#ive been looking at his drawings non stop for 8 hours now

[im-fucking-baalin]

going to start screaming actually

[perlelune]

Oxytocin | Coriolanus Snow | iv.

One act of kindness from a peacekeeper may be your salvation or your doom. Possibly both.

Warnings: NON-CON, Blackmail, District 8 Reader, Stalking, Kidnapping

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

A smile blooms on your lips as you watch Tilly play hopscotch with her friend near the street. Snow’s melted enough this morning to be able to draw chalk patterns on the cobblestones. The young girl woke up excited to enjoy the day. And while you’re nowhere as thrilled, seeing the joy and life return to her gaze is more than enough for you. 

The little girls’ buoyant laughs fill the street and you let yourself bask in the moment. It’s rare that you get time to yourself lately.  Your shifts at the factory take up most of your time. And you’ve been spreading yourself thin, hoping to keep concerns at bay by remaining busy. White wisps surround you as you blow a long breath. You readjust your scarf and rub your gloved hands. Cold air seeps through the tiny holes in your gloves. You’ll need to stay after hours on your next shift to mend them. Perhaps you could even purloin enough throwaway remnants of wool to make Tilly a new pair. She’ll soon outgrow hers.

Besides, her health might have improved for now, but you never stop worrying about her catching another cold, one that might be deadlier than the last.

Lost in contemplation, you draw a sharp breath when an object drops from the sky onto your lap. Your eyes widen as you lower them. A pair of knitted gloves rests in your lap. They’re clearly brand new and the wool quality is unlike anything you’ve ever laid eyes on. You can tell from the thickness and vibrancy of the twining threads. You’re tempted to give it a brush with your fingertips, revel in the warmth oozing from the fabric. But you refrain.

“I don’t want that,” you snap, whipping your head up.

A towering, lanky frame clad in the peacekeeper’s signature blue uniform fills your sight. 

You toss the gloves at him and he catches them with a deep sigh. He sits near you on the steps. The hairs on the back of your neck bristle with his proximity, his broad shoulder grazing yours as he turns to study you.

You shiver as his gaze runs along your frame. You don’t look at him. You don’t want to. You’ve done your best to forget about him these last few weeks, even if his ever-lurking presence is hard to ignore. Whatever you do, wherever you are, he’s never hovering too far away.

He seizes your hands, forcefully slipping the gloves on your frostbitten fingers.

“Come on, you’re freezing,” he says. Your lips tighten as you meekly comply. Arguing with the peacekeeper has never worked in your favor. So why even try? You let him put the gloves on you, cursing the comfort you feel when the warm fabric hugs your fingers. An absent thought drifts in your head as you admire the wool. You never owned anything this nice. The quality evokes the clothes that usually head straight to the Capitol.

All the nice things go to them first while District dwellers beg for scraps.

Coriolanus leans back, his large hands spreading over his knees. His stance is far too relaxed for your taste and you shrink further on your side of the narrow stairs. 

As his icy blue orbs settle on your cousin and her friend, you tense.

“She seems to be doing well. I’m assuming the medicine helped,” he notes, smugness oozing from his words. His attention scorches your skin as you pointedly evade his stare. You loathe the satisfaction he draws from this. More leverage to use against you. More opportunities to make you feel small, helpless.

“What are you doing here?” you curtly ask.

His small chuckle makes your stomach coil.

“Is this any way to greet a friend?” His tone becomes light, playful. “Especially one that comes bearing gifts?” 

Your brows knit. “Friends…”

Hot air tickles your earshell as he bends over you, whispering, “The closest of friends.”

Your heart skips a beat.

He grabs your chin, angling your face towards his. A shuddered breath leaves your lips as stark blue eyes drink you in. “Really birdie, not even a smile? Come now.”

You nudge a tremulous smile onto your lips. 

His thumb grazes your trembling bottom lip as his mouth twists skyward. “Better,’ he praises quietly.

A winning glint sways in his eyes and your stomach lurches. 

“Hi!”

Tilly’s cheerful voice shatters the moment. Coriolanus releases you and relief billows inside your chest. 

He beams at the young girl, replying in a similar tone, “Hi.”

Your young cousin bounces on her feet, excitement rounding her gaze as she admires  the peacekeeper. Your frown deepens at the exchange.

“I’m Tilly,” she announces solemnly, offering her hand to shake.

Coriolanus laughs as he takes it, mirth lighting up his handsome face.

“I know. I know all about you.” A mix of shock and awe decorates the young girl’s features with that information, as if the peacekeeper knowing anything about her was the most extraordinary thing in the world. “I’m a friend of your cousin. My name’s Coriolanus.”

“Coriolanus,” she repeats, as if mesmerized by the sound of his name alone.

“Here. I have something for you,” he says. 

He reaches inside the pocket of his uniform and pulls out a bag. Your cousin jumps, her eyes sparkling with joy when he hands it to her.

“Candy!” she exclaims. 

Your face pinches at the sight of the colorful sweets in the bag. These aren’t easy to acquire. 

“Tilly…”

“What?”

The young girl’s expression is dejected as she looks at you, almost like she can sense your disapproval and is preparing to return the gift. Your shoulder sag. You don’t have it in you to refuse her this small sliver of delight. 

You shake your head and smile.

“Nothing.” You hunker in front of her. “We should go back inside.”

“But I want to play…” she pouts.

“You have chores. And Coriolanus…” Your eyes lift to him. Amusement hasn’t left his expression. “is very busy.”

He doesn’t say anything as you shove your cousin inside the house. He lingers by the door and you fidget beneath his heavy stare.

“I’m guessing you have…somewhere to be.”

His gaze drags over you as a small smile dances on his lips.

“Yes, I hear I’m very busy,” he teases. Shock fills you when he leans to brush his mouth against your cool cheek. “See you soon, birdie,” he mumbles, his deep voice making your stomach flutter.

You’re relieved when he finally leaves. You chase away the peculiar sensation his closeness sparked as you shut the door.

You don’t get time to collect yourself,  your little cousin immediately asking, “Is he your boyfriend?”

The pitch of your voice goes high with shock. 

“What? Are you crazy?”

Tilly frowns. “But I saw him kissing you.”

Heat nestles in your cheeks. Maybe from an outsider’s perspective, Coriolanus’ closeness could be misinterpreted, the peacekeeper perpetually crowding your space despite your reluctance. Still, you can’t believe it’s what the little girl thinks from looking at the two of you. 

It couldn’t be further from the truth. 

Every fiber of your being burns with hatred for him.

“No, we weren’t. It wasn’t…” you sputter, your embarrassment cresting as the excitement in your cousin’s eyes doesn’t dwindle. “He wasn’t kissing me. We were just talking.”

“About girlfriend and boyfriend stuff,” she insists. 

You sigh. You approach her and grip her shoulders. 

“Tilly, I need you to promise me something.”

She blinks up at you. “Yes?”

You crouch before her so you’re at eye level. 

“You need to stay away from peacekeepers.”

She purses her mouth, glancing down at the bag of candy.

“Yes, but Coriolanus…he was nice to me.”

Your stomach sinks.

“Well, Coriolanus isn’t like the others.”

She nods in understanding. You’re glad she doesn’t ask any further questions. You wouldn’t know how to begin to explain your relationship with him.

Not in any way that makes sense at least.

For a fortnight, you don’t see much of him. You bask in the tranquility of your usual routine, going back and forth, from home to work, and preparing to celebrate the end of the year with your cousin. It won’t be lavish, of course, but you’re hoping to save up enough from your wages to get Tilly a teddy and perhaps even a toy this year.

While most of your family has passed away, you want to cherish the things you still have. Perhaps you can even create new memories for your cousin, happier memories. She has been bedridden for months now and it’ll be the first holiday she’ll get to truly enjoy as a healthy, normal child. 

He appears again as you’re working your usual shift, casually switching places with another guard. While you pointedly avoid looking in his direction, you feel the weight of his unwavering eyes, watching you as always.

Still, you diligently weave the silk on your loom. Your attention cannot stray. One mistake and the fabric will be ruined. 

“Your shadow’s there,” Yara notes from her station right next to yours.

Your eyes flick upward briefly as you nod.

“Yeah.”

Silence hangs in the air a while before your friend speaks again.

“It doesn’t seem to bother you that much.”

You shrug. “I’m getting used to it.”

Her eyes land on the gloves peeking from the pocket of your long skirt.

“By the way, I meant to ask…Is that from him?”

You hesitate a little before begrudgingly admitting, “Yes.”

She moves her head in acknowledgement. 

“I see, gifts now.”

Stepping on the treadle to slow down the motion of your loom, you snap your head to Yara.

There was something in her tone just then, an implication you didn’t like.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

She shakes her head and scoffs, “It’s just interesting, is all.”

“My hands were cold,” you defend.

“You could have thrown them away. I made my own. It’s what we do every year. Make our own.” Her gaze locks with yours. Licking her lips, she seems to mull over something before she asks,  “Is there something going on between you two? I mean other than what I already know.”

Your face grows hot.

“There is nothing.”

She studies you for a few minutes before turning her focus back to her loom.

“Right,” she says.

Your annoyance mounting, you give the treadle a vigorous push and start weaving faster.

You let your friend’s prickly comments fade somewhere in the back of your mind. You have no desire to explore this dangerous line of thought any further. 

There is indeed nothing going on between you and the peacekeeper. You keep repeating it to yourself as your fingers assemble the threads as if your life depended on it. 

It helps you ignore the way your blood races in your veins.

Relief fills you when your shift ends. Tension built in your body and firmly remained since Yara began questioning you. You can still feel it in the stiffness in your limbs, the heaviness in your chest. You make haste as you dart across the hallways, eager to return home.

Your escape is halted by a pair of strong arms pulling you in a dark corner of the factory. 

You look up at him through wide eyes. That teasing smile you’ve grown all too familiar with decorates his lips.

“Why the rush, sweet bird?”

“Coriolanus…” You step back from him. “Can’t you just leave me be, just once?”

He approaches you, forcing you to shrink against the wall. He cages you, his hands on each side of you as he drinks you in. You dip your head, overwhelmed with the scent of roses washing over you. 

“I can’t actually.” Warmth swirls in your belly as his tone lowers. “Look at me.” He puts two fingers below your chin to angle it upward. His eyes narrow. “You’re upset.”

“Just had a long day,” you elude with a shrug. 

He scrutinizes you. Your mouth quakes, his silence unnerving you. 

After some time, he finally announces, “I’m getting discharged soon.”

“Oh, where?”

“I’m getting sent back to the Capitol.”

You gape at him. That’s not what you expected to hear. Though you surmise it makes sense, with him being around less. A strange mix of feelings surges inside your chest. But mostly, relief, freedom. You’ll be able to breathe properly again, without the uneasy attention of the peacekeeper tailing you everywhere you go. 

Though you try not to let your emotions show. You give a tilted smile.

“Isn’t that a good thing? You get to go home, return to your life.”

His knuckles sweep over the apple of your cheek. 

“Well…I’ll miss some things about District 8.”

You clear your throat. “I should get back home.”

“Meet me tonight,” he says bluntly. 

“What for?”

His eyes darken, running over your trembling frame. His thumb skims over your bottom lip.

“I’m leaving. We should celebrate, just the two of us.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. You truly hoped to avoid…colliding with the peacekeeper again, in any way, but you suppose it was inevitable. One way or another, he’d have asked for more of you, simply because he could. Your fate is in his hands after all. He could easily make your life here hell just by whispering in the right ears.

Still, you can’t help voicing a feeble protest.

“Is that necessary?”

His eyes flare with danger. Your breath snags as he grips your jaw, his fingers digging painfully into your cheeks. Your pulse thrums beneath his palm.

“I don’t want to be mean to you right now, so don’t make me.” Though his tone is soft, his expression is harsh and inflexible. “Just do as I say.”

You give a shaky nod.

“S-See you tonight.”

He releases your face and you take a deep breath. His crooked smile is wide and victorious as he hops away from you.

“I look forward to it, sweet bird.”

You put a hand on your chest as he disappears, willing your thundering heart to slow down. You find comfort in a single thought. At least, after tonight, you will finally be rid of the peacekeeper.

[hecohansen31]

Not The Right Time

The Story Of How He Found Out:

Ivar+Reader (Modern! AU)

(Chapter 1: The Story of How We Ended Up There)

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

I know it’s been a long time since I post this series, and I just wanted to also thank you for the warm welcome you showed it, I was immediately prompted to write more since I felt like it was very wanted.

I am also glad I was able to portray such a theme in the best way, enough not to seem judging or annoying and I am going to repeat that if you feel judged even in the slightest, please let me know and tell me what I could do to make it better.

I hope you’ll like it, again and any feedback is more than welcome!

Have a nice reading!

SUMMARY: It isn’t coincidence anymore when Destiny is trying its best to push you together, even exposing your ‘small secret’ to Ivar.

WORDS: 8 K

WARNINGS: Pregnancy, Unexpected Pregnancy, Pregnancy at a Young Age, Mention of Abortion (and Being Harsh About it), Heartbreak and General Angst, Abandonement Issues and Being A Single Mom, Mention of Infertility, Talk about Custody Battles and Custody, Use of The World ‘Cripple’.

Ivar had a hate-love relationship with taking care of his nephew and niece.

He certainly hated being waken up at 8 p.m. on a luxurious Saturday morning just to babysit his brother’s children, meanwhile he and Torvi went ‘shopping for the newest arrival’, which meant they would probably screw around the entire day.

But he loved the way his niece and nephew’s eyes would light up softly as they came to him, immediately almost tackling him to a ground in a way that made him want children of his own.

Had he ever been able to have one…

Freydis hadn’t been there when the call had arrived.

He remembered she had to go through some treatments and although he had insisted to go with her, she hadn’t wanted him.

‘It’s just… womanly things… I would feel more comfortable going alone’ and he had immediately respected the wishes of his goddess.

So, in the end, he was extremely grateful for the children’s company who had convinced him to drive to another park from the one near his house, because… ‘this one was better, uncle Iv’.

He drove there and let the children quickly spatter themselves around, after they had both thanked him with a quick kiss, keeping an eye on them, not wanting to let them wander too far away:.

Once Hvitserk had been tasked with the ‘babysitting’ since Ivar was busy with some medical visits and he had come back home without the children.

Thankfully the McDonald’s employees had called Torvi and Ubbe immediately, after they had found their children in the fast food restaurant …

He got his phone out, since he thoroughly hated to acknowledge the stares people always sent his way when this happene.

Some would eye him as if they were worried he would grab their children and run, but the actual worst was when they would stare at him with soft pity in their eyes.

So, he preferred to check his phone, shooting a small look at the children who were running freely, around the small park, over the slide and in the little sand box.

And then he saw you.

You weren’t in your job uniform, a loose sweatshirt and a pair of skinny and worn out jeans with some rips on the knees, the entire outfit completed by a pair of dirtied sneakers.

Your hair was in an high ponytail as your eyes sprinkled over the park.

He didn’t know how you could be so fascinating even in that ‘worn out’ mise, but as you turned lightly to him, he was finally able to understand why: your smile was the prettiest thing he had ever seen, and almost attracted by it, he got up and moved to you.

He didn’t know why he did it, but he just felt like seeing you closer, discovering that you hadn’t lost the little moles under your nose and your nails were still painted of the brightest colors, after all this time.

You also hadn’t lost the lovely curves you always had owned, but they fell in a different and more mature way now.

He stopped staring at them as you raised your face meeting his gaze.

And immediately that smile disappeared from your face.

And Ivar didn’t know what to say.

His curiosity had gotten the best of him, but now that he was in front of her, he didn’t know what to do.

So, he went with kindness.

“… hey” it was a weak mumble, but it was all he could utter, as you shieded away your gaze from him, definitely nervous and at unease “… I swear I am not stalking you!”.

“Are you sure, Ivar Lothbrock?” the way you taunted him with his name and his surname made a shiver appear on his back, as it moved down its spine disappearing under his skin “… we haven’t met each other in five years and then suddenly… we met each other two days in a row?”.

“… well that might indeed make you doubtful, but I come bearing good intentions” he prompted immediately, raising his hands and a small laugh came onto your face “Maybe you should take it as a sign that we need to seriously take that coffee, one day”.

“Too busy” you tutted lightly as you shook your head, your small smile becoming algid cold and he knew better than to insist, although his body wanted nothing more than to meet you again.

But he just didn’t understand this impulse.

Why, most of all, it happened when he was happily tying the knot with his lovely fiancée?

He was even trying for a child, undergoing hours and hours of physical and psychological therapy.

Still, how did they say?

You could never forget your first love.

“… I know that we didn’t leave on the happiest note” he mumbled not even truly knowing why he was saying that, although he had wanted to tell you this right after the aching confession on that diner that damned day “… but I missed you”.

The revelation shook you, enough that you weren’t able to properly hide your thoughts and surprise, shown with the way you moved your eyes away from his, not facing him but unable to close your mouth in a stern expression, as your hands were clutched together tight.

“… I… “ he was ready for the worst of insults, maybe a small ‘I missed you, too’, although it wouldn’t have been in your personality, but he certainly hadn’t expected  a small child moving towards them, or better… crawling towards them.

“Mommy, mommy!” he called out softly as he moved towards you, adjusting his shirt, a bit dirtied by the wet ground of the park, but he didn’t seem to care, shooting you a beautiful smile, the ones that only children had “… can we stay a bit longer?”.

And if the crawling hadn’t already put him on guard as the child raised his head, he showed him the same blue eyes he saw each day in the mirror.

He shot you a look, as you immediately shrank away from him, moving towards the child as you helped him up, easing him onto the light braces you had in a small fabric bag beside you, Ivar hadn’t noticed.

You helped the child in them expertly, as he continued on pleading on staying more but you were a woman on a mission.

And Ivar was a man glued on the ground beneath his feet.

“Eric, sweetheart, we promised that we would have had lunch with grandma and you also need a bath” your tone was sweet but stern, but it wasn’t tender because of his situation, but more because of a motherly instinct.

As the baby has his braces again, he was able to stand upright and he turned to Ivar, almost asking for some help with his mother, but as he did so, he realized that Ivar wore similar braces the search of pity became surprise.

