#RIP Triggerman. (Rest In Pieces)

[theflowerofthecommonwealth]

Dad of the year right here.

His kitten daughter being in danger activates his Papa Bear Fury.

(Apologies for the bad quality and the cutoff of the sound at the end, Tumblr insists on having them both no matter what I do)

[cowgremlin11]

For vikdecai ideas/prompts:

Mordecai 'visits' while Viktor is still healing from a wound, maybe it's vague on whether he actually did it or not as it's from Viktors perspective who might not have a clear head at the moment

Mordecai meets Viktor after the kneecapping incident, things are very very awkward and tense and neither of them are happg about it but for whatever reason they can't fight right now (maybe both are in a position where they can't currently give their location away by yelling at each other)

anon your BRAIN.

anyways i did the first one since i could have fun fucking w viktors head :) its pretty loose cus Someone Is Having A Sick

ficlet under the cut hehe

Viktor’s stuck at home after taking a bullet to the chest. He’s lucky to be alive is what he was told. Viktor stubbornly believes that he can do his job fine, but the horse doctor Mitzi called to the scene had given him strict orders to stay home and let himself recover. He isn’t happy about the situation, but he’ll rest if it means everyone gets off his case about it.

It’s honestly awful being all alone like this. Yes, he hates the way noise incessantly chatters on, but dead silence is far more grating right now. The emptiness of it all makes him feel like he’s going to lose his mind. It leads to his thoughts running wild as Viktor desperately tries to catch them before he falls into a depressive spiral.

As of late he’s been failing at the task of wrangling his own mind. He ends up thinking of all he’s lost. He thinks of the things that were taken from him. The honourable man he once was. The family he tore from his own hands. The happiness he once felt. Everything had been ripped to pieces over the years by himself and the people he once knew.

Mordecai was the one who took the most from him that day he left a bullet in Viktor’s knee. Mordecai’s the reason he’s stuck standing behind that damned counter. Mordecai’s the reason he’s been in this downward spiral for the past few months.

It’s not like he enjoys thinking about what Mordecai did to him, but sometimes his mind has other plans. Every time his mind lands on his old partner he starts out angry, but then his thoughts begin to trickle down into the fuzzy memories of their time together.

He likes remembering how it felt to hold the smaller one close to his chest. The intimacy of when they would press their foreheads together. The smell of a warm breakfast in the morning. The sound of rain drumming against the window.

He misses his old partner every day. He can’t help it. They had a real connection that he’s never had or will ever have again. They’re completely different ends of a spectrum the way left is to right, north to south, yin to yang; both opposite but reliant on the other. That's how they worked so well in the past, after all.

He’d give anything to see Mordecai right now. He’d rather spend the awful weeks of recovery ahead with Mordecai at his side. He just wants to hear that familiar-

Ra-ta-ta.

Viktor shakes his head. He must’ve just been hallucinating that knock. But again— Ra-ta-ta. More urgently— Ra-ta-ta.

“Viktor, it’s me. Open the door.”

The voice is all too familiar to him. Smooth with no discernible accent, but so distinctly the voice of the black and white triggerman who’s running from his past. Viktor’s heart tightens with a myriad of emotions.

Viktor tries to sit up, but Mordecai’s already walked into the flat. Had the door been unlocked? Viktor rubs his remaining eye and struggles to recall what he has and hasn't done. He looks up and focuses on the image of Mordecai Heller. He looks the same as he did all those months ago: beautiful.

Mordecai stands a few feet away and gives him a once over. “I heard about your injury,” he says.

Viktor just keeps staring in awe. He doesn’t know what to say at the moment. He’s just stuck sitting in his chair with a dumb look on his face. It’s more so the fact that Mordecai’s here at all that has him so stunned. He’s dressed in what Mordecai considers casual: a nice button up, a crisp tie, silk pants, and his business shoes. Can’t forget his classic pince-nez pinching his muzzle to stay in place.

He should punch those glasses right off his face, but he can’t bring himself to it.

“Vhat are you doing here?” Viktor asks with a rasp to his voice.

Mordecai doesn’t answer him. Instead, he feels Viktor’s cheek and forehead to check his temperature.

“Have you been taking care of yourself? Ugh, you haven’t changed one bit,” he says with an annoyed tone. “Stay there, I’m sure you haven’t been eating as well as you should be. I’ll make you something.”

Viktor’s ears flick back grumpily as he watches Mordecai go to the kitchen. He can sit and sulk all he wants, but he has to admit to himself that he’s missed the fussing. He’s missed their time together. He’s missed Mordecai.

But Mordecai doesn’t come back with anything. He doesn’t come back at all; the flat is quiet once more. Viktor is alone with the painful memory of a love he once had, and the strain of a bleeding lung.