny jump.

"For someone dealing in antiques, he's sure not very gentle," She muttered to herself. She pivoted in her seat towards Remy, who held the diary open in one hand and his phone in the other. A gummy worm as green as his hair hung crooked out the side of his mouth. The flashlight feature from the cell phone lit the diary, giving Remy some extra light as the daylight faded quickly underneath the growing clouds.

“How you doing Remy?” Faith asked.

“Pretty fucking awesome,” He stated very matter of fact. He sucked the rest of the gummy worm into his mouth and smiled at Faith.

"Alright, the entries start in 1875. Mary died in 1882, and the diary looks like it goes til around like, June of the next year. That's when she lived with her sister so we should, hopefully, be able to find something."

After a few minutes, Sam walked out of the lobby with three room keys, handing one each to Remy and Faith as he got in the car. Parking in the far corner of the poorly lit lot, they grabbed their gear and headed towards the last room on the ground floor. Sam was pleased to see the room next to theirs empty as they walked over the cracked sidewalk; That meant more privacy, which was never a bad thing to have too much of. Faith opened the door with her keycard and flicked on the light. It had looked exactly as Sam's had the night she stayed with him, only this one had a couch and an uncomfortable looking high-backed armchair. Remy set the journal on the table and plopped down in one of its chairs, face still glued to the front of his phone. Faith dropped her backpack next to the bed and flung herself back on it with a sigh. She felt as if she hadn't had a decent sleep in days since she had found that damn Bible and the lack of a bed for the last 48 hours was starting to weigh on her eyelids and her back. She closed her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose with her thumbs.

“Alright, food should be here in like half an hour,” Remy announced, plopping his phone down on the table. Faith sat up and looked at him, puzzled.

“Didn’t I just see you eat three corn dogs?”

“Yeah.”

Sam’s cell phone vibrated audibly in his jacket pocket. He fished it out quickly, double checking the incoming number. Nathan.

“And didn’t you just eat a bunch of gummy worms?” Faith said, continuing her questioning. She glanced at Sam questioningly. He held up a finger and opened the metal door of the motel and stepped outside.

“I need real food, candy is like, just a food substitute. I’m a growing boy you know,” Remy answered, the last thing Sam heard as he shut the door behind him and pressed green button on his phone.

“Hey little brother,” He said holding the phone up to his ear while he rooted into his jacket pocket for his smokes.

"Hey, Sam. How you making out in Illinois? Any luck?" Nathan asked.

“Remy got us a starting point. We’ll see where we end up.”

“Keep him out of trouble alright? He’s a good kid.”

“C’mon, trouble? Me? Never,” Sam said, exhaling a plume of smoke.

“I’m serious Sam. I heard Jasper still has Arthur Bixby sniffing around for you and Faith so watch yourselves. You remember what he’s like, “Nathan warned him.

“Motherfucker,” Sam muttered to himself.

"Gimme the phone," Sam heard a gruff voice say in the background on Nathan's end of the line. Sam leaned on beige metal railing that ran along the edge of the building, the cold metal biting into his forearms as he held the phone in place with his shoulder. He heard the phone being shuffled between parties. He waited patiently, smoking his cigarette while Nathan and Sully bickered, Sully finally winning with the phrase, ‘Just hand me the goddamn phone!' Sam took one final drag of his cigarette, burning it down to the filter.

“Sam,”

“Victor,” Sam said, grinding the butt of his smoke into the pavement with the heel of his dark gray boot. “Recouping at Nate and Elena’s?”

"Believe me; it's not by choice. How's it going?"

“Alright so far, Remy got us somewhere to start.”

“You heard what Nate said about Bixby?” Sully questioned, a hint of warning in his voice.

“Yeah I heard, I’ll watch my back,” Sam agreed half-heartedly. He still wasn’t convinced that Jasper Nox would have anyone watching them.

“Don’t bullshit a professional bullshitter Sam. You need to watch your back, watch Faith’s back,” Sully urged him.

“Why you got me lookin’ out for this girl, Victor?”

"Cause I asked you to," Sully replied, hoping to shut him down quickly.

“Is she important, I mean, is she your kid or something? Why you got me doing this?”

“Sam, please, just do this one goddamn favor for me without asking any questions, alright?” Sully said as anger and frustration boiled over in him quickly.

“Alright, alright. I got it.”

“How is she?”

“Faith? She’s fine,” Sam answered.

“She’s fine?” Sully repeated accusingly.

“Yeah, she’s fine. She’s good.” Sam assured him.

“Sam.”

“What?”