“Mom, mom! He is like me!” there was no intention to shame him, but simple childish naivety and joyful happiness, but you immediately turned away from Ivar, and shot him one last look, as the big burly man not only found him stuck on the ground, but also speechless.

“It was nice meeting you Ivar, but I hope that you won’t found me again”.

And like that, you were gone.

With what looked like his child.

---

You weren’t able to properly feel safe till you heard the door slamming as Eric complained lightly about ‘wanting to play more’.

Your mother appeared from the kitchen, her hair still damp from the shower she had had.

To try to help you and Eric she had taken a small job at the florist shop near your house: she had always loved plants and flowers so she actually enjoyed working there, and sometimes would bring small plants home to ‘brighten the mood’.

“Eric, (Y/N)?” she looked at you weirded out by your early return: usually Saturday you would go out with Eric and then stay there till lunch time, to work the rest of the afternoon at the diner, having the night off for your small bartender job “… you are early”.

“It’s mom’s fault!” complained Eric, whenever he would do that he would resemble Ivar very much, making you almost want to raise your voice at the small boy, but you tried to calm yourself well aware that he didn’t know that you had done this to protect him “.. and there was a man like me at the park, today, grandma!”.

“Eric, go take a bath” you put more sternness than you should have in your tone, regretting it as the boy stumped his way to the bath and mother sent you a worried look, but you waited for the shower water to run before you answered your mother’s non-verbal question.

“I saw Ivar at the park, this morning” you mumbled and your mother immediately came closer to you, as you slowly slumped onto the sofa “… I had seen him yesterday, already, but I… thought it was a coincidence”.

You felt panic washing through you as you tried to breath deeper in order to regain some kind of control over your body, which was trembling horrendously.

“… sweetheart… did he see Eric?” your mother tried to bring some order to your chaotic mind as you tried to adjust yourself in a more comfortable position.

“Yes, he did”.

And then came the realization that Ivar now knew about your child.

“Baby of mine, don’t panic” he mumbled softly, as she tightened her grip around you, drawing relaxing circles onto your back “… he might not…”.

“Mom he is a cripple, but he isn’t stupid!” you shouted, immediately covering your mouth with an hand to stop the horrid sound from leaving your mouth, worried about Eric hearing you “… I am worried… what if he… comes here? What if…?”.

“He has no right to him” your mother spoke with confidence “… he broke up with you, he didn’t have the right to know there and he doesn’t now, don’t forget it”.

“He is rich, mom, he might… he might get Eric…” Gosh you couldn’t even think about the possibility of Ivar coming for Eric.

Although he had admitted, back then, he never wanted children, you had seen the look on his face as he had taken in Eric, realizing it was his.

You were worried.

“Don’t worry your pretty head, (Y/N)” she hugged you tighter as she tightened the hug “… it is your child, it isn’t his”.

“I can’t live without Eric” you uttered lightly as she softly cooed in your neck to help you calm yourself down “… I don’t know what I would do without him…”.

“… then it won’t happen” she gave you a comforting pat “… don’t think about things that haven’t happened yet”.

“Mom, I…” you didn’t know what to say anymore, the anxiety slowly burning through you “… I know, thank you”.

“Nothing to thank, sweetie, it’s my job” Eric appeared on the threshold of the kitchen, the towel almost making him trip on his own feet “… and our little man might need a bit of help”.

Helping Eric made you calm down a bit, as the little boy told you all about the fact that he had been able to get himself up the small castle stairs by himself all alone.

‘Coach Broadwick, said that I need big hands if I want to be a goalie!” he squealed as you brushed his hair together to dry them faster ‘… grandpa would have been proud, wouldn’t he?”.

“Of-super-course, sweetie!” you smiled at him softly, before you proceeded to smack his entire faces with kisses, as you helped him put his shirt, your mother called you both out for lunch “… let’s see what grandma made for us”.

As you turned, thinking that you had closed the Ivar’s debating, he muttered:

“Did you know the man that was like me, mom?”.

Although you had vowed to avoid lying to you child, you wished you could do it this time, with a light heart.

“He was an old friend” you muttered your tone so quiet that even Eric seemed to understand that it was better not to ask for more “… now we better hurry or grandma’s delicious lunch will be cold!”.

And Eric seemed to finally relax himself, forgetting all about that man.

And you hoped Ivar had done the same.

---

Ivar wasn’t able to simply forget the sight he had seen at the park.

You and a child.

His child.

Because it was either that or you had a fetish for fucking crippled men.

He didn’t know what to do, immediately choosing to leave the kid to their respective parents since he felt like he was slowly spiraling through what looked like’ memory lane’.

He excused his action with Ubbe, justifying it as Freydis needing a hand at the fertility clinic and his brother didn’t say anything simply asking whether he could do something more.

‘Let me know if I can do something for you’ had replied weakly Ubbe, not a true offer.

He couldn’t help him with what he needed.

But somebody else could.

He stumbled all the way to Heahmund’s apartment, an elegant loft which matched perfectly the personality of the distinguished lawyer.

Who was fucking a girl onto the table of his kitchen.

Ivar simply coughed to let his presence known and the girl immediately almost stumbled away from the kitchen, Heahmund’s cock sloppily leaving her, as she fell onto the ground, her knees weak for the amazing sex.

“What the fuck, Ivar?!” instead shouted Heahmund, annoyed and angered, it wasn’t the first time it had happened and he seemed almost used to it, retrieving his boxers from the ground “… it is fucking Saturday morning”.

“… I had the need of a professional consult” he simply replied, muttering lightly as Heahmund pushed his shirt onto the poor girl, barely able to calm herself, but glad for the shirt.

“Fucking come back Monday” the girl sneaked to the bedroom, probably to retrieve her clothes.

“It’s urgent”.

“How can it be so fucking urgent to disrupt my lovely Saturday morning?” replied immediately Heahmund, pushing a hand through his hair shaking them lightly.

“I have son” muttered Ivar and Heahmund promptly stopped what he was doing.

“… no, you fucking don’t, son of a bitch of a cripple” shouted back Heahmud, coming towards him in a threatening way “… you told you couldn’t get your cock up!”.

Once the company had gone pretty well and they had gone out to party: it turned out that Ivar was a sad drunk and had dunked onto Heahmund is entire family’s history.

“… I could… once” he couldn’t still believe it “… she was an old school sweetheart, it was my first time”.

And yours.

He remembered the way your face had morphed in pain and the blood that had coated the sheets of your bed, the way you had rushed to hide them, obliging Ivar to throw them.

‘Please my parents will fucking get angry with me if they found out I had sex!’.

How pissed had they been when they discovered you were carrying a child?

“What you are telling me… is that, my friend, who constantly complains he can’t get it up, once did?” and before Ivar could glare at him a skeptic look “… and had a fucking child? How fucking low are the chances to get pregnant on your first try?”.

“The gods love me” replied Ivar, a smug smirk on his face, although he didn’t understand why.

“No no, God fucking hates you” mumbled Heahmund as he sat onto his sofa, meanwhile Ivar moved onto the farthest armchair, checking it for any body fluids “… and how did you discover?”.

“I met her in a park, and she had her child with her” Heahmund was the one to send him a skeptical look this time “… he had braces, like me… I know he is my child Heahmund”.

“And you believe that because he had braces, he might be your son?”.

Ok, honestly that sounded creepy.

“… Heahmund, the timing is perfect, and the braces aren’t simply there for show, he fucking has osteogenesis imperfecta!”.

“Then why don’t you go to her house and talk with her about this?” shout back the lawyer, making Ivar still on the spot.

He had seen the way you had shrank away from him as he had taken in your son.

You had hidden him from Ivar, willingly.

He was sure.

Hence, he couldn’t just barge in your house and ask for explanations.

“… she hasn’t simply forgotten to notify me the fact that she was pregnant, Heahmund, she hid it willingly” and then he felt like he had to share what had happened in that diner, not so long ago “… I broke up with her a few weeks after we had… we did the deed… it wasn’t anything serious… my brothers had dared me to do it, since they said we were too clingy… and I… I would have cleared the entire thing the following day…”.

“That is a truly enlightening lesson on toxic masculinity believe me” humored him Heahmund, as he adjusted on the sofa “I’d say she has her reasons to make you stay away and I… don’t understand your need to meet her and the son… look at you: you are successful, you have a beautiful soon-to-be-wife and you are trying for a child”.

But he couldn’t just simply shake off his son’s eyes.

The joy in them, the way you had naturally acted with him that honestly had brought a smile onto Ivar’s face.

It wasn’t easy to simply forget about this.

“She works as a waitress” Heahmund gave him a simply skeptic nod as if to say ‘what about it’ “… what if she can’t take care of my child? What if she has money troubles?”.

“I’d avoid saying that to her face… women don’t take easily words like that”.

“I just want to try to make this right”.

Something in Ivar’s tone got the best of Heahmund, who huffed annoyed, but replied.

“… we take the law outside of it for a bit, or you are going to scare her… try to set up a meeting with  her and talk about the child, make sure that you tell her you are doing this for the child’s wellness”.

“Ok” that sounded reasonable and he could check out the diner he had gone to yesterday to try to talk to you: at work you certainly wouldn’t have thrown a fit “… and this goes unsaid, but… don’t utter a word to Freydis”.

“… my lips are sealed” and then eyeing the almost dressed woman he was just fucking on his kitchen table a few minutes before, he muttered hungrily smiling at her “… but now I have business to attend to”.

---

Lunch with Eric and your mother had eased your nerves although you were still nervous about Ivar.

But working helped you ease the stress, keeping your mind busy, as you scurried around the tables, thinking that not only you were covering the afternoon shift, but you would be working till midnight at a nearby bar.

And then, you saw Ivar.

He was sat onto one of the table, and not only you almost stumbled onto one of your fellow coworkers, but you were sure that you were having hallucinations, till Ivar got up, catching your gaze onto him.

And then he moved towards you.

And you run your way out back in the kitchen, an amazing idea, had Will been there.

But the kitchen was empty, since Will had moved onto the bar stool to chat amicably with Mrs. Innbitt, a nice older woman who had lost her husband a few years ago and would try every receipt Will would give her.

You were just able to steal a small look at the barstool, because as you turned Ivar was upon you.

You let out a shocked screech, immediately shutting yourself with a hand onto your mouth, hoping you hadn’t alerted anybody, although you definitely felt uneasy.

Not only Ivar was closer to you than it was healthy, but it immediately brought you back to the child discourse.

“… now you are officially stalking me” you mumbled, as he backed away quickly, immediately understanding your discomfort.

“Maybe I am doing it because you hid my son for five years” he replied, shocking you enough that you were the one to take a step back, stumbling onto a small table with flour on it, your hands absorbing it, staining them white.

“It isn’t your son” it wasn’t a proper defense, but it was all you had in mind.

“… oh, then you have a fetish for cripples” this time it was Ivar who had raised his voice and you gave him a hateful glare, being the one to tell him to ‘kindly fucking lower his voice’.

“What the fuck, Ivar?” and now it was all rage “… you come back five years and expect everything to fall on its place?!”.

“… I would have expected you to tell me, at least, that you were pregnant with my child”.

Although he hadn’t screamed, his words hurt you even more, and you shrank in yourself, as your legs lightly trembled.

“… it isn’t your child” you were simply able to utter, as he simply shook his head.

“(Y/N) don’t treat me like an idiot” he stammered, and in his tone you could almost feel the Ivar you had known, begging desperately to be allowed to show his worth “… the kid… he is like me, I have seen myself enough times in the mirror to know what ‘osteogenesis’ is like”.

“He is my child, solely mine” you muttered, grabbing onto the table, as you dug your fingers in it “… you are simply a sperm donor”.

Ivar seemed taken aback and the young Ivar you had seen in his look quickly disappeared.

“… that doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t be part of his life, (Y/N)”.

You hated the way his name sounded in his mouth.

Because it sounded like the only way it was pronounced.

“No, I chose what is and isn’t part of his life” you shouted back, although you were well aware you must have sounded like a dictator.

Ivar seemed taken aback from your anger: you had never been like that with him, but you had certainly grown up so he shouldn’t have expected anything less.

He took a big breath to collect himself.

And then spoke.

“…I know, but I also know what it means for a child to grow up without a father” he spoke, each word slowed down to represent its meaning “… don’t let him become me”.

“That’s what I am doing and that is why I don’t want you near him”.

“Then I don’t think there are other solutions” he looked at you in the eyes “… I do think that I’ll have my lawyers know…”.

That was your worst nightmare.

Your eyes froze onto him and your hands moved on their own onto his arms, surprising you and him, as you immediately retreated, but you still saw Ivar’s nostalgy in his eyes.

“… please don’t”.

You wouldn’t have enough money to support yourself and Eric’s health, paying for a lawyer and battles for the custody of a child were long and tiring.

“… then give me a chance!” Ivar sounded sincere, almost desperate in his attempt to meet your son “… I am not asking for him to become my son, just… I want to know him”.

Something broke inside of you.

But you couldn’t surrender so quickly.

“… what made you change your mind?” you asked him, bringing yourself to look at him in the eyes, in order for him not to lie to your face “… about children… you didn’t want to have them, back then…”.

“I…” he seemed not to know it he, himself “… me and my fiancée are trying for a child…”.

“He won’t be your surrogate child or a training dummie” you immediately spoke out, your tone stern but not broken “… he is a child, and if you want him to be… if you want to…”.

“I know this isn’t easy to accept” his tone was strangely soothing “… but I don’t mean to hurt him”.

“… you better” you took a deep breath, getting away from the table “… I am thinking about this… I’ll give you an answer before next Saturday”.

He seemed baffled by the fact that you were attempting to take time but allowed you with a small nod.

“… I’ll leave you my number” he simply mumbled, as you moved out of the kitchen.

Dread was setting on your stomach in that moment, but strangely you stole one last look at Ivar who was searching his card in his wallet, being able to stare at him without him noticing.

He had certainly changed in all the ways that heightened his figure, bringing him to gain muscles, but his expression had remained the same shadowed and grumpy, in a way that got your heart to gently shudder at that sight.

But you immediately turned as Ivar found the card and moved towards you, limping in that way that he hated but to you it was as familiar as if a day hadn’t passed since you had first met him.

And fell in love with him.

“I’ll call you” you mumbled, taking the card and he tried to smile at you, but worry still shone on his face, and although he hadn’t a reason to want your child to be also his, he… seemed to want it…

… desperately.

“I hope you do” he mumbled, before walking away and turning one last time, effectively surprising “… can I… can I at least know his name?”.

“Eric” you should have avoided saying it, not wanting Ivar to find him, God only knew what that cunning shit could do.

But he simply seemed out of his wits, amazed by the name.

“It’s a good name”.

---

You had named your child Eric, a typical Norse name, meaning ‘ever ruler’.

It couldn’t simply be a coincidence.

It meant something.

You still had somehow a respect for Ivar in naming the child that way, which could show that, although you had been truly cold-hearted with him, you still… latched onto him.

As he did with you.

The memories and the desire to be closer intensifying as the memory of your child came to replay in his mind.

Eric had his eyes, but he had your smile, open and careless, in a way that made him carefree and frail.

He wondered whether he wouldn’t fall asleep at night because his legs hurt too much.

He certainly had back then.

If his braces were comfortable enough.

If you kissed him on the forehead as Aslaugh always did with him.

If being a parent meant worrying, he certainly was on the right way.

He fell onto the bed, completely exhausted, as he tried to kick off his unlaced boots, a message on his phone shining to show a message from Heahmund.

‘How did it go, baby daddy?’.

He was barely able to unlock his phone before he felt the telltale rummaging of keys against metal signaling that Freydis had come home and he made sure to lock his phone, pushing it into the first drawer of his bedside table, as he adjusted onto the bed, stretching himself and pushing the braces off the bed, knowing it pissed off Freydis to find them there.

“I am home!” she giggled gently and any trouble he might be having was washed away from his mind, as he tried to reign himself away from the memory of Eric and (Y/N).

“I am glad you are” he mumbled softly, as she dropped her bags in the kitchen, got a small drink from the orange juice cardboard, as she always did after the long session of hormones and other therapies “… I am in the bedroom”.

She immediately joined him, her heeled shoes already off, as she discarded her coat and jacket, revealing an elegant white blouse, showing her small curves, matched perfectly with a black skirt, the image of the elegant businesswoman.

And although she was irresistible, his mind went back to you in a comfortable hoodie and worn out sneakers.

Which wasn’t good.

“… how did your day go?” she asked, as he moved onto the bed, a bit far away from him to get off her stockings.

“Ahem…” ‘I have solely discovered that my high school sweetheart has had a child with me’ “…it was nice… what about you?”.

He tried to shift the attention, grateful that the hormonal cures made her tired and sleepy.

“… as always tiring” she mumbled, moving lightly towards him, a few buttons of her blouse coming undone in a naïve provocation “… but I am glad, the doctors are saying that it’s improving!”.

“Oh, that is nice” he says without thinking too much about it “… have they told you something about me?”.

He grimaced when Freydis nodded her head, but was immediately comforted as she grabbed his hand, gripping it tightly.

“… the usual hour, next week” she mumbled gently, rubbing her thumb onto the back of his hand, in a gesture that used to be soothingly alluring for him, but now he couldn’t help but feeling like she was rubbing  piece of coarse paper against it “… I know it isn’t easy for you, but… I appreciate it Ivar, you are working for our future”.

He had never wanted to have children till Freydis had come in the picture.

He still didn’t know why he wanted them maybe it was the desperate need for something to leave behind and Freydis’ love for them.

Their relationship had definitely moved faster than it was conventionally approved, but he hadn’t minded it.

He had never had somebody who had cared for him, so when Freydis had come in the picture, so gentle and sweet, he hadn’t been able to stop himself from falling in love with her, to the point that she could ask for the moon and he would have given it to her.

He hadn’t been in love like this with you, it wasn’t this intense and maddening, it had been low and timid, in the shy way all high school crushes were born.

But it still haunted him to these days.

“… Ivar” called him Freydis and he immediately turned to her, with a questioning look “… you haven’t heard anything I said, have you?”.

“I am sorry, I just have a bit of… I am just tired”.

