#and now that I’m back the email function is refusing to work
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wallflowerglitter · 4 months ago
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Photo of a screenshot of Taylor’s old blog
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vallification · 4 months ago
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armin arlert headcanons!!!
notes: au/noncanon oriented, some apply to canon too, maybe a few mature themes!!!
let me know your thoughts!!!
armin’s eyes are bright and clear uranian blue (#afdbf5)
obviously armin is scary smart, but even when he doesn’t know something he can guess with about 95% accuracy.
nerdmin is real.
his “nerd thing” is fantasy stuff. skyrim, renaissance faires, dnd, etc.
armin is the pc gamer god, so much so that eren and jean both plainly refuse to play against him. if they’re not on armin’s side they won’t play.
armin, sasha, jean, and connie have a stardew co-op farm. he’s achieved perfection on his own in five different loads
he played soccer from middle school to college. the privilege of playing college ball was a crazy surprise because he was weaker and smaller than everyone on the team— however, he was definitely quicker.
armin does calisthenics now because he greatly appreciates the control it gives him over his body. since he doesn’t workout for muscle growth you wouldn’t be able to tell from appearances, but he is incredibly strong
the movie perfectly captured my hc for his aesthetic, maybe a bit more mature looking than that but it’s otherwise perfect
armin wears a cheap casio digital watch
armin really hates that he’s seen as cute and sweet and not hot by most people. he feels this especially when he’s at a party or event with eren and jean.
black chuck taylors are his every day shoe, they’re very worn but still very clean
armin needs his glasses to function optimally, but he’s not helpless without them.
armin loves biology and all of its subjects, but marine biology and the ocean have his heart
despite his low self esteem and saint-like patience, he refuses to let people treat him like a doormat.
armin is everyone’s friend, but naturally eren and mikasa are his best friends. jean is close though!
he likes to do his own thing in social situations, but after a few drinks he’s a social butterfly
armin wears a silver ring on his left middle finger and a silver charm style bracelet with his watch.
he drives a dark blue 1991 mazda rx7. it belonged to his father once, and he fixed it up to mechanical and aesthetic perfection with eren and connie’s help.
i’m really not sorry, he’s also bisexual.
armin is a huge eavesdropper
he has ONE very small tattoo of a star on the back of his arm, just above his elbow, courtesy of jean via connie’s amazon tattoo gun
he hates when people wallow in self pity, so he’s rather ashamed of his insecurity and low self esteem.
armin has lots of little moles, they’re everywhere. face-wise, he has one on his left cheek and to the left of his mouth!
armin is a super dry texter, texting him is literally like exchanging work emails. he does enjoy imessage games though
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leshitshow · 2 years ago
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176.a - I hate my job and here's why
I really want out of my job. My bosses are abusive boomer trash. For one, they’re both self-hating. One is a self hating woman as well as a self hating Mexican. The other is a self hating black man. It’s fucking willy wonka bat shittery. Then there’s the issue of I haven’t been given a raise in five fucking years. I got overlooked for two promotions earlier this year. I am disliked by both the VP and the Superintendent because they’re lazy fucking children who spend more time complaining loudly about doing their six figure jobs than actually doing them. And they don’t like getting called out for that - which I do when their lack of doing fucks with my work. Which is more often than I’d like.
My job is = I run software that an entire 800 sqft city based facility depends on. My recent beef is my piece of shit boomer Superintendent boss absolutely refuses to give me administrator rights to the full facility ware AND he doesn’t understand how it works at all. The lack of access and this fundamental lack of understanding has created a recent world of shitty problems for me and our department in that the software is now completely and totally offline - and has been as of writing this for six fucking weeks. I can’t get into it to check maintenances. My trades who do the maintenances can’t get into it to record their work and get their assignments. The city says we are contractually obligated to have this software up and functioning and it’s down. This isn’t the first major fuckup on this system due to my boss, btw. This is just the latest of a line of major fuckups.
Speaking of my scumbag six figure making MAGA loving boomer boss - we are offline and no where close to being up and running because he didn’t understand the software’s vendor split into two entities. I’m not even sure when they did that since I don’t get those emails. He does and doesn’t share that information. But he didn’t know at all - which is infuriating because the software vendor most definitely told him. He also didn’t understand that the software we are running is 8+ years past upgrade. It’s so old that the original vendor’s contract split up sending the “classic” version of the software to a totally different support team. A totally different team than what he just spent $26,000 of the Los Angeles taxpayer’s money on. I tried to explain the vendor split to him when I figured it out back in July this year but he just gaslit me, “Oh yea I talked to them.” Fucking control freak sack of shit.
So what’s transpired here is the dinosaur software my boss refuses to upgrade, despite paying to upgrade two-fucking years ago, is now being outsourced. AND if he wants to continue running the old software in our facility then he needs to pay for the new outsourced vendor to run the classic system. The only problem with this is he’s too proud to admit he is a fuck up. (See boomer things.) He doesn’t want to admit he wasted $26,000 of taxpayer money on the new version of the software that he has spent two-years refusing to implement, for whatever reason. And, btw, I told him back in 2020 that then was the time to upgrade the system and train our teams on it because everything was slow af then. I guess he heard me because he bought the upgrade around then but was probably offended I had the idea and not him? Or he’s just afraid of software in general. I honestly can’t figure out why he would buy the new version, pay for a full migration, pay for departmental training, and just sit on it. He didn’t tell anyone he bought it, too! I only know about it because my friend in the financial dept. showed me the POs.
So the software our facility is dependent on is down. Has been for six weeks due to my boss being afraid of new software and ignoring contractual agreements. Also due to the fact that his boss, the VP of Operations, has her head so far up his ass that I’m not sure if her hair is naturally brown or it’s just shit colored. I have sidelined her and told her the issue briefly but because I am not her equal she honestly can’t be bothered to hear that I have words coming out of my mouth. She would prefer to pretend I’m a potted plant in the office lobby rather than an equal human being. Essentially she just covers up the Superintendent’s fuckups and often knowingly stands by while he lays blame on other teams. As a recent example, the city requires a quarterly report on our software usage. I told my bosses to ask for an extension since the ware is down. They both ignored me and falsified a full ass quarterly report and sent that in, instead. Yea. Corrupt.
Ultimately, this has been a $26,000 fuck up and instead of owning up to the fuck up and telling my company’s CFO that he fucked up - we are now without the software while my boss lies to my equally as shady VP of Operations, the city, and the rest of the staff that “the software’s down because the company fucked the migration up.” A fucking hilarious lie when thinking about how he had me write up and implement a new training session for the new hires on the old software two-days before it completely went down. Especially hilarious because when they asked me to do the training I said, “Why? We’re about to lose the old version any day now.” And they just shrugged, blinked blankly, and walked away.
I am honestly debating telling the CFO everything, thereby nuking my position there fully. I hate my bosses that much.
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heyitssmiller · 4 years ago
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Clandestine: Chapter Fourteen
We’re here. The final chapter. Y’all. I’m gonna cry.
@lumosinlove thanks for these characters!!
@donttouchmycarrots thanks for being my partner in crime during this whole mess of a story <3
And thank you, lovely readers!! For sticking with me for this crazy rollercoaster of a story, for encouraging me when I felt like quitting, and for always being so, so wonderful. I appreciate y’all more than I can say.
CW: prison, food, anxiety
Clandestine Masterlist
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The drive back was silent, punctuated sharply by the two empty seats in the van. It was something they should’ve seen coming, but yet were completely blindsided by. Sirius had been on their side for so long now, it seemed odd to picture him anywhere else. It was like he’d been there for years already, fitting in seamlessly and making friends fast, filling a gap that hadn’t been obvious before but felt like a chasm now. He belonged in Gryffindor with them. And Regulus, while more reserved and distant than his brother, didn’t seem to deserve the fate he’d found. The main motive that kickstarted this whole mission had been him – all for him – and he still couldn’t avoid being dragged down with the Snakes.
Remus was on the phone with a contact from the FBI – he had been since they’d taken Sirius away – trying his hardest to find any loopholes he could. He was… actually strangely calm. Methodically tackling one idea after the next, his analytic brain working overtime. Logan could understand, though. Being productive was helpful. It was when things settled down and got quiet, when all you could do was sit there and wait…
That was when things got tough.
His leg bounced up and down in anticipation the closer they got to the cabin, his one-track mind stuck on one thing and one thing only – getting a blond safe-cracker into his arms again. Not having Leo with them had been like missing a limb, making everything feel out of balance. And even thought he was safe, he was still too far away. Logan couldn’t stand it.
Finn reached over and placed a hand on Logan’s with a knowing smile. He was ready to be home, too.
Gravel crunching under their tires only fueled the eagerness. There were lights still on in the cabin, a warm, inviting pull. The front door was open before the cars had pulled to a complete stop, revealing Leo and Hope and Lyall. Julian was presumably asleep, given the hour. Logan’s seatbelt was thrown off and the door closest to him was yanked open, Finn hot on his heels.
Leo bounded down the steps of the porch and flung himself at the two of them, finding every inch of space between them and filling it, a soft sound escaping from his lips as he held on tight in a one-armed grip. Logan and Finn both stumbled back a few steps at the impact but quickly returned the embrace, Logan’s face buried in the junction between neck and shoulder and Finn’s forehead pressed against the blond’s. They seemed to take their next breaths in tandem, slow and steady, as they leaned into each other. Time slowed, everything in the periphery faded, and the world, previously off-kilter, evened out in equilibrium.
Finn suddenly realized he felt the coarse, scratchy texture of Leo’s sling pressed up against him and pulled back a little. “Careful, baby.”
That made Leo pull back. “Why?” He glanced over them nervously. “Are you hurt?”
Logan sighed long-sufferingly and cupped Leo’s face in his hands, looking him in the eyes with a fond expression that belied his exasperation. “No, but you are,” he moved his hands to smush Leo’s cheeks, causing Finn to laugh, “so take it easy.”
Leo smiled – a real one this time, not one of the fake ones he’d given them before they left – and relaxed. After a quick kiss from Logan he asked, “So it went well? Mission’s done?”
Logan and Finn both froze at that. Finn looked over to Remus, who was still on the phone (like he had been for the past hour at least) and frowned.
“Not quite.”
“We can talk inside,” Leo said, looking worried again. “there’s lots of food for y’all.”
He wasn’t wrong. Food covered pretty much every open surface of the countertops, ranging from pancakes to grilled cheese to the cinnamon swirl muffins Leo brought to their first briefing all those months ago. Finn smiled at the memories and instantly snagged one on their way to the kitchen table. His eyes landed on Talker, who was explaining something to Hope as she took a look at his leg. Nat, Kasey, and Alex were piled onto one couch, looking tired and each with a grilled cheese sandwich in hand. He could see Remus on the porch every once in a while when he passed by a window as he paced, phone pressed to his ear.
It didn’t bode well.
