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platypanthewriter · 3 years

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Guess Again

Day Four of Harringrove AUgust, Profession AU! Steve runs into a hot guy named Billy on his plane flight back to Indianapolis, and Billy lies about what he does for a living, then, laughing, admits he lied. The prize for this guessing game: an exchange of phone numbers.

Steve found his seat, in coach, because that was the only seat available on the overbooked flight into Indianapolis a week before Thanksgiving. He shoved his carry-on under the seat, and wedged himself in the limited leg room, opening his laptop to answer the emails that had been pinging his phone before the plane was ready to take off, and he—blessedly—had to go into airplane mode.

He barely even noticed the guy wedging himself in to sit by the window, and trying to get the damn table to stay up. Steve typed away as the busted table mechanism flapped onto the guy’s lap over and over. Finally, Steve grimaced, glancing over. “You can use my table,” he offered, registering only that the guy was tattooed, and kinda...hot. “I’ll put this away as soon as we taxi to the runway.”

“It’s fine,” the dude said, smacking the floppy table with a sigh. “Not like there’s a meal on this flight.”

“You can lean in and share my pretzels,” Steve told him, grinning over, and was met with big, long-lashed blue eyes, an annoying mustache, and curls that curved around an attractively firm jaw.

The guy nodded, and put the broken table away. “...kind of a workaholic?” he asked, probably because it was nearly ten o’clock at night, and Steve was glaring at his screen and typing emails like his survival depended on a high word count.

He snorted a laugh. “I left them all until now,” he said, grimacing. “They really don’t need my input, but if I replied earlier, they’d just ask me something else. Something they could google.” He narrowed his eyes at an email from a coworker who’d actually emailed to ask for exact details of what was allowed under the sexual harassment policy. Talk to HR, he sent back. Creep, he thought. He finished the last of the replies, hoping he wasn’t sending anything too weird in his distraction, and closed his laptop. “Um. Sorry. What do you do?”

“I sell life insurance,” the guy said immediately, with a toothy grin. “I’ll sell you so much insurance on this flight.”

“Uh,” Steve said, blinking at him. “Umm...oh.”

“That’s a lie,” was the dude’s followup, and Steve stared at him, starting to regret his offer to share a table, or catch the flight at all. “I don’t sell life insurance, I swear. I promise,” the guy said, laughing. “God, your face. I just...my job is...I started telling people I sell life insurance, so they wouldn’t talk to me.”

“I can just sit over here,” Steve offered, pretending to zip his lips.

“No, no, it’s, uh. Sorry I lied. Talk to me, it’s a long flight.”

“Why do you have to lie?” Steve had to ask, and the guy grimaced.

“My job’s kinda awkward,” he said, laughing.

“Are you a...porn star?” Steve asked, trying to figure out what kind of job would get the worst people to talk to you, and the dude cracked up.

“Jesus, no, but thanks for the ego boost,” he said, and Steve snorted a laugh.

“Um. What about…” Steve thought, opened his mouth, and then closed it. “Can I guess?” he asked, grinning, and the guy snickered.

“Sure. Give it your best shot. Just don’t tell me any horror stories.”

“Do you embalm bodies?” Steve tried, already holding back a tide of questions, like did you ever drop one and have to fix a broken nose.

“Nope!” said the guy, turning to lean more against the window, to face Steve. “How many tries do you want before I just tell you?”

“Oh, no, no, lemme guess,” Steve said, thinking as they came around asking for drink orders. “Horror stories...um. Are you a soldier?” he asked, wide-eyed, and the guy laughed again.

“No! No, nothing like that.” He leaned to see Steve’s ID as Steve pulled it out to order a beer, and Steve grinned.

“I’m Steve.”

“Billy,” said his mysteriously-employed seatmate, offering his hand, and Steve flipped it over investigatively.

“You don’t have those, like, love/hate knuckle tattoos,” he said, feeling like a detective. “So...maybe not a biker?”

“I’m not a biker,” Billy snickered. His hand was warm in Steve’s. “Is that even a job?”

“Oh! Oh!” Steve leaned forward, sure he had it this time, and Billy moved the armrest between them out of the way. “A writer?”

“What?!” Billy laughed, which probably meant Steve was wrong, but he argued his point.

“People tell you horror stories,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “So—so probably everybody tells you they have a great idea for your next novel—”

“No, uh. One clue,” Billy said, grimacing. “They’re true stories.”

“True stories,” Steve said, going to cross his arms in thought, and realizing Billy hadn’t taken his hand back. “Uh, what do I get if I guess right?” he asked, squeezing Billy’s hand, and Billy snorted a laugh, grinning like he couldn’t quite believe what was happening.

“I dunno, I feel like Rumpelstilzkin, you want like my firstborn or—”

“No, nope,” Steve made a face. “I got enough kids around, thanks. Oh—” he blinked, realizing how that sounded as Billy started to pull his hand back, and lean away, “—not, like, I’m not a dad, I don’t have a wife and kids or anything. I just have some little shitheads that come over all the time and eat all my popsicles and pizza.”

“Oh good,” Billy said dryly. “I’d feel terrible if holding my hand ruined your marriage.”

“No other knuckles can fulfill me, now,” Steve said soulfully, and then when Billy burst out laughing, Steve couldn’t hold a straight face.

“You know how fucking dirty that sounds, right,” Billy whispered, rubbing his face with the hand Steve wasn’t holding, and Steve snorted a laugh.

“Don’t worry, I’m not trying to get you to fist me on the plane,” he hissed back.

“Coward,” Billy shot back, and then they started giggling again, like they were ten.

“True horror stories,” Steve repeated, later, as they leaned together over the napkin on his tiny airplane table, where he was keeping track of the guesses he’d already made. “True horror stories. Are you a reporter?”

“God no,” Billy said, making a face. “Imagine this many tattoos in front of the news cameras? We’ve got a ways to go before they allow that.”

“Oh, true,” Steve nodded. “I mean, unless you worked for, like, a tabloid. Circling everyone’s stomach in pictures and writing ‘BABY BUMP?!’ on it.”

Billy jumped when Steve yelled ‘BABY BUMP’, and half the plane twitched and mumbled. “Fuck no!” he hissed, laughing. “Ssh!”

“Huh,” Steve said, studying the napkin. “Oh! Um,” he grimaced. “Police officer?”

“No,” Billy growled, and Steve nodded, writing that down and crossing it out, and sipping his third beer. “We never worked out what you got if you guessed,” Billy said, watching.

“Oh, yeah,” Steve agreed, nodding. “Uh, what about...dinner?”

“We’re gonna land at like six in the morning,” Billy pointed out, and Steve fingergunned him.

“Breakfast.”

Billy laughed. “I dunno if I’m willing to put out on our first plane trip together.”

“Lemme get you, like, bacon and eggs,” Steve said, leaning in and waggling his eyebrows, “—and my phone number.” He smirked as Billy cackled, leaning his head in the window.

“Yeah, okay. Gimme some breakfast sausage, Steve,” he said softly, the overhead reading light making his curls glow a little, like a halo.

“Now I haveta figure it out,” Steve said, frowning at his list, and Billy’s fingers twitched towards him. Steve grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together, and accepted another beer from the flight attendant. “I wonder how many beers that is,” he said, prodding at the label with his thumbnail. “I think they’re like ten bucks a pop.”

“I bet the alcohol will really help you think,” Billy said dryly, and Steve made a face at him.

“Shut up, I got it. I got it this time,” he said, tipping his head back for a long, satisfying drink of beer, and wiping his mouth. Billy’s mouth hung a little open when he finished, and Steve licked his lips, grinning. “You—you’re a doctor. A—a doctor of butts. A butt-doctor.”

Billy started laughing so hard, silently, that Steve was starting to wonder whether he could breathe.

“I’m right, right?” Steve said, taking a triumphant swig, and Billy shook his head, wheezing for air.

“You mean a proctologist?!” he gasped.

“Yeah, and you understood fine,” Steve told him, annoyed.

“I’m not—I’m not a butt doctor,” Billy choked out, tears of laughter in his eyes. “I don’t have a doctorate in ass—”

“Your loss,” Steve muttered, glaring at the napkin with the list. “Man, my cousin is one, and he has some stories. Dude, that’s everything, that’s every damn job. Ever. Do zookeepers get told horror stories?! Oh!” He pointed the beer bottle at Billy. “Dentist!”

“No,” Billy giggled, his hair rising with static in the dry air of the plane, and sticking to the wall and window behind him. He looked ruffled and fond, and Steve squeezed his hand again, trying to think of what he’d missed, before the plane landed, and he’d spent the entire flight guessing jobs, and Billy hadn’t even given him a last name.

“Shit,” Steve said, then straightened again. “No, okay, this time,” he said, the beer making his words a little soft around the edges, “This time I really have it. You’re a Mickey Mouse person.”

“I’m a what now,” Billy said, still snickering.

“You know,” Steve said, his eyes narrowed. “You crawl up the ass of one of those suits and let kids think you’re a Disney princess.”

“No, Harrington,” Billy said, breathlessly, as he shook with laughter. “No, I do not. Do people tell mascots horror stories?! I don’t even want to know. Which princess? Just for scientific curiosity, Steve, which princess do I crawl up the ass of, in your brain?”

Steve tried to remember them all. “Not Jasmine,” he said with certainty. “Um. Wait, Peter Pan? Maybe?”

“Peter Pan’s not a princess,” Billy choked out, wiping his eyes as he tried to muffle his laughter.

“Hrm,” Steve said, accepting another beer and huffing a sigh, but Billy leaned in suddenly and just kissed him. His lips were warm and chapped, and Steve hummed happily against them. Their teeth bumped, a little, because Billy was giggling so hard, and Steve was grinning so wide his cheek muscles ached.

“I’m a drug and alcohol counselor,” Billy said with a grimace, and Steve glared at his beer, betrayed, "—so, um, horror stories. Yeah."

"I just have butt-doctor horror stories," Steve said quickly, trying to salvage the situation, and he shoved his beer behind him.

Billy laughed harder, shaking his head. "I’ll still take that number,” he whispered, kissing Steve again—and snickering, his cheeks flushed. “And breakfast?”

Here’s my other Harringrove stuff! Or check out the Harringrove AUgust collection on Ao3! Add something! =D

#Harringrove AUgust #Harringrove #Profession AU #Meet-cute #Fluff and banter

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twistedsinews · 3 years

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Like Rabbits Seeking Buried Treasure Under the Moonlight

Cyberpunk 2077; Jackie/V, T-Bug, assorted others; PG-13 (AO3 Flavor)

“...point being, I think we deserve a bonus.”

The woman in the swank suit stared at her, an icy fury boiling her eyes.

“But, hey,” V remarked, the shard dangling between her fingertips, “if you don’t wanna comp us what it’s worth, we can always put it back and you can find another team willing and capable not only to take on a corp but also work outside of a fixer.”

Expression still fixed in a scowl, Lavigne glanced off. Then she turned back to the table, credit chip pinched between her thumb and forefinger. She placed it flat, and slid it across the table.

V nudged Jackie. He tore his attention away from the dancefloor below, and reached for the chip over V’s shoulder to give it a scan.

“Looks clean,” he told V.

“Of course it’s clean.” Lavigne huffed. Rising from her seat, she leaned forward to snatch the shard from V, who amicably let it slip away and brushed her thumb against her fingertips instead. “I never want to hear from you again.”

“Feeling’s mutual,” V told her quietly, as the woman faded into the crowd without a backward word.

Behind her, Jackie started to snigger. Smirking, V raised her hand and he clasped it tightly; she squeezed back before letting go. Her head lolled back against the chair, and she smiled at him before rolling to her feet.

The night was young, and they’d just gotten paid overtime.

“How the hell do you do that, anyway?” Jackie asked, as they made their way down from the balcony.

“Do what?”

“Put ideas into peoples’ heads without even saying ‘em. You had her thinking exactly what you wanted her to think.”

“I told the truth; it was her own goddamn paranoia did her in.”

“Fuck, how’d you know she’d think it was worth extra?”

“Educated guess. She was willing to go outside of a fixer to get it. And she was so worried that I’d read it she didn’t even think of you as anything but dumb hustle. Just ‘cause someone can make it in the corpo life doesn’t make ‘em any less of a gonk.”

“...you ever do that to me?”

At the bottom stair, V paused to look up at him. “Huh?”

“You know – make me think shit that’s not true.”

Staring down at her, Jackie wasn’t even offended by the notion.

Just openly curious.

V thought about it, and shrugged. “Can’t remember a time I ever needed to.”

Jackie snorted.

“What?” V scoffed. “That was a no.”

“Mhhm,” Jackie intoned.

He reached for her hand, and his fingers tangled with hers as he took the lead.

Dancing in Night City was nothing like in the badlands, V had learned early on. Even different districts, different clubs could have their own unique flair. Melding them together gave her a distinct style all her own, that shifted and changed with the mood and the music.

Jackie wasn’t quite as fluid in style, but nevertheless he improvised as best as he could and kept up with her all the same. They shared a kind of synchronicity that transferred smoothly from the battlefield to the dance floor.

A woman drifted along the far wall, circling inward as she watched them. As the night wore on, she moved right into V’s orbit.

It was almost too subtle to be called a dance, the way they circled one another on the floor. The woman moved with a refined kind of elegance, her cream-colored dress splashed with the colorful lights of the club. V found herself entranced by the pale glow of the strangers eyes.

And when Jackie got too close, the stranger stared at him icily.

Taken aback, he offered the woman a nod of understanding and a repentant smile. Meeting V’s eyes, he stepped away.

Just because they had an arrangement, didn’t make them exclusive; just because they shared didn’t mean every hookup worked out that way.

They ended up along the dark edge of the room. Pushed up against the wall, V found the peculiar glow of the woman’s eyes seemed even brighter, with the light of the bar shining like a halo behind her. Her own eyes slid closed, she tilted her face lower...

And then...

What she’d been expecting to happen, didn’t.

V blinked, at a loss, as the stranger stared at her, equally so.

Then, the woman simply turned to walk away.

V reached for her, and the woman shrugged her off. She cast a cold, blank stare over her shoulder, to which V raised her hands in a gesture of amicable peace.

The stranger slipped off into the crowd.

V cut her own path, her focus shifting back towards the dance floor, and the beating heart of the bar. There was plenty of delight left to be had, but the strangeness of the encounter, never mind the sting of the rebuff, left her feeling distant.

Instead, she made her way towards the outer landing, following the Exit sign. From there, she cast a perfunctory scan of the room.

At last, she caught sight of Jackie at the bar, a woman on either arm, each as different, at a cursory glance, as night and day, but complementing one another to a glitz perfection. He was splitting his attention between them, for all that Jackie had made himself the center of theirs; V couldn’t be sure what subject they might’ve been on, but he was energetic in telling some story or a joke while they hung off his every word in rapt attention.

With a soft sigh, V glanced away.

When she looked again, Jackie was staring right at her, vibrant expression faded.

Managing a faint smile, she held up a hand in a lackadaisical wave, meant to impart: Goodnight. Good luck. ‘Til tomorrow.

Jackie stared a moment longer, an inscrutable expression on his face as he watched her across the room, before seeming to remember he had company. He turned his mind back to them, twice as lively as before.

V tore herself away as he was kissing the brighter one’s hand.

Stepping out of the warm embrace of the bar and onto the chill night street, she breathed out a long, measured breath. Holograms and billboards cast bright shadows over the world, blotting out both the darkness and the moonlight, and despite the hour there were still a colorful assortment of people going about their business – legitimate and not.

With no destination in mind, V started down the street.

She’d only made it past a few buildings when a message flickered at the edge of her display, demanding attention.

Hold up.