“So, am I” shot back gently Freydis, stirring herself so that she could make her body come closer to him, pushing her hand into his “… let’s just go to bed, and talk about all of this tomorrow”.

He nodded, adjusting himself on his side.

“Goodnight, love”.

He couldn’t help but feel more relaxed because of this, but the last image that laid in front of him was Eric grabbing your hand, as you ran away from him.

“Goodnight, Ivar”.

He wondered, at last, if you had wished Eric ‘goodnight’.

---

The entire week had been pretty tough on you.

But what was worse was the fact that Eric had realized your bad mood pretty quickly, even going as far as asking you on Sunday, before leaving for your job, if you were angry with him.

‘No no, sweetie’ you had tucked his hair behind his ears, gently kissing his forehead ‘… I am just a bit busy with some things’.

‘… need my help?’ had asked the little boy, making you smile sadly at him.

‘You already give me too much help, sweetie, just think about your soccer match!’ you had then ruffled his hair but sent a meaningful look at his mother.

Please don’t let him know of everything that has been going on.

You either found out a way to pay your lawyer or you would have to let Ivar see your child.

You hadn’t met him in five years, so you didn’t trust him, in the slightest.

Your mother, although she would have supported any decision you would have taken, insisted that you tried to mend the relationship with Ivar, even more after she had heard about his suggestion of helping you financially.

‘Mom I am not going to let him control me with money! He can’t buy his son back from me!’.

You had almost felt insulted by her proposal.

‘… but (Y/N) think about this attentively: he might help us with Eric’s cures, don’t do it for him but do it for your child’.

‘I can take care of my child’ you had retorted, and your mother had eventually dropped the argument.

Now it was Wednesday night, you had checked Eric’s homework and were getting ready for your first trial at the art gallery, worrying lightly due to your mother’s absence.

She had promised you she would take care of Eric, meanwhile you were out.

It was strange she still wasn’t back there, and when it came to an hour before the entire thing you tried calling her, worried both about work and her as Eric finished his dinner, watching the latest Avenger movie.

You hadn’t been able to get in contact with your mother till fifteen minutes had passed, and when she had answered you the situation had worsened.

‘(Y/N)… I was at the theatre, what are you calling me for?’.

“Mom you should have… you were supposed to be babysitting Eric, meanwhile I was on the trial thing at the gallery!” you remembered her, trying to understand what to do, since your mother was clearly unavailable for the evening.

You tried to remember the name of the babysitters you liked, immediately running their numbers in your memory

“… (Y/N) no you didn’t tell me, I am sure…” you huffed out loudly “… don’t huff at me young lady! It wasn’t written in the timetable!”.

And to your horror, as you moved to check, you found out you hadn’t written it, probably for the fact you were too taken by your inner turmoil and indecision about Ivar.

“… I am coming back immediately, but it’ll take me an hour, sweetie, I have to wait for Marissa!”.

You had thought, as you rushed because it was missing simply half an hour to your interview, it would be simple.

But it wasn’t… in the slightest.

Half of the babysitters weren’t available, and the other ones didn’t babysit anymore.

You didn’t trust your neighbors enough to put Eric in their hands, but the list was running short and you would be running late.

This honestly terrified you extremely aware that the job might be an amazing offer to help you take less works and stay more with Eric earning better, but you couldn’t just leave Eric alone.

The thing was starting to become low key nerve-wrecking for you, because although you loved your role as a mother, you had loved the thought of going back into a place where you wouldn’t be serving plates and calming drunkards.

You couldn’t believe that you were ruining completely that chance for you.

Then your phone buzzed again, an unknown number and you answered thinking that maybe it was one of the babysitters’ friends.

But as you picked up the call you were surprised.

“Hello, (Y/N)” Ivar’s voice was pretty hoarse through the phone “… your mother has called me”.

You almost cursed, stopping yourself a you realized that Eric was in the room.

“… what do you want, Ivar? It isn’t Sunday yet!”.

“Your mother talked about you having need of a babysitter” he ignored your indignant tone.

“No no, don’t worry I solved it” you replied, almost slamming the ‘end call’ button.

“(Y/N) I can come, I am nearby, I don’t have a trouble…”.

“Ivar this isn’t… this isn’t…” Gosh you didn’t know what to say.

Certainly, you were still wary about the thought of actually letting your son meet up Ivar, but it was a solution to a problem that was tormenting your body, enough to make you tremble.

“This isn’t an official meet up, you can give me every rule you want, I can also just stay silent for the entire night, I just…” and he took a deep breath, it was evident that he was both hopeful and stubborn and there was a desperation in his voice that froze you “… I just want to help you”.

You thought about it: you either gave up the chance for which you had been working so hard and which wouldn’t come back or you allowed the father of your child to see him, which was an alternative that scared you in a way that was completely irrational.

“I…” you didn’t know, you didn’t know what to do, but then took a small look at Eric, trying ‘discreetly’ to listen onto your conversation, and as you met those beautiful blue eyes… you were just frozen on the spot, and answered with a lower tone “… you can come, but you are not his father, you a friend of mine”.

“Thank you, (Y/N)” his tone was almost moved, and you tried to stop yourself from matching his.

“My mother will come in an hour, all you have to do is check that Eric take his medicines and gets in bed, without breaking any bones”.

“I know the drill, believe me” his voice was more joyful than sarcastic which was strange “… I am going to take care of him”.

“You better” you mumbled biting on your tongue “… this is your chance to prove me that you are worthy to be part of my child’s life, you better not fuck it up”.

---

As he had arrived you were in a black attire, a small little back outfit on you and although he was well aware it wasn’t as expensive as the ones Freydis wore, it certainly did the best it could for your figure.

He had tried his best not to stare at you, meanwhile you explained him the rules: no sugar, no movies, Eric just had to take his medicines and be in bed, he could play a bit and maybe read to develop his abilities, but he needed to be in bed for when your mother came back.

Eric, for the entire time, had remained in his room, although the door was open and Ivar had tried to take a few looks at the child, trying to see if his memory remembered him properly.

‘… Ivar I am trusting you with the most precious thing in my life, please… don’t…’.

‘I am not an idiot, (Y/N), you should know it better than anyone’ the sharpness of his tone had made you shudder lightly but you had hidden it, simply smirking at him one last way, calling Eric over, and kneeling at his side.

‘Sweetie, mommy is going to work tonight but grannie will soon be back, in the meanwhile you’ll stay with my friend, Ivar, the one from the park’ you explained to him gently, as you adjusted his cute hoodie.

‘The one like me?’ wondered aloud the boy, immediately moving to look at Ivar’s legs and crutches ‘… hi I am Eric’.

And he had shot out his hand to Ivar, leaving him confused, meanwhile you sent him a small nod, as if to allow him that grip.

‘Ivar’ he muttered, although he tried to brighten his tone with a small smile, but Eric didn’t seem to notice it, instead checking out his braces ‘… I like your braces, buddy’.

‘Ohhh, mommy got them solely for me!’ he explained enthusiastically, before he shout out a small leg to show him that at the end there were some stickers of the Avengers, meanwhile and… rather sarcastically a few of ‘The Flash’ ‘They are cool, aren’t they?’.

‘Super-duper’ he spoke, before shooting a reassuring look at (Y/N) ‘I think that we will be alright, you can go’.

‘Mommy is going to miss you’ you simply replied, not looking at Ivar and kissing the small man, who immediately washed away the kiss, faking of being ashamed.

At least him and the little man had something similar.

“Please don’t…” you spoke, one last time grabbing your coat.

“I won’t, now go and get that job”.

The smile you had was the gentlest he had ever seen, and he couldn’t help but stare at it even as you closed the door behind you, shooting one last look at Eric.

He was brought back from his trance by a light grip onto his hand, Eric.

“Want to play Avengers with me?”.

And for a moment he was thankful that Hvitserk had brought him along to see that movie.

They   didn’t spend much time discussing any plot, the small boy playing on his own and following around Ivar’s bad guy, and he immediately stopped as Ivar asked him whether he had a favorite superhero.

“It’s Thor!” he replied, immediately, grabbing the blond-haired hero “… he is super cool, and mom has told me all about him! The my… myth…mythlogy!”

“Mythology?” he replied, softly and the boy nodded “… has she told you about the time he had to dress up as a woman to get back his hammer?”.

Apparently no, with the way he shook his head immediately, lighting up interested.

The rest of the time passed with him telling his child stories, even when your mother walked in home and smirked at Ivar, although her eyes showed that she hadn’t forgotten the heartbreak he had made you go through.

‘Can you handle Eric for a bit longer? I am going to use the bathroom and then start getting him ready’ he looked at Eric who was pleading him with his eyes for another story.

‘I think I can’.

He then moved away as your mother came back, tucking in Eric and checking his bones and if he had taken the medicines and then wished ‘goodnight’ to him softly blowing a soft smile on his forehead.

He almost wished he could have done the same.

He hadn’t spent so much time with the boy, but he couldn’t help but feel attached to him already.

He had been worried to find somebody like him as a child, spoiled and grumpy, but Eric was an happy child, no matter his legs, he was active and sweet, curious enough to show that he was smart, but he wasn’t as cunning as him.

He believed that you had done an amazing good job, raising up the child.

Your mother came back, with a small smirk on her face.

“He says he wants to say ‘goodbye’ to you”.

And like that he slipped inside of the room of his son, taking a better look at it, realizing that it was a small and pretty crowded but tidy, and he didn’t know whether it was you who kept in order for the boy, himself.

But Eric soon caught his eyes again.

“… hey, Ivar!” he turned to him, stumbling closer to the bed “… your stories are even better than mom’s!”.

“I know, I know” he winked at him jokingly “… but don’t tell her, if I know one thing about your mother it is that she hates losing”.

“She does!” shouted back Eric, giggling lightly, as you always did when you heard something funny.

He wondered if you still did.

“Well I am glad you liked my stories! I hope to come over again to tell you more!” he replied, tentatively hoping that Eric speaking with his mother might convince her, although… he knew you could be even more stubborn than him.

“… I’ll tell her! And maybe we can watch ‘The Flash’ together! I can show you why I like him so so much”.

He honestly hated superheroes but due to the huge smirk on his son’s face he couldn’t stop himself from agreeing, and maybe… just maybe he would have finally enjoyed those movies.

“Of course, kiddo!” he promised, even swearing with the pinky promise, a small smirk on his own face, and the sudden realization of how small his son’s hand was instead of his, in a way that made him almost shiver at his frailty.

And he made to turn around, definitely nervous about how and what he should do next.

He knew that you wouldn’t have liked if he tried to say the things that were going around in his head in that moment, and although he knew it was a tough battle, he respected the boundaries you put around yourself.

“… Ivar!” Eric called him out one last time, his gaze focused onto his legs, in a way that showed him immediately the theme of the talk they were going to have “… do they also hurt you very much?”.

He stopped, the sunny boy he had met a few moments disappeared in a more introvert one, almost ashamed of his question, and Ivar couldn’t help but feel like that was his part, that was his legacy to him.

He had also been a scared little boy wondering what would be happening to him, if it was normal, finding a reason behind his pain.

“Yes, they still do” he couldn’t lie to his face like that “… but… you get used to it, and there are some things that can be useful for the pain…”.

“Mom always says that I am extraordinary for… the pain… like I am ever better than Flash!” he mumbled, a smile making its way on his face “… you are pretty cool too, Ivar”.

Although he hated all those stupid encouragement speeches, the sincerity in his son’s voice, shook him.

“… thank you, kiddo” and he then moved away, finding you in the hallways, trying to discard the painful heels you were wearing in a way that brought his heart back at your first prom together and how you had discarded the uncomfortable shoes, when you had hidden away from everybody in the porch of his house, bunching up the dress, to be more comfortable.

“Oh… you are back” he couldn’t help but feel stupid, but you didn’t give it too much thought, instead checking for Eric’s room, walking past him without giving him a second glance.

Eric faked of being asleep, but you still caught him, a small smirk onto your face, and you moved inside, tucking him better, as you pushed his braces away so that he wouldn’t trip over them when he would wake up tomorrow.

All the gestures of an attentive mother.

He couldn’t help but be a bit amazed, and as you finished the entire trip to Eric’s room.

You closed the door behind you, as he felt your mother doing the same, although he wouldn’t be surprised to know that she was listening with her ear onto the door.

“He seemed pretty happy” you muttered, clutching yourself tighter in your jacket.

“I hope your interview went well” he replied, a bit embarrassed suddenly.

“I’ll know in a few days” your voice didn’t let go anything in your tone, but he couldn’t help but feel like the night had gone well, no matter your worry.

“When will I know if…” ‘if I am allowed to see my son again?’.

“In a few days” your impassible tone broke a bit, letting some emotion pass “… thank you for coming”.

“He is my child, that’s the least I could do” he shot back, immediately “… even if you don’t want to accept it”.

Like that you were again still and rigid with him, going to the door to open it for him, in an obvious sign that he should go.

“… goodnight, Ivar”.

“Goodnight, (Y/N)”.

And now all he had to was hope he had done a good impression.

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[perfeggso]

Noir (yutae) 

Week IV pt. 1

Tokyo – fall of 1983: Nakamoto Yuta is quickly rising in the ranks of one of Japan’s most notorious yakuza families, and he’s poised to climb even further if he can stop himself from being ruined by the pretty Korean boy who’s shown up out of nowhere.

Chapter 1  |  Chapter 2  |  Chapter 3  |  Chapter 4  |  Chapter 5  |  Chapter 6  |  Chapter 7  |  Chapter 8  |  Masterlist

Glossary of Japanese words

Characters: Yuta x Taeyong + NCT ensemble, Twice J-line (for funsies)

Genres: Gang!AU, angst, smut, fluff, 1980s!AU

Warnings: graphic violence, swearing, minor character death, alcohol use, mentions of drugs, period-typical homophobia, xenophobia, BDSM

Rating: 18+

Length: 7k

“Okay,” said Yuta, “this is the last time I’ll ask – I promise.  You’re sure I didn’t scare you last night?”

Taeyong sat in the passenger side of Yuta’s car, waiting in the pick-up area at Narita International Airport the morning after their first night together, listening to "4:00AM" by Taeko Onuki.  He rolled his eyes.  

“Yuta,” he began, “if I was going to be scared of you – which I am not, by the way – it wouldn’t be because you startled me when you yelled in the middle of the night, I can tell you that much.”

The night before, Taeyong had fallen asleep in Yuta’s arms; tired, sated, and oh so happy.  His little bundle of positivity only unwound when he was shaken rudely awake in the early hours of the morning by Yuta screaming.  It didn’t last for long, partially because Taeyong had used all the wits he could gather to coo over Yuta, calming him down and easing his tension, but it had been disturbing, nonetheless.  When Taeyong felt like he’d waited a sufficiently long time for Yuta to regain his bearings, he’d ventured to ask what was the matter.  All Yuta could put into words was that he’d had a bad dream, and that for as long as he could remember, his bad dreams could sometimes get horrifying or tangible enough to make him react quite violently in the real world, and he was sorry.  Taeyong didn’t press him on what that particular dream was about, but it must have been quite upsetting.  Who knew what kinds of things Yuta had seen in his life for his unconscious brain to draw upon?  Anyway, the next morning Yuta couldn’t stop the incident from preoccupying him, apparently very worried that it would somehow make him less desirable or something.  Taeyong was having none of it.

Yuta sighed as he sank farther into the driver’s seat, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel.  Taeyong felt a little pang of guilt that he might have insinuated that maybe he should fear Yuta for other, non-nightmare-related reasons.  But like he said, he didn’t.  He didn’t fear Yuta even though he’d watched him kill another man with his own eyes.  Yuta was too sweet and odd, too predictably human, and made him feel too good to scare him.  

“Okay, good.  It just happens sometimes.  Haven’t figured out how to control it yet,” Yuta said.  He switched the topic. “How’s your ass, by the way?” Taeyong smiled to himself.

“It’s fine, but you did bruise me a tiny bit.”

Now it was Yuta smiling.  “Sorry.”  He didn’t seem very sorry, though.  “Don’t Change” by INXS started to play over the radio.  

“I don’t care,” Taeyong admitted.  “I like a little reminder of who made me feel like this.”  

“Good,” said Yuta.  “Next time I’ll mark you up deliberately.”

Taeyong’s breath caught in his throat.  Should they even be talking about this on the job?  Wasn’t Yuta worried about being distracted?   Still, he filed Yuta’s promise away in his mind so he could hold him to his word.

“You wanted tattoos, anyway,” Yuta teased.  “I can give you the low commitment version.”

“You’re kinda corny sometimes, you know?” Taeyong said, causing Yuta to splutter laughter.  

“Yeah,” he confessed, “I know.”  He turned to regard Taeyong with a smile.

Taeyong hadn’t brought anything with him last night to change into for the next day, so (with permission!) he’d raided Yuta’s closet.  Taeyong wouldn’t have minded wearing his clothes from the night before – they weren’t particularly slutty and no one he’d be seeing today had seen him in them the previous night – but they still smelled pretty bad from all the sweat and spilled alcohol lodged in their threads.  Instead, Taeyong got to smell like Yuta.  

He wore a Bauhaus t-shirt, black jeans, and a gray blazer with a little gold pin with the Inagawa-kai logo on it attached to the lapel.  Yuta wore the same one on his black, patent-leather peacoat.  He had paired that with black aviator sunglasses for a truly eye-catching combination.  Taeyong thought it was funny that Yuta seemed incapable of not dressing like a mobster.  

Before Yuta could say whatever he was about to, a blue BMW pulled up right next to them and rolled down the window, revealing Taeil in the driver’s seat and Mark by his side.  Taeil was yelling something Taeyong couldn’t hear over the sound of departing airplanes, and apparently Yuta couldn’t understand it either because he yelled back for Taeil to repeat himself.  

“What?” Taeil asked instead.

“He’s wondering if you’ve gotten any updates!”  Mark repeated.

“No!” Yuta responded.  “And why are you double-parking me?  Just pull up a little!”

Taeil obliged and parked in front of Yuta and Taeyong, getting out once he’d cut the engine and walking to Yuta’s window.  Yuta turned off the radio.  

“Why do you need an update?” he asked.

