#and the guy flipped through the booklet and i thought 'wait if i pause i can literally read the lyrics' HSKSJS

[viir-tanadhal]

the lyrics for adrenaline are great /j

[astudyincontrasts]

Penance III

Priest!Silco x Fem!Reader AU (sfw?)

Third installment in a nsfw multichapter little fic, dedicated to @purpurniymstitel​​​​‘s inspired prompt.  Slow burn continues, please get the aloe.  And the towels.  You guys have honestly been the flipping best.  I’m so glad everyone is enjoying the ruinous Father Silco so much.  Mark Twain said go to Heaven for the climate, Hell for the company.  

Ya’ll are the best company anyone could wish for.

In spite of your sincere dislike of it, you took the book he'd given you along with you the next day.  Went out to a café, enough money left for a coffee and croissant.  Sat there in the cold spring air finishing the book, the tips of fingers burning with the chill by the time you were done.  And you picked up one of those little listing booklets for new apartments, tucked it between cover and last page of the book to peruse later.  The balm of getting a new place soon doing wonders for your mood.

You rose late on Sunday, knowing full well Ginny would attend an earlier Mass.  Also not in any kind of terrible hurry.  You pulled on that navy dress again, wrapped and tied it tight to the side.  And stood there seriously considering the sheer nude stockings.  Considered going without entirely.  But pulled them on anyhow.  Stared in the mirror at your bruised knees, at how obvious the dark shadows marring them were under the hose.  Fuck it.  Let everyone look.  You even did you hair, had it soft, pretty.  Scooped up the book and headed out the door. You didn't sit in the very back this time, but you did pick one of the last rows that was occupied, silently wondering if that massive cathedral had ever seen a service that filled its huge space.  You sat there, watching him.  Wishing away that little touch of bitterness, the shallow anger at being treated like you'd done something wrong.  Waited your turn in line for the Eucharist, watching him offer you that miniscule little smile as you approached and did not return it. "The body."  Wafer lifted. You kept your mouth shut.  Lifted the cup of hands. "Amen." Watched the corners of his mouth fall back to their habitual downturn as he placed the wafer in your palm.  Set it in your own mouth without breaking eye contact and crossed yourself.  Stepped away.  He looked deeply unhappy after the period of silence and final song of praise.  Seated there sunk in thought, attention fixed on some ineffable point just at the edge of the dais.  You wanted it to make you happy but it did not.  Instead it had you waiting a long time after everyone filed out of the end of the service, had you sitting there in the straight backed uncomfortable pew until you lost feeling in your backside.  And then finally rose and headed for the rectory. You let yourself in, shut the door behind you and paused in the alcove.  Peered through the doorway to find him at his desk, busy in paperwork, scribbling something down, forehead propped on the rise of two fingers. "Father?" He glanced up and seemed genuinely surprised to find you standing there. "(Y/n).  Come in." The pace you set toward the desk was unhurried, almost cautious. "I finished the book."  You set it down before him and stood, not wanting to make the assumption of taking a seat just yet. "Good."  He kept his eyes on it, warm red cover and glossy gold lettering.  A finger drew it nearer himself.  He seemed to be gearing up to plow ahead with some pre-arraigned line of questioning about the subject matter or some pontificating on the same, but drew up short.  Teal eye ticked up as he tossed his pen on the desk and leaned back in the chair. "Come here." You held that gaze for a long moment before you complied, rounding the desk to stop before him as he swiveled chair toward you.  Felt warmth rise unwanted under skin as his attention fell to your knees.  Watched him release a breath that sagged his chest just a little.  And when he held out his hand you let him have yours.  Let him draw you forward another step before his hand fell.  Fingers curled behind the hollow of one knee as his thumb touched the tenderness of a deep blue bruise, had you flinching. He drew his hand back and instead touched the edge of his desk. "Please."  Tone quiet, some of that hard steel gone out of it. Hesitation hung heavy as you eyed the edge of the desk, and the door beyond, closed but unlocked. And then back to him. All that dark torment of his in the confessional rushing back in a tidal wave as you looked down at him; soft touch and sudden cold flare temper.  His hand up your dress.  What he'd made you say.  How weak it made you. Your hand strayed toward the desk and you followed it, perched on the edge of it and shifted back just a touch, watching him warily.  Got the sincere impression he was doing the same to you.  But that dark eyepatch felt like a barrier and scars helped disguise any tells from one half of his face. A mad little impulse seized you and you reached forward.  Caught the edge of that eyepatch and pulled it up, off.  Tossed it on the desk.  He glanced up at you in surprise and to your credit you just stared back.  Steady.  God, that eye.  Did it hurt?  How did it happen?  How could he stand it?  More surprise it moved with his good one, let you wonder if perhaps it had some semblance of sight left to it. You waited for him get mad at your forwardness, or to reach to cover the eye with his fingers, or even snatch the eyepatch back from beside you. "I think,"  He began, quietly, "Perhaps I ought to be the one seeking forgiveness today." You nodded shallowly, tried not to let it show how your throat worked a hard swallow as his fingertips caught a light brush of a stroke behind the calf of your damaged knee.  How eyes blinked hard and fast when they did it again. "Your penance was cruel.  I'm sorry."  Dark head canted slightly as he gazed up at you. Something dark seized up under your heart.  Made you want to tell him you forgave him.  Tell him to run his fingers higher up your leg.  Made you want to reach forward and touch the furrows of scars under that terrifying eye.  Climb into the dark spread of his lap.  Made you a little dizzy, a little off center.  Boundaries were blurring hard and fast.  Not that they'd been so steady to begin with. You sucked your lower lip inward and settled for another simple nod, settled into the ache.  Fingers burning like lit candles at denied touch. It turned out you didn't need to ask his fingers to stray.  He watched your thighs tighten together in that involuntary little tattletale motion and reached for the hem of your dress.  Flipped it up to uncover the lace tops of stockings. Nearly flipped it up far enough to reveal quite a bit more.  The air of the room felt cool against hot skin, a rush that had you sucking in a slow, deep breath as that now familiar taut little knot began tangling hard loops in your stomach. Hands slid up, caught the lace and peeled it off skin, drew first one stocking down and then the other as you obligingly lifted each thigh to allow it. Silk pooled just below damaged knees.  He cradled one of them in the grasp of both hands and thumbs drew slow arcs over the bruised bone. And then he ducked his head.  Scarred mouth brushed the lightest kiss you'd ever felt over sore skin, shooting a rushing warm spark straight up your thigh to that sweet throb between legs. You fought the urge to let eyes shut tight against the exquisite sensation,  fought not to let your head rock back, not to let some kind of terrible sound slip past the tight press of your lips.  Fought not to stroke fingers along the bare nape of his neck that his lowered head offered you. He kissed skin again and this time there was the lightest sensation of damp. Impossible to tell if it was a touch of the tip of his tongue or the inner edge of his lower lip. It had air escape you in a little unfortunately audible rush.  Got you another caress of those thumbs and the briefest of upward glances before his attention fell to the other knee. You wanted to ask him what exactly he thought he was doing, but the analogy of it struck you loud and clear. The washing and kissing of the beggars' feet.  It was such an indecent parallel to draw you felt a little rush at it.  This time when his mouth touched you it lingered, soft closing drag of scarred lips.  And you lost the battle to keep eyes open. One hand left its hard knuckled press to the desk and fisted in the fabric of your dress.  Gathered it up fold by soft fold until there was nothing between air and the small peek of underwear, satin small hint of triangle just above the tops of thighs. Felt his mouth lift from your skin as you willed eyes to open.  Caught his gaze flicking from the view up to you and, drawing a painful little breath, you spread knees a little further apart for him.  He held your agonized gaze for a long moment before dropping his head to grace your bruises with another chaste kiss.  And then set to drawing your stockings back up again. Leaving you feeling intensely foolish and terribly vulnerable.  Still, you lifted thighs one by one to accommodate the redressing.  And pulled the hem of your skirt down quickly when it was done.  What a stupid thing to have done. "Could I... could I have a cigarette?"  You asked tensely, and watched him blink that one good eye in surprise.  Substituting one craving for another felt as good as anything you supposed.  Both deeply unhealthy.  He released your knee and rose, terribly close, took hold of your elbow and helped you off the desk, steered you toward the door before letting his grasp drop.  Followed you outside and lit one for himself before handing it over. "We could share."  You took a drag and sweet god how it flooded your brain with a heady, comfortable little buzz as you handed it back to him.  You were collecting bad habits. "Were you mad at me?"  You finally found the courage to ask as you exhaled that deep lungful.  Watched his good eye close momentarily before fixing on you again. "No."  He handed the cigarette back.  "Yes." You huffed a laugh and flicked ash off the end of the cigarette, wrapped an arm around yourself. "I hated that book."  You admitted, because if you were both being honest, why not?  "I hated that woman.  And..." 

You took a long drag before handing the cigarette back, lifting a finger once he took it from you.  

"I got it.  Heavy handed metaphor about my Aunt.  Loud and clear." He grinned thinly and took his own drag with a single nod of acknowledgement. "And what else?" "That piety can be a shallow disguise for personal demons.  And privilege is an intoxicant.  Makes people drunk and stupid and high on themselves." He stared at you, fully forgetting to hand the cigarette back.  You dipped a little and took it from the hang of his hand yourself.  Watched his eyes narrow a fraction. "Why didn't you finish school?"  He asked frankly, almost sounding astounded. "Because the nuns and the priests were heartless mean bastards and I hated them all.  Father."  One last draw on the cigarette and you tossed the butt on the ground and twisted the toe of your shoe over it sharply. Father Silco watched the cold motion of it silently before his mismatched gaze rose again, slowly, that thin cant of a smile reassuming its place on his face for the first time that afternoon. "No, I can see that."  Like he was choosing his words carefully when it came to your discipline issues.  Hands laced themselves behind his back.  "You prefer praise." No words for how you blanched when he said the quiet part out loud.  And how he'd pinned you so obviously well had him positively smug.  Had you feeling your next confession would absolutely have a very detailed example of how you'd indulged in the sin of anger.  Not like he was wrong.  But you hated how well he read you. And how well you obviously liked his praise. In the comfortable if embarrassing silence that settled between you both your stomach rumbled audibly.  His dark brows lifted, smug satisfaction evaporating. "Have you eaten today?"  He asked delicately.  You wanted to lie or shrug it off but instead just shook your head. "Come have lunch with me."  Do what now? "Oh, no.  That's not-" "Please." You sagged slightly.  And a hot meal instead of picking through whatever was left in your fridge once more sounded divine.  Still you struggled for an out. "Don't you have more services?" He was opening the door, holding it for you. Hand a light touch to the small of your back as you passed by that made those damaged knees go to jelly a little.  He kept it there on the way back to the rectory. "Not until this evening.  And I'm tired of dining alone.  I'm sure you can imagine sharing a meal with the sisters can be dry at best."  He took what he needed from his desk and was headed to the door when you stopped him.

"Father?"  He turned to find you still stood by his desk, that dark eyepatch dangling from one finger.  Watching him carefully.  Quietly pleased that you'd somehow managed to either make him forget it or else that he felt comfortable enough without it around you that he'd been prepared to go out without it.  Back he came, slow, and your fingers closed on the thin elastic strap as he reached for it, pulling it back out of range a little.  

He let his hand fall and gave you a dark little look, only mildly amused with this tease.  You let that reproach roll off your back and stepped closer, had it in mind to put it on for him but got lost for a moment on the way there, fingers reaching for the furrows of those long scars.  And he let you.  Held perfectly still as you cupped hand to the hollow of a cheek and traced them, all the little ones directly under that terrifying ruin of an eye and the long ones.  His head listing an infinitesimal amount as fingertips slid down to the outer corner of his mouth. 

That reverie of yours was only broken when his own hand closed gently over your lower jaw, freezing you in place.  Red eye and teal ticking over your face, so breathlessly close, like they'd see straight through you.

"That was such a disappointment at Mass earlier."  Ragged dark velvet, pitched so quiet.  His thumb found the fullest part of your lower lip and pressed, parted your mouth and caught its edge against your lower teeth.  Mouth opened for him, a lovely little O.  All his attention focused on it, on how your tongue flattened within. 

No need to ask what he was referring to, even if you'd had the ability to do so; recalling full well how hurt he'd looked at you accepting the Eucharist in the palm of your hand.  He drew that little O just a touch wider open and you tilted head back into it just a bit.  Let you nudge the very tip of your tongue against the edge of his thumb.

"And here I thought you preferred it in your mouth."

He purred it.  Knees screamed their desire to give out under you and he let you rock up against him, watched you blinking hard and breathing harder in jagged subtle bursts.  His gentle grip on your open jaw allowed for one scant little nod of assent to that absolutely filthy observation.  And god, how darkly delighted he looked with the way you came all apart with it.  Had to be able to feel the thrumming tension wrung through you in all those long points of contact.

Unable to stand looking up into his face one more second you gave in to the urge of half lidded eyes.  Heart hammering at the possibility that any second now he was going to slide that entire thumb into your mouth and you were going to make an absolute idiot of yourself sucking hard upon it.  All that hammering seized up as that digit did slip forward, but only a scant fraction, light on the tip of your tongue.

"There's so few little pleasures left in life."  He ruminated softly, "Please don't rob me of one more, hm?"

Eyes flicked back up as the full length of you gave one long hard shiver against him, and sure you felt him hum quiet satisfaction at how well he'd undone you.  Thumb and grip of your jaw slid away, light brush of fingertips lighting thin lines of wildfire down the column of your throat before touch left.  Left you with your mouth still open invitation to him before some internal force beyond that hungry little lizard brain bid you close it already.  It took a breath or two before you found your voice, and even then it was a cracked little husk of a thing.

"Yes, Father."  

Arms bent, caught press of forearms to his chest, took a moment before you reached up, and how obliging he was to duck his head a little, let you settle the loop of the eye patch over him, careful as you could be with fingers so drunk on adrenaline that they refused to stop trembling. Let you set it over the unblinking eye, and fix the little locks of hair you'd dislodged, smoothing them one by one.

That kind, gracious smile he offered after you were done such stark contrast to the wicked one that had preceded it.  Your hands had come to settle on his shoulders and he pulled them down gently by their wrists, kept hold of one, its pulse hot and hard between his fingertips as he stepped back, pulled you along a pace before dropping his grip.

"Come on, then."

So grateful for the walk to the restaurant he chose, for the cold, damp spring air.  For the way it cemented you back in your body and worked against the desire to do something more foolish than all the other wild, absolutely insane little impulses you'd already given into today.  Hadn't you been mad at him when the morning started?  It felt hard to remember why, over what.  Not even the dark shadows of knees could lend a helpful reminder.  The pair of you fell into easy pace together and you made a mental note to start walking more, take it up as some kind of helpful hobby or outlet for... all this.

The bistro wasn't too far, and a lovely little place.  Would have been right at home in Rome or Paris.  In spite of the chill you both opted for one of the small outdoor tables on the sidewalk.  It seemed to be a regular place of his, the waitress knew him by name and greeted you both warmly.  Brought bread and water and two low tumblers of scotch even though they weren't ordered.  You stared at yours questioningly.  It was barely mid afternoon.  He was already sipping on his, watching your struggle.

"You don't drink?" He asked, ice cubes clinking with the rocking of his glass.  You set fingertips against the smooth, leaded crystal.  Knew it would have a pleasant weight to its heavy bottom when you lifted.  Knew how it would burn on the tongue.  Toyed with the glass where it sat, swiping a finger against the condensation collecting along amber liquid line.

"No.  I mean I do.  I'm surprised you do."  Lifting the glass you let the fumes of the liquor sear nostrils, oak and sea air and heavy peat moss.  Ridiculously expensive Islay.  "I'm surprised at a lot of things about you."

Weren't you being frank?  Took a steadying sip.  Such a lovely burn, and the sea salt air near where the barley had been grown and peat had been harvested like taking the first breath at the beach.  That habitually severe expression of his eased with the cant of a smile as his attention fell into his glass.

"I wasn't born a priest."

No kidding.  You breathed a little laugh into your scotch and took a second steadying sip.

"What happened?"  Hand holding the glass indicated your own eye in lieu of his own.

His jaw tightened a little, as did his grasp on the glass, but you watched him let it wash past.  Even if he kept his attention fixed on the scotch instead of you.

"Those two stories are actually one and the same."  Thin cut of his mouth tightened and you could watch him sort out his thoughts, sifting rubble from gold slowly in the unreliable sieve of memory. 

"I had a near death experience, when I was younger.  This,"  He indicated the marred half of his face, "This was the result.  And so was the calling."  

Teal eye ticked up to regard you and it felt like the first honest hint of vulnerability you'd seen from him, a little slip of that velvet gloved grip to reveal the hand beneath still human.  You kept your peace and gave him space to go on as the food arrived.  

"I nearly drowned, back before I was almost twenty.  It's a hell of a thing, touching death.  There was a moment."  Fine brows were furrowed hard against one another, the expression on his face far darker than it ought to be for someone speaking of how they came to the church.  You could practically hear thunder behind those clouds.  "I swore I saw the face of god. I can't describe it.  Afterward it didn't feel like much of a choice."

His focus flicked up toward you, glanced off with a shrug.  Painful, to witness that vague vulnerability.

"I've heard that faith is belief without proof."  You offered quietly.  Reached forward and stole one of the fries from his steak frites.  Earned a thin, mirthlessly sad smile that cut a soft little line across the back of your heart.  "Feeling proof must be awful."

Cool eye ticked up and caught you hard.  Inscrutable and sharp and pained.  He nodded slowly, picked up silverware.

"That it is."  

You settled into your own dish, ravenous appetite tempered somewhat by the depth of the conversation, but only slightly.  So hungry for a hot meal not scavenged from your pantry.  

"Oddly enough the only other person involved in the accident that nearly killed me also joined the clergy."  He cut a sharp line across his steak and you did not fail to miss the bitter emphasis he put on that one word.  Had you glancing up curiously as you brought fork to your mouth.  If you'd thought he looked dark before, you'd had no idea.  Deep waters, this one.  

‘Accident’ turned out to be exactly the euphemism you'd intuited as conversation continued over the unhurried late lunch.  Apparently there were gaps in memory, or else things he refused to recognize or give life to out loud.  But the implication was heavy that perhaps there was a reason this other young man at the time had been responsible for his near death.  And the trauma of it had driven them both to the cloth, for very different reasons.

The fact that the man responsible had scaled the clerical ladder like a charming social climber obviously sat deep bitterness with Silco.  It shouldn't have come as any kind of shock that the sparse little parish he oversaw was not his life's ambition, but hearing him allude to it honestly was an open window you were surprised to get a glimpse through.  

There was a second round of that lovely scotch.  Plates cleared away, and you demurred dessert while he was given a slice of chocolate chiffon pie unasked.  You scooped up a coffee spoon and gauged your moment.  Lent forward and scooped a lusciously thick scoop of whipped cream off the top of it along with a tiny bit of chocolate.  Watched him narrow eyes as you brought it to your mouth.  Opened and set that spoon in, scoop upside down to face your tongue.  Pulled clean spoon out slow as sweet bloomed against taste buds.

He looked delightedly livid at your boldness.  And you gifted him a grin.  Glad to pull him out of that ugly mire recollection had spun him away into.  Set the spoon down and caught up a scoop of the airy whip upon forefinger.  Set your elbow upon the table.  Finger a subtle enticement.  Nothing but someone casually holding a confection alight in anticipation of indulging themselves if anyone cared to cast a glance your way.  

He was not stupid.  Gave you a long look coupled with a soundless deep exhalation. 

"It strikes me I've done more confessing than you did the other day."  He observed dryly.  Attention flitting casually between that proffered finger and your face. 

It struck you that you both had barely concealed bruises.

"Did you want absolution?"  You asked evenly, more bold than you felt by half.  Blame the scotch.

He reached out, caught your wrist and leaned forward all in one smooth motion.  Had that cream off your finger far too quickly to leave you time to savor.  Was already leaning back in his chair and picking up his scotch by the time your finger registered the fleeting warmth of his mouth and the sudden cool chill of wet skin left behind in the air.

"Do you forgive me?"  He asked quietly.  Knew the answer was yes.

Part IV

[atlabeth]

neighborly things - sokka x fem!reader

summary: reader can’t make things for shit. thankfully, she has a cute and crafty neighbor willing to help her. 

a/n: im so sorry lmao. i have requests and i have 2 series that havent been updated in like a month but sometimes i just need to write a stupid little oneshot to get back in the writing mood. i did this in an hour 

im not a screwdriver expert so dont come at me if some of this info is wrong lmao 

wc: 1.6k 

warning(s): some cursing but otherwise pure fluff. also i didnt proofread im SORRY im pretty sure they laugh grin and smile like 200 times 

-

“Dammit!” 

 Anyone unfortunate enough to have a place near you during this time would have heard the phrase on more than twenty occasions, and it wasn’t even noon yet. You had gotten the parts in the mail to put together a new dresser a couple days ago, and had finally decided to take on the task. You didn’t know if it was because you were inexperienced with furniture or just lacked basic comprehension skills, but it was proving to be no less than Herculean. 

 You threw the screwdriver at the wall and fell back to the floor as you let your arms sprawl out above you. You had been trying to screw in a part for no less than thirty minutes, and if a miracle didn’t happen right about now, you were going to lose your mind. 

Your head snapped towards the door when she heard a knock, and your brows creased. “God?” You muttered as you got up, wondering if you had actually thought a miracle into existence. 

 You weren’t greeted by a deity when you opened the door, but the man standing in front of you was pretty damn close. With ocean blue eyes, hair pulled back in a ponytail with shaved sides, and toned arms, he was a sight to behold. But you had no idea why he was in front of your door. 

 “Hey, are you okay?” He questioned, genuine concern in his tone. 

 “Um, yeah, why?” You were trying to rack your brain for any memory of this guy — because you knew you would remember him if you had seen him before — but to no avail. “Also, who are you and why are you here?”

 “Right,” he chuckled. “My name’s Sokka. I’m your neighbor; I live—” he gestured at the door just next to your place, “—over there. Moved in a couple weeks ago, so that’s probably why you don’t know me. I’ve just been hearing a lot of cursing and loud noises coming from your place, so I figured I would stop in and see what was going on.” 

 “Oh. That’s.. very considerate of you, Sokka. I’m just…” you sighed and chuckled at the ridiculousness of it all. “I’m just trying to put together a dresser, and it’s not going well at all. That latest sound you heard was the culmination of my rage. I threw a screwdriver at the wall.” 

 “Yeah, that’ll do it,” he laughed. “Listen. I don’t wanna intrude on you or anything, but I happen to be pretty good at putting things together. I had to do a lot of furniture construction when I first moved in, plus I’m the one all my friends call when they need help with putting anything together. I could probably help you with whatever’s troubling you.”  

 “Are you serious?” 

 “Oh, no. I just go door to door joking around with people, asking if they need help with their furniture, sometimes I ask if their refrigerator is running? It really gets a kick out of them.” 

 You rolled your eyes goodnaturedly and stepped aside so he could enter your apartment. “Thank you so much, Sokka. I’ve read the instructions a million times, I seriously don’t know what I’m doing wrong.” 

 He crouched down and picked up the manual, turning to a dog-eared page and skimming over the instructions. He pointed at the screwdriver you had thrown against the wall and glanced back at you. “Is that the one you’ve been using?” 

 You closed and locked the door behind him then walked over to the wall, picking up the unfortunate victim of your anger and spinning it in your hands. “Yeah, why?” 

 “Do you know what kind it is?” 

 “Um.. maybe? God, I don’t know. I think it’s a Phillip’s head?” 

 Sokka laughed and shook his head, holding up the manual so you could see it. “That’s where you’re going wrong. You need a Pozidriv for these screws — they’re similar enough that anyone can make a mistake.”

 You stared at Sokka in complete amazement — apparently, your savior lived next door, and he came in the form of a handsome guy with basic knowledge on putting furniture together. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you said as you walked over and took the booklet from himl. You flipped through it a couple times and read over the part, shaking your head in disbelief. 

 “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!” you repeated, louder this time. “Do you know how long I’ve been trying to get that thing to- to work, to screw, to— whatever you call it?” 

 “It’s actually to—”

 “Thirty minutes!” You interrupted, earning a small chuckle from Sokka. “Thirty damn minutes that I have been trying to get that screw in, and it’s all because I was using the wrong screwdriver. Why would they make screwdrivers that are so similar but aren’t interchangeable?!” 

 He shrugged and held up his hands. “Don’t ask me — I don’t make the rules, I just follow them. But like I said; this dresser might fall apart if you keep using this thing. I actually have a Pozidriv back at my place, I can go get it and we can finish this up together.” 

 “God, that would be the biggest help,” you admitted. “But I don’t wanna take up your time — I don’t know how I would even repay you.” 

 “I’m doing this because I want to help you,” he said. “You don’t have to repay me. Think of it as… as a neighborly thing.” 

 “A neighborly thing?” you repeated with a laugh. “Well, if you’re offering, I’m definitely not going to refuse.” 

 “I am offering,” Sokka winked. “And unless you want to be at this for another three days, I think you should take that offer.” 

 You pretended to deliberate over it before letting out an exaggerated sigh. “I guess I’ll let you help me. I mean, really you should be thanking me for this brilliant opportunity to, um.. hone your skills.” 

 He laughed, a brilliant sound that made your heart sing, and nodded as he went back to the door. “Thank you so much for letting me put together this dresser. Truly, it’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

 “Then I’m happy to be of assistance.” 

 Sokka grinned then unlocked and opened the door. “I’ll be right back, then we can get started.”

 -

 Once he got back, the two of you got to work. The next three hours passed so quickly as you and Sokka talked about everything from the work you did to people in your lives (no girlfriend, thankfully), to exchanging stories — even the silence, though rare, was comfortable. 

 Sokka pushed the last drawer into its place then clapped his hands as he stood up, admiring the fruits of your labor. “And that’s it! We’re done.”

 “Wait, we’re done? Already?” You set down the instruction manual and stood up as well, backing up to Sokka’s position to see what he saw. “Wow, that looks.. that looks just like the picture. We are good at this! Well, you’re really good at this, I’m good at keeping you entertained. But still!” 

 You held your hand up for a high five and he laughed, but not without meeting it with a satisfying clap. 

 “It does look pretty good,” he admitted. “And not only do you have a brand new, fully functioning dresser, you also had the priceless experience of spending three hours with the neighbor you know nothing about.” 

 “That’s not true,” you countered. “I know that you’re really good at putting things together, you’re a genius when it comes to anything math or science, and you hate blueberries.” 

 Sokka snickered and brushed his hands off on his jeans. “That’s everything there is to know.” 

 “I dunno, Sokka. You seem like a pretty interesting guy.”

 “Really?”

 “Yeah. It’s not every day that someone offers to put together a whole dresser just because they feel bad.”

 “Well—” he tore off a blank part of the instruction manual and picked up a spare pen from the counter, then put it up against the wall as he scribbled something on it. Sokka put the pen down and handed the slip of paper to you with a smile. “If you ever need any more help with furniture, then call me.” 

 You could feel your cheeks heat up as you took the paper. Your fingers brushed ever so slightly as you took the slip of paper, and you decided to just go for it. You bit back a grin and tried to sound as innocuous as possible. “And if I want to get to know you beyond the blueberries?” 

 Sokka laughed and leaned against the doorframe. “Definitely call me.”  

 “Great.” 

 The two of you smiled at each other like idiots for way too long before a notification from his phone broke the silence. He jumped from the sudden noise and dug his phone out of his pocket, giving you an apologetic look. “Sorry, my sister just texted me and I gotta get over to her place.” Sokka started towards the door then paused and turned around. “I actually had a lot of fun doing this, though. I’ll see you around, yeah?” 

 “Yeah.” You knew you had that same smile on your face, but it just wouldn’t go away. His energy was contagious. “Definitely.” 

 “Great.” He winked at you one last time then left, closing the door behind him, and finally snapping you out of your spell. 

 You leaned against the dresser and stared at the slip of paper in your hands, committing the number to memory. 

 You were definitely going to take him up on that offer. 

-

perm tag list: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin​

[red-kewpie-cap]

Over an Anpan, Really

Shigaraki x Reader, sfw, word count 1,709

"Thank you, have a nice day!" you smiled politely from behind the front countertop. The customer waved as she exited, and the bell above the door chimed upon its closing.

"I'll be out back waiting for the supply truck. They should be coming," your coworker, Miyaguchi, paused to check his watch, "in two minutes. Can you handle the shop for an hour or so?"

You nodded, "Gotcha."

"Alright, thanks. I'll be back!" Miyaguchi spun around the door and left through the kitchen behind you. You listened for the back door as it closed.

Your elbow was propped atop the cool, marble countertop, your head resting lightly on your hand. The pastries encased in the glass displays were freshly baked this morning, and you had to hold yourself back from stealing a few.

It was only your first month in Japan, and you were still learning the ropes language-wise, culturally, and socially. Unlike in your home country, running in to famous pro-heroes was more common here due to living in the most populated city.

You admired hero work greatly, so you kept a small book of the biggest heroes in Japan in case you ever encountered one. The bakery was fairly empty—it was still early, anyway. Adults were commuting to work outside the shop's windows, and students skipped to school in their matching uniforms.

You sighed and pulled your booklet out from the counter's bottom shelf. A green tag stuck out from the top near the first few pages. You opened the book from the marker and began to read about the hero on the page, Mt. Lady.

Fully indulged in your reading, you were startled by the bakery doorbell's chimes.

"Oh! Good morning, what can I get you today?" You fumbled with the booklet and—subsequently—ended up dropping it on the opposite side of the counter.

Damn it.

The customer delivered a judging stare before slowly bending over to pick the book up. They held the stapled spine between their thumb and index, the rest of their fingers held high above the booklet.

Are they afraid of germs?

They dropped the book on the counter. Bashfully, you thanked them, ensuring the distance between you two in case they really were disturbed by germs.

You only then noticed the person's unordinary appearance. A white, detached hand held onto their face, and several more latched onto their upper body. Their baby blue hair was unkempt and tangled, and their black garments were just as tattered; however, you weren't one to judge, so you asked for their order just as any good employee would.

"Give me an anpan." His voice was higher than you expected and oddly soothing.