Logan sat down with a plate of pancakes drenched in syrup and started telling the story, voice a quiet murmur and only interrupted when he shoveled food into his mouth. Finn wondered how none of them had really seen this coming. In hindsight, it made sense that there would need to be a trial – after all, Sirius and his brother weren’t innocent. Finn wasn’t sure what happened next, though. Criminal trials and sentencing weren’t part of the job for them. He hoped they could get the brothers out of this mess, though. If anyone could find a way to do it, it would be Remus.
At least the Snakes were done for. The information on the flash drives was enough to lock them away for a very, very long time.
He took a bite of his muffin, no longer really hungry, and listened to Logan talk.
***
Remus sat down on the porch swing, tired and stressed and not at all ready to quit. He listened to Alice, his only contact in the FBI, rattle off some statistics that he couldn’t even begin to understand. And he wasn’t trying to be rude – that really wasn’t his intent – but he needed to act quickly about this. So he grimaced and cut her off. “Can we get them placed in another prison? Or even in solitary until we can figure something out? If the Snakes can get to them…”
Well. Remus didn’t think they’d show much mercy to the two people mainly responsible for putting them in jail.
Alice sighed, the sound of her rummaging around in her desk filtering through the phone. “We can try. Since they did help you guys, we should be able to swing it. If something jeopardizes their lives, it shouldn’t be too difficult.”
Remus’ heart twisted – a deep, chronic ache under his ribcage that refused to let up. “Do it fast. I’m going to start reaching out to lawyers.”
“Lupin, it’s four in the morning.”
“I know.” He ran a hand through his hair with a frustrated huff. “Thanks for all the help, Alice.”
He hung up, then braced his forearms on his knees, hands gripping his hair, and breathed.
If there was one thing Remus Lupin was good at, it was planning. It was his job, and a big part of the reason he’d switched from field work in the first place. He relied on structure to get through his days, needed the stability in order to function.
There was none of that.
This was being adrift at sea, constantly assaulted by the waves and the current without rescue in sight.
And Remus had no idea what to do.
His phone pinged, catching his attention. A text from Alice flashed across the screen.
I’ve got a friend who’s a lawyer, and she’s a damn good one. I know you’ll want to do your research on her yourself, but I can vouch for her too. Here’s her contact if you want to reach out.
The contact number and email were listed under the name Dorcas Meadowes.
***
Dorcas Meadowes was, to put it simply, awe-inspiring.
Black curls, a dark complexion, and a serious, no-funny-business expression on her face. Her office was neat and organized, a few pictures around the place of her and a blonde girl with a wide grin and freckles. There was a small pride flag on her desk. Without a word, she motioned for Remus to sit, cool and composed and ready to get to work.
That was all it took for Remus to instantly respect her.
“So I’ve heard some of the story from Alice, but I’ll need you to start at the very beginning. Don’t leave out any details, tell me everything.”
Remus did, settling into the chair and getting comfy. It was a long story, after all. When he was done he looked back up at Dorcas, whose face was expressionless except for a single, raised eyebrow.
“That’s…” she trailed off with a low whistle.
“Yeah.”
“Well, the good news is that, if we’ve got enough evidence to back your story up, we can reduce his sentence by a lot, maybe even get him released.”
Remus sagged back into the chair, relief taking over and wiping out the tension radiating through his muscles. “Great.”
He’d known, logically, that they’d be able to reduce his sentence. With all the work he put into taking the Snakes down, there was no way they’d give him a full sentence. But getting him out of there for good…
Remus had never wanted anything so much in his life.
Dorcas leaned forward, powering her laptop on. “We’ll go visit him in the next few days and tell him what’s going on, but first we need a plan. Here’s what I’m thinking…”
***
Sirius hated this.
He was bored, he was tired, and – more than anything – he was lonely.
In Gryffindor, he’d become so accustomed to always having at least someone with him at all times. It was usually Remus, but he’d also grown close to most of the team. And it was nice at the time – god, did he miss it. But it was painful now. He’d witnessed what his life could be like, happy and surrounded by friends and possibly in love, and now he was back to the way his life used to be. Alone and on the wrong side of the law.
He hadn’t seen Reg since they’d been escorted into isolation for their own safety. Which don’t get him wrong – he was grateful for it. Knowing Riddle, they wouldn’t have survived the night if they were all being held together. But it was too quiet now.
The door to his cell rattled and Sirius looked up sharply. A guard was standing there, unlocking his door and opening it.
“Come with me,” the guard said, sounding bored as he opened the door further and held out a pair of handcuffs. Sirius looked at him hesitantly, not moving an inch. The guard rolled his eyes. “You have visitors.”
Sirius perked up at that, the only thought running through his head being Remus. He knew him well enough to know that he wasn’t going to take this sitting down. He’d be fighting to get Sirius free, no doubt about it. He wasn’t sure who else would be visiting him, anyways – if someone was here, it was sure to be Remus.
So Sirius got up and held his wrists out to be cuffed, then watched as the officer pointed down the hall.
“This way.”
It took all the self-control Sirius had to not run, to slowly put one foot in front of the other until he finally reached his destination. The guard moved around him to open the door and then Sirius was moving again.
He spotted caramel curls as soon as the door opened to the visitation room and felt his shoulders sag with relief. “Remus.”
Worried brown eyes followed him as he crossed the room quickly to sit in front of him, separated by a thick wall of glass. The movies weren’t lying, apparently. But it was so good to see him that Sirius didn’t care.
Remus looked tired. Unfortunately, that didn’t surprise Sirius at all. He knew the tendency to overwork all too well at this point. More than anything, it made Sirius want to get out of there, to wrap him up in his arms and let him take a nap there, to make sure he was taking care of himself. He settled for giving him a stern look instead.
“You need to get some sleep.”
Sirius expected a sharp, witty retort. Some sass, a comeback of some kind. Instead, Remus did the unthinkable and just smiled. “I missed you.”
Sirius sighed, softening at the gentle admission. He’d missed Remus too, of course. More than he could really put into words, and it had barely been a day. The smell of his shampoo, the quiet, reassuring presence of him by Sirius’ side, those eyes that just seemed to see right through him and know even the things Sirius tried to keep hidden. He found he didn’t mind it too much - not when it was Remus.
“I missed you,” he echoed in agreement, refusing to look away until someone cleared their throat loudly. Sirius looked over to a woman sitting next to Remus, looking unimpressed. Sirius hadn’t even known she was there, as wrapped up in Remus as he was.
Remus, to Sirius’ endless delight, blushed. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Remus blush before. It was cuter than it had any right to be. “Um, Sirius this is Dorcas. She’ll be representing you in court.”
Right.
He had to go on trial.
Dorcas took over from there. “We think, with the evidence we have, that we can get the charges reduced, maybe dropped if we’re lucky. If you can think of any evidence we don’t know about, we can use that to strengthen your case, too.”
Sirius nodded, relieved. That sounded better than he thought he’d get, to be honest. “What about Reg?” he asked, looking between the two.
Dorcas was very hard to read, Sirius realized. And Remus looked confident… until he looked over at the lawyer. Then his expression flickered.
And Sirius’ heart sank.
“That’s a bit trickier,” Dorcas stated slowly, treading carefully. “The thing is, he never tried to get out. He stayed with the Snakes. And I know it’s not easy to get out of situations like that,” she rushed to continue when she saw the look on Sirius’ face, “but the fact still stands. And he didn’t do as much to help take the Snakes down, not like you did. We can probably reduce his sentence, but he’ll be in prison longer than you. I don’t think we can fix that.”
Sirius felt himself being torn in two different directions. He wanted to be free, to be able to live his life again. Maybe make a home in Gryffindor (or maybe move in permanently with a certain spy), get a job as a consultant. He’d make sure the poor houseplant in Remus’ apartment survived, the poor thing, and he’d keep Remus’ favorite tea stocked in the cupboard. He’d be able to relax for – well, the first time in a very long time.
But his brother.
He was the main reason Sirius got out in the first place. The reason he ended up in Gryffindor, this entire mission was for him. To get him out, to make sure he was safe.
What was the point, if he was stuck in jail while Sirius got to walk free?
He could practically hear his brother telling him how stupid he was being in that dry voice of his, but he pushed the thought away. He’d made up his mind, and it was practically impossible to sway him when that happened.
Sweet, caramel eyes might test him, though.
Sirius looked up at Remus guiltily, dreading the response he was going to get. But yet again, Remus took him by surprise and smiled sadly.
“I understand.”
Those words hit Sirius like a freight train. He sucked in a deep breath, eyes stinging and throat getting tight. “I’m sorry.”
Remus just shook his head. “Don’t be.”
Sirius loved him.
Remus glanced over at a confused Dorcas. “He can’t leave his brother. Whatever sentence Reg gets, Sirius wants to do the same.”
She was silent for a long time, looking back and forth between the two of them. Then she sighed, seeming resolute. “Well then we’d better get those charges as low as we can.”
***
Four Weeks Later
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Leo found Remus in the courthouse hallway during the trial recess before they were supposed to reconvene for the sentencing, looking seconds away from pacing from one side of the building to the other. The past few weeks had been hard on all of them. Between coming to terms with everything that had happened in the recent months, to trying to figure out the evidence they needed to bring forward to try and get the charges dropped against both Sirius and Regulus, to the strange feeling in the Agency brought forth by Sirius’ absence, it had been weird for all of them. Remus had been hit the hardest by all of it, though – and understandably so. That didn’t make it any easier to watch, though.
He’d been running himself to the bone the past four weeks, going above and beyond to make sure everything was in order for the trial. He looked ready to drop, if Leo was being honest.
But he understood. If it were Logan or Finn in Sirius’ place… well. He’d already figured out just how far he’d go for them.
He put a hand on Remus’ arm, trying to be as calming as possible. “You’re going to be ok,” he said carefully, choosing his words meticulously. He didn’t want to be cold, but he didn’t want to get Remus’ hopes up only for them to be dashed.
Carmel eyes met his own, and Leo sighed at the stress he saw there. He looked tired – so tired.
“What do you need?” Leo asked quietly, hoping for some sort of guidance on how to help him, how to get that look off of his face.
Remus just laughed under his breath, a sad sound. “There’s a lot of things I need.” He shuffled on his feet, gathering his sleeves in his hands. “But a hug would be a good start.”
Not hesitating, Leo gathered him into a hug, the stretch pulling at the scar tissue in his shoulder that was finally free of a sling. Remus was tense and still for a while, then relaxed into it. Leo wished he could do more, wished he could make any sort of difference in this situation. But everything was so far out of their control now; the only thing left to do was wait.
“Whatever happens, we’re here for both of you. You’re not alone in this.”
Remus stepped away with a fake attempt at a smile. “Yeah.”
There was a visual cue that neither of them seemed to catch and people started filtering back into the courtroom, making Remus’ face grow paler and more pinched. Leo stuck by his side as they walked back inside, trying to ignore the soft sound Remus made when he saw Sirius again – all the way in the front, in a jumpsuit that looked too big for him, hair longer and eyes a little duller than they remembered, fidgeting with something in his cuffed hands. Regulus was next to him, head down and avoiding everyone’s eyes. Leo just stuck to Remus’ side as they squeezed into the row of chairs with the rest of the Agency, making sure Remus was right in the middle, surrounded by so many of the people who cared about him most. Finn and Logan sat down next to him with grim smiles.