Taeil rested his hands on the car door.  “Because,” he explained, “Mark was hanging around headquarters and really wanted to come even though I kept telling him that if they brought more than one extra person with them I would not hesitate to leave him at the airport.”

“Why didn’t you just say no?” Yuta inquired.  

“Because I thought he’d tell you I said no and then you’d be annoyed.”

Taeyong sat there as this whole interaction played out, watching Mark watch them from Taeil’s car.  It seemed like Mark got a lot of preferential treatment.  Not that Taeyong could talk.  

“Alright,” said Yuta.  “It’s not a problem.  I don’t have any reason to believe there will be more people with Kun than he said.”

Taeil clapped his hands over the car door a couple of times.  “Okay, just checking.  Shategashira ?”

“Yeah?”

“ Would you have been annoyed with me?”

Yuta pondered the question for a minute, eyes dancing around the cabin of his car.  “Probably,” he eventually admitted, smiling and looking at Taeil out of the corner of his eye.

“Knew it!”

Part of Taeyong wanted to know what Yuta’s deal was with Mark, scared the curiosity might be coming from a place of burgeoning jealousy.  Taeyong was over the moon about his relationship with Yuta, but sometimes he cursed his own decision making.  His infatuations always stressed him out terribly, and his situation was already stressful enough.  

He watched as a group of well-dressed men exited the door Kun and his people were supposed to be emerging from.  Yuta and Taeil were still talking – something to do with their meeting preparations, no doubt – and hadn’t seemed to notice the new arrivals in the pickup area.  

“Is that them?” Taeyong asked.

Yuta and Taeil both snapped their heads in the direction Taeyong was pointing.  Yuta blinked.  

“Yeah,” he confirmed.  “It is.”

“How many were there supposed to be?” Taeyong asked as a follow-up.

“Seven,” Taeil answered this time.  “They brought two extras with them.  Fuck.”

“Looks like someone’s going in the trunk,” Yuta joked.  

Taeyong and Yuta got out of the car, walking over to the Triads with Taeil and Mark, who’d finally stepped out onto the curb.  Taeyong thought he caught Mark giving him a once-over, perhaps registering the presence of Yuta’s clothing on his body.  

“I thought I told you to stay at your post,” Yuta scolded.  

Mark shrugged.  “I thought this was a special occasion.”

The Triads were more inconspicuous than the Inagawa-kai usually were, their tall builds and dark clothing lending them all an appearance more akin to a celebrity and his bodyguards (although who the celebrity was could be up to interpretation) than to a group of criminals.  

Kun, or at least the man Taeyong assumed was Kun, stood at the front of a near perfect triangle of his men, a relaxed confidence defining his features.  

Kun and Yuta acknowledged each other with a bow.  

“ Shategashira , good to see you,” Kun greeted.

“ Fu Shan Chu , the honor’s all mine.”

Taeyong didn’t know what Kun’s title meant, but he had a feeling Yuta wasn’t pronouncing it very well.  Not that he could have done any better.  As Taeil and Mark quickly extended their own greetings, Taeyong prayed a silent ‘thank you’ that the Triads all spoke Japanese; he didn’t need to be any more confused than he already was basically nonstop.  Although after a moment of thought, he realized this made perfect sense considering these men had been hand-picked to attend an important business meeting (if you could call it a “business meeting”) in Japan.    

“Taeyong,” Yuta began, the indulgent tone Taeyong had grown more and more used to him using when they were together overtaking his voice, “I want you to meet some dear friends.”  

Kun introduced himself first as a Deputy, second in command of his syndicate and in charge of international business; then came Sicheng, a skilled tracker and fighter despite his lithe build; followed by Ten, the Hong Kong liaison for the group’s Thai offshoot who explained by way of introduction that, since no one could ever pronounce his real name, he went by ‘Ten’ for the number of people he’d personally “interrogated” by the time he decided he needed a nickname (“but now I’ve lost count”).  The three of them were followed by Yukhei, a tall Hong Kong native and self-described yes-man for Ten; Dejun, who kept his introduction succinct but fixed an almost manic positive energy on Taeyong the whole time he spoke; Kunhang, the “Macanese Snoop,” whatever that meant; and Yangyang who once worked for the Taiwanese Triads and was in charge of smuggling since he used to do it between West and East Germany for some reason Taeyong didn’t quite catch.  The seven men were able to pack so much information into their introductions because they kept jumping in on each other’s sentences, adding information they deemed pertinent about their friends seemingly as a way of hyping one another up.

Once the seven men in front finished, Yuta peaked exaggeratedly to the back of the group to address the stragglers.  

“And you two, it seems to me, are none other than Zhong Chenle and Huang Renjun, all grown up now, hm?”  The pair smiled mischievously at each other.  They wore almost schoolboy-like suits that looked a little too expensive to be trusted in the hands of a late teen or early twenty-something, as they appeared to be.

“Hello Yuta-san,” they each chimed, a bit out of synch.

“I can tell that you’ve aged too, Shategashira,” quipped the shorter of the two.  The taller joined in.

“Yeah, please make sure you’re getting enough sleep, sir.”  Chenle and Renjun tittered as the Triads rolled their eyes and Kun shot them an absolutely lethal glare.  

“I’d be careful if I were you,” Mark jested from over Taeyong’s left shoulder.  “You’re on Yuta’s turf now and I can promise from experience you don’t want to see him pissed.  Can’t run to your daddies here.”

Now it was Chenle rolling his eyes.  “Shut the fuck up, Mark,” he said, and Mark cackled in amusement.

“Thank you, Mark,” Taeil interjected, a cautious impatience practically dripping from his voice.  “I think our Shategashira can defend himself.”

“Great!” said Yuta, trying to regain control of the interaction.  Taeyong was starting to get nervous because they were all still standing out in the open outside one of Narita’s many exits, and it wouldn’t have taken that much imagination on the part of an onlooker to identify them as a group of gangsters.  Yuta didn’t seem nervous though, so Taeyong pushed his anxiety as far down as he could until it was nearly imperceptible.  Yuta leaned closer to him a bit as he aimed to guide Taeyong through their ongoing introductions.  

“Those two meiwaku are the sons of Triad commanders.  They’re completely spoiled, as you can see.”  Taeyong almost giggled, amused by the amount of time Yuta seemed to spend getting bullied by people who were barely out of high school.  Yuta continued.  “So that’s everyone,” he concluded, pulling away from Taeyong.            

“I’m humbled to meet you all,” Taeyong said, brain overloaded for the hundredth time in a month by all the new faces and by Yuta’s proximity.  

Yuta brushed his finger over Taeyong’s sleeve.  It was a small movement and he doubted anyone else saw, but Taeyong had to suppress the heat threatening to overtake his face.  Yuta never got into the personal space of his subordinates while conducting business, but then again, Taeyong was an exception in more ways than one.  He couldn’t decide if he was more irritated by Yuta messing with him or by his own oversensitivity.  

“You don’t have to use kenjougo with them,” Yuta joked. “Polite language will do.  They’re all younger than you, anyway.”

Taeyong balked.  He knew that Chenle and Renjun were young, but his tone hadn’t been meant for them.  And he thought Yuta was a prodigy...  

“You want to introduce yourself, Taeyong?” Yuta suggested.  

“Oh, right!  Hello, my name is Lee Taeyong and I’m sort of a member-in-training, I suppose.  I’m helping Yuta prepare for your upcoming meeting.”  Taeyong bowed, having rushed through his introduction, and he was glad no one could see his downcast eyes go wide when he felt Yuta’s palm just above the small of his back, guiding him upright.  Could he not?

“Taeyong’s been a great asset to us lately,” said Yuta, and Taeyong thought he detected the tiniest hint of teasing in his words.  “I trust you’ll all come to appreciate him as we have.”  

Taeyong heard Taeil sigh from behind him.  “We should be going,” he stated, “but I regret to inform you that one of the pipsqueaks is going to need to improvise in terms of seating on the way into the city.  We were expecting fewer people.”  

Kun smiled wryly.  “Maybe I should have hired a professional driver,” he joked and Taeil stiffened in irritation.  “But no,” he continued, “I understand.  These two insisted last minute on a vacation to Tokyo and their fathers didn’t listen to my concerns about bringing them, so here we are.  We’ll figure it out.”  

“Shall we?” asked Yuta, turning on his heel towards the parked cars, and Kun made a hand motion that signaled for all the Triads to follow.  

“You know,” said Taeil, as he watched Mark drop back in formation to share more personal greetings with some of his Triad buddies, “we could just put Mark in the trunk, and this wouldn’t be an issue.  He did insist on joining after all.”

Mark turned his attention from Yukhei to Taeil and scowled.  “If you do that, I’ll yell so loud you get pulled over and then I’ll say I’m being kidnapped by the yakuza,” he warned.  

Ten sidled up to Mark and regarded him casually, a smirk forming on his face.  “Uh-huh,” he said, “and what do you think the cops will make of that Irezumi on your wrist?”

“Shut up,” said Mark, seeming to resign himself to an uncomfortable ride back.

Taeyong and Yuta returned to their car, trailed by Ten, Kun, and a skittish Renjun who held a finger to his lips as he slipped into the middle seat in back.  Taeyong paused in front of the vehicle for a moment, next to the passenger side door.  He was fairly certain he wasn’t supposed to sit shotgun, considering he had the lowest rank of the five of them save Renjun.  He looked at Yuta questioningly, expecting a word or gesture directing him to the back seats.  Instead, Yuta nodded for Taeyong to enter where he was, so Taeyong opened the door and sat in front, trying to be small and invisible by moving as little as possible.  Kun and Ten didn’t seem to question it.  

“Thank you for choosing Inagawa chauffeur service,” Yuta said jokingly once everyone was inside.  It took a moment to get going because Mark was trying to force Chenle into the trunk of Taeil’s car and Chenle responded by flailing and emitting a screech so high in pitch that Taeyong worried it might shatter all the windows of both cars.  

“You’re a smart boy, Renjun,” Kun stated, “choosing to come in this car.”

“Yeah,” Ten chimed, “what would you have done if we tried to force you into the trunk?”

Renjun smirked.  “I have a pocket knife on me and I’m not afraid to use it…” he explained in response, making everyone laugh.  In front of them, Mark pouted as the trunk door finally closed over him.  Taeyong caught a smile on Yuta’s face out of his peripheral vision as both car engines started.  

***

Taeyong had only been to the “training room” at headquarters a couple of times before.  The first time had been when Doyoung decided to nab him and teach him knife throwing, and the second was when Jaehyun asked him to hold arm pads for him to punch.  The space was painted yellow from floor to ceiling and had harsh lighting and mold growing like shadows in the corners.  One section had weights, mats, and boxing equipment set up next to a mirror; one, some knives and targets; and one, a table and small sitting area.

The Triads had only been in town a few hours and already, they seemed to be getting quite comfortable.  When Taeyong had a moment of free time, Ten and a few others grabbed him without explanation and dragged him off to go “have some fun and get to know each other.”  Apparently, that meant subjecting him to public mortification.  

Sicheng had his arms wrapped around Taeyong’s midsection, bending him over and essentially   demobilizing him.  Taeyong breathed heavily, unable to do anything but struggle and watch the speckled floor under him shift along with his jerky movements.  

“Sicheng, maybe go easy on him?” he heard Kunhang suggest from the table area, where some of the Triads were sat watching.

“I thought Inagawa was tougher than this,” Yangyang heckled, and Taeyong felt hot shame pile on top of his bodily discomfort.  

Dejun piped up next.  “He’s new, Yangyang, give him a break.”

Taeyong wanted to respond, but he was too busy trying to defend himself physically to do it verbally.  Sicheng brought his knee up into Taeyong’s stomach, just hard enough to startle him without hurting him too badly.  He used Taeyong’s disorientation to trip him, and next thing he knew, Taeyong was sore and heaving with his ass on the padded floor.  

“Or don’t go easy on him,” Kunhang remarked.  “Either way.”

Taeyong looked to his audience.  Dejun, Kunhang, and Yangyang were all sitting around the table in the corner, a neglected game of poker which had started as a way of blowing off some competitive steam after “training” laid out between them.  Ten stood a bit off to the side, arms crossed and gaze sharp with scrutiny.  He took a couple of strides towards Taeyong and Sicheng, a smirk overtaking his mouth as he looked down at Taeyong like he was prey.  Taeyong had met plenty of scary people in his life, and the frequency of such encounters had only increased since he started hanging around the yakuza, but Ten, with his wicked expressiveness and black leather suit in this moment gave Taeyong a chill of pure terror.  

He noticed a movement out of the corner of his eye and turned his head to see it was Sicheng reaching his hand out to help Taeyong up.  He smiled, face inviting and a welcome contrast to Ten’s entire aura.  Taeyong took his hand and let Sicheng pull him to his feet.

“I thought you were supposed to be Yuta’s bodyguard,” Ten said plainly.  

“Well, not exactly,” Taeyong tried to explain.  “I just follow him around and keep a lookout for trouble; anything suspicious.”

Ten narrowed his eyes in a way Taeyong felt had to be partly for show.  “That’s all, huh? Doesn’t sound like much.”  Ten looked Taeyong head to toe and hummed thoughtfully.  “Could there be another reason Yuta keeps you around?”

Jesus Christ, did everyone know?   The room felt suddenly cold as Taeyong’s body came down from his previous exertion.  He tried to suppress a shiver as his brain rushed to come up with a response.  Thankfully, Sicheng stepped in.

“He knows how to fight, Ten, he’s just used to fighting brainless brutes.”

Taeyong nodded, hurrying to redeem himself. “Sicheng’s right,” he confirmed.  “M’sorry.”

Ten let out a laugh through his nose.  “No need to grovel,” he said, smile growing slightly less intimidating.  He pushed a finger playfully into Taeyong’s shoulder, sending Taeyong’s mind reeling.  “Anyway, I heard you saved Yuta from an assassin, so I’m in your corner.  I’m just taking it upon myself to help you improve and make yourself even more useful.”

Taeyong laughed in confusion, spitting out a sarcastic, “gee, thanks.”

Dejun expelled a sound of wounded disappointment from behind Ten, certainly brought about by the poker game.  Kunhang and Yangyang snickered.  Ten ignored them all, keeping his attention trained on Taeyong.  He raised an eyebrow and smiled, catlike.

“Wanna see something cool?”

“Sure?” Taeyong ventured, not sure if this was another way of saying “let’s have some fun and get to know each other.”  He steadied his core in case Ten decided to tackle him or something.  

Instead, Ten opened his leather jacket, giving his torso the effect of having bat wings.  Taeyong was surprised, but not as surprised as he would have been a month ago, to see the glint of what had to be at least two dozen small metal weapons emanating from the lining.  

“Shit…”

“Nice, huh?” Ten prompted, and Taeyong felt compelled to nod in agreement.  Ten used his head to indicate the right side of his jacket, where he had stored a slew of small knives, brass knuckles, and throwing stars, among other things Taeyong didn’t recognize.  

“This side is for hand to hand combat,” he explained, smiling like a snake about to bite.  He indicated to his left next, where he had some longer and thicker knives, plyers, metal clamps, and a bouquet of slim needles, each about nine inches in length.  “And this side is for extracting information.”  Ten seemed to register Taeyong’s cautious surprise.  “I only show you this so you know what you’re up against,” he cooed.  

“Al-alright,” Taeyong almost swallowed his words.  “I appreciate it.”

Before Ten could terrorize him any further, the door swung open and everyone was looking to see who had arrived.  It was Yukhei, trailed by Yuta.

“Yup, they’re in here,” Yukhei was saying, holding the door open for Yuta to enter.  

Yuta stalked towards Taeyong, Ten, and Sicheng and the boys at the corner table all stood in greeting.

“Ten,” Yuta said in mock disapproval, “are you traumatizing my poor partner?”

“I’d call it ��educating,’” Ten responded.  “If he gets traumatized that’s simply a byproduct of necessary learning.”

“Okay, Ten, just don’t scare him off,” Yuta replied.

“It’s not like I could leave if I wanted to,” Taeyong grumbled, and Yuta shot him a cutting look, but it softened quickly into an expression of vague sadness.

“Taeyong, you’re wanted in room 2A.”

Taeyong schooled his face.  “Right away, Shategashira .”  

Yuta turned on his heel and exited the room.  Yukhei stayed by the door, Taeyong figured, because Ten needed him.  Taeyong followed hesitantly after, but Yukhei stopped him on the way out, looming over him but smiling so genuinely that Taeyong felt more comforted than scared.  

“If it’s any consolation,” Yukhei began, a thick accent coating his deep voice, “Sicheng kicks my ass all the time too.”  

Taeyong had a hard time believing that considering Yukhei, though he was roughly the same height as Sicheng, was noticeably larger in every other way.  He was probably either too nice or too reliant on blunt force.  Taeyong let out a breathy laugh.  

“Thanks.  That does make me feel a bit better.”

“No problem.”  

Taeyong left, hearing Ten’s call of “bye-bye, Taeyong!  I’ll see you again soon!” echo down the hall after him.  His stomach sank when he thought of the coldness he’d accidentally caused in Yuta, but the other man was nowhere to be found so he figured he’d just report where he was needed and find Yuta later.  

Room 2A was one floor down.  Taeyong tried to open it himself but it was locked, so he opted to bang on the metal to announce his presence.  It opened, a grinning pair of faces belonging to Johnny and Mina greeting him on the other side.  

“Yonggie!” Mina exclaimed, moving herself away from the entrance so Taeyong could pass her, which he did.  “Welcome!”

The room was little more than a cinder block box with a metal chair in the center.  If Taeyong didn’t trust Mina and Johnny at this point, he would be expecting something horrible to occur in such a room.  

“What’s going on, you guys?” Taeyong asked.  

Johnny closed the door and came to lean on the wall across from Taeyong.  

“Why don’t you take a seat,” he suggested, and Taeyong did.  “We’re here to impart on you some very valuable lessons.”  

Taeyong grimaced.  He was exhausted from what Sicheng had put him through and just wanted to find Yuta.  He’d had enough “education” and “lessons” for one day.  Nevertheless, he figured he had no choice but to indulge his captors.  

“What lessons are those?” Taeyong asked, rocking himself slightly against his chair.  Mina joined Johnny on the wall.