Although he did not appear as polite as most customers, you followed his directions and wrapped the single bun in paper. Waiting a few seconds more, you then asked with a smile, "Is that all, sir?"

His shoulders dropped ever so slightly, and he shook his head.

"Alright then. That'll be two hundred yen," you said, internally cringing at your slight mispronunciation. Your Japanese was far from perfect.

The man grabbed the paper bag and turned to the exit with no intention of paying.

"Ah, sir! You have to pay for that!" You worriedly glanced at the back door to see if Miyaguchi was still outside. Seeing that he was absent, you hurried around the counter and stood in between the front door and the blue haired man.

"You have to pay for your food, sir," you stated adamantly. If Miyaguchi discovered that the store had been robbed during your shift, you would be in deep trouble—no matter how much money was taken.

"Move" was all he said.

"You have to pay first," you replied.

The man sighed dramatically and dragged himself to a table with two, pastel yellow chairs. He unwrapped the bun, carefully sticking his pinkie finger out as he did so.

What a polite robber.

"Are you going to pay?" you asked, growing more confused than angry.

The strange man tapped the leg of the chair across from him with his foot. "Sit down."

You deliberately followed along. Perhaps showing kindness would convince him to pay for his food.

Slowly, he removed the white hand from his face, revealing a pair of cherry red eyes. He had two scars: one over his right eye, another across the side of his mouth. A mole dotted his pale skin beneath his bottom lip, and dark bags sagged beneath his tired eyes.

You gave no reaction but only observed him further. The man then looked at you, his eyebrows laced with both judgement and confusion. "Aren't you scared?"

"No," you responded, "should I be?"

He rose the anpan to his mouth and bit into the soft bun. Swallowing his bite, he continued, "I'm a villain. I could kill you."

Despite him having no joking tone, you couldn't take his words seriously. Somehow, proclaiming oneself as a villain while dressed in all black felt all too cliché to you.

"Did you just laugh?" He looked up through slit like eyes.

"Huh—no! Did I? I must've thought of something funny." You frantically waved your hands in front of your face, a single bead of sweat dripping down the back of your neck.

He stared a second longer before taking another bite of the anpan. There was an uncomfortable silence.

You've never been in a situation like this before at work—a man who seemed to be stealing was now seated before you, engaging in what could be considered a conversation. Nonetheless—a villain—who was believed to be worse than a criminal. You weren't sure what to do, but as long as he payed for his food, you would be satisfied.

"Are you going to call the police?"

"No. I wasn't planning on it," you spoke honestly. "I just want you to pay for your food so I can keep my job."

"It's only two hundred yen."

"Two hundred yen that could get me fired."

He hummed and took the last bite of the bun. In his palm, he crumpled the paper wrapper, then closed his fingers over the trash. The paper disintegrated in seconds, and you somehow managed to inhale some of the dust left over, making you sneeze.

He tilted his head up and looked at you with another blank expression. It was so difficult to read him.

"Excuse me," you sputtered quietly in English.

Desperate to keep your new job, you resorted to flattery. "You have very nice... eyes... by the way. I've never met someone with red eyes before."

He didn't seem amused, but then again, he didn't seem anything majority of the time.

"What's your name,” his sentence more of a command than a question.

"Sato," you lied. He was still a villain no matter how unthreatening he appeared in the moment.

"Sato," he repeated suspiciously, "really?"

You nodded, following his gaze that traveled from your chest back to your eyes.

"Your name tag seems to disagree, (y/n)."

God, you’re an idiot.

"Right! Sato is my... middle name. I'm not from Japan, so my real name is a bit hard to pronounce. That's why I go by Sato," you stammered, fiddling with your apron the entire time.

"Well, did I say it correctly?" he inquired with the slightest hint of sarcasm.

You rapidly nodded.

"Then go by it. Sato's an ugly name."

You couldn't tell if this was an attempt to compliment you or if he genuinely disliked the name Sato.

"So... are you going to pay now?"

There was the thousandth silence between you before the man groaned loudly, dragging a single hand across his face with annoyance. He continued to pull out a phone and dial a random number.

You waited awkwardly as the phone rang for the longest time possible before someone picked up.

"I need money," he grumbled.

A voice buzzed in response, but the receiver was not loud enough for you to understand. You simply sat still, occasionally fidgeting with your apron as he argued on the phone. He finally ended the call with "Be quick."

Not even seconds later, a flash of purple swirled outside the bakery doors. Another strange man stepped out of the ominous dust.

His entire body was a patched quilt with stitches connecting a purple-ish colored skin to what remained of his natural skin. He had fluffy, yet sharp, black hair and wore a long trench coat just as torn as the man before you.

Villains must not buy new clothes often.

The bell rang for the fifth time that day as the man entered. He immediately turned his attention toward you, completely overlooking his defeated friend.

You gulped.

"You never pay for shit, Shigaraki. Have you finally softened up? Or are you being held hostage." The nightmarish man had a mocking tone in his voice, and he stared at you despite speaking to his friend.

"Just give me the damn money," the villain—who was apparently named Shigaraki—hissed back.

"You got it, boss," the latter quipped, sarcastic and mockingly.

He fished a five hundred yen coin out of his coat pocket and dropped it on the table. Shigaraki was already standing up by that time, brushing his hands on his black shirt.

"Let me get you your change," you exhaled, relieved that you managed to get your way. You swiftly shuffled back to the cash register, but the two men were already on towards the exit.

"He wants you to keep it," whispered the black haired friend with a playful wink, and the doorbell rang for the last time that hour.

You witnessed the same purple cloud swallow the two just outside the front door, and they were gone.

Your eyes stared at the booklet that still lie on the countertop. Flipping through the glossy pages, you stopped at the middle where it transitioned to the "Villains" section. Likely enough, there was a page solely dedicated to the blue haired man who had just attempted to steal an anpan from your bakery.

You spent the next twenty minutes reading about him—his crimes, his victories, and his defeats. "Interesting guy," you muttered to yourself.

[doyumacy]

FALLOUT |LH| TWELVE (FINALE)

*gif not mine

PAIRING: donghyuck x reader bodyguard!donghyuck

WARNINGS: mentions of jaemin taeyong. swearing, major character death, gunshot wound, blood mentioned, grieving 

WORD COUNT: 4,6K

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN ELEVEN 

You groaned as, once again, you awoke sick for the fourth day.

It had been impossible to keep your breakfast down of late, and more often than not you spent most of the morning with your head in a bucket. You blamed the one week old pizza you had a week before.

That morning, Donghyuck made you your favourite breakfast before leaving with Jeno and you couldn't even have a bite. You were going to throw up again.

“Love, did I leave my phone here? I can't find it anywhere…” You heard him.

Another wave of nausea caught you, and you threw your head into the toilet. You coughed, tears in your eyes as the voice got closer. The dry heaving was almost more unpleasant than the vomiting, you lamented, leaving your throat sore and your voice hoarse.

“I am not dressed yet!” You called, not technically lying, as your pajamas clung to your body with sweat.

“I think we are past all that,” he laughed, pushing the door open.

You adjusted your pajasm as he searched, sensing the rush he was in from his near ignoring of you. "I swear I left it here before I took a shower."

He finally found it atop the mantlepiece, and turned to make a comment on it, when he noticed your appearance.

“Good god, are you okay?”

“Fine. A little nauseous, is all.”

He rushed over to you

“I think I have the stomach flu, perhaps. Stay back.”

“I likely already have it, if it is that,” he smiled. “So there is no further harm.”

"Seriously," you whined. "I don't want you to get sick."

"Are you sure you're okay? You look palid," he cupped your face.

You nodded. "Go. Jeno must be waiting for you."

Donghyuck sighed and placed a kiss on your forehead. "If by tomorrow you don't look better I'm taking you to the hospital, okay?"

"Yes, sir."

Your body ached, more so than when you were PMSing. But not every month was the same, so you thought the pill was doing its secondary effects. You grabbed your birth control pill case and before taking it, you checked your last case and realised you missed a few. You cursed.

You stared at the rows upon rows of pregnancy tests. Did women actually know which one to take? Was it common knowledge knowing which one was the best? You sighed and rubbed your eyes. You were probably overreacting. You grabbed the pink one off the shelf. It wasn’t the cheapest one, but it was a brand you remembered from commercials. You stopped by the snack stand and picked up a bar of your peanut butter and chocolate. You always hated peanut butter. Shit. You dropped the bar chocolate and sat down on the counter. The woman at the checkout rang them through and gave you the total.

You held up your bank card, “Credit.”

She nodded and pressed the button. You inserted the card into the machine, went through the motions of inputting your password and checking the account type.

“Would you like a bag?” The woman asked as you waited for the transaction to clear.

You shook your head, “No thank you.”

She handed you the two items and the receipt. You dropped them down into your purse. You exited the drug store and stood on the street corner for a minute. You couldn’t do this alone. You needed some guidance. You pulled your phone out of your pocket and texted Lena.

Can I call you? You pressed send and began walking home.

You recounted the last few times you and Donghyuck had sex. You ran your fingers through your hair, so many times. Your phone rang in your hand and Lena's caller ID showed up.

You smiled, “Hey girl.”

“You’re pregnant, aren’t you?” She cut right to the chase.

You thought about lying, just to spite her but you two knew each other so well that it wasn’t a surprise that she’d picked up on your worries early on.

“I bought a test.” You explained.

She squealed into the phone and you had to pull it away while she freaked out. You laughed at her reaction. Your nerves settle the tiniest bit. She already had Minah. She knew exactly what to expect. You unlocked your front door and lined it for the couch.

“Ok.” She settled in as you entered your house, “Take the test right now.”

You shook your head, “Isn’t it better to take it in the morning? I swear I heard that somewhere before.”

“Pff if you’re pregnant it doesn’t matter what time of day you take the test.” She explained.

You rolled your eyes, of course she knew best, she was a doctor and a mom after all.

“How am I supposed to pee on a stick and hold the phone at the same time?” You joked.

You heard a door shut on her end, “Put the phone down, pee on the stick and come back.”

You groaned. What if you really were pregnant? You were happy but scared at the same time. This wasn’t something you’ve ever had to deal with.

“Alright.” You said.

You placed the phone down on the table and pulled the test out of your purse. You went into the bathroom, ripped the box open, ignored the instructions and made sure that the bristles were in place. You frowned, this was almost as awkward as peeing in a cup.

You placed the phone down on the table and pulled the test out of your purse. You went into the bathroom, ripped the box open, ignored the instructions and made sure that the bristles were in place. You frowned, this was almost as awkward as peeing in a cup. A shiver ran down your spine as you felt weird about the whole thing. Lena was willingly waiting for you to pee on a stick. You set the test on the corner of the sink, finished your business and pulled up your pants. You pushed the cap over the bristled part of the test and then washed your hands. You grabbed the instructions and test as you went back to the living room. You glanced at the clock. It was only 10:30 in the morning. Donghyuck wouldn’t be home for another few hours.

You picked up the phone, “It’s done.”

“Yay!” Lena laughed. “Have you thought about how you’re going to tell Donghyuck?”

You shrugged, “No. I don’t even know if this is real yet. I could just be overreacting.”

“You wouldn’t have called me if you thought this was a false alarm.” She stated.

You groaned, “Ugh.”

Why was she always right? She laughed again. She distracted you with mindless prattle while you waited the three minutes for the test to finish. You left it sitting on the coffee table, upside down because you still didn’t know if you were prepared for the outcome.

“Three minutes.” Lena announced.

You took a deep breath and gingerly picked up the test. You flipped it over and creased your eyebrows in confusion.

“Uh – it has one solid line and one really faint one.” You told her.

You pulled out the instructions pamphlet and began scanning through. It mentioned that two solid lines mean pregnant but it made no mention of a solid first line and faint second one. Were all the tests this finicky?

“That’s exactly what it looked like when I was pregnant with Minah.” She advised.

You shook your head, “This doesn’t make any sense. The booklet distinctly says that you have to have two solid lines. Not one solid and one barely there.”

She chuckled at your denial, “Y/N you’re pregnant.”

“That’s not what the booklet says!” You fought back.

“You’re pregnant.” Lena said again.

You paused and then all the excitement of being pregnant caught up with you. Tears formed at your eyes.

“I’m pregnant.” You whispered. “I'm pregnant!” You screamed. “Oh my god. Oh my god! How am I going to tell Hyuck?"

“Do something cute, like put the test in a pan and put the pan in the oven.” Lena offered, “Symbolically tell him you have a ‘bun in the oven.’”

You burst into laughter, “Isn’t that sort of stuff reserved for people planning on these things? This wasn’t exactly on our list of to-dos.”

You both broke into giggles. This was absurd and exhilarating all at once. You never expected to ever be a parent. It wasn’t something you thought you had in you. Now that you were pregnant, and with Donghyuck, you’d never felt more ready. The two of you could do this.

You took a deep breath and then blew it out through tight lips, “He’s not going to be home until after 7. I can’t wait that long.”

“Mull it over. He loves you, remember that.” She gave me a minor pep talk, “Oh, and guys handle these things differently. Don’t forget that.”

You nodded, “Alright. Thanks Lena.”

“No problem. You have to call me and tell me how he reacts.” She demanded.

I laughed at her, “I will.”

“Alright girl, I’ve got to go. I’ve been paged five times now.” She spoke swiftly and then hung up.

You dropped your phone down onto the coffee table and turned the TV on. You had no idea how you were going to tell Donghyuck. This was definitely not something either of you had talked about.

(...)

He’d been home for at least an hour now. The two of you were just sitting on the couch, watching TV. You couldn’t concentrate on the show because there was so much going on in your mind. Your face was hot and a blush was covering your entire body. You had no idea why but you felt embarrassed. You hadn’t even said or done anything yet. The tension in your body was building and you were starting to freak out. What if he had a horrible reaction? You never did talk about this. It wasn’t in the plans. Shit! You needed to get out of your head. You couldn’t start making things up. He didn’t even know yet. You tucked your feet underneath you and cradled the throw cushion into your stomach. You felt safer, almost like you were hiding your secret.

“Baby…” You murmured.

He glanced over at you, “Yeah.”

“We need to talk.” You said, immediately regretting your choice of words.

Now he probably thought you were breaking up with him. How did other people do this? This was the hardest conversation you’d ever had to have in your life. He raised an eyebrow at you, waiting for you to speak. You opened your mouth but stopped. You didn’t know what to say. Your heart was thudding in your chest and the adrenaline soared through your body.

"(Y/N)?" Donghyuck kept staring at you. "What is it?"

"Uhm..." you scratched the back of your neck. "I, I don't want to eat shrimp in our wedding."

He stared at you for a couple of seconds. "That is it?" You nodded, swallowing. "Baby, we can eat whatever we want in our wedding."

You hated yourself for lying to him. "I just... heard you say to Jeno you really love shrimp and I don't, so..."

"I don't really mind, love," he pecked you. "If you want to have tacos, then we'll have tacos."

You smiled. "Okay."

"Okay." He kissed you.

You couldn’t do it. You were too nervous.

(...)

You were all together in the cabin you rented, sitting around the coffee table filled with food and drinks.

“So, when's the wedding?” Jaemin asked, having a sip of his beer.

“Uh we still haven't set a date, but I hope it's soon,” Donghyuck replied and smiled.

“Hurry up before my baby bump starts showing!” Lena laughed. "And others things too." She glanced at you. You ignored her.

“Are you pregnant again?” Taeyong looked at her.

She nodded. "Yup, baby number two is coming next winter."

"Hey, congrats," Jaemin smiled. "I bet Hoseok is thrilled."

"He is, he wants twins," Lena rolled his eyes. "As if one wasn't enough."

Donghyuck giggled. "I'd love to have twins one day."

"You see, (Y/N)? Give him babies soon!" Lena smiled.

You rolled your eyes and Donghyuck put an arm around your shoulder. "We'll have kids as soon as we get married."

"You don't even hate a date yet," Jaemin mocked him.

You didn't know when Jaemin and Donghyuck became so close that they would bicker jokingly so often. And you found it funny, but that day you were nervous because you had to tell him you were pregnant. He deserved to know.

Taeyong tilted his head to the side, examining you. You looked different, your body seemed different. And the way you wouldn't look Donghyuck in the eye he could tell you were hiding something.

Then he knew. You were pregnant.

Later that night, you were doing the dishes when Taeyong showed up in the kitchen. He smiled at you as he poured  some water in a glass. He stood next to you, leaning against the counter. “How long are you?”

“Excuse me?” You looked at him.

He cocked his head cutely, smiling. “If I’m not wrong you’re pregnant, right?”

You sighed and nodded. “How did you know? Did Lena tell you? I’m gonna kill her.” You hissed.

Taeyong chuckled and shook his head. “I had a slight suspicion since the last time I saw you.”

You pressed your lips together. “6 weeks.”

“And… are we happy?” He rested his hand on yours.

“I am, I’m just nervous,” you let out an awe sigh. “I know he’s gonna be all happy, but still, it’s unexpected.”

“You’ll be fine.” Taeyong assured you. “Everything will be fine.”

“Promise?”

“When have I ever lied to you?” He cocked an eyebrow.

You giggled. “Never.”

“See?” Taeyong smiled. “Come here.” He pulled you close to him and hugged you. “I’ll always be by your side.”

(...)

“What are we going to do tomorrow?” Jaemin asked.

Donghyuck's eyes lit up, “There are several things we could do, how physical would we like to get?”

There was an extremely varied pool of answers. Jaemin and Donghyuck wanted it to be as extreme as they could get. You seemed anxious about what ‘physical’ would entail as physical usually also corresponded with danger.

Taeyong thought for a moment before recommending, “Why don’t we go down to the lake? It can be as low key or high key as people want, and there are some very pretty places nearby if people would not like to participate in the lake.”

Jaemin nodded, “Sounds fine to me.”

Lena whispered something to you and when they nodded Donghyuck's eyes lit up, “we're in as well.”

The next morning , you decided to make sandwiches for your trip later in the day while everyone cleaned up from breakfast, and then everyone left to go get dressed. Donghyuck put on their bathing suit underneath so he could easily change in and out of it, and grabbed their pair of sunglasses. He went out to the main area of the cabin to gather up the towels.

Taeyong arrived a few moments later, he had a sunhat on with round black sunglasses on. "Is everyone ready?"

Jaemin nodded. "We better go!"

The walk down to the lake was surprisingly calm, it was still morning and the birds were chirping, hidden in the trees, and the occasional butterfly would flutter across their path. The lake was stunning when you arrived. It was a large tranquil body of water which seemed to absorb the sun to show every possible shade of blue, and reflected it at just the right points so the ripples glinted and gleamed.

Donghyuck immediately tore off his shirt and sprinted for the dock as Jaemin and Taeyong followed him. Lena and you sat on the edge of the dock.

In the field there was laughter and joy, the three of them wove crowns and bracelets for each other.

"Why haven't you told him yet?" Lena queried.

You shrugged. "Becuase I'm dumb."

"Yeah, I know," she giggled. "You need to tell him before he realises it."

You sighed. "I'm gonna do it tonight."

She smiled. "Finally!"

"It's so cold." you said hugging yourself tighter.

Donghyuck grinned, scrunching his nose. "If you get in the water you'll get warm."

You rolled your eyes again. "You're not getting me into the lake."

Donghyuck pouted. "You sure, love?" He asked, batting his eyes.

You crossed your arms nodding your head. You didn't notice the way his arms snaked around your legs, having a slightly good hold on you. "I hoped you'd say that." Donghyuck had an evil smile on his face, causing you to look confused.

"I didn't say any- ahh!" Before you knew it, you were pulled into the lake.

When you broke to the surface Donghyuck was already waiting for you. You moved the hair from your face and glared at him. "Hyuck!" You yelled slamming your fists into the water. Donghyuck broke into a laughing fit. You glared at him, crossing your arms and turning away with a small 'Hmph!' Donghyuck was still laughing just a bit, before swimming up behind you. "Aw come on love, you can't be mad at me." He said wrapping his arms around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder. You weren't mad, but you wanted to tease him a bit. "Let go off of me."

"No," you felt him smile on your shoulder before he kissed it.

You giggled and rested your head on his shoulder. "I love you."

"I love you." He kissed your cheek. "I love you more than anything, you know?"

"I know," you smiled, caressing his arms . "But I like when you say it."

"I love you," he turned you and kissed you. "I can't wait for you to have my babies."

"Hyuck..." You looked at him. "You need to know something."

"What is it?" He stroked your cheek.

You opened your mouth but Jaemin called you two interrupted. You shook your head. "Let's go before he goes crazy. I'll tell you later."

"Alright, love."

(...)

"Please repeat again why did we need your private jet to come all the way here, Taeyong?" Lena questioned him.

"It was an 8 hour ride. I was not going to drive," He shrugged.

Jaemin laughed. "I could've drove."

"You're not the best at driving," you teased and everyone laughed.

"I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that," Jaemin rolled his eyes.

You all were in a suv on your way to the hangar where Taeyong's private jet was. You were coming back to the city after spending a few days out of town.

You didn't tell Donghyuck that you were pregnant since you weren't alone and when you have time for yourselves, he fell asleep. So you decided to tell him as soon as you two were home. It would be better.

After you arrived at the hangar destination, you got off of the car and grabbed your belongings. All of you went to the airstrip where the jet was already waiting for you. Everyone started to board the plane when Donghyuck let go off your hand. You looked at him. "I think I left my wallet in the car. I'll be right back."

"I'm gonna wait for you here," you say nicely.

He nodded and walked back in the hangar where the black suv was. He found his wallet underneath the pilot's seat and took it. He started walking towards the plane again and smiled when he saw you on the staircase. God, he was so in love with you.

A deafening sound echoed in his ears.

He blinked.

Donghyuck could you see running towards him - almost in slow motion - you were mouthing something and staring at him with fear, pain and… shock in your eyes.

Why were you shocked?

The right side of his chest felt sticky, and cold but warm in the middle. Weirdly warm. But it was not warm, it was hot and it hurt. Not like a punch. It was more like a pinch, that was blossoming into a cramp - a horrible, numbing cramp.

He was feeling light-headed and the cramp in his chest was getting worse. You were getting closer, but the distance between you two was considerable.

Another bang reached his ears a second later, it was loud, deafening, it made his ears ring. He stepped, no, stumbled to the side. Turning his head to see you, the look of acknowledgement and horror on your face.

He felt his blood on his hands, the heat and pain building up in his chest, the warmth of the sun seeping into his back. His knees gave way and he started falling backwards as his hand stretched out towards you.

His head hit the pavement with a startling thud and it felt strangely numb, he could hear you yelling for an ambulance. He blinked, closed his eyes for a second and suddenly you were there above him. You were cradling his face, saying something, tapping his face too hard.

"Hyuck!"

"-pen your eyes!"

"Come on Hyuck Please! Don't do this!"

"Babe, love, Donghyuck! You're okay, you're alright, you're gonna be fine. Please stay with me."

His back arched and he tried to curl onto his side and make the pain go away. His blood was still pouring out of him like a grotesque tap that couldn't be turned off.

"I-I love s-so m-uch. Y-you're t-the b-est t-thing t-that happened t-to m-me" He rambled.

"Don't do that. Don't say goodbye," you spoke, your voice cracking as a few stray tears fell from your eyes.

The blood that was coating his throat started clogging it instead and he couldn't breathe.

"You are going to be fin-" he choked

"It won't" You cut him off. "Hyuck, please. I'm pregnant, we're gonna have a kid. You're gonna be a dad. The best."

He tried to smile and looked at you weakly. "Take c-care o-of t-them, okay? I-I l-love yo-"

He was cut off by the blood in his throat that he coughed out onto his chin. The pain was spreading everywhere and numbing his brain.

And he took his last breath. He was smiling up at you.

“No. No! I’m not losing you! Donghyuck! I just got you! I'm not losing you! I’m not losing you… I’m not losing you.” You cried as you frantically shook him trying to bring him back to life but to no avail.

He was gone.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You were supposed to marry Donghyuck and raise your kid together. And two stray bullets weren't supposed to have struck in your fiancé's chest.

You weren't supposed to be trembling in front of the small white tombstone etched with the name Lee Donghyuck, but it was happening anyway.

You just wanted him to hold you; to tell you that everything happens for a reason, as he always did. You imagined him wrapping his arms around your waist like he always had, the way you now held yourself, alone.

Furiously wiping the tears from under your eyes,you began to make your way to your real destination from the graveyard. As you opened the door to the small doctor’s office, she gave you a soft sympathetic smile.

“Come on in, let’s see how your little bean is holding up.”

You nodded, sitting on the sturdy table for examinations in the back of the small office. You didn’t really notice the colors on the walls anymore, your eyes skipping over the medical tools meticulously lined up in the doctor’s preference of order.

You were four months along.

“Everything seems to be going well with the baby. But Y/N, you know that you need to eat more. It isn’t safe.”

Safe. That word didn’t seem real to you anymore.

“Are you hearing me? Please, I don’t like you living alone.”

You nodded. "I'll try."

(...)

Time went on. You were slowly running out of tears to cry around the eight month of your pregnancy. You still stopped by the graveyard to say hello to Donghyuck.

When she got back to your house, you found Taeyong parking outside. He had always been kind to you, respecting your space and distance.

“Hey you,” he greeted you smiling.

"Hi," you greeted back.

"I brought you some lunch."

You smiled politely. "Let 's go inside. I'm cold."

You got inside your house and went to the kitchen. Taeyong placed the food containers on the table. "How's the baby?"

"They're fine," you smirked. "Although I get heartburns very easily."

He nodded. "I'm glad you're doing better."

You sighed. "I'm... trying."

"And you know I'm here to help."

"I know."

You suddenly let out a low groan. He turned to you abruptly. “Are you okay, is the baby alright?” Taeyong, with a panicked look on his face.

“Umm, I think...I think I’m having contractions.”

It took a minute for this to process with him. "Okay, okay.. Okay, I'm gonna take you to the hospital? Okay?"

You nodded. "Is too soon, oh My God."

(...)

Taeyong ran his hand through his hair for what seemed like the millionth time as he paced in the waiting room.

He glanced down the hall where he knew your room was. He got called by a nurse. He went to your room and saw you connected to a lot of medical stuff and his heart ached.

You were in pain and when you saw him, you reached for his hand. Taeyong, grabbing your hand not even caring about your tight grip as he kissed your head, sweat be damned.

“(Y/N) ...it’s almost time for you to push, waiting any longer will mean an even greater risk for your baby.”

You nodded but let out a shuddering breath.

As nurses started coming into the room, he pressed another kiss to your head.

“You can do this.” He whispered.

Minutes later, you began to push.

He looked back at the baby girl. She was beautiful. And so small.

Taeyong looked up.

“She’s a fighter, just like his dad..”

Tears filled your eyes again.

Taeyong knew he wouldn't go anywhere, not since he had you all from himself and had gotten rid of Donghyuck.

He smiled, holding the baby. He was a dad.

Alternate ending is finally here !!

[vrednic]

favors | collateral damage (pt.3)

Teen Wolf x Vampire Diaries AU

Prompt: Teen Wolf, but with a twist. Scott McCall has a twin sister… and she falls in love with Derek Hale.

Summary: Derek finds himself in trouble, and Scott is nowhere to be found. Will Serena be the one to save the day?

Word Count: 3,026

Author’s Note: I hope you all enjoy part 3! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading :)

*PART ONE*

*PART TWO*

-----------------------------------------------------

Two weeks had passed since my first full moon. Scott and I still weren’t on speaking terms, and we both seemed to prefer it that way. On school days, he’d leave the house early to avoid running into me. We didn’t have any classes together, so that made it easy to stay out of each other’s way at school. He had lacrosse practice most days, and they usually ran late, so by the time he got home, I was already in bed. He had also made things official with Allison, so naturally she consumed every other spare second of his life. Part of me felt immense relief because I was able to delay the inevitable confrontation that we would have to have at some point. However, the other part of me also longed for her best friend. I wanted to blame the full moon for the harsh words I said and the dismissive manner that I treated him, but I couldn’t. It was all me.

Scott was the “It” boy when it came to the supernatural. Someway, somehow, he always found himself in the middle of whatever supernatural crisis threatened Beacon Hills. He was a reliable friend and a fantastic leader in-the-making. I recognized that Scott now held the responsibility to save and protect those who were oblivious to our world, as well as those who were a part of it, but my jealousy obstructed all rational thought. I wanted my brother to be there for me the way he was there for complete strangers; the way he meddled in situations that didn’t even concern him. When he didn’t show up the one time I needed him, the disappointment was simply too much to bear.

-----------------------------------------------------------

I was sitting in biology, filling in the bubble for the second to last question of the test we were taking. The room was completely silent except for the swift sound of pencil on paper. I looked up at the clock above the chalkboard, and the hands indicated that there were forty-five minutes remaining in class. I flipped back through the booklet and revised all of my answers. When I was content with all of my responses, I pushed up from my desk and walked towards the front to turn in my test. As I neared the front of the classroom, the smell of blood invaded my nostrils. The scent was too faint to be coming from within the room, so that meant that its source was somewhere on the other side of the classroom door. I finally reached the teacher’s desk and placed my booklet on top of the thin pile of completed tests that were already there. I grabbed a copy of tonight’s homework located on the podium next to the desk, and made my way back to my seat.

As I tucked the homework sheet into my biology notebook, my supernatural hearing picked up the sound of two distinct voices coming from the hallway.

“Where’s Scott McCall?” asked the first voice.

The second person shut their locker, the sound of metal on metal ringing in my ears. They spoke gruffly. “Why should I tell you?”

“Because I asked you politely, and I only do that once.” This time I was able to identify the first voice immediately. It was Derek.

“Hm. Okay, tough guy,” responded the second voice. It was low and laced with arrogance, just like Jackson’s. “How about I help you find him if you tell me what you’re selling him? 

There was a pause. Then, “Well? What is it? Is it Dianabol? HGH?”

“Steroids?” responded Derek, his tone unimpressed.

“No, Girl Scout cookies,” scoffed Jackson. “What the hell do you think I’m talking about? Oh, and, by the way, whatever it is that you’re selling, I’d probably stop sampling the merchandise. You look wrecked.”

There were a few counts of silence. I closed my eyes and focused my hearing, not wanting to miss a single word.

“I’ll find him myself,” said Derek at last.

“No, we’re not done here!” growled Jackson. There was a sound of movement, and then I heard a body slam up against the lockers. I heard Jackson’s soft groans of discomfort as Derek walked away, his feet dragging slightly as he did.