Lifting her head, V blinked, and glanced behind her to find Jackie jogging to catch up. She waited for him, and only starting walking again once he’d fallen into step beside her. Quietly, at first, but when she didn’t say anything at first, he opted to fill the silence.

“After all that, didn’t work out, huh?”

V shrugged.

“Too bad. She’d been watching you the entire time we were negotiating with Lavigne, you know?”

“Since we walked in. But... hey, maybe all she wanted was a dance.” Not wanting to dwell on it, she veered onto a convergent path, “Anyway, why’d you split? Looked like you were having all the luck tonight.”

“Tch.” Jackie nudged her shoulder with his own. “Really, V, what kinda guy’d I be if I got off with twice the good fortune and let a choom walk home all by her lonesome?”

“‘Sides,” he added, “this is nearer my neighborhood, you may as well drop in.”

They walked along in comfortable silence. V’s gaze was drawn to Jackie as he moved with a confident, capable ease, though he was nevertheless weighing up every thin shadow between the buildings they passed.

Her eyes flicked lower, and her fingers brushed his hand.

All at once he was staring at her, a warm curiosity in his expression.

Casually, V glanced off.

As though the shadows between the buildings were that much more interesting than the warmth radiating from his hand, so close to hers. Movement caught in the corner of her eye, and her gaze drifted that way.

Jackie slipped away from her as her pace slowed, and he paused to turn back.

V’s sneakers scuffed the sidewalk as she stopped and blinked.

“Are rabbits common in Night City?”

“Not... that I know of. Why?”

V stared at the white little bunny rabbit, eating lettuce without a care in the goddamn world. Jackie stared at her like she'd lost her mind, or maybe dropped a tab of something she shouldn't have. “Nothing; no big deal.”

It was a bit of an absurd question. But when she looked again, the rabbit was cleaning its face, a pace or two from where it had been a moment ago. V took a step towards it, and it nonchalantly hopped away from her.

With a backwards glance at Jackie – who was still staring at her, at a loss – she took another step, and the rabbit stretched and pulled itself forward.

“You’re really not seeing this?”

With every cautious step V took behind it, the rabbit continued its leisurely way down the alley. Always, it seemed, the same distance away.

Still – she didn’t want to spook it and send it running.

Halfway down to a dead end, the rabbit turned towards the brick wall. The last V saw of it was a flash of its fluffy tail as it wriggled and vanished into the dark. Nearing where it had disappeared, she crouched down; at the base of the wall, bricks had been broken and removed, or had perhaps more simply fallen apart, and she found herself peering into a jagged hole close to the ground.

She couldn’t see into it, and scanning it turned up nothing. And so, without a second thought, V reached down into it.

“What’d you find?” Jackie asked.

V blinked up at him; he’d followed her step for step, even if he hadn’t seen the rabbit. But all she could do was shake her head.

She had no idea what it was.

Rather than soft, warm fur, her fingers found roughened, cold canvas – an old, faded military jacket stuffed in the gap. It was weighed down, and as V pulled it loose from its hiding place, the cloth unraveled around an older-style cyberdeck, at a glance not unlike the antique model she’d had to trade in when hers had stopped working.

But it was in good condition – better than hers had been. Finding its wire, she shrugged up at Jackie, and plugged it in.

A display booted across her lens, but all she could make of it endless stream of garbled data.

“It’s encrypted,” she told Jackie.

“Ah,” she winced, as her further poking around provoked a cautionary counter-spike. “Really, really encrypted.”

Tugging the wire free of her port, V handed the deck up before moving on to check the pockets of the jacket, and came up with an unlabeled shard. Slotting it gave her a momentary sense of... something as it connected and powered on, but... there was nothing on it. Nothing at all.

There was nothing else in the stash, and no sign of the rabbit at all.

Pushing up to her feet, V met Jackie’s inquisitive stare.

He flipped the deck over in his hands, and offered it back to her. Taking it, she wrapped it back up in the jacket.

“Maybe that’s enough mystery for tonight?” Jackie reasoned out loud, as V cast about the alley for anything that would give them any sort of a clue. “Already been a long day.”

V opened her mouth, but she couldn’t argue.

Not when Jackie brushed his fingers down the traces adorning her cheek. Particularly not when he brushed his thumb across her lip, and not in the least when he followed it with his mouth.

~*~

There was a squeak in the third stair from the top she hadn’t kept in mind. By some stroke of luck, it didn’t give her away as she padded down to the family room.

Jackie was sprawled on the couch, thumb pressed to his cheek and a contemplative pout on his lips as he stared off into space.

Stepping lightly, V edged around the sharp angles of the table. Her fingers slid over Jackie’s shoulder for balance as she helped herself to his lap; he roused with a soft groan, turning his head blindly towards her as his hands first skimmed her hips, then slid behind her, and his arms settled about her waist. Jackie blinked twice, the glimmer across his lens fading, only for his eyes to flutter shut as V sought his mouth with her own for a languid, unhurried kiss.

Jackie shifted beneath her, allowing her to settle more firmly against him and drawing a croon of appreciation from her throat.

The kiss broke, and V immediately claimed another – softer, shallower, but no less sweet – before they drifted apart. Opening her eyes, she found herself lost in his, and absently traced her fingers up his neck, her thumb brushing lightly over the mismatched texture of metal and skin behind his ear.

Jackie breathed in deep, and sighed a gentle little, “Oh.”

“Mmm,” V agreed. “Mornin’.”

“Afternoon, more like. You slept half the day away.”

“Mmm? What’re you reading? Anything interesting?”

“Sure.” Jackie shrugged, thinking to add, “If you enjoy poetry.”

“Frost?”

“Blake.”

“Huh.”

Pulling her lip between her teeth, V tangled her fingers in the hem of his shirt, giving it a gentle tug to free it from being tucked. Jackie chuckled, catching one of her hands to stop her from fussing with his belt, and braced her with his other arm as he sat up straighter.

“Alright, how about,” he suggested, with a soft kiss to the heel of her palm to sweeten the deal, “I go and I make you breakfast ‘fore we go and we get started on dessert, hmm?”

With his arm still around her, V held on as he stood, and dropped gracefully to her feet to pad after him as he made his way into the kitchen.

The kitchen was kept, clean, and stocked as it always was. V watched with rapt attention as Jackie dug out and set to work on a selection of fresh vegetables – how Señora managed that feat, V felt she would never know – and tofu protein.

Jackie glanced her way but didn’t admonish her when she stole a slice of toast from a half-built plate, and nibbling kept V occupied long enough for him to finish. She followed him right back out to the family room, where he set the food down on the table for her.

Almost burning her mouth on the first bite, V hissed sharply, and Jackie paused on his way back to the kitchen.

“Jesús, V,” he chuckled. “Give it a moment to cool, yeah?”

She picked away at it, blowing on bites even while it was almost too hot, and he was back again soon enough – a soy drink in one hand and a bottle capped with a shotglass in the other. Seating himself beside her, Jackie slid the first her way, keeping the latter for himself.

Realizing the discrepancy, V blinked.

“You’re not having any?”

“Already ate, chica.”

She jabbed a forkful towards him. “You want some?”

“Nope,” he assured her. “All for you.”

Shoving the food into her mouth, V murmured something around it that might’ve been intended as a word. Jackie smirked at her, pouring himself a shot of tequila.

“So... uh... this thing with seeing rabbits...”

“It was one rabbit.” V stabbed a cube of fried potato. “Maybe I was drunk.”

“Didn’t see you touch a drop last night; how drunk could you have gotten?”

“Maybe I was high.”

“And were you high, V?”

“...no.” V pushed food around on her plate before taking another bite. “Maybe it was just a rabbit.”

“In Night City?” Jackie sighed. “Just thinkin’ out loud here, but maybe it’s time you oughta drop in on Vik. Make sure everything’s workin’ as it should be.”

She stilled, staring at him.

Then swallowed.

“Yeah... maybe,” she assented. “After dessert, though.”

Jackie paused, with the glass barely having tipped towards his mouth.

“Claro que sí,” he acquiesced.

~*~

“Hmm.”

Fidgeting on his table, V rolled her head towards him. Vik had just gotten done telling her how unlikely a problem seemed, and now it was Hmm?

He glanced over at her, then back to his display, and shook his head.

“There’s some garbled data in your system.”

“Meaning...?”

“I’m not sure. Doesn’t look like it could be much of anything.”

Her eyebrows drew together as V stared at him.

“Think in terms of script at its most basic. Binary. Ones and zeros. It looks like some of the zeros got flipped to ones, but at complete random. No pattern behind it. There’s not even enough of it to make anything – a few bytes at most. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“So it’s... not a virus or some daemon that put it there, it’s just... a glitch?”

“There’s nothing else in your software or your hardware. Everything came back running as it should be.” Viktor’s mouth pulled into a frown as he thought about it, “It might indicate your cyberdeck is starting to deteriorate, but the odds on that are long. Militech makes good hardware, and this deck is still practically new.”

“Yeah, and I still got a warranty, right?”

His expression softened, and Vik didn’t quite smile at the joke.

“I could delete it for you? See if it comes back?”

“I could delete it myself, if it turns out to be nothing. Now that I know it’s there.”

“You sure?”

“I kinda wanna know what it is. What it means... if anything.”

Vik conceded with a subtle nod. V reached to pull her link cable free, and he shut down his display. He slid his hand behind her back to support her as she started to sit up.

“If I had to guess, I’d say what it means is be more careful when jacking into random, unmarked terminals.”

She had one foot on the ground, and his hand lingered on her arm as she met his stare, head cocked.

“What about that cyberdeck I found?”

“It’s encrypted. Whatever’s on it, I don’t have the means to decrypt it. Best I could do is reset it for you. It’s in good shape, I’m sure I could get it working like new, but anything on it – if it’s anything of value – would be gone.”

“And the rabbit...?”

Vik shrugged.

“Maybe you saw a rabbit.”

“That Jackie didn’t. And that led me right to the deck and then disappeared.”

“It’s not impossible.”

“Sounds a little like Alice in Wonderland.”

V blinked.

Vik’s eyebrows raised.

Both of them glanced at Misty, who draped herself over the arm of Vik’s table and flicked her eyes between them.

“By Lewis Carroll? Jackie has a copy.” She thought about it, leaning her cheek against her hand, and added, “Or he used to. He let me borrow it once.”

Thinking on it a moment longer, V sighed deeply, then turned her attention back to Vik.

“What do I owe you?”

“Peace of mind,” Vik replied. “But scans are always free.”

~*~

“Misty usually knows what she’s talking about,” Jackie told her.

They sat at a stall in Kabuki market over lunch, and V absorbed half of what he was saying, but she was full of good food and the sun was warm on her skin. And if Vik had said it was next to nothing to worry about, well... why worry.

Propping her chin on her knuckles, V glanced off into the thick of the it, gaze wandering across the colorful assortment of stalls and goods for sale. Nothing she felt obligated to buy, but an eclectic selection all the same.

Her eyes narrowed.

“...uh, V?”

She heard him.

Barely.

But her eyes were locked on the rabbit. A scan came up empty, and as it hopped around the corner of the nearest stall, V slipped out of her seat.

With carefree ease, it made its way through the market.

V crept after it, her pace slowed by the bustle of the crowd.

The rabbit ignored her and continued on, disappearing up a walkway without her when she got caught in a particularly thick crowd. Working her way through, she hurried up a level to catch up with it – only to see it’s tail disappear around the curve of the building once she reached the top.

On the upper level of the rotunda, V found the rabbit sitting in front of a door, scrubbing its face with its paws.

“This?” V asked.

The rabbit offered no response, and she glanced up at the sign. She looked down again, and around; the rabbit was nowhere in sight.

Waving her hand over the panel, she opened the door and stepped through.

It was a small shop, but majestic by market standards – a pair of netrunner chairs for public rent in the back, a selection of arcade games... and all the goods that must have been kept behind the counter, or in cyberspace.

The woman manning the counter regarded V coolly as she wandered in. Endeavoring to put up a good front and act, at least, less lost than she felt, V marched right up to the counter. Placing her hands flat, she leaned into it, smiling brightly.

“I’m here to pick something up,” V said. “For...” a rabbit, “...someone. I think.”

The woman behind the counter merely continued to stare at her.

V scratched the back of her neck.

“For... Alice?” she ventured, “Like in Wonderland?”

The woman’s eyes flicked over V’s shoulder, and V followed her gaze to find Jackie moving to stand close behind her.

“Try White Rabbit?” he suggested. “Dinah? Dormouse? Jabberwocky?”

“Maybe...” V tried, “Lewis Carroll?”

It was like attempting to figure out someone’s password. The woman’s bland customer service stare had begun to slip into a look of irritation, as though they were playing some kind of joke.

“Cheshire Cat?” Jackie guessed.

Several uncomfortable seconds ticked by. V dropped to her elbows against the counter, at a complete loss, with the woman now glaring outright, and Jackie slipped his fingers around V’s arm.

“Ah. Apologies, señorita, I think we got the wrong ‘runner shop.”

With a gentle tug, he pulled V away from the counter, and she trailed along after him as he led her out of the shop. He only let go once they were outside, a few paces down the catwalk.

There, he stared down at her, mouth quirked in less of a smile than in complete bewilderment.

“Mind me askin’, What the fuck?”

“Not in the least; I’ve been asking myself that all morning.”

~*~

Her console flickered on. A black screen and a blinking white command line cursor, and nothing else. Lifting her head from her desk, V stared at it, blearily.

Words flashed across the screen.

Who are you?

V sat up a little straighter in her chair, and scrubbed her eyes.

Curiosity won over confusion.

Tentatively, she typed a reply.

The first thing to come to mind.

Who is anybody?

A pause, then followed,

Neither a rhetorical question, nor a riddle. Tell me your name.

Just V.

Link in.

V stared at the words on the screen.

This was the part of her life where being reckless often got her into trouble.

Sometimes, at least, she was aware of it.

In the pause that followed, another word appeared.

Please.

V swallowed. She pulled her neural link free of its cradle, and jacked it into the terminal’s port. She felt... something. A little like linking in to another person and a lot like getting scanned.

You’ll have to do.

“Um. Thanks?” V ventured out loud. She left the cable linked in, for all that she opted to type her replies.

What is going on?

I need you to go to Kabuki market. There’s a netrunner kiosk there. There’s data in their servers I need you to retrieve.

If you’re the one that’s been jerking me around, I was there this afternoon. I don’t think they like me very much.

I’m not jerking anyone around.

Before V could reply, the next line jolted down her back like ice.

I need help.

I have access codes. No one should be there.

Do not trust anyone.

V’s next sentences came slow.

You should know, that’s going to be difficult for me.

I don’t work alone. I have a partner. I trust him very much.

There was a pause before the mystery answered.

Valentino?

Yes.

Don’t involve him.

“Fuck you,” V told the screen, incredulously.

Please.

I need you to find me.

I can’t hold out much longer.

V rubbed her eyes. When she opened them, peering over the back of her hand, there was a single word on the screen.

Help.

“Yeah.” V sighed. “Alright. I heard you.”

Back to Kabuki?

~*~

Kabuki at night only resembled Kabuki during the day.

The merchandise had changed over completely in the hours between, and in the darkness there was much the illusion – if not the reality – that one could find anything.

A distinct flourish of color caught her eye as she turned a corner – an older man, selling nothing less than flowers out of a stall. On another, more leisurely night, V might have stopped and browsed. It wasn’t the first thing to catch her eye, but it was perhaps the most eye-catching.

Tonight, she wove through the evening crowd, once more making her way to the upper rotunda.

The door was locked, its indicator dim.

Narrowing her eyes, V cracked the lock, and the door slid open.

She slipped inside, intuitively pressing herself into the shadows once she was past the threshold. The shop was empty at this hour, and, creeping through the dark, V vaulted over the counter and cracked the door to the back room.