She answered, “Tactics for resisting interrogation.”

Taeyong started.  “Whoa.  Okay…”

“I know it sounds bad,” said Johnny, “but it’s really important for you to know.  Yuta asked us to do this.”

Taeyong felt his skin prickling as he grew more nervous.  Why didn’t Yuta just teach him himself, then? he wondered, posing the question out loud.  

Johnny smirked.  “Because, he has important shit to get done.  He can’t tend to his Yonggie constantly.  He has to delegate some of that.”

Taeyong gritted his teeth.  “Alright, alright.  But why do I need to know this?  I’m practically useless so why would anyone bother kidnapping me?”

Johnny slid down the wall until he was crouching against it, his face softening in mild concern.  

“First of all,” he said, “you should know you’re not useless, Taeyong.”

“Yeah!” Mina added.  “He might give you a hard time, but Johnny keeps telling me how much he likes having you around.”  Johnny smiled at this.  

“You hang around with a Lieutenant all day!” he said, and Mina finished his sentiment with, “you are TOTALLY kidnappable, Taeyong!”

Taeyong laughed at the preposterousness of this compliment.  “Thanks, guys.  I’m sorry, I’m just in a bit of a mood today,” he explained.  “And I guess you’re right.”

“Of course we are,” Johnny said, pushing back off the wall to standing.  “Anyway, now that we’re all on the same page, this is where things might get a bit unpleasant again.  We give this training to every member of the syndicate and all of our serious romantic partners, so contrary to your instincts, you are doubly in need of this.”

Taeyong squirmed, uncomfortable in a bad way over the fact that he wasn’t technically a syndicate member yet and uncomfortable in a good way at the knowledge that Yuta considered him serious .      

Mina smiled.  “Don’t worry, this has come in handy for me, for sure.”

“That just makes me worry more, you realize?” Taeyong replied with a grimace.  

“Okay, fair enough.  Sorry.  But it’s better you know than end up dead or betraying your friends and boyfriend!”

“Taeyong,” Johnny began.  “Let’s start with what you know.  When you picture a yakuza kidnapping, what’s happening?”

Taeyong’s mind flew to the image of Ten’s sparkling and deadly bat wings.  “I try not to picture that, but I saw what Ten carries around with him, so I think I have an idea.”

Johnny laughed hollowly as Mina watched him.  “Yeah, Ten’s a special guy.  I think he’s the only person I’ve met who genuinely enjoys that part of the job.  Anyway, so you know it could get bad.”

Johnny lifted his shirt to reveal his lower abdomen.  There was a long, thin scar across his obliques, slicing an inked koi fish in half.  

“Knives are common,” he explained vaguely.  “I got this one from a Sumiyoshi thug nicknamed ‘The Butcher.’  But we’ll get to that later.”

Taeyong swallowed thickly as he tried to steady his buzzing eyes.  Johnny continued.  

“Obviously, you know that we expect you not to divulge any sensitive information.  There are three things you are allowed to confirm for your captors though, just to get them thinking you won’t be a complete pain in their asses.  Those three things are name, rank, and clan.  Got it?”

Taeyong remembered how Yuta had lost patience quickly with the Yamaguchi assassin who refused to give any personal details.  He didn’t want to end up like that guy.  He nodded.  

“Lee Taeyong, Kumi-in, Inagawa-kai,” he recited, as if anyone in the room didn’t already know.

“But no more than that,” Johnny confirmed.  

“Another important thing to keep in mind,” Mina continued, “is that there are ways to avoid the worst tactics.  If they’ve gone to the trouble of capturing you, that’s because they think you have crucial information that they need.  It’s in their interest to keep you alive.”

Taeyong nodded along, determined to be a good student as he realized more and more clearly the very real possibility he might need to use some of what he was learning.  

“Although it can be tempting to act defiant as if you’re not bothered by the pain, and many experienced gangsters will do this to avoid hurting their fragile little egos,” Mina looked pointedly at Johnny, who just shrugged, guilty, “it can do you some good to play to the opposite.  You should exaggerate your injuries and pain.  Even if they try to use that against you and humiliate you, ultimately if they think you’re closer to death than you are they’ll let up much faster.  Make sense?”  

Taeyong nodded quickly.  Exaggerated pain, he could do that.  “Makes sense,” he confirmed.  

“Okay,” Johnny went on, “another thing.  Obviously if you ever did get kidnapped, we’d send some people out to find you, and hopefully they’d be successful.”

Taeyong shifted in his seat, watching Johnny start to pace.  Hopefully .  

“When you do get rescued, for that to end well you need to stay calm and not try to join in the fight.  If they see you moving around a lot or if you look like you’re about to break out of whatever restraints they have you in and fight back, then they’re way more likely to treat you like an enemy combatant and not like a prisoner.  You could get killed.  It’s kind of counterintuitive, but it’s important.”

Taeyong rolled his ankles, gaining some comfort out of the way the stretch and crack of the movement soothed his muscles.  He took a deep breath.

“Hey guys, why are we doing this right now?  Am I in danger?”    

Mina and Johnny exchanged a glance, sending Taeyong’s heart racing even faster than it already was as he tried to decipher their silent communication.  Mina spoke first.

“Not necessarily,” she said.

“We just want to prepare you,” Johnny added.  “Well, Yuta wanted us to prepare you because he’s been really worried since that assassin came after you two.  We can’t be sure that anything too serious will go down but if, say, a gang war does start over this Mitsubishi thing, we want you to be prepared.  Got it?”

“Oh…yeah, got it.”  Taeyong sighed.  “I supposed it’s too late to just…let me go, huh?”

Johnny’s face screwed up and Mina’s twitched.  Taeyong thought of their conversation at Johnny’s pachinko bar, assuming she too was pouring over the memory of her own warnings.  

“I – look,” Johnny began, and Taeyong already knew the answer he was about to receive.  “It’s been discussed, and the higher ups are adamant; you’ll be given the choice as soon as the Mitsubishi deal is secured, but no earlier.  They felt they needed to bring you on in the beginning, and I’m in no position to question if that was overkill, but at this point you’re certainly stuck, considering all the information you have.” Taeyong nodded, eyes fluttering to the floor as Johnny leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms.  He huffed a breath.  “Do you – do you want to leave, Taeyong?”

Taeyong blinked.  He didn’t know what to say.  He didn’t even know what leaving would mean or where he could ever go.  His new life was exciting in a way he’d always dreamed about and he liked the people around him more than he’d liked anyone in a long time; Johnny and Mina going out of their way to help him stay safe, the other Tora regiment members all welcoming him so easily, and Yuta…god, Yuta… At the same time though, Taeyong’s new life hadn’t managed to shake the feeling he so often had that he was floating through existence, incapable of being grounded even by the most intense experiences.  He wasn’t used to things working out for him.  Besides, the last time he made a major decision for himself, he’d been called xenophobic names and battered within an inch of his life.  

“I…don’t know,” he admitted.  “I don’t think so, anyway, but I don’t want to be a liability.”

Johnny smiled slightly.  “That’s not worth worrying about because you aren’t.”

Taeyong wasn’t convinced, but he nodded anyway.  “Alright,” he said.  “What else have you got to teach me?”

Johnny and Mina let him go after another half hour or so of discussion, teaching him how to school his demeanor to fit somewhere between deference and defiance, how to relax himself in a way that would prevent excessive bleeding and make blows easier to endure, and how to give answers that kept the line of questioning going but revealed nothing to the interrogators.  By the time he left room 2A, Taeyong was wondering if he should feel empowered or petrified, his mind careening from one emotion to the other with every new thought.  Once he was done processing, he decided to find Yuta.  

He’d barely had the chance to talk to him all day and it was weird for him.  The night before had been ridiculously intimate, Yuta fucking him so well, opening up to him about his past, and holding him as they fell asleep; so the weird shifts Taeyong had observed all day in Yuta between teasing and aloof were giving him whiplash since he couldn’t ask what was causing them.  He hoped Yuta wasn’t busy.  

“ Douzo .”

Taeyong’s heart sank when he opened Yuta’s office door and saw Kun there, though he tried not to show it.    

“Taeyong, what is it?” Yuta asked, an air of impatience radiating from him and from Kun as he turned around to see who was there.  

“ Shategashira ,” Taeyong saluted.  He felt like it was his first day all over again. “Sorry to interrupt.  I was just hoping to speak with you whenever you’re free.”

Yuta’s expression softened.  “Of course.  Why don’t you sit by the window while we finish up?”

“Thank you,” Taeyong said, bowing sheepishly and settling into one of the indicated chairs.  “Excuse me.”

Kun looked sideways at Taeyong, silent.  

“You can speak freely in front of him,” assured Yuta.  Kun nodded and pulled his attention back to the matter at hand.  

“I just don’t understand how they would have gotten ahold of that information.  Could it have been through Donghyuck’s crew?”  By “they” Taeyong assumed Kun meant the Yamaguchi-gumi.  

Yuta shook his head, placing his fingers in a check mark shape at his chin.  “I doubt it.  Donghyuck is extremely careful.”

Kun was growing exasperated.  Taeyong felt like maybe this was an interaction he shouldn’t be witnessing.  He didn’t quite know why he felt that way, though.  

“Well, Yuta, there has to be a weak link somewhere, and I trust that you’ll eliminate it.  We’re already in a less stable position than I was expecting upon arrival.”

Yuta smiled accommodatingly.  “Thank you for your confidence.  The leak could have also come from a different regiment, but I’m doing all I can to weed out whoever is responsible.”

“Good,” said Kun.  “Our success and our partnership could depend on this.”

“I understand.”

Right then, Chenle and Renjun showed up at the door, having finished a shopping trip down the street, to tell Kun that Ten was looking for him.  Taeyong thought he saw Kun direct a sliver of a smile his way as he left.  

Yuta sat up and joined Taeyong by the window in the chair to his left.  He sat and sighed, a big, open smile overtaking his face.  There was the whiplash again.

“Hi baby,” he said.

“Hi.”

“Did Johnny and Mina give you the talk?”

Taeyong snorted a laugh, looking at Yuta from under his fringy bangs.  “Yeah, they did.”

“You okay?” Yuta asked.  Taeyong shrugged.

“Could’ve been worse,” he guessed.  “Good stuff to know.”

Yuta leaned in.  “Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

“I guess a little.  But there was other stuff too.”

Taeyong looked around Yuta’s office.  He’d been stuck almost all day in rooms with concrete walls and fluorescent lighting, and it was making him want to jump out of his skin.  He told Yuta to wait a moment for him to get up and turn off the lights.  On second thought, while he was up and about, he opened the window to flush the room of the stench of stale cigarette smoke.  Yuta watched him with caution as he underwent his little chores.  Taeyong turned from the window and made his way back to his chair, eyes finally able to relax in the dimness.  

“Johnny and Mina said you’re worried I might be in danger.”

Yuta sighed again.  “I don’t necessarily think you’re in imminent danger, but I want to be safe.  It’s always a possibility.  Sorry if I scared you.”

“Like I told you this morning,” Taeyong repeated.  “You don’t scare me.  I just want you to be up front with me.”

“Up front, huh?” Yuta paused, his eyes flitting over the floor in thought.  “Truth is I’ve been worried about you since the Yamaguchi assassin.  It’s always risky to take on a new recruit, or a lover for that matter,” Taeyong blushed at the word, “but up until that point I don’t think the danger felt as real.  I would never forgive myself if I let something bad happen to you, Taeyong.”

One of the things Taeyong had been wondering about clicked into place for him.  “Your dream last night…is that what – ”

“Yes.  That’s part of why I was worried about frightening you.  Thought I might have said something while unconscious about you, I don’t know, getting abducted or something.”

“You didn’t,” said Taeyong, breathing a laugh.  

“Good.”  Yuta smiled, gaze trained at the open window and fingers fiddling with the bottom of his blazer.  Taeyong wondered if he was nervous to make eye contact.  “And then later when you mentioned how you’re basically stuck with me, then I felt like shit all over again because it’s true: you’re essentially my hostage.”  With that, Yuta finally looked Taeyong in the face.  “I just don’t know what to do when you say things like that. I know this seems silly, I mean I’ve never shied away from doing arguably unethical things before, but I couldn’t help but ask myself if you even like me -- ”

The pressure that had been threatening to send Taeyong shooting out of his own body finally became too much, and in lieu of doing the impossible, he found himself damming up Yuta’s stream of consciousness with a kiss.    

“There we go,” he teased, pulling away and reveling in the awestruck look on Yuta’s face.  “I had to shut you up somehow.”

Yuta’s face hadn’t moved since the kiss ended and a smile was spreading over it like melting butter. “That’s no way to speak to your commander,” he teased back, sounding a little drunk on relief.  Taeyong spoke.    

“ Shategashira , I hope you can forgive me.  But you are being ridiculous.  I like you, okay?  And it’s not because I’m scared or brainwashed.  I like you because I like you .  I like the way you make me feel.  I’m sorry for making you think I wanted to leave.”  

Yuta took Taeyong’s hand and kissed it.  “ I’m sorry for being such a basket case.  Aish, it’s embarrassing, huh?”

Taeyong snorted.  “Oh please.  If you weren’t insecure sometimes, I might actually be afraid of you.”

He smiled to himself, wondering for a moment if maybe he needed to stop thinking so much and just bask in the strange twist of fate that had brought him and Yuta together.  They were still getting to know each other, but Taeyong had never been with someone so charismatic yet so open.  If he was going to risk being kidnapped and tortured it might just end up being worth it.  Taeyong allowed himself to be lost enough in thought that a few seconds felt like minutes and he barely heard it when the door flung open without warning.  Yuta heard it though, wrenching his fingers from where they were laced between Taeyong’s.  

“Yuta-san!” said Renjun as he entered the room trailed by Chenle. “What’s going on in here?”

Yuta glared.  “Didn’t anyone teach you to knock?  That’s very disrespectful.”

“Sorry, didn’t know you had anything to hide,” Chenle quipped.  “Anyway, Kun is looking for you again.”

Yuta stood, reluctantly it seemed to Taeyong.  “Why couldn’t he send someone else to fetch me?”

Chenle rolled his eyes as they left the room and on the way out Taeyong heard Renjun explain, “because, he told us if all we were gonna do was loiter he might as well put us to use.”

Taeyong giggled, catching himself when Yuta peered back through the door.  “Hey, you can go home.  Or stick around and make some friends, yeah?”

Taeyong nodded.  “Yeah,” he agreed, and Yuta rapped his knuckles against the door with a grin before he was gone.  Taeyong stood, determined to have some Triad friends by the end of the day.    

[prettyinlimegreenboots]

I love you. You enormously stubborn pain in the ass.”

I’ve been watching a lot of “Code Black” and “ER” so I decided to put our favorites in as Medical Professionals. Normally, family isn’t allowed to treat other family members but just pretend that doesn’t exist. There are cuss words in this one. 

December 18, 2019 8:30AM

It was a normal shift, well as normal as the emergency room could be. There had been no major shootings or stabbings though the day was still young, he thought as he sat at the nurse’s station filling out paperwork. 

“Why did I choose to go into Emergency Medicine again?” A chart was thrown on the desk as Katherine “Plums” Plumber, PA slumped over looking at Spot. “I just diagnosed my fifth case of the flu. This should be for the general practice peeps, not me.” 

Spot grinned at his favorite colleague. “I’m sorry princess, but you’re drawing alllllll the short straws tonight.” 

“Damn you Conlon - if I find out you’re the one assigning me cases, as head nurse, it’ll be your head. Next one I get I’m requesting you to join me!” She pointed at him as the bay doors were thrown open and a stretcher was pushed through. She grabbed her stethoscope and pointed to him. “Guess I spoke too soon. You’re with me. What do we have?”

“A 29 year old male who is complaining about severe back pains. Pain level is between 6-7. Blood in urine.” The EMT announced as they wheeled him in, screaming about drugs. 

Spot followed along already prepping an IV line and anticipating any directions Plums would throw his way. The two worked in tandem as additional nurses and orderlies made their way to the bay. 

Within minutes, they had diagnosed him with kidney stones and sent him for an ultrasound to see what the prognosis would be. Making his way back to the nurse’s desk, he threw his gloves in the trash and sighed as he sunk into a chair. He relaxed as he listened to the soothing sounds of the ER; it truly was his home away from home. 

“What are your plans for when you leave this place?” He looked up and grinned at Albert, who had his own chart and running his hand through his hair, messing it up. 

Looking at the clock on the wall, he groaned seeing he had another 2 hours. “Sleeping. Race will be home around 4 so I’m hoping I can get a good nap before he gets home. You?” 

“Surprising Finch with dinner tonight.” Albert grinned. 

Spot studied him for a minute before his hand slammed the desk. “You’re proposing tonight aren’t you?” 

“Why dontcha tell the whole department, Conlon?” Albert dragged out as Plums slid over in her chair. 

“He’ll say yes, Albert. You don’t have to worry.” Plums grinned. “He’s been dropping hints for the last four months.” 

Albert smiled. “Thanks Plums. At least someone knows what to say.” 

“Hey now! I gave you all my advice two months ago when you bought the ring.” Spot scrawled his signature across the paper looking between his two friends. “Besides I haven’t told Racer anything and that’s a damn miracle for sure.”

Albert chuckled at his best friend's antics. “Does he suspect anything?” 

“Nope and he won’t.” Spot said as the doors were thrown open with the sight he didn’t want to see. 

“Plums.” He called her name as he pushed off the desk, rolling his chair backwards and onto his feet running to the doors before anyone could comprehend what was going on. He heard feet behind him as he grabbed a stretcher and rolled it towards the door. 

“What the hell happened?” Spot asked, looking between the two males, one of which had blood running down his face. 

“Your fiancé is an idiot.” Jack Kelly looked between Spot and his wife. 

Between Jack and Spot, they heaved him onto the stretcher before wheeling him back to the bay. “What happened?” 

“He has first period planning as do I so he came down to the shop. The next thing I see his head is bleeding and his arm is weird.” Jack said looking between Kat and Spot. 

“Albert, take Jack out to the waiting room.” Kat said, giving her husband a look as Spot started mopping up the blood on Race’s head. Kat was busy checking on a concussion and his injured arm. 