“Don’t do it.”

“What are you talkin about?” Sam questioned.

"I'm talking about keeping it in your pants Samuel. That's what I'm talking about."

“Awe Jesus Sullivan, gimme a little more credit than that,” Sam said,

“I’m serious.”

“Okay,” Sam said, making sure the sarcasm dripped from every letter.

“Leave this one alone Samuel, it won’t lead anywhere good,” Sully warned him; The words that he had already heard Sully say to him in his head, now hearing them aloud, sent a chill down his spine. What the fuck is up with this girl? He thought to himself.

"Alright, alright, Victor, I got it," Sam acquiesced. Sam looked across the lot, a small red sedan covered in rust puttered into the large parking lot, its sides plastered with magnetic signs of what Sam assumed could only be the local pizza joint.

“Gotta go. I’ll be in touch.”

“Watch yourselves out there.”

"Will do," Sam said, snapping the phone closed. First, it was take care of her; then it was protect her, now it's keep it in my pants? Fuck that; I promised one and two. I didn't make any damn promises about being celibate. You want me to take care of her? I’ll take care of her, my way. The whole Samuel Drake package, full fucking service if the moment presents itself, Sam thought to himself smiling as he dug a small wad of cash out of the front pocket of his jeans.

#sam drake x oc #samuel drake x oc #OC X Sam Drake #dangerous #sam drake fanfiction #my writing

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janeykath318 · 7 years ago

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Kiss, Marry, Kill: Kirk x Reader

It all started as a joke: someone in the security department had done the Kiss, Marry, Kill, game with certain co workers and it had started to spread, even down to Medbay, where various nurses could be heard debating the merits of Scotty, Uhura, and even Chekov. The Captain ended up overhearing while he was getting patched up one day and you knew you were all doomed.