There were several servers running, assorted status lights and screens casting a soft glow over the room. A console drew her attention, and V found a jack to plug into.

For several long moments, she sat still – watching her display and listening to the soft hum of the mainframe as she waited for some connection to be made.

At long last, V fidgeted.

A data packet uploaded to her system.

She didn’t have time to unpack and go over it in detail before a sound got her attention. Another door whispering open, different to the one she’d come in, and V slipped out before whoever it was could stumble across her.

Slipping quickly as she could the long way around the counter, a step ahead of them, V bolted out the shop’s door, onto the rotunda catwalk, and kept on running.

~*~

Her door slid open.

Jolted from her thoughts, V sat up straight.

Jackie poked his head through, offering her a wave and a bright smile when he found her at her desk before stepping through. V pulled herself up from her chair, and stepped around the partition that separated her desk from the rest of the room to meet him.

“¿Qué onda?”

The words that slipped out of her mouth were first that came to mind.

“I was not expecting you here tonight.”

They were overtly blunt, and did nothing to cover her. It was obvious in the way that Jackie cocked his head, eyebrows knit together.

“Had a thing with Vik. Figured while I was in the neighborhood I may as well drop by.”

Smile blooming in full splendor, Jackie offered her a rose.

Taken aback, V blinked at it.

Eyes narrowing at him, she reached for it slowly.

Not a real rose, not up close – the silky petals were made of some kind of synthetic micro-velvet, in an striking array of red and blue, overlapping into one another. Its green leaves and stem hewn closer to the illusion of a plant, but nonetheless still soft under her fingertips.

And even synthetic, the rose still had thorns, for all that they were encased in velvet.

“What’s this you’re working on?”

“Ah.” V turned to find him staring at her terminal screen.

Fuck.

“It’s... something... I was looking into. For someone. Asked me to.”

“Looks familiar...” Jackie mused. He glanced back at her, “Hey, isn’t this the place we broke into the other day?”

V’s gaze was drawn to the map.

“...is it?”

“Maybe not the same floor, but I think that’s the same address.”

He’d barely finished the sentence before V killed the display with a flick of her fingers.

Which only served to bring the full weight of Jackie’s perplexed stare down on her.

V’s gaze fell to the flower in her hands. She twisted it by the stem between her fingertips, watching the petals shiver as they moved.

A small piece of art.

Jackie’s fingers brushed against her temple, and her breath caught in her throat. V leaned into the soft touch as he threaded her hair back behind her ear.

“You know, I...” She breathed out a shaky little sigh. “I’m glad you stopped by. Everything was feeling all...”

It was an honest truth.

Even if it was only a fraction of another.

A deep chuckle rumbled in Jackie’s chest. V dragged her gaze up to meet his.

“For a moment there, thought you were gonna say...” His smirk faded, and he glanced off. “Uh. Yeah. No matter.”

Reaching for his fingers, V let the rose slip from her hand into a glass on the desk. His other hand was already sliding over her hip as she pressed his palm to her mouth, eyes drifting closed, and his fingers skimmed down her chin to tilt her face upward.

Her eyes cracked open again to find him staring, mouth set in a solemn expression that seemed far out of place as he studied her face. Before she could read too far into it, the corner of his mouth quirked, and a slow smile spread across his.

Smiling now herself, V blinked as he kissed her forehead, which was followed by a kiss to her cheek, and another to her chin. He yanked her closer, and she gave a sharp gasp of surprise right against his mouth.

~*~

She was comfortable and warm, and a slow, rhythmic breathing lulled her heart gently.

A small spike of electricity jolted up her spine.

Fuck!

V hadn’t intended to fall asleep.

Squirming, she tried to extricate herself from his embrace without jostling Jackie awake, only for her arm to get held back by a taut pressure on her wrist. Reaching behind her, she followed the tension in her link cable to unplug it from his neural port by touch.

Perceiving a glimpse of the data it was feeding her just before it vanished from her display, V froze, her cable retracting with a soft, audible click as though to punctuate the snag.

Jackie��s arms tightened around her, his mouth soft against the back of her neck sending a shiver coursing through her.

His vitals were hot.

He was wide awake.

“You gonna tell me what it is that’s going on,” he murmured, “or... I gotta make you scream s’more for that?”

“Fuck.”

“Mmm.”

Jackie was warm.

Her bed was warm.

His breath was warm.

That little flutter in her belly in response to his gently scraping across the apex of her jaw with his teeth was warm.

Someone out there needed her help.

“Can’t,” V mumbled at last, wiggling her way out of his grip. She slid her legs out over the edge of the bed, and pressed her hands into her face. “Shit to do.”

“Está bien,” Jackie sighed. He eased past her out of bed, and started picking through their clothes get dressed. “Guess I get to find out when we get there. No es gran cosa.”

“We?”

“You gonna run off into the wild blue yonder chasing rabbits, I’m sure as fuck gonna tag along make sure you don’t trip and disappear down any rabbit holes.”

V rose to her feet as he stepped into his pants.

“Look. I’ve been in Night City long enough – and you’ve taught me enough – that I know what I’m doing. I can take care of myself.”

“Mira. And do you know what it is what you’re doing?”

V stated evenly, and with full confidence, “Not in the fucking least.”

“Exactly my point, V.”

Staring at the floor, V swallowed.

Grabbing up her clothes, one by one, from where they’d fallen, she retreated into her storage room to get dressed. And, more importantly, to strap together her kit.

Stepping out again, she went straight for her terminal, ignoring Jackie as he lurked around behind her.

The shard was missing from the computer’s port.

With a slow, meticulous sigh, V straightened up. She held her hand open over her shoulder, and Jackie pressed the shard into her palm.

“Someone asked for my help,” she told him. “Kept anonymous so far. I really don’t know anything more than that. Just what you saw, and coordinates.”

“They offering you any money?”

“No.”

She slotted the shard. No better place for it, really.

“Sounds suspicious as hell.” Jackie waited until she’d turned around to face him to ask, “Do you really wanna walk into this alone?”

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” V stated. But that wasn’t the whole conflicting truth. “And I’d feel better having you at my back.”

“¿Cuánto mejor?”

“A lot.”

“Eso lo resuelve. We rollin’ or what?”

~*~

V’s coordinates, once they untangled the right set from the jumble of data, led them out to the badlands.

Straight to a worn hatch dug in the rock beneath their feet, under the moonlight.

“I don’t have any idea of what we’re gonna find down there.”

“No sense standing around, then, is there?” Jackie told her. “Let’s go down and find out.”

V sighed.

Then nodded.

The hatch opened smoothly, without a sound. Down the ladder hidden below it, it opened into an empty, well-lit security checkpoint, guarding a lone door.

Stepping up to the door, V happened to glance down, only to find the rabbit sitting at her feet.

On impulse, she crouched down beside it, thinking it might hop away... but it didn’t. She expected her fingers to pass right through it, like a hologram. Instead, its fur was soft under her fingertips. It scrubbed its face and sat up on its haunches, and for the first time seemed to take notice of the fact that she was there next to it.

Incredulous, V smiled.

Then she remembered Jackie was standing right there beside her. Staring down at her like she might’ve lost it; a mix of confusion and concern playing across his face that he was struggling to keep in check. Straightening up, she looked at him, and shrugged.

“I guess... this is our place.”

Jackie glanced up the ladder, and around at the guard station around them. No one had followed them down, not that they expected that; but stranger still, no one was down here already and no alarms had been tripped.

None that they knew of.

V glanced at the rabbit, still there. She reached for the door’s panel; it slid open, and the rabbit meandered through ahead of them.

Strange, how it wasn’t even locked.

Beyond the door was a dimly lit corridor.

Ahead of them, the rabbit wove from wall to wall, leading them onward into the warren of hallways beyond.

Or leading V onward, as Jackie merely followed her.

A more grim discovery lurked within the darkened halls, where they stumbled across a body – armored, but lifeless. And soon enough another. After a few more, clustered together, one of which might’ve been a scientist or a board director, Jackie stopped to inspect one of them more closely.

“These people can’t have been dead longer than a couple of days.” He wondered out loud, “I know life is cheap, but isn’t it kinda weird that no one came down here to check on any of them?”

V didn’t have an answer for him.

Not a real one, anyhow.

Ahead of them, the rabbit sat and cleaned its face.

Their path wound still deeper into the complex.

V’s thoughts turned inward.

What was there here for them to find?

Who would it help, and how?

What were they even doing down here?

The rabbit thumped.

An illusory warning, which nevertheless brought V up short. She saw the danger the moment she did, only for Jackie to wrap his arms around her and pull her out of harm’s potential way. The rabbit had bolted for cover behind one of the elaborate planters posted at intervals along the hallway, opposite the one were now crouched behind.

Ahead of them, a crew of maybe a dozen heavily armored soldiers, clustered at the end of the hall. One was working on a security door with a torch. Two were standing by. The rest were milling about uneasily

Looks like they’re trying to cut through to whatever’s in there., V flicked to the man over her shoulder.

Bet you it’s the same thing we’re after, whatever that is., hit her display a moment later. You got a map of this place, too? Flick me a copy.

V did as he asked, and almost imperceptible, Jackie shifted beside her, obscuring his eyes to hide the glow of his lens. He gave her shoulder an amicable pat, and stepped out into the corridor.

“Wait, what...?” V tried to ask, the words a breath on her lips and spoken to late.

“¡Cogé a cada una de tus madres y a tus padres cogé dos veces!”

Having brought all due attention down on his head, Jackie turned and bolted back the way they had come, bellowing a boisterous laugh as he did.

It was only luck and timing with which V slipped around the planter, out from under the gaze of a soldier glancing back, and as two men left behind – the one cutting through, the other his guard – turned their attention back to the door.

Great plan, Jack, V was tempted to send after him.

Not that she had a better one.

She stifled it, focusing on the task at hand.

Stepping up silently behind the guard, V caught her arm around his throat and prayed he would go down before he could send a message to his buddies.

He went slack in her arms, and the other man didn’t seem to notice.

A good sign.

The power tool posed a challenge – scanning it, V found a weak link and short-circuited its connection to the powercell. When the man stood, she leapt at him out of the darkness to slam his forehead against the door, knocking him cold as well.

V sighed.

The rabbit crouched at the door as she pulled the battery from the cutting tool, and used it to restore emergency power to the keypad. Whatever programs had been loaded onto the Kabuki packet autobooted to work their magic, and the door slid open with a screech of warped metal.

Dim light spilled out.

When she looked down, the rabbit was gone again.

The room beyond was half-powered. Emergency lights still hummed above her head, brighter than the ones in the hall, as she passed under them, but there was also the deeper hum of more sensitive electronics. Taking it in, V found herself standing in a netrunner station – a single chair in the center of the room, surrounding by an array of databanks and consoles and screens, with even more databanks stacked deep along the walls.

There was a woman in the netrunner chair, eyes closed and inert.

Biting her lip, V concentrated on what looked to be the main console. She linked in to it, and whatever command or access she was carrying seemed to... do... something, as some of the screens flashed to life, and the fluorescent lights overhead buzzed to life.

An unmarked text message flickered across her display, demanding her attention.

Retaining bolt.

“Um?”

As V stood there, at a loss, another message appeared.

Back of the chair. Slides across.

She glanced at the woman in the chair as she circled it, examining closer. Finding what she thought must have been it, she fussed with the lateral bolt until it scratched and slid from one side of its mooring to the other.

Something disconnected, and as soon as V had pulled the bolt, the netrunner stirred. She groaned as she struggled to sit up, and V sprung to her feet to support her as she detached one wire after the next. Fully disconnected, she wavered a bit in V’s hold, and perhaps thinking better of it, sank back into the chair.

“...water?”

V frowned.

She hadn’t thought to bring water.

But had she...?

Stepping back, she dug through her bag in search of any that might have happened along for the trip. Instead, she unearthed a soft nutrient packet. Unsealing it and uncapping the built-in straw, she pressed into the woman’s hands, letting go only when she was certain it wouldn’t fall from them once she did.

Raising it to her mouth without even looking at it, the woman pulled a tentative sip. She pulled a face at the flavor, side-eyeing V as she did, but continued to drink the thick mixture anyway.

“It’s pomegranate black cherry,” V stated helpfully.

“It’s goddamn corn syrup,” the woman groused back.

“Yeah...” V agreed cheerfully, “But it’s artificially sweetened to taste like what some corpo-mandated algorithm has determined pomegranate and black cherry mixed together tastes like. And the date’s still good – ‘cause that shit’ll last well into the next century.”

The woman rolled her eyes.

“And, uh...” V pulled the jacket she’d found out of her bag, along with the cyberdeck. “I think this is yours?”

She offered it to the woman, who stared at it coolly.

“...yeah,” she said after a moment, taking it from V. “Thanks.”

With a distinct lack of enthusiasm, she left the entire thing in her lap as she focused instead on sucking down the fruity meal replacement corn syrup.

Moments ticked by in awkward silence. V walked along the perimeter marked off by the consoles, drumming her fingers on the metal casings, and the woman eyed her all the while.

Before V could think of a suitable topic to broach the silence, a message flickered on her lens.

Hope you’ve found what you’re looking for, chica, ‘cause I could use a hand whenever you got a moment.

Her blood ran cold.

“Fuck,” she swore out loud.

Jackie wasn’t asking for help, he was just... asking for help.

That didn’t bode well.

Finding the woman staring at her, V explained, “I gotta delta – my partner might be in trouble.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed. “The guy I explicitly told you not to bring along?”

“Yeah, well – he’s stubborn,” V defended. “And to be fair I don’t think I could have gotten down here without him; we ran into another team down here trying to get to you and he opted to run a decoy. On his behalf, You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Motherfucker.”

Taking a thick slurp off the packet, the woman sought out of the cyberdeck in her lap. She plugged them into the jack on her arm, and strapped the cuff around her wrist.

“So, yeah,” V said, starting for the door, “gotta go.”

After a thought, V paused to turn back. “And... um, I guess you should know where my apartment is; Megabuilding H-Ten, oh-seven-sixteen – feel free to grab whatever you need out of it once you get out of here.”

“Wait.” Patting down her pockets until she found it, the woman pulled the blank shard from her jacket. She slotted it, and V hesitated, glancing at the door.

A handful of moments later, she slipped the shard free, and held it out.

“Take this.”

“What is it?”

“Trust me.” The netrunner shrugged. “Or don’t.”

~*~

V dashed down the halls, following Jackie’s signal. She barely slowed coming around the corner where he was pinned down, and slid her knife free from its sheath.

None of the soldiers were paying her any mind, too focused on the displaced Valentino in their midst.

Jackie was kicking up a fuss: machete in one hand, gun in the other, with a modicum of cover in an old office and a barrage of increasingly petty insults.

They might’ve wanted him alive. To know how he knew about this place, or whatever intel Corporate liked to know about trespassers on their top-secret bases.

V held no such regard for their benefit.

Their armor was comprehensive, so she focused on the weakest spot she could fathom, and jammed her knife into the soft gap between the helmet and the shoulders of the first man she reached. He went down in a gurgle of blood, and her sudden arrival caught the rest of the lot by surprise.

As soon as he realized she was there, Jackie leapt into the fray with her, firing at one of the men and bringing another to his knees with enough force to crack bone as he twisted between them to reach her.

Between the two of them, an easy half of the soldiers were down before they wound up back to back, surrounded in the cramped hallway. The rest began to spasm and collapse one after the other around them as their implants seized up and overloaded, burning them from within.

For Jackie, the fight went on a moment longer, until he realized for good there wasn’t anyone else left standing. He raised an eyebrow at the still-twitching bodies.

“Ah...” He turned to V. “Neat trick. Hope you got what you came here for,” he told her again, adding, “‘cause I think they called for backup.”