I knew that it was none of my business, but curiosity got the best of me. I got up from my seat and walked swiftly, but subtly, towards the teacher’s desk.

“Can I use the bathroom?”

Mrs. Grey stopped typing at her computer long enough to peer up at me through her glasses. “Sure, just take the--”

“Great, thanks!” I said, wasting no time to rush out into the hall. Jackson was leaning against a row of lockers on the opposite side of the hall, clutching the back of his neck. I smelled blood on him, but the scent didn’t match up with the one from earlier. We made eye contact for just a moment.

“What the hell are you looking at?” he snapped at me.

I shrugged.

I looked down both ends of the hall, but Derek was already gone. Luckily for me, he left a trail of blood in his wake. I followed the scent past the double doors that led to the soccer and lacrosse fields. I walked onto the middle of the grass and scanned my surroundings. At first glance, both fields seemed empty, but the scent was still present. The only problem was that I could no longer pinpoint which direction it was coming from. The wind had picked up, so now the scent seemed to be coming from everywhere. I decided to move my search onto the perimeter of the field. I checked under the bleachers, by the concession stands, and in the bathrooms, but there was still no sign of Derek. I let out a sigh of frustration and began walking back to the school.

I stopped mid stride when I thought I saw movement from the corner of my eye. I turned, and my breath caught in my throat. Derek was slumped against the side of the storage shed, thick black blood dripping down his left arm. There was a pool of it right beside him growing by the minute. His face was pale and slicked with sweat, and there were dark grey bags under his eyes. If I didn’t know he was a werewolf with supernatural healing abilities, I’d probably think he was dead. I ran over to him and crouched down to his eye level. His eyes found mine; they were no longer cold, but pleading.

“Scott,” he mumbled. “Find Scott.”

I ignored him and instead examined the bullet wound in his arm. The bullet itself seemed to have melted into his skin, glowing a sickly silver-green color. The area around it was swollen and his veins were turning black, a clear sign of a fast-spreading infection.

“I’m gonna get you out of here,” I told him matter-of-factly. “Whatever it is you were shot with, it doesn’t look good. I need to get you someplace safe so we can find a way to fix this.”

“You need to find Scott,” he repeated, breathless.

“I’ll find Scott,” I assured him. “But after I get you out of here. There’s no way I’m leaving for dead here.”

He looked up at me with those beautiful, tired eyes. He knew there was no point in protesting, so he mobilized every ounce of strength within him and tried to slide up to a standing position. I came over next to him, positioning his good arm around my shoulders, wrapped my arm around his torso, and attempted to begin walking. We made it a few steps before I felt him leaning out of my grasp. I stopped and gazed up at him.

“Okay, big guy. I know I’m a werewolf and all, but I’m still only 5’4. You’re almost an entire foot taller than me, so I’m gonna need you to help me out as much as you can.”

He nodded and we resumed walking. I led him across the field into the student parking lot. I found my car in the maze of vehicles and unlocked the passenger side door. As soon as Derek eased into the seat, I shut the door and came around to the other side. I started the car and pulled out of the parking lot onto the road, heading towards Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital. If we were lucky, traffic would be light at this hour, and we’d arrive in a matter of minutes. Derek looked around alarmingly and reached for the steering wheel. I stomped on the brake to stop us from veering into oncoming traffic.

“Are you crazy?” I screamed at him. “Are you trying to get us killed?”

“You can’t take me to the hospital. Anything they give me could potentially speed up the infection and kill me,” he said. He sounded exhausted, but his tone was firm nonetheless. “That, and the Argents are probably looking for me. I’m sure they’d love to finish me off before the infection gets the chance to.”

I blew out a sigh. “Where am I supposed to take you, then?”

“The animal clinic. Hopefully Deaton hasn’t left for the day. Maybe he knows about something that’ll help.”

I did as I was told and quickly made a U-turn in the opposite direction. I drove frantically, stealing glances at Derek here and there to make sure he was still breathing. His eyes remained closed the entire way, but I found comfort in the steady rise and fall of his chest.

---------------------------------------------------------

Once we arrived at the clinic, my heart sunk. Deaton’s car wasn’t in the lot, which meant we were alone and running out of time. I retrieved the spare key from behind the dumpster and hauled Derek inside, leading him to one of the nearest chairs so he could sit while I called Scott. I patted my back pocket for my phone, but it wasn’t there. I ran out to my car and searched the floor and seats for its location, but it was futile. I must have dropped it in the field while I was carrying Derek to my car. I sprinted back inside, where Derek was clutching his arm in agony. I brushed the hair from his forehead gently, which caused him to open his eyes.

“I lost my phone,” I admitted nervously. “Do you have yours?”

He shook his head. “I lost it last night after I was shot.”

Great, just great.

I stopped for a moment to collect myself. After my moment was up, I left the room to find Deaton’s office. I turned on the light and waited a moment so my eyes could adjust. When they did, I found the office phone sitting right by his computer. I picked up the phone and dialed Scott’s number. It rang for several seconds, and just when I thought the voicemail was going to cut the call short, I heard someone pick up on the other end.

“Hey, Doc,” Scott answered. “Is everything okay?”

“Scott,” I said. “You need to get to the animal clinic now. Derek’s dying.”  

There was a momentary pause of confusion. “Serena? Why are you calling me from the clinic? What’s going on?”

I walked back over to Derek and handed him the phone. “It’s Scott.”

“Listen to me carefully,” said Derek. “You need to get me the bullet, or I’m as good as dead.”

“What are you talking about? What bullet?” I heard Scott say.

I paced around the room, trying to keep my anxiety in check. I wasn’t entirely sure why I felt so affected. It’s not like Derek and I were friends. So why did the thought of him dying suddenly seem so unbearable? I could no longer stand to look at Derek. The infection was running its course, eating him from the inside out. He had begun to resemble a rotting corpse. I turned my back to him and focused my attention to the desolate road outside the window, trying to flush out any and all thoughts of death from my mind. I bit my lip, hoping that Scott would walk through the door any second now and save the day, just like he always did.

“Last night when I was looking for Peter… the Argents were there,” Derek explained. “Kate shot me with a bullet laced with wolfsbane. It’s causing some sort of infection that’ll kill me once it reaches my heart. That bullet is the only antidote.”

“Okay, I’m on it. But, uh, do you happen to know what it looks like?” asked Scott.

Derek didn’t reply. I turned around just as he fell sideways onto the floor. The phone slid out of his grasp and across the room. I heard Scott begin to panic over the line. 

“Scott, hurry!” I yelled, loud enough so he could hear. 

I dropped down on my knees next to Derek and gently patted him on the cheek, urging him to wake up, but he remained unconscious. I pressed my ear against his chest, listening for his heartbeat, but I heard nothing but silence. My own heart hammered in my ribcage and tears threatened to spill from my eyes.

“You’re not dying on me, you bastard,” I whispered, wiping away the tears that had managed to escape from the corner of my eyes.

I placed the heel of my hand in the center of his chest and began doing chest compressions. After thirty compressions, I lowered my lips down onto his, giving him two rescue breaths. I was surprised by how soft and warm his lips felt against mine. I continued administering steady compressions, but there was no sign of resuscitation.

I stopped and stared at his lifeless body. I refused to let him fade away just like that, but I had no idea what else to do. Scott would have figured something out; he always did. But I wasn’t Scott.

I felt so small, so useless.

So defeated.

Derek jerked abruptly, gasping for air. His eyes fluttered open and scanned the room until they met mine. I flashed a small smile and gave his hand a small squeeze of reassurance. I helped him up to a sitting position on the floor.

He tipped his head back against the wall and gave a low groan. “I know you thought you lost me there for a minute, but trust me. I don’t go so easily.”

I managed a soft laugh. “I know.”

--------------------------------------------------------

What seemed like an eternity later, Scott finally strolled through the front door of the clinic with Stiles in tow, holding a small golden bullet in his hand. He crouched down next to Derek, who took the bullet immediately and screwed off the tip to release its contents. He pulled out a lighter from his pocket and lit the wolfsbane on fire. Ignited, it emitted a dark blue smoke, which irritated my nasal passages. I set my discomfort aside and focused my attention on Derek, who gathered the ashes into his hand and rubbed them onto his wound. He let out a sharp roar of pain that lasted several seconds, but he healed almost instantaneously. I let out an audible sigh of relief which seemed to go unnoticed by all the boys in the room.

Scott extended his hand and helped Derek up. He still looked a little worse for wear, but the rosy hue of his cheeks was starting to return. The eyebags were gone, leaving behind the olive green eyes that were once again fixed into a hard stare.

“Glad you’re okay, man. I’ll see you around,” Scott told Derek.

Stiles mumbled under his breath. “Hopefully not anytime soon.”

Derek shook Scott’s hand firmly-- an expression of silent gratitude.

Scott and Stiles walked past me toward the front door. Just when I thought Scott was about to walk out, he turned and walked back, stopping in front of me. He gave me a bear hug and kissed my right temple. 

“I’ll see you at home.” He pulled away and walked outside to Stiles’ Jeep. I was about to walk out myself when I heard Derek call my name. I whipped my head around to face him and found him looking at me with those sharp, penetrating eyes. There was an unreadable expression on his face. 

“Why did you do it?” He asked me softly.

“Do what?” But I knew exactly what he meant.

“Save me.”

I felt my pulse quicken and my cheeks heat up. I looked down at my feet and cleared my throat. I hated the thought of potentially stumbling over my words after one small sign of attention from Derek Hale. After a few counts I finally mustered up the courage to look up again. He was still staring.

“I never got the chance to say thank you,” I told him. “For risking your life on the night of my first full moon. You saved me.”

He took this into consideration. “Well, I didn’t do it--”

“For me?” I asked. “I know.” I recognized deep down why Derek did what he did that night, but it hurt much more to admit it out loud. “I know that you did it for Scott, and that’s okay. I know his alliance is important to you.”

He opened his mouth to protest. “That’s not what I was--”

I suddenly felt hyper aware of how ridiculous I sounded trying to explain myself to him. The warm, fuzzy feeling of attraction was gone. Instead, it was replaced by a hollow emptiness and a fiery desire to get the hell away from here-- from him.

“A life for a life, Derek,” I stated bluntly. “You saved my life, and now I’ve saved yours. Don’t read too much into it. I was simply returning the favor.”

Without so much as a goodbye, I turned on my heel and walked out into the cold autumn night. Every fiber of my body wanted to look back, to fetch for some sort of reaction, but I couldn’t go down that path. Not with Derek. I knew better than that.

I needed to be better than that.

TAGS

@broco8​

@slytherinrising​

[sideshowyelling]

Knocked Down, Dragged Out, pt. 1

I decided I wanted to post this properly here instead of just a link. V meets a ripper, one that’s too good for the slums of Night city...

“That’s not his real name. I refuse to believe that’s his actual name.”

Really it had been the way that Jackie had talked Viktor up as a whole that made him seem too good to be true, like some unobtainable perfect ripper who would be able to patch V up no matter what shit show they had just gone through time and time again. Good work, trustworthy guy, and cheap? The guy might as well have been a walking contradiction if anything Jackie was telling him actually held any weight. Most of the time you were lucky to get two out of three, and finding someone who was the whole package deal… well V had always figured that they would have a better chance at winning one of those rigged fucking lottery pools than finding someone like Jackie was describing.

“Viktor Vektor? Sure fuckin’ is, his mama gave him that name. Think she must have hated him or somethin’… I’m telling you though V, Ol’ Vik’s the best in town, mark my fuckin’ word.” Jackie said, leaning against the food stall that the two had stopped at for a bite to eat just outside of V’s megabuilding.

“Yeah? There’s ripperdocs all over town, what makes this one so special?” V asked, not bothering to look up from their own takeout container that they were doing little more than picking from at this point.

“What can I say? He’s got the magic touch, make you feel better than you have in years, I guarantee.” Jackie said.

It wasn’t hard to see just how excited Jackie was to be able to introduce V to Viktor, to make a connection between an old friend, and his newest partner in crime. He’d been mentioning that he had a guy he wanted to have V meet if they were going to be working together as closely as they were, they needed someone who could put them back together again after a rough job if they were ever going to really make it big in this city after all. This wasn’t just a doctor to Jackie though, no, this guy was so much more and it showed.

“Come on Jack, is he a ripper or a joy-toy? I really can’t tell with the way you’re talking about him...” V asked.

The laughter that got out of Jackie was a bit surprising to V, but it was deep and genuine so it brought a smile to their face all the same. “Oh man, tell that one to his face, he’ll get a good laugh out of it too.” Jackie said, finally finishing up his own food before he tossed his to-go container into a nearby trashcan as he stood up from his seat. V followed suit, crossing their arms over their chest as they followed after him. Jackie may have been just about as excited as V had ever seen him before, but they still had their apprehensions about the whole thing.

“If he’s so good at what he does, and for fuckin’ zilch compared to the prices of some other docs around town, then… why the hell haven’t I heard of him before? I’m no fixer but I still keep a pretty damn good ear to the ground, especially in this part of town.” They said.

“Simple, cause he deals in referrals only for his appointments. Doc’s gotta be able to trust their patient every bit as much as their patient’s gotta trust them, right? I haven’t brought too many chooms to see him before, so consider yourself lucky V, you’re getting the preem slumcare-healthcare today.” Jackie said.

“Low prices and a short patient list, sounds like a good way to go out of business to me.” V said with a shake of their head, staring down at the ground as they made their way through the streets with Jackie at their side. Just a short walk from their apartment was what Jackie had told them. How fucking convenient.

“Trust me, it ain’t about the money for him, V, you’ll see.” Jackie assured, clapping V on the shoulder and dragging them closer until they were walking side to side with Jackie’s arm thrown over them. They looked up at him, and the excited gleam in his eyes was enough to ease their concerns just a little bit.

Their short walk ended with them standing inside one of the last places that V expected to be that day; a shop front that not only dealt in spiritualism, an already niche interest in a city so grounded and built on the bodies of corporate sellouts, but one that was ran by Jackie’s own damn girlfriend. She might have been the last person they expected to see, but V greeted her with a smile all the same, giving a quick look around the eclectic shop at the trinkets and knick-knacks for sale as Jackie went to lean across the front desk to steal a kiss from Misty.

“Hey baby, Vik ready for us yet?” Jackie asked, and Misty shook her head, pointing her thumb towards the back of the shop as she spoke.

“Not yet, he’s got Laurie down there right now. She was running real late today and… well, you know Vik, he’s not gonna turn her away unless he has to, not when she was as haggard looking as she was when she finally got here. Shouldn’t be long now though, I’ll let you know as soon as his chair’s empty and wiped down.” She said, looking between V and Jackie both before motioning to her own empty shop chair. “Maybe while you’re waiting I could offer you some of my services? On the house...”

“Awwe, ain’t that sweet, V? VIP treatment for the both of us.” Jackie said, pushing himself off the counter and making his way over to the chair to have a seat while they waited.

“I can’t say I’m surprised Jackie,” V said, watching as a small smirk spread on Misty’s lips, and her eyes stayed locked on him as she followed Jackie over towards her chair to kneel down beside him. “I think the shopkeep has a bit of a crush on you...”

“Oh yeah? Maybe I ought to see if I can get her number then...” Jackie mused with a playful wink aimed at his girlfriend, already admiring the hit of a flush on her cheeks with his light teasing.

“If you don’t I sure as hell will...” V said, though no sooner than the words left their lips did V lift their hands up in a defensive way when Jackie shot them the nastiest look he could, silently daring them to continue that train of thought. “Kidding, you know I’m kidding. Not about to step on any toes, especially not yours. Besides, you two might as well be pure sugar, gonna make me fuckin’ puke with how sweet guys are…. You better tip her well though, Jackie, I mean it.”

“Oh I tip her real good V, don’t you worry about that.” Jackie said, cackling to himself before grunting as Misty reached out to place her hand in the center of Jackie’s chest and give him a little shove to get him laying back flat in the chair. She may not have been the strongest person ever, but V knew better than to assume she couldn’t handle herself. Once Jackie was laid back in the chair, he gave her a sheepish grin and the best puppy dog eyes he could muster, but she didn’t seem as weak to them as V was.

“Watch what you’re saying, Jackie, or when V heads down I’ll pull out my acupuncture kit.” Misty said lowly.

V watched as Jackie’s expression quickly morphed into a pained grimace, and he jabbed a thumb up towards Misty as he turned towards V to explain. “She’s still learning...” He said grimly, before tilting his head back to look up at Misty again. “Babe, you know I’m more than happy to let you practice on me, but V’s appointment ain’t gonna last long enough for somethin’ like that. Just introducing them to Vik and getting them in his system, you know?”

“Ooh, that’s right,” Misty said, turning her attention over to where V was busy flipping through a little booklet that Misty had set out for sale on star signs. “You haven’t met Viktor before, have you? Are you Nervous, V?” She asked.

For a moment V paused and looked up in thought, because really their anxiety about the appointment had been coming and going since the night before. They couldn’t quite place why, but it would creep up on them at odd moments. Here and now though, when they were watching Jackie and Misty talk about it with excited looks in their eyes… “No? Not really, why? Should I be?” They asked. “With the way Jackie has been talking about the guy, it sounds like I’m about to have a new best friend.”

“I meant more… well, just going to see a new ripper can be a little stressful sometimes, especially one not as well known. He doesn’t get new patients very often, and there’s not a lot of buzz on the street about him, and that can make some people uneasy.” Misty said with a small smile. “Dr. Vektor’s got a bit of a grumpy face, sure, but he’s actually a sweetheart if you’re doing good by him.” She assured.

“Oh-ho Misty you better be careful talking about Vik like that, would hate to get him griping about people thinking he’s ‘going soft’ or something like that.” Jackie said with a deep laugh.

“Where the hell did you even meet this guy, Jack?” V asked.

“Met him in a fight actually, boxing match years ago that was damn near fuckin’ legendary man. Never met someone who’s given me as big a run for my money… I laid him out flat in the end though, had him seeing stars I think.” Jackie said, but even as he boasted there wasn’t really a smug air around him. He looked more like he was fondly reminiscing on the day he punched his friend’s lights out.

“You know, the more you talk about him, the less I actually believe the guy even exists.” V said. No sooner than they had said this though, a green light accompanied by a low buzzer went off on Misty’s desk, drawing everyone in the room’s attention to it. Jackie patted the arms of the chair he was sat in as he pushed himself up, Misty standing beside him to lead them both to the back room.

“Yeah? Well saddle up, V, because you’re about to meet him.”

What V was lead out to was a rather nasty looking back alley, littered with trash, broken down furniture, and what V could only assume might have been a few straggler Piranhas who had pushed themselves too far, as well as the general homeless. They weren’t sure this was really the ideal place to open a good clinic at, but then again this was the Red-light district, and it probably wasn’t much worse than anywhere else Viktor could have set up shop in the area. V couldn’t help but wonder if maybe the fact that Viktor’s clinic was back here might have been one of the reasons these haggard looking city slummers had gathered there in the first place.

“Misty I’ll be back up in just a few minutes, wanna give V a proper introduction instead of just sending them down all on their little lonesome.” Jackie said, and Misty reached up to pat Jackie’s cheek with a smile before she turned to head back inside her own shop.

“Good luck V!” She called out to them, the door closing behind her only a moment later.

There was a set of stairs that lead down to what V could only describe as an underground basement, and the sheer absurdity of such a sketchy location hosting a good doctor was a little baffling to them. They weren’t worried though, especially as Jackie slung an arm over their shoulder and lead them down into the clinic’s dim lighting. They stepped through the door at the bottom of the stairs, only to come face to face with a gate, and before it’s automatics could slide it open for them, V could see the doctor sitting across the room at a desk, tinkering away with what looked like a cybernetic arm.

The gate slid open and the two stepped in as Viktor looked up at the both of them. A warm smile crept onto his face when he saw Jackie, and he tossed the screwdriver he had been using up onto his desk before holding his hand up towards him. Jackie pulled away from V to go and grip it tight, slapping his other hand over the back of Vik’s in greeting as he all but pulled the guy out of his seat.

“Viky! Good to see you’re still alive and kicking down here,” Jackie said. “Brought you a new customer, that new partner of mine I’ve been tellin’ you about? Well they’re finally ready to take the plunge and get involved with a real ripper.”

“That so?” Viktor asked in a voice far deeper, gruffer around the edges than V ever would have expected from him. He leaned around Jackie just a little to get a good look at V, who had stayed behind a couple of steps while the two friends caught up. “I was wondering why I had a new name listed for an appointment for today. Suppose I should have guessed it was you bringing in a stray...”

V wasn’t entirely sure what they had been expecting to see when they first met Viktor, but the man before them certainly wasn’t it. He was an older man who, despite his line of work, didn’t look as though he had an ounce of chrome in him. Now that V was a bit closer, they could see that what they had initially thought was a cyberarm was actually some sort of external tool glove that Viktor was wearing rather than him actually having anything installed.

That… wasn’t to say that Viktor didn’t look like he could go toe to toe with some of Night City’s most dangerous if he needed to. The guy worked out, that much was clear as day, and V only had to take a quick half glance around the clinic to see some of the more personal areas where a couple of weights had been left laying around from whenever Viktor had last put them to use. And even while Viktor was sat down, staring up at Jackie, it was easy to tell that the man had good height to match his build.

The glasses that Viktor had on were dark lensed, and it made it hard to see his eyes behind them, but really V didn’t need to see them in order to know that his eyes were flicking between them and Jackie both. He was probably sizing V up, making judgments on whether or not he could take V in a fight before the two of them could even exchange a word. V didn’t blame him for that, but it still left them feeling just a tad bit on edge.

Before V could introduce themselves or Viktor could even ask about them, Jackie motioned with a wide sweeping arm towards V and waved them over. “V, I want you to meet Viktor Vektor. Vik, this is V, best partner in crime I have had in a long time now.” Jackie said, trailing off just a little as Viktor stood up to meet V halfway as they approached.

“Uh-hu, it’s nice to put a face to the name… first time here and you’re already a tad bit infamous in this clinic, you know that right?” Viktor asked as he extended his bare hand to shake V’s, and even if his tone seemed almost a tad bit hesitant, the nod he gave and the small smile that came with it took the edge off of his words.

“What, Jackie been shit talking me behind my back again?” V asked, giving Jackie a playful side-eye as they took Viktor’s hand and gave it a firm shake.

“Just heard a few of your more recent gigs is all, if not from Jackie then they tend to run up the grapevine through Misty.” Viktor explained, before he stepped back towards his desk after pointing across the room towards the only part of the clinic that actually looked like it was a professional medical set up rather than an underground gym locker. “Why don’t you go and park yourself over there for a minute? I’ll be right with you, just gotta finish tightening up a few loose screws before we get started.”

V shot a quick look to Jackie, who simply nodded and gave them a little nudge forward towards the operation station before he himself went to lean up against the wall near the Clinic’s front gate. The double thumbs up that he gave them was enough to get them rolling their eyes, but it did put them at ease as they made their way over to wait for Viktor.

The clinic really didn’t offer much in the way of comfort for it’s patients, not in it’s visuals anyway. As V took a seat in the chair and had a look around, the place really only gave off the vibes of a joint where you would go expecting to get some shady, illegal cyberware implanted, only to wake up a day or two later in some ice bath, if you were lucky of course. The only real lighting came from the bright surgical lights hanging over head, and a few neon signs that Viktor had laying around more as decoration than anything else. The Kiroshi display looked as though it had been jacked from right off the street somewhere, and as far as V knew, that may have very well been the case.

V continued to let their eyes wander around the clinic and just take everything in while Jackie seemed more than happy to make a bit of small talk with Viktor while he grabbed a few things off of his desk and got his shit together after his last appointment.

“You’re never gonna guess where I picked V up, Vik, really is a wild story.” Jackie said, and Viktor glanced up at him for half a second before giving an amused scoff.

“Do tell? What kind of crazy did you drag in here this time, Jackie?” Viktor asked. It wasn’t meant as an insult by any means, and V didn’t take it as such. No, the way he said it honestly sounded like someone who had seen Jackie get into his fair share of trouble, and if Viktor was anything like Jackie had described to them, then he had probably been the one to put him back into one piece nine times out of ten. “You ever gonna just meet someone casually in the street instead of landing yourself in a heap of trouble with a complete stranger?”

“Vik if you want meet-cute then this is about as good as it gets in Night City. Found ‘em trying to nab the same damn luxury car as me, couldn’t let them get in the way of a stack of eddies though, you know?” Jackie said, a fond grin on his face as he looked over towards V.

“Fucker hadn’t said two words to me before he had the business end of a gun pressed against my head.” V spoke up, leaning back in the chair just a bit as Viktor finally made his way over after kicking his rolling stool over with practiced ease. “We didn’t even have time to fight about it before the cops were stormin’ us, had us face down on the ground…. We… had something of a man on the inside though, so here we are to tell the tale?”

Viktor let out an amused huff at their rather troubling first encounter. “It’s always just that, isn’t it Jackie? Some wild, lucky break that keeps you from being flatlined and dumped off somewhere in the middle of nowhere.” He said, taking a seat beside V before pointing towards the exit. “Now go on up and let me get to work here. I’ll send V along once we’re through, shouldn’t take too long but we gotta get through all the preliminaries first and foremost. How about you tell me the whole story over a drink later this evening?”

“Yeah, I get it, I don’t really wanna sit around and watch V fill out a datapad anyway.” Jackie said, pushing off the wall and turning to make his way out. “Vik if you really want that drink then you’re on, Coyote Cojo tonight.” Jackie said, pointing at V. “V, I’ll be up in Misty’s shop, I ain’t in a hurry but come find me when you’re done. You’re in good hands alright?” He said before stepping out of the clinic.

V nodded and waved Jackie off a bit absentmindedly as Viktor handed them a decent sized datapad with what looked to be a blank medical file pulled up on it, an editable one. Their lips twitched down into a small frown as they looked it over, scrolling to the bottom of the page and then back up again while Viktor pulled up a few scanners on his own data terminal.

It took Viktor a few minutes to actually look up at V as he set things up, but after only a half glance over and seeing that V was just sitting there, staring down at the datapad in their hands with a confused look on their face, he turned towards them. It didn’t actually look like they had made any progress on it, and if they needed help with anything on it, he wanted to make sure they got it.

“What is it? Is something wrong?” Viktor asked.

V didn’t say anything for a moment before shaking their head, holding the datapad up just a little higher before finally beginning to fill it out, starting by typing in their alias. “No it’s just… well, I’ve been to my fair share of rippers before. Never had one hand me paperwork to fill out though.” They said, and Viktor rolled his eyes, barely visible behind his glasses.

“I’m sure Jackie has already told you a bit about what kind of business I run here, right?” Viktor asked, turning his attention back to the screen to finish getting his system all set up. “I’ll take people in off the street when they need it, but that’s not my usual practice. Most of the time when people come in to see me, they’re regulars, and it’s nice to be able to pull up a basic medical file about whoever I have on my table, at the very least.” Viktor said. “Whether or not you ever end up back here again is up to you, but if you do…. Well, lets just say I’d hate to have you wheeled in half dead and not know if the drugs I wanna use to shoot you full of are gonna fucking kill you or not.”

“...And this isn’t gonna leave your hands after I give it back to you, right?” V asked, the first hint of hesitance sneaking into their voice that Viktor had heard, even if they cut it with a small, somewhat forced laugh afterwards. “Know some weirdo fixers and solos who would pay decent eddies for deets’ like this.”

“I just want to know if you’re allergic to penicillin, not all your deepest darkest secrets.” Viktor said, pausing his typing again to point to the datapad. “Listen, you’re asking the right questions and I like that, really, but if I was gonna sell out and hand my patient’s information off to some asshole who would use it against them, or god forbid some fucking corp, do you really think I would still be set up here in the slums of the Red-light district? Been here for years now, V, and I can promise you nothing said or discussed in here gets past that gate.”

“Ok,” V said, holding up a hand to stop Viktor, a sheepish look on their face. “Ok I got it. It’s just… been a while since I’ve been to a clinic that actually does things by the book, you know? I’m a bit more used to the no-questions-asked kinda joints.” V said, and the amused smile that spread across Viktor’s face as he reached out to finish the set up and grab a jack was enough to put them at ease, to know they hadn’t offended him.

“Oh you can rest assured that’s where the ‘by the book’ nature of this clinic ends.” Viktor said, pulling the cord of the jack until it was long enough to offer up to V. “Listen, show me a bit of trust and let me in V, and I’ll do my damned best to make sure you never regret it. Now do me a favor and jack in, we can make sure you’re systems are running clean before we really get started. You can finish up the file while the scanner does it’s job.” He said. “What all are you in here for today?”

“Just a checkup is all...” V mumbled as they reached out for the jack, examining it for half a second before reaching behind their head to slot it into their port. They felt the buzz and rush of electricity course through the port as the scanner connected and began an automatic scan, sorting through the files on their processor and all the tech connected to it. As little as that might have been, it would still take a few minutes for it to go through everything, so V sat back and let their eyes give Viktor as once over before looking back to the file, slowly filling out every section that they could. “….You take an oath?” They asked.

“Hmm?” Viktor didn’t quite look like he understood what V meant at first, so they pointed towards the pouch that was securely strapped to Viktor’s right leg.

“That’s a Trauma Team satchel there, right? Were you on a TT unit?” They asked, and Viktor glanced down at the satchel that he kept a small variety of tools slotted away in. Scalpels, smaller wrenches… he’d left the screwdriver he used to tighten the joints of his exoglove with on his desk, but there was space for that there in the pouch as well. “Don’t see a lot of corporate level doctors ending up as rippers on the street… or did you just happen to pull that off some really unlucky bastard?”

Viktor paused for a moment, seeming to think back on when the pouch had been given to him, but he ended up simply giving a little shrug. “I’ve, ah… well I’ve had a number of jobs over the years, to pay the bills between sponsored fights and whatnot. Let me tell you though, the reason you don’t see a lot of corporate doctors leaving their positions isn’t because they don’t want to. It’s because it’s not that easy to do.” He explained.

“You managed to get out though… gotta ask why you left a nice cushy job like that for?” V asked lowly.