"So, Nurse Y/L/N, how am I faring on the lists down here? Did I make it on a lot of people's Kiss list?" "I hate to break it to you, captain," you told him, mirth dancing in your eyes, "you're actually leading in the Kill category. Dr. McCoy in particular was very vocal in his choice." "Of course he would," Kirk sighed, rolling his far too pretty eyes. "I did think some of you liked me better than that." He made a sad puppy face that was next to impossible to resist, especially for you who secretly had it bad for him. "Maybe if you wouldn't be in here so much, we wouldn't be so sick of you, captain," you said mischievously. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder, you know." "So, if I stayed perfectly healthy, you'd respect me more?" He asked, half teasingly. "Possibly," you hinted. "Maybe acting less like a child when you're getting hypos would help too. Just a tip." You winked at him and walked out to get the doctor, leaving Jim staring after you, torn between being insulted and in love. The next few days, the Kiss, Marry, Kill theme seemed to really spread over the ship. In fact, someone in the bridge crew announced there would be a contest for people to submit their Kiss, Marry, Kill choices, (among the single officers) along with written out reasons to be judged by Uhura and Sulu. Those with the best reasoning for their picks would get to have dinner with the officer of their dreams. You rolled your eyes and wondered just how desperate the Captain was to be liked. "No way am I doing this!" You declared. It's utter childish nonsense!" "Oh, c'mon, Y/N, I thought you'd jump at the chance to go out with that corn-fed menace of a Captain you have a crush on," teased Dr. McCoy, hearing your rant. "Oh, puh-leeze," you snorted. "I don't have a crush on him. Just because I made one comment about his eyes once, does not mean I'm all lovey-dovey, lovestruck over him. Heck, even YOU admit he has gorgeous eyes, and you certainly have no romantic feelings for him." "Oh, there's a very big difference, Y/N. You haven't seen yourself when he comes in here. You're practically bowling over the other nurses to get to him." "I do not," you sulked. "Do I, Christine?" "Well......" she tried to hedge, and you put your hands on your hips, outraged at the lack of support. You pretended to utterly ignore the whole contest, but the endless chatter about Jim vs. Scotty vs. Leonard drove you up the wall, especially the guys in medical who talked about him like he was a piece of meat, ripe for the tasting. You hoped they were all horrible writers. Jim deserved better! At last, you got an idea. It would probably not win the contest, but it would make you feel better. You sat down after shift and started writing. Kiss, Marry, Kill, by Y/N Y/L/N Kiss: James T. Kirk Reason: 1. To shut him up when he drones on and on about the wonders of space 2. Those lips are too perfect 3. My gut tells me he's really good at it. Marry: James T. Kirk Reason: Because I worship the ground he walks on and he might be less of a reckless fool if he had a spouse to remind him how much he has to live for and how loved and needed he is. I’d love to pick that genius brain. Also: captain's quarters come with real water showers, a big plus. Kill: (Hypothetically, of course) James T. Kirk Reason: He's a aggravation to the nth degree. Examples include: Frequent Injuries, extreme stubbornness, Those ridiculous stupid smiles he gives that could cause dangerous heart arrhythmia, his bluer than blue eyes that cause people to lose their concentration when he looks at them, and the terrible dad jokes he cracks that he thinks are so funny and laughs so hard at. Despite being pleased at managing to refrain from mentioning Jim's other positive attributes (that ass!), you wavered back and forth before you finally sent in your entry. You'd kind of bared your heart, after all. However, Sulu and Uhura were both very good at respecting people's privacy and they wouldn't spill your secrets. Besides, the chances of you winning were very low, if not impossible, given that you'd used the same name for every slot. At last, however, you hit send, and went to bed very relieved. You'd almost forgotten about the whole thing by the time the winners were announced three weeks later and when you got a message declaring "Congratulations, Lieutenant Y/L/N, you were selected as a winner in our shipwide contest. Your entry was chosen as the best among those who put Captain James T. Kirk in the Kiss or Marry options." You stopped reading right then and there and began mentally freaking out. You'd only entered as a joke and a fun way to relieve your feelings. Guess they'd taken you seriously. Could you back out without looking like an idiot? Surely, the runner up would be more than happy to take your place. During lunch the next day, the winners were announced over the intercom by Sulu. You didn't know where to look when your name was read and all your friends turned to stare at you. (Thankfully, McCoy had other things to worry about, since someone had won dinner with him.) "Congratulations, Y/N!" Christine said, a pleased grin on her face. "I'll gladly offer my services to help you get ready for your date with the Captain." Your face felt like it was burning up, more so when you saw Jim Kirk ambling over to your table. "Hi, Captain," you muttered, wishing you could sink through the floor. "Nurse Y/L/N! This is a happy coincidence!" Kirk exclaimed, walking up to you, with that disgustingly contagious smile on his face. "How so?" You managed, even more nervous in his presence. "I've been trying to get up the courage to ask you out anyway." "Me?!!" You squeaked. "Of course you. You do know you're my favorite nurse, right?" "No......" you said slowly, processing this information. Jim liked you? Really? Surely it was too good to be true! "Yes, you are," he said firmly. "So, Are you going to claim your prize?" There went that cheeky expression again. "Insufferable egoist," Len muttered, rolling his eyes. "Of course she is!" Christine said for you. "Name the date, place and time, and she'll be there." While you were spluttering, they determined the dinner would take place in the small observation deck the next Friday at 1900 hours. "Great!" Jim exclaimed, "We'll see you then! Have a nice day, Y/N." "Traitor!" You hissed weakly to Christine, but the butterflies of anticipation dancing in your gut said differently. "Trust me, you'll thank me later. I wouldn't have done this If I didn't think he really cares about you," she told you. She did come through on her promise to help you prepare for the big date, and before you knew it, you were all dolled up in a green dress and cute updo style Christine saw in a magazine and thought would look perfect on you. "There! You look stunning!" She said at last, stepping back and inspecting you carefully. You smiled and gulped. "Let's hope the Captain thinks so, too." "Oh, he will," she assured you. "Now, shoo, have a good time!" More nervous than you'd ever been, you made your way to the agreed upon room, where Jim was waiting for you. Having rarely seen him in anything besides his uniform or a hospital gown, you were taken aback by the sight of him in a blue dress shirt and tie. "Wow!" You breathed. He cleaned up GOOD. "Wow, yourself," Jim returned. "You look amazing." "Thanks," you said, face warm with the compliment. "This was really nice of you to play along, but What if Cupcake had won?" Jim laughed. "I'd still hang out with him, but He's only likely to put me on the Kill list. Trust me, I'm not his type AT ALL." As the two of you devoured the food, which was very tasty, he asked you about what you'd written. "I actually didn't think I'd be considered eligible," you told him, "given how I made cases for why I'd want to kiss, marry, AND kill you. Somehow, it was rather cathartic." "I seem to inspire that reaction a lot," Jim said ruefully, buttering a roll. "Glad you came, though. So, tell me, what's life like working in Bones's domain? I hear he can be a bear at times." "Oh, he can," you confirmed. "You just have to use common sense and know how to placate him. He's a good boss, but he doesn't suffer fools." "That's very true," Jim said. "He's said several times that next to Chapel, you're the best nurse on Alpha shift." "He said that?" You asked, flustered again. "Yes, he did," Jim said. "And I think you're pretty awesome too--both as a nurse and a person." "Wow, You really are a smooth talker," you said, raising an eyebrow. "Let's see if you're still saying that once you've got to know me and my quirks some more." "Does this mean you're willing to go on more dates?" He asked, looking hopeful. "As long as this one ends as well as it started, definitely." "What do you say to this?" He asked, pulling the cover off of a plate containing two lovely slices of chocolate cake with caramel filling peeking out. "Poke cake?" You gasped. The man had done his research--this was your absolute favorite indulgence. The white frosting on top covered the caramel glaze that oozed down through holes poked in the cake and made it deliciously gooey and decadent. "Indeed. Made special by real people: not replicators." Jim looked extremely pleased with himself, eyes darting back and forth between you and the cake. Picking up Jim's hand, you kissed it dramatically. "My hero!" You explained in a staged breathy sigh. "That'll do the trick all right. The shyness disappeared along with the cake and you and Jim ended up laughing and talking and flirting until a late hour. "So, see you again soon?" He asked, when he walked you to your door. "Of course. Hopefully NOT in sickbay, though." You poked him meaningfully in the chest, then leaned up and kissed his cheek. "Goodnight, Jim." "Goodnight, Y/N" he replied staring after you with what Christine would have called "heart eyes."