“Reinforcements are on their way, I suggest you find an exit now.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right.” V answered them, one after the next, “Hey, what about you?”

Jackie blinked at her, before the realization dawned on his face that she wasn’t talking to him.

“Already way ahead of you.”

“Yeah, alright,” V replied, before glancing up at Jackie. “Time to leave.”

“Pase,” Jackie agreed, with a sweep of his arm.

With no rabbit to guide them, they followed the map. It cut them a swift path to the security gate, and they escaped back into the desert.

~*~

The closest thing to a rendezvous was V’s apartment, and the netrunner wasn’t there waiting for them.

For a few moments, V thought she might have been. The door glitched, refusing at first to open, but everything seemed as she and Jackie had left it – the bed unmade, the room lived in, in a hurry.

In the end, it might have been wishful thinking. V realized she wouldn’t have been able to tell, one way or the other.

Once it was obvious they were alone, Jackie had shed his machete and made himself right at home on her couch.

V followed him, slowly, and was still trying to determine if – maybe – that one can of cream tangerine dream in particular had been open and empty when they’d left when he leaned forward to wrap his arms around her and pull her onto his lap.

“All’s well that ends well, huh?”

V shifted around in his arms, and he kept her steady as she found her balance, knees to one side of him as she draped across his chest, leaning into his shoulder.

“Has it ended well?” she asked.

Jackie’s eyebrows raised in question. Her fidgeting stopped. “I thought... you might be pissed off.”

“You kidding?”

“Not really, no.”

“V, you tried to seduce me as a means to a deception. That’s like somethin’ I would do. I love it to think that I might be a bad influence on you.”

V snorted. “Other way around, maybe.”

“Maybe. But, uh....” Shifting under her, Jackie shrugged. “Anything else you might wanna let me in on, while we’re on the subject?” He brushed her cheek with his thumb, then his hand dropped lower, where he toyed with the neck of her shirt. “Little secrets? Heartfelt confessions?” Smirking, he flicked his gaze up to meet her eyes. “Any other shit you might’ve been holding out on me?”

V pressed her tongue into the corner of her mouth as she considered the question.

“I thought it must be obvious,” she remarked.

“Hrmm?”

Dipping her head, she nuzzled his jaw.

He tilted his face towards her and their lips brushed together as she pulled only near enough away that their eyes again met. Stretching just that far, Jackie enticed her back down until her mouth was pressed firmly against his, with his fingers tangled her hair.

The television screen flickered to life, emitting a soft, crackling hum.

V paid it little mind; Jackie, even less.

“...am I interrupting?”

They broke apart, V casting about for the source of the voice and Jackie tensing outright, his fingers digging into her shoulder as he assessed the danger of a threat that wasn’t there.

Or... was maybe not a threat to them, anyway.

“Mmm, tal vez un poco,” Jackie answered her, while V stared mutely at the screen. “Wanna try back in an hour?”

The woman depicted on it hrrmphed.

“The name’s T-Bug. I wanted to thank you for your assistance earlier.”

“I’m happy we got there in time.”

“Trust me, so am I.” In the brief pause that followed, the woman seemed to arrange her thoughts. “Listen, I...” she explained, haltingly guarded, “Recently... I’ve hit upon some hard times, and my resources are limited right now. I can’t exactly pay you back for what you’ve done for me, but I’d still like to find a way to even things out.”

“Sometimes it’s not about the payoff.”

V started to slide off Jackie’s chest as he jolted up straighter. Eyes locked on the screen, he slipped an arm over her to catch her on reflex, and she got a hand on the couch to prop herself back up.

“Hey... you...” he jabbed a finger at the screen, eyes narrow. “Not to interrupt, but I feel like I know you from somewhere. Did we, uh... Have we... met... before all this?”

“Yes.”

“Ah.” Jackie fidgeted beneath her, and V followed the conversation raptly between him and the woman on the screen. “Sorry, if I, uh... can’t remember every little detail...”

“I was hired on for cybersecurity. Consulting job. You showed up out of literal nowhere and punched my client in the jaw. Tracking you down after the fact wasn’t really worth anyone’s time or money.”

“¡Ay! That... must’ve been it. Now that you bring it up.” Under his breath, he breathed a quieter, “Gracias a Dios.”

T-Bug seemed to regard him for moment more, then her attention visibly shifted.

“V.”

“Mhhm?”

“I’ll contact you later when I’m better situated.”

“Guess you already know where to find me.”

“Yeah. In the meanwhile, I’ll let you get back to... what you were doing.”

The television screen flickered off again.

Jackie continued to stare at it, until V combed her fingertips through his hair and she felt him start beneath her.

“Ah. Right.” Jackie cleared his throat. “What were we doin’ again?”

Biting back a smirk, V offered a hapless shrug. “Not sure I remember.”

“Guess we’ll just have to do this, then.”

The way his arm tightened around her was all the warning she got when all at once he twisted, rolling her onto the couch beneath him with a deep chuckle at her surprised squeak.

~*~

“Where’s your friend?”

“Honest?” V answered wryly, “In hiding.”

“...in hiding?”

T-Bug met her easy smile with open skepticism.

It only made V’s smile grow deeper.

“I think he might be worried that you’re gonna hack his dick.”

Hands slowing as she worked, T-Bug regarded V for a long moment, then scoffed with a shake her head.

V leaned over the chair, watching her wire her space. The apartment was barely more than a room, smaller than V’s, and the assorted half-built array of netrunning equipment took up half the floor space, and a sliding partition wall separating the net space from the rest of the living space made it feel even smaller.

“Isn’t this place a little cramped?”

“You don’t need much space when you’ve got cyberspace.”

Sitting back, T-Bug scratched her eyebrow. “So, I managed to, uh... I called in some old favors, scraped together a few eddies; it’s not much, but it should cover the food I took from your apartment. It’s on the counter.”

“From the looks of things, I think you need it more than I do.”

T-Bug’s eyes widened, a glance slowly pulled V’s way. “Generous of you.”

She sighed, brushing off her hands as she got to her feet, and fixed her stare on V.

“Hey. Who are you, really?” she asked. “The letter V alone is impossible to find a data trail on; what’s the real name?”

“V is my real name. In its entirety. I rode with the Bakkers, before the clan fell apart.”

“And now you do mercwork in Night City?”

“It’s a living. And I occasionally rescue netrunners from...” V trailed off as her gaze fell on the chair, and she realized she still didn’t know. “What the hell was all that, anyway? Why did they have you locked in like that?”

The expression on T-Bug’s face soured.

“From what I managed to piece together when I was in their network, some kind of AI research,” T-Bug indulged her, “I don’t know the detes. Typical corpo overlord wanna-be bullshit.”

“You don’t think anyone’ll come after you?”

“I hope they’ll have learned their lesson the first time. And, with respect? I’m trying to put it behind me.”

V took the hint.

And felt a twinge of regret for having asked

Standing straighter, she gave the chair a pat.

“Guess I should let you... finish... setting up all this...”

It looked pretty set up, but V didn’t know much about netrunning tech, aside from the few tricks she’d picked up in trade.

“Mmm,” T-Bug intoned.

V started for the door, pausing at the threshold as T-Bug’s drifted after her.

“Hey, V?”

V looked back to find screens flickering on. Standing amidst the cluttered display of cyber-tech that was her element, T-Bug smiled at her... for all that it looked a little forced. “I’ll be in touch.”

Smiling back, V nodded a goodbye.

The door slid closed behind her; the indicator on the panel reading it to be locked.

V followed the faded carpet running the length of the hallway towards the stairs, to make her way out onto the streets. There, she rolled her shoulders as she picked a direction at random, her smile had faded a touch, but didn’t vanish.

She had no destination in mind.

It was nearing midnight, and the city was still wide awake.

#cyberpunk 2077 #nomad!v #jackie welles #t-bug #misty olszewski #viktor vektor #fanfiction #please take this away from me now #it is a long fic for me you probably wanna read it on ao3

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sevensins-stuff · 4 years

Text

"In about fifteen minutes, the cookies should be done!"

They exclaimed as they closed the oven door. Luke cheered happily as they approached the counter he sat at. They leaned over opposite of him and sighed contently.

"Thank you for baking with me today."

"it's no problem. I wanted to spend more time with you anyways."

"Hey Luke," he looked up at them with his big blue eyes wide and attentive. "I know this may seem really out of the blue, but I'm just really curious about something."

"What is it, Mc?"

"Well, I was wondering about your angel form. Your real angel form. I've only heard other humans talk about it but I wanna know if what they're saying is true."

His eyebrows grew closer with his growing concern and he thought for some amount of time on whether he should answer or not. But there wasn't any reason for him to not answer. They had been nothing but kind to him and as far as he knew, they would have no other reason to ask him about it other than pure curiosity. He chose to answer their question honestly.

"Angels differ in a whole amount of ways. I'm not old enough so I have yet to reach my full potential, but I've seen Simeon change only once before."

Luke looked behind both his left and right shoulders before leaning over the counter to speak lowly to the human in front of him.

"To a human he looks just like how you would imagine a typical angel to you would look. The only difference would be his halo. Instead of it being on top of his head, it's on the back of it. If you look at it from far away it kinda looks like an eye but with half a circle instead of a whole circle. It gives you a bit of a hint to his true form. It scared me when I first saw him since I was so used to seeing his current form."

His heart began to race as he recollected his memories from that time. He calmed himself down enough to explain.

"His face was covered in eyes. Where the joints of his shoulders should've been were real hearts that beated and bled gold down his arms and he was three times his original size. He couldn't talk but he could still feel in every sense of the word. He's a warrior like Michael but Simeon is still an empathetic entity. It's rare to see his true form but it must mean that he had been badly hurt in some way. I don't know what happened that day he changed, but he still made an effort to hide. I just happened to find him. To this day I still haven't told him that I've seen his true form, but I still feel like he saw me somehow."

The sweet smell of the cookies swirled through the air and changed the smell of the whole room. But it wasn't enough to distract him. To think that someone he thought he knew could still hide so much. Or was it the impending doom that waited for him once he comes of age? They placed a light hand on his that started to tremble to try and help calm his nerves.

"Some angels roam around freely in their natural forms, but many of us replicate a more human-like look. It's just really weird seeing some angels true forms."

The timer on the oven beeped signaling that the cookies were ready. As much as they didn't want to, they had to remove their hand from Luke's in order to keep the baked goods from burning. They slipped on an oven mitt and opened the door. An intense wave of heat and the strong sweet smell hit them all at once as they grabbed the heated tray and placed it on the counter next to them.

"Thank you, Luke, for telling me. I can't imagine how you must be feeling right now," They removed the oven mitt and placed it on the counter beside the goods before turning to look at the blond boy. "But it took a lot of courage for you to tell me something so honestly."

They opened their arms for him and he didn't take an extra moment to come running towards them. What he needed at that point in time was to be in their arms.

#obey me #obey me swd #obey me headcanons #obey me luke #after i met you #tw: body gore

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gallivantingheart · 3 years

Photo

Me, a Princess? Shut Up!

masterlist | previous | next

⏮️ chapter 5: anneliese ⏭️

who?: jihoon/woozi x (f)reader

word count: 2800

genre/s: fluff, humour, social media!au

warnings: mild coarse language

synopsis: Life’s pretty good for y/n. Easy, even. Until someone claiming to be her grandmother says she is the queen of a small island country - and y/n, a princess.

a/n: this one’s kinda super long-ish than usual. and a bit of a filler/character chapter, but I still hope you like it 😊

**please ignore the timestamps - they are not accurate**

TAGLIST: @strykiss, @karrotkarrotkarrot, @3sriracha, @minkwans,

don’t hesitate to send an ask or dm to be added!

Soonyoung doesn’t dare kick his feet up onto the antique coffee table now that your grandmother is in the building, despite how much more comfortable it would be to. The way he reclines so deeply gives away his bad habits as he clears his throat and sits up a little better. You’re glad that Soonhee has tasked the ambassador with your princess lessons for a while. Maybe a more relaxed approach might jog your memory.

“So, where did Her Majesty get to last you did this?” He says, flipping open the photo album.

You lean forward, holding your sandwich up and away from the pages. “Uh, great grandparents. So...sixth generation.”

His brows raise. “Only sixth?”

You whine, slumping as he laughs kindly at you, empty of any maliciousness. Since the security breach, you’ve really warmed up to Soonyoung, glad to have someone closer to your age to relate to and learn from. And he’s a great teacher. Patient but firm, not to mention relentless. He told you about his travels across the country and secret stories about Amaide. They gave you a better idea of the kingdom you may end up leading.

You groan loudly - bordering a roar - after mixing up your great, great grandmother with your great grandaunt (once removed) and snap the album shut.

“Soon, spare me. My brain is seizing up.”

He laughs louder this time, eyes vanishing into his round cheeks. “Okay, okay. You’re probably right. Class dismissed.”

You get up and check your phone, noting the time. Maybe you would have enough time to catch the start of Jihoon’s radio show, if you left now. Jihoon did say he wouldn’t mind if you dropped by - inviting you even before you needed places to hide. Tonight might be a good time to? You slide your kitten heels back on, pulling out your earphones. Only now do you realise that there is a constant, soft pattering from the roof - rain. At least Junwoo was driving you everywhere now, so no risk of getting too wet. Your footsteps echo through the embassy, killing the quiet you’d become familiar with in the old building.

“So where are you headed now?” Soonyoung asks, tipping his head at the attendant who hands him his coat.

You shrug your own on, as well as a felted plaid scarf. “Uh, back to campus? I’ve got a friend I wanna visit.”

The blonde checks his watch, eyebrows shooting up into his feathery fringe. “At this time? There are still people at your college?”

“Hmmm. They have a community radio station. Jihoon has a show on Thursday nights.”

“Oh, do you want a lift?”

You slant your head at him as he detours past the front desk down a short and fairly dim hallway, elaborate alcoves set into either side of the wall.

“Sure? Only if you’re going out? Otherwise Junwoo is at my disposal, so to say.” You wave your hand in a dramatic version of your grandmother’s wave.

Soonyoung nods eagerly. “Yeah! I’m meeting up with some friends in Hongdae later on tonight, so leaving a little earlier won’t hurt. Like I told you, I’ve got nothing to do now Soonhee is catching up.”

You grin, jumping for the passenger seat of the dark car Soonyoung indicates to. Darkly tinted windows, an expectation of most cars you get in nowadays.

“So, who is Jihoon? Is he the one you posted about the other day?”

You nod, carefully not looking at him as you gesture to turn right out of the gates. “Y-yeah. Ah, he’s Mingyu’s cousin.”

You flinch at your voice, stuttered and shy. You didn’t need someone else giving you crap over Jihoon. Soon’s eyebrows raise as he purses his lips, humming in thought.

“Huh. Alright.” Okay, he so doesn’t believe you, but whatever. “That’s nice that you have such a close group of friends. They obviously know about the whole princess thing.”

“Yeah. Can’t really hide something this big from people who have known you most of your life, y’know? Grandmother doesn’t know they know though.” You insist, bouncing a little in your seat.

The rain has died down into a drizzle, almost spitting, so Soonyoung turns the heater and the wipers down. But you can already imagine the cold wet seeping into your shoes, tucking them closer to yourself.

“Of course not. Her Majesty would lose it if she knew you’d broken protocol so early on. Secret’s safe with me, I swear.”

His eyes are wide and he’s quite serious about it, a little bit more desperate than you expected him to be. You don’t dwell on it as you tell him to turn again into the east entrance, past a familiar cluster of restaurants.

When he gets to a set of bollards, you sling the door open, fashioning your scarf over your head. “This is me. Thanks Soonie!”

He grins, waving. “No worries! See you next week! Be safe!”

“You too! Night.”

Shutting the door, you dash for the first spot of dry you see, turning to wave him off.