Leo reached over to tangle his fingers with Finn’s, feeling him squeeze back gently. The bruises were completely gone from his face, and he was walking limp-free now. He dropped his head onto Logan’s shoulder, having to angle his shoulders down to rest somewhat comfortably against the shorter man.
Leo would never get over the height difference.
“I’m taking a nap when we get home. This is so stressful, oh my god.” Finn sighed, making Leo smile.
Home.
That was still somewhat new for the three of them. After a few days back in their separate apartments in Gryffindor, they’d realized how incredibly codependent they’d become during their mission. Leo would find himself staring up at the ceiling most nights, worrying about the other two, until he’d get a phone call from one of them and they’d end up driving to each other and collapsing in bed together, squished together just like those hotel rooms they’d shared. And it had gotten to the point where there wasn’t any point living in different apartments when they ended up together most nights anyways, so Leo and Logan had packed up their things and moved in with Finn. He had the largest bed, anyways.
So yeah. They lived together now. And Leo was ridiculously pleased about it.
They were taking that vacation in a few weeks, too – the one Finn had first brought up in the back of a getaway car, tears in his eyes and blood on his hands. Somewhere warm, just like he’d promised. He’d get to watch Logan tan and Finn turn red like a lobster, only to go straight back to pale. They’d get some time to relax and not stress about work – just themselves and the vast expanse of beach and water in front of them.
Leo couldn’t wait.
“We’ll take that nap together.” Logan answered Finn quietly, turning his head to meet Leo’s eyes as he pressed an affectionate kiss to Finn’s head. Leo smiled at him, the sense of one chapter ending and the next beginning washing over him.
Whatever came their way, they’d be ok. They’d proven that already.
The crowd hushed as the judge sat back down, face impassive.
“We have reviewed the evidence and testaments brought forward in defense of Sirius and Regulus Black.” He started, looking down at the two in question critically as everyone in the courtroom seemed to hold their breath.
“It still doesn’t change the fact that they committed crimes while with the organization,” the judge stated firmly, then continued, “Regulus and Sirius Black are hereby sentenced to one year in prison.”
The gavel slammed.
Remus sat there in quiet disbelief.
They’d done… everything. They’d worked so hard for the past month in attempts to let Sirius and Regulus’ sentences reduced – and that was technically a reduced sentence – but it was still more than any of them had been expecting.
A year.
They hadn’t done enough.
Remus almost missed all the movement around him, too busy staring at the back of the seat directly in his line of vision, but his gaze snapped up when an achingly familiar voice called his name.
Sirius slowed to a stop as he passed Remus on his way out, eyes wide and frantic. Desperate. It broke Remus’ heart, more than it already was. “Wait for me?” He asked intently, like his sole focus was on Remus and his answer. He shoved his open palms out, revealing what he’d been fidgeting with during the entire trial. Remus looked down to find an origami flower, conveying all of Sirius’ hopes for the future within the delicate folds.
Remus wished more than anything that he could reach for him; to pull him in tight, hold him close, and refuse to let the guards take him away. He also had the half-formed plans of a jail break already in mind, even though he knew Sirius would never agree to it. It was then that his eyes locked with the gray ones he’d come to know better than his own and he knew – he knew that he’d wait, however long it took.
Remus loved him.
It wasn’t a grand revelation, it wasn’t sudden. In all honesty Remus had probably felt that way for a long time now, the truth prodding at the back of his head, nagging at his subconscious. He loved Sirius, plain and simple. Simple except for the fact that one of them was going to jail for a year. And yet, no matter how complicated it got, no matter how much time went by, it was the easiest decision Remus had ever made.
Well. If love made people crazy, Remus was certifiably insane.
He smiled a little tearfully at Sirius and nodded fiercely, picking up the paper flower delicately.
 “You know I will.”
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definitelynotkatesblog · 4 years ago
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Home Sweet Home
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Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/ GN! Reader
Category: Angst/Fluff
Summary: Hotch returns unexpectedly from being away and causes a tough time for Reader.
A/N: I got to write this little piece for our Discord server’s fic swap! I was lucky enough to have @ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff as my person!
This fic is gender neutral and written in second person POV for an easier self-insert experience!
Content warnings: Cursing, bit of angst, hurt/comfort, a lil kiss at the end
W.C: 3.5k
———————————
The moment he stepped in the room, the air escaped your lungs and everything froze.
“Seven months ago I made a decision…”
The rest of his words refused to register in your mind. All you could focus on was him.
He was back home, safe. His eyes were tired, his hair a bit longer than he normally kept it, and he’d grown a beard. He’d never been one for facial hair. He had a subscription service that delivered sustainable razors and blades to his home like clockwork so he never ran out and never ran the risk of coming to work with stubble. He hated looking ‘unkempt’. Who was the man standing in the room, still speaking? How long had it been since he’d shaved?
You felt the tears sting your eyes, blurring your vision.
Months had passed. He hadn’t called. He hadn’t shaved. He hadn’t emailed, or Skyped. Or shaved. He hadn’t shaved. And he hadn’t called.
The dramatic gasp from your beloved technical analyst stole the air from the room and pulled you from your thoughts.
“Oh! Sir! You’re back! With a beard? Welcome back!”
You blinked a few times to clear the tears in your eyes, trying to make sense of what was happening.
Your eyes flicked from Hotch, to the team, and back to Hotch before everything got blurry again. The next thing you saw was the ceiling before your eyes slid shut. At least in this darkness, nothing hurt.
“Make some room! Back up!” Hotch’s voice came through the fuzzy edges of your mind. The familiar feeling of Hotch’s warm, calloused hands on the side of your face. “Can you hear me? Are you alright?”
You shook your head ‘no’, willing the situation to be different when your eyes opened than when they’d shut.
“Clear the room,” he ordered. The sound of footsteps retreating filled, then emptied the room.
Slowly, your eyes dared open, taking in the sight of a very concerned and bearded Hotch hovering over you.
“Are you okay?” he asked again, his voice slightly less urgent this time.
You nodded and tried to sit up, pushing his hands off of when they tried to help you to your feet.
He stood with you slowly, his eyes never leaving your face. When you were finally upright, you crossed your arms and stared him down. His face softened as his gaze fell to his feet, unable to meet your eyes. “I’m sorry-” he started softly.
“Yeah,” you scoffed, “Nice beard.” If he tried saying anything else, it was to the empty room as you stormed out.
--
Glances from your peripheral confirmed what you already knew from the pounding in your chest. Pacing his office like a caged lion, Hotch was stealing looks from between the blinds covering his office windows. The last daring glance had your eyes locked, the intensity burning through the glass and across the bullpen area. You tore your head away and willed your eyes to focus on the file in front of you that had been untouched for the past few hours.
You took a deep breath and decided a cup of coffee might help matters. Without daring a look in his direction, you stormed over to the small kitchenette and pulled a mug from the crowded cupboard. As you turned to face the counter, perhaps the most trying sight of all bestowed your own two eyes.
An empty coffee pot.
A dramatic sigh fell from your lips as you set about putting on a fresh pot. Measuring the water, leveling the scoops of whole sale purchased, generic brand grounds with a shake of the wrist, and clicking the button who’s label had been rubbed clean off from years of use and thousands of cups of coffee made.
Luckily, you’d memorized the locations and functions of the buttons years ago and could make a pot with your eyes closed. The familiarity made you smile. You watched as the brownish liquid started to sputter into the glass below it, a slow drip forming and the smell of caffeine and a slight char filled the air.
The coffee itself wasn’t good, but you’d taken a liking to it over the past few months in particular. The long nights and early mornings spent playing catch up on paperwork between cases required caffeine. Then, the late night Skype calls that could only happen at random hours of the night did too, and that shit coffee became sweet nectar. You never risked missing a call.
Even though the coffee was shit, it was what you sipped on between hushed whispers and longing looks through the static filled webcam conversations. You were never quite sure if it was the coffee or the love that warmed your heart, but you’d never questioned it.
Until the calls stopped coming. And the coffee tasted bad again.
“The coffee overseas puts this stuff to shame,” a rough voice from behind you said, bringing you back from your trip down memory lane.
You chose not to move. Not to acknowledge the man behind you. Instead, you pulled the now full pot off the burner and filled your cup, leaving only a small amount of room for cream.
“Are you still using the vanilla creamer?” he tried again.
You pursed your lips and turned to face him. He immediately stood straighter, his eyes slightly widened and hopeful, awaiting your response. Your eyes narrowed as they searched his, no words willing to form in response.
After a moment, his eyes fell and he leaned against the counter, crossing his arms.
His voice dropped before he spoke again. “I wanted to come check on you. See how you’re feeling,” he explained to the floor.
Your eyes still hadn’t left his face. Your heart started pounding, a million words suddenly bubbling behind your lips. The months of anger, confusion, hurt, love, and pain threatened to flood the small kitchen you occupied without a life jacket in sight. The burning in your nose spread to your eyes and made its way to form a vise grip on your throat.
“How I’m feeling?” you asked slowly, the venom dropping from your tongue.
He wouldn’t look at you.
The heaving of your chest and ringing in your ears was warning enough this was not the time or place to share your honest thoughts with the man across from you.
“It’s a little late for that, wouldn’t you say?” The mug in your hand threatened to crack under the pressure in the small kitchenett-e. As his mouth opened the slightest bit, preparing to offer a response, it made the wise decision to close again.
You excused yourself curtly, skirting past him and out of the suddenly too-small room and back to the comfort of your desk, silently hoping the floor full of profilers would mind their own damn business for once.
——
“Hey, Hotch has some questions about the Wakeland case,” JJ said, approaching your desk.
“Yeah, sure he does.”
That stopped her in her tracks. She took a step back to catch your eye. “Hey,” she said softly.
You shot her an annoyed look. You wanted to be mad at her, too, but that was hard. She knew what it was to be shipped away overseas and have limited contact with her loved ones. Any attempt to complain to her would end up as sympathetic nods and constructive advice and a sensible perspective on the issue. Which was, frankly, not what you were in the mood for.
“Sorry,” you offered with a tight smile. “I just thought I was pretty thorough in my notes already.”
She gave a small smile in return, watching you stand and walk towards Hotch’s office.
You didn’t bother knocking before you entered, opting to set the tone of the conversation before it began.
Hotch’s eyes shot up at the intrusion, his hands still holding the case file. “I appreciate knocking,” he said sternly.
“Noted,” you quipped, crossing your arms.
Silence hung in the air as you both waited for the other to speak. When the feeling of him staring caused the burning to reach your neck and cheeks, you cleared your throat.
“JJ said you had questions about the Wakeland case,” you prompted.
He stared a moment longer before he spoke again. “Yes, but those can wait.”
You arched a brow. He closed the folder in front of him, folding his hands and resting them on top.
“I understand that my being back has been stressful for you,” he began cooly. You scoffed and shifted your weight to the other foot. He paused for a moment, then continued. “However, your frustration with me appears to be interfering with your conduct in the office, and that I can’t have.”