@whatif-animagineblog @yourtropegirl @kirkaholic123 @southernbellestatues

@kaitymccoy123

#WhatIf-Birthday2k17 #my fics #birthday challenge #kirk x reader #James T. Kirk #reader insert #hope you enjoy it!

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solarbird · 7 years ago

Text

The Armourer and the Living Weapon, Chapter 10: she even got me, once

This chapter is worksafe.

[AO3 link]

"Are you ready?" asked Oilliphéist, over audio-only comms.

"I am," replied Widowmaker.

"Château," said Emily.

"Châteauneuf-du-Pape," responded the sniper.

"Vaucluse."

"Signal de Saint-Pierre."

"Lavande."

"What're they doing?" asked Winston, quietly, leaning to Lena, as the two assassins continued to exchange words.

"They did this before, Widow explained it to me," the teleporter replied, leaning to Winston, equally quiet. "It's a kind of integrity check? It's a series of trigger words that key other words. It changes on its own, over time, so if one or two words change, it's no big deal, right? But if it changes a lot, quickly - somebody's mucked with her."

The scientist nodded. "Handy, given where they came from. Emily's English, though - why's it all in French?"

Lena just shrugged, focusing on the word series. The sequence sounded the same as before, to her, but she wasn't entirely sure - she'd tried to remember the list, but there were so many words. She heard Emily say, "Livraison," and immediately thought, Metro.

"Metro," said Widowmaker, and Lena smiled.

"Centre météorologique canadien," replied Oilliphéist.

"Armoiries."

"Exactly the same as last time."

"Your side, as well," said the spider, "to my distinct relief."

"So," said Lena, "you both basically... check out?"

Widowmaker nodded. "Yes. I wish you had this facility, as well. It is... reassuring."

"Talon didn't build that into you, did they." It wasn't a question. "I wouldn't think they'd want you t'know."

"Spot on," said Emily, over comms. "I think it's a side-effect. We found it ourselves, in her, first - and now I have it, too!"

"Nothin' personal, but if the ability to checksum my brain comes only as part of gettin' my brain rebuilt, I'll opt out."

Widowmaker allowed her lover a small smile. "Understandable."

"Em, you still hiding out at the safehouse?"

"Yes, and it's incredibly dull. Have you talked to Overwatch's council yet?"

"About to - we wanted to check in with you, first. Let you know we were alive."

"I do appreciate that - but Aunt Moira's getting pretty impatient."

"Yeah, well, she can wait - this is our first day out of quarantine. We'll be meeting up after lunch."

"I'll tell her you're out of Overwatch jail, at least... oh! How is, um, the cowboy?"

"Embarrassed," said the defector. "Deservedly."

"Don't be mad at him," Emily replied over comms, "Auntie's good with those darts. They're self-guided. She even got me, once!"

"Before, or after?" asked Widowmaker.

A laugh, over comms. "Before, obviously. But still."

"She wouldn't get me now," said Tracer, as Widowmaker nodded in agreement. "Nor me, I think," her lover added.

A giggle. "I'm pretty sure she'd love another chance to practice those upgrades, if he wanted to come by..."

"No," interrupted Tracer, firmly. "Now that we've checked in - we've got some prep work to do on this end, and I need to get some workout time with those pistols you made."