You navigate the dark campus and get out of the lift five minutes before the start of the show. It’s only then that you question whether or not Jihoon would really want you there. You’re just his cousin’s best friend he’s really nice to, maybe a friend of his yourself. You hesitate at studio 2, shifting from foot to foot as you overthink.

“You’re more than welcome to come by and watch one of the shows if you want. Mingyu and Minghao have even been in an episode or two.” Jihoon looks up briefly to smile small.

Quickly, you open the door and claim a seat next to Bumzu, Jihoon’s director and producer for the radio show. He’s quite well known in most circles, being everyone’s music and tech go-to. You put your finger to your lips, unwrapping your scarf from your head. Somehow, Jihoon is too absorbed in prep to notice you come in.

“Ji said I could come by. I hope I’m not in the way.” You whisper, unsure of the standards in the studio.

Bumzu smiles, his rougher edges softening. He passes you another set of headphones, plugging them in. The on air sign isn’t on yet, luckily.

“Not at all. We’re just about to start. Make yourself comfortable.” he murmurs. “Jihoon, we’re good to go. Cameras are rolling.”

You look over to see Jihoon settling in in his classic sweats and slides, despite being filmed. The host’s eyes slide to you, widening in shock. He motions to you with a wave, brows quirked. You wave shyly, smiling tentatively. The on air light above you buzzes to life and you settle, fond smile pressing at your lips. A subdued but chill jingle plays, male vocals playing to introduce the show.

“Hey everyone, it’s Woozi and welcome to tonight’s Woozi Tunes, your thursday night music fix. We’ve got new stuff from Justin Bieber and our on campus artist, Bumzu.” Jihoon says into the mic, giving a short wave to a camera.

As he chatters about this and that, his eyes slide your way, holding for prolonged amounts of time. Even Bumzu smiles, waving him off subtly. You’ve probably put him off, poor thing.

“So, first up we have Golden by Harry Styles. All thanks to his new mv, which I really recommend watching. Hope you like it.” He turns a few dials and nudges his headphones off an ear.

Jihoon looks straight at you, squinting a little as he smiles. You mirror his actions, shuffling closer while carefully staying out of the various camera shots.

“Bumzu, we’ve got four in the queue, right?”

The producer next to you nods. “Yeah, an ad segment then I’ll open the request lines. So, ten, maybe fifteen minutes till live. Studio audio has been muted.”

You don’t understand any of the small terms being thrown out around you. But you don’t care too much, bundling your scarf closer to your neck in the enclosed room for something to do.

“Y/n, I didn’t know you were coming.” Jihoon says, empty of malice.

You smile but shrug. “Yeah, I ended up finishing pr- uh, study group earlier than I expected and thought I’d drop by. I hope that’s not too much trouble.”

He shakes his head, shuffling his slides back and forth over the tightly woven grey carpet. Beats and patterns wave behind his head, turning the fluorescent halo around his hair neon.

“Not at all. I’m glad you decided to come. I hope you enjoy it.”

“I always enjoy your radio shows, Ji.” You blurt out.

Your jaw drops at your lack of filter, promptly shutting your mouth as your stomach drops and flutters. Wow, maybe Minghao is a bit right - too obvious. His brows quirk, resting his elbow on his knee.

“You listen to it?” He asks.

“Of course I do! I like you-your music taste.” You clench your teeth through your grin.

Wow, you really needed to learn how to filter your brain better. At least you don’t blush easily. You chatter back and forth about the playlist for tonight and his upcoming guests - he has Seokmin and Jeonghan, a mutual friend of Joshua’s, next week to talk musicals and teaching (how they relate, you’re not really sure). You forget Bumzu is even in the room until he gently clears his throat.

“Jihoon, you’re back on in 60.” He calls quietly.

“Oh! Oh right. Thanks, Bumzu.” Jihoon glances back to you, the tips of his ears a fairy floss pink. He’s grinning though. “Psst, do you want to talk more after the show?”

You nod, shooting a thumbs up, casting a glance back up to the time, hearing the end of a Pink Sweat$ song fade out.

He’s more charismatic over radio than you realise, leaning back in his chair and chatting briefly to one of the callers requesting. Still subdued but open, cracking a grin here and there. You check the radio show’s page to see if anyone is commenting on the show tonight - you’re a frequent snooper. Jihoon has quite a few fans, not just on campus. You bop your head along to his rhythmic playlist and listen intently to his callers. Before you know it, Jihoon is hunched near the controls and ending the show.

“Thanks for tuning into another Woozi Tunes on 97.6 fm. Remember, if you want to listen to this episode or any others, podcast recordings and playlists will be available on Spotify. To play us out, a song for, well a friend. An oldie but a good one - Bruno Mars, Finesse. Woozi, signing off.”

You bite your lip to stifle laughter. His favourite artist, your favourite song. You let him murder it the summer of 2018, long after it had come out, just to annoy Mingyu.

“And… cut. Cameras and audio are off. Another week down.” Bumzu announces, pulling off his headset.

You pull off your own, delicately setting it aside. You give a lone round of applause. “Well done everyone.”

The radio host looks to you, quietly preening as he stands to tug his jacket off the back of his chair. You stay seated out the way as they clear everything away, slotting equipment into draws and wiping down surfaces. There isn’t even any idle chatter between them, but rather than being awkward it’s a moment of peace you didn’t know you wanted. Working, content peace away from everything as of late.

“Jihoon, don’t worry. I’ll finish up.”

Jihoon’s dark brows shoot up. “No no, hyung. We’re almost done.”

“Exactly. There’s not much left and I lock up anyway. You’ve got an early seminar tomorrow. And a guest. You can head off.” The older man insists, his soft edges turning to a stubborn frown.

The younger of the two rolls pretty quick, pushing the keyboard away and nodding. Jihoon’s dark eyes flick to you hopefully as he grabs his keys and wallet from an open draw.

“Alright. Talk tomorrow. Night, hyung.”

You give the older man a wave, bundling yourself up again now that you’re leaving the enclosed space. “Thank you, Bumzu! Good night.”

You head out into the hallway, meandering down to the lift and then the small set of stairs to the entry of the arts building. The rain is heavier as you drift awkwardly, checking your phone and contemplating your journey home.

“How - how are you getting home?” Jihoon asks, flipping his hood up over his dark hair.

You shrug. “Bus. Soonyoung dropped me off, not Junwoo.”

His lips press together as he shows a prolonged nod, kicking at the lino in his slides. You click through for the bus timetable, patting your pockets for your purse. You wonder what he’s waiting for, seeing as he drove here and the carpark for this side of the campus is underground and less than five minutes. He probably had staff parking too because of the radio show.

“Are you busy?” Jihoon asks suddenly, a little sharper than you’re used to.

You shoot him some side eye, tucking your phone away. “What...when?”

“Uh, now?”

You smile, shaking your head and stuffing your hands in your deep coat pockets. “Nope, I’m free.”

His shoulders perk up and he pulls his hood back down. Jihoon’s ears are going a little pink again as he turns back for the stairs further into the building. You feel the tentative excitement rolling off him, rubbing off on you so that you mirror his frame, your own shoulders tucking up around your ears. Every shuffle of your feet echo and the light sensor above you flashes red.

“Do you want to see my new song? I know you haven’t had the chance to see much of them.”

You’d mentioned - gently hounded, you hoped would be the best alternative term - before that you would be excited to hear some of his stuff. You’re already on your way back to the lifts.

“Absolutely! Lead the way.”

You lean over the soundboard, listening intently to the demo track. His voice is distinct, so unlike what you thought it might be. Still, it's versatile and powerful when combined with the lyrics. The beat is steady and you bounce your head along.

You glance to him, leant back in his seat watching you. "You wrote this? Like, all of this?"

He hums. "Yeah. It’s the track I got an HD for.”

Jihoon's arms are crossed and you feel bad that he has to feel defensive with you. You smile then gasp when the pretty singing becomes fluid rapping. His gaze turns with your reactions, concerned. Finally, you pull off the headphones as the minute and a half closes.

"I - singing, rapping! Composing? This is amazing, Ji! I'm so glad your major is music, otherwise your talent would be wasted for sure." You proclaim.

He ducks his head and fluffs at his hair with a smile. Jihoon seems unable to look at you and you let the bashfulness slide - not. You nudge at his chair so it spins.

"Wah, you act like no one has ever said that before!"

"I - it sounds a little different coming from you." he shrugs, still not looking. "Most of them are a little amazed or they're assessors with a job of picking it apart."

You nod and sigh. "Makes sense. Still. I hope you keep that track. I'd listen to it."

Jihoon beams before his sight slides to the digital clock sitting on a shelf - how very retro and efficient - eyes widening as he sits up straight.

“I - It’s almost midnight. We better head out.”

You can’t help but pout, standing up to push your chair in. “Yeah I’ve, of course, got princess things to attend to. Bumzu said you have class, don’t you?”

His slim fingers peek out of his navy sleeves, flying across the keyboard to turn everything off. “Uh-huh. I’m supposed to be doing the readings on it now, but It’s a pretty lax class so I should be able to get away with it.”

Your mouth is flapping silently like a fish, unable to form any coherent speech to reply with. Something not scolding, nor a joke, seeing as he’d just sacrificed his valuable study time to entertain you. Then he’s in the doorway, hand hovering over the light switch.

“Are you coming, Princess? Or am I leaving you in the dark?” Jihoon looks at you expectantly.

You gasp - mostly at the teasing name - and scuttle after him, breaking out into the dingy hall, yellowing walls and all. “I - yeah, sorry! Let’s go.”

(If Jihoon sings along to the radio on the way to yours, you don’t say anything. You’re grateful that he does the same for you when the Top 40 segment comes up in the thirty-five minute trip.)

#caratwritersclub #seventeen au #seventeen fic #seventeen social media au #seventeen scenario #seventeen imagine #jihoon fic #jihoon imagine #jihoon scenario #seventeen smau #woozi fic #woozi imagine #woozi scenario #woozi x reader #jihoon x reader #mapsu fic #written

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harringrovetrashrat · 4 years

Note

Hey I'm new at 'Asking' on tumblr but I'll give it ago, I was thing like, a harringrove soulmate au, (it can be what ever) but like they find out mid-flight at the Byers, like (the thing you choose) happened, and maybe even one of the kids see and is all like "omg are u guys SOULMATES?!?!?"

YES YES!!!

I’ve never done a soulmark fic before, so I truly hope you enjoy this!! I had fun writing it, either way, lol

(Quick note: Shirts v Skins in this is more Shirts v Tanks for privacy based around marks. Most things are made so you have privacy, but a lot of people are open with their marks anyway.)

The day that Steve found out that Nancy wasn’t his soulmate probably should have been a little sadder. Don’t get him wrong, Steve had been fucking heartbroken. Had felt like something was missing inside him. But it had made sense. Because there was always something that didn’t click between the two of them. Where Steve reached, Nancy pulled away. Where she went, he couldn’t follow.

He reminded himself it wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t her fault she didn’t love him, you can’t make yourself love another person, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

Also, he probably should have seen it coming when he got his mark. When the mark appeared on his ribs, a crown encircled by a wave.

He had no fucking idea what that meant. How it related to him and Nancy.

After the breakup, done in her front yard on her birthday in late August, when hers appeared and was a camera with an eye for a lens, he had hated looking at it. Hated the reality it presented, even if he was happy for Nancy and Jonathan. More jealous of what they had together. The mark was a constant reminder that he was the problem, so he stopped showering at school after practice. Changed and left as quickly as he could. Did the same at home, hoping, wishing that if he just didn’t look, it would go away. It never did. He never looked in the mirror without a shirt anymore.

Then Billy Hargrove arrived and Steve’s world was fucked.

He was everywhere, getting into Steve’s space, challenging him for the throne he didn’t even fucking want. Blue eyes, tanned skin, rough hands, and a tongue that refused to stay in his mouth. Steve didn’t like to admit that that tongue had featured a lot in his dreams. That he had imagined Billy pressing him against his bed, pressing him against fucking anything, and speaking in that low voice that hit Steve in his gut.

It wasn’t necessarily shocking, Steve had come to terms with kinda looking at boys too, but it’d never been like this. He’d never been so utterly consumed by the thought of another person. Not even with Nancy. Billy Hargrove was a temptation, but also not a possibility. He was a man’s man, a ladies man, and an all around asshole.

By the time he had joined the basketball team, Steve had developed the worst one sided crush he’d ever had in his life. And it didn’t even make sense. Sure, he’d noticed that Billy was smart, was attentive and observant, just like Jonathan. But he was also a massive tool.

Practice was normal enough, Billy and Tommy doing what they could to get a rise out of Steve, but he quickly brushed it off, making a beeline for his locker. He heard the clanking of a lock and turned to see Billy opening his locker. When he noticed that Steve wasn’t showering he turned his wolf-like grin on him, tongue peeking out between his teeth.

“What’s up, Harrington? Kings don’t sweat?” Steve ignored him, sighing. Billy smirked, smile going sly and… something Steve couldn’t place. “Got an embarrassing mark or something?” Steve rolled his eyes, blocking Billy’s view of the left side of his ribs as he pulled his shirt on.

“Just don’t want y’all tryin’ to look at my massive dick, Hargrove,” he replied. There was a pause, then Billy laughed, loud and bright. It sounded surprised and almost happy.

“That so, King?” Steve slammed his locker closed and shot Billy a dark look. He kept his eyes on Billy’s, not letting them wander over the expanse of his chest. Billy smirked, like he knew where Steve wanted to look, where he wasn’t going to look. Steve turned on his heel and left, ignoring the blood pumping in his ears.

Then everything kinda went to shit.

Or well, really, really went to shit.

He didn’t know why Billy had to always goad him, had to be such a prick all the time. Why he had to come here to find Max, on tonight of all nights. Why he had to smash a fucking plate over his head. And now here he was, being flipped over as Billy straddled him, much differently from his dreams, and got ready to beat the shit out of him. Steve looked up at him, hating that the light created a halo behind him, hating that he looked good, hating everything. Billy’s shirt was hiked up, Steve had tugged it free from his jeans as they grappled, and as he moved, it rose some more.

“Holy shit!” Dustin’s exclamation wasn’t new, mixing in with the cries of the other teens, but then he said something that made both boys pause. “Your mark!” Billy went rigid on top of him, slapping his hand over the side of his back hip as he turned and leveled Dustin with a glare.

“What?” He snarled, tugging his shirt down with one hand while he held Steve down with the other. “If you think pointing that shit out is gonna make me--”

“I’ve seen it,” he whispered, eyes widening. “Oh my god, that’s--” He let out a weird sound, making Billy let Steve go fully, narrowing his eyes. Steve took his chance, sitting up quickly, trying to shove Billy back, but he gripped Steve’s body with his legs, pulling him along. They rolled and Dustin let out another strange noise. “You guys! Stop!” Both older teens turned to look at him, confusion on their faces. He went forward, tugging at Billy’s shirt, trying to get a better look at his mark. Billy scrambled away, shoving Dustin’s hands.

“What the fuck!”

“You have the same mark,” Dustin breathed, eyes going wide. Billy stared at him, contemplating, before his eyes slowly widened. Steve furrowed his brow, not getting it.

“What?” Billy took a step away, looking ready to run, which was so different from only moments before that Steve was feeling weirder than he had about carrying a dead monster.

“Remember when you showed me your mark,” Dustin said, speaking fast, “I would recognize it fucking anywhere--”

“Max,” Billy snapped, breath coming in shorter, “We’re fucking leaving.”

“No,” she said, anger barely restrained. “Fuck you, Billy! We’re doing something important.” He grit his teeth, turning his back on Steve, looking right at her. Dustin looked between him and Steve, before his face hardened and he yanked up Billy’s shirt, mark on display.