“Something just not right about killing five people for the sake of one, just because the one had more eddies invested in Platinum, you know? That’s what your contract says you have to do if you sign onto a TT unit; if anyone stands in your way of the paying customer even the slightest bit…. Take ‘em out. Couldn’t stomach it, and I don’t really care if that makes people think I’m weak. I know where my line is, and I’m not going to cross it for some eddies.” Viktor said. He was staring down at the scanners as they worked through V’s system, but it didn’t really seem like he was actually watching them. He was lost in thought for a few brief seconds before he shook his head, sitting up a little straighter as he took in a huff of breath. “So yeah, I guess you could say I took an oath. Not the drivel they all but try to brainwash TT medics with, but...”

“I get it.” V said, and they saved the file that they had finished filling out for Viktor before passing it off to him. Viktor took it and gave it a quick skim before looking back at V when they continued. “It’s respectable. Sounds like you’ve got yourself a real good thing going here. I’m glad Jackie brought me by.”

“...Right, well, people don’t just come to me because they know me for being a good guy. Scans are just about done now, and it doesn’t seem like they’re picking up any critters. Sit up, lemmie have a look at you and lets see what we can do...”

The first thing that Viktor did was go over a few of the details on the file that he’d had V fill out for him, asking questions to clarify a few things and get a bit more history on both their basic physical, and the augmentations that they already had in place. He checked their eyes for proper dilation, their reflexes, took their blood pressure, and apologized quietly under his breath as he placed a cold stethoscope against their chest to listen to their heart and lungs. He took notes as they went, adding his own little addenda to the file so he could look back on them at later time. It was care that V almost found a little… surreal. This kind of care wasn’t unheard of, but damn was it rare down in the streets.

After Viktor finally set the datapad aside, he looked back to the scanner and quickly read over some of the data that had been pulled from it. V sat patiently waiting for some kind of doctor’s order before they heard Viktor give a small, curious hum to himself before he wheeled himself closer to the chair, motioning to V to sit up and turn to the side just a little.

“You’re runnin’ on an older system, been a good few years since you last upgraded your processor?” Viktor asked. “Tilt your head for me, please? I wanna get a look at the hardware you’ve got installed. Have you had any issues with connection errors between your augmentations and your processor? Any glitches with your optics, might come across as a sort of visual lagging?” He asked.

V tilted their head to the side just a little and reached up to make sure that no hair got in the way of Viktor’s inspection. Viktor stood up from his seat and gave a small sigh as he reached out and gently grabbed V by the chin, guiding their head just a little before he leaned in to get a good look at the serial number etched into the external rim of their port. V fought the urge to hold their breath, clearing their throat instead as they thought about Viktor’s questions. “It’s served me well enough over the years, and I haven’t noticed any issues like that. I just haven’t… well, even processors a year or so old can cost a fuckton of eddies. Getting a new one just hasn’t been enough of a priority for me.” They explained as they felt Viktor lightly feeling the area around their ports as while he listened.

“Installment doesn’t seem too shoddy… doesn’t feel loose...” Viktor said slowly, and V closed their eyes as Viktor brushed a thumb over the old, small incision scar that had been left behind when the processor was first installed. His hands were warm, rough from use, but the hold he had on them was about as soft as could be. Viktor gave another little hum as he seemed to consider something, before muttering a quiet ‘Fuck it’ under his breath as his hands slipped away from V, and he kicked off the ground to wheel himself across the room.

“Now, V, most of the time I’m with you on that if the tech serves you well and you’re happy with it, as long as you keep it well maintained there’s really no need to go out and buy every shiny new upgrade that the tech companies churn out every few months. With processors though it’s actually important to keep them fairly up to date, get a new one fitted in every couple of years or so at least. If you start buying newer augmentations and try connecting them to older processors it can cause… complications.” Viktor said, pushing himself up from his seat so he could dig through a couple of his storage boxes. “Now, I have a couple processors in backstock around here somewhere, nothing terribly fancy, but you should find that they give you a higher quality performance overall, as well as talk to any future tech you get better than what you’re currently packing.”

“Well that’s nice, but I’m kinda strapped for eddies right now. Like I said earlier, I really only came in to meet you and make sure my systems were in good working order. Jack said your prices are good but… can’t be good enough for flat ass broke.” V said, knowing damn well that everything Viktor was saying was right. They may not have had any issues with their tech being incompatible with their systems just yet, partially do to the fact that they could hardly afford to get any to begin with, but really it was just a matter of time before what little they did have would fall subject to forced obsoletion.

V watched as Viktor out of the side of their eye as he continued to dig for a few seconds before he seemed to find what he was looking for. He pulled out a small white case and popped it open to check that it wasn’t empty before snapping it closed once again. With the case in hand, he turned and kicked his chair back over, following after it as he held the processor’s case up to show off to V before he sat down with a small grunt. “Eddies or not, Kid, if you want it then it’s yours. Wouldn’t take long at all to switch it out with your old one.

V turned around to face Viktor fully when he said that, eyeing up the case for half a second before shaking their head. “Can’t take a gift like that.” They said firmly.

“Then we’ll put it on a tab for you, I don’t really care either way.” Viktor said with a shrug.

“A tab?” V asked, brow furrowing in disbelief at such an offer. “Viktor you barely fuckin’ know me and you wanna open a tab for an expensive piece of tech?” They asked.

Viktor nodded, and almost more surprising to V than the offer of a line of credit from the doctor was the utter lack of hesitance from him. “Jackie vouched for you, and if he says you’re good for it then… then you’re good for it.” Viktor said, giving a small shrug as he looked down at the case in his hand, before he held it out towards V. “Look, I’m not about to go mad doctor on you and install a new processor if you really don’t want it, but I also won’t feel very good if you walk out of here without an upgrade that you’re long overdue for just because money’s tight. Choice is yours.”

Nothing in the world was free, V had learned that the tough way years ago. The deals that always came back to bite you in the ass the hardest were always the ones where you went in thinking that the gifts you were given along the way were just that. Gifts. There was always a price though, always a small string attached that would unravel everything into a tangled mess if you didn’t watch your fucking back. There had not been one soul that V had ever met that didn’t at some point come back to make demands after doing even the smallest of favors for V free of charge.

For a split second all V could think of were bloody knuckles, busted noses, broken ribcages and being left in the gutters with their eddies wiped from their account after misunderstanding the intentions behind someone’s generosity one too many times. They swallowed thickly as they stared down at the case that had been extended to them. Every instinct in their body was telling them not to take it, to just finish with the basic check up and get the hell out of there before they got roped into a shitload of trouble taking things they couldn’t afford. When they looked up at Viktor again though, the doctor had a small smile on his face so soft and encouraging that it almost looked out of place in the fucked up world they were in. V wished they could have seen his eyes better right then, but even without them they could feel the anxiety in their chest ebb away as they remembered what Jackie had said to them earlier, his voice all but ringing out in the back of their head.

‘It ain’t about the money for him, V, you’ll see.’

Slowly, so slowly, V reached out for the case and took it from Viktor. They popped it open to get a good look at the processor safely nestled inside as Viktor clapped his hands together in a satisfied manner and wheeled himself around so that he could grab a few of his surgical tools. V leaned back in the chair, reaching a hand up to brush against the ports of their processor as they stared down at the device in their hands.

“You said yourself that you would do your best to make sure I don’t regret trusting you,” V said quietly. “And Jackie vouched for you as much as he apparently vouched for me, you know?”

“Did he now? I’m almost afraid to ask what all he said…” Viktor said, motioning for V to roll over onto their side as he stood to get a better angle, adjusting the lights above them as he did so. “All good thing I’m assuming?”

V reached out to return the new processor back to Viktor and shifted onto their side with their back facing him to give him easy access to their ports. “Made you sound like a damn joy-toy with the way he was talking about you. I almost choked when he mentioned something about you having a magic touch...” They said, and the deep laugh that Viktor let out when he heard that made V want to glance over their shoulder, to see the grin they just knew he had plastered across his face. Before they could though, Viktor placed a gentle hand on the side of their head to keep them still.

“Guess I’ll have to thank Jackie later for such a kind review, but for now I’m gonna inject a bit of anesthetic, OK? Once you’re good and numb I’ll get to work. Let me know if you feel any discomfort at all.” Viktor said between a low chuckle, and as V felt the cold press of an injector against the spot just below their processor ports the anxiety came back for half a second until the pain of needles pricking their skin melted into numbness. The quiet praise that Viktor mumbled had V closing their eyes, relaxing into the chair as much as they possibly could. “Good, just try and stick still for me, alright? I’ll make this quick so you’re not laying here long.” He said.

Honestly V could have fallen asleep there just listening to Viktor talk, if he hadn’t been about to take a scalpel to the back of their head anyway.

For a few minutes after that the only thing that V could hear in the clinic was the quiet beep of machinery, and the soft clicks of Viktor’s exoglove as he worked at carefully disconnecting and extracting the processor from V’s head. As he worked, alerts popped up on V’s rather basic optical display about the missing hardware, but V ignore it as there was nothing that could be done while on the operating table. They kept their mind off of it, and tried to focus on other things.

“So… you and Jackie… he said you two met in a ring?” V asked as the silence droned on for a little too long for their liking. They hadn’t been able to tell if Viktor just wasn’t a doctor who liked to get chatty while they were working, or if he just didn’t have much to say to them in particular, but as Viktor gave a low hum and spoke up, they figured they had their answer.

“12 rounds between the two of us. NC Devils had a few of their best fighters lined up that night, myself included. Jackie came in as an outsider just looking to get in on a few pickup fights and make some quick eddies. Rinsed through some of our best fighters before he ended up in the ring with me.” Viktor said, and V heard a small metallic clink, what they could only assume was their extracted processor being set aside.

“He said he won that fight. That true?” V asked.

“I’ve got the second place certificate to prove it...” Viktor said, and the slight hint of indignation in his voice made V laugh, and Viktor’s grip on them grew just a bit tighter to keep them steady. “And then after I could see straight again, I took him out to get a drink. Ever since then he and I have been fairly close. He gets me, I get him, it just works out.”

“Cold-cocked is a bit better than a getting gun pressed to the side of the head, I suppose. Glad to know Jackie keeps a good track record of making friends.” V snorted, staring ahead at the two little beckoning cat statues resting only a few feet away on top of some of the nearby equipment. They had seen a few on Viktor’s desk as well, and could only assume that Misty was the culprit behind them.

“At least it seems like he’s got decent taste...” Viktor said with a hum as he delicately grabbed the new processor in his exoglove. “Hey, listen, after this is all said and done I want you to feel free to come on by again, OK? Wouldn’t do anyone any good to have you flatlining in some back alley because you don’t think you can afford proper care.” Viktor said. “Seen too many people’s lights go out just because they didn’t have the eddies… I’m always willing to work something out if we need to.”

“Yeah… I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks Viktor.” V said slowly, brows knitting together as they felt the new processor click easily into place. Even with their eyes closed their optical display flashed a warning about the new hardware that had been installed, but it flickered away only a few moments later as the hardware quickly began to synchronize with the rest of their system while Viktor moved to jack V back into his computer system and make sure everything was updating and running smoothly.

“Keep still now, still gotta close you up again.” Viktor said, and V held their breath as V made quick work of closing up the small incision that he’d made behind their ear. They shivered as they felt a cool, wet cloth pass gently over the back of their neck and the freshly sealed would after that, as Viktor carefully wiped up whatever blood their was before finally V was disconnected and helped to sit up straight once again. Viktor stepped away from the operation table to go and grab something off his cart. “The anesthetic will last for a while longer, probably wear off in about half an hour after you leave, so I’m going to send you off with some stim to help the healing process and keep the pain at bay. Two whiffs now, another two in an hour. If you still feel like you need to take the edge off after that you can take an additional one, but keep an eye on it ok? If you feel anything more than mild discomfort then I want you to come right back here.”

V was tempted to reach up and touch the spot that Viktor had just operated on, but they knew that probably wasn’t the best idea they’d ever had. Besides, before they could even begin to reach up, Viktor had turned back and held out a small inhaler towards them. They took and gave it a once over before Viktor nodded down to it, so V lifted it to their lips and too two deep puffs off of it. There was no real relief right away since the back of their head was still numb, but V figured that they would be thankful for it later that evening. As they pushed up from the chair and slipped the inhaler into their pocket, Viktor snagged a fresh rag off his medical station so he could clean and the sanitize his exoglove.

“Hey, listen, Viktor….” V started, only to pause as Viktor looked up from what he was doing, slowing to give them his attention. They were sure that Viktor probably had other people he would be seeing that day for appointments, but there was something about the doctor’s nature that was more laid back than pretty much everyone else they had met in Night City. He didn’t seem to be in a rush at all to see V off, just wiping off his took while patiently waiting for V to continue. “I was pretty hesitant coming in here, I don’t know if you could tell, but Jackie was right to sing such high praise about you. If this is really the way you operate, I’ll be back again, I promise. I’ll bring eddies next time to pay you back for the processor and whatever else I might decide to get.”

“You know, sometimes hearing things like that can be payment enough. I’m no charity, so don’t expect me to waive your costs every time you come in of course, but I try to do what I can you know?” Viktor said with a little shrug. “I’m looking forward to it though, V. Will you do me a favor when you head back up and tell Jackie I still fully expect him to buy me a drink later and tell me all about how the hell you two even met, the details I mean. He’s got my number.” Viktor said.

V gave a small nod at Viktor’s request, and a they shifted from foot to foot a little nervously, stuffing their hands into their pockets. “Well, what about me, Doc? Do I get your number?” They asked. “Or does that require a few more visits?”

The amused smirk that V got the pleasure of watching spread on Viktor’s lips suited him a little too well for his own good. It wasn’t like the smug, cocky grins that V was so used to seeing on anyone who had even the slightest bit of rep to their name these days, there was something far more genuine behind it that V couldn’t quite place. It didn’t make them feel sick to their stomach just seeing it, and really that said way more than it should have.

Viktor set the wipe he had been using aside and he made his way across the room back towards his desk. “I don’t think that’s too much to ask… promise not to make me regret it?” He asked, and V watched as he leaned over to grab his holo off it to offer out to V for a scan. Quick and easy way to transfer numbers, and as soon as V saw the gesture, their face lit up with a smile and they pulled their own holo out to tap it against Viktor’s.

“I’ll do my damned best, how about that?” V asked with a laugh as the quick transfer of information completed and they saw the image and name that autofilled into their device as soon as the connection between them was made. Once they were satisfied, they tucked their holo away back into their pocket and stepped backwards towards the gate, giving a small wave as they did so. “Thanks Viktor. I’ll pass the word onto Jackie, and… and you’ll see me again real soon.” They promised.

“Good. See you later V, and take care...”

* * *

“Alright then, let me see it V,” Jackie said, making a motion for V to turn around and show off, like he would actually be able to see anything other than the small healing cut and V’s processor ports. “Viktor really spoil you and give you some free tech?”

“Not free, I’m gonna pay him back it’s just… I guess he figured I’m more likely to be able to come back and see him again if I have a better system running inside me, you know?” V said as they tilted their head just a little so that Jackie could get a better look.

“Mm… well he’s not wrong, a souped-up you is always gonna be better than a dead you. I’m just a little surprised is all. He’s been known to make a deal or two for someone who needs it, but normally he at least waits to see if he’s even gonna see you a second time before he starts doin’ stuff like this.” Jackie said, reaching out to brush his thumb gently over the port before he dropped his hand to his side and gave a little shrug.

“Guess he just puts a lot of weight on your word then, Jackie.” V said with a snort. “I’ll try and bring you credit, I guess, but it’s not like the guy doesn’t deserve to be paid back… fuck Jack, if he’s being honest, really doesn’t care whether or not I actually pay him back for this… you’ve got a yourself a fuckin’ diamond in the rough there.” V said with an almost dreamy sigh. “… By the way Jackie, he told me to remind you that he still wants to go out for drinks later.”

“Right, like I could forget a promise to go drinking, fuckin’ been a hot second since we’ve had a bit of downtime so I think we all more than deserve to cut loose tonight,” Jackie said, before crossing his arms over his chest. “You are coming with, right? Or are you planning on skipping out as soon as we get out of here?”

“I dunno...” V sucked a hiss of breath through their teeth, considering for a moment whether or not it would be a good idea to join the two, if for no other reason than to take the night off after they and Jackie’s recent flux of work, like Jackie had said. “Kinda seems like he just wants to catch up with you, you know?”

“Ahh don’t worry about that V, if he wanted to hang out one on one with just me, he could. We see each other more often than you think though, even with all the wicked jobs we’ve been getting lately.” Jackie said. “I try and stop in to say hello whenever I pay a visit to my Pretty lady’s joint, as long as he ain’t busy anyway.”

“Jackie, I don’t think that-” V started, but Jackie quickly cut them off as he stepped closer and threw an arm around their shoulders to pull them flush against his side.

“Come on V, Ol’ Vik likes you, I can tell. What with him puttin’ in a piece of hardware like that for you on the first date?” Jackie said, and he got that stupid look on his face that he always did then he thought he knew something that V hadn’t quite caught onto just yet. That was very rarely actually the case. “Just come have a couple of drinks. We’ll tell him all about how you and I ended up face down on the ground after a carjacking gone wrong. It’ll be a good time, V, you’ll make a friend, a real friend, I promise.

V gave a small sigh as Jackie pushed and urged them to join in on the night’s outing, something still not quite setting right about trying to slot themselves in between two old friends when they didn’t know Viktor that well yet. There was something about the way that Jackie could talk something, anything really, up that could melt the heart of the toughest gangers in Night City, and it was making it hard to think of any excuses as to why they couldn’t join. Out of the corner of their eye they could see Misty had a look of utter amusement on her face, though she did hide it fairly well all things considered. All they knew is that she wouldn’t be backing them up on this anytime soon.

“Alright, fine, I’ll come out for a drink or two, but don’t expect me to stick around the whole night, OK?” V finally said, holding their hands up in defeat as they caved, and the way that Jackie’s face absolutely lit up really did make it worthwhile.

“Oh that’s what I’m talking about! I’ll set it up, alright? You just run on home to gussy up, and I’ll send you the deets as soon as Vik and I get them all squared away.” Jackie said, giving V a light shove towards the door as he leaned back against the counter Misty was stood behind. “By the time you get settled in with us tonight, you’ll be wishing the night would never end!” He promised.

“I’m holding you to that!” V said, pointing sharply at Jackie and giving the firmest face they could muster, but it quickly broke as they laughed and waved him off. “I’ll be ready, just keep me up to date. Misty, it was good to see you, don’t let Jackie keep you distracted here alright?” They said as they started towards the door, not seeing the light playful shove that Misty gave Jackie in response. Jackie mumbled something in a playful tone to her that V didn’t quite catch as they stepped out into the loud and busy streets of the Night City Red-light district…

* * *

“There, I see his car, Vik’s already here.” Jackie said, pointing towards a small, dark blue vehicle parked right by the front door. “Probably inside already chattin’ someone up.” He said, and V squinted at the car that Jackie had pointed at before turning to pull in beside it.

“Why the hell does Viktor drive a fucking tiny ass clown car looking thing?” V mumbled as they parked and killed the engine.

“The MaiMai? Can’t blame him for liking to keep it simple, not everyone needs the biggest baddest ride on the street, especially if you don’t actually get out as much.” Jackie said with a shrug, getting out and looking over the top of the car towards the driver’s side, with V doing the same to look back at him. “Why? You really got a problem with it?”

“Just hard to imagine a guy as big as him driving around in a tiny ass car like that.” V said. “Also, like I said before, looks like a fuckin’ clown car.”

“Oh Vik loves it. Trust me, nothing’s better than seeing some poor road-raging asshole’s face go pale when they come to try and pick a fight, only to have Vik step out instead of whatever small spindly fuck they were expecting. He towers over them almost every time.” Jackie said. “Seen it happen first hand, kills me every time.”

Just imagining the scene that Jackie had described was enough to make V laugh. They locked the car up and stepped around towards the entrance of El Coyote Cojo, stopping only to playfully jab Jackie in the center of his chest. “Have a hard time imagining you sitting in a fuckin’ MaiMai too. The two of you crammed in a little two-seater like that? Fuckin’ laughable is what that is.” They said, only to be proven right as Jackie cracked up as he thought back to it, and really it had been just as absurd as V assumed.

Jackie shoved V’s hand away before reaching out to sling an arm around their shoulder, hauling them right up against his side as they stepped in. “Come on, burnin’ daylight here V. We gotta get settled in before the crowds start showing up and we can barely hear ourselves talk.” Jackie said, though really he was hardly complaining. He and V had spent a few good night at the Coyote living it up the best way they knew how, and often left stumbling into the streets with their heads and hearts still pounding to the beat of the music that would blast through the bar during the later hours.

There was a moment of adjustment needed as they stepped in from outside into the neon glow of reds and greens that made up a good portion of the decorative lighting in the joint. Beyond the workers, there were a few early patrons who had already made their way there and settled in at some of their favorite spots for a bite to eat and a good time with friends, but the bar was almost entirely unoccupied yet thankfully. Save for one lone body, anyway. Viktor was sat towards the center, making casual conversation with Pepe as he waited for his friends to arrive. With his back to V and Jackie, he didn’t notice as they approached until Jackie slipped away from V to move to one side of Viktor, while V moved towards his other side and the two caught his attention by sitting down on the stools next to him.

“Been here long Vik?” Jackie asked, and Viktor gave a quick shake of his head, reaching out to pat Jackie on the shoulder to welcome him, and when he looked over to V he saw that Pepe had already stepped over to take their drink order to get them started for the evening. He was a little surprised that V had actually come along with them, but when Jackie first mentioned the fact that they would be there, he hadn’t been disappointed.

“Nah... my last appointment ran a bit long so I just got here maybe ten minutes ago? Customer was about as indecisive as they come and took forever to decide what they wanted. Like I don’t tell my customers to at least have an idea what they fuckin’ want before they come in…. They ended up going for a damn set of rippers of all things.” Viktor said with a heavy sigh and a shake of his head, fatigue clear as day in his voice. “They always assume that just because it’s not a big installation that it will be an easy installation.”

“Rippers? Fuck man, that shit’s old-school, nasty work right?” Jackie asked, far from being a medic but he still knew how rough certain procedures were through word of mouth, and from listening to Viktor bitch about them enough times. Anything involving finger work tended to leave Viktor agitated. “Sorry to hear your day kinda went downstairs after we left. Installation at least go alright?”

“Ahh, it ain’t really worth griping over. I’m here now, ready for a drink. Definitely done thinking about cybernetics for the evening.” Viktor said, clapping his hands together to clear the air between them so they could get things started. Pepe had just handed V’s drink off to them, and he looked between Viktor and Jackie to see what they would be having. “Drinks are on you tonight, right Jack?” Viktor asked.

“Said I was buying, didn’t I?” Jackie said, nodding to Pepe. “Open a tab for me tonight? I’ll pay it off before we head out. Figure we’ll be here a good while though. Gotta catch Viky here up on what V and I have been getting up to, and he’s gonna need somethin’ strong to get him through this one.”

Jackie and Viktor both placed their drink orders and Pepe made quick work of getting them prepped and poured out, and Jackie picked his up as soon as it was ready before turning towards the other two. “Alright how’s about a fuckin’ toast first though, yeah? We’ve all got a lot of good going for us as of late, feels like tonight is the night to celebrate it all.” He said, watching as the other two followed suit in grabbing their drinks to raise up, V leaning forward against the bar just to look around Viktor so they could see.

“I mean, sure, that sounds good Jack,” V said. “What exactly are we toasting to though?”

Jackie thought for half a second before thrusting his drink forward just a bit, sloshing it slightly but none of them cared about the small spill it caused. “Let’s keep it simple; to friends. Old, new, ones we’ll meet in the future.” He said, and to that both V and Viktor held their drinks higher, with V reaching as far as they possibly could to clink their glasses together. It was sloppy, messy, so perfect for the three of them.

“To friendship.” Both V and Viktor said, and the three of them took a generous drink from their glasses before settling back down, V flopping back in their stool so hard it almost rocked a little.

Viktor took a second slow drink from his glass just to really appreciate it a little more, before he looked between Jackie and V both, and he motioned for them to get on with it. He had been promised quite the story several times by Jackie at this point and he expected the man to deliver. “Alright… so let’s hear it,” He said. “What’s the story behind you two?”

“Jackie set his own drink down and shifted in his seat so that he was fully facing Viktor with an excited gleam in his eyes as he began to set the scene. “OK, so I’m out there just doin’ a job for Wakako cause she’s got intel on a high-end, absolutely preem vehicle and she wants me to nab it for her. Apparently she had some client lined up wanting to buy it off her, she just didn’t have it in her possession yet, you know what I mean?” Jackie said, before flicking his wrist towards V, who couldn’t have hid the smirk on their face if they had wanted to. “And I’m all set to grab it right? I get there though and this fucker is sittin’ in the car already, trying to fuckin’ high-jack it with some garbage tech that’s supposed to be a kind of damn skeleton key for super cars I guess?”

V quickly waved their hands, shook their head, and Viktor turned his attention towards them as they began to explain their side of the story. “Listen, you can’t fucking hot-wire a car like that, it was just supposed to get the damn thing up and running for me, I was gonna do the rest.” They said, sighing. “I was trying to help Pepe out with Slimy Kirk ‘cause he was in the hole with him for some money. Kirk said I could do a job for him and Pepe would be squared away, and the job was to grab the car. ‘Course it went belly up like every fucking job from him does...” They said, pinching at the bridge of their nose as they spoke. They were about to carry on with the story, but there was something about the expression on Viktor’s face that gave them pause.

He looked… upset. A little confused, maybe shocked, but mostly just upset as his brow furrowed and he shook his head and turned his gaze down to the table. It was such an abrupt shift from happy and relaxed to this that it was almost jarring to V.

“Wait… wait you mean to tell me that Kirk’s still around? Nobody’s gone and flatlined that little rat yet?” Viktor asked, the disgruntled look on his face only partially obscured by the drink in his hand.

“What can I say? It’s on my to-do list, but bigger things keep pushing him further and further down as priority.” V said with a shrug. “Why? You got beef?”

“Well… hardly these days, doesn’t even matter anymore now that I’ve set up shop behind Misty’s, but the fucker took me for about a grand a few years back while I was still looking for a good place to run my clinic from.” Viktor mumbled, and beside them Jackie nodded with a low whistle as he waved a finger at Viktor.

“Yeeeah, yeah I remember that, god never seen you so pissed Vik. Had every right to be though, I’m still surprised you didn’t knock Kirk into next year...” Jackie said, letting out a low chuckle and shaking his head at the memory of it. “Bastard went into hiding for a bit before you could even get your hands on him or something, right?”

Viktor let out little more than an annoyed grunt in affirmation as he tipped his glass back against his lips and took a long pull from it. When he set it aside the ice clanked loudly against the side of the glass and he raised his hand to motion to Pepe for another. “Something like that...”

V looked between Jackie and Viktor for a moment, but clearly they were missing a bit of history here that neither of them seemed to be in too much of a rush to explain to them, so they cleared their throat and gave Viktor a little nudge with their foot to get his attention. “Hey, I mean he’s back in broad daylight again. If you wanted to send a couple of goons his way to get back at him for you...” V pounded their fist into the palm of their hand a few times for show. “I think Jackie and I could make a bit of time for it.”

Viktor shook his head, waving that idea right off without so much as considering it. “No, not necessary. Like I said, it was years ago and I’m happy with where I’m at right now. Besides, going after fixers doesn’t really do you any favors, even if it’s someone like Kirk… great way to get yourself blacklisted if you’re not careful. Lost eddies ain’t worth it.”

“Yeah… you axe one, all the others tend to get a little twitchy when they hear about it...” V mumbled, slouching in their chair just a little. It was clear to Vik that they were disappointed that they couldn’t help, but he wasn’t going to change his mind on that.

“I swear sometimes they know you’re gonna do somethin’ to piss them off before you even do it, don’t know how though.” Jackie said.

“Well…. Suppose if you ever change your mind, Vik, offer will still be there.” V said.

It was clear that all the talk of Kirk had left a bit of a bad taste in Viktor’s mouth, but he smiled all the same as V assured the offer for support would still be there if he ever changed his mind down the line. “Thanks V, I appreciate it, really. Not a lot of people in this city who would have your back just like that no questions asked.” He said, before muttering a quiet thank you to Pepe as his refill was set in front of him. He held the glass up in a much smaller cheers before taking a sip. “...Anyway, so Kirk sends you out on a job and you just happen to run into Jackie, who just so happens to be looking for the same damn car for Wakako?”

“Should have seen her, Vik, not just any car. Aerondight, ‘bout the sexiest set of wheels I’ve ever seen...” Jackie said, and V couldn’t help but snort at the almost wistful look on his face as he thought back to the car that got away. “PD were on our asses in fuckin’ seconds though, and I’m pretty sure the only reason we walked away from that one alive was because of Stints...”

“Couldn’t let us off without a proper beatdown though, better than ending up at the bottom of a fucking river at least...” V muttered, reaching up and rubbing idly at their nose that hadn’t quite looked like it was supposed to since that last little run in with the cops.

“Ok so… so let me get this straight,” Viktor started, setting his drink down before he leaned back in his seat and he motioned between Jackie and V both. “Somewhere between Jackie putting a gun to your head and getting your shit kicked in by PD, you decided that you two were gonna be best buds from now on?” He asked.

“Well, no, actually I still kinda wanted to kick his ass for a while after all that, but then he went and introduced me to Mama Welles and…. Well she asked me to stay for dinner, what can I say?” V said with a shrug, a sheepish grin spreading on their lips as they spoke. “Can’t say no to her, and can’t hurt her baby boy.”

“Awe, come on V, don’t gotta go breaking my heart by telling me you’re friends with Mama and not me.” Jackie said, and Viktor ducked his head at that, hiding the grin behind his hand. He couldn’t hide the way his shoulders bounced with poorly concealed snickering though, and when Jackie lightly kicked Viktor in the shin for laughing at him, Viktor reached out and gave a small shove right back in return. They really did seem like a couple of best friends, rather than a doctor and his patient.

“Learn to make chili like your mom, then I’ll think about upping you on my list of friends, Jack.” V said.

“Oof nasty words V!” Jackie said, giving the most heartbroken sounding gasp he could muster, hand placed over his heart. “Vik, you’re closer, punch them for me.”