Kat looked up and sighed. “He needs stitches and a possible cast. Spot, you okay doing that?” 

Shaking his head, he looked at her. “I’m not steady. Get Romeo to do it. I'll start his IV.” 

She nodded, calling Romeo to start the stitches as he focused on inserting the IV. At that time, Race started to come around. “Where am I? Don’t infect me with anything …. My fiancé’s a nurse.” 

“Hey, hey Race. You’re in the ER, Jack brought you in. Do you remember what happened?” Spot asked, leaning close to him. 

“Spottie? No what happened?” Race cracked an eye open, squinting at the brightness. “I hurt, Spot.”

Lacing his fingers with Race’s he squeezed them. “What hurts, Race?” 

“My head and my arm.” He groaned. “It’s fuzzy, Spottie.” 

He looked up at Kat before looking at Race. “What’s fuzzy, Race?”

“Your face.” Race said, closing his eyes. 

Kat put a smile on her face as she leaned over Race. “Hey Race, can you open your eyes for me?” 

He cracked them open with a slight grin. “Lucky me, I got the dream team.” 

“You did.” She smiled. “How many fingers am I holding up?” 

“Three.” He rolled his eyes, his non-injured hand flying up to cradle his head. “Ow Ow ow …. that was dumb, make it stop.” 

Spot bit his lip to keep from laughing. “Make what stop?” 

“Spinning of the room.” Race shut his eyes tightly, willing it to stop. 

Uncapping the IV, Spot pushed the syringe that Kat had handed him full of pain medicine. “There, you should be okay in a few minutes. Can you open your eyes for me and Plums? We have a few questions for you.” 

He sighed, cracking open an eye. “Alright, hit me with these questions.” 

“What year is it?” Kat asked, flashing her penlight in his eyes, watching them slowly dilate. 

“2019, unless I was knocked out longer than that.”

Race chuckled. 

Shaking her head, she smiled. “Nope, you’re good. When’s your wedding date?” 

“January 17, 2020.” 

“What’s your dog’s name?” 

“Uhh … Sassie.” 

Kat looked over at Spot giving him a look. “I’m going to diagnose him with a mild concussion. I want him up in radiology getting a look at that hand. We’ll brace it here but he may need a steadier cast. Spot, wanna take him while I go talk to Jack?” 

She had him a chart and left the room. Removing his gloves, he gave a look at his husband. “How are you feeling?” 

“Like I’m floating. Is that normal?” Race asked, as Romeo smoothed a white bandage on his head. Spot smiled in appreciation. 

“Yea but you’ll be okay. We’re going to get you upstairs for a X-Ray.” Spot patting his shoulder, reaching for the phone to call an orderly to move Race. He braced his arm and stood back when a man came to move the bed. “We’re heading to Radiology, Specs.” 

Race gave his fiancé a look. “Is radiology really necessary? My arm is fine.” 

“Uh huh. You heard Kat, we’re gonna go get it looked at.” Spot walked beside the gurney as they got in the elevator. “You don’t have a choice in the matter.” 

Race pouted. “But Spottie, I’m fine.” 

Specs snorted hearing Race call Spot his nickname. “Racetrack, stop while you’re ahead.” 

He sighed, closing his eyes feeling the gurney move from the elevator. Specs parked the gurney across from radiology as Spot quickly thanked him. “I’m going to see where you are in line. I’ll be right back.” 

Race hummed before Spot disappeared into the adjacent room. Luckily, radiology was empty and they were able to take Race right away. 

“Told ya I’m fine, Spot. Quit worrying.” Race said as they moved him back to the gurney as the tech looked at the x-rays. 

“Actually Mr Higgins, you have a fracture on your ulna, which is probably going to require a cast.” The Radiographer, named Blink, gave Spot a look. 

Blink held up the x-ray that had a circle around a thin silver line. “It’s thin but it’s there.” 

“Thanks Blink.” Spot took the X-ray from him before moving the gurney through the door where Specs was waiting. 

The two moved Race through the halls before putting him in an actual room within the ER. “You’re also staying here a lot longer than planned, Racer.”

“What?!?” He exclaimed, sitting up which agitated his head causing him to groan. “Why?” 

Race texted Kat that they were in the room before giving his fiancé a look. “You have a mild concussion, they’re gonna want to keep you most of the day to make sure you’re not gonna die. Also we need to get a cast on that arm.” 

“Hey guys. How’s it going?” Kat asked, coming into the room, grabbing the x-ray, holding it up to the light to review it. 

“I wanna go home, tell Spot that I’m fine and I don’t have to stay.” Race said as Race adjusted his bed so he was on an incline instead of laying flat. 

Kat’s tongue poked out of her mouth as she studied the x-ray and shook her head. “Sorry, Race, but Spot’s right this time. You’ve got a mild concussion, along with the stitches and the cast we’re gonna put on, I want to keep you in here for a bit to watch you and make sure nothing crazy happens.” 

“I wanna have a second opinion ….. I don’t like the dream team so much anymore!” Race gave them both a pout as Spot chuckled. 

Kat gave the two a look. “I could have Talmore come in and look at him.” 

“Oh no! He already thinks Race is pretty - he’s not touching him. Race, a couple of more hours in here and you’ll be free.” Spot shook his head, looking at Race. “I love you. You enormously stubborn pain in the ass.”

Race’s eyes lit up. “ I love you too but you love my stubborn ass.” 

“No comment.”

Kat laughed, shaking her head. “Only you Race. Spot, go clock out. I’ll get Albert to do his cast.” 

“I can do it...” He gave her a look. 

Motioning to the nurse’s station, she smiled. “Go clock out, gather your stuff, grab Jack and come back here. You are almost dead on your feet.” 

He nodded, leaning over and kissing Race’s head, whispering an ‘I Love You’ before promising he’d be back shortly. 

“So how much longer do I need to be in here?” Race asked looking at Kat. 

Looking at the clock that now read 11:00, Kat sighed, handing him a menu from the bedside table. “We need to get some food in you first and you’ve got to finish that IV bag. I’ll come check up on you at 1:30 and if you’re good, I’ll release you.”

“I’m sorry.” Race looked at her whispering the apology. 

Kat sighed, setting the chart down, sitting in the chair beside the bed, relaxing for the first time since Jack brought him in. “For what?” 

“Making yours and Spot’s worst nightmare come true.” Race played with his fingers, avoiding looking at his sister. 

Reaching up, she caught his fingers and laced them with hers. “It’s alright Race. We’re just glad you’re not more seriously hurt. Yea, we dread the day any of our family ends up here but I’m glad it wasn’t anymore serious. Now figure out what you want for lunch and when Spot comes back, you can order. Let him or I know if anything doesn’t feel right or you feel dizzy, alright?” 

“Thanks Kat.” 

“You’re welcome.” She leaned over and kissed his forehead. “Don’t give Spot too much of a hard time. He’s really worried about you.” 

She left the room, leaving him alone as he flipped through the menu. Spot always hated the food, but did mention the mac and cheese was actually pretty good. He decided on that along with a salad and a chocolate chip cookie when the door was pushed open. 

Jack grinned seeing his brother while Spot looked annoyed. “Where’s Kat? Did you decide lunch?” 

“I think she went to do rounds.” Race said as Spot nodded, putting his stuff in the corner of the room. “Mac and cheese, salad and a chocolate chip cookie.”

“Anything to drink?” Spot gave him a look while picking up the phone. 

“Coke.” Spot tilted his head, trying to figure out if the saline in the IV would dilute the Coke enough - it wouldn’t. “Try again, Race.” 

“Ugh killjoy.” Race groaned. “Sprite then.”

Spot nodded, placing the order as Jack looked over Race’s injuries. “You doing alright?”

“Yea, got a fracture on my ulna, a pretty new bandage and apparently I’m concussed.” Race said, as Spot hung up the phone. “And I’m getting a cast at some point.” 

A knock on the door caused them all to look up. Albert grinned pushing open the door. “Hiya fellas. I hear someone needs a cast.” 

“Albie, I have a fracture on my ulna and the dream team thinks I need a cast.” Race pouted giving his best friend a look. 

Albert gave Race a look. “And you’re gonna be the dumbass to defy them?” 

“Well ….. not me but you could.” Race grinned. 

Laughing, he grabbed the necessary supplies before shaking his head. “Dude, I actually like my job. Besides you don’t piss off head nurse Spot or doctor Plums. It ain’t pretty. Just ask Spot about the other day.” 

“Dude, I’m gonna stick you with all the flu cases for the next two weeks if you don’t shut up.” Spot gave him a look as Albert held his hands up innocently. 

Albert turned to Race and gave him a look. “Sorry you’re on your own with defying them. Leave me outta it. What color do you want your cast?” 

“Wimp. What are my options?” Race asked, as Albert crossed the room to open a drawer, looking at the packages inside. 

Albert sighed. “Pink, green, blue, yellow, red, or purple.” 

“What color green?” Race asked with a grin. 

Albert and Spot both groaned while Jack chuckled. “Lime green like your ugly ass shoes at home.” 

“That’ll work.” Race nodded as Spot collapsed on the couch and threw his arm over his face. “What’s wrong Spottie?” 

“I’m tired Race. I was really looking forward to a nap after work before you got home.” Spot sighed, throwing his arm off his face. “I didn’t anticipate the day going like this.”

Jack looked between the two, starting to feel the tension in the room. “Do you guys need anything?” 

“Nah, I think we’re good. Thanks Jack.” Spot stood and gave him a hug before settling in the chair beside the bed. 

Jack leaned over, gave Race a kiss on the forehead before whispering something to him. “I’m heading out but let me know if you need anything. Bye Al.” 

Watching him leave, the room was quiet as Albert put the cast on. Spot held onto Race’s fingers as they watched Al work. “There it should be set in about 5 minutes. Don’t get it wet, Race. Spot knows how to take care of it.” 

“Thanks Albie.” 

“You’re welcome, Race.” Looking over at Spot, Al gave him a look.  “Need anything, Spot?” 

Shaking his head, Spot smiled. “No, I added something to Race’s order and I stole a can of Mountain Dew from the nurse’s station. But if I don’t see you before we leave, have fun tonight.” 

Albert’s face lit up at that. “Will do. Thanks.”

Watching him leave, Spot sighed, leaning back in the chair. He wanted to say something but he didn’t want to unload on Race. He felt Race squeeze his hand, looking up at him. “I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” Spot’s face softened, hearing the fear in Race’s voice. 

Race’s eyes were wet with tears as everything hit him from the morning. “For scaring you, making you worry and having your worst nightmare come true.” 

Standing up from the chair, Spot sat on the side of the bed and pulled Race into his arms, letting him sob. “I’m sorry you got hurt but dammit Race, my heart stopped when I saw you and Jack at the doors. I think I might’ve aged at least 10 years. I want to be pissed off at you but I’m just really glad you’re okay. Just promise me you’ll be more careful?” 

He felt Race nod on his chest as someone knocked on the door. Looking up, Spot rubbed his fingers under his eyes before calling to come in. An orderly came in and delivered Race’s lunch before asking if they needed anything else. She left after they said they were good. 

Spot grabbed a covered cup before sitting in the chair giving Race a look. “Eat!” 

“What did you get Spot?” Race sniffled, wiping his eyes before pouring the dressing on his salad. 

“Mac and cheese. They always have it for the patients but not always for the staff.” Spot popped a forkful in his mouth savoring the taste. “There’s one good thing about you being here - Mac and cheese for me for lunch.” 

Pulling out his phone, he looked at the texts that had come through. He didn’t see one from Medda, not knowing if she knew about Race yet. He sent her a quick text. 

Race’s in the ER with a concussion, 8 stitches and a fracture ulna. He’s okay and we’ll be going home shortly. I’ll have him call you in a bit. 

“Anything interesting going on in the world?” Race asked, motioning to his phone. 

Locking it and slipping it in his pocket, Spot shook his head. “Nah. You’re not missing a thing. Did you drive this morning or did Jack pick you up?”

“Jack picked me up. Why?” Race replied, starting on his Mac and cheese. “Holy shit this is amazing.” 

“Toldya.” Spot ate some more with a grin. “Trying to figure out if I needed to get your car home. I’m guessing you’re off work for a week or so. Do you need anything from school?” 

“My bag but Jack can grab that.” Race said, trying to think if there’s anything else. “I’ll text him later.” 

Silence enveloped the room, as Race slowly ate his chocolate chip cookie. He couldn’t get Spot’s earlier confession out of his mind. “Do you wanna take a quick nap?” 

Spot bounced his feet, shaking his head at Race’s question “Nah … was actually thinking of going to get some charts to work on. Why?” 

“I was going to see if you want to come lay with me. I’m not feeling the best and wanna cuddle.” Spot toed off his shoes, carefully crawling into the bed with his arm around Race as he laid his head on Spot’s chest. Spot gently ran his fingers through Race’s hair as his breath evened out. Looking up at the bag of saline, Spot sighed knowing they had at least an hour more to go. 

Looking down, Spot relaxed seeing Race sleeping soundly. He sighed, running a hand through his hair and thanked his lucky stars that his world was okay. A quiet tap sounded at the door as he said to come in. 

Kat’s face softened seeing the two of them in the bed. “How is he?” 

“He just ate and cried but he’s doing good. No complaints of pain but the meds we gave him would eliminate that.” Spot said looking up at the saline bag. “I’m guessing he has 30-45 minutes left on that.” 

She nodded. “Yea that’s what I’m thinking. I’m going to keep him off work for a week, I don’t want that concussion getting worse. But that’s not why I came in. There’s some paperwork you need to fill out.” 

“Surprised I’m just getting it now.” Spot rolled his eyes. “If you bring it in, I’ll complete it.” 

Kat put a hand on his arm. “Will do. How are you doing?”

“Better now that he’s fine and sleeping. But I was scared there for a moment.” He looked up at her with a smile. “And you, how are you?” 

Shrugging, she looked at Race. “The same. Broke down with Jack earlier and had a good cry so that seemed to help but I think my heart stopped when I saw them in the doorway.” 

“I told Race the same. I’m just glad he’s alright and it wasn’t anything more serious.” Spot pressed a kiss to Race’s forehead, sighing. 

She patted his arm. “Same, Spot. I’ll get those papers and I’ll be right back. You need anything?”

“Alcohol?” He asked, giving her a grin as she laughed. 

“Sorry that’ll have to be later. But Race won’t be able to have any for a couple of days.” She grinned. 

Spot gave her a look before shooing her from the room. “Thanks Plums.” 

“You’re welcome. Let me know if you need anything.” She took her leave, returning a few moments later with a stack of papers before leaving the two alone.

He quickly filled out the admission paperwork that was a couple of hours late. Reviewing them a final time, he scrawled his signature on the line before throwing them on the table at their feet. 

“Mmmmm what time is it?” Race murmured, shifting slightly. 

Running his hand through his hair, Spot started humming before whispering. “You’ve been asleep about 20 minutes. You’ve got some time before your saline bag is done.” 

“It’s bright, Spottie.” Race whined, burying his head deeper into his chest. “Can you turn the light off?” 

Reaching behind him, he flicked the light above the bed off. “That better?” 

“Yes. Thanks Spot. Love you.” He murmured sleepily. 

Pressing his lips to his head, Spot smiled, humming. “Love you too.” 

The opening of the door startled him as he yawned. “You okay?” 

Looking over at Kat as she washed her hands, she smirked at him. “Yea I must’ve fallen asleep. What time is it?” 

“1:30. Saline bag is almost done so I’m going to disconnect it. Wanna wake sleeping beauty up?” She put a pair of gloves on before smiling at the pair. 

Leaning near Race’s ear, Spot pressed a kiss to his cheek before coaxing him away. “Wake up Racer. Kat’s here to kick us out.” 

Groaning, he stretched before cracking his eyes open “I can go home?” 

“If you wake up.” Kat smiled at the grogginess in his voice as she clamped the IV line as the door opened. 

Albert grinned at them. “Thought you guys were already gone?”

“Nah he had to finish a bag of saline before Plums released him.” Spot said as Albert grabbed a pair of gloves and some supplies. 

Spot pushed himself out of the bed, standing near it gripping Race’s hand. “Hey Race, look at me. Don’t look at them.” 

Race looked over at Spot with a grin “Why?”

“Just don’t. Tell me a story, Race.” Spot said, motioning Kat and Albert to go ahead. 

“A story huh? Well Jack likes to come hang out in my Science Class. He has a habit of leaving something random in the room. Some of my students have him as a teacher so he always tells them to look for something out of place. It drives me absolutely bunkers but the kids really enjoy it.” He shrugged, as Albert put gauze on the IV site.

“Race you gotta keep the gauze on for a couple of hours then you can replace it with a bandaid.” Albert gave his friend a look before looking up at Spot who grinned. Albert threw the IV materials always before leaving the room. 

Race flashed them a thumbs up before looking over at Kat. “Can I leave?” 

“Slow your roll.” She gave her brother-in-law a look. “I’ve gotta draw up discharge papers. You’re going to be off work for a week, giving you some time to heal. Take it easy, Race.” She paused, giving him a no-nonsense look. “No alcohol, no strenuous activity, and no baths. Sponge baths for the first couple of days, then you can shower. Spot, you know what you’re looking for. Any questions?” 

Race’s face fell at the restrictions as he looked at Spot who shook his head. “I think we’re good. Thanks Plums.” 

“I’ll come check up on him the day after tomorrow. You’re welcome. Let me get those papers then I’m kicking you to the curb.” She grinned at them, walking out the door. 

Race leaned up and kissed Spot’s chin, the closest place he could reach. “Thanks Spottie. Can we get pizza for dinner?” 

“If that’s what you want, sure we can get pizza for dinner. No pineapple.” Spot shot him a look. “I don’t care if you’re hurt, no pineapple.” 

Race pouted, as the door was pushed open revealing Kat and Specs with a wheelchair. “Kat back me up - pineapple is good on pizza right?” 

“Sure is. Spot let him have pineapple. He’s hurt.” Kat winked at Race as he laughed. She handed Spot the stack of papers. “You know what’s included in here. Let me know if you have any questions. Race, seriously take it easy tonight, watch movies and hang out on the couch type of night.” 