Steve couldn’t fucking breathe.

“Fuck off, shithead!” Billy said, wrenching away from Dustin and shoving him back, though the push was weak. He turned back to Max, not once looking at Steve, who was still staring, mind wrapping itself around Billy having a crown. A crown with a wave circling it. Of Billy, the total womanizing douchebag, having his mark. “Maxine, Neil and Susan want you home, we’re leaving.”

“Wait,” Steve said. It was quiet, but it cut through the room. Billy tensed, not turning around. Steve wanted to ask, wanted to show Billy his mark, wanted to figure out what the fuck was happening, but they didn’t have time. Mike tensed up, already knowing what Steve was going to ask. “Guys, I think--”

“No!” Mike cried. “No, we’re not telling him!”

“He’s not gonna leave without Max,” Steve snapped, finally getting up. Billy had retreated slightly, still twitching with anger, but his curiosity was starting to win out. “And,” he sighed, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but if we tell him, we’ll have another person to go with us and--” he let out another sigh, “We’ll do your plan. In the tunnels.” The preteens exchanged glances and huddled together. There was intense whispering, one ‘ew,’ and then they were turning back.

“Nothing about-- You know,” Lucas said, miming a nosebleed. Mike looked unhappy, arms crossed as he hunched over, but he didn’t say anything.

“Fine, fine.” Steve rolled his eyes.

“What in the fuck are any of you talking about?” Billy snapped.

“Are we not going to discuss that you guys have matching marks?” Dustin said, clearly unable to read the room. It was like all the air had been sucked out, like the eye of a storm.

“Dustin,” Steve said, voice restrained and even, “I seriously need you to drop it.”

“But--!”

“Drop. It.” Steve said through gritted teeth. Billy bristled and Steve’s eyes flickered over to him. He wasn’t looking back, just angrily staring at the floor. “Hargrove,” he said, and Billy still didn’t look at him. “This is gonna sound weird, and you aren’t gonna believe me, but--” He paused, not sure what to say. Then he remembered. “Follow me.” Billy looked at him then, eyes narrowed and wary, almost scared, and wasn’t that funny. Still, he followed, and while the kids moved to do the same, Steve glared them into submission. “You guys get the stuff ready, okay? You’ll just overwhelm him otherwise.” He couldn’t help it, he put his hand on Billy’s lower back, ushering him into the kitchen. Billy moved away, movements jerky. It felt like ice in Steve’s veins, but he could worry about his soulmate hating him later.

“So?” Billy snapped, licking his lips anxiously. “Show me.” Steve took a deep breath and pulled open the door of the fridge. The demodog spilled out, practically oozing onto the floor, and if it wasn’t the night it was, if hell wasn’t knocking on the door, Steve might have laughed at how bugeyed Billy went. “What the fuck?” He breathed, eyes darting between Steve and the monster. “What the fuck is that?”

“That,” Steve said, “Is a demodog. It’s a monster from a different dimension called the Upside Down. We gotta go kill and distract a horde of them so the chief can close the gate and kill their connection to the other side.” Billy stared at him, blinking. He pursed his lip, pointing a finger, before dropping both and looking at Steve like he’d grown a second head.

“What?”

“Essentially,” Steve said, glancing at the clock and noticing they needed to leave, “We gotta go distract and maybe kill a bunch of monsters or they’ll take over Hawkins. You in?” Billy stared at him, brow furrowed. Steve stared back, tired and ready to fight if he had to. Wondering about where that syringe went. Billy finally swallowed and looked away. His voice was low when he responded.

“You want me to come along?” He sounded almost shocked. “Even with--” He pursed his lips, going red. Like he hadn’t meant to bring it up, but also couldn’t stop thinking about it. Or maybe that was just Steve.

“Of course,” Steve said, scoffing a little. Billy frowned at him, looking defensive. Steve licked his lips, feeling bold. The night was already scary enough. “I’ve been crushing on you since you got here basically.” Billy’s eyebrows shot up and Steve looked at his shoes. There was demodog on them so he looked back up, but not at Billy. “Even though you were a total tool,” Billy scoffed, “You were smart and like, so much more than you let people believe.” Billy was silent and Steve chanced it, looking at him. Billy stared at him, face soft and open, at least more so than usual.

“Can I--” He licked his lips. “Can I see it?” Steve’s breath hitched and he swallowed, nodding. He untucked his shirt, hiking it up to show the left side of his ribs. Billy's thick hand splayed over it, thumb rubbing the mark. Steve shuddered, mouth parted slightly. His touch was electric, especially over the mark. Now that they knew, it made sense. King Steve, engulfed and protected by the rushing and wild wave that was Billy Hargrove. His breath hitched as he watched Billy stare, each rub of his thumb sending sparks through Steve. The mark looked right, now. Like it was meant to be there, bright against his pale, skin, marking him for the world to see as Billys Hargrove’s soulmate.

The thought of Billy belonging to him made him shudder again.

“If you guys are done being all sappy,” Mike Wheeler’s voice cut through the moment, shattering it like glass. “We could maybe, I dunno, go?” Steve pulled away, beet red, and Billy looked like he could strangle the kid. He had his lanky arms crossed, trying to look fierce, but Steve could see that he was scared. Worried about El. He sighed and gave Billy a loaded look, heading for the door.

“I’ll grab the axe from the shed, you kids pack up the car.” He looked at Billy. “Grab my bat will you?” Billy’s nostrils flared and he grinned, eyes alight.

“Sure thing, King.”

#harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #soulmate #soulmarks #anon #ask #prompt #the party

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naptoons · 4 years

Text

Confidently lost— Zion Kuwonu

Warnings: mild mature language

Theme: fluff.

Summary: Zion never let you smoke or drink he didn’t want you going through, but one day your mind becomes curious and you decide to try it. Only to fume Zion up in anger.

A/N: I apologize in advance if this is horrible but I’ve never drank or smoked before so I don’t know what the side effects are or how long it takes to get drunk or high so I apologize, this idea isn’t mine it belongs to @cncogirl18 post, so I hope it’s good and I apologize if it isn’t.

Prettymuch decided to gather only close friends to a private indie party for edwins 21st birthday. Of course they spammed you to hurry up and get to the house, disturbing you of your sleep. Twenty minutes later and here you were sitting in their living room with your legs on top of Zion’s one hand under your thigh the other drinking his selected brand of alcohol.

You’ve always been curious of the feeling of being drunk and high, never at the same time but seeing all of the members being cross-faded it didn’t look so bad. Being that you were underaged your couldn’t go out your way and try these things, but it seemed like today curiosity was going to kill the cat. Leaning your head on Zion’s shoulder his hand drapes on your lower back rubbing soft circles on your exposed back. Edwin and Brandon were having a karaoke moment in the living room stumbling over air and the carpet. Screaming until the veins printed on the canvases of their neck. Slurring over the lyrics they thought they were singing.

Zion lays a soft kiss upon your head tapping your thigh softly “let me get up real quick mamas, I gotta let simba out real quick” his voice haloed your earlobe. Nodding you lift your legs off him and on the floor, planting a kiss on your lips before he left you see nick cheering on Brandon. You saw the blunt in between nick’s hand. Smirking you scoot over to nicks side grab it from his fingers. Nick thinking it was Zion didn’t even question it. You inhaled the thick smoke, giving yourself a praise that you weren’t dying on the smoke, you then tried to be greedy and Inhaled another puff, that’s when you start choking.

Nick turns his head around slightly his eyes widen by the sight of the blunt in your hand “oh shit...” Nick comes to realization so you slowly get up from the couch and walk toward Brandon who is getting beer from the cooler you sneak behind him and grab one just before he closes the door.

Brandon turned around and jumps back “ Jesus y/n, you scared the fuck outta me” Brandon laughs, you being controlled by the weed but also because you thought it was funny you laugh way harder then you’re supposed to and Brandon catches you from falling over. “Are you okay y/n?” He questions very surprised from your current behavior.

“Yeah I’m fine” you finally answer, wiping your tears from your face. “ so what are you drinking?”

“ just a corona” Brandon looks for a cup while you sink over to the fridge grabbing a soda popping it and pouring the liquid into the cup, learning a trick from your friend you bang the cap on the counter pouring all of the beer’s substance in the cup then throwing the can away. “Brandon the cups are right here, I think you need to go back to the eye doctor” you scream, sipping the liquid in your cup in big gulps, I mean to be honest you were thirsty “are your that drunk?” You slur

“Shut the fuck up, you’re so annoying” Brandon laughs at your bickering, grabbing the cup he pours it in his cup half way, your eyes widen once you realize what you’re drinking isn’t a beer. You mixed liquor and soda together, shrugging your shoulders you just go back to the couch and nick is gone. Zion comes back in the house from walking simba, he smiles then winks at you as he heads to the kitchen to finish his food. You begin to feel a little loopy. But you kinda like the taste of the liquor. You get up to get another tiny bottle and see Edwin and Zion in the kitchen and him eating baby spinach talking and Edwin screaming his drunk lungs off.

You begin staggering a little before you could even get to the kitchen. You lean against the wall for support as you begin laughing hysterically at how Edwin almost tripped over the bottles on the floor. Zion looks over at you instantly, the color draining from white to red, filling his emotions with vexation. “Who the fuck got her drunk?!” Zion yells, Edwin screams but in a drunk tone “it wasn’t meeeee”

“Then who the fuck did it?!” Zion rushes over towards you, placing his hands on your lower back you throw your arms around his neck giggling “you smell nice baby” you slur, Zion really wants to give you a talk, but around you hes so gentle and soft just the thought of him making you cry rips him to shreds.

Nick comes out of the room scratching the back of his head and looks at Zion with a worried and guilty face “ so I thought it was you taking a blunt out of my hand when I was sitting on the couch but it was actually her and I didn’t notice it until after she had already smoked it” Brandon starts to nervously laughed as he explain how she got drunk “ so I saw her behind me and I didn’t know that she had got liquor or beer out of the cooler after I had got some I didn’t think anything of it because there were a couple of sodas in there too”

As badly as Zion wants to be mad at them, he knows he can’t hold them responsible because they wasn’t aware of what you were doing but you on the other hand he really was going to chew you out. Zion hooks his fingers under your thighs as he lives you up and you wrap your legs around his waist making your way to his room. Your wet eyelashes hit his neck his heart freezing and guilt placing you on the bed softly he pulls unties your shoes dropping them on the wooden floor. Making his way over to the nightstand for your makeup wipes.

“I’m sorry....I just wanted to try it” you slowly speak “it tasted really good and it looks so fun when you guys drink y’all look freeeeee” you giggle and hiccup at the end. Zion pulls off your eyelashes slowly while cupping you’re face and wiping your makeup off. “You’re so pretty....” you smile

“Nah, that’s all you mamas” Zion smiles, he begins doing your night routine “all jokes aside baby never drink or smoke again okay?” As if On time he holds the trash can to your height as you throw up everything you’ve ingested. Feeling lightheaded as you pop out on sweat, Zion wipes your face with a warm wash cloth. Zion gets up to walk in the bathroom to grab your toothbush. Placing the toothpaste on it then running your toothbrush under the water as he walks his way back to the bed you throw up yet again “I feel like shit” you groan

“ yeah I wonder why” Zion laughed he sits down on the edge of the bed “open mamas” you open your mouth as Zion helps you brush your teeth, after your done he give you an empty cup to spit. “I love youuuu” sleepily you’re imply. “ I love you more mamas” he screams from the bathroom he walks over to the bed taking his shirt off then he slide in the sheets pulling you towards him “ I promise I won’t drink or smoke again”

”hm, you better” Zion kisses the temple of your head softly as you slowly fall asleep in his arms.

#prettymuch #prettymuch imagines #zion kuwonu concepts #zion kuwonu imagines #zion prettymuch #zion kuwonu

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wkemeup · 5 years

Text

Soldat

summary: When a hydra agent finds a way to hack into FRIDAY’s system to trigger Bucky into the winter soldier, he nearly kills you. In the aftermath, he can’t begin to find a way to forgive himself. Not without your help.

pairing: bucky x reader

word count: 7,022

warnings: wintersoldier!bucky, self-hating!bucky, physical fights, lots of comfort and soft!bucky 🌸

author’s note: So this is my first time writing for bucky and naturally I go for the angst/comfort fic bc thats where my twisted soul is happiest. I’d love to hear what you thought if you read it!

Your back slammed heavy against the floor of the ring. It was the third time in as many minutes that you’d been thrown off your feet. You huffed the hair from your eyes, pursing your lips in a frown as you stared up at the man responsible for the current ache pulsing through your shoulders. Bucky shook his head, chuckling as dark hair swayed over his eyes.

“You’re getting soft, doll.”

“It’s an off day,” you grumbled. “You try sparring with a super solider the day after getting back from a month-long mission in Guatemala.”

“Excuses, excuses.”

Bucky turned his back to you as he reached for the water bottle sitting on the edge of the ring. His first mistake. You flipped onto your stomach, crawling along the mat until he stood close enough for you to swing your leg hard against the back of his knees, sending him tumbling to the floor. He let out a grunt at the impact. Hands grappled at his wrists, pushing them out to his sides and against the mat as your left leg swung over his waist to straddle him down.

He pushed up against you, but you dug your right knee into his hip bone and forced his arms back down. Bucky groaned, letting his head fall against the mat as he rolled his eyes.

“Wanna call me soft again, sweetheart?”

A bead of sweat dripped off the end of the baby hairs framing your face and fell against the floor next to Bucky’s head. He didn’t flinch, not even to tug at his wrists you kept bound against the mat. He could have escaped you easier than you’d admit with the strength of the serum running through his veins, but he stayed down. You raised an eyebrow at him, suspicious that he hadn’t tossed you off yet. A grin pulled at his lips, his eyes narrowing as they trailed over your face and down to where you sat against his waist.

“Not sure yet,” he said through a heavy breath. “Kinda like where it got me.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you pushed yourself off of him until you laid comfortably along matt next to him. Bucky adjusted his arms to rest his hands behind his head. The tips of his hair were wet with sweat, patches of his shirt damp from the last hour you’d spent pushing each other in the ring. It was a kind of routine you’d find yourself in at three in the morning. It was the only place Bucky had found peace when he first joined the avengers; told you as much a few months after you first met.

He was always one to keep to himself, that much didn’t surprise you, not with what he had been through. You had been working with the avengers for a few years before Steve brought Bucky onto the team. Most of your time was spent alongside Nat and Clint, being the only avengers without any superhero abilities other than your dashing good looks and assassin primed skill set. The gym was your home in the compound. It was where you spent most of your time. Whether it be training SHEILD recruits, pushing yourself in hand to hand with Nat, or running miles on the treadmill when the nights became too dark, which they often did.

It was also where you forged your friendship with Bucky.

You had caught him beating the life out of the fourth punching bag Tony had replaced in a week at nearly two in the morning. His back was to you, dripping in sweat, as his grunts echoed throughout the room. He had only been living in the compound for a few days, hadn’t so much as said a word to anyone other than Steve.

You had approached him slowly, wondering if he was there for the same reason you were. Who else would decide to work out at this hour unless they had some demons to fight off? It was the first time you ever saw Bucky flinch as you approached him, eyes wide, unsuspecting, as you held your hands up cautiously. You had pressed your lips into a tight smile, nodding towards the treadmill to signal where you’d be and he only nodded once before returning to the punching bag. The dark circles under his eyes didn’t go unnoticed, nor did the sunken, pale look of his skin. He was better at hiding his demons during the day, you thought. He didn’t acknowledge you again until the fifth time you ran into each other in the dead of night.