Viktor gave V a bit of a side-eyed glance and a thoughtful hum as he circled the rim of his glass with his thumb. Then he shook his head with the barest hint of a smirk on his face. “Come on now Jackie, I don’t think they deserve to die for that...” He said, ignoring the way that V’s head whipped around and the indignant expression they had plastered to their face. The moment V opened their mouth to spit out some sort of a rebuttal Viktor shot them a look, just daring them to argue against him. “Hmm? Got something to say, Kid?”

There were a few beets between the two that seemed to carry on for an eternity, just Viktor staring V down while V looked like the cogs in their brain were frantically trying to churn out an answer to that challenge they had just been issued, at least in their mind. Finally V sat up a little straighter as the looked Viktor up and down before shrugging. “I don’t know Vik… I’ve been in some pretty decent scraps myself….. I think I could take you.” They said, tone laced with nothing but pure defiance.

Jackie erupted into laughter, while Viktor’s expression seemed caught somewhere between complete awe, and utter befuddlement. He almost seemed like he was waiting for V to take back what they were saying, to realize that if Viktor wanted to, he could have dropped them in an instant with a well placed blow, but they just cross their arms over their chest and looked proud of what they had said. That stunned look on Viktor’s face melted into one of admiration for the gutsy little street punk in front of him.

“Oh… I like this one Jackie.” Viktor said, leaning against the bar just a little as he spoke, and he seemed to be trying to decide whether or not he should make them prove themself or not. Given the fact that there was alcohol involved here, he figured maybe that wasn’t the best idea for them, or potentially anyone else in the bar for that matter. “They’ve got a pair.”

“Ehh, they really do have a wicked arm on them too, for someone who’s untrained anyway. They’re bullshitting hard right now, they know damn well they couldn’t take on a pro like you, but… I’ve seen them throw some nasty punched all the same.” Jackie said with a shrug, and just from his praise alone V felt bolstered, and the look on their face was damn near blinding with pride. The compliments certainly did nothing to quell their ego, and they couldn’t help but puff out their chest just a little. “I think you’d actually be impressed if you saw it, Vik.”

Viktor hadn’t looked away from V since he first began to realize just how daring this little streetpunk actually was, and V was beginning to feel like the man’s eyes were about to burn a damn hole in their skin with how intently he was watching them. The lights from behind the bar had them all cast in a deep green glow, and it hit Viktor just right to let V see his eyes hidden behind the dark lenses of his glasses. They had been locked on their own at first, but it was impossible for V to miss the way they flicked down as he glanced them over.

V wasn’t the toughest, biggest bastard in Night City, not by a long-shot. Their augmentations were a rather pitiful minimum, and with next to no bio-enhancemnts to even begin to compare to some of the cybered up tech heads you could find in the slums, the only person there who was less kitted up was Viktor himself who, as far as V could tell, was tech free. With a painful lack of eddies to their name, all they could really do to even begin to stack against the dangers the city held was to stay in shape, grit their teeth, and give it all they could. They had long since learned that even if you didn’t have the shiniest new implants installed, you had damn well better be willing to walk into a dangerous situation with the confidence of someone who did, or you would get chewed up and spit out in a heartbeat.

But… Viktor wasn’t looking for tech. They could all but feel Viktor’s eyes roaming over them now that their jacket wasn’t in the way like it had been at the clinic. His gaze lingered on their arms, their shoulders and chest, the subtle definition of the muscles hidden under the thin fabric of their T-shirt. V pulled their glass up to take a slow drink from it, the burn of the alcohol distracting them from the nerves the felt itching at the edge of their mind.

“Well, Vik, are you impressed? Like what you see?” They asked lowly, and as soon as they spoke Viktor looked back up at their face.

“Yeah… I mean you look like you’re in pretty good shape, from a glance at least.” Viktor said, clearing his throat as he reached for his glass, quickly bringing it to his lips to take what was really the smallest sip he could. “Next time you come in I’d like to take the time and put you through the wringer, do a full physical and see what we can do to improve on that…” He said, looking down to his glass, and finally V felt like they could breath again. “Not that I really wanna talk business right now, came out to spend time with friends and that’s what I plan on doing.”

“Fair enough, V said, before tapping the back of their hand against Viktor’s shoulder. “Hey, I know Jackie said drinks were on him tonight, but let me get your next one. My way of saying thanks for the work earlier.” They suggested with a lopsided grin on their face, all too charming in their own way.

“I like the way you say thanks, Kid.” Viktor said with a small laugh, not caring if it was a little silly since he wasn’t going to be buying his own drinks either way, but he supposed that it really was the thought that counted. "Last one though, I still gotta work tomorrow so I’m not looking to get drunk tonight.”

“That would be a tall fuckin’ order anyway, getting Viktor drunk. Guy’s got the tolerance of a champ.” Jackie said, before he leaned around Viktor to look at V, and he jabbed a thumb towards the front door of the bar. “V, buy the man his drink and then do me a favor after that, will you? Think my holo slipped out in your car, and you got the key. Fetch it for me?” He asked.

“Yeah, I got you Jack. I gotta step out anyway, I’m expecting deets on a job any minutes really.” V said before waving Pepe down and tapping the spot in front of Viktor. “Another of what he’s having, I’ll send you the eddies in just a second Pepe, I just gotta step out real quick and I’ll be right back. You can keep Jackie as collateral ‘till then.” They said, giving Jackie a playful wink as they passed by, fishing their key out of their pocket before they even reached the door.

Jackie watched them go, leaning back on his stool until he almost looked like he was about ready to topple over backwards until V disappeared from his sight. As soon as they were gone, he leaned forward again and turned towards Vik to smack him on the shoulder a couple of times. It didn’t hurt so much as it just surprised Viktor, making him flinch just a little.

“Viiiik, Viky, come on what was that now?!” Jackie demanded, attempting to smack at Viktor’s arm a few more times before the old ripper pushed his hand away and reached for his freshly refilled glass now that he wasn’t being hit.

“What are you going on about now? Not short circuiting over there, are you?” Viktor asked.

“Damn near thought I was, seeing what I just saw. Was that the one and only Viktor Vektor flirting?” Jackie asked, and the shit eating grin he had on his face made Viktor give a roll of his eyes and shake his head.

“I don’t flirt, Jack, not anymore. Too old for that kinda thing, you know?” Viktor said, waving Jackie off. “V seems… they seem real nice. I don’t know them that well at all of course, but what little I’ve talked to them they at least seem like they’ve got their head on straight, and if you’ve taken a liking to them, then they probably have a good heart buried in there somewhere too I’m guessing...” He said, pausing for a moment in hopes that would be enough to placate Jackie, but that goofy, almost accusatory grin didn’t seem to falter from his face. “Fuckin’ get over it Jackie, you’re seeing things that aren’t even there.”

“What about that fancy new rig you set up in their head earlier? Processors don’t come cheap, even older ones.” Jackie pointed out. “They mentioned that they wanted to pay you back for it… bet you didn’t even ask them to though, did you?”

“I’d just rather make sure I actually get to see them for a second appointment than worry about eddies.” Viktor said. “Wasn’t even the newest model, doubt I would have had anyone coming in looking for it, and I really doubt I’ll miss it.”

“...Well, you sure as hell won them over with that smooth move, I can tell.” Jackie said, the smile finally fading from his lips just a bit as he glanced over his shoulder towards the door. He could see V through one of the cracked front windows, kicking the door to their car shut while looking down at their own holo, responding to some texts by the look of it. They were still looking down at the device when they started back towards the bar entrance.

“Mm...” Viktor glanced over when the door chimed with V’s re-entrance. “Like I said, forget it.”

As soon as V made their way over, they stood between the both of them and sat Jackie’s holo down in front of him, and placed a hand on each of their shoulders. “Hey, listen, hate to bounce already but I just got word from one of my fixers about a sweet gig. Should be easy work for a decent chunk of change. Figure it would probably still be best if I can see straight going into it though.” They said, looking to Jackie. “I warned you that I would probably be dipping earlier than the two of you anyway.” They said. They just narrowly missed the little frown that Viktor had on his face upon hearing that V was heading out, probably to get into some sort of trouble elsewhere. Jackie didn’t

“Fine, fine, you’re free to go. Dunno what you’re up to, but try not to catch a bullet, alright? I kinda need you for this next job, alright?” Jackie said with a little snicker, grunting at the hard swat V gave him on the back. “Hey play nice now! S’what you get for saying you’re better friends with my Mama than you are with me. Now scram, V, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, of course, we’ll rock it out OK Jackie? I’ll give you a call first thing in the morning.” V said, letting their hands slip away from the two, before pointing at Viktor as they began to walk backwards towards the door. “Soon as we finish this I’m comin’ to give you what you’re owed, Vik, and maybe we can talk shop about getting a few more fancy toys installed?”

Viktor lifted his head just a little when V spoke to him, and he nodded. “Sure thing, V, just call ahead and I’ll be sure to make some time for you as soon as you’re ready.” He promised, giving a little wave before he finished off his glass that had been ordered for him, setting it aside to be cleaned up while he and Jackie caught up.

V turned on heel and headed out after that, with Jackie watching them until they got in their car and drove away, headed off for what he could only hope wasn’t too dangerous of a mission if they were going to tackle it themselves. As soon as V was gone though, Jackie looked back over to Viktor.

“You’ll make some time for them, Vik? Squeeze ‘em in?” Jackie asked, elbowing Viktor lightly, raising his eyebrows in a suggestive manner.

“Shut it, Jackie, before I wire your jaw shut myself.”

[procrastinatorimagines]

Here For You Part 2

Fandom: Chicago PD / One Chicago

Series: Here For You

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 (Final)

Character/s: Reader x Jay, 

Warning/s: none

Word Count: 1,407

Summary: Y/N is getting closer to Jay, and her due date, as she continues to try and navigate her new life in Chicago after her and her brother helped Intelligence with a murder trial.

You were stood in your new apartment, paintbrush in hand as you surveyed the would be nursery. It had been slow going to decorate it, with your brother, Henry, pulling doubles to support you and you obviously out of work, but it was all coming together.  T-minus 6 weeks and counting, God you couldn’t wait to finally have this baby.

A lot had happened since you moved to Chicago, starting fresh after your ex had left you pregnant and alone, but after getting through a trial for a gang shooting your brother had witnessed, you felt ready for anything. 

“Ah crap,” you heard from the living room, followed by a loud clatter, turning to peer out the door to see Jay Halstead, crouched down with tools in hand attempting to put together the crib you’d purchased for the baby. Henry hadn’t had time to put it together and you couldn’t really get that low without getting stuck, so Jay had offered to come over to help out.

He’d done that a lot recently, brought you take out, taken you out for the evening, helped you move in and decorate your new apartment... Honestly with your past experience with men you’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop, for there to be some kind of catch, but Jay really did just seem to be this all around genuinely good guy. 

“Everything okay?” You asked, leaning against the door frame as you watched him flip through the instructions, shaking his head. 

“They’re not in English,” he replied in disbelief, staring back at the pile of wood that had just fallen apart. You let out a light chuckle and headed in as he held them up for you to take a look at.

“At least... there’s pictures?” You tried, angling your head to the side as you tried to make out what was going on on the pages in your hand. Jay stood up and brushed down his jeans, placing the box of screws he was holding on your new coffee table, which had mercifully been bought all in one peice. 

Most of your furniture was second hand, but you’d wanted new things for the baby, the best things, you’d made some bad decisions to get where you were, but you’d be damned if you let any of that affect your kid, so only the best it was. And apparently, the best was imported from Sweden.

“You know what, if I keep trying to do this I’m going to lose my mind, I’ll take a look at it with Henry when he gets back, sorry,” he said as you closed the booklet.

“Sorry? Jay you’ve gone above and beyond for me, and you really didn’t have to, you have absolutely nothing to apologise for,” you told him, putting a hand to your belly as you felt the baby move, “we owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Jay smiled, “I’m happy to do it.” He had no right to look at you like that, standing there, nearly 32 weeks pregnant, dressed baggy and scruffy clothes and bags under your eyes that let anyone know you hadn’t had a good night sleep in a very long time, but yet he still looked at you in a way that said that he couldn’t look away. 

You’d been getting much closer, too close for your protective older brother’s liking. He’d always been like that with boys, but after your last disasterous relationship he didn’t want you to get hurt again, especially since it wouldn’t just be you you had to think about anymore, but your baby too. 

So you’d tried to keep some kind of a distance, but damn it if he didn’t make it next to impossible, even though you had a suspicion he was trying to do the same. With every honest conversation, even late night, everything you learned about him and shared with him, you found yourself falling for him more and more, you couldn’t help it.

“Drink break?” He offered, heading into your kitchen annex and grabbing some glasses, knowing full well his way around. You took a seat by the counter, glad to be off your feet for a bit, aching from the time you’d spend painting the nursery. It wasn’t a perfect job, but you felt bad enough about letting Jay do everything that he was, so you were trying to do as much as you were able too.

Jay grabbed you a glass of water and himself a beer, was it really six already? You realised in shock, Jay had been over most of the day.

He opened his drink and went to take a sip, pausing just before it reached his mouth as he grinned at you. “What?” You asked slowly, lowering your own glass.

“You have a little paint-” he started, brushing the side of his nose with his finger as you mimicked his action to get the paint off your face.

“No, it’s a little-” he tried to direct you as you tried, and apparently failed, at wiping it off, laughing at the ridiculousness of how you must have looked right now.

“Got it?” You asked him but he shook his head, laughing right back as he put his drink down entirely.

“I got it,” he told you, wetting his thumb a little as you moved your hand away, letting him rub the paint off your nose.

He slowed down after a second, his thumb moving from the side of your nose to your cheek as he held your gaze, you suddenly getting very conscious of just how close to you he was. You could feel your cheeks start to heat up the longer his hand lingered on your face, your breath catching as his eyes darted to your lips, leaning in a little closer as his fingers went to your chin, tilting your head back lightly as he moved in for a kiss. 

You could feel his breath on yours lips he was so close, and although every fibre of your being was screaming at you not to, you put your hand out onto his chest, gently stopping him in his tracks and you forced yourself to break eye contact, ending the moment.

Jay took a step back and cleared his throat, “sorry, I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t have done that,” he apologised, looking guiltily away from you.

You bit you lip as you watched him, trying to think of the right words to say. “Jay-”

“No, you’ve... you’ve been through a lot and I shouldn’t have done that, it’s not fair to you,” he rambled but you cut him off, realising what he meant, that he might have thought he would be taking advantage of you, but that wasn’t why you stopped him.

“It’s not that I didn’t want to- I’m just not... ready yet,” you fumbled, hoping he cot what you were trying to say. You’d been put through the ringer by your ex, and no matter what you felt for Jay, you needed space to focus on yourself and your baby, you were barely getting your life back on track without throwing a relationship into the mix. You just hoped he understood it wasn’t about him. He met your eyes finally as you continued to speak, relaxing a little as he took him your words. “I care about you Jay, a lot, like a lot, but I’m figuring out this new life as I go right now and I think I just need.. time.”

He nodded thoughtfully, taking your hand. “I get it, and I need you to know that I’m not going anywhere. I care about you too Y/N, a lot. I told you I’d be here for you and I meant it, I’m not going anywhere,” he said again as you blinked back tears, realising not for the first time how much your ex had broken down your trust. 

Because that’s what it was, wasn’t it? You didn’t want to let someone else into your heart like that just yet, not when you were still trying to put the pieces back together a bit at a time.

Jay cupped your face again, kissing you on the top of the head gently instead as you leaned into him, finding yourself believing every word he said. 

Not today, or tomorrow, but one day, you’d be ready, and you didn’t have much doubt that he’d be waiting when you were.

[grim-faux]

19 - Null of Light

There was a soured and puffy body behind me the whole time.  I barely noticed when I spun around, the coagulated blood on my shoes stuck to the carpet.  I studied it for a few seconds, a long streak of black led to the gate the disciple had indicated.  Follow the Blood.  

The segregation gate was wide open leading into a corridor, my new course.  I decided the gate at the opposite end of the room was indeed locked, only to save me the ‘long’ walk to confirm this.  I didn’t immediately begin off on my new tour, but stood in a daze as my mind caught up to current events.  I had barely escaped an encounter with the big fucker and returned to the modern section of the Asylum, the area I was first acquainted with the nightmares that would micromanage my… I wouldn’t define it as ‘progress.’  Liberation?  I couldn’t come up with wording that wasn’t cliché or cheap.  I just wanted out, that’s it. Some of my rational was clearing, though my head throbbed and it was hard to think.  The lights, the lights were too intense for my eyes.  Maybe if I wasn’t staring into the cracked visor every second, but I barely realized the way I had it, angled beside my face and my posture was kinked.  I’d spent too long glued to the camera.  Damn, I didn’t give a fuck anymore.

The flies were getting on my nerves, roused as I worked.  They couldn’t decided who they preferred more, the corpse or me.  The dead researcher didn’t have much on him when he perished, but I didn’t think I was the first to poke through his pockets.  There was a penlight and a wallet, and that’s it.  It was morally wrong, I’m aware of that, but I opened his wallet and went through it.  Found a picture of the guy when he was alive with his family.  It was a classic picture, mom and dad and the kid, out in the front yard of a house that looked at home in some middle class neighborhood, probably a city or town I’d never hear about.  My mind wondered where his kid had gone, the picture didn’t look old, not the same as some treasured artifact parents wore to death within the month.  Just a memory.  Was his wife wondering where he went?  Did she care enough to contact authorities?  I was here, I guess not. I tucked the picture into my notepad, in a clean space with no writing.  I flipped through the crisp pages, they had gotten wet from the multiple times I was soaked.  The pocket was waterproof but not submersible, water managed to seep through the zipper.  Some of the pages stuck, but I could work on that later.  I replaced the small booklet in its pocket, then examined the penlight over.  It had two batteries.  Currently, my camera was running low on NV and I had a spare.  I’d probably need them, whatever amount of energy they had. The blood still squelched under my shoes as I moved over the plush carpet, to the open gate.  For some reason the sensation unnerved me.  Of course it would, I’d be disconcerting if it didn’t.  But it was as though I was reliving the Asylum all over, from the beginning.  I’d had enough, I didn’t want to be reminded.  I wanted to let go of this place and leave it far behind me.  Let go, move on, and heal.  I needed to heal.  There would be scarring though.  Deep, hidden, ugly scars. The door in the hall was glass and distorted, but locked.  I peered through, seeing nothing in particular but more hall and a functioning lamp at some distance.  I didn’t linger.  The hall cut to the right, blood stains on the wall and floor caught my eye, where a patient might have been shot.  Cracks and pop marks curved over the plaster, but no bodies.  I continued, following the direction a plate labeled Recreational Hall, indicated with an arrow.  That would probably be the best place to start looking for a theater.  I thought there was a new resonance in the air, but ignored it.  I was worked up enough, though I felt a creeping sense that I wasn’t alone.  Not here in this hall under these bright lights, I gave the stained walls a glance but saw no cameras.  I was alone and isolated. The next right dead ended at a door that refused to open.  I tried to force the handle, but someone had forgotten to unlock it for me, or it was locked intentionally.  I would have to force it, but I didn’t think I had the strength. There had been an open door a ways back, it lead into a dark room I wanted to overlook.  It was careless, I was getting careless, but I almost didn’t care anymore. I stood in the doorway, fumbling for the NV switch until the green visor flashed in my face.  Nothing in the immediate range stood out, just a room with windows and drapes.  Was I hearing… music?  A piano?  It didn’t sound like a radio, I could feel the melody through the walls as did my bones.  Just my head churning, I had difficulty focusing.  I entered the room, abruptly blasted by my old adversary of putrid air.  I was beginning to miss the smell of wet char. The camera buzzed as the image distorted, I paused to wait it out and listened as the music continued.  A pool table sat on the right, sticks still placed on the top with Q-balls scattered hither and yonder.  Large cushioned chairs lined the wall on the left, with another of Murkoff’s trademark dried out plants.  The far side of the wall was set up with an entertainment center, complete with DVDs stacked on the desk by the flat screen.  While stepping beside the pool table I was spooked by my reflection in the screen, until I realized the angle was wrong. When I spun about the image failed in the visor, I waited as my heart thumped, until the static cleared.  By then there was nothing, just the familiar impression in my memories, a shape vaguely….  If someone was following, I needed to keep on the move. I continued toward the pool table, trying not to focus on the reflective surface of the screen.  A body, and the source of reek within the room, appeared in the gloom on the floor, a blood streak led to the fallen Researcher, or was it doctor?  It might’ve been the person that bled in the hall, before he dragged himself in here to die.  He was shot, punch holes clear even through the cracked visor.  I carefully stepped over the body, listening as the gentle tune rose in volume.   On the other side of the pool table, a large split between the floor and lower wall was formed.  The destruction was organized, no evidence of the materials lay nearby but dust and splinters, the crevice was carved out in a rectangular shape, much like a door.  This detour made little sense, but I questioned nothing of the rationality of those left responsible after Murkoff’s demise.  I couldn’t complain, either. The hole led into a sizable storage closet, with a broken locker and some spare tables.  They looked small, maybe a little outdated, probably donated by some preschool from the 40s.  A door across on my right led out into a short hall with more lockers and a small stool with a radio on top of it.  I tried the nobs but it had no power.  Aside from that the hall was a dead end, leading to a segregation gate that was locked. I returned to the storage closet and found the ladder at the side, which led up to a higher level.  Not really a floor, just a loft with railing barring the sides.  Crates and some empty boxes were stacked along walls that appeared outdated, eroded and neglected.  Likewise, the wood was as outdated and an archaic quality took the design, this must have been an area where the old asylum and Murkoff section merged.  Or this side was shut away when Murkoff reopened the asylum. The railing shut the loft in, but across from my position the barrier didn’t fully block in the floor.  Beside the opening stretched a thin ledge I was certain my feet would fit on.  Though there was enough light on the wall lamps that lit up the hall, I still felt comfort with the camera out in case I saw something interesting or caught a glimpse of the shapes that plagued my mind.  It was easier to hold the camera beside my shoulder as I shuffled along the wall, without cramming it against my eye. This area was in disrepair, but not as far gone as the other side of the Asylum where the building was condemned.  The walls were chipped and the paint had worn away years ago, and some of the cables running wires across the walls needed to be updated.  But it was still standing, and had not been completely demolished by hells cleansing fire. That was bad.  And I felt bad for coming up with it. The segregation gate extended up to the ceiling, except for a thin gap in the side where the ledge extended, due to practicality in construction most likely.  I squeezed through, then leaned low judging the distance to a set of lockers across from me.  The lockers shook under my weight and I had to pause to let the ache settle.  I pondered if my backside was bleeding again, it felt like my coat had crystalized to the wound and that spot was nearly numb now, which worried me.  I crouched down and slipped to the wood floor.  The piano music was close now, somewhere in this hall with me?  I weaved around tall stacks of crates, coming to what I knew must be the source. I turned my head to a reinforced door nailed shut, my sudden commotion must’ve prompted the sharp key that was struck.  The sudden sound startled me as it rung in my ears painfully.  My camera was already leveled by my eyes, I didn’t have the presence of mind to adjust or check what I was filming, my mind too occupied by the shape beyond the windows thin screen.   The man rose from his seat and approached the door, I made a pitiful sound when he stopped and gazed through the mesh at me, then tilt his head.  I couldn’t be certain, but it looked like his eyelids had been trimmed away.  As a result they had a fishy, glass like quality.  This procedure seemed familiar to me, but I couldn’t recall where it was I had seen it.  I stared back as he tilt his head the other way, and once satisfied, walked away.  Just like that. I let out a small gasp as I continued to stare into the room, with the softly burning candle atop the piano.  Briefly, I wondered what he had been like before he was mutilated.  What if he had never been a patient? I backed away and turned, on the left a doorway stood waiting, with no visible door to shut.  At one point it had a door, but time changes these things.  I crept close to the frame on one side and peered into the room.  The lights were too bright, and a dull hum had filled the air with the pianist’s absence.  I missed it, I missed the somber tune. The floor had pieces of plaster scattered, that had chipped from the walls.  A short stack of wood steps led up to a platform built four feet above the floor, beneath, a few boxes and other rubbish had been shoved up under the tight storage space between the two floors.  More lockers were set along the crumbling wall on my left, the platform at my right was built along a corner, electrical panels built beside the platform for easy access, their outdated cables extended along the walls and to the lamps burning their hot light.  A few feet beside them, a doorway. No sign of life, no sound or disturbance that I could detect.  I crept to the stairs keeping my movement slow and quiet.  I would be in a bad way if I was surprised here, in the unforgiving yellow blaze.  I never thought I’d just despise the light, but its bright artificial glaze aggravated my head.  It warmed the air around my body, yet I had a chill in my skin.  I was uncertain if the under layer of my coat was still damp or if I was imagining it. Little comfort was to be had in the shadows, where it was I could never know what exactly skipped at the edges of the cracked visor.  I stalled in the doorway atop the upper floor.  I thought there was something, I felt it in my mind.  But as always, nothing.  There was nothing, and never would there be something.  I had to keep reminding myself that. I massaged my eyes then gave the shadows another scrutiny.  Nothing but a wall of black, the air heavy with a stale musk tinted by ancient wood.  I shivered and changed out the battery, before I shuffled through the broken doorframe.  Through the NV I could make out the stacks of empty shelves, pieces of boards and plywood leaning on walls.  A mop and a janitorial bucket had been abandoned in this little closet space, some towels or long sheets had been left to decay along the edges of the wall.  Some of the tattered cloth appeared to have been slept in, at some point or another. I maneuvered around the furniture, getting a little lost as I tried to find my way out of the space.  I climbed atop a shelf but it went nowhere, it was just a small space I could get onto and get nowhere. Finally, I stumbled upon an opening I had probably walked by five times, where a pallet had been set aside.  More of the large dirt tinged cloth was left to dangle on my right, over a wall of the room I was about to enter.  I balanced on the boards angled over the edge, and stopped in my tracks to view the room filled with chairs and the eyes of a dozen people gazing at me.   Corpses.  Victims of this place.  I calmed my nerves as I tensed and dropped down onto the floor below, my shoes thudded on the hollow wood.  I took a few steps forward scanning the eyes, and listened to the strange sound of blood on my shoes.  There was a puddle where I dropped down, there was always blood.  With my camera I zoomed and scanned the room for movement, it was nothing but a house of corpses.  The hair on my neck prickled.  What was I sent here for?  Something specific. Many of the chairs had been scooted aside forming a straight path towards the back of the room, and those red, large familiar words that red EXIT.  I would start there, if not it could be my escape out. I only paused to stare on a stiff cadaver slumped back in his wheelchair, when the lights above burned into focus, and I whirled away as the white cloth was agitated by an image.  I blinked a few times, then turned off the NV when the spots in my eyes cleared somewhat.  I moved to crouch low beside a chair, away from the man in the wheelchair.  The screen had a spray of blood across one corner, and a broken support beam had rotten and fallen, to slant across and catch squirming vapor. “…exit interview recorded December 27th, 1985 Los Alamos, New Mexico.” The movie.  This was what the disciple meant, I was to see this movie, and the key was… here somewhere? “Clearance Sierra Alpha.  Subject DR. Rudolf Wernicke.  14866.” I slipped up into a seat, and set my elbows on the back of the chair before me, in order to hold the camera steady.  Those images…. “The films are real.”  What was I seeing? “There was no alteration to the footage at all?” The guy had a clean voice, sounded formal, maybe with the CIA.  Possibly bureaucratic, I couldn’t decide what.  “No trickery.”   “None.” “In June of 1943 you recorded three instances of spontaneous bleeding.  A half dozen test subjects began to develop brain tumors.” “Yes.  The autopsies revealed that the tumors were pure lead.”  A heavy accent, easily German native.  This was… Dr. Wernicke’s voice? I rested my chin on my arm but kept the camera aimed and steady, though there was nothing to film.  At least, I don’t think— “It killed them?”  Oh… god.  “Can you explain why the results could not be reproduced in the United States?” “I have my theories.  My homeland, in those years.”  He paused here, as though trying to work through the memories that came with his explanation.  “It’s impossible to understand the things we felt.  What we believed.” Germany during World War II was probably one of the most accurate descriptions of hell on Earth.  Or, what we perceived as hell.  The Auschwitz camps that claimed the lives of so many people, children, their families.  I felt tears spilling down my cheek, and buried my face in my arm. “The overwhelming fear.  Ecstatic rage and….”  He trailed off.  “English words are insufficient.” Tremors clutched my body, and I lowered the camera to the chairs backside, unsure if it was still recording the screen.  I didn’t give a fuck, couldn’t tell what I was staring at.  The swirling pain, indescribable things nesting in my mind.  What was I seeing?  I wrapped my arms around my face and cried into them.  Heavy sobs, I need this, I just needed to do this right now. “More than hope.  A human mind in that environment is capable of extraordinary things.” Fuck you. “You’re saying the experiment needed….” “A proximity to death.  To overwhelming madness.  Only a test subject who had witnessed enough horror was capable of activating the engine.” The engine.  The morphogenic engine. “Do you believe your test subjects achieved something supernatural?” “No.” “Do you think they contacted something supernatural?”   “Nothing is supernatural.” At this point the speaker sounded dubious, if not interested in Wernicke’s answer.  “Then what was it?  You said project WALRIDER was a gateway.  A gateway to what?” Eventually my sobs did calm down and I sat up in the chair waiting for the interview to continue, but Dr. Wernicke never answered, or the audio cut off.  I took a deep breath through my nose and settled my frayed thoughts.  I think my coat smelled awful, it was brittle and gritty with dried mud from the Asylum’s grounds, but none of that mattered.  I’d been submerged in death and pain for too long.  I pulled my face from my arms and rubbed a hand over my short hair, I flinched at the unfamiliar gap in my fingers.  Where?  Where did I go now? Not just here, but after this?  I wasn’t going to be normal once I got out.  I brought my hand down and stared at what remained of my ring finger.  Aside from being unable to count down from five on one hand.  My vision fell beyond to the screen, and I shut my eyes.  I was going to get out of this.  No one, no damn dead doctor was going to keep me trapped in this nightmare. “The man sounds like Dr. Strangelove’s anemic brother.  It’s a twenty-five year old audio recording, and interview with this Dr. Wernicke.  Los Alamos means government work.  Wernicke talks about spontaneous bleeding, tumors in psychosomatic reactions in sufficiently disturbed people.  Seems to walk a line between science and Nazi mysticism. “Only a test subject who had witnessed enough horror was capable of activating the engine.”  The Morphogenic Engine. The Engine.  The movie they’re projecting.  It gets in my head like a song you can’t stop humming.  I blink and I see Rorschach tests that look like swarming insects and infected surgery wounds. The patients talk about using the Engine to conjure the Walrider.  It’s the buzzing I hear in my bones.” I fit the little booklet back into its pocket and adjusted the camera on my hand.  Whatever their plans, I would try not to get too involved with them.  I planned to get out of here long before they did anything else, short of blowing the place sky high. The bodies of Murkoff and their victims dot a few of the seats, their dead eyes saw through me to the screen.  Blood splattered the floor, from the wounded before dying.  I tilt my head as a few of the insects aroused by the light and noise began to settle on me, but my contest with them was impossible.  Their interest in my wounds was the least of my concerns. The path to the back of the room was straight forward, I didn’t have a burning desire to climb over chairs and make a ruckus, though it was apparent someone knew I was here.  Near the back where the rows of chairs ended, some tables were left with Researchers placed at or around each.  Throats torn out, torsos shredded, entrails spilling across their laps.  I began to wonder who had set the corpses up, and to what purpose?  To educate them?  This was an Asylum, so that seemed the most sensible reason. Acrid light slid from a wide doorway on my left, where I took would gain access to the projector room.  Or close enough.  He said behind the light, I watched their damn ‘movie.’ When I stepped into the light I paused and finished drying my face with the collar of my coat. There was no sound but for the tick of the projector still running its images, I tried not to think about them.  I stood in the doorway not particularly looking at anything, just picking up the air.  No one was in the room, not with me here, no.  A desk, lockers, and the dead tone of a phone off the hook.  On the floor at the other side of the room, a streak of blood slipped under a door.  I tossed the door behind me shut and moved to stand before the next portal, the only direction provided.  Blood trails.  Father Martin wanted me to follow blood trails.  It was only coming back to me how morbid this was, among the fact that this mark at my feet could have as easily been made by someone dying, as it could have been Martin’s doing. A hall lined with lockers and stacks of boxes greeted me.  The NV whirred as the image spazzed, I pulled the door shut after me as I gave it a moment to clear.  Each time the camera did this my heart rate accelerated.  Eventually, when I least expected it, the camera would die completely. Damn it Miles, stop thinking like that!  Pull yourself together.  Not gonna die here. As I was walking forward, one of the open lockers snapped shut.  The visor flashed and buzzed with static, I waited until it was clear before I took soft steps towards the door. “You have to find Wernicke.  Only way.” I could see the eyes of the person inside glitter in NV as he stared back at me.  I didn’t wait around.  Another source of light spilled from the end of the hall.  A door was nestled in the wall on my left as I neared the light, but I could view through the small mesh, the theater and the images still playing across the room on the screen.  No doubt the stairs on my right went up to the projector room, but an accessible room needed to be searched before I became lost or stuck someplace, which was usually the case in the dilapidated Asylum. The light filled a stage wing of the theater, four or five steps raised up to a short upper portion of the floor, directly to a door that must’ve opened into the back area of the stage where I entered through.  I couldn’t recall a door present in the tiny closet I had been lost in for a full five minutes.  Industrial shelves filled with broken boxes and files lined the wall on the right, numerous large planks of wood were left propped beside shelves.  Best as spare shelves rather barricading doors, it didn’t appear as though these materials had been bothered with.   I poked through the shelves and boxes, selecting a few folders that might hold details that would enlighten me further about this engine, or anything related to the Walrider folklore. From: d.brunton@murkoffcorp.us.com To: g.williard@murkoffcorp.us.com subject: re: FLESH EATING BACTERIA ?!?!?  Wash those hands regularly. : )  >>>on September 19, 2013, at 4:19 AM, GRANT >>><g.williard@murkoffcorp.us.com> wrote: Necrotizing fasciitis? >>>Really? I fucking quit. Trager’s loopy uncle?  I doubt G. Williard got far with that.  I took in the date on the file, September, the nineteenth.  This was an important document to record, it indicated that the Asylum was still running routinely until mid September.  This correlated with the state of decay I had viewed the bodies scattered everywhere.  A big however, my Mutemail admission was dated on the seventeenth.  Given, I didn’t receive the email until the Twenty-third.  Most emails had a schedule release, Mutemail encouraged the feature. What was relevant about these corresponding emails?  Give me a minute, it’s hard to keep these dates and files straight in my head.  I sat down on the platform and set the file on my lap.  Three emails, three emails, between five of Murkoff’s staff, and myself.  The relevant files had dates, that included the Whistle Blowers admission and Williard’s ‘resignation.’  Was it important a date had been attached to the Mutemail, though it had been scheduled to be sent?  It depended on whether or not my contact wanted me to know the date the message was composed.  It could have been a Red Herring, but Mutemail was anonymous, it didn’t matter if anyone knew the date or not, as long as it couldn’t be proven who wrote it. “…but seriously, fuck those guys.” There was no doubt in my mind, that my contact was dead.  I think I should have felt some remorse, a tinge of guilt.  But I couldn’t.  And I didn’t crave the satisfaction that might’ve come if I imagined his death to have been painful, but I wanted to pretend this was all his fault, even if it weren’t true.  I don’t know what happened here, I don’t know who started the chain reaction to this corporate fuck up, but I hoped to never find out.  I hoped to god I never found out. There were no other files that struck my fancy, and some had been damaged by water at one point making their contents unintelligible.  I returned to the dark hall, and paused to let my feed clear before I gazed up the stairs I passed previously.  The steps creaked as I began up, I could feel the forgotten wood shift under my weight, the sounds of the projector beat at my skull the higher I climbed.  I just wanted to get that key and get out of this place, even if it was back to the dormitories of the Asylum, my brain felt like it’d been punctured by a few hundred tiny needles. More boxes, crates forgotten and stacked on a makeshift shelf assembled on the loft.  Blood covered most of them, smelt decayed.  I tried the door on my right, only to be disappointed.  I should just accept that if it has the capacity to inconvenience me, it must.  I messed around with crates before me, wondering if I could climb over.  I crouched down and found several could be pushed out easily under the plank of wood.  I crawled under the space, and kept low as I took in the other side.  The image on the camera died for a few seconds before it flashed back, blinding me momentarily like a mean trick.  Don’t you turn against me too, camera.   The space was empty aside from a desk by the left wall, across the room another door.  I tried the handle but it felt stuck.  With a firm push from my shoulder the it gave, and I coughed as my ribs shifted.  The next attic held yet more heaps of crates lining the walls, and a few in my path.  I flinched when something shifted at the visors edge, expecting a variant or whatever else.  When I blinked it was gone, and I was dubious if there had been something there to begin with.  Still, my wrist and knees tingled, but I attributed it to paranoia.  The images from the screen persisted to swirl in my mind, no matter where memories delved, they were there twisting.  Burned into my retinas. I continued, a bit shaken but I’d walk it off.  I slipped over the scarce group of crates stacked in my path, in order to reach a light pouring from a window on the right side of the room.  A shelf of reels of varying sizes was set beside the door.  This was it. A wheelie coatrack with thin hangars clinging to it, gave no resistance as I pushed it aside, my eyes fixed on the bright shape of the window.  There was little I could make out through the mesh and glass, a broken corpse sat nearly decapitated, his head hung sideways by the remaining tendons.  Another stack of reels sat beside him on the desk, and the audible click of the projector within the room.  As I pushed the door open, the knob snapped out of my hand and I was face to face with one of the patient’s glaring me in the eye.  I leapt backwards hitting a crate with my thigh and tumbled to my side as the door slammed shut.  Fuck! Hard foot falls grew fainter and fainter as I crawled away from the door.  Was I safe?  He didn’t chase me.  What was that all about?  Where did my camera go?  It was still in my hand, the loop was too tight for it to slip loose. I curled up between some boxes and wrapped an arm along my side where my ribs pulsed, some were indeed broken but not enough that it would hinder my movement if I was careful.  Slamming into doors and falling onto hard floors just didn’t help. It sounded as though the patient had run off.  I would be petrified if I wasn’t so damn irritated with all of this.  It had been a nasty surprise.  He was gone, just needed to calm myself and untangle my body.  The camera seemed fine, when I’d fallen I’d tried to break my fall on my right arm.  My swollen hand tingled as sensation returned but otherwise, I couldn’t feel it below the wrist.  I avoid checking it through the NV as well, unsettled by what I might see.  It was probably bleeding again. I held no motivation to enter the room, key or not.  I’m not exactly sure what I planned to do, but I didn’t want to hang around the projector room.  I returned to the loft with the stacked crates fitted on the makeshift shelf, and could see between the gaps the illumination from the doorway that was prior locked.  I would continue to doubt the patient was gone, even if I did hear his footfalls leave.  I couldn’t afford to be reckless, it was becoming a bad habit.  I avoided the issues because it disturbed me, and I didn’t want to dwell too long on how much I was… changing.  I wasn’t the same man that crawled through the open window. I stopped beside the crates to ponder this.  Worst mistake of my career, but I was almost out, wasn’t I?  I was nearly done.  Please let it be so. There was no sound, nothing I could hear over the rattle of that damn projector.  I slipped under the shelf and crawled over to peer around the doorframe, finding nothing much, not even a room.  It was a small balcony with little space, aside from teasing me with a view of the projector room across the house.  Looking to the wall once more I noted that there was a small decorative wall protrusion I might/could trust my weight on.  I hopped the rail and set my feet on the edge, testing traction before scooting along, again with the camera shoved up into my face.  The side of the lens that was cracked distorted the image of my hand pressed to the wall, making it look like the scarred remains of some of the patients. I struggled not to shake at the thought with my back pressed into the crumbling plaster, as it was I had very little space to balance.  I pushed myself around the inner edge and came to another of the corners that had given me trouble outside, but without the rain and chill I was able to make it with no complication.  The rail ahead was bright with the blinding flicker of the movie.  I took a moment to secure the damn camera before I leapt off. I groaned when I hit, my shirt snapped free of the gash and I felt warm liquid spill across my skin. Damn it! I hauled myself into the room and looked around, making certain there was no more surprises. On my right the reel clinked, buzzing in my skull, a table beside it held stacks of films. The only other occupant was the lone corpse I had seen through the window, slumped and decomposing in its chair. The projector in front of it was cold and neglected. The key sat on the corner of the table beside the corpse. I snatched it up and fit it into my pocket.