“Thanks Kat. Can I go?” Race looked between the three in the room. 

Spot grabbed his bag from the corner before heading for the door. “I’ll meet you at the exit in a few minutes. Thanks Plums, Specs.” 

He disappeared as Kat and Specs helped him into the wheelchair before pushing him from the room. Several stops were made along the way as their friends said goodbye to him. As promised, Spot was waiting by the exit, his truck idling with the passenger’s door open. With some help, they got Race into the truck, Spot thanking Kat and Specs again. “Ready to go home?” 

“Take me home Spottie.” Race said with a yawn as he pulled away from the curb and headed home. 

Thanks @wide-eyed--wonderer for sending this prompt. This is 4390 words of pure mayhem and Race being Race. Let me know what you think! 

[snickletastic]

A Fake Mustache {Jason Todd x Reader + Dick Grayson}

warnings~ minor sexual assault, creepy older men, cursing, alcohol

summary~ dick and reader must go on an undercover mission to retrieve information for bruce, but come across a few dilemmas along the way

a/n~ hey guys! ive been getting some pretty crappy writers block recently, and i ended up writing two versions of this story, but ultimately decided this was the winner. im not quite sure if this idea had been done before, so im sorry if it bears any accidental similarities to anybody elses work. i really enjoyed writing this one, so i hope you guys like it :)

Jason tugged at the hem of your dress inadvertently, tuned out of the conversation you and Dick were having. The tug made you stop mid-sentence and turn to look at your boyfriend. His hair was scruffy, his jacket collar crooked. He looked like a disheveled 12 year old, despite being the giant he is.

“What’s up?” You questioned him.

“..Huh? Oh, nothing...” Jason muttered before leaning closer into your ear so Dick wouldn’t overhear, “Can we go soon?”

You gently rolled your eyes at his request, “Sure, Jay. Let me finish talking to your brother first.”

Jason groaned, turned, and walked to the nearest seat to wait for you to finish talking. Dick side-eyed his younger brother and continued the conversation, “So this mission will only take one night, but it’ll be a few hours.”

“Tomorrow night?”

“Yup,” Dick nodded, “Iceberg Lounge, 9 p.m.”

“Works for me, I’ll see you then,” You began to walk away.

“Wait!” You turned around, “Wear something nice,” Dick said cheekily, earning a loud scoff from Jason, who didn’t appreciate the comment.

You gave Dick an awkward thumbs up and took Jason’s arm, leaving the manor before Jason got too unruly. While walking out to the car, Jason dragged behind you.

“Will you pick up the pace?” You whined.

Jason stopped in his tracks, “I don’t want you going on this mission with him.”

“Why not? It’s perfectly safe, there won’t be any fighting involved. It’s just an undercover mission,” you shrugged.

He crossed his arms, “I should be the one you go undercover with. Not him.”

“I love you, but you know he’s a bit more charismatic with the bad guys...you just speak with your fists.”

“Yeah well,” Jason awkwardly tramped past you, “It works.” he murmured.

You checked the time on your phone, 8:58. Dick still wasn’t there, and you were standing outside of the lounge in the freezing cold. The music was blasting so loudly that you could feel the vibrations on the sidewalk. The line of shady individuals was beginning to get longer as the peak party hours crept up. A loud engine echoed from blocks away, making you shutter. Loud cars are so obnoxious. It seemingly only got more and more boisterous before you realized it was driving towards the club. A bright red Corvette pulled up along the curb, and the window rolled down revealing non other than Dick himself.

“I thought I told you to wear something nice,” he sneered. You choked at the bluntness of his comment, about to defend your dark purple cocktail dress. “Relax, y/n, I’m just screwing with ya. You look beautiful,” he winked and revved the engine, making the crowd outside of the club stare at both of you.

“You’re drawing too much attention! I thought this was meant to be a low-profile mission,” you complained.

Dick raised an eyebrow, “How isn’t this low-profile?”

You furrowed your eyebrows, “Is this Bruce’s car?”

Dick scratched his head, “....Yeah...um...don’t tell him I borrowed it for the night....please?”

“Only if you stop being so flashy with it,” you crossed your arms.

Dick got out of the car and tossed his keys to the valet. The crowd was still looking at him, and the women were especially captivated by his presence. You cringed at all of the eyes set on you, but Dick bathed in the attention. He wrapped his arm around your waist and led you to the door, giving the bouncer a wad of cash in order to skip the line. When the club doors opened, the music deafened your ears.

Dick continued to steer you through the crowds, shoving through creepy men who stared at you and shimmying past rowdy women who were throwing themselves at him. Finally, the two of you stopped before a red rope and a booth filled with older men in suits smoking cigars. Your mouth gently dropped at the sight, it looked like it belonged in a movie scene. There were two young women squeezed in between the group of men, whispering into their ears despite being more than half their ages. You shivered at the sight and squeezed Dick’s hand unwittingly. He quickly turned his head towards you, scanning your face for danger. You just scrunched your face and mouthed, “sorry.”

A large man interrupted your silent exchange, “Who are you?”

“I am John Booth, this is my, er- partner,” he looked around the area, then motioned a hand towards you, “Beth...Macanudo.”

The bouncer raised his eyebrow and scoffed, “Beth Macanudo?”

You half smiled and bounced upwards on your heels, “That’s me!”

The bouncer looked at the both of you brazenly, seemingly in disbelief that you belonged behind the rope. Before he turned you away, a voice piped up from behind him, “Let them in.” The bouncer didn’t testify, immediately unhooking the rope to allow you in.

You avoided eye contact with the large group of criminals, looking at the floor as you moved into the booth. Dick sat on the outside, unwittingly pushing you close to a creepy old man who was eyeing you up and down while licking his lips. You felt nauseous, but decided to stay quiet to avoid blowing cover. 

Dick scanned the table, then let out an audible groan. You looked up to see no one other than Jason on the other side of the booth- wearing a fake mustache. You immediately covered your face with your hands, shaking your head at the situation you’ve now been put in. He had a blonde woman awkwardly squeezed between him and a crime lord, but he was clearly ignoring her; staring at you. His poker face convinced you to play along with the scheme.

Dick cleared his throat and narrowed his eyes at his brother, clearly angry that he didn’t trust the two of you enough to do the mission alone. It bothered you, too, but you should have expected nothing less from Jason; who once slashed a mans tires and smashed his car windows for catcalling you while you both walked past him. His jealousy could get reckless, but his protective side could borderline loony. Now, he sat with 7 playing cards in one hand and a glass of whiskey in the other, staring the both of you down.

“What are your names?” He stayed in character.

“John Booth,” Dick slyly wrapped his arm around your shoulder, “This is my girlfriend, Beth Macanudo.”

Jason let out a laugh, “Macanudo? Like the cigar?” He lifted the box sitting in front of him, “Which just so happens to be the exact brand we’re smoking? Brilliant.”

Some of the crime lords laughed, some looked suspicious, examining the pair sitting at the end of the booth with ridiculous names. “What are you getting at?” Dick squinted. 

“Oh, nothing,” Jason leaned back into his seat, “Listen, fellas, I know these two. They’re legitimate.” He assured the group, who seemed to mellow out at the verification. 

Dick stiffly took his arm from your shoulder as Jason’s glare become harsher. Was Jason really ridiculous enough to blow the cover? You considered it for a moment, then decided he wouldn’t put you in danger like that. You twiddled your thumbs on the table, trying not to look at Jason, displaying resentment towards him for being such a child. In the middle of your thoughts, you felt a pair of hands clutch yours. “What are you so nervous for sweetheart?” The old man to the right of you licked his chapped lips again.

“Er-um, nothing. Just...tired, is all,” you uncomfortably murmured, trying not to draw attention from the meeting. 

“If you’re tired, we could head back to my room upstairs,” the old man inched closer to you, his breath hitting you face. It smelled like booze and smoke, making you choke up. Jason immediately noticed the man's hand on yours, and you trying to pull away. He felt his temper rising as Dick was oblivious to the interaction next to him, rambling on about drug trades. He shifted uneasily, trying his best not to lose character. 

He tried to catch the attention of Dick with eye contact and small nods towards you, but he clearly wasn’t catching on. That is, until you yanked your hands away from the man so hard that your elbow hit Dick in the arm. 

“What’s going on?” Dick questioned the man grabbing at you. 

Jason bounced his leg, trying to keep himself quiet.

“She just wants a little love, is all!” The creep grinned and reached for your thigh.

You backed further into Dick and pushed the man away.

Jason rubbed his temples watching the scene play out, trying to stay calm.

Dick didn’t want to blow your covers, but he couldn’t sit there as you writhed towards him trying to get away from a pervert. “Don’t touch her,” Dick pushed his arms away from you, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Who the fuck d’ya think you are? If I wanna fuck your bitch then that’s what I’ll do, understand?”

A gun cocked and the three of you stopped quarreling, turning your heads towards Jason who was now standing up with a pistol aimed at the creep. “One more word and I’ll fucking kill you.”

The criminal gulped, “Don’t be so brash, son. It’s just a whor-”

Jason leaned across the table and pushed his gun towards the mans temple, “Remove your hands. Now.”

The old man let go of you and leaned back into his seat, avoiding the gun.

Jason motioned his head towards the exit for both of you to leave, and he finished speaking to the group before joining you guys.

“That...was...um, eventful,” Dick rubbed his neck awkwardly.

“Did we even get the information we needed? Was that a waste of time?” You questioned the two men.

“Trust me, princess, we got all the information we will need to take those men down.” Jason put his hand on the small of your back as you exited the club, passing the security guard. “We just need to get it back to Bruce.”

Dick nodded, “Alright...I’ll go get the valet to get me the car.”

Jason blinked, “Valet? Dick, there’s no valet here.”

“Yeah there is. I gave him the keys to the Corvette,” Dick assured Jason.

“Trust me, man, I frequent this place for the criminals. There’s no valet.”

“Shit!” Dick shouted exasperatedly, “Bruce is gonna kill me.”

“I didn’t bring a car, I came here on a bus...best not to leave tracks,” Jason scratched his head, “Call an Uber?”

Dick was still agitated at the loss of the hundred-thousand dollar car, but took his phone out and dialed a number, walking to a quieter place to speak.

“So, you didn’t trust us, huh?” You crossed your arms at your boyfriend.

“What? No. I mean, yeah. I trusted you guys; it’s the criminals in there that I don’t trust,” He pointed a thumb towards the club, “I know these assholes too well to let you come here without me.”

You couldn’t argue with him, knowing he meant the best in his own way. “Well, the mustache is a new addition. You grow that overnight?” You chuckled.

Jason brushed his mustache like a villain, “All it takes is some willpower and good genes,” He joked before taking it off, then sticking it on your arm.

“Ugh! Ew!” You peeled it off of your arm and examined it, “How did they fall for this? It looks like a small hamster!”

Jason laughed at your comment before becoming suddenly serious, “Oh...um, by the way,” He leaned closely into your ear, his hot breath making you shiver, “Don’t tell Dick that there actually is a valet here.”

You laughed and slapped his arm before Dick came back, bewildered. “I reported it to the department. Apparently it’s the funniest joke when a cops Corvette gets stolen from right under his nose, as if it doesn’t happen on a daily basis.”

masterlist

[71tenseventeen]

Take My Hand (Take My Whole Life Too)-19

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18

Warnings for sexual content, male pregnancy, non-hockey Sid. Sid and Taylor’s ages have been altered to fit the story.

Perpetual credit to my betas, @queen-alia and @icosahedonist as well as the GC and @ljummen.

Geno keeps his promise. He calls back in less than five minutes and keeps Sid on the phone until he’s dashing through the front door, fifteen minutes later.  “Sid,” he breathes, rushing to where Sid is moving to sit up, sliding an arm around his waist.

“Geno…” Sid starts, eyes welling up again.

“I know, Sid,” he says, guiding them to the door. “Know you scared but going to be okay. I’m promise.” He reaches over and grips Sid’s chin, pausing his steps. “Everything going to be okay. Understand?”

He nods, swallowing thickly, and lets Geno lead him out of the apartment.

He tries to pull away in the hall. “What if someone sees…” he trails off and Geno just sets his jaw, pulling Sid closer.

“Really not care about that right now.”

In the car, Geno reaches over and grips his hand, murmuring quiet reassurances the entire drive to the hospital.

Sid is immediately whisked to a private room where Dr. Agarwal and two nurses are waiting. They waste no time getting him out of his clothes and into a gown while he tries hard not to cry. And he manages right up until he’s on the bed and Dr. Agarwal presses the doppler probe into the gel on his belly. Sid feels like he can’t breathe, holds tight to Geno’s hand while he begs silently to hear their baby’s heartbeat. It feels like time stops and he thinks he’s going to fall to pieces but then there it is. The steady thumpa thumpa thumpa and Sid bursts into tears, burying his face when Geno pulls him close whispering soft words of comfort.

“Baby okay, Sid. Listen, heartbeat strong. Told you everything be okay.” Sid holds tight and is grateful Geno doesn’t let him go.

An hour later Sid’s got an IV, had blood drawn and is receiving IV fluids. Dr. Agarwal is not impressed with him and he hangs his head as she explains what happened. “You’re dehydrated and your blood pressure is way too high. I’m sorry, Sidney, but your current job is not a safe option for you right now. You’re on your feet too much without a break and the stress is too high. I’ll have to see how you respond over the next few days before I make a decision about school.  For now, consider yourself on modified bedrest. That means no work, no school and no overexertion. You can take short walks and swims if Geno is with you but I don’t want you on your feet for prolonged periods of time.”

Sid nods, sadly, still not meeting her eyes and Geno smooths his hair gently. It would be the perfect time for him to chime in with an “I told you so” or even with anger. Sid knows he deserves it and he’s been expecting it but it hasn’t come. Instead Geno has stayed close, stroking his hair, holding his hand through the procedures and rubbing his shoulders soothingly as Dr. Agarwal lays down the law.

Even though he’s been gripping Geno’s arm, hand, hoodie—anything he could get his hand on—for the entire time, he still can’t bring himself to actually look at him when Dr. Agarwal and the nurses finally leave the room.

“Sid,” Geno prods, sounding worried. “It’s going to be okay. You hear the doctor. Baby is alright, still healthy. I’m help take care of you, whatever you need. Make sure you’re not lose apartment if that’s what you want. Know you don’t like it but not going to let anything bad happen to you.”

Sid sucks in a shuddering breath and finally casts his eyes up. “Aren’t you going to say I told you so?”

Geno sighs and eases onto the hospital bed, drawing Sid into his arms. “No. That shitty thing to say and you not deserve that.”

“This is my fault. I do deserve it.”

Geno narrows his eyes, cups Sid’s cheek with his big hand and holds firm. “Don’t want to hear you say that again. Things been so hard on you with pregnancy, know how much you sacrifice already, know how scared you been. Think I not see how hard you try? Think I don’t know why you work so hard?”

“But I—”

“Did what you think you need to do,” Geno interrupts. “Because you’re thinking about life, future for you and baby. Is a lot of responsibility and I’m sorry things not work out the way you hope.”

“I just wanted to try to take care of myself.”

“I know. And you do such a good job, try so hard. Baby just… Maybe need little extra from you right now. So now I’m take care of you. Know you not want that, know is hard for you but not going to let you suffer or go back to work. I’m make sure bills paid for now, pay for rent too, if that what you need.” Geno looks so sincere, guilt hits Sid as hard as if someone punched him.

“Is that what you want?”

“Doesn’t matter what I want. Only matter what—”

“Geno, please,” Sid looks at him pleadingly. “It does matter what you want. Please?”

There’s a moment of hesitation long enough that Sid thinks Geno might not answer but then he says with a soft sigh. “No, I’m not want you stay in old apartment. Want you move in with me so I can be sure you have enough food, air conditioning, heat in winter. Want to go to games and practice and not worry about where you are and if you okay. I’m want to spend time with you, go to doctor, talk about baby, keep getting to know without having to set up meeting plans. But if that not work for you, then we figure it out, understand?”

It’s Sid’s turn to sigh as he nods before looking back up at Geno. “I—If it’s what you really want then I’ll, um, I’ll come stay with you.”  

Part of Sid hates it, hates that he’s getting into a situation where he has to rely on someone else to meet his needs. But a bigger part of him, the part that was terrified tonight and wants desperately to be healthy for his baby is finally ready.

“You sure, Sid? Never want to push you.”

“I’m sure,” Sid nods. “You’re right and you’ve been right. And I don’t…” he trails off and when he speaks again, his voice is so low, it’s almost a whisper. “I was so scared.” He’s blinking back tears again but Geno doesn’t bat an eye, just pulls him close and leans them back on the bed.

Dr. Agarwal monitors Sid closely for the next few hours. He gets two bags of IV fluid and orders some chicken broth and toast when she asks him to eat to be sure he can keep the food down. He tells Geno more than once to go home and each time Geno just frowns at him like he’s lost his mind. It’s late, after ten, when she finally discharges Sid with strict instructions to stay on bedrest for the next several days and three appointments to check in with her.

He’s so relieved that the baby is okay that he doesn’t argue. The only time he starts to complain is when the nurse brings in a wheelchair for him but he barely gets two words out when Dr. Agarwal is giving him a stern look. “Bedrest, Sidney, or I’ll admit you for the next week.” He snaps his mouth shut and climbs dutifully into the chair, letting Geno wheel him out of the room.

It’s not until they’ve made it halfway down the hall that Geno leans forward and whispers, “She little bit scary,” making Sid snort with soft laughter. He twists just enough to smile gratefully at Geno who winks and smiles back. 

Part 20

[kuroandtheguys]

The mad scientist

The city altea, floating in the cosmos was once great, now it laid in ruins. There were rumors of someone living in it still. But that was only rumors. Rumors from the mouths of those who suffer from what had come to be known as Quintessence madness. The location of the city had been lost after so long, but a ship had stumbled upon it. They decided to explore and what they found could be considered a scientific breakthrough or a nightmare. They found holograms of the altean scientist Kuro who had been captured by the galra. When he had returned he wasnt the same.  He’d developed an obsession with quintessence.