He didn’t speak to you but he helped correct your form on a move you had been working on endlessly with Nat but couldn’t seem to get right. He gestured the move for you, waiting for you to signal you understood before he went back to the punching bag. You had watched him with careful eyes, studying him more than the combat move he was instructing. Still, you kept your distance. You remembered what Steve had told you about him. You weren’t in the business of pushing people before they were ready. It would be another two weeks before he spoke to you for the first time.

He had called your name as you were on your sixth mile on the treadmill, not having noticed his presence behind you. It had only been half etched smiles or a nod in recognition before that moment. You had raised an eyebrow at him, shocked as how soft his voice sounded in comparison to his hardened exterior. You jumped off the machine, wiping your brow with the edge of your shirt. It was the first time he asked you to spar.

Sooner than you realized, you had become friends. He had learned to tease you when you’d accidentally go for his left arm in hand to hand, momentarily forgetting it was made of solid metal. He’d laugh when you’d pin him to the ground and spray water at you when you’d get a little too cocky about it. You’d spend hours sitting at the edge of the ring, drenched in sweat, talking about the team, how he really should give everyone a chance, how you’d grown to befriend Steve, and how you came to be a part of the team. Bucky would talk about the 40’s and his ma. He told you about his past, the things Steve didn’t dare to share with you and the disdain he carried for the scars along his shoulder. He’d tell you about the nightmares that used to bring him to the gym late at night. He’d tell you that he started to come even when the nightmares were absent because there was just something comforting about this place.

He didn’t tell you it was you.

He learned to find himself again in this gym, sparring with you, talking with you, evading his demons with you. The first day you saw him join the team for movie night, you almost choked on your popcorn. He sat down next to you, mumbled ‘what the hell is a hogwart,’ before he shoved his hand into your bowl of popcorn. When the rest of the team wouldn’t seem to evert their looks of complete shock, Bucky just shrugged and settled in next to you, asking a hundred questions about the movie. Sam had teased him about it, only for you to chuck the empty popcorn bowl across the room at him. Bucky had laughed so hard, he doubled over. Steve sat across the room with a beaming smile.

“You think Steve was right?” Bucky’s voice drew your attention back. You turned on your side to look at him, arm settling under your head to cushion against the hard ground of the ring. You narrowed your eyes quizzically and Bucky shrugged. “He keeps saying I need to get out more.”

You propped yourself up on your elbow. “What has you thinking about that?”

“He wants me to go on an undercover op next week. Requires blending in with the civilians.”

“You did a pretty good job of it in Bucharest,” you pointed out. He shook his head.

“This is different. I wouldn’t be just looking out for myself.” Bucky sighed, rubbing his face free of the sweat. “I’d have a mission again and people to watch out for. I’d had to keep myself in one piece or,”

“You’d have me to answer to,” you said, cutting him off with a lighthearted grin and poking him in his side. That got him smiling again. You plopped yourself back down on the mat, hair brushing up in a halo around your head. Your shoulder touched his and you tried to ignore the jolt of electricity fluttering across your skin.

Bucky chuckled. “Yeah I guess I would. Don’t want to see you mad, that’s for sure.”

“I’d have to beat you up again,” you teased, unable to control the grin on your face as you stared up at the ceiling. It was nearly impossible to suppress the laugh creeping up from your chest. You could tell he was looking at you, narrowing his striking blue eyes.

“Is that what you wanna call-“

A blaring siren cut Bucky off before he could finish. You jolted upright just as the lights went out, replaced by dim red and blue lighting along the outer walls. Bucky was on his feet before you could register what was happening. The siren was so loud; it was piercing. You winced as you felt the resounding horn in the back of your skull.

“FRIDAY!” you shouted, “What the hell is going on?”

“Not sure, Agent (Y/L/n),” the AI responded, her voice more panicked than you’d appreciate for a computer. “I think someone hacked into my system.”

“Is that even possible?” Bucky yelled towards you, hoping you could hear him over the sound of the siren.

“Not supposed to be!” You ran your hands through your hair, eyes scanning over the empty room. You gestured towards the door. “We should find the rest of the team. Make sure everyone’s alright.”

Bucky nodded, jumping over the ropes of the ring. You followed close behind, using the post the propel yourself above the barrier. Feet on the ground, you started jogging towards the exit when suddenly the siren ceased. You both pulled to a stop. A ringing was left in your ears in the siren’s absence. You and Bucky exchanged worried looks.

“I am delighted to see you again, soldat,” the voice said over the speakers in a thick German accent. You could vaguely register the subtle noise of the surveillance camera turning in Bucky’s direction. “I hope you’re still as capable as you once were. I suppose we will find out together.”

Bucky shook his head, his breathing picking up in pace. His right hand was shaking as he brought it to his mouth, rubbing anxiously at his lips.

“Oh God,” Bucky whispered in a shaky exhale. His eyes flickered over to you and the wave of panic across his face was enough to send a burning ache in your stomach.

“Bucky…” you started, though you couldn’t find the strength to finish. You knew about the trigger words, how Shuri had done her best to clear them from his head but she hadn’t quite figured it out just yet. He had been stable enough to return home with Steve, he had made so much progress, she was so close. But it wasn’t enough. She needed a few more months, Bucky would stay at the compound until then. It would be alright, Steve promised. No one knew the words; the book had been destroyed. The fear across Bucky’s face only reflected your own.

“Желание,”

“No,” Bucky groaned, stepping away from you, his hands flying to the sides of his ears as if that could shield him in some way. Finger nails dragging at his hairline.

“Ржавый,”

“This can’t be happening. This isn’t happening,” he mumbled frantically, his eyes squeezing shut. You stood only inches from him, your own hands hovering over his, terrified to actually touch him.

“Семнадцать,”

You reached out as Bucky started muttering to himself in Romanian, whispering frantically under his breath. Then the rise and fall of his chest started to pick up in pace and he squeezed his eyes shut, breaths coming in more labored. It was only then you finally allowed yourself to put your hands against his, begging him to look at you. His eyes shot open, a surge of panic coursing through them, as if he had forgotten you were right next to him, only a breath away from the monster he knew himself to be.

“What are you still doing here!” he yelled, shoving you aside. He pushed you with such force you stumbled back a few paces. He waved towards the door. “Get out of here, Y/n!”

“I’m not going to leave you, Buck!” You shouted back defiantly. You rushed back towards him, placing your hands on the side of his face, thumbs brushing hastily against his flushed cheeks. “I’m not leaving you alone like this. We’ll- we’ll figure something out.”

“Рассвет,”

Bucky winced, “I’ll hurt you.”

“I won’t let you.”

“Печь,”

Bucky let out a shout and collapsed to the ground. You tried to grab him before he did, but he was too heavy. You dropped down by his side, falling hard on your knees, as his hands started grasping at his sweats, desperately trying to find something to ground him.

“Please… go…” he begged, his voice hoarse.

“Девять,”

Bucky screamed again. This one sent waves of panic through your body. It was like he was in agony, in complete and unbearable pain, like he was strapped to that godforsaken chair in this very moment. You reached out to touch him but he swatted your hand away.

“Доброкачественный,”

“I will kill you, Y/n! Don’t you get that!” Bucky shouted, an aching pain lingering over his voice. “They will make me kill you! Please, I can’t… I can’t…”

“Возвращение на родину,”

You didn’t realize you were crying until you felt a tickling on your neck. It was excruciating, the very idea of leaving Bucky to suffer through this alone, to be dragged so far back under the surface he couldn’t breathe. What choice did you have? You were no match for the winter soldier. He had teased you about it in training, but he’d never once come at you with his full strength.

Pleading eyes looked up at you, tears threatening to cloud through the shades of blue. It was the only thing that could crumble your resolve. Fingers gently brushed against Bucky’s jawline, hands resting on his cheeks as you pulled him close, pressing your lips against his forehead. It was an intimate gesture, one you’ve never dared to do before this moment. He sighed against you, his own hands wrapping around your wrists. Hours could have passed by in that moment and still, it was gone too soon.

“It’ll be alright, you hear me?” you whispered against his skin. He nodded but you could feel the hesitation in his movement. “We’ll bring you back, Buck, I promise. We won’t let them hurt you.”

“Один,”

Fighting against every instinct demanding you stay, you took off running towards the doors of the gym. In the distance you could see Steve sprinting towards you, dressed in baggy sweatpants and his sleep shirt, shield in hand. He was shouting at you but you couldn’t quite hear him. You were only feet away from the exit when the doors slammed shut in front of you. Through the small window you could see Steve skidding to a stop on the other side.

“Грузовой вагон,”

You started pounding against the frame, shouting to Steve to open the goddamn doors. Panic started to creep its way through your veins. You hadn’t noticed Bucky had stilled behind you, not with Steve’s muffled shouts through the door, attempting to break through the barrier with his shield. Natasha was just over his shoulder, her gun aimed at the hinges, though both of you knew it would do little against Tony’s lockdown protocols.

“Доброе утро, солдат.” The voice echoing from the speaker chuckled. Nat’s eyes widened, staring off behind your shoulder. You turned around slowly, knowing exactly what you would find waiting for you and yet the shock of seeing him in such a state still sent a wave of pain through your chest.

“Я готов отвечать,” Bucky replied, his voice void of emotion. You didn’t know Russian, but this you recognized. Ready to comply. The man standing in front of you was no longer Bucky Barnes. He was not the man you had spent countless nights sparring with when the nightmares kept you up or the man who didn’t shy away when you found yourselves sitting hip to hip on the couch during movie nights. He was not the man who followed you to your room one night, sheepishly asking if he could stay with you when even the hours in the gym wasn’t enough to stop the terrors behind his eyes. He wasn’t the man you had found yourself falling for.

“Come home, soldat,” the voice purred through the speakers. “Kill anyone who gets in your way.”

Your eyes widened as Bucky took a step towards you. You hadn’t realized you backed up until your back touched the metal doors. Muffled shouting from the other end of the frame was all you could hear as Bucky stared you down, his eyes somehow duller in color, like the vibrancy behind them had been stolen from him. There were more people at the door now. Beams of light shining in through the window was enough to alert you that Tony had arrived. It wouldn’t be long until he could get the door open. You would just have to occupy Bucky in the meantime.

“Wanna spar?” Your voice was stronger than you imagined it would be. If there was a part of you that believed Bucky could hear you, it was naïve, you knew that; but it didn’t stop you from wanting to believe it. A deep breath filled your lungs. Then you charged.

Bucky was always faster than you, his reflexes smoother, more agile. It came with the serum, you supposed. You propelled yourself from the edge of the ring kicking against the post for momentum as you swung a fist at Bucky. There was no time to worry about whether you’d hurt him. He’d be able to hurt you a thousand times worse.

Bucky grunted as you plunged your elbow into his stomach. His hand snaked around your forearm and yanked it high above your head, using the advantage to punch you hard in the chest. The force of it sent you flying back several feet, your body falling hard against the floor, rolling over twice before you came to a stop.

You groaned at the impact. Your body was already sore before the soldier took his first swing at you from your sparring with Bucky. The burning ache in your chest was enough to outweigh the rest of the pain in your body. It was getting harder to breathe. You suspected you were down a rib. You gritted your teeth, closing your hands back into fists as you stood up.

Running towards Bucky, you let out a scream before you climbed up on his shoulders, using his thighs and hips as jump points. Wrapping your thighs tightly around his neck, you channeled Nat as best you could. Bucky started to flail under you, arms reaching up to drag you down. It didn’t take long before you felt the wall slam hard against your back, your head taking a good part of the hit.

Bucky grabbed you by your elbow and yanked you hard to the ground. Another hit to the side of your head. He waited as you scrambled to your feet, dizziness threatening to take you down before he did as you struggled to see straight. You held up your fists, took a swing, but he ducked it easily. He threw a punch square to your jaw, sending you stumbling back. He stalked forward and sent another to your left eye. Then to your stomach. Another to your side.

You were on the floor, blood dripping from your broken lips as you tried to push yourself back up to your feet through shaky arms only to collapse against the floor. The cool surface, a momentary relief. You glanced up at him, panting, struggling to breathe. He stared down at you, emotionless, expressionless, as his hair fell into his eyes. Slowly, metal fingers reached down and grabbed the collar of your shirt.

“B-Bucky…” you gurgled through the blood pooling in your mouth. He dragged you towards the wall where he held you up against it easily. Your eyes widened as the metal digits moved from the fabric of your shirt to the skin of your neck. “S-Stop…”

He didn’t flinch. Cold eyes stared you down as he started to put pressure to your neck. You gasped, hands flying up to his wrist.

“Bucky, p-please.” You could hardly breathe, let alone speak. Your words were barely intelligible to your own ears but the naïve part of you had hoped there was at least a small part of him that could still break free, that you wouldn’t have to die at Bucky’s hand, staring at the dark, twisted version of man you cared so deeply for. He had done it once before.

But you weren’t Steve.

His fingers curled tighter around your neck and you started to claw at his chest, his face, anything to make it stop. Heavy weights on your lungs. Unimaginable pressure in your head. It was worse than any nightmare you had ever woken from screaming your throat raw. Bucky showed no emotion as he drained the life from you. You tried to focus on the shades of blue as the darkness started to surround your vision, tunneling in until it was all that remained.

***

The soft sounds of a steady high-pitched beep rose you from your sleep. You groaned as you came to, dull aches throughout your body making it nearly impossible to move. You licked your lips in an attempt to moisten the dry, broken skin there, but winced as you did so, flinching back at the open wound. Opening your eyes, you were met with a blinding white room. It was a familiar one; one you had spent many nights in after grueling missions.

An empty chair sat to your left. A part of you, one bigger than you cared to admit, had hoped he’d be waiting for you to wake. You found yourself missing the sweet relief across Bucky’s face when he’d see you open your eyes for the first time after a mission sent you to this room. He’d be holding your hand, letting go nervously when you’d finally notice. He’d be here. He was always here. The empty chair was suddenly painful to look at.

Beyond the glass wall to your room you could vaguely make out several figures huddled in a corner. You narrowed your eyes in an attempt to clear up your vision. Steve’s shield draped along his back came into view, along with Natasha’s short, slim frame. They were both covered in purple bruising, a red gash evident across the top of Nat’s head, blood in Steve’s hair. Tony was throwing his arms about, his whole body moving with each word he said. He was angry.

A burning sensation stung in your throat as you swallowed. There was a remote around here somewhere, one that would call for Dr. Cho or someone, anyone, to come tell you what the hell happened. Your heart started to beat frantically the longer it took to find it.

Too many thoughts rushed through your mind at once. Where was Bucky? What happened after you blacked out? Was he still in the compound? Did he escape? God, did Hydra have him again? Where is the goddamn remote!

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes and suddenly it was impossible to breathe. The beeping on the machine was going haywire and you brought your hands to your throat. Your fingers pressed against a soft cushioning encasing your neck. You were suffocating. Ripping the brace away from you, tossing it far across the room did nothing to relieve the rapid breaths and pain filling your chest.

The door to your room swung open and suddenly there were three people surrounding your bed. Natasha was on your left, her hand brushing gently through your hair, whispering words you couldn’t quite make out. Steve was on your right, his hand carefully sneaking into yours as he wrapped both hands around it.

“Breathe, Y/n,” he said softly, giving you his trademark kind, reassuring smile. He nodded as you started to following his breathing the best you could. “Good. You’re doing good, Y/n.”

“B-Bucky?” You choked out. Your voice was nearly gone, broken and raspy as it came out, like it had been carved up and thrown through a blender. You swallowed, wincing at the pain. “W-where’s-“

“It’s okay, Y/n,” Steve cut you off to your relief. “He can’t hurt you.”

You shook your head franticly. You didn’t have the energy to breathe properly, let alone speak. You turned towards Nat, eyes pleading with her. She had known you the longest. Nothing got past her in this compound. She must know about you and Bucky, or at least, whatever you and Bucky were, what you thought – hoped – you were. You could barely define it yourself.