Despite how the drone of the projector splint my thoughts, I needed to check what was up with my back.  Try and stop the blood flow if I could.  I sat by one of the balcony doors and pulled my shirt out enough to keep the fiber from getting caught on my index finger.  Even if I wasn’t beat to hell, I wouldn’t be able to twist around and see the damage.  I could only feel where the blood had clotted and dried in several layers on my skin, and the slick texture of the wound.  The blood flow had stifled somewhat now that I was still, but whenever I took a breath, fresh blood seeped forth. Not enough to kill me, not enough to slow me down.  But it did concern me. I removed my coat and set it aside.  I tried not to look on its stained surface, as I tore the fabric of my shirt at the shoulder.  It was mostly clean, I avoided the edges where the sewer water had seeped in and discolored the fabric.  Christ, I was insane.  I folded up the piece of cloth and studied it a moment, steeling myself for what I was about to do.  I’m insane, the doctors are going to take one look at me and say, “My god, this man is insane.”  Shit… this is not going to work. Tears stung my eyes as I forced the fabric into the gash.  Burns, it burns like a bitch!  Why am I doing this?!  What is wrong with me?!  I forced the material in as far as I could, and felt my throat clench as I gagged.  Don’t lose it now, keep it together.  I leaned against the door as the nausea passed, my head spinning.  What did I just do to myself?  I touched the gash with a shaky hand and found it was already soaked, but blood was no longer spilling freely. Shots of antibiotics.  No doubt I would need them if I was going to survive, but I had to get out first.  I made sure the cloth wouldn’t come undone when I started moving, and made a shabby effort of tucking my shirttail in.  I don’t know why, routine I guess.  My feet felt steadier than I expected, it must’ve been the adrenaline.  Where did I need to go? I pulled on my coat but couldn’t feel relief in the return of its weight, or the sense of security it brought, having the extra layer to protect me from the stagnant air.  I felt the weight in my pocket and recalled the key I had picked up.  Needed to get back to the gate where the disciple had set me off on this little side quest.  I decided most of this was redundant, but as much as I’d like, I couldn’t argue with a locked gate. The door that had been slammed in my face was jammed.  I didn’t need to go that way though, just needed to get to the floor and find my way back.  I climbed over the rail of the balcony and lowered myself down, without straining my patched side. A loud crunch came from the door, the light gleaming through the edge flashed as another powerful slam rocked it from the other side.  I dropped down, a bit jarred by the short landing but able to get moving to the front of the theater where I had entered.  I brought up the camera in time to swerve around the table of the dead, the beam that lit up the screen didn’t reach the floor where the EXIT door awaited.  I was aware I was fully exposed in the light and needed to move it.  I stashed the camera as the door cracked, it was holding longer than I expected.   I jumped trying to climb back into the space I’d come down through, but the plywood I snagged flipped free and slide down effectively barring any handholds I could take.  I was already trying to get up to pull it down, when the door gave a final cry and shattered. I ducked down and slipped under the light, towards a set of tables stuffed beside the barred door.  At first, I heard nothing, just the constant call of the projector as it ran till the end of days.  I tried to sift under it, listen for what it concealed, what was the danger searching for me?  The floor creaked, couldn’t decide if it was a board shifting under me, or of the ominous danger that now filled the room.  Soft foot falls slipped under the shadows as they carried weight, but that was all I could make out.  Don’t move, let the air settle. Not Chris.  Was it the twins?  I blinked the sweat from my eyes and chanced to peer up and zoom, searching through the haze of light that interfered with the NV.  Of what I could perceive, was the glint of eyes as a tall figure stalked at the back of the house and scanned out. “His liver and tongue.” The voice had been so strong I thought I had actually heard it reverberate in the theater, but it had all been in my head.  I curled down and pressed myself under the tables.  I could see one, where was the other? Worry about that later.  The steps grew louder, overtaking the sound of the projector and the diseased Rorschach’s twisting on the screen.  I wanted to bury myself deeper under the table, but I was not hidden by shadows, I was in full view in the light and vulnerable.  Exposed. Don’t look this way.  Please, don’t look this way.  Subconsciously I curled my arms against my stomach and felt my body quivering; it was incredible the floor beneath me didn’t rattle apart.  I lowered my head and held as still as I could, despite my unsteady breath.  It was painful enough clinging to my sides, but I swore I could feel it.  A vibration in my skin.  The concept unsettled me, I wanted to uncoil and escape myself, forget, but I was trapped.  I was trapped in my mind and skin.  No— The steps paused a few feet away, directly in front of the screen.  The floor boards shift as he turns, checking, searching.  Does he know I’m here?  He’s only here because Farther Martin sent me. I swallow and shift down just an inch, a sharp creek echoes in the room. But it is overtaken by the sound of steps as the figure turns.  Where is he going?  I can’t bear to look up, I just want to hide down in the wood and not be seen.  The pad-pad of steps grows softer as their owner takes them away.  Only then do I chance a glimpse up and risk raising my camera to view his direction.  His walking to the other end of the theater, opposite of me.  If he turns now….oh god. I shove myself out from where I was curled down, and dive forward, my steps echo like thunder over the tick of the film snapping.  The twin jerks around as I cut the corner, knocking a chair down with my knee as I blaze by.  I don’t glance back as I weave around the tables, my eyes fleck to either side fearful I might have missed the brother, that I’d reacted too soon.  I reach the back of the theater and that beautiful exit in five steps. Thoughts return as I near the bright hall, and beyond.  The other twin, what if he’s waiting outside?  What if they’ve anticipated this?  Not stupid, they were not stupid.  Have I just killed myself? I shoot from the theater and press myself to the wall, staring at the dark portal and the danger that lay within.  No sign of either one, I was alone.  Alone except for the dead Murkoff agent that lay beside the wall.  I brushed by the corpse and tried the door above a short set of steps.  It was locked but I was certain this was the door that had been locked when I was searching for the Recreational Hall. There was another door, up several steps, probably on level with the first floor.  I zipped by the theater, unaware if I could outrun the twins.  They always tried to corner me, did they believe I was too fast or did they dislike putting the effort into catching me?  I didn’t want to know, I didn’t want to figure it out.  They wouldn’t catch me, because I would always outsmart them. I sprint to the top of the steps and haul the gate shut on the theater behind me.  There remained no sign of either brother.  This did not mean I was no longer being hunted.  My escape would not be successful until I located the other twin, without getting killed.  The brother was nearby, and there was a whole dark hall ahead of me. A door on my left offered nothing but a small office, some books and files.  I crept inside for a moment only to regroup and steady my thudding heart.  Christ, I hated those guys.  I wiped some of the dampness from my eyes and realized, I had pretty much given up on my hands.  Fuck this place.  Really.  Fuck it. I returned to the hall and tried the handle of the glass door on my left.  It was locked but I already knew that.  Habits.  At my right was the segregation gate that I previously deduced to be locked, but was now opened into the room with the elevator where I began this small excursion.  It looked much of the same as it did when I first came through, aside from the missing twin standing on the opposite side, waiting for me.   I stepped back, but caught myself before I could back up into his brother.  I stepped into the room and shut the door behind me, never lowering my gaze from the bald individual.  With the distance it was tricky to tell, but it looked as though the gate I initially entered, was now shut, presumably locked.  I made slow progress to the other side, unable to put my faith in the door between us.   He watched me, occasionally slapping the flat side of his machete to his hand in anticipation.  He said nothing to me, made no note of how slowly he’d kill me or utter a comment about what his brother had failed to do.  I didn’t spur a conversation either, but didn’t feel relief in the silence.  He slapped that large knife against his palm, there was blood there and cuts where the edge had nicked him.  It never occurred to me as I moved that my camera was still armed, and in fact I was recording him. When I reached the gate and the stairs, I kept my focus on him as I fumbled with the key.  Nothing in his expression altered to reflect my progress, but he was a sociopath, he wasn’t obligated to look disappointed.  I wondered if he was unable to speak or express without his brother present, the concept struck a cord in me and I nearly dropped the key.  After a minute of struggling, the latch clicked.  I slipped behind the gate and slammed the door.  I doubt it would help, but I locked it and kept the key with me.  I worked hard for it, I could keep it as a souvenir.  Wear it on my neck, it’d be a great conversation starter. I passed the blood marked arrow up the winding steps and came to a dark upper floor.  The scorched and ruined upper floor came to mind, where I had nearly fallen.  I don’t know why I thought of that, but I imagined this floor was on the same level.  Movement drew my attention to the left, I jerked back and watched a someone shut a gate behind them, then step across the corridor to one of the distorted glass doors.  It looked like he was heading away from me, to where I couldn’t tell.  As I stood tense and waiting was I… hearing a choir?  No, no, I couldn’t, this was insane.  I took a deep breath and changed the battery out of my camera. Only one to go, and that’s done.  Power was getting low in the camera itself as well.  There were plenty of towers that still functioned around this place, I might be able to charge it a bit.  The thought of getting stuck in a room with my only light source ‘temporarily’ out of commission didn’t set well with me. Right beside me sat the open doors of the elevator, yellow brilliance spilling onto the clean carpet.  At first I was startled to see it in good order, then recalled the elevator I had trapped Trager in was on the furthest side of the Asylum, the outdated and forgotten section.  I entered and tried the buttons, but nothing would function without the key.  I didn’t keep the one from the last elevator, hadn’t thought about it at the time believing I was escaping and the elevator was busted with that sick fuck pinned in it.  That was IF they were universal, having the key only to learn they were not, would have made me sleep better at night.  I gave up on the elevator, and ventured into the dark floor with my camera at the ready. The steel door across the room gave a hollow clunk as the lock held.  When I turned, I whirled away startled by, of all things, a god damn plant.  Fuck.  I recovered and glowered on the dried foliage by the wall, my heart hammered painfully against my ribs.  I don’t think I deserved that.  Gently, I tipped it over with my foot and let the soil dump out with the dry roots.  Better keep moving, just try not to get startled by plants anymore.  Fuck, that was stupid. A few feet along the wall sat another door of stainless steel.  The handle turned easily in my grip, modern and practically brand new.  I shut it for the time, and crossed to the adjacent wall, and the segregation gate there.  It was locked, but it was good to know for sure.  Lamps beyond the gate shone down on the carpet, but I was appreciating my return to the soothing shadows.  This floor, where I was right now, felt kind of nice.  Even if there was no music, I didn’t feel the immediate danger creeping into my person.  Just like when I first entered, everything had looked normal from a glance.  From a glance….  I slipped through the steel door and shut it behind me, as my usual precaution.  I was in another kitchen, with all the modern updates Murkoff incorporated for their staff.  It was with a lot of space, between the countertops set up in the rooms center and against the walls with a few abandoned and empty bowls scattered around.  Rafters were fixed to hang above these kitchenware islands, adorned with hooks and a pot on nearly each one.  Most the free space along the walls was covered with cabinets or freezers, no doubt full of provisions.  A few other odd end sort of kitchen utilities were set up, such as the mobile shelves stacked with trays, and counter space with numerous sinks lined up for the kitchen staff. No bodies, no blood.  From all appearances it was a normal kitchen someplace ordinary, such as the moon. Or almost so.  I stood motionless and listened as metal clinked, and searched around for a set of pots that swayed gently on their hooks.  A draft.  It was a draft, air moving through the vents.  Change in pressure.  I was shaking, seemed like I was shaking constantly now and that frightened me, about as much as the big fuckers grin. I went to one of the cabinets and opened it, hunting for something to hold me until I reached the town.  After a few minutes of searching I had very little to show for my efforts, and gave up.  The survivors must have hit the kitchen for rations, many were left emaciated while Murkoff was in control of their lively hood.  It didn’t appear that their situation had improved, since then. I did find a package of individually wrapped honey cakes, there were only two left but that was enough.  Just some sugar and carbs to keep me going, and some water from the tap.  I did get off the thick layer of blood that had formed on my hands, which resulted in black, watery stains around my sleeves and dark speckles marking up my knuckles.  As long as I didn’t look like some serial killer. I felt better with the sugar in my system.  I had a want to curb some of the ache in my head by eating something, but it was too soon to tell if low blood-sugar was the culprit.  If anything, it felt like the noise was getting worse.  My thoughts crawled through my brain, I sometimes didn’t see the shapes, then there would be static but I wasn’t staring through the visor. One door to a pair was left ajar, I pressed it open entering into another cafeteria.  Long tables set in rows, chairs stacked or tossed into piles across the floor.  On the other side of the room was a human shape, silhouetted against the pale light of the windows.  I shut the door gently, and worked my way around the room, eyes locked on the person. A door on the right side of the room was locked.  I debated a moment, wondering where exactly I was meant to go.  Clearly I was still on this ‘mission’ Father Martin had set me on, I had achieved the key from behind the light… Where did the disciple say I was headed?  The house of God.  The house of God would be a church.  Well, I knew where I would end up, but how did I get there?   I walked to check the other side for a door, but moved closer than safe to the man, and paused to stare out the window.  He was just gazing through the fogged glass, into the dead of night, as the rain streaked and trickled down in long, fading lines.  His head was bowed and his hands clasped together, but I could make out the mutilation to his lips and face. We stood in silence for a moment, still as the night waiting for something.  A brilliant ark split the sky, filling the room with a white haze.  I’m certain he knew I was there but he refused to acknowledge me.  I don’t know if there was an unspoken settlement shared between us, or if the man felt the same as I did.  Whatever it was, it was there and there was nothing to say about it.  Without word or gesture I resumed my path, finding a door left ajar on the other side of the room.  I shut it after me, and met another door barricaded in the usual hasty fashion. A dead end and side table sat at the right, I turned left and moved forward to check around a corner on my right.  It was short hall with the lone door blocked with plywood, I paused as the image in the visor sputtered, then moved on.  I was nearly shocked by the lack of gore and mayhem, though the rancid musk of dried out skin clung to the air, it wasn’t the overpowering rot of fetid intestines.  I wanted to revel in the radical change, but it was an illusion.  A— I ducked my head out of the gleam of the visor and blinked my eyes, working out the harsh impression.  Spots dotted the edges of my vision.  Keep moving.  Just keep moving.  The hall was completely empty, save for me.  I pressed my fingers against the base of my neck and let the pain subside as I shuffled forward. The lamp at the halls end expressed enough light I could take off the nightvision, for a short time.  A door opened on my right, entering into the room that was most likely boarded up from the short hall I passed.  I checked around the corner, believing the humming I felt might be interfering with my hearing.  Sometimes I sensed the noise, but other times, like now in the near silence of the room, I thought the sound was somehow imagined by me.  I tried to pop my ears by adjusting my jaw, or yawning, but it didn’t help.  Like when I first came into the mountain region, that pressure build up.  But now, it was hornets in my head. When did I start thinking hornets? The room appeared to be another recreational room, or lounge.  There was a pool table across from the door, with a game set up and Q-balls scattered.  A few stools were scattered around, beside a thin counter for refreshments.  I stepped further into the room, through its center chairs had been lined up before a screen, beside one of the large decorative support columns.  Along the wall on my right, chairs had been placed before computer terminals left to display login screens of blue, a few remained black and inactive.  A station I could use to charge my camera, if I was so inclined.  It wasn’t the highest priority on my list, to be honest.  That might’ve been another mistake on my part. I turned to the monotone scratch of static playing on the large screen, that the chairs were set to face.  I was startled by the man knelt, speaking calmly to his deity.  It took a moment for my panic to fade, as I reassured myself he was fully absorbed in his prayer.  The camera was leveled beside my chest, but I adjusted its position to film properly. “The static again.  A patient knelt in prayer.  Maybe he bought Father Martin’s line of bullshit.  Maybe he hears what I hear but more clearly.  Maybe it’s his way out of this place.  The Priest called it the Gospel of Sand.” For a while I stood near him, watching the screen in somewhat of a trance.  I didn’t realize I had lowered the camera until my index finger brushed the crisp material of my jeans.  I glanced at them briefly, before I returned my focus to the screen, and the image that was there but… it couldn’t be.  No.  But, if  I squinted and turned my head sideways, working to understand what it was.  In the static, I WAS seeing something.  A form, a shape, a face.  Staring back at me.  And the patient saw it too. I blink and I see Rorschach tests that look like swarming insects and infected surgery wounds. The hair on my neck stood on end and that subtle stabbing in my temple resumed at force.  Staring at static would make you go blind.  But I couldn’t help it.  I backed away, bumping the side of a chair with my leg before I had ripped my gaze away.

What I had seen in the lounge was no coincidence, no delusion.  But what was I seeing?  What had I witnessed?  It was a hallucination from the stress, amplified by the pulse of static.  In the shadows, I was seeing shapes every time I blinked, why not in the dead channel.  It was getting worse, the vertigo.  If I tried to recall the shapes, the pain intensified like a hot poker twisting through the base of my skull.  Until my vision doubled and the floor tilted.

I made it to the doorframe before I collapsed.  My head was aching so bad I was nauseated, but I was done throwing up.  That buzzing, in the air and everywhere, I couldn’t escape it, not until there was distance.  Not until I had run away.  But I couldn’t even stand, when I raised my head a new wave of pain surged through my skull. I switched the camera off and just lay by the door listening to the sound in the walls, the prayers of the forgotten people as they begged for the salvation they had been promised.  This would pass, it always did.  If I gave my body the time to catch up, I would be good to go.  I took steady breaths and just rested for a short spell, I shut my eyes trying to understand what it was they were asking.  What was it we had in common? To escape the nightmare.

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Two Hundred Sixty-Four: Within the Lines ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Hyūga Hiashi, Uchiha Mikoto, Uchiha Itachi ] [ SasuHina, death ] [ Verse: Best Years of Your Life ] [ AO3 Link ]

“Are you sure it’s no trouble?”

“Not at all! Itachi watches Sasuke on his own quite often. They’ll be just fine.”

“Well, Hanabi is so young…”

“Itachi helped me all the time when Sasuke was little! It’s been a while since then, but he’s been brushing up in preparation. Don’t worry, Hiashi - it’s only for a few hours. And Itachi has both our cell phone numbers if something goes awry. Not that there’s anything to worry about. Both Sasuke and Hinata are so well-behaved. I’m sure they’ll all be just fine.” Expression full of sympathy, Mikoto murmurs, “...I know this hasn’t been easy. But we’re here to help however we can. I’m sorry we can’t be home today, but...I trust Itachi implicitly. He’s a mature young man, and he’ll be just as attentive and prepared as we would be.”

The Hyūga sighs. “And I...appreciate that. Arranging all of this by myself is...difficult. And I want to try to keep Hinata out of the details until it’s all...said and done. I don’t even know if she’ll comprehend what’s happened. But the less I expose her to the gruesome side of things, the better.”

“Any time you need her watched, just let us know. She’s always welcome at our house. You all are, Hiashi. Hanako, she was...one of my closest friends. No one will miss her more than you and your family, but...you aren’t alone in this. Please know that.”

“I do. Well...I better get to the funeral parlor. There’s...a lot to discuss. Thank you again.”

“Of course. Just come get the girls whenever you’re ready. Itachi will handle things from there.”

Nodding gravely, Hiashi watches as Mikoto calls her sons downstairs. His own two children are waiting in the car, fetched once she begins instructing Itachi on what he’ll be doing for the day. “Come, Hinata. You’ll be staying with the Uchiha today, all right?”

“O-okay…” Released from her car seat, Hinata stands attentively in the driveway as her father retrieves her sister, asleep in her own safety seat. “Are you...busy?”

“Yes. I have errands to run in town, and...well, it’s best I do them alone, understand?”

“Yes, Papa.”

“Now, you behave while you’re here. Itachi is going to be keeping an eye on you, so...be on your best behavior for him.”

“Itachi…?”

“Mikoto and Fugaku also have someplace to be, but Itachi is old enough to watch you for a few hours, until I get back.”

Large eyes blinking, Hinata just nods. She knows both Uchiha boys rather well - spending an afternoon with them will be fun!