Widowmaker agreed, humming quietly. "Cherie, do you mind? We will contact you again after the meeting."

"I'll be waiting. And tell me how it goes, on the range! I'm so glad to hear your voices again - both of you."

"I know," replied the sniper, eyes half-closed, "it is the same, for me."

"Oilliphéist out."

"Widowmaker out."

"I don't remember giving you clearance for your pistols," Dr. Ziegler said, sternly, as the comms went quiet.

Tracer shook her hands. "C'mon, doc, we've both been locked up for days. I know I need a workout."

"As do I," noted the spider.

"You must have something we can use..."

"This is a research facility, not an Overwatch station. We have a weights room, which you are both welcome to use, but we have nothing like you're requesting." The doctor considered. "Fareeha uses a Helix Security facility when here, perhaps," she thumbed her comm. "Perhaps we can work something out. I'll be right back." She walked to her private office, and the two women talked, quietly, over comms, for a few minutes, before returning.

"Good news; we have a site. She'll meet us there," said the scientist. "No sniper rounds, I'm sorry. But we do have clearance for pistols, supervised, as long as they're kept unloaded outside the range."

The assassin shrugged. "I could, I suppose, limber up with my chain, and re-establish targeting. It is better than nothing."

"Yeah, love," smiled her partner. "Maybe you can even keep up with me now!"

A derisive snort. "I always could."

An hour later, Tracer jinked from target to target, faster than ever, four to five teleports at a time. This is... this is wizard, she thought, as she unloaded entire clips into targets in patterns - smiley faces, outlines of airplanes, her initials, whatever came to mind.

Widowmaker watched from a level above, tracking her lover with her empty Kiss, and finding it difficult at first - until her own quickness started to settle in, overriding old habits, old limits, and as it did, she purred. Ooh la la, she thought. This is better. This is... this is wonderful.

Pharah, in turn, watched from above, astonished at their raw speed, occasionally exchanging words with Winston over comms, Winston, who worried - deeply - for them both.

-----

"So that's basically the situation," Lena explained. "We can intervene on one side of this civil war Talon's got going. If we pull it off, we tip the balance back to where it was before Akande got sprung. Moira continues to be terrifying and awful, Talon continues to be a pack of wankers - no offence, love..."

"None taken," replied Widowmaker. "I defected for reasons, after all."

"...but we stop Talon's attempt to start a Second Omnic Crisis. Millions of people - both omnic and human - don't die in the next couple of years just 'cause Doomfist and Reaper have some kind of fascist hard-on for 'struggle.' Both sides of Talon lose a lot, and come out weaker."

"And all Overwatch does is... stay out of the way?" Winston asked.

"Pretty much. I'd be the intermediary, and ... I'd be involved, up close, and unexpected. Mostly to protect Em and Wids - but not just."

"There are reasons I kept you out of Blackwatch, Lena," Morrison said.

"Think I'm not suited for it, then?" she glared just a little, copper eyes glinting.

"Too well suited for it. It's corrosive. You saw what it did to Rayes."

"Someone from Overwatch has to see what happens, dad. Unless you just wanna take their word on it."

"Preventing another war has to come first," said Mei-Ling. "The data I have is all very bad. I do not think the ecosystem could handle another conflict like the last one! There is already so much damage, and everything is so unstable now... another war like the last one would push us over several different edges, the results would be catastrophic. Millions dead is far too low an estimate."

Angela nodded. "I have served as a wartime medic and surgeon in enough wars. If we could preempt one - particularly one so large as that..." She shook her head.

"Not to mention, with Talon busy, we could really go to work on Vishkar," added Lúcio, no longer in Brazil, but at the table, stopping by while on tour. "With an Architech on our side, pointing out where we should investigate - we could do a lot of real good while Talon's busy having their little showdown."

"It's almost too good." Hana frowned, skepticism in her voice. "If I saw this in a game, I'd be all 'ha ha no not fallin' for that, n00b.'"

Lena nodded. "Too right. We'd have to be on the lookout for some kinda betrayal at every point."

"Sure," the Korean replied. "But - we're missing something. And here you are, talking about working with" - she gestured at the smirking French Talon agent, who had the sense not to talk about her finest kills - "Mondatta's assassin..."

"I'm already sleeping with her, luv, this isn't a big step," Lena snipped, shifting the rifle on her back, just a little. She missed her new pistols already - but the Kiss being there helped.

"...and maybe she got better, okay, but you're siding up with the mad scientist who made her, and her crazy niece, all to pick a side in their civil war? I'm not the only one seeing bait here, am I?"