Nat studied you for a moment, eyes narrowing as she tilted her head in thought. She turned to Steve. “That’s not what she meant.”

Steve raised an eyebrow.

Nat sighed, her hand not leaving the crown of your hair for even a beat. Her nails ran gently along your hairline, lulling you back to ease. “She’s asking if he’s okay. She wants to know what happened.”

Steve nodded. “Right, ‘course. Buck’s fine,” Steve paused, pressing his lips into a thin line. “Well, as fine as you’d expect.” A nervous sigh. Then, “You gave us a scare there, Y/n/n. We were able to get through the door pretty soon after you blacked out, but it was close. Took us longer than I’d care to admit before we could knock Bucky out. Thankfully, once he came to, he was himself again. He took one look at you and headed straight to the safe room. He hasn’t come out since.”

“Cho gave him the all clear a few hours ago,” Nat added. “Tony’s been working with a team to track down whoever hacked into FRIDAY’s system. He’s already put in new protections to make sure it can’t happen again.”

You narrowed your eyes, confusion evident on your face. Why was Bucky still in the safe room if he was cleared?

Nat nodded, understanding you as she always did. “He almost killed you, Y/n. If there’s even a chance it can happen again, he’s going to keep himself locked in that room indefinitely. Bucky… He cares about you. I don’t think any of us will be able to convince him to leave that room.” She nodded towards Steve and Tony, who you now noticed was standing in the corner of the room with his arms crossed, observing. A scowl present upon his features.

“She’s saying you’re all that’s gonna convince him he’s not a blood thirsty killing machine,” Tony quipped. He pushed himself off the wall and started to pace around the room. Steve sent him a warning glare, which Tony brushed off with a scoff. “Look, we all know I hold no favor for Barnes and I don’t disagree with how he sees himself, but I know for a fact that’s not how you see him. Besides, that safe room is for emergencies, not a makeshift prison. If he wants to lock himself up, I’ll call the secretary and we’ll revoke his pardon.”

“Tony,” Steve warned again. Tony rolled his eyes.

“You get what I’m saying,” Tony said as he leaned against the edge of the bed. “You focus on getting better. Don’t worry about Barnes. He’s not going anywhere. When you’re ready, just know you’re gonna be met with a brick wall of self-hatred and man pain. That is, if you do wanna see him again after what he just did to you.”

“Jesus, Tony, she gets it,” Steve grumbled.

You nodded, knowing you’d be back at square one with Bucky after what happened. He’d be back to his old self; distant, withholding, untrusting. But you were patient. You’d wait for him.

***

Nearly a week later, your voice came back to you. Dr. Cho still kept you held up in the med bay to monitor the bruising on your throat and to check the damage to your windpipes. It hadn’t been as severe as they originally thought. Turns out it was mostly swelling and once it went down, breathing got a whole lot easier.

You stood at the edge of your bed, pulling a SHEILD crewneck over your head as gently as you could. It still hurt to lift your arms above your head, but if you spent one more minute in that damn hospital gown you were going to lose it. You sighed of relief as you bunched the fabric along your waist. A knock at the door caught your attention and you turned to find Steve standing in its frame.

“Heard you were being discharged,” he said. Though he wore a sheepish smile, there was a lingering concern behind his eyes.

“You wanna know if I’m going to see Bucky.” Your voice was still pretty raspy, but it sounded more like you. Almost as if you had just gotten over a bad cold. Almost.

Steve let out a nervous laugh, but he nodded. “Didn’t know if you wanted company.”

You smiled, crossing the room until you stood next to Steve. You placed your hand on his shoulder. “I’ll be okay, Steve. He won’t hurt me.”

“You seem pretty sure of that,” he said softly. It wasn’t accusatory. If anything, it was statement of relief, like he had been worried you would blame Bucky for what happened. That you would walk away and take with you any semblance of a normal life Bucky had started to know.

“I am,” you replied sincerely. “I know that if he was given the choice, if he had any control, he never would have hurt me, or you, or Nat, or any of us. Just gotta try to convince him of that, right?”

“Right.” Steve nodded. The smile he wore was still a little broken behind the eyes. You squeezed his shoulder and headed towards the elevator.

It was darker on the saferoom floor than you expected. Brick walls lined a single hallway, illuminated only by a string of floor lights. For claiming it wasn’t meant to be a prison, Tony sure was stingy on the lighting, you thought as you made your way down the long corridor.

At the end of the hallway was a massive metal door, bolts surrounding the frame and gears locking it into place. A touch pad was encased in the wall next to it. You tapped on the screen. An image of Bucky came into view. He was sitting at the far corner of the room on the floor, knees to his chest, hands wrapped up in his hair. He was so incredibly still.

“FRIDAY?” you called.

“Yes, Agent Y/l/n?” the comforting voice of the AI replied.

“Can he hear me in there?”

A soft beep rung out and a blinking red light appeared at the corner of the screen. You swallowed.

“Bucky?”

Bucky’s head snapped up, his eyes darting towards the door. You watched him on the surveillance camera as he shook his head, closing his eyes and put his head back to his knees.

“Bucky, please. Open the door,” you asked gingerly, your hand setting on the cool metal of the door frame, as if touching it would somehow bring him peace. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” he mumbled. It was soft, under his breath, but FRIDAY picked it up for you.

“I talked to Tony. I could have FRIDAY override the system, but I,” you paused, taking in a breath to calm your nerves. “I was hoping you’d let me in.”

You watched the screen as Bucky’s head lifted again. From this angle, it was hard to get a good look as his face, but his shoulders slumped. Slowly he stood to his feet, using the wall to help himself along. He took slow, steady steps towards the door until he froze.

“Why did you come here?” You could hear Bucky’s voice through the door, not needing the AI to amplify it for you. He sounded like he was on the verge of tears. “After what I did…”

“Bucky open the door,” you asked again more urgently, feeling the lump burn in the back of your throat. You needed to see him. Tears were prickling in your eyes as you glanced over at the screen. Bucky’s finger was hovering over the green button, but his hand was shaking. After several agonizing minutes, he finally pressed it.

A loud clicking sound echoed through the hallway until a final latch unlocked and the door popped open just wide enough to let a stream of light through. You wrapped your fingers around the edge and pulled it open.

A gasp caught in your lungs as you laid eyes on Bucky. You weren’t able to see it on the screen but he wore a massive cut along his cheek bone, one he probably endured while Steve and the team tried to take down the soldier. It had barely healed, which meant he was refusing treatment from Dr. Cho. The dark circles under his eyes were enough to tell you he had barely been sleeping.

His eyes were focused beneath your own. You wondered for a moment what he was staring at until you remembered the distinct bruising marks on your neck, ones you should have thought to cover up before coming to see him.

“Oh, God,” he whispered, unable to tear his eyes away. A subtle glassiness started to shine over the blue in his eyes. He clenched his jaw, dropping his head. “You shouldn’t be here, Y/n/n.”

“Stop that,” you said, taking a step towards him, knowing he’d only back away. It got you further into the room instead of standing at the door frame at least. “I’m fine, Buck. I’m healing.”

Bucky shook his head as he sat down at the edge of the bed. He ran his fingers through his hair. A nervous habit of his you had grown to recognize.

“I am. I’ve been waiting to get the clear from Cho to come see what the hell you’ve been doing down here for the past week,” you said lightly as you sat down next to him, hoping to get some kind of reaction. You didn’t expect him to turn back towards you with a glare

“How could you even stand to be in here?” Bucky snapped, his voice laced with venom as he stood up. He started pacing back and forth, tucking one hand into his pocket and clenching the other into a fist to stop the shaking. “How can you even bare to be in the same room as me after what I did to you? Are you that naïve? Is that it? Or are you just stupid?”

“Bucky,” you warned as he started chuckling to himself. It was humorless, his dark expression sending a wave of unease in your stomach. Not because you were afraid of him, but because it sat in such contrast to the man you knew.

“I almost killed you, Y/n! Don’t you get that!” Bucky shouted as he threw his metal fist against the wall. You flinched at the sound as Bucky pulled his hand from the crumbling hole. Small pieces of brick fell onto the ground. “You were within inches of your life and if Stark hadn’t broken down the door when he did, I would have succeeded! And- and you don’t even seem to care!”

“I care a lot, actually. I very much prefer being alive,” you replied sternly, folding your arms over your chest.

“Then what the hell are you doing here!” Bucky exclaimed. “Being around me is a death sentence!”

“You know why I’m here, Barnes,” you said slowly, your voice as steady as you could manage it. Bucky stared at you, waiting for you to back down, for you to turn away, or take it back, but you didn’t budge. He knew exactly what you meant. It was the reason why you had fallen into place so easily together, the reason why it was so easy just being around one another, the reason why he was the first person you sought out when you were met with your demons in your sleep.

The reason why he never once turned you away.

Bucky closed his eyes, his body slowly letting go of the tension he carried. He shook his head, clenching his jaw.

“I’m a monster, Y/n/n. You can’t want that.”

“Good thing you’re not a monster then,” you said gently. You stood, slowly moving across the room until you were right in front of him. His eyes were trained on the floor, his hair falling into his face. You moved your hand forward incredibly slow, enough that he would see it coming and he could back away if he needed to. When he didn’t, you let your fingers brush against his, tapping against them until he opened the palm of his flesh hand to you, allowing you to intertwine your fingers.

“You are a good man, James Barnes,” you said. You used your free hand to brush away the hair from his face, tucking it behind his ear. “You did everything you could to keep me from getting hurt. You begged me to leave when I had the chance. I know the last thing you wanted was to hurt anyone. I know that.”

Bucky nodded, his eyes slowly moving up to meet yours, though he froze on the bruising along your neck. Instinctively his metal hand reached up to touch it, but he pulled back the second he realized what he was doing.

“Buck, it’s okay,” you whispered, giving him a slight nod.

Bucky licked his lips nervously. His hand moved at agonizing pace until he let it sat against your collarbone. He swallowed, his eyes darting up to yours as if he was seeking permission. You smiled encouragingly and nodded. He bit on his lower lip as his fingertips brushed against the bruising; dark purple and blue in the shape of his own hand.

“Does it hurt?”

You shook your head. Bucky let his hand fall back to his side. When he started staring at the floor again, you squeezed his hand, hoping to bring him back.

“Bucky, I-“

“I can’t ever lose you,” he said suddenly. “You know that, don’t you?”

“Of course, Buck,” you replied gently.

He nodded nervously. You could feel him squeezing and releasing your hand repeatedly, like it was a calming mechanism for him. He lifted his head, bringing himself to meet your eyes. You swore every ounce of pain you had in your body left the moment you found vibrant shades of blue staring back at you.

“When I saw what I did to you… I thought that I…” Bucky pressed his lips together, unable to finish the thought. He sighed, trying to pull himself back together. “I don’t have a lot of good in my life. I haven’t in a long time. But then Stevie found me and he convinced me to come with him and join this ridiculous group of people and… and then I met you.”

You felt your heart skip a beat as Bucky gently set his hand against your cheek, the cool metal sitting in contrast to the warmth of your skin.

“You are what’s good in my life, doll,” Bucky said, his voice just above a whisper, like the words had fallen in a gentle exhale, like it was relief just saying the words aloud. “I can’t ever lose you. Not like that. Not by my own hand.”

“I know,” you sighed, your hand reaching up to hold his wrist as his thumb brushed against your cheekbone. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You made that pretty clear,” Bucky said with a soft chuckle. You had almost forgotten how sweet he sounded as he laughed. “Don’t think I’ll ever stop being surprised at that.”

“You find it so hard to believe I want to be around you?” you asked, a smirk behind your lips.

“I find it hard to believe you want someone as damaged as me, doll.” His voice was soft, teasing, with a half-etched smile but it fell away quickly. He swallowed.

There was something so incredibly comforting about standing this close to Bucky, hands intertwined, the brush of his cool metal fingers against your flushed cheeks. He brought you the kind of relief you had never been able to find at the bottom of a bottle or at the end of your fist. This man, who thought so little of himself, was more to you than you’d ever be able to admit aloud. The way he was touching you, comforting you, in the silence of the saferoom was the most intimate contact you’d allowed for yourself in years. There had been men, but none like Bucky, none that you’d let stand this close and watch you through kind, nervous eyes.

“I’ll always want you, Buck.”

It was the easiest thing you’d ever said.

Bucky exhaled, like he had been holding his breath for days. A sad smile urged to lift the corners of his lips though it didn’t quite make it. It’d take longer than a few stolen moments in the privacy of this saferoom to convince him he deserved what you longed to give him. His hand snaked around to the back of your neck, pulling you closer towards him until his lips sat against your forehead. He didn’t let go, not for a while.

For now, it was enough.

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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“We Have Just Never Listened to Women”: Patrick Ness on Chaos Walking’s Relevance Today

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Patrick Ness’ 2008 science fiction young adult novel The Knife of Never Letting Go was published the same year as Suzanne Collins’ The Hunger Games, but while the latter launched a dystopian YA franchise, Ness’ Chaos Walking series seemed to attract more of a cult following despite tackling similar early-2000s issues through a speculative lens. While Collins struck an arrow through the heart of reality television, Ness turned his attention to information overload, manifesting it as the Noise: an ever-present broadcast of one’s most private, cringeworthy, hateful, earnest thoughts for all to hear—but only for men.

On the “New World,” an alien planet only recently colonized by humans, the all-male settlement of Prentisstown has ascribed varyingly demanding interpretations of masculinity and morality to their members’ handling of the Noise. Todd Hewitt, the community’s sole boy, must come of age when he faces something even more chaotic than his Noise: the first girl he’s ever seen, a silent space traveler named Viola.

Over a decade later, the book’s dual commentary on information overload and toxic masculinity remains relevant. In fact, as Ness told Den of Geek, the intervening 13 years have only provided more dire inspiration for adapting his novel to the big screen. Doug Liman’s adaptation of Chaos Walking, starring Tom Holland and Daisy Ridley, finally arrives in the UK (it hit the US last month) after a perfect storm of delays, from scheduling around two of the biggest franchise stars to dealing with COVID-19 setbacks. The film conjures a similar lo-fi dystopian setting as Gary Ross’ The Hunger Games film while transforming the book’s free-associating monologue into an ever-present visual and aural halo—not unlike the information overload depicted in more tech-y futuristic tales.

In addition to the forceful depiction of the Noise, Ness spoke with Den of Geek about the book dog’s Noise that didn’t make the final cut, the Western homages behind Mads Mikkelsen’s villainous Mayor Prentiss, and what happens when men don’t listen to women.

DEN OF GEEK: When you first wrote The Knife of Never Letting Go, it was a response to information overload circa 2007. What was it like revisiting the story to adapt it over a decade later?

PATRICK NESS: Gosh, just that the world has gotten so much noisier—that there’s just so much more information coming at us. If the original idea was about questioning how much of ourselves we feel obliged to share and give to the world, that question has only become—not more serious, but we now do it so automatically that I just want to be sure that we keep asking that question: What are we losing, and how much of ourselves do we need to keep our sense of identity? The other big thing that’s happened in the last 13 years is that we’ve all gotten so used to sharing on social media—we’ve gotten so used to what it does, that it’s such a fabric of our lives—that people have now recognized, “I can abuse this. I can use this to tell lies; I can use this to make fake enemies; I can use this to manipulate elections”—for example. The genie isn’t gonna go back into the bottle, and I’m not some doomsayer saying we need to go back to phones and blah blah blah. We need to not forget that we have a choice of what to share and that there are—for all the good things the Internet brings us, which it does—we should not and must not ignore the darker parts of it, because there are very dark parts of it.

That darkness is especially apparent in the culture of Prentisstown and their need to control the Noise. In adapting, did you find yourself approaching Prentisstown differently than when you wrote the book?

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