Taking the girls back inside, Hiashi entrusts Hanabi in her carrier to the elder brother. “She’ll probably just sleep most of the time, but I have all her things in her bag - formula, bottles, diapers, all that.”

“Yes sir,” Itachi replies dutifully. “I know how to do all that.”

“Good. And...well, Hinata should be no trouble. Um…” He pauses, trying to sort through his scrambled thoughts. “...I think that’s everything. You have my number if you have any questions.”

“Yes sir. Don’t worry. They’re in good hands.” He gives Hiashi a soft smile. “I’ll call you if anything comes up.”

“Thank you. Well...I’d better get going.”

“Us too,” Mikoto agrees. “Itachi dear, we’ll be back pretty late, so be sure to get Sasuke into bed at a decent hour.”

“Yes, Mom.”

With that, the three adults take their leave, the three able children waving from a window as Itachi holds a snoozing Hanabi. “So,” he asks, looking to the two five year olds. “What do you guys want to do while the adults are gone? We can...watch a movie, or do some coloring...maybe play with some of Sasuke’s toys, if he wants to share.”

“I...I don’t mind what we do,” Hinata replies, always conscious of treading on others’ toes. “What do you w-want to do?”

“Mom just got us a new movie,” Sasuke offers, looking to his fellow kindergartener. “Wanna watch that first?”

“O-okay!”

Itachi sets up the movie, fetching a few snacks for the younger pair from the kitchen. It’s clear he’s rather used to this, adeptly putting together some fruit, crackers, cheese, and drinks in spill-proof sippy cups. Positioning them in front of the TV, he distributes their goodies and gets the movie playing. With them on the couch, he takes a rocking chair, carefully keeping the baby asleep as a children’s movie plays.

Hinata and Sasuke both watch attentively, slowly munching their snacks. Even Itachi watches, occasionally checking the clock and the phone his mother left for any messages. But once the credits roll and the snack boxes are empty, it’s time for another activity.

“Sasuke, why don’t you go get some of your crayons and coloring books? We’ll sit at the table and color for a while.” By then, Hanabi is beginning to fuss a bit, gurgling as her sleep threatens to break.

“Okay!” Scampering up to his room, Sasuke soon returns with the supplies, hefting himself into a chair in the dining room.

Shyly, Hinata takes the seat beside him, accepting a coloring book.

“Hey, wanna see some Itachi did?”

“Sure.” 

Flipping open the pages, Sasuke points. “See? He’s so good at staying within the lines!”

Hinata can’t help but perk up in surprise. True to his word, the lines are all cleanly kept, and there’s even some shading on the picture! “Wow...that looks r-really good!”

“Yeah! My big brother is good at everything,” Sasuke boasts with a grin.

From in the kitchen where he’s heating formula, Itachi retorts, “Not everything, Sasuke.”

“Yeah huh!”

The elder brother just chuckles, gently bouncing Hanabi in his arms.

“Well...here, take these,” Sasuke instructs, pushing a pile of crayons to Hinata. “Let’s see if we can do it too!”

“O...okay!” A little intimidated by Itachi’s pretty coloring, Hinata nonetheless takes up her crayons, and starts filling in a little farm scene. She makes the barn a bright red, the grass green, and a tractor grey.

“Hm...what color should this be?” Holding up his book, Sasuke points to a funny shape in his scene. It looks like underwater, but Hinata has no idea what the shape is supposed to be.

“...uh…” She looks over his options. “How about...p-purple?” It’s her favorite color.

“Okay!” With that matter oh so easily settled, Sasuke gets back to work, carefully coloring. His concentration is so strong, he doesn’t notice the tip of his tongue sticking out from the corner of his mouth, brow furrowed as he stares at the page.

Hinata stifles a giggle at the sight, going back to her own scene. Looking at a cow, she decides to color it brown, humming softly as she idly kicks her legs under the table.

With Hanabi’s bottle ready, Itachi takes a seat opposite the pair. The little infant takes to it eagerly, hardly giving him any fuss. “How’s it going guys?”

“Itachi, look at my fish!” Eager for appreciation, Sasuke holds up his booklet. “See?”

“I do!”

“The red one is you! Dad is brown, and Mom is blue...and I’m blue, too!”

“Is there a Hinata or Hanabi fish?” Itachi asks, smiling.

“...uh…” Looking at his page again, he replies, “There’s no more fish…”

“Well, maybe in the next picture. What about you, Hinata?”

“O-oh, um…” Shyly, shy turns her book, holding it up and almost hiding behind it. “It...it’s a f-farm.”

“The cow looks very nice.”

“It’s a chocolate milk cow!” Sasuke declares, laughing.

“Are there chocolate milk cows…?” Hinata asks, looking at her page.

Itachi smiles. “I don’t think so, Hinata. But there are brown cows who make regular milk.”

“Itachi, you know everything!”

“Not everything, Sasuke. There’s lots I don’t know. But it’s good to learn.”

Absorbed in their activity, the younger pair color several more pages, Itachi even doing a few as Hanabi sits in her carrier and watches.

“There, all done.”

“That looks awesome!”

“Thank you, Sasuke. You guys did a good job, too. Look how tidy your colors are!” Itachi praises.

The pair beam, a little pink at the compliment.

Itachi then makes them some supper: nothing fancy, just some sandwiches and more fruit, refilling their cups. “Sorry, I can’t use the stove yet,” he admits.

“Sandwiches are g-good!” Hinata offers, more than happy with her peanut butter and jelly. “Thank you, Itachi.”

“You’re welcome.”

It’s then the cell phone vibrates, and Itachi checks it. “Ah, Hinata, your dad is on his way back. He’ll be here soon. Finish up your supper, and then we’ll get ready to go.”

They’re just finishing when headlights flash across the front windows. All packed up, Itachi greets Hiashi at the door, assuring him everything went swimmingly.

Behind him, Sasuke and Hinata turn to give their goodbyes. “Guess I’ll see you later,” the boy offers.

“Yeah...bye, Sasuke. Thanks for letting me come over.”

“It was fun! We’ll color more with big brother when you come back.”

“O-okay!” Following her father out to the car, she nods when he asks if she had a fun time. “Yeah, it was n-nice. Sasuke and I practiced coloring, and we stayed inside the lines real good!”

“Good…” Tone tired and somber, Hiashi buckles her into her seat. “You might have to be there a lot for a little while, all right?”

“That’s okay. Itachi and Sasuke are my best friends!”

“...that’s good. Now, let’s go home, Hinata.”

“Okay, Papa.”

                                                         .oOo.

     Well, this is a little angsty, but otherwise just some childhood friend style fluff. No matter the verse, I love the idea of Sasuke and Hinata getting to be friends as kids. They'd get along so well ;w;      But anyway, it's super late, so I'ma go. Thanks for reading!

[originaljediinjeans]

The Other Captain

After she left Earth, her memories didn’t come back all at once. Only slowly, over the many years she was in space, they would trickle through one or two at a time. Sometimes they would come without prompting, while she was in a battle or busy with a task that required some focus. Sometimes they came while she was sitting alone, having time to herself. There would be times when she was doing something that sparked a vague flicker of something similar from the back of her mind and it would flare into a clearer image. 

Once when she was flying through the atmosphere of one planet with her hair loose, something about the wind rushing over her face brought something to mind: it was a scene of her childhood, when she was riding back and forth on a swing with her hair flipping over her eyes, pushing herself with her legs and back as high as she could and wishing she could take off from the seat and into the clouds--and then she was back in the present, flying in the clouds on another world. 

She made it a point as she traveled through the far reaches of the universe to get to know the different peoples she worked with. She was on the planet Hoosom with the Nuvutarn people: tall, burly humanoids with bluish purple skin and four muscular arms. Their custom was to invite their guests to sit by their evening campfires for the evening meal and then hours of jokes and storytelling. They loved the best tales of the deeds and exploits of great heroes, and they had many generations’ worth of such lore that they would exchange, from their own culture as well as those from across the stars brought by other travelers. Carol humored her hosts with the story of how she had been captured by the Kree and then liberated herself from them, down to the details of the Skrulls hiding on Mar-vell’s satellite and the strange Flerken that had aided her and her friends in battle. The Nuvutarn were duly entertained. 

Afterward, while listening to another Nuvutarn tale, Carol remembered something from her childhood on Earth. They had stories of heroes there as well, some from their history, but many in children’s stories and cartoons and in the movies she had seen growing up. There was one hero in particular that struck her memory, a strange mascot called Captain America.

Carol didn’t recall if he was a real military captain at all, only that he had fought in a war a generation or so before her time. They called him a captain because he was a leader, for the same reason they called her captain. It was a title of respect on many worlds. 

Captain America had been on at least one cartoon TV show that she had watched with her brothers growing up. They had also hoarded comic books of the captain’s adventures and tried to keep her from reading them. So she would sneak into their bedroom sometimes to steal one or two of the thin booklets, and then read at night under her covers with a flashlight, and sometimes her father would catch her and take the comic books away. All of these thoughts came to her mind as a series of images that she knew were connected. 

He was also portrayed as a hero in her history books at school. She had had a habit of skipping the textbook pages during her lessons to see the photographs and diagrams and maps of great battles and weapons and warships. In one text book she did this and came across a photo of Captain America standing in a noble pose, surrounded by his fellow soldiers. He had been better-looking in real life than he was in the cartoons. But she had always gone on to the photos of military aircraft after pausing to look at the Captain. The old airplanes were so much more interesting to her. 

Captain America had been more real to her as a pop culture legend than as a historical figure--that was as true for anyone else as it was for her. He was a mascot meant to represent her country, the United States, so his blue ridiculous costume had the red and white stripes of their national flag, as did the painted shield that he used to bash the heads of his caricature enemies. He was always preaching moral values: stay in school, work hard, safety first, don’t do drugs, and punch people who don’t espouse the virtues of liberty and justice for all. Captain America rescued a good numbers of damsels in distress on a regular basis. And he had a sidekick with a funny name that Carol couldn’t recall, but that sidekick had an even more ridiculous costume and a bad habit of getting into trouble that Cap always had to save him from. 

The memory caused Carol to smile as she was lost in thought. Her brothers had played Captain America when they were younger, taking turns carrying the lid of a large cooking pot or being the bad guy that got punched. Sometimes they would let her play, but they would make her play the person who needed to be rescued. Or, even better, the bad guy. Then they would get so caught up in the hero versus villain fight that they would neglect her, so she would sneak away and go play in the sandbox or on the slide in their backyard and then they would yell at her for not waiting for them. 

Young Carol hadn’t envied her brothers too much for getting to play the part of Captain America in their games. She never wanted to be Captain America. Or his dumb sidekick. Much less any damsel in distress or a villain. But sometimes in her childhood daydreams, she remembered, when she dreamed about flying, she had thought of herself as a pilot from the last great war, and she would fly Captain America on a secret mission behind enemy lines and he would parachute out of her plane. Or she and Cap would fly in separate fighter planes and get into an old-fashioned dogfight with the enemy air force. How funny that on some of her missions these days that her allies were flying her to meet their enemies and she would jump out of their vessels, powering herself in flight and fully aflame.

She remembered all of those things as images and short scenes, moments that were silenced by time. Her imagination had to fill in the gaps. Then the sound of Nuvutarn laughter brought Carol out of her reverie. Had that been what her childhood had sounded like in its happier times? Grown-ups laughing at their own stories as children laughed in their games?

She blinked at the fire in the center of the circle. How long had she been staring at it in distraction, or just not caring where she looked as she wondered? She watched the flames dance for a moment, heard them snap and pop as they devoured their fuel. 

Captain, friend, one of the Nuvutarn asked, are you still with us?

You’ll have to forgive me, she said, straightening herself, I was lost in thought. I’ve told you what the Kree did to my memories. I have to sit and think, sometimes.

Her hosts gave a hearty laugh. Tell us, then, if you are from Earth, do they have other great heroes that they tell legends about?

Carol had to shrug in reply. The Nuvutarn guffawed at her. 

I’m sorry, she told them, but I’ve told you I just don’t remember Earth very well. I’m working on it.

[roninishere]

Frantic || six ||

(Gif not mine)

WARNINGS:  Language, Soft Billy Hargrove, teen pregnancy, assholes, more daddy issues, rush wiritng, shit ending, my horrible grammer and word count is… 2273

Frantic

||

    Things got a bit easier after Billy Hargrove convinced Raven Henderson to stay here in Hawkins. On the flip side, as good things came along, so did the bad.

    Once Billy returned home, he was met by his father who was already waiting for him when he arrived. Seeing his father at the dinning room table, Billy slowly closed the door behind him with a deep sigh.

    "Take a seat son." Neil's stern voice made Billy's skin crawl with chills down his back.

   Doing so, Billy dropped his bag at the side of his chair, and took a seat at the table, across from his father. He knew he was in for a load of trouble; rose his voice at his father the day before, left, didn't come home, and finally was home with a big goofy smile on his face.

    "Where were you? Last night?" Technically, Billy didn't have to answer, Neil knew the answer, he just wanted to hear those words come out of his mouth.

   Able to read past his fathers bull, he rolled his eyes before answering "I was at Raven's."

    Slamming his fists down on the table, Billy immediately flinched at his fathers actions cowering a bit back in his chair "I specifically told you to stay away from that girl! You should have just let her leave!"

    "I couldn't dad, I love her." The words immediately left the boys mouth and he didn't regret them. In the short amount of time he's been around Raven, he's fallen helplessly in love with her. Not because she's the mother of his child, but because he feels like himself with her. That no matter what he could say or do, she could never turn her back to him. Everything she's done to this point, has been for him.

    Sighing deeply, Neil's hands clenched up into fists shaking his head at the nonsense he was hearing "No you don't. You don't know what love is."

    "Yeah, well either do you! You didn't give a damn about mom and you definitely don't give a shit about me!" Billy finally told his father standing up on his feet with a finger pointed at his father.

   Knowing he crossed a line, he hadn't seen the fist that connected with his cheek...

||

    Finishing up the paperwork at the station, Florence went over her schedule and had her help out with some small tasks that she easily did. Going over things she needed, and had to wear, she gave Raven her new badge and booklet.

    "I'll see you tomorrow Ms. Henderson." Florence smiled as she held her hand out, Raven shook it with a bright smile. "See you tomorrow Flo! Thank you."

    Gathering her things into her bag, she pulled her bag on. She knew Billy had basketball practice so they agreed she'd walk home because it was so much closer than Benny's Diner.

    "Hey kid, where's that Hargrove kid?" Hopper hadn't seen the camaro pull up or Billy roar the engine to grab Raven's attention.

   "He had basketball practice. I told him I'd walk."

   Hopper didn't like the idea of having a pregnant woman, regardless if the kid is seventeen and young. With a sigh, he recognized that it was one of the slower days at the station so he rocked forward in his seat grabbing his hate and keys. "I'll drop you off kid, I gotta go get something to eat anyways."

    Wanting to argue, she held her tongue back actually wanting to speak to Hopper about a couple of things, and more like she needs his opinion. Once they got in her car she pulled her seat belt on, and when they got on the road, she stated "You know."

    "It took me a while to put it together, is it yours or his idea to not say anything?"

    That was a complicated question because they hadn't even discussed it since she said they'd come up with the excuse that she's tutoring him. "Mine," She chewed on her nail as she had her elbow leaned on the car door "I just thought it'd be easier for everyone to say terrible things about me cause I am a terrible person. And then Billy, there's a great side of him and I don't know, I didn't want to drag his name in mud with me."

    "You're not a terrible person, you just can be a bit rebellious. You're different. To be completely honest, I don't think you could have gotten in a situation with anyone else. Neil's kid isn't the brightest or the best, but it's the way he looks at you. It's the same look I use to look at my ex-wife. He cares about you and there's a bright future for you guys. I'm really happy." Hopper being the big old dad he is makes Raven smile to hear a grown adult tell her that.

     Someone that has been through hell and back telling a kid that she's doing great and knows everything will be fine.

    "So you guys got anything planned for the break?"

   About that..."I was thinking about getting some plane tickets and take him back to California for the break. It'd be nice to see where he's come from, and to get out of here for a bit. What'd you think?"

    "That's not a bad idea. I think you two need to go enjoy a bit of life because when that kids' here, it'll be hard to do that type of stuff."

  Okay, so she wasn't crazy for wanting to do that for her and Billy for Christmas. Check.

   "I thought so," she paused to enjoy the sight of small children playing in the snow "how are they?"

    He didn't have to ask who she was speaking of. Glancing over at her view, the families traveling to the nearest store and playing in snow and by the look on her face, it made her think of her family. "They're doing alright, Claudia came by the other day to ask me how you were. Said something like your dad isn't allowing her to come see you. And Dustin, well, he's doing good. He's staying distracted with his friends."

    "I'm glad they're doing good."

||

    After getting settled at home, Raven made a couple of calls to ask around for those plane tickets and went ahead and made an appointment for the gynecologist for during the week.

    Checking marking off some things on her list, she slightly jumped at the sudden knock at the door before getting up to see who it was.

    Opening the door, it exposed a very non confident Billy with multiple cuts and blood on his shirt.

   "H-hey Princess...mind of I can stay here? Permanently?" By the fact he wasn't looking at her in the eye said it all. His dad kicked him out, and so much guilt overcame her as she could only imagine how it went when he got home.

    Opening her door to him, she helped bring his things inside. It wasn't much, his clothes mostly but it was very quiet. He didn't say anything when she patched up him, again, and after, he sat at the island. His eyes never left the counter as Raven ordered pizza over the landline. Once she set the phone back on the wall, she rubbed her hands on her pants as she walked over to him. Normally she wouldn't say anything, but all they had was each other until this baby arrived.

   Setting her hand on his shoulder, she stood next to him "Billy..." His glossy blue ones met hers, and the nod she gave him, he buried his face in her chest letting out those years of built up emotions in the form of sobs and tears. "I'm sorry," She laid a kiss on his head through his messy curls of his mullet, and ran her fingers through it down by the nape of his neck. "I'm so sorry."

    He held onto her tightly as he continued to sob for about few more minutes, and pulled back. He kept his arm around her waist with his head as he got to his feet "We'll be okay, we'll be okay." Billy kept repeating trying to convince himself that they'll be okay.

||

   "Are you nervous?" Nervous herself, the silence was killing her, so she thought she'd shift to ask Billy who was pacing back and forth.

   Once she asked him that question, he stop pacing, shaking his head almost too quickly "No, me nervous?"

   "Liar," She teased laying down on the little bed waiting for the gynecologist, they both couldn't wait to find out the gender of their baby. Growing tired of pacing, Billy finally took a seat next to Raven, his elbows resting on his thigh as his left leg was bouncing up and down. Where the hell was this lady at? "I hope it's a boy."

   The weird look on his face was kinda priceless, a boy? "I hope not, he'll be just like me."

   "You're only an asshole because your dad. We can assure that doesn't happen, parenting is everything." Maybe not the right choice of words, but she got the point across. Billy never wants to be the man his father is, there's good in him, just takes time to move past it.

   With a deep sigh, he calmed down nodding as he took her hand in his own, squeezing it tightly when the gynecologist entered with a file and a big smile. “Hello, I'm Renee," she came in shook hands with her “Raven Henderson, and you must be the father."

   “Billy." He shook her hand, and took his position back next to Raven, waiting with her curious eyes. Renee looked between them with some judgemental thoughts.

   “Nice to meet you, so let's see how's the baby doing and find the gender yes?"

    Getting nods, she applied the gel on Ravens belly causing her to shiver. Setting the device on, everyone's eyes were glued to the ultrasound as soon as they heard a few beeps.

    “Oh wow," Renee said making Billy and Raven nervous with an immediate 'what?' "You are having healthy twin boys."

    Hold up, what? Twins?

    In disbelief, the excitement was way above that, Raven's face lit up instantly with Billy. Boys, Raven wanted boys, healthy is amazing, and there will be two. Enjoy the moment, he told himself when he felt himself start to stress about things that he couldn't control at that moment. He chuckled smiling when Raven immediately asked for copies of the ultrasound. After getting them some copies, she went over everything for them, such as the delivery date and to make sure she comes back in a couple of months for a check up.

||

   "Now, I know today's been a lot for you, but, I have a surprise for you." Raven told Billy as she searched for it in her bag, and handed him a envelope with a little shit grin on her face.

   Obviously noticing the grin, he was curious of what kind of mischief she was creating "What's this?"

    Weeks, she's with held this surprise from him, and she was going to exploded and just tell him herself "Open it!" She told him losing a lot of patience. "Alright, alright. Jesus," Opening the envelope, he pulled out two plane tickets to California with a bewildered look, "what's this?"

   "I figured we both could get the hell out of here for a bit, and I really want you to show me where you grew up. Plus, I've never been to the beach before. We leave tomorrow." Hearing all of those words leave her mouth, Billy gave her the biggest smile ever, and couldn't believe that she never amazes to surprise him. 

   First off, she bought the tickets. Second, she obviously put some real planning into it because they leave tomorrow, and third, she wants to see where he was raised and learn more about Billy's life. The real Billy Hargrove, not the crazy asshole sex Billy, even though that's how this all happened haha.

   "You're serious?" He still couldn't wrap his head around this reality. They're going to California?!

   Nodding, she confirmed what she said "Yes Billy, we're going to California for Winter break, get your shit packed."

   "You're the best!" So badly wanting to kiss her, he went for a kiss on her cheek instead, before getting his things packed. It didn't take him that long either, but it took Raven FOREVER. Not because she was a girl, but because she had no idea how to pack for California weather. Looking at the side of the closet with her clothes, she had her hands on her hips letting out a huff of frustration.

   What do people in California even wear? How cold it there this time of the year?

   "Billy..." She whined finally giving in "what is the appropriate attire for California?"

   Quickly snatching the camera off the counter and snapping a photo, he laughed at her glare at him before putting his hands up being caught "No big bulky jackets, but take a sweater, no thick clothes. It's chilly there, but not snowing." Pulling out some outfits he thought was perfect, he helped folding them before he nearly forgot.

    "Crap, I need to call Kevin and see if he'll let me see if he'll let me borrow one of his dad's cars." Kevin, she's heard him talk about Kevin a couple times when he would talk about his days in California.

   Hearing Billy getting all excited over the landline to Kevin, Raven glanced over at the ultrasound photo thinking, we're gonna be fine.

|| 

Hey guys! Sorry for the late and shitty update, but I’ve had so much going on lately, and I have no making imagines and fanfic I need to finish. If you don’t already know, I leave on the 30th of this month for Bootcamp, so I will be trying to wrap up the fanfic, so bare with me :) 

-Cammy

Tagline: @50-shades-of-boredom  / @shelby-company-limited / @lalalindsay25631888 / @http://overrthinker.tumblr.com/ / @http://illatimes.tumblr.com/ @https://kaykay4454fan.tumblr.com/ / @https://dacres-koala.tumblr.com/  @http://endofthefuckingfangirl.tumblr.com/ @https://frickin-bats.tumblr.com/

Did I forget anyone in the tagline?

[myownsuperintendent]

Fic: “Moving” (”Welcome” Series Part IV)

With the help of Mulder and Scully, William moves into his dorm room.  Rated G and also here on Ao3.  This is the fourth and (at least to the best of my knowledge) final part in my “Welcome” series, based on Season 11 casting speculation.  Parts one through three are:

“Welcome”--here

“Conversations”--here

“At the House”--here

.....

They come back from the housewares store around the corner with a few last things—a trash can, a package of five hangers, a bottle of laundry detergent.  Will sets the detergent on a shelf, while Mulder puts the trash can near the door and Dana takes the cardboard off the hangers and puts them in the wardrobe (they don’t really need three people to do this, but he lets them help).  It’s only them in the room right now; his roommate, Ben, went somewhere with a guy he knows from high school.

“Do you have everything you need?” Dana asks.  

“I think so, yeah,” Will says.  “Thanks.” He didn’t imagine moving in like this, even last year, even when he worked on his college essay (they wanted you to write about a significant experience, and he wrote about everything he’d learned on the cross-country team, hoping that maybe if he pretended that he wasn’t having a vastly more significant experience right at that very moment and that everything he’d thought about his life hadn’t blown up, the whole thing would just go away).  But this is how it’s happening.  He’s just spent two days driving from Washington to Boston with Dana and Mulder, and they’ve helped him set up his dorm room, and now here the three of them are, looking at each other, not totally sure what comes next.

“When’s your orientation meeting?” Dana asks.

He looks at the schedule again.  “Three-thirty.”  About half an hour from now.

Mulder nods.  “Are you ready?” he asks.  “Is there anything else the two of us can do?”

“Yeah, I think I’m ready,” Will says.  “I’m pretty much set, I think.”  There’s nothing so special in their questions.  He never really thought about this part, but if he had, he probably would have imagined it like this: the same questions, only not with these two asking them.  It would have been—well, he still doesn’t know what to call them now, not even in his thoughts.  Even when he’s angry, it’s hard not to call them his parents.  And these questions that Dana and Mulder are asking now are the kinds of questions parents always ask, he figures, at least if they care about you.  Which he’s pretty sure now that the two of them do.  Which he always thought that the others did.

“Okay,” Mulder says. He’s drumming his fingers on Will’s desk; Dana nudges him with her hip.  “Should we stick around for a little longer?”

“We can go if you want time to yourself,” Dana says. “But we can stay if you want us to.” She straightens his towel on its bar so that its edges are lined up, her movements jerky.  They both look like they’re waiting for him to tell them what to do.

There’s a part of Will that wants them to stay longer, that feels like there should be some sort of moment here, some dramatic words exchanged.  But there’s also a part of him that doesn’t want this to be dramatic at all.  He wants them to go, to spend the night in Boston and then head home and call him on the phone a bunch, with the knowledge that they’ll be back—that he’ll see them in October at Family Weekend—never in the slightest doubt.

They’re both still looking at him.  The past is always there, but he feels as close as he can get to that certainty. “Yeah,” he says.  “You can go.”

A little pause, and then they nod.  “So,” Mulder says.  “This is it.”

“I guess so,” Will says.

Mulder moves to hug him, and he hugs back, for a little longer than he might on a normal day, but not so long that it gets weird.  “We’ll miss you a lot, Will,” he says.  “But you’re going to do great here.  Work hard, okay?  But not too hard.  Do some crazy things too.”

“Okay,” Will says. “But I’m a little afraid of what you mean by that.”  Mulder’s laugh sounds a little unsteady, like he’s getting choked up, but he’s smiling as he moves away and lets Dana have her turn at a hug.

She’s got tears in her eyes.  “We’re going to miss you so much,” she says.  “Mulder’s right, though.  You’re going to have an amazing time.  Call us, okay?  Call us tomorrow and tell us how you’re doing.  We’ll call you too…but it’s okay if you don’t answer right away, we’ll know you’re busy getting settled, meeting people…”  It’s nice of her to say; he knows from how often they touch on the topic of phone calls and e-mail that they’re anxious about not hearing from him. “You’re going to do so well,” she says, wiping at her eyes.

“I’ll call,” he says. “Definitely.  I’m going to miss both of you too.”  It’s strange to think that he really means it.

“We love you,” Dana says.  “So much.”

“We really do,” Mulder adds.  

They tell him this all the time.  He knows it would make them happy if he said it back or if he called them Mom and Dad. Emily does those things, and sometimes he wishes it were as easy for him.  They’ve never asked him, though, not once.

Right now, he hugs them again, both at the same time, the three of them entwined.  They’re both crying a little by now.  This one is a long hug.

They all look at each other for another moment when they pull apart.  Dana is the first to speak.  “Okay then.  This is going to get messy if we drag it out.  Let’s say goodbye and then I’ll go cry somewhere else.”

“You’d better not fall apart on me,” Mulder says.  “I was counting on falling apart on you.”  They all smile a little.

“Right,” Will says. “Bye, then, Dana.  Bye, Mulder.”

“Goodbye, Will,” Dana says.  “Have a wonderful orientation.  We’ll talk to you really soon.”

“Knock ‘em dead out there,” Mulder says.  “Bye for now, then.”  Will sees them the three steps to the door and watches them down the hall before he closes it.  There are still a few minutes before he needs to head down to the orientation meeting, and he sits down experimentally on his new bed.

His phone rings, and he looks at it; it’s Emily.  He picks it up quickly.  “Hi,” he says.

“Hi, Will!” Emily says.  “I just wanted to check in.  How’s move-in going?  Are Mom and Dad still there?”

“They left,” he says. “Just a couple of minutes ago.”

“Oh,” Emily says. “Were they really emotional?” She’s probably trying to figure out if she should call them next to try to cheer them up.  She always does that kind of thing.

“A little,” he says. “Not too bad.”

“That’s good,” Emily says.  “How about you?  How are you doing?  Do you like it so far?”

“I guess so,” he says. “There hasn’t been that much to judge yet.  We moved in, and they gave us these bag lunches.  My room’s fine, though, and so far I like my roommate.  We have an orientation meeting pretty soon.”

“That sounds good,” Emily says.  “What other kinds of things are going on?”

He flips through the orientation booklet.  “There’s a barbecue tonight,” he says, “and a welcome ceremony, for all the freshmen. And then this week there are more meetings…campus tours…some things where you can go around Boston…”

“Are you excited?” Emily asks.

“Yeah,” he says. “I am.  I think it’s going to be good here.”

“Aww,” Emily says. “Listen to you, all grown up and living on your own.”

“You’re not that much older than me,” he points out.

“Well, you’re still my little brother,” Emily says.  “I remember when you were a baby.  I remember when you could barely even talk.”  Will can’t really argue with that point.  A lot has changed this year, but he’s still got someone around who heard his first sentences.  “Anyway,” she adds, “I’m glad you’re having a good time.  I miss you, you know.”

“Miss you too,” he says.  It isn’t complicated, saying these things to her.

“But I’ll see you pretty soon,” she says.  “At Thanksgiving.”

“Yeah,” he says. He thinks about Thanksgiving, wondering what it will be like.  Emily usually starts cooking at an hour when any reasonable person would still be asleep. He usually gets bribed into helping by a chance to taste the pies.  He doesn’t know what Mulder and Dana usually do.  He thinks it might be fun to find out.  “I should probably go, Emily,” he says.  “I have to get down to this meeting.”

“Of course,” Emily says.  “You have a great time, Will.  I’ll text you, okay?”

“Sure,” he says. “Bye, Emily.”

“Bye, Will.”