"No," said Morrison. "You're not."

"Not trying isn't an option, though," said Mei-Ling.

Oxton nodded, and sighed. "I'm not sayin' I don't see the possible traps. I do. At best, it's messy and it's awful, but I ... I know that Mondatta would want this war stopped. He'd care about how, it would matter, but most of all, he wouldn't want this war to happen."

"And we're not just going after both sides, because...?"

"Because that is probably the one thing that would force them to mend their fences," interjected the blue assassin. "They would go back to working together, rather than fighting each other."

"Nothin' creates alliances like a common enemy," added Lena.

"I still don't like it," said the Meka pilot. She turned to Dr. Ziegler. "I don't care what you think about her personally, doc, but as far as I can tell, Moira's a psychopath." She heard Lena snicker, to her right.

"I never said she wasn't," replied the Swiss woman. "Many psychopaths are personable, when they want to be."

"If she decides she wins by turning on us, she will," Song insisted.

"Absolutely," Lena agreed. "That'll have to be in every decision we make."

"It will be," insisted the soldier. "Assuming we're foolish enough to try this."

"We have to," insisted Dr. Zhou, again, before being interrupted by Lúcio, objecting, "I don't see how you can even think about working with her, after the way she grabbed you like that. No way I would."

"T'be honest, I'm scared of her. But... not even for a prize this big?"

Lúcio had to think about it, and didn't immediately answer.

"What if it would take down Vishkar?"

The DJ took a long, deep breath, and nodded, slowly once. "...yeah. Maybe."

"There y'go. That's why."

"We have to try," interjected Mei-Ling, again, with surprising vehemence. "Are none of you listening? If they are trying to start this war, if that is Doomfist and Reaper's plan, we have to try. We also have to tell every agency who will listen to us, so they can work against it as well."

Winston nodded, but Morrison and Song started to protest, but Dr. Zhou raised her voice over them, "Did you not hear me? The biosphere cannot take another Omnic war! Look, I have made projections." She threw a set of charts and graphs up over the centre of the conference table. "Carbon stability is only the start of it. Do you think the megastorms of 30 years ago were bad? I have been preparing a paper with the data collected while I was in cryogenic suspension. Imagine one covering half a hemisphere!"

She flipped another set of graphics up. "Now imagine 62-plus degree weather across North Africa, and 65-plus degrees in South Asia."

Another set. "Now imagine the oceans - barely recovering now - essentially devoid of life. There would be no recovery path."

Another set. "Here are agricultural projections. Ignoring war dead, we can project global crop collapses and multiple pandemics resulting from malnutrition and other knock-on effects. This projection - I would expect two to three billion dead. With extremely aggressive use of genetic modifications on a yearly basis, in a best-case scenario, we might cut it to one billion. The first year."

The room had grown silent as the reams of data had shuffled past. "The paper on which these projections are based is going to Nature next month for peer review, but I am confident of my numbers. Do you understand, now? Another Omnic war kills civilisation. Maybe the entire planet. For anyone biological, this war would be a death sentence."

She turned back to the copper-eyed Overwatch agent. "I'm sorry, Lena - if this is what he is trying to do, then Akande must be stopped. If there is any chance, any chance at all, you must take it."

"I... had no idea it was so bad," Oxton managed, after a few seconds.

"It isn't, now, but... it would be."

Morrison flipped through smaller versions of the images on his padd. Hana Song did the same. "Wow," she said, after a few minutes. "Okay, I guess... we have to."

"I think we do," Winston agreed. "The rest of us can dedicate ourselves to analysis - and to other actions against the more militant anti-Omnic groups. This is too important for a single approach. Governmental intervention is critical, but it will take them weeks or months to respond."

Lena frowned. She'd won, but it didn't feel like winning, not at all, as the weight of the situation fell on to her shoulders. "Then, I guess... we're in. We're doin' this."

"I'm sorry," said her best friend, as Morrison and Song both nodded their reluctant but clear assent. "I'm very much afraid we are."

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frosttreatment-blog · 8 years ago

Text

Log 2 - Intake

The following is a transcript from a recording, beginning at approximately 20 minutes into my weekly session with the Muriel Jenkins.

Having been unable to sleep every night this week, anticipating a moment again similar to what I experienced during dinner Sunday night, I spent a great deal of time pondering what steps I could take. Finding an inconspicuous recording app for my phone was a suitable use of my time waiting for Emma Frost to force herself into someone else’s mind, so that she may get a quote from me.