The first hologram started with him in his lab. “September 13, 11:56 pm.” he stepped into the frame “I have started this alone and i must finish it alone. There is no longer a choice, i know that i know that i must use myself as the subject of the experiment…..no there is no choice” he sighed. “I must put aside the fears I feel inside….There's no place to hide...So it comes to this. One last final chance for me to take. Now everything I've fought for is at stake. Like a warning light, glimmering in red Like crimson bloodshed, shimmering in red...Beautiful and strange, see the colors change before my eyes See how they dance and they sparkle like diamonds at night Leading out of the darkness and into the light”

“11:58 PM. I have consumed 10 centiliters of formula HJ7. Salty, bitter taste. Stings the tongue. Warm in the gullet. Heat spreading strongly through my veins. A slight feeling of euphoria. Lightheadedness. No noticeable behavioral differences….i must be wise i must try to analyze each change in me…..” suddenly the hologram cut out

The next hologram turned on “...there we are, cant have you shutting off this time…..My God! What's this?Something is happening I can't explain….Something inside me A breathtaking pain

Devours and consumes me And drives me insane!....Suddenly…..Uncontrolled…..Something is Taking hold! Suddenly Agony! Filling me! Killing me?...Suddenly Out of breath! What is this? Is this death?! Suddenly Look at me! Can it be?” his appearance had changed. His hair had turned black and his eyes yellow, his markings were gone. “

“September 14th. 5:00 am. This is a strange, new, sweet sensation. I am younger. lighter, happier in body and soul - twice as alive and tenfold more wicked - which intoxicates and delights me like wine - adding fearful new hardships to my desperate battle for success.” he said happily before turning the hologram off

“September 20th. 10:50 am. The experiments are now in their second week. The transformations are beyond imagining. Unspeakable nightmares besiege my senses. The most racking pains, and a horror of the spirit that exceeds all dreams of death.”

“September 25th. 8:00 pm. I have radically altered the balance of the formula, to contain and overcome the powerful and darker forces at work inside me. I am aware of my peril, and the need to control it’s evil influence, which disappears within me like a stain of breath upon a mirror. it has found the perfect hiding place…” he paused to think “What streak of madness lies inside of me? What is the truth my fears conceal? What evil force makes it of me? What darker side of me does this reveal? Am I the man that I appear to be?

Or am I someone I don't know? Is there some monster drawing near to me? Becoming clear to see? Will what I fear to be be so? What is this strange obsession That's tearing me apart? Some strange deranged expression Of what's in my heart? This is a deadly game I have to win! This is a fight I dare not lose! I have an adversary steeped in sin. Who wages war within In ways I can't begin to use…” he turned the hologram off

There was nothing on record for months after that. The hologram started with kuro having a converstaion with someone, they looked like coran. “This is not the man i knew, there's something deeply troubling you! How long do you plan to hide away here? This increasing isolation only adds to your frustraion!” Kuro responded, turning his back “Coran i dont need you to turn on me as well….more than ever now i need a freind. Cant you see? And dont yuou know? Ive been through hell, dont condem what you dont comprehend.” Coran replied to him “kuro im not questioning your motives here! But, is what you are seeking worth the price? You’ve turned your back on everything you once held dear, your choosing to ignore your freinds advice.” coran reached out for him “you have your work and nothing more, you are possessed, what is your demon? Youve never been this way before, you lost the fire you built your dream on!” coran set his hand on kuro’s shoulder “theres something strange, theres something wrong. i see a change it’s like when love dies. I who have known you for so long, i see the pain in your eyes. There was a time, you lived your life as very few did. You had a plan, you saw your life as very few did. You had it all, the over all. You seemed to know what to live for, now it seems you dont at all…..you have your work nothing more.” Kuro stood silent for a moment “have i become my work and nothing more?i know thats not what im living for….” the hologram ended.

The last hologram listed started. The room was a disaster and kuro was on the floor. He looked tired. “The world has gone insane And parasites are eating at my brain And nothing is the way it was before A pack of wolves is howling at my door I'm living in a non-stop nightmare Deadmen's dreams filled with screaming pain Hurling me to mad extremes In a world that's gone insane The world has lost its head And every evil hour is filled with dread I'm floating on a lake, but upside-down And when I try to breathe I start to drown I cannot speak as nameless ghosts and faceless ghouls Bid me join the dead! No one tells these gruesome fools That the world has lost its head! Fiendish creatures leave their graves to taunt me! Old friends risen from the dead to haunt me! Godforsaken images that daunt me Drowning in an endless flood of blood! The world has lost its mind! And everywhere I turn I fear I'll find Some nightmare even worse than those I see Satanic demons closing in on me How can it be that even though they see my fright Everyone is blind! Night is day And day is night In a world that's lost its mind! The world has gone berserk! And hiding in the murk, new monsters lurk! I see a sea of snakes upon the floor! I see the reaper grinning at my door! I scream in silence! Bad is good and good is bad! Sacred if profane! And it's wiser to be mad...In a world that's gone insane!” His eyes were completely yellow now and the hologram shut off

[heyitslapis]

Ok let's see... its been about 3 weeks since i posted last, give or take a few days. And I'll just say its been an interesting and exhausting few weeks.

Still trying to completely get over my dumbf*ck feelings for Alex. I'm not really doing a super great job at that, and still get random depressive moments that last a varying amount of time, but usually i just push my pity party to the side after about 2 minutes.

On the 3rd of June, Alex went up to see part of her family and join them on a cruise to Columbia. She said wont be back until maybe the 3rd or 4th of July at the earliest. I kinda miss her, but I feel like spending a month physically apart from her will do me some good. Her and i still snap back and fourth to save our streak and to day good morning. Whenever she cant find wifi, she turns on her dad's personal hotspot so she can send me at least one snap to keep our streak rolling (we are the longest streak we have with anyone on our snapchats, and it stands currently at 261 days.) The day after she left the streak sorta died for the day, but she was able to save it cause she was in a different time zone.

Since she's been gone, we've hired several new people at work, many if which being new hosts (thank God tbh, cause this means after theyre all done training and get a couple weeks to get used to everything i can train as a server and hopefully make a little more money). One of them is Giovanni's sister (Gio is a guy that works there. Mostly does dish, sometimes hosts.) And apparently she likes me? About a week before she started they came in to eat with their mom and after they left Gio was like "Dude, i think my sister likes you."

Hey, some random girl actually has a crush on me for the first time in my life? That's cool! Right? It would be, if she weren't 17. If i were still 18 or 19, i wouldnt really care. But now that im 20, even though we only have a 2 year and almost 6 month age difference, i still feel like its weird. I feel like im in a whole new age threshold now that ive hit that 2 decade mark, and she just seems to me like a kid. Anyway, Sammy (thats her) is bi with a preference for girls. She's very forward about asking the girls at work about their sexuality (she'll be mid convo and just be like "wait; you straight?") She makes a hobby of flirting with the straight girls, because as she says it, she can easily flirt with straight girls bc she knows she wont have a chance. As soon as she knows theyre bi or gay, she cant even really talk to them. Sammy flirts with me in excess, has asked me 3 times if im straight, or if im sure that i am (homegirl has only been here like two weeks), and the reason why is because she would happily let me break her heart, and has said thats its too bad im not gay bc if i was she would let me crush her. Also has told me that i remind her of her ex girlfriend, and when i said idk if thats supposed to be a compliment or not, she said "well i really liked her, so..." Oh and btw all 3 times shes asked, I've told her im straight (yknow, bc im not out to the irl general public) and I'll just say that having to lie outloud about my sexuality does not feel that great. Thats not something ive ever had to verbally do before, and now i understand. Tbh i dont really lie, or at least i very rarely do, bc i dont like it, and i want to be seen as trustworthy. i have told my share of lies in my day, but i feel like that was in the top 3 worst lies ive ever told. Simply because i know thats not who i am, yet im saying it anyway.

Besides that, in these last couple weeks ive:

Gotten my computer hacked and almost got scamed out of the piddly $120 dollars total that is in my bank account for me to try to live off of until next Fridays paycheck, and almost got my brother's bank account hacked (looong f*ckin story. Short version, im a gotdang fool, and people are absolute bastards), so now i cant use my computer until i get it looked at, which means no art (sucks bc i wanted to draw myself a bi pride icon)

Put in 103 hours at work in the last 2 weeks

Had our only available car break down twice

Got about half of our kitchen painted. Still need to find time to finish it

Purchased tickets for a convention, and bought almost everything i need to finish my cosplay.

Have a sore in the back of my mouth thats been plaguing me for over a week (finally starting to heal. Its been hurting to do so much as talk, much less eat or drink)

Had to deal with everyone's attitudes at work (some sh*ts going on with the moon and everyones been a pissy ass lately, and im so over it)

The pain in the ass girl at work that we've been trying to get rid of for over a year called in and quit 15 minutes before her literal last shift (Father's day) and our proprietary manager told her "its bullshit that you just found out that your other job scheduled you to work today 15 minutes before you had to come here" and "dont try to come back to this store again". Im ecstatic about it tbqh and feel a small sense of victory about the whole thing.

One of my favorite gays from work had his last shift Saturday night and im still sad about it.

It may not seem like much but its just all around every other day something else small happened to add to the weird and crazy smorgasbord that is my life.

Also bless Sammy bc yesterday was Father's Day, and because of that, i was in the building of my work at 9:45am, started working to get set up at 10, opened around 10:50, and didnt stop until about 8:50pm, 10 minutes before we closed. Our proprietary manager bought us tons of pizza and snacks in the middle of our shift so that we could all take turns having a 10 minute breather, but other than that it was non-stop work and dedication to the customer. At 9:50am my brother went to the Duncan Donuts down the road from us to get the handful of morning people either coffee or bagels or whatever they asked for. I told my brother to get me the english muffin with egg and cheese, and if they had the option, to add sausage to it. Also to tell Sammy i said hi (because she works at that Duncan also, and was there yesterday morning). My brother comes back with breakfast, hands me my food and said that Sammy made it especially for me. (At that time i was also in a bad mood bc i was tired from working four open doubles in a row, and was stressed, so that really lifted my spirits a bit. The food, and the thought that someone made it especially for me.) And i'll just say she just earned my love for the next week at least.

Anyway i think thats all for now loves. I dont have a very eventful life, but i sure do have a busy one.

[buzzdixonwriter]

Spoilericious Notes On THE LAST JEDI

That’s good… Luke Skywalker, Kylo Ren, and Yoda (hey, I said this would be spoilericious!) are all in agreement that humanity (because humanity represents about 90% of the Star Wars universe; there’s a whole side issue on human privilege that could be explored but we won’t) has grossly misunderstood what The Force is all about, attributing moral / ethical values it lacks (The Force simply…is), and as such creating a huge mess with the whole Jedi / Sith dichotomy and so should be (literally) burned to the ground and something new built from the ashes.

That’s bad… Based on the amount of training Rey goes through to get to avalanche lifting levels of Force mastery, Rocky Balboa would be an omnipotent god if he could just get into the Star Wars universe.  Y’know how in Hong Kong action films and Japanese anime the characters say, “We need special training,” and they spend thirty seconds to a minute in a montage and come out ready to kick Bruce Lee’s ass?  Not as much training as that.

That’s good… For the first time the Star Wars universe acknowledges the dreadful compromise and complexity of any large scale society, in particular how the wealth of the Star Wars universe is generated through arms sales and as such there is absolutely no reason for anyone to stop fighting.

That’s bad… In his climactic showdown with Kylo Ren, Luke Skywalker (dammit, read the title of this post; I said there would be spoilers) promises him and the fans that ”the war is just beginning”.  Question: Are Disney and the filmmakers even aware that they are criticizing their own business model?  I mean, in a certain sense they’re trapped; by the very name Star WARS they are compelled to tell stories about a grandiose interstellar conflict, unlike Star Trek which is just about a long trip that visits distant planets (or at least used to be…).  But this means that despite the title of Episode IV, there is no hope! and the Star Wars universe is condemned to an eternity of horrific conflict and violent death.

That’s good… Everybody has agreed to forget all about that silly midi-chlorian nonsense.

That’s bad… After presenting a consistently godless universe in ten theatrical features, two TV movies, six TV series, and lord knows how many books / comics / games, the concept of God has been dropped into Star Wars (hell as a concept was introduced back in Empire Strikes Back).  I’m absolutely not saying that God has no place in popular entertainment, just that the universe of Star Wars -- both in concept and execution -- consistently portrayed a culture where the very idea of God had never been introduced (but this may be attributable to bad scripting; see below…).

That’s good… Snoke’s throne room is like something out of a 1950s MGM musical, and I mean that in a good sense:  It looks genuinely futuristic and other worldly.  There are some small edits and cutaway shots in the film that look like nothing else in the Star Wars universe (and not big special effects scenes but rather subtle little moments).  Now and then there are specific call outs to earlier films, in particular Luke Skywalker dying (Fnck you!  I told you there would be spoilers!) under twin suns echoing the moment in the original Star Wars when he stared off into the twin sunset of Tatooine and realized destiny was calling him elsewhere.  And the salt-encrusted mineral world of Crait is the closest thing to a genuinely alien world that we’ve ever seen in Star Wars.

That’s bad… As my son-in-law Bobby Dragulescu observed, the Star Wars universe is only visually consistent:  In no shape / fashion / form does it portray a uniform worldview (or rather, galactic-view) of a society that could actually function.  The political systems are a hot mess, and for all the endless talk about trade alliances in the prequels, there’s virtually no signs of actual large scale interstellar trade or commerce (with the possible exception of the bio-factory on Kamino cranking out endless copies of Temuera Morrison in Attack Of The Clones).  Mind you, virtually all space operas suffer from this flaw (Star Trek The Original Series hid it better than most by taking place so waaay far out there that commerce had not yet completely caught up with the Enterprise).  Star Wars looks pretty but makes no damn sense, and this problem only gets worse with each additional installment, building towers of cards on foundations of sand.

That’s good… Poe’s brief exchange with General Hux was Monty Python / Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy level hilarity, shockingly unexpected in a funny (not offensive) manner, and an absolute delight harkening back to the cheekiest lines in the original Star Wars and The Empire Strikes Back.

That’s bad… The rest of the film has the worst dialog heard in a Star Wars movie written by anybody other than George Lucas.

That’s good… More (human) diversity in the roles, with females and non-whites / non-Europeans filling in a lot of supporting roles.

That’s bad… As much as I hate agreeing on anything with the fragile alt-right critics who decry said diversity, to this specifically limited degree they have a point:  The appearance of such characters was often shot / staged / edited in a way that instead of appearing naturalistic called undo attention to the casting.  “Hey, look!  We’ve got an Asian female doing stuff!”

That’s good… Gimme a moment…

That’s bad… I almost typed “There isn’t a single good performance in this film” but realized that isn’t true; there are several good performances but the bad ones are so bad they suck all memory of the good into a black hole of mediocrity.  Daisy Ridley as Rey does a good job, Domhnall Gleeson as General Hux and Benicio del Toro as DJ both chew scenery with great gusto, Kelly Marie Tran as Rose Tico struggles mightily to make a silk purse out of her sow’s ear and ends up with a nice imitation leather wallet, Andy Serkis draws ahead of Doug Jones as the best-actor-you-never-actually-see-onscreen race, but much to my delight Adam Driver as Kylo Ren goes so far over the emo top that I am capable of forgiving the film of all its grievous flaws.  That being said, The Last Jedi does Carrie Fisher no favors in her final portrayal of Leia Organa (flying through space like a Marvel superhero doesn’t help, either), Laura Dern is woefully miscast and seems to think she’s just doing a table read, and although serviceable as Luke Skywalker, Mark Hamil proves himself to be the least compelling performer to play a Jedi or Sith.  (He does shine as the voice of Dobbu Scay, a trollish alien who insists on shoving coins up BB-8’s nether regions.)

That’s good… ...lemme think…

That’s bad… When it’s good (see themes up above) the script is very good, but when it’s bad (50%+ of the remaining film) it sucks wet farts out of dead porgs.  Finn, Rose, and DJ have an incredibly convoluted / overly complicated hour long sub-plot that contributes absolutely nothing to the story’s final resolution.  They visit a gambling casino world that looks like a crappy swipe from a James Bond movie (tho the Gerry Anderson Supermarionation-looking alien was a nice touch), feature an alien critter race that’s a lift from Syd Mead, and chat incessantly via com-links while traveling through hyperspace despite the fact that tracking ships through hyperspace is repeatedly presented as a radical leap in technology!  And while it’s revealed the First Order has planted a homing device on Leia’s ship (something Darth Vader did in the original Star Wars with the Millennium Falcon) and has an agent on board, nothing is ever done with these ideas.

That’s good… Oh!  Snoke tells Kylo Ren to “get rid of that silly mask”.  That’s nice.

That’s bad… The Last Jedi drops the ball on several plot points in addition to the hyperspace tracking mentioned above.  Luke promises to teach Rey three lessons about the force, but only gets through two and the third one is never alluded to again.  They make a big deal about Rey’s parents being despicable drug addicts who sold her as an infant, completely lacking in Force pedigree which means (a) they are belaboring a non-crucial story point or (b) -- and we’ll give ‘em a benefit of a doubt here -- they’re planting a red herring in order to set up a big reveal for the next movie.  Snoke is demonstrated to be omniscient and capable of planning so far ahead and in so much detail that he can create a fake future in Kylo Ren’s mind for Rey to read, but conveniently leaves a live / fully charged light saber on the arm of his throne to get sliced in half by (and if he’s such a hot snot re Force abilities, why would getting whacked in half ala Darth Maul even slow him down?). 

That’s good… ...I got nuthin’…

That’s bad… Using a starship as a kamikaze by revving up to hyperjump speed and ramming it into the baddies’ ship is a cool idea but makes one wonder why didn’t anybody use it before in the Star Wars universe (c’mon, space torpedoes) and why did they wait to the very last minute to do so -- losing most of the supporting cast in the process -- instead of turning one of the other, smaller ships against Snoke’s flagship?  And nobody in the Star Wars universe has figured out that putting a sharp hairpin turn and/or baffles in an exhaust vent will keep people from dropping bombs / flying spaceships through it.

That’s good… Hey, no Death Star.  Finally.

 © Buzz Dixon