Before he heads down, he glances at the picture on Ben’s desk—it’s him with his parents and presumably his brother.  Will hasn’t put out any pictures, at least not yet.  He should probably think about that.

[celestialvoid-fanfiction]

Among the Exhibits - Sterek Museum AU

Derek Hale is the director of the Beacon Hills Museum and the local expert in the fields of anthropology, palaentology and archaeology. Stiles is the enthusiastic college student who visits the museum almost every other day, studying among the exhibits and looking for job openings. Derek dismisses him at first, but then one day, Stiles accidentally leaves his study notes at the museum and Derek finds then when he’s doing a final sweep of the museum. Curious about what Stiles is studying and why he’s so intent on being at the museum, he takes a look inside and finds a mix of notes from entomology to archaeology. All the notes are really in depth, colour coded and at a level of study that should be beyond a college student. He hates to admit it, but he’s impressed.

[x]

  Derek stared at his computer, watching the blinking curser that sat, unmoving, on the blank page. His mind was reeling with fragmented thoughts that he didn’t seem to be able to string together.

He slouched back in his chair, running his hand down his face.

He turned and looked out the clear windows of his office which overlooked the main lobby of the museum, a small fleet of stairs leading from his door and into a small alcove hidden behind the offices. Across the lobby, he could see the models of whales and schools of fish that were suspended from the ceiling and lit by the walls of windows. To the far side of the lobby, beyond the front desk, he could see the open doorway that led into the exhibits of dinosaurs, deep sea creatures, and entomology.

“Stuff it,” he muttered to himself, pushing back his chair and rising to his feet. He shrugged on his khaki bomber jacket and made his way out of the office. He pulled the door shut behind himself, pausing to look at the brass plate: Dr. Derek Hale. Director of Beacon Hills Museum.

He trudged down the stairs, smiling to patrons and briefly saying ‘Hello’ as he passed and made his way down to the museum café.

The barista already knew his order off by heart and began to make it before Derek had the chance to order. He fitted a lid onto the paper cup and passed it over the counter to Derek.

Derek thanked him, paid and began to make his way through the museum. He stepped over to the front desk, reaching over and snatching one of the chocolate chip cookies that Lydia kept hidden behind her desk.

Lydia shot a dirty glare at him.

Derek smiled back at her and bit into the biscuit. “How’s everything going down here?”

“Good,” Lydia replied. “We did have a lost child earlier today—she had walked off on her mum because she wanted to look at the dinosaurs. That issue was resolved quickly and aside from that and a couple of issues with group bookings for the Egyptian exhibit, nothing eventful has happened.”

Derek nodded thoughtfully. He turned to walk away when Lydia said, “Oh, and the guy—Stiles—was here a little while ago, asking if there’s any job openings.”

“There’s no job openings,” Derek said. “But if something comes up, I’ll let you know and he can apply like anyone else.”

Lydia shrugged and turned back to her work.

Derek turned and walked away, making his way towards the open doorway that led into the dinosaur exhibit. This is where his love for palaeontology and archaeology had begun; years ago, when his mother had brought him to the museum and he had stood beneath the towering skeletons of mighty beasts. He had looked upon them with such wonder and admiration that he knew then that he would grow up to uncover their secrets. And he had; he had gotten degrees in anthropology, palaeontology and archaeology. He had travelled the world uncovering the fossilised remains of dinosaurs and ancient ruins. He had been the adventurer he had dreamed of being as a child.

But that dream broke when he was called in to identify the victims of war, tragedies and natural disasters, he had pulled bodies from rubble and looked at the corpses of children. He had built relief centres and given identities to many of the bodies, but it was those he couldn’t identify that haunted him the most.

He drew himself back to reality, noticing the young man who sat on the floor, leaning back against the wall and writing something in a thick notebook. His satchel sat by his side, full of notebooks and scattered pieces of paper while a small pile of text books sat by his other side. His thick brown hair was a tousled mess and his dark brown eyes were intently focused on whatever it was he was writing. HIs lips quivered slightly as he uttered the words to himself.

He had seen him there before, many times. He was a college student who attended the campus over the road and came here almost every afternoon. He’s find an exhibit and sit down. Derek had always though that it was to study; trying to find a place where he wouldn’t be disturbed, but when the museum got busy and noisy, he didn’t move.

Derek had learned to ignore him.

Derek turned and walked away, making his way through to the hallway that led to the small outside garden with a pool of crystal-clear water. The rocky walls surrounding it were covered in trickling rivulets of water.

It was peaceful, serine.

Derek sat down on one of the benches and hung his head in his hands. He breathed in deeply, smelling the sweet water and the rich petrichor. He felt his shoulders drop and his tensions wash away as he listened to the soft sounds of running water.

After a while, he straightened his back and sipped at his coffee.

The fragmented thoughts returned, except this time he was able to string them together.

He pulled the small notepad out of his jacket pocket and made a quick note of his thoughts before pocketing the booklet and rising to his feet. He tossed the paper cup into the nearby recycling bin and made his way back through the museum.

Lydia would have made the announcement that the museum was closing by now, so Derek began his final sweeps, slightly disturbed by how quiet and lifeless the rooms were without patrons.

He made his way back past the dinosaurs, pausing when he caught sight of a small notebook that lay on the floor. He crouched down and picked it up.

The tattered cover had frayed around the edges and the gold text that read ‘NOTES’ had been worn away. Down the bottom was a scrawl of pen, a name: Stiles Stilinski.

Curiosity winning him over, he flipped open the cover and looked through the pages of notes; notes on entomology, archology, planetology, engineering, and everything in between. He didn’t seem to have a focus of study or a singular interest, but it wasn’t just simply writing things down to learn. Derek flipped through the pages that had been thumbed smooth, looking at the in-depth notes, annotated essays and critical papers, colour-coded notes and pages of highlighting.

The notes were at a level of study that was beyond a college student, and Derek hated to admit it, but he was impressed.

The notes from today were on the process of fossilisation and carbon dating. Slotted in between the pages was a printed journal article, one that Derek knew well; one that Derek had written.

Derek flipped through the few blank pages at the end of the book before spying the final page, a messy list of dissertation titles, plans and a printed biography of Derek from the Museum website.

Derek let out a weak chuckle, closing the notebook and making his way back up to his office. He dropped the tattered notebook on his desk and collected his laptop, a few books and papers and slid them into his satchel. He stepped toward the door and hesitated, glancing over his shoulder at Stiles’ notebook.

He stepped back over to his desk and picked it up, carefully sliding it into his bag before stepping over to the stairs, switching off the light and closing the door behind himself.

Lydia was waiting for him by the door. He locked everything up and walked her out to her car.

“You look… chipper,” Lydia remarked, smiling up at him.

Derek rolled his eyes.

“Come on,” Lydia urged, gently nudging Derek’s arm. “What is it?”

“Goodnight, Lydia,” Derek said, unable to hide his smile.

Lydia pouted, but let it drop. She got into her car and started the engine, reversing out of her parking spot and waving to Derek as she left.

Derek waved goodbye before getting into his own car.

      The museum was quiet, as it usually is at that time. The sunlight streamed in through the windows, bathing the open rooms in light.

Derek sat at his computer, glancing down at the small notebook he carried around and the notes he had jotted down yesterday. His nimble fingers, darted across the keyboard, the thin black letters filling out the pages as his mind began to clear.

There was a loud bang.

Derek bolted upright, rushing to his office door as he saw someone run towards the front desk. He could hear panicked screaming but couldn’t make out the words.

He grabbed Stiles’ tattered notebook and made his way downstairs.

“Please,” he heard a panicked voice beg. “I’m sure I left it here. Are you sure you haven’t found anything?”

Derek stepped around the corner to see Stiles bracing himself against the front desk, his shoulders heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

“That depends on what you’re looking for,” Derek interjected, his voice calm and steady as he looked at the rugged young man.

“One of my notebooks. It had notes for my essay that I’m writing but I dropped it when I was here yesterday—I’m sure I dropped it here,” Stiles stammered.

Derek held up the tattered old notebook. “Is this what you’re looking for?”

Relief washed over Stiles. “Yes.”

Derek held it out for him and Stiles took it, thanking him profusely.

The young man turned and started to make his way back towards the large glass doors when Derek’s voice stilled him, “Stiles.”

He turned around and looked at Derek.

“That’s some great work you’ve done there,” Derek complimented. He paused for a moment. “There aren’t any job openings currently, but if you’re still looking for a supervisor for your dissertation, I’d be happy to take you on.”

Stiles’ face lit up with a bright smile, his dark brown eyes sparkling like gold as he frantically nodded. “That… That would be fantastic… Thank you. Thank you, sir.”

“Derek,” he corrected politely. “Call me Derek.”

Stiles nodded. “Thank you, Derek.”

  AO3  --  Support Me Through PayPal

[journeyanddream]

The Finale

The anticipated feeling of liberation did not come after the cessation of section one. I sat motionlessly staring into blank complexion, trying to make sense of the havoc that was section one. I slowly melted into the seat and the table, deprived of energy and soul while waiting for the next section to begin. It was difficult to shift my mind, the lingering thought of failure and incompetence was heavy; I didn’t do bad but nor did I do well. 

I remember I was stuffed with the urge to empty my bladder and after signalling the invigilator, I was kindly declined twice. ‘When the announcement finishes, you can go’...it wasn’t true. After the announcement, there was no time to go and section had already started. Despite having emptied my bladder only two hours prior, it was now filled again...perhaps due to a combination of stress and caffeine. What could have lasted me six to seven hours usually only lasted two hours at that moment. There was no time to think. I pressed on and let my biological functions take a backseat. 

As I flipped open the booklet and examined the quotes, I brainstormed like I always did: with purpose and with passion. Until that point, I’ve written roughly sixty essays across roughly 3 months, not impressive but not an easy task to take on. Borrowing from past experiences, I engineered the paragraphs and ideas within the ten minutes: change and ambition. Ideas poured out my heads and gave life to my hands, jotting down phrases furiously, without a pause. Twenty minutes into the task, I was already finishing up conclusion; a task that I would look back with satisfaction. Task B was less well developed compared to its counter part, but nonetheless a good piece; although better ideas and sentence structures could be incorporated to make it more authentic, interesting and stand out more. One hour lapsed so quickly, it resembled more like 20 minutes. With the end of section two, marked half point of Gamsat. I knew I could have done alot better, but given what I had I was happy with the outcome: both section one and two. 

‘Section three is where we shine’. I said to my teammates during lunch, this is by far the most extensively prepared section by me, I’ve reached out to the best mentor and had the most well developed resources at my command - all summed up in four months of work. I was read, I felt good. If anything one of these sections would get me in, it would be this. ‘Even if we don’t believe in ourselves, we gotta trust David; for his effort had made profound changes in each one of us.’ I added. The anxiety that surrounded me in previous sections flew away and was no where to be found; the power of confidence; the power of belief. Always trust the process and believe the progress; we’ve done the miles and gave our all, it is time to deliver. Much like Connor Mcgregor has said ‘I am confident in my preparation, and cocky in prediction..but I will be humble in victory or defeat.’ I guess MMA and Medicine are not that different after all. 

I sat myself comfortably in that familiar table and chair, waiting for the finale of Gamsat to unfold. After a round of routine procedures, the reading time was going to begin: we had started 2:00pm sharp (a rare scene) and was projected to finish 5:00pm on the dot. We were instructed to open the booklet and begin reading time. I flipped through the pages as usual, cherry picking the ‘easy marks’ and establishing a mental map of the where about of question. However, I knew something was different, something was wrong within the first ten pages I had viewed. The questions were out of style, different and unfamiliar to those I had practiced. There were few physical chemistry questions if at all and I could count all the organic chemistry questions with one hand - this is bad. The questions deviated from scientific knowledge dramatically, all the information was contained in the passage, the questions bordered on scientific concepts and in reality they asked you other things. I was uneasy about this change, what I thought would be an easy section soon turned to something really ugly. I wasn’t struggling. But I was doing it with 100% confidence. None of the questions required the use of ‘double swap rule’, ‘numbering arbitrarily’ or ‘tricks of acid and bases’. In fact, they were mostly reading comprehension encased in the context of science, but the question itself it hardly science. Knowing more science might have proven to be a disadvantage for that particular test. I pushed through and tried to do everything I could without jeopardizing other questions. 

The three pass technique was key to my preparation: doing all chemistry questions first, then biology and at last physics. I was able to finish get through all the chemistry and 85% of biology intermingled with some physics. When it was ‘times up’, I had attempted 90~95 questions, and guessed the remaining 10~15. The fastest I have attempted to date. When I was up to the 70/110 questions mark, my forehead was studded with sweat, my vision begun to deteriorate and a tension in the brow-line is slowly intensifying over the past 2 hours. My head begun to spin, plus the background dizziness and headache, I felt exhausted (The usual feeling of wanting to throw up，as if in the middle of motion sickness). I felt drained and my concentration begun to wane as well. I shook my head and told myself to  move on: so close to the finish line, If i give up right now It would be deleterious for all I had done prior. We have to move on, we must keep going.  As I lifted my head to check the time towards the end, there was 10~15 minutes remaining; the ‘suit guy’ sitting next to me leaned back with his arms folded and test paper closed - resting. I channeled my energy into the paper once again, planning to spend 10 minutes to do a few more questions before calling it a day and guess the remaining questions with all Cs (I do not want to make the mistake of finishing the exam and not leaving enough time to guess the left overs). 

“Times up, hold up your answer sheet!’ The announcer’s loud voice shattered the three hour silence, while marking the END of Gamsat 2018. After the announcement, myriad of sounds were heard: some exhaled deeply, others collapsed onto their table, and the rest did a combination of both. The unanimous sigh or exhale was extremely memorable. End of Gamsat also meant the end of our journey; I could finally let go of the boulder that crushed me for months. Regardless of the outcome, all the pain made that momentary liberation that much sweeter. “This is the end, I’m done’ I thought to myself. Once again I melted into the seats, mind blank and unable to think or process information - my brain had taken the beating and endured the suffering, alongside me, this is the rest it long deserved. Even as I am writing this, the end of a Gamsat journey still felt surreal. It was 5:30 pm when we were let go, candidates stormed out the hall that had housed thousands of us since 7 am this morning. Many people remained in clusters and chatted to their friends, the usual ‘post-exam talk’. I was no different. As I walked with fellow candidates, I couldn’t help but to complain about how DIFFERENT this exam was and how the entire four months of preparation did not help at all (other than fatigue training). “We could honestly spend two weeks studying and this pull off similar results”, a friend remarked. “I could have had a life, xx wasn’t in it, yy wasn’t in it..”, another mate added. At that moment, I wasn’t sure if i was satisfied, content because it is over or if I was angry about how it had turned out, faced with the prospect of yet another Gamsat - another failure. 

I am usually correct about the outcome of an exam, based purely on how I ‘felt’. Like the anatomy spot test that I walked out knowing I had absolutely aced everything - which turned out to be 96%. Or the final exam of 2406, where I walked out with confidence and happiness - a unit where I would go on to achieve 93 average mark. But this...was different. It wasn’t the ‘I know i failed’ from previous Gamsat nor the ‘I know I aced it’ confidence; It was neither, It was something in between - a mediocre score. I felt cheated - four months of preparation put in vain. I felt unsatisfied and guilty - not been able to give my A-game, and the possibility of another year of preparation. Gamsat has left a void in my life, feeling lost and unmotivated to get back to normal life; what should I do?. I spent the entire week after Gamsat in a semi-depressed, unmotivated state; wrote a rant email to David and even spoke to him on the phone while I received an emotional support therapy.

I guess no one will know for sure until the weighted (scaled) mark is released. I do not have to be the best, I have to be better than the average to beat the bell curve and come out victorious. No one will ever know for sure. But regardless of the outcome, like Jack has said “We will be better versions of ourselves”, and that is most important. The truth is, I’ve learned alot, I’ve gained tremendous insight compared to last time and I’ve indeed become better versions of myself - we have to convince ourselves, it is the learning process that is most valuable, the outcome is only a secondary reflection of the work we’ve put in. If we can’t get where we want to be, it only means we’ve not done enough, failure is not a reflection of character but effort. I will NOT give up, I will NOT be defeated, I WILL stand up and fight once again, and I WILL DO IT, surely and eventually. 

Until next time - Keep calm and GAMSAT on 

[thorne93]

No Matter What (Part 3)

Prompt: Imagine you’re an Avenger and you meet Bucky for the first time during Civil War

Word Count: 2630

Warning: Language, fighting, violence, angst

Notes: This will follow Cap America: Civil War…. I envisioned a younger reader who’s like 19-24 years old, btw. Thanks to my beta @like-a-bag-of-potatoes

Forever Tags: @amarvelouswritings @cocosierra94 @essie1876 @magpiegirl80 @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @harleyquinnandscarletwitch @iamwarrenspeace @marvel-imagines-yes-please @superwholocked527 @myparadise1982sand @missinstantgratification @thejulesworld @rda1989 @marvelloushamilton @munlis  @bubblyanarocks3 @thefridgeismybestie @random-fluffy-pink-unicorn @hardcollectionworldtrash @igiveupicantthinkofausername @kaliforniacoastalteens @feelmyroarrrr

Sebastian Stan Tag: @nedthegay @lostinspace33 @alwayshave-faith @elleatrixlestrange @buenostardissherlock  @lenawiinchester @the-red-world-of-jess-chibi @memory-of-a-goldfish @mellsstark

Bucky Barnes: @nedthegay @lostinspace33 @alwayshave-faith @elleatrixlestrange @ultrarebelheart @lenawiinchester

No Matter What: @void-imaginations @devil-may-cry-11-blog @james-heaven-barnes @shifutheshihtzu

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was only a few weeks after the problems in Africa that Tony was coming to the compound. You had met him a few times and you loved his wit, his humor, his intelligence, but sometimes he gave off a very...cocky and arrogant vibe. But you still loved to be around him.

Steve was watching more footage and coverage of the accident, as was Wanda. He paused his to go check on her while you and Vision stood in the kitchen.

“Vis, you don’t blame Wanda, do you?” you asked suddenly as you played with an apple.

“I know she didn’t mean to hurt anyone with her actions, no,” he responded as Tony walked in with someone.

“Where’s capsicle?” he asked as he looked at you two.

“I will get Captain Rogers for you,” Vision responded.

“Thank you,” Tony noted. “Y/N, this is Secretary of State. Secretary Ross. Mr. Secretary this is y/F/N, our newest recruit.”

You choked on your spit as you realized who was standing in the room. Immediately you stood up straight, adjusted your hair, and shook his hand.

“Pleasure to meet you, sir,” you said.

“And you,” he responded with a grin.

Finally, Steve and Wanda and the rest of the team joined you, taking some of the heat off of you. The Secretary and Tony said they wanted to speak to all of you. You converged in the conference room and Secretary Ross began to talk.

“Five years ago... I had a heart attack. I dropped right in the middle of my backswing. Turned out it was the best round of my life, because after 13 hours of surgery and a triple bypass... I found something 40 years in the Army had never taught me: Perspective. The world owes the Avengers an unpayable debt. You have fought for us... protected us, risked your lives... but while a great many people see you as heroes, there are some... who would prefer the word ‘vigilantes’.”

Natasha asked, “And what word would you use, Mr. Secretary?”

“How about "dangerous"?” he retorted and you automatically blanched. How were you dangerous? You weren’t dangerous. Rumlow. Ultron. Double agents - they were dangerous. Not the Avengers. You were the only hope against the dangers. “What would you call a group of US-based, enhanced individuals... who routinely ignore sovereign borders... and inflict their will wherever they choose and who, frankly, seem unconcerned about what they leave behind?”

Again, your anger flared. You did care. All of you did. How could he say you didn’t seem concerned?

He shuffled through footage on the screen of different accounts where the Avengers had destroyed cities. Until Steve told him to turn it off.

“For the past four years you've operated with unlimited power and no supervision. That's an arrangement the governments of the world can no longer tolerate. But I think we have a solution,” Secretary Ross stated as he placed a thick booklet on the table. “The Sokovia Accords. Approved by 117 countries... it states that the Avengers shall no longer be a private organization. Instead, they'll operate under the supervision of a United Nations panel, only when and if that panel deems it necessary.”

You could feel yourself getting worked up. This was bullshit. Who had the right to just order you all around? The world owed you an unpayable debt yet they wanted to chain all of you and control you? That doesn’t add up. Either they trusted you to save their lives or they didn’t.

After a tense and quiet moment, Steve said, “The Avengers were formed to make the world a safer place. I feel we've done that.”

You nodded in agreement.

Ross demanded, “Tell me, Captain, do you know where Thor and Banner are right now? If I misplaced a couple of 30 megaton nukes... you can bet there'd be consequences.”

“Okay, wait, time out,” you said, holding your hand in the air. “We didn’t ‘misplace’ Thor and Dr. Banner. Thor went home, to Asgard. You get that, right? That Thor doesn’t live here. And the only times he has come here is to help us fight. Dr. Banner? He was out in the middle of nowhere before you all pulled him back in. He lived without any incidents for years, he can do it again. I read the file.”

“Be that as it may, the world no longer sees the Avengers as a team of heroes anymore. But there is a possible solution here. Compromise. Reassurance. That's how the world works. Believe me, this is the middle ground.”

“So, there are contingencies,” Rhodey confirmed.

Secretary Ross answered, “Three days from now, the UN meets in Vienna to ratify the Accords. Talk it over.”

Nat asked, “And if we come to a decision you don't like?”

“Then you retire.”

You sat back and bit your cheek to keep from going off. This was stupid. This was beyond idiotic.

All of you got up to sort your own thoughts, grab water, take a breather, go to the bathroom, then you regrouped in the living space.

Sam and Rhodey had started to talk and they were already getting into a heated debate.

“Secretary Ross has a Congressional Medal of Honor which is one more than you have,” Rhodey noted to Sam.

“So let's say we agree to this thing. How long is it gonna be before they LoJack us like a bunch of common criminals?” Sam asked.

“A 117 countries want to sign this. 117, Sam, and you're just like, ‘No, that's cool. We got it.’”

“Just because the whole world wants us to sign it doesn’t mean we should,” you argued. “Sam’s right. Where does it stop? So they control us, then what? Will we be tagged and numbered? What if they only let those without powers operate, so Vision, Wanda, and I are benched?”

“That’s not what would happen,” Rhodey argued.

“Oh yeah? Bet you thought SHIELD would never get compromised either,” you spat.

Vision suddenly spoke up, “I have an equation.”

Sam sarcastically remarked, “Oh, this will clear it up.”

“In the 8 years since Mr. Stark announced himself as Iron Man, the number of known enhanced persons has grown exponentially. And during the same period, the number of potentially world-ending events has risen at a commensurate rate.”

“Are you saying it's our fault?” Steve questioned, a little bit of defense coming into his voice.

“I'm saying there may be a causality. Our very strength invites challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict... breeds catastrophe. Oversight... Oversight is not an idea that can be dismissed out of hand.”

“Boom,” Rhodey said as if that just put an end to all discussion.

“What?” you challenged. “Vision, I get what you’re saying. I’m not arguing that by us existing it makes anything better. But do you honestly think that if we all retired or if we all were never even born, that we wouldn’t have the same problems? Loki? He would’ve still come to rule Earth. Rumlow would still be an evil dick. So taking us out of the equation or putting chains on us won’t make anything better.”

“Tony. You're being uncharacteristically non-hyperverbal,” Nat noted after your rant.

Steve informed, “It's because he's already made up his mind.”

Tony got up as he said, “Boy, you know me so well. Actually, I'm nursing an electromagnetic headache. That's what's going on, Cap. It's just pain. It's discomfort. Who's putting coffee grounds in the disposal? Am I running a bed and breakfast for a biker gang?” Tony put his phone on the counter and flipped up an image.  “Oh, that's Charles Spencer by the way. He's a great kid. Computer engineering degree, 3.6 GPA. Had a floor level gig at Intel planned for the fall. But first, he wanted to put a few miles on his soul... before he parked it behind a desk. See the world. Maybe be of service. Charlie didn't want to go to Vegas or Fort Lauderdale, which is what I would do. He didn't go to Paris or Amsterdam, which sounds fun. He decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the poor. Guess where, Sokovia.” For a moment, everyone was quiet in thought as they listened to him. “He wanted to make a difference, I suppose. I mean, we won't know because we dropped a building on him while we were kicking ass. There's no decision-making process here. We need to be put in check! Whatever form that takes, I'm game. If we can't accept limitations, if we're boundary-less, we're no better than the bad guys.”

Steve said, “Tony, someone dies on your watch, you don't give up.”

“Who said we're giving up?”

“We are if we're not taking responsibility for our actions. This document just shifts the blames.”

“I'm sorry. Steve. That... That is dangerously arrogant,” Rhodey argued

“Arrogant? Arrogant?” you mocked, furious. “How is it arrogant to say that we need to own up for our own shit? If we fuck up, it’s on us. How is stating that the UN takes blame or responsibility any better?”

“Because, Y/N, this is the United Nations we're talking about. It's not the World Security Council, it's not SHIELD, it's not HYDRA.”

“I don’t give a fuck if it’s the Keebler Elves,” you argued. “It’s still people. People that can be corrupt. People that will start war. What if one country needs us and we can’t go because the 116 countries say no? What if one country doesn’t want our help but the other’s think we should go and we walk into a god damn fire fight?”

“Y/N’s right,” Steve said. “It’s run by people and people with agendas and agendas change.”

“That's good. That's why I'm here. When I realized what my weapons were capable of in the wrong hands, I shut it down and stop manufacturing,” Tony added.

“Tony, you chose to do that. If we sign this, we surrender our right to choose. Just like Y/N said. What if this panel sends us somewhere we don't think we should go? What if there is somewhere we need to go, and they don't let us? We may not be perfect, but the safest hands are still our own.”

You nodded to him, proud and happy that he took your side and backed you up.

“If we don't do this now, it's gonna be done to us later. That's the fact. That won't be pretty,” Tony said and you let that sink in. Maybe he was right. Maybe it would be better to go quietly now than it would be later with a fight. But it still didn’t feel right getting strong armed into this.

“You’re saying they’ll come for me,” Wanda said.

“We would protect you,” Vision assured.

Nat concurred, “Maybe Tony's right. If we have one hand on the wheel, we can still steer. If we take it off…”

Sam demanded, “Aren't you the same woman who told the government to kiss her ass a few years ago?”

“I'm just... reading the terrain. We have made some very public mistakes. We need to win their trust back.”

You realized she was right. You knew how this would look to the outside world. That the Avengers didn’t want to be controlled. What are they so afraid of? You could hear and see the headlines now. But what did they know? They weren’t the ones risking their lives. The ones saying “Yes, go ahead and shackle us like criminals”. It wasn’t the whole picture. It wasn’t just about saying no, it was about the fact that you all were losing a right.

“Focus up. I'm sorry, did I just mishear you or did you agree with me?” Tony asked.

“Oh, I want to take it back now,” Nat said, shaking her head.

“No, no, no. You can't retract it. Thank you. Unprecedented. Okay, case closed - I win.”

“No, Tony, not case closed,” you argued, getting so frustrated it was hurting your head. “How is it any better if the UN is in control of us? What? Are we just going to be extra careful not to kill people? How is this any better?” you asked. You could not fathom how giving the UN control over you all made anyone any more safer than they were. How Nat and Tony and the rest of them didn’t see that was beyond your comprehension.

“I have to go,” Steve suddenly said as he tossed the Accords onto the table and headed downstairs. All of you looked around the room at each other with confused looks.

“I, uh, I’ll go check on him,” you said as you got up and followed him. you saw him leaning against the bottom of the stair rail, his head bowed as his hand hid his face. “Steve?” you gently said. “You okay?”

He looked up at you, his eyes glassy. “It’s Peggy,” he answered.

Instantly, you knew. You’d only known everyone on the team for a year, but you had a way of reading people. Besides,  you and Steve were best friends.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry, Steve.” You immediately pulled him into a hug, his massive form overtaking yours as he gripped you and you heard and felt him start to cry. You held him a long time, rubbing your arms on his back soothingly as he gripped you tight. You weren’t going to quiet him, tell him it would be okay. You knew that sort of pain and you knew the generic shit never consoled anyone, so you didn’t say anything.

After a few minutes, he said he wanted to be alone in his room. You nodded and said you would tell the others.

You came back upstairs and everyone looked to you for an answer as to why Steve left abruptly.

“Peggy passed away,” you informed.

A murmurs of shocks, gasps, and soft curses floated around the room at the tragic news.

“Talk about timing,” Sam said.

After that, everyone went around the room, signing the Accords if they so chose. The only people left were you, Sam, Wanda, and Steve.

“I can’t sign that. Not unless Steve does,” you informed emphatically.

“Jesus Christ, kid. He isn’t your father,” Tony barked. “You don’t have to say and do everything he does.”

You flinched at his anger. “It’s not like that. I just don’t feel right signing something he doesn’t agree with. He’s been around longer than all of us. He’s wiser. If he feels it’s not right in his heart to sign this, then I gotta back that up. He would do the same for me.”

“I can’t believe this. This is unbelievable,” Tony said, clearly angry. “I don’t have time for this. Nat, Vision, work on the rest of them,” Tony ordered before he left.

“Y/N,” Nat started, looking at you.

“No, Nat. I’m not fucking signing that thing,” you insisted. “If they want to come for us, fine. Let them. It will show the world who the real danger is, the real threat.”

You got up and went downstairs to Steve’s room.

“Hey,” you said softly as you entered. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to bother you. I just wanted to see if you needed anything or anyone?”

He looked up from his bed where he was staring at his phone. He gave you a gentle half smile. “You could never bother me, Y/N. I’m okay though,” he informed.

“You sure?”

“Well...I knew this would come,” he said. “It’s not like she was going to be around forever.”

You gave a slight nod as you stepped farther into the room. “Do you want someone to come with you to the services?” you asked.

After a moment of thought, he answered, “Yeah. I think I’d appreciate that.”

You nodded and smiled. “Anything for you. I’ll see if Sam wants to come and we’ll join you,” you informed in a soothing tone.

“You’re too good to me,” Steve said with a small laugh.

“I only repay the kindness you continue to show me,” you informed with a shrug. “I can never repay you for what you’ve done for me, Steve. the least I can do is be with you in your time of need.”