I spotted it as soon as it began during my afternoon appointment with Muriel. Mrs. Jenkins was in the middle of a story, an altercation with her daughter-in-law, when she suddenly went blank behind the eyes. By the time she was done readjusting her posture, I was already waiting for the RP dialect.

I did try to hide my outrage, my anxiety, my exhaustion in wanting to know what this game was that I was being forced to play. Most importantly, I stayed calm while reaching for my phone, to check the time as a reference for my next discussion point - when in actuality, I was turning said recorder app on.

____________________________________________________________________

DR: -irty[thirty] five minutes left in her session. You don’t think that’s unfair?

FROST: Oh please; I’m creating a false memory of her blathering on to you for another hour, before coming to the astute observation that she desperately wishes she could be the one married to her son. Homework for next week is to stop putting that reverse oedipus baggage on other-

DR: Ms. Frost.

FROST: Please, darling, you can call me Emma. No need for pretensions here.

DR: Funny you should say that, don’t you think?

FROST: Excuse me?

[silence]

DR: You know, many health professionals would agree that I would need to need to see you, in person, for a proper intake.

FROST: I’ll mail you a bloody picture, then. I think we can both agree that my situation calls for a level of…discretion. I would much rather project an image of myself wearing only the finest Oscar de la Renta for you to see instead of this wrinkled landscape, but…You’re immune to telepathy. Or so they say.

DR: My reputation has held up, I imagine.

FROST: Why? Because I’ve only tried reading your mind 4 times since this conversation began? Yes, you’re just as advertised. I can’t hear anything but ocean sounds in there.

DR: Oh, c'mon-

FROST: It’s true! Like listening to a sea shell. It’s rather calming, actually.

DR: …I like to think telepaths enjoy being around someone whose mind is closed off to them.

FROST: But then however do you blackmail them? [silence] FROST: See? I don’t need telepathy to know you’re waiting for me to tell you I’m joking.

DR: May I ask what your goal here is? Are you seeking treatment, or is this…part of some…

FROST: Grand scheme? As if I were some entendre-named Bond villain. Really doctor, I thought your bedside manner would be much better than this.

DR: Well in both our defenses, I’ll admit to considering you a far more serious threat than a Bond villain. I don’t think you can blame me for anticipating that the White Queen might have moving pieces at work

FROST: Flattery will get you nowhere. And for your information… [silence] FROST: Yes. I am looking for an intake. To begin seeing a therapist. To begin seeing you as my therapist, I’ve decided.

DR: Alright, and what are the circumstances surrounding your-

FROST: You can’t be serious.

DR: -I know the headlines. I also know you can’t always trust the news.

FROST: Would you look at that, Muriel has a lovely stash of airline liqueurs in her purse…

DR: Although when the news is–

[Frost opens Muriel Jenkins’s purse]

DR: Please, don’t make a patient of mine drink in session.

FROST: But it’s my favorite kind of drink. All the chemistry, none of the calories. I’ll just add a little, clearly already present, alcoholic’s guilt in her morning routine’s memory.

DR: Emma, I won’t talk to you if-

[Emma has Muriel Jenkins drink from one of her travel sized bottles]

FROST: You were saying; something about the news?

[silence]

DR: Reports…of you shooting down an aircraft full of human beings-

FROST: -INhuman beings, darling. And my god, how does anyone expect to get drunk off these? [Emma has Muriel take another drink.] FROST: Now, allow me to clarify something. Firstly, you *are a mutant, yes?

DR: Yes.

FROST: And I know from poking around your husband’s brain that he’s a mutant as well, among other things-

DR: Excuse me?

FROST: -So you’ll allow me to be candid with you, I’m sure, in asking you…Do you know what an Inhuman is?

DR: Ah…yes. Those with Kree ancestry born human, but affected by the Terrigen Mists by way of-

FROST: Very scholastic, but you know that’s not what I mean. Mutant-to-mutant, love. What is an Inhuman?

[Emma has Muriel take another drink.]

FROST: I’ll tell you what a mutant is. The next step. The future of our world. And hated, set aside as “other” because of it. Because of fear. An Inhuman, on the other hand, is a party that the pleural YOU can join! No messy ‘mutation’ to pile onto an already abysmal puberty, rather Terragenesis is the wonderful prize given for being otherwise completely mundane. A change you CHOOSE to become part of so there’s something to fill that deep deep void. Hate your job and wife and sodding kids? Well cross your fingers and pray your ancestors were experimented on by aliens, because you too can become a completely different person overnight! Sounds rather akin to Scientology, don’t you think?