You willed your lips to remain shut, the words on the other side of them guaranteeing a one way ticket to the unemployment office.
You took a slow, deep breath before you brought your eyes to his. Where you thought you’d find a stoic, cold gaze was a soft, longing look that penetrated your defense. Still, you spoke cooly and evenly.
“I apologize for my misconduct. I understand that personal feelings do not belong in a professional work environment, and concerning the two with one another would be a stupid, selfish move to make. I can assure you it will not happen again.”
His head shook almost imperceptibly, the vein in his forehead made visible by the grinding of his jaw. He still wouldn’t speak. His eyes bore into yours, slowly chipping away at the defense you’d scrambled to build. Now was not the time to break. Now was not the time to show him just how much you’d missed him, and how badly it hurt to have missed him for so long. And now was certainly not the time to let tears illuminate the bags under your eyes from the late nights standing guard by the phone in case it rang and he was on the other end.
“Is there anything else?” you asked, your voice barely audible to your own ears.
You willed the tears forming in your eyes not to fall, and the heaving of your chest to remain at bay until you were safely out of his office.
He stood and crossed the room, stopping mere inches away from your face. You hadn’t been this close to him in months and the proximity was intoxicating. He still smelled familiar, despite not having been home, or in this time zone, for so long. The warmth radiating off of his chest fanned the flame burning in your lungs.
“I am sorry. I am so, so, so sorry.” His hand reached out towards your arm, but froze when your eyes flew to it, stopping it in its path. He slowly withdrew it, bringing it back to a fist at his side. Your lip found its way between your teeth as you processed his words.
When he began again, his voice was low and rushed, like if he didn’t get the words out in time you might not hear them. Your eyes remained on the spot on your arm where he’d almost touched you. “I know this wasn’t easy for you, me being gone. I didn’t know it would be for so long, and I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you anything. I wanted to, believe me, but I couldn’t.” He stopped for a moment and the fist at his side fell open, his fingers flexed for a moment.
“I missed you,” he whispered.
Your eyes flew to his and narrowed. His brows furrowed and his mouth fell open slightly, unsure if it was best to continue or not. “Is there anything else?” You almost didn’t recognize the cold voice as your own.
He took a step back, and you knew instantly he was attempting to profile you and the situation at hand. The logical side of your brain was telling your feet to move- to get the hell out from under his gaze. The more time he spent analyzing the way your heart was pounding and your bottom lip was beginning to quiver, the worse the odds of you making it out of his office in one piece became.
But even still, the burning in your chest and aching in your fingertips to reach out to him refused to subside. The compromise left your feet glued in place, begging for him to make the next move and decide your fate for you. “It must have been hard. To be here alone. To have your thoughts with nothing but idle time to fuel their worries.”
Your eyes slid shut. If you were going to listen, seeing him too would be too much.
“I thought about you constantly. I wondered how you were doing. I wondered if you were-”
There was that damn question again. How are you doing?
If there had only been a way to find out. Had there only been some way to get in contact with someone to answer those questions. To quell the anxious thoughts.
You laughed once, the burning in your throat from the tears turning into fire instead, fueling your words. “You could have fucking called. You could have called. You should have called!”
Your sudden exclamation caught him off guard, his hands backing up defensively.
“You wanted to know how I was, Aaron?” you snapped, “Let me tell you.”
“I was sick to my fucking stomach each and every day not knowing if you were okay. I had no way of knowing if you were blown to bits or boarding the next plane home.” The tears had started to flow, but you couldn’t stop. “For months, I had to put a face on and lie to my own team about being okay. These people trusted me with their lives and I couldn’t even trust them with the truth about how I was doing.” Your words came between broken sobs, and tears blurred your vision. “It was exhausting! I would go home and lay in bed with my phone on the loudest volume, my laptop open, and pager under my pillow just in case you called! And you didn’t!”
It briefly crossed your mind that the glass in his office wasn’t sound proof, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You finally had the responsible party in front of you and there was no stopping the words from coming.
Your hands flew to cover your eyes, the pressure of your palms digging into the hollow sockets offering a strange sense of relief.
“No. You know what? No. I’m not doing this right now.” The words were more for yourself than him, but they worked all the same.
“Let me explain. Please,” he tried, speaking gently, like you were an unstable unsub wielding a knife. That only served to piss you off even more. His arm dared reach towards you again, seeking contact.
“No!” Your shoulder jerked away from his touch as your other hand came up to point an accusatory finger in his face. “You don’t get to talk me down. The time for talking was months ago. You fucked up, Aaron.”
The use of an expletive so close to his name was never something he was a fan of, and you knew that. His raised brow fell to its familiar stern position and his mouth set in a hard line.
“If I could have contacted you, I would have. When we moved bases, our access to phones and internet became nearly nonexistent.” Albeit logical, his reasoning only served to further enrage you.
You opened your mouth to speak again, he silenced you with his hands firmly gripping both shoulders, not tentatively seeking permission this time. “I’m sorry. You have every right to be upset with me. I understand that you might need time away-”
This time it was your turn to cut him off. “But I don’t, Aaron. I don’t need time away from you. I missed you. I needed you,” you whispered between sniffles.
His grip on your shoulders and the stern look on his face both softened. “I missed you too,” he said.
Your eyes fell as the harshness around your words fell away, revealing the pain they bore instead.
“I missed you, and I hated you, and the only person I wanted to talk to about it was worlds away,” you whispered.
His arms came around you and brought you to his chest, tucking you into the crook of his neck as he rested a stubbly cheek atop your head. A fresh set of tears formed, spilling from your cheeks and staining the button up he wore open.
And you let him hold you for a while. For how long, you couldn’t be sure. It felt so right to finally be in his arms. To know that he was safe. To know that he wanted to be here with you as much as you wanted him to be.
When your breathing had evened out again, he pulled you away from his chest and held your face in his hands.
“I will never leave you again,” he said. He spoke it like a promise. One you knew better than to believe in this line of work, anyway.
You gave him a small half- smile and shrugged. “If you do, at least send me a smoke signal. Something, anything.”
He laughed, which was a rare occurrence, but a delightful one nonetheless. Each shoulder shake seemed to take a weight off of him, the worries fell away as he brought his eyes back to yours. A small giggle escaped your lips too, the emotional rollercoaster of the day deeming no other reaction worthy. Memories of nights spent awake, waiting by the phone seemed close to forgotten. The anxious pit that had permanently resided in your stomach disappeared, and your laughter became celebratory.
When your mutual fit of giggles finally subsided, his eyes landed on your lips. “I missed you,” he breathed.
Your hand came to rest on his wrist, rubbing quick circles across it as his hold on your jaw became more insistent. His hands began pulling you towards him, inching your faces closer together. In a split second of self-awareness, you pulled your face away.
“Aaron-” you started, motioning towards the door. The blinds were closed, but you were still at work.
His eyes didn’t leave your face, his hands finding their place again, turning your face back to his moments before your lips met. “I don’t care,” he whispered, his lips just barely brushing yours, “I missed you. And I love you, and I don’t care who knows it,” he finished.
The soft gasp that escaped your lips served as all the invitation he needed to seal your lips together, stealing the rest of the breath from your lungs.
His hands worked themselves from your face to your sides, pulling you impossibly close. The kiss was soft and unrushed, his hands firm but strong. Your hands found themselves at the nape of his neck, intertwining in the new length found there. He kissed you breathless, until all the cracks in your heart were filled, and the hurt and anger of the past few months was replaced with warmth.
When you finally broke away, he didn’t let you go far. He rested his forehead against yours, keeping his grip on you firm, still. “I love you,” he whispered. You nodded against him, not yet ready for that moment to pass. “I love you,” he said again. You opened your mouth to speak, but he continued. “I knew before I left, but I didn’t tell you. I knew from the first time I asked you to dinner and you said no because your show was on. I knew the moment you insisted on only ever taking your coffee with that vanilla creamer. I knew from the first time I kissed you,” his eyes opened and bore into yours. “And being away from you, and not being able to talk to you or tell you was unbearable. I’m sorry. I am so sorry.” His head shook as he spoke, like he was shaking away a bad memory.
You bit your lip to stop new tears from forming, and pulled your head away so you could look him in the eye. Your hand came up to cup his cheek, and he nuzzled into your palm.
“I love you, Aaron,” you whispered. The light in his eyes mirrored yours as the smile spread across your face. You ran your thumb across his cheek, admiring the feeling. “I could get used to this.” He hummed and smiled, pulling you back under his chin and wrapping his arms around you.
“So, did you actually have questions about the case? Or..” you asked, starting to pull away.
His body shook with a laugh as he closed the small gap you’d created, placing scratchy, bearded kisses on your face.
——
Let’s talk about it!
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wiypt-writes · 4 years ago
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Stark Spangled Banner
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Ch48: The Terrible Twos Part 1: More? 
Intro: In the fourth year since the snap, Jamie enters the terrible twos.
Warnings: Bad Language words. Smut (NSFW, 18+)
Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark
A/N:  So this chapter is kind of a little different to the others here really, as it’s almost like a collection of long drabbles detailing their life over 2022. And just a little reminded, Phobias, Steve admits to Katie he has a fear of clowns…keep that in mind! Also linked to this chapter is a smutty little One Shot- Got You By The Chain- Guest writer @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​
Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.
Chapter 47
Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist
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April 2022
By the fourth anniversary of the Snap, it finally looked like society was moving on. There was still a lot to do, but most schools and Universities were fully functioning, TV shows and Movies were back in production, restaurants and shops seemed to have gotten back to some level of ‘normality’. Whilst places weren’t as buzzing as they had been, it seemed like people were finally taking those baby steps forward, which was the mantra Steve continued to preach at his support groups.
If only it was that easy to follow your own advice. 
Steve, and the rest of those of them who had fought Thanos and been spared, would be lying if they said their failure wasn’t still at the back of their minds. But nothing short of a time machine was going to bring any of those stones back. They had to learn to live with it, and for the most they did, their lives had moved on. Tony, Pepper, Steve and Katie had become parents, so they had something to focus on. Natasha, however, was all over the place, focussing even more with Rhodey on trying to track down Clint, the archer having given his vigilante alter-ego a name- Ronin-the word taken to be an idiomatic expression for “vagrant” or “wandering man”, someone who is without a home- or so Katie’s research told them.
‘Ronin’, was still leaving trails of death and destruction all over the place and both Steve and Katie had tried to coax Natasha out of pursuing him too much. As usual, she completely ignored them and had also point blank refused to attend any of the support groups. In the end Steve had stopped asking.
He and Katie found most of their time taken up dealing with Jamie who had entered what the parents now knew why everyone dubbed the terrible twos. He was a nightmare, not necessarily due to bad behaviour but he was so boisterous and such a rough and tumble little boy thanks to the half of him that held the super serum and he was ridiculously clever too. He was constantly up to mischief, which was why now, one Thursday morning Steve was stood in the kitchen, an equal mixture of exasperation and fear flooding his system as he gazed up at his son who was once again sat on top of their large stainless steel fridge freezer, about a foot out of his dad’s reach. This was his favourite activity at the moment and neither Steve nor Katie had no idea how he kept getting up there.