[Emma has Muriel take another drink.]

DR: I’m hearing a lot of anger.

FROST: Oh ding-bloody-ding–These monsters have taken EVERYTHING from me! With everybody watching on slack-jawed and hypnotized by a royal sovereign’s PR machine! Those savages have a piece of my fucking body kept as a TROPHY!

DR: I…feel your…frustrations; obviously. My husband and I were terrified of M-Pox, we didn’t know whether to pull the children out of school, if we should–did you say, “a piece of your body”?

FROST: They’re super-powered cult, and somehow in the name of unbiased news we’ve once again we’ve allowed lunatics normalcy. While perpetuating THEIR lies!? What about the people THEY’VE killed!? If they want to gas us, I say what I’ve done is proper justice!

[silence]

DR: Alright.

[silence]

FROST: Alright!

[silence]

DR: So…do you want to take that again, or can I speak?

FROST: Excuse me? Don’t you think for a second that the rumors might not true, doctor. You have no idea what I can d-

DR: Why are you giving me super villain?

[Muriel (Emma) stands up from my couch, throwing an empty miniature bottle to the floor]

FROST: YOU will learn your PLACE. If you’re going sit there ‘throwing shade’, I will remind you that I am not only the ONLY Queen in this room, but I was the closest thing to the bloody matriarch of the whole damned mutant species!

DR: And I don’t disagree.

FROST: Then maybe you can tell me why I turned into some INSANE BLOODY BACKGROUND FUGITIVE OVERNIGHT!!

DR: Emma-

FROST: And I know I’ve done a hell of a lot of wrong in the past, so maybe I simply deserve it by rite; you don’t have to tell me that! But first you better ring Wanda Maximoff: We can have a 3-way session comparing the pros and cons of genocide vs solving world hunger for a few months - If she’s not too busy doing yoga all across Europe-

DR: 'The Scarlet Witch’ is not a patient of mine-

FROST: I even specifically put the old college try into NOT killing Charles Xavier, for YEARS longer than reasonable, some would very well say!

DR: -but if it’s any consolation-

FROST: If Scott and I got amnesia and snoged Dr. Doom would Captain America have given us a shiny new team as well??

DR: -I agree with you.

FROST: I-……………….

[silence. Muriel (Emma) collects herself.]

FROST: ….I mean, What Is this trend? This sudden surge of affection for some Camelot sideshow-

DR: You don’t need to tell me. You were in my husband’s mind: I’m sure you selected us based on extracting from him memories of us, well, discussing you, often. I dare say he’s a fan.

FROST: Of course, though I didn’t stay long enough to see your feelings through his memory. There was so much affection for you and your children gushing in there that I thought I was going to be sick.

DR: Thank you.

FROST: Clever boy; I’m still holding you hostage though.

DR: To treat you? Treat your anger? Your guilt?

FROST: I never said I felt guilty.

DR: You mentioned feeling deserving or your…status change.

FROST: Watch it.

DR: And you did shoot down a shipload of Inhumans.

FROST: Yes and I would do it again.

[silence]

DR: So then…just your anger?

FROST: Just my…everything.

[silence]

DR: And I’m going to assume that I don’t have a choice.

FROST: Obviously. Especially since I can’t erase your memory of this conversation.

DR: But you’ve made it very clear that you have easy access to anyone in my life.

FROST: So we shouldn’t have any problems with privacy, wouldn’t you say?

[A knock from outside my door can be heard]

FROST: Now shall we set a day and time where you’re meeting with someone more pleasant looking? Though I do enjoy how delightfully vacant Muriel’s head is. Complimentary drinks certainly have their appeal…

[End of recording]

___________________________________________________________________

The next few minutes were somewhat staggering. My next patient cut my recording off by impatiently calling my cell, and suddenly Emma was gone. Then there was a very confused, and very suddenly drunk, Muriel Jenkins to deal with.

Emma left no indication of when I would next hear from her, but I believe her self-conducted intake was a success. My professional opinion was that Ms. Frost was looking for validation, some sign that she’s not completely out of touch with reality for seeing her past few years as an undeserved role reversal. From what I can gather, it seems as though this encounter was a test of how sympathetic I would be to her in her current state. Behind the razor sharp wit and the scowl, she was looking for someone potentially unbiased, someone who would not be intimidated into saying what she deeply wants to hear: Emma was right. Whether I meant to convey that message to her, and whether I’ll regret it, remain to be seen.

I’ve also emailed my current patients to remind them all to never have foreign substances in their system, or on their person, while in session.

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