The soldier was currently torn between grabbing a chair to climb up to get him down and being rooted to the spot, not wanting to move in case the tot threw himself off which he was prone to doing.
“Jamie, please come on.” Steve sighed.
“No.” “I’ll give you a cookie if you get down.” Steve pleaded, cursing inwardly at the fact he was resorting to bribery. Jamie cocked his head to one side, clearly weighing up his options and then his face split into a grin.
“Nom!” He grinned and then in a flash launched himself forward.
“Fuck.” Steve cursed, forgetting his language as he stepped back, catching the toddler in his arms, heart in his mouth. Jamie giggled as his dad’s strong arms caught him.
“Don’t do that!” Steve sighed. “Please.” He added weakly.
“Fuck.” Jamie repeated with a laugh and Steve groaned.
“No, we don’t say that.” “Why?”
“It’s a bad word.” Steve explained setting him on the counter in front of him. “Only momma and daddy can say that. And even then we shouldn’t.”  He reached for the kitchen cupboard, undoing the child lock before he grabbed the jar and held out a cookie for Jamie.
“Fankoo, Daddy”
“You’re welcome, but that doesn’t mean every time you climb something you get one.” Steve looked at him sternly.
Jamie stared back at him, his mouth full and Steve knew they boy didn’t care one iota about the utter horror he had just put him through. A fact further emphasised when the tot raised his right hand and held his forefinger and middle finger to his eyes, moving them towards his dad.
“Yeah, I am watching you, pal.” Steve arched an eyebrow at him, mentally cursing Tony once again for teaching his son ridiculous habits. “You done?”
Jamie nodded. “More?” “Not a chance.” Steve snorted, lifting him down off the counter and herding him into the living room where he distracted his boy successfully for an hour and a half or so watching Frozen, his current favourite Disney film whilst he checked over his notes for the support groups he was holding later on that afternoon. Then he gave Jamie his lunch, meals being the most painless part of his routine as the kid ate anything you put in front of him, and they set off to meet Katie at the tower. 
“Hi Mr Rogers, Hi Jamie!” Soraya, Katie’s PA, greeted them holding up her hand. Jamie leant over the desk in his father’s arms and gave her a hi-five.
“Hi, Sowaya!” He beamed and she smiled back before she turned to Steve. “She’s in the office but you might wanna wait a few seconds before you go in.” Steve was about to ask why, when he heard his wife’s angry voice through the closed door and he grimaced. Someone was getting an absolute earful and he didn’t envy them one bit.
That someone, was Jack Thompson, Katie’s Finance Manager. As part of Stark Industries programme to help orphaned older teenagers post the snap, Katie had given the go head for each major department to recruit interns to give them a spring start and a means to fund themselves. Only for the third day in a row now she had caught Jack ordering his intern to make coffees for the entire office. Not that it wasn’t part of an intern’s initiation, she understood that, but when she had drilled the girl a little more, it seems that was all she was doing, along with photocopying.
“That is not what the programme is about!” She blazed as she leant forward over her desk, Jack lounging in the chair at the other side. He raised an eyebrow at her and that made her bristle even more. “Sorry, I’m not sure what is amusing you about this situation.”
“Nothing, Mrs Rogers.” He shrugged back. “I just think you’re overacting slightly.” “Oh do you?” She asked, her voice raising further. “Well here’s an overreaction for you, you get that girl some proper jobs and activities to work on or you’ll be out of here faster than my two year old can scale the fridge.” Jack frowned
“Which is fast” Katie clarified, realising that there were all sorts of things wrong with that analogy.
“Things were a lot different with your brother at the helm.” Jack looked at her. Katie crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at him.
“Well I’m not my brother. If you don’t like it, feel free to leave your resignation letter on my desk.”
Jack eyeballed her for a moment before he nodded. “Understood, loud and clear.” “Good.” She stood up whilst he did the same and she smoothed down her white A-lined high wasted skirt and white blouse. Her black stilettoes clicked on the wooden flooring of her office and she opened the door, nodding out of it. Jack left, not even glancing around until a small voice rang out across the room.
“Momma shouted!” Jamie giggled gleefully. Jack stopped, looked at the boy, then to Steve who simply smiled at the man before he stalked away.
“Jerk.” Katie mumbled under her breath before she beamed at her boys. “Hi!”
“HI Momma!” Jamie grinned, wriggling until Steve popped him down and he ran to his mom to give her a hug. Steve had a split second to perve on his wife, because damned she looked good in that office outfit, before Jamie was in her arms, his mom not caring if his shoes or hands were going to dirty her clothes. She placed a kiss to his cheek as Steve walked towards her dropping one of his own onto her lips.
“Yuk!” Jamie pulled a face.
“So what had he done to earn himself the full wrath of my baby momma?” Steve jerked his head towards the door and Katie groaned.
“Just being awkward when it comes to the interns. I don’t think he’s going to last much longer.” “Good.” Soraya shot. “He’s a creep.”
Katie grinned. “So you tell me.”
Soraya shrugged. “I’m not the only one who thinks so.”
“Hmm.” Katie pondered, before she shrugged. “What’s my diary like for the rest of the day?”
“You’re clear now until four and then you have a conference call with a couple of potential authors for SIP.”
“Why don’t you do it from home?” Steve looked at her. “You were here at seven this morning.” Katie pondered before nodding. Placing Jamie on the floor she headed back into her office and grabbed her jacket and her bag, before linking her hand round her son’s.
“If anyone needs me, can you tell them to email or call my mobile, please?”
Soraya nodded “See you tomorrow, Mrs Rogers. Bye Captain, bye Jamie!”
“Bye bye!” Jamie waved as Katie led him to the elevator, Steve holding his other hand.
“You had lunch?” Steve looked over at her and she shook her head.
“It’s been manic.”
“Good, because neither have I. Thought we could grab something before I head off to the group.”
Katie grinned and leaned up to give him a kiss. “Perfect.” “Lunch?” Jamie piped up and Steve looked down at him.
“Buddy, you ate an entire bowl of spaghetti at home.” “But, I’m hungry.” He pouted and Katie looked at Steve.
“He gets that off you.” She smirked and Steve rolled his eyes.
“Who does he get climbing the fridge off?” He asked.
“Again?”
“Yeah, had to bribe him down with a cookie.”
Katie snorted. “Well I don’t know about the climbing bit but he definitely gets the negotiation skills from me”
“It wasn’t a negotiation.” Steve scoffed, as the doors opened on the ground floor “It was out and out extortion.”
Katie laughed as they stepped out into the reception, heading to the front doors which opened automatically.
“Let’s go to the deli round the corner.” She suggested and Steve nodded, positioning himself on the outside of the sidewalk as always, Jamie on the inside of his two parents as they slowed their pace to allow their son to walk the block or so round the corner.
“Momma?” He asked tugging on hand. “Yes baby?” “I haff tuna?”
“If you want tuna, yeah.”
At that point Steve, who had been watching the two of them, turned and almost walked straight into another pedestrian.
“Oh, sorry Ma’am.” He nodded to her at the same time Jamie uttered.
“Fuck.” Katie stopped dead and turned to look down at him, her voice growing stern. “James Anthony Samuel Rogers, what did you just say?”
He blinked up at her as Steve groaned, crouching down in front of his son. “I told you that was a bad word.” He softly chastised the two year old.
“Sowee Momma,Sowee daddy.” Jamie’s eyes looking down at his feet as he toed the sidewalk slightly with his little sneakers.
“Thank you for apologising.” Steve ruffled his hair as he stood up. “Don’t say it again.” “Okay.” “Where did he hear that?” Katie looked accusingly at Steve and he hesitated for a moment.
“Tony?” He shrugged, a sheepish smile crossing his face as he rubbed the back of his neck with his hand.
Katie narrowed her eyes. “You’re still a terrible liar.” 
******
June 2022
“Now don’t go mad Spangles.” Tony immediately greeted Steve as he shut the car door and headed across the lawn area to the side of the lake house. Instantly Steve narrowed his eyes.
“What have you done?” He asked, following Tony down a well-trodden path to the back of the house where a small play tent was erected.
“Nothing.” Tony shrugged, as Steve followed him round to the back of the house. “Well, nothing bad, just…”
“Stop, or I’ll shoot!” Steve heard Morgan speak before she popped her head out of the tent, and held her left hand out in front of her. She was wearing a red glove with some form of battery powered light strapped to the palm. Before Steve could comment, Jamie followed, the same item on his right.
“Pew pew!” He grinned, making the noise at his dad. Steve took a deep breath and scowled at Tony.
“Really?”
“Hey look, it was this or the actual gauntlets so,” he shrugged and then Steve really did give him a glare. Tony held his hands up. ���I was in the garage tinkering and they saw them and wanted one of their own so…”
“Iron Man!” Jamie grinned up at his dad “Look Daddy, like Unca Nee!”
“And I suppose those just have to come back to my house with the pair of them tonight?” Steve narrowed his eyes at Tony. “You know, I can always refuse to babysit.”
“Err, no you can’t.” Tony smirked. “First off we had Jamie last night so you and Katie could have a night alone, and second off…” “Uncle Pangles!” Morgan threw herself at him, her arms wrapping around his legs. “We can play tonight, I stay at yours!”
“…you can’t resist her Stark charm.” Tony smirked as Steve sighed, bending down to give his niece a kiss on the head.
Katie tried not to laugh at the look on Steve’s face as he recounted the incident later that evening as they sat out in the back round the fire pit torching S’mores with Emmy. Jamie and Morgan were fast asleep in Jamie’s room.
“Well Dad,” Emmy sat back and looked at him, her brown eyes flashing with mischief, “sometimes you gotta fight fire with fire…”
“What you got in mind?” He looked at her.
“We’re pretty good at art, right?” She shrugged and Steve nodded. “Let’s put it to use.”
So the next morning, as soon as the hardware shop opened, Emmy and Steve were in there gathering supplies for the Great Rogers Revenge plan, sharing a victorious hi-five whilst they loaded the trunk of the car up with their ammo. Katie told them she didn’t want to know what they were planning and she meant it, steering clear of Steve’s man-cave for the rest of the morning, calling them back to the house at eleven ish for a coffee and a slice of banana bread when Natasha dropped in. The two women could hear Steve and Emmy sniggering as they approached and when they walked into the kitchen, Katie was greeted by the pair of them holding up their finished items.
“Oh my God!” Natasha spluttered. There was a slight pause, before Katie cracked up laughing as Steve and Emmy held up their masterpieces. They had painted the insides of two small metal trash can lids to look like replicas of Steve’s shield.
“I got the idea from a picture in my history books.” Emmy said, grinning “Some young kids in a Brooklyn street after the war, playing with the lids like they were shields…” “Perfect handles to hold them with, look.” Steve grinned, flipping his round “And they’re spray varnished too so the paint won’t rub off.”
“Cap!” Jamie shrieked as the sight of the items Steve and Emmy were holding.
“Wow!” Morgan looked up in awe “Is one for me?” “Sure is, Moo.” Steve bent down and showed the two children how to grab the shield with their hands on the handles and, once he was confident they had got it, they shot out of the back door and down onto the grass, Lucky leaping up from where he had been snoozing under a tree and heading inside out of the way.
“Just do me a favour and don’t show teach ‘em to throw them.” Katie sighed, watching as Jamie was busy holding his shield in front of him as Morgan aimed her faker repulsor beam clad hand at him.
Steve shook his head, grabbing a piece of cake. “No point, we tried and it doesn’t work. They don’t have the same weight or trajectory.”
“Yeah, they just kinda hover for a bit and then fall down.” Emmy shrugged, her mouth full of banana bread. “This is good, mom.”
“Thanks.” Katie smiled “Nat you want another piece?”
“No thanks.” she shook her head, “don’t wanna ruin our lunch.” “Lunch?” Steve paused, the slice of cake halfway to his mouth.
“I told you last night,” Katie rolled her eyes, “me and Nat are off for lunch and shopping.”
“You wanna come Em?” Nat asked.
“Nope.” She shook her head. “I wanna be here when Uncle Tony picks these two up.”
She fist bumped Steve and Katie shook her head at the pair of them.
“Well, I do not. Gimme two mins Nat and I’ll grab my shoes.”
**** “So, Steve and I are taking the kids away in a month or so, why don’t you come with us?” Katie asked as they sat in a small tapas bar, just off Times Square. Nat pondered for a while before she shook her head.
“I can’t leave the compound.”
“Why not?” “If something goes wrong, I need to be there.” “Nat,” Katie sighed, “it isn’t your responsibility. The Avengers, we’re not…” Natasha cut her off, “Don’t, please,” she shook her head, “it’s my job. If I can help in even the smallest of ways then I should.” Katie bit her lip before she reached over for her glass of water. She understood that in all fairness, Steve had gone through his own phase of feeling useless not long after the snap but had found his niche for sure with the support groups. If this was how Nat was dealing with it then…
“Anyway, enough about that.” Nat changed the subject. “Tell me more about the delightful language my God-Son has been learning.” Katie groaned. “Did I tell you about the whole, oh Fuck thing a few months back?” “Yeah.”
“Well a few nights ago we’re sat at the table and he suddenly shouts ‘Daddy, fuck.’ So, of course Steve tells him off. But he doesn’t stop. ‘Momma, fuck, Emmy, fuck…’ and Steve’s getting more and more exasperated, trying to tell him to stop, and wasn’t until Jamie pointed to the table and shouts ‘need fuck’ we realised he wanted a fork for his pasta and not the spoon we had given him.” Katie grinned as Natasha laughed. “Honestly Nat, I thought Steve was gonna have a heart attack.”
“Yeah he doesn’t like that kinda language.” Natasha grinned biting into a breadstick.
“I wouldn’t mind but he taught Jamie that word, not intentionally of course. And then there was the jackass incident.”
“What?”
“Someone pulled out in front of me at a junction. I forgot he was in the car so I slammed on the horn and flipped him off shouting ‘jackass’ out the window.” Katie took another drink of her water “Didn’t think anything of it until we were leaving Tony’s later that afternoon. I wound the back windows down in the car so Jamie could wave. Only he doesn’t wave, he raises his middle finger and calls Tony a jackass”
Natasha laughed. “Well, he’s not wrong.”
“Funnily enough that’s what Steve said.” Katie grinned. “Mind you, what he did at the supermarket the other day tops it all.” She took a bite of her garlic mushrooms. “He’s sat in the trolley and loud as you like shouts ‘I got a woody in my pants’. The woman in the aisle next to us just looks at us and Steve starts trying to explain that he was wearing Toy Story underpants, I mean…”
Natasha spluttered out her calamari, choking slightly as she started to laugh, Katie grinned before she too chuckled. It was funny now she thought about it. Tto be honest Katie had found it funny at the time, Steve was the one that had flushed bright red. At that point her phone began to ring and she fished it out of her bag.
“Uh oh.” She winced and looked at Nat
“Stark?”
She nodded “Hi Tone…” “Oh don’t hi Tone me,” his voice hit her ears, “your husband is a grade A…”
“I hope you don’t have Morgan in the car whilst you’re being so angry.” Katie jokingly chastised her brother
“A trash can lid. A god-damned trashcan lid.” “Yeah well you send our kid home with some of your shit, we’re gonna repay the favour, now if you don’t mind…”
She cut the call and saw that she had a message from Steve.
Game, set and match to Spangles ;-)
She snorted.
“Are they ever gonna stop this tit for tat with the kids?” Natasha asked.
Katie shook her head, smiling. In all honesty she kind of liked the friendly little feud they had going. It was all good natured, and she enjoyed the closeness of her family.  “Nope. Sometimes I forget exactly who the kids are. The pair of them act worse than two year olds.”
******
August 2022
“Did Em tell you about the bloke at the harbour?” Steve asked, looking at Katie. The two of them were sat on the veranda of the villa on Tony’s Island. It was the last night of their two week vacation and the family had spent the time playing in the pool, on the beach- Emmy and Jamie scouring the sand for shells and other mementoes to bring home. Jamie had been particularly taken with watching the fishing boats as they left and returned from the small harbour, Steve often taking him and Emmy down to watch when they brought back their catches of the day, the small boy engaging as enthusiastically and as well he could with his two-year-old vocabulary and the locals had been nothing but gracious and kind back to him and his older sibling.
 Katie suspected it was for that reason that they had returned earlier that night with a selection of seafood which Katie had enjoyed preparing for them, along with numerous salads, potatoes and some local fruits for afters. The four had gorged themselves and the kids, after no protest at all due to them being exhausted, were now tucked up in bed leaving the married couple to take in their last night alone.
“No?” Katie looked at Steve.
“He kept asking me how much I wanted for her.” Steve smirked and Katie laughed. “She thought it was hilarious too, until I offered to sell her for three lobsters and a couple mahi-mahi.”
“Oh I bet she loved that.” Katie looked at him, as he shrugged, drinking from his beer bottle. “Mind you, it is kinda freaky, just how much she’s grown. I mean she’s fifteen this October.” “Tell me about it.” Steve grumbled “We got all that stuff to come yet.” “What stuff?” Katie asked, eyeing him over her wine glass.
“You know,” he waved the hand that was clutching his beer, “boys and…whatever.” Katie snorted. “What you gonna do when she does finally bring a boy back to meet us?” She asked, swinging her bare legs up and placing her feet in his lap.
“Be waiting with a shot gun.” Steve grumbled, his spare hand dropping to her smooth skin, fingers gently tracing up and down her calf.
“That’s a dramatic shovel talk.” Katie raised an eyebrow at him.
“Oh I won’t talk. Just hold it across my lap and look at him.” “You’re terrible.” Katie sniggered as his hand gently continued its ministrations on her leg.
Steve chuckled and Katie glanced out over the bay, sighing slightly It had been a great few weeks, just one person really missing.
“I wish Nat would have come.” 
“She’s worrying me,” Steve sighed. “It’s not healthy, being cooped up in that place, alone.”
“I know.”  Katie nodded. “But there’s not much we can do other than be there for her.”
Steve took a breath, laying his head back against his chair as the warm sea breeze hit them. Katie glanced over at where he was sat, his skin slightly more tanned, the freckles that sprang over his nose during the summer were now even more pronounced although they couldn’t rival hers. His hair had been cropped short again, and he’d even sprouted the thin smattering of a beard over the last two weeks, although he’d told Katie sternly he wasn’t growing it out again.
“I’m Captain America at those support groups, and he doesn’t have a beard.”
As Katie drank him in she noticed that over the years, whilst he had aged slightly, he hadn’t changed nearly as much as she had. All the studies, backed up by Banner’s research, estimated that Steve would age at a rate approximately fifteen to twenty years younger than the average person. At some points this worried her, as she knew that in fifteen years or so he would only look to be in his late thirties when they would both be realistically, going off the years spent living and not buried in ice, midway through their fifties, but that was something she’d known before she had married him.
And she supposed that as long as he didn’t care how old she looked it didn’t matter.
“Want a photo or summi’k” Steve asked, his eyes on his wife, as she was simply looking at him, clearly contemplating something. She smiled at the way his Brooklyn drawl dripped off his voice as it always did when he was relaxed. He cocked his head slightly to one side, smiling gently at her as his beer bottle rest against his leg. Deciding she wanted distracting from the ridiculous worry that had sprung up on her, she grinned and moved her feet before she stood up. Taking the bottle off him she placed it on the table and settled on his lap, her knees either side of his thighs, as he smirked up at her.
“Summik sounds good.” She muttered kissing him hard. Their tongues began their usual dance until he pulled back and looked at her, sweeping her hair off her face. Simply put, in his eyes, his wife was stunning. Her freckles which always became more pronounced in the sun spread across her nose and her cheeks, giving her an even more youthful look than normal. Her hair was now a few inches above her waist, having grown down from the shoulder length cut she had sported whilst they’d been on the run and was falling over her face in a mass of beach tangled curls, which Steve adored. Her figure, Jesus, he could look at her all day, curves across her hips, breasts…he’d been exceptionally pleased that, despite her confidence issues over her body not being what it used to be, she’d been wearing a two-piece swimsuit, even if it was one that covered her midriff. He knew better now that to try and argue that he didn’t give a damned about the fact her stomach was slightly less flat than it used to be, or her hips were wider, Steve simply let her get on with dressing how she felt comfortable and lavished affection and praise on her every chance he got, because frankly, there wasn’t a think about his wife he didn’t adore.
He questioned every, single day how he had gotten so goddamned lucky and it had been him she’d chosen to spend the rest of her life with.
“What’s wrong?” She frowned, noticing the contemplative look in his eyes.
“Nothing at all, Baby.” He shook his head, reaching down and pulling off the crochet dress she was wearing over her swim suit top and denim shorts. “Just thinking about how I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you look so beautiful.” She grinned as his fingers moved to undo the string that held her top around her neck, causing it to fall forward leading her bare from the waist up. He simply admired her for a moment as her hands wound into his hair and she gave a soft tug, causing his head to tilt upwards to look at her. “Not even when we got married?”
“Hmmm.” He contemplated, her lips hovering near his as she leant down, his hands creeping up her sides. “Maybe, but you weren’t my baby momma then.”
Katie grinned, she loved it when he called her that. Gently kissing him she pulled back and looked at him. “I’ve not changed that much have I?” She teased as she pushed down on his crotch and he groaned.
“Nope,” he muttered before kissing her hard, grinding his hips up against hers.
“Take me to bed Captain.” She murmured into his mouth, at him with suggestive eyes which peered from underneath heavy lids.
“Yes ma’am” he grinned, and in a swoop he’d picked her up and carried her inside.
**** Chapter 48 Part 2
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pitiless-achilles-wept · 4 years ago
Text
Not dead yet!: Marking my 2-year anniversaries
On Sunday I marked my two-year “cancerversary” of my diagnosis and on Tuesday a member of the support group I co-founded (for young women who are stage 4) died. Like me, she had triple-negative breast cancer. Like me, she was diagnosed stage 4 two years ago. Like me, she had exhausted several types of treatment (because triple-negative is a beast) and was looking for the one that would work. She asked me about Saci (Sassy!) and proposed trying it to her doctor less than a week before she died. Nine days before she passed she joined our Sunday cancer yoga group from bed at the hospital to join our meditation exercises. Like me, she remained confident and positive and absolutely refused to give up hope. (Like me, she also wore her hair purple sometimes.)
There were many things that are unlike about us too. She had two teenage children who now don’t have their mother. She was twelve years older than me and had had Hodgkin’s before she had breast cancer--even worse luck than mine, to triumph over one cancer only to get this diagnosis. Unlike me, she wasn’t strong enough for Saci, the only targeted triple-negative line of treatment, because her body had reacted badly to immunotherapy. She was in the hospital for two weeks with somewhat mysterious symptoms all of which added up to her body shutting down. On Saturday she went home with her family in hospice care. 2 days later she was gone.
It’s not usual for things to go so fast. Typically, doctors, patients, and family members all have some advance warning and patients spend a solid amount of time in hospice care. I am sure that people will ask me why it went that way for her. I’m asking myself why too, since it is so shocking and so entirely unfair. The fact that it can happen that way at all is frightening to me as a fellow patient since it’s the scenario of nightmares. That really could someday be me. No one ever wants to think that--and I cannot live my life focused on it either--but it has to be acknowledged as a possibility.
[More below the cut about memories from 2 years ago today and hopes for the future. Also, an invitation to contribute to some writing if you want.]
Today, January 28th, is the 2-year anniversary of my stage 4 diagnosis. In a way, it feels more significant than my initial cancer news. I had four days being horrified, but thinking that I would get through this as a phase in my life. It would be terrible--I’d have a double mastectomy, scorched-earth chemo, radiation, anything to get rid of the cancer--but then it would be done. On the Monday following my first set of CT scans I learned that that was not true. My lungs were full of tumors. (Later, after lots of waiting, MRIs and biopsies, I'd find that my lymph nodes, spine, and liver were affected too. I still have tumors in all those locations, but no new ones.) I wrote a description of getting that news in an email to a friend over the summer, after I had read Anne Boyer’s "The Undying”:
“The worst part about the lung tumors for me was that my dad had gotten a very early flight and I learned the news while he was in the air. My mom told me we could not text or tell him on the phone, that he would need to be with us both. So I drove to Newark straight from the doctor's office. It was in the teens outside and windy as we slogged to the baggage area where we were to meet. I saw my dad in his warmest and ugliest puffy orange down jacket, looking small in it, forlorn and horribly vulnerable. I fell into his arms, thinking at least that airports were such horrible places, so impersonal and banal, that no one would look twice. 'It's in my lungs,' I said into his shoulder so that I would not have to see his face. I was crying into the jacket that somehow smelled of winter cold even though he had been inside for hours. 'Please, Daddy. Fix it, please.' I spoke like a child because, on some very deep level, I think I really did still believe that my father could fix anything. I was embarrassed, though, and so I tried to stem my tears as he put his big hand on the back of my head and said, 'Oh sweetie, we'll get through this. We will.' I knew that really he could do nothing--and that this was his nightmare of powerlessness--and so I sniffed and blinked and I did not let myself cry again until June.”
Two years later this moment seems as if it just happened. The impact of my diagnosis on everyone dear to me, and especially my parents, is one of the worst things about it for me. We all know that there’s only so much “better” I can get, with the current science, and we’re all playing for time while the research moves forward towards something better, something that would make this a treatable chronic condition. I go back and forth, emotionally, on how likely I think that is and how good my position is for the future. Right now, comparing myself to the group member who died, I feel relatively fortunate, even as chemo exhausts me, I lose every scrap of hair that was ever on my body, and I spend half of my days being almost unable to eat from nausea and loss of taste. I feel glad that I was able to get Saci, that my body has so far stood up to the ceaseless trials I have put it through, with four treatments and surgery (and full-time work and living alone etc. etc.). I feel strong, not scared, even as I feel the emotional toll of terrible loneliness from covid isolation, winter, and carrying a sick body through my days alone.
I do not love the “fight” metaphor because so much of having an illness is completely out of your control and I never want to take myself (or anyone else) to task for “losing.” And so instead I will praise my body for enduring. I will praise myself for my enduring also, in both an emotional and physical way. I checked back in on how I was feeling as this anniversary approached last year and was pleased to see how much better I feel about it now, partly as a function of being in a treatment that is (likely) keeping me stable rather than in the midst of choosing another new one. Here is what I wrote back to my group of friends in November 2019, the run up to the one-year mark:
“I’m feeling like I can’t plan and don’t want to celebrate, like I can’t perform “fine” for the people in my life to spare them from the pain I’m causing by not doing better and feeling horrible about it. Perhaps it would help if I let them know that they didn’t need to perform “fine” for me? I understand the desire to protect me from the obligation to take care of them and appreciate it. But sometimes it can feel like I’m the only one experiencing anger or grief or pain, though I know I’m not. Feeling so isolated in my emotional response provides no catharsis for it. Compassion and sympathy function on the notion of “fellow feeling.” If you’re just out here, feeling by yourself, you can’t expect any comfort. As always, I think of the moment in the Iliad when Priam and Achilles cry together over dead Hector. Grief (and you can grieve for many things aside from a death) is something explicitly to be shared.” So I guess I’ve shared it here. I can do that. And I can do another thing, which is to tell you I love you. People don’t really say it enough and reserve it too entirely for romantic contexts. It’s weird--it’s not like we are wartime rationing love! And every time anyone says it to me it helps. It’s an affirmation that I am integral in some way to people’s lives which, in a society that so greatly valorizes marriage/partnership and children, is something I can be in doubt about.”
There are some things I like here, though, and that I would now like to reiterate and invite you, my far-flung friends, to do for my 2-year milestone. Never has the notion of “fellow feeling” in times of grief and depression hit harder or been more important than during covid. In a way, the nation (or even world) was forced into much the same position, emotionally and practically, that my cancer put me in. People are isolated, unable to perform “fine” and wondering if other people feel the same way, or even if any of us can take care of each other at all. I am here to tell you that you can. Maybe not immediately but--sooner than you think--you can. Emotional reserves may be low but reaching out to support someone else can actually replenish them. You do not have to feel alone, or to feel, alone.
And for me, for this milestone and for the cancer-related depression that I certainly do have, I’d like to invite you to help me, so that I can do the same for you. I invite you to write something about how this milestone feels for you (either about me or not), how it relates to all the other insane things going on in the world or with you (not about me at all), how you felt on the original day when I shared my stage 4 diagnosis (definitely about me)--really anything that is on your mind or in your heart.
“Oh great,” you may think, “the English PhD has asked us to do homework!”. But no! It's up to you what you do. Write in whatever form you want, however long, even anonymously. And if you do I will write you back! Not with grades or comments, but with something to connect to what you shared. It is a way to create fellow-feeling; to open up, connect, heal. With me, yes, but also as the group of extraordinary people who have gone with me so far on this hard road. It’s a very different proposition to support someone through time-limited treatment with a good outcome than it is to sign on for whatever comes next. You are all, truly, pretty extraordinary.
Anyone who wants to send a note or reflection can email me or drop a file or post in this Google drive folder. Like I said, feel free to share whatever and do it anonymously if you’d rather. You can also askbox me here (better than DMS) or submit a post to this blog. (I'm taking a chance with open DMs for now...we'll see if that needs to change.)
I am grateful for all of you every day, but especially today.
Love, Bex
p.s. The title of this post refers to the cinematic classic "Monty Python and the Holy Grail," a film my high school self and friends loved. They, along with other wonderful folks. gave me a "cancerversary" cake with "Not dead yet, motherfucker!" on it this Sunday. p.p.s. The average life expectancy for people who get this diagnosis is 18 months to 3 years. Hitting 5 years would be extraordinary. Starting Year 3 is a huge deal and I have every intention of being extraordinary. (Never been average at anything in my life...I either succeed spectacularly or fail epically!)
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ihatecoconut · 4 years ago
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Working it Out
Cross Posted to AO3
Phillip was staring out the window when she stepped into their room. He hadn’t even remembered to loosen his tie, which was odd because he hated wearing them and always removed them as soon as possible.
“Hey.”
He turned, smiling slightly when he saw her, “Hi.”
Martha stepped up behind him, hooked her chin over his shoulder and looked out to what he was staring at. Henry and Alex were in the courtyard, holding hands, Bea with them and they were all laughing.
“They look happy.”
Phillip nodded.
She pulled him away from the window gently, sitting them both down on the ornamental sofa which he had once told her was probably more decorative than functional, and took his hands in her own.
“What are you thinking?”
“They released their photos today.”
“Alex and Henry’s?”
He nodded, staring down at their joined hands.
“Hey,” she said, nudging his chin up so he was looking her in the eye, “I thought we were supporting them.”
“We are,” he replied almost instantly, “of course we are, I want Henry to be happy.”
Martha nodded, carefully, “So what’s the problem?”
“Have you seen them? The photos?”
She shook her head, “Why?”
Phillip glanced back towards the window. “They looked happy. Real. Like they were actually in love.”
“They are.”
“I know!” He cried, pulling away from her. “And so are we!”
“Pip, love,” she rose to stand in front of him, “I don’t understand.”
He sighed, dropping his head onto her shoulder and making a small noise when she ran her fingers through his hair. “Ours looked fake.”
“Our photos?”
She felt him nod.
“And you’re… jealous?”
He stiffened slightly, raising his head. “Yes. I suppose I am.”
“Is there something else?” she pushed gently, seeing his eyes stray back to the window again.
“He- Henry- he said he wanted to live his truth.”
“By being gay.” she prompted.
He nodded, absently, as if that wasn’t what he was trying to convey. “And Bea, too, she can be open now about her addictions.”
Something clicked in Martha’s head then, “Both of them are able to be themselves after being supressed.”
“I did that.” He said miserably. “I didn’t mean to, but I did that. And I don’t know how to fix it.”
“Do you want to be someone else?”
He paused, drawing away from her and walking over to the mantlepiece, “Will you always love me?” He asked, suddenly the quiet, shy boy she had first met who was mostly overshadowed by the prince.
“Always.” She replied. “Even if you tell me that you’re also gay, I’d be very heartbroken, but I’ll always support you and love you.”
He laughed slightly at that, “No, no, I’m not…” he frowned, turning serious again, “I don’t like children.”
“Alright.”
“And I don’t want to be a father.”
“We don’t have to have children.”
“But the monarchy-“
She stepped forward again, cupping his face in her hands, “You have two siblings and plenty of cousins. It doesn’t just fall on us.”
He nodded, not meeting her eyes, “I just feel like something will go wrong if we don’t.”
“Things could go wrong anyway.”
“I suppose. I wish I could talk to them.”
They had somehow managed to drift back to the window and were looking out again on Henry, Alex, and Bea. Catherine had joined them, and she hugged both her children and Alex fiercely.
Martha paused, “I might have a solution for that.”
*
“Family therapy?” Bea repeated, a little incredulously.
“Yes.” Phillip was standing opposite the three of them, Alex having been sent back to America, and desperately wishing he had brought Martha with him.
“Oh, so after all those years of…”
“I think it’s a great idea.” Catherine interrupted loudly, cutting off whatever angry rant Bea was building up to.
Phillip glanced over to his brother who had remained silent for the whole discussion, “Henry?”
Henry startled at the sound of his name, as if he hadn’t been expecting to be called on. “Uh, I agree with mum.”
“You do?” Bea asked.
He nodded, “I think we need this.”
“Need what?” Bea demanded, “some stranger digging around in our issues?”
“It’s more some stranger helping to solve our issues.” Phillip offered, shutting up when she sent him a glare.
“Well,” Catherine said, attempting to stave off an argument, “that’s three votes for yes. So, we’ll try it.”
“Were you going to invite gran?” Henry asked, glancing at Phillip and then away again. He still seemed incredibly awkward around Phillip, but then Phillip had a lot to answer for.
“No. I don’t think she would…”
There were general mumbles of agreement from the other three.
“Alright.” Catherine clapped her hands together, as if sealing the deal. “Pip, did you have any in mind, or would you like to look together?”
“Martha recommended a few, I thought you might like to look at.”
“Then we’ll look.” She smiled at him, proud of his planning and it hit him in the chest like a bullet.
*
“You think that was the first time she had smiled at you in a while?” the Doctor asked once they had finished recapping how they arrived at family therapy.
Phillip nodded, not meeting anyone’s eyes.
“Alright.” She made a few notes in the notebook she had brought.
Phillip used that moment to look around the room. They had managed to choose a therapist who was willing to come to them, so they didn’t have the security risk of them all leaving the palace together, and Catherine had volunteered one of her rooms to be used. She had called it a ‘neutral area’, but it just seemed like a reminder of what they had lost.
He hadn’t been in her rooms in years.
“Beatrice,” the Doctor continued, looking up,
“Just Bea, please.”
She tilted her head in acceptance, “Bea. Why did you have such a strong objection to this?”
Bea wriggled slightly. “I had to see therapists when I was in rehab.”
“Bad experience?”
“They just dug around in my head and kept asking questions about Dad that I didn’t want to answer, but they forced me to.”
The Doctor’s brow creased slightly. “That won’t be what this is like, you only have to share what you’re comfortable sharing,” she paused to glance around at them, “all of you.”
“Thank you.” Bea mumbled. “But I do think we should start with the death of your father.”
Phillip looked around at their reactions- Bea was steadfastly looking at a spot on the wall over the Doctor’s shoulder, Catherine was attempting to be open and make eye contact, but the effect was mitigated by the tension in her shoulders, and Henry was the only one of them who looked ready to sit through the session. Apparently having individual therapy helped as a preparation for family therapy.
He thought the Doctor might have drawn the same conclusions because she turned to Henry first, “How did you see everyone else’s reactions?”
“Mum pulled away,” he began, quiet but strong, “Phillip was on the other side of the world anyway, but he seemed to think he needed to take over, and Bea became addicted to cocaine.”
She nodded, “It was cancer, yes? So you knew it was coming?”
“That didn’t make it easier,” Catherine objected.
“No, not at all.” She paused, setting her pen down. “In some ways that actually makes it harder, the feeling that you could have saved him in some way or the feelings you get from watching him wither away are ones that you don’t get if people die in sudden and unexpected ways.”
Catherine relaxed back in her seat, frowning down at her hands, as if considering the Doctor’s words.
“So, Henry, you didn’t tell us how you reacted to your father’s death.”
Henry froze, obviously not expecting that question, “I saw everyone else’s reactions.”
“And you lived your own.”
“I guess I just pushed myself to be perfect.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “I’m seeing some similarities here in your reactions: both Catherine and Bea pulled away from reality while Phillip and Henry tried to control what they could.”
“I didn’t pull away!” Bea objected, “I was always there for Henry.”
“Except for the time that you forced him to track you down and talk you into going to rehab.” Phillip found himself firing back.
Bea paused, eyes wide, and then turned to Henry as if she had just had an enormous realisation. “I’m sorry.” She whispered, “I never thought…”
“That’s why we’re here.” The Doctor pointed out gently. “To think about each other.”
Bea nodded, but she was still watching Henry, unsure of his reaction. The Doctor let her for a few moments before moving on.
“You also said that Phillip seemed to think he needed to take over, Phillip do you think that’s an accurate perception?”
“Yes.”
They were obviously all waiting for him to say more, but the words were half forming inside his head and leaving again.
“Alright, why did you take over?”
He paused, remembering the days after his father had died, when their mother had pulled away and refused to leave her rooms and the Queen had dragged him into her position, filling his head with finances and rules.
“Gran said that Mum broke a rule.” He began hesitantly. “She married someone the crown did not approve of.”
He heard his mother’s slightly horrified gasp before she spoke.
“Are you saying she said his death was a punishment for breaking a rule?”
Phillip looked down at the carpet, willing the Doctor to ask another question or change the subject. She didn’t.
“Yes,” he heard himself reply, as if from a distance, “that’s what she implied, she said if I ever broke a rule, things like that would happen to me, and cancer can be genetic so I thought…” he trailed off, the words getting stuck in his throat, but Bea filled in the rest for him.
“You thought me or Henry would die if you stepped out.”
He risked looking up, expecting to be mocked for his stupid ideas, but all he saw was Henry, looking at him like he finally saw him through the façade he always put up.
“And you thought if we stepped out of line, something bad would happen too?” Bea asked, Phillip looked at her and saw the same understanding that had been in Henry’s eyes.
“And something did go wrong.” Henry said, quiet, hushed. “The emails.”
“I just wanted to protect you.” He found himself whispering back. “I’m sorry.”
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sneyrwrites · 5 years ago
Text
|| Homesick || Kuroo Tetsurou X Reader
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✘ Wordcount: 4,5k
✘ Genre: Angst, fluff. smut 
✘ Warnings: NSFW
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Author Note: What is it about my need to write angst lately? Anyway, Enjoy! (criticism is always welcome)
This started out as a 500 words drabble, but it got out of hand.
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Kuroo had no idea how he would get through this fucking course without breaking down at some point. The worksheets and load of work he had to pull through would get him a few early gray hairs, his psyche suffering tremendously, but oh well... that’s what college was about. 
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 The only thing he looked forward to was getting home, where you were probably waiting for him with a warm smile and a heart-melting “welcome”. Those were the time where he could feel all of his stress and negativity dissipate into thin air.
The sound of the lock opening brought a flutter in his stomach, him already anticipating the sweet relief of finding you there upon opening the door.
The cold and dark room was the only thing to receive him.
Oh, right... you were not there anymore.
You had left a long time now, exhausted by his constant neglect. Could he blame you though? Of course not.
If he was honest, in fact, he wouldn’t have put up with his sorry ass for half of the time you did. But seeing the empty shoe rack by the door, and the hangers stripped from that hideous scarf you insisted on wearing, he could not fight the tears that threatened to fall. What was he supposed to do now?
 The click of the switch brought light into his house, which he no longer called home. Kuroo ran a hand through his messier than usual hair, and sighing heavily he left his bag on the floor, not caring about his spilled books.
He didn’t feel like doing his project anymore, and talking to your mutual friends would only bring him more despair, as Bokuto seemed to only know how to talk about you.
The creaking of the mattress when he heavily fell on it used to bring him joy, because it was often accompanied by your soft giggle, followed by the usual “Tough day, huh?”
You had no idea.
You had no idea just how tough his days had been since you left, depriving his apartment from the spark it used to have.
It was unfair for him to feel this sour about the situation. Break-ups sucked, and he had every right to feel hurt about it, but he recognized his actions had lead to the outcome. You tear-streaked face would hunt him for eternity.
“I can’t handle this anymore Kuroo...” Your whispered words, so tiny and fragile, but so powerful at the same time, breaking his heart in a million pieces.
The words died in his mouth, so he just steeped aside, letting you go without even trying to make you stay.
All the I love you’s and promises he never got to make, all the late night snacks and pillow talks you would never share.
Now they were nothing but a wish, an illusion that dissipated into thin air.
The first week you were gone, he was resentful and shady over social media, like he was only a teenager who’s crush rejected. But, as Kenma had put it in simple words. He was just a sore loser.
You had tried your best, but the fights started to rise, In volume, in frequency, in anger. And they were about the stupidest things ever, like him not feeling like getting up on his sparse free moments to go out with you, him refusing to eat with you at the table. Once you were gone, he regretted letting all of his frustration and stress out on you.
Half of his helplessness came from a selfish place if he really thought about it. You were his mini vacation, his heaven on earth, and he had destroyed it, even noticing his mistake until it was too late and the sheets were cold, just like the half-finished cup of tea you had left at the counter, and he still didn’t have the courage to put away.
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Akaashi’s couch was soft and comfortable, hugging your body as if it was a cloud.
But it wasn’t Kuroo’s bed. The warmth the boy irradiated as he sleeps was missing. The way he would sometimes mumble nonsense or when his hand would reach for yours in the middle of the night, simply because.
Those were the things you missed the most. At those times at night you couldn’t help but think. Were you over reacting?
You knew he was stressed about school, maybe you shouldn’t have been as harsh, but thinking about letting him go over you like if you were nothing but the shoe mat in the front door, made a bitter taste settle in the back of your mouth and a resentment you never wanted to have towards him bloom.
If you didn’t walk away when you did you would have ended up hating him, or hating him in the tough moments at least, because when everything was going good, Kuroo made you feel like you were floating, and oh so loved.
But he tended to lock himself inside his head, submerging in a spiral of unhealthy habits of insomnia and a full gallon of caffeine to keep going. Shutting you out completely, brushing your attempts at spend time with him off.
Sighing, you rolled on the couch by the tenth time that hour, restless and sad. Akaashi’s apartment was pitch black. The only thing cutting through all the blackness was your phone, displaying a picture of you and Kuroo, smiling at the museum, in front of a painting of Marie Curie. That one was taken in summer vacations, when he still hadn’t started his courses and could spend some time with you while being awake.
Maybe it was unfair of you to disappear from his life out of nowhere, just picking everything up and running to hide behind your friend, not able to confront Kuroo and see his reaction at your abandonment for more than ten seconds.
You turned again, the blanket wrapped around your shoulders slipping to your waist. You didn’t even bother to readjust it.
“You know, I Can hear your sorrow all the way from my room.” Akaashi’s voice startled you, Looking up you noticed his silhouette in the living room entrance. Sighing, he uncrossed his arms and started towards the kitchen. “I’m going to make tea.”
Two heartbeats later, a steaming cup was in your hands, your friend sitting next to you, sipping his green tea in silence.
“Okay...” He said once he finished the cup, leaving it in the table. His voice calm and collected. “What is it? You obviously need to talk.” You kept silence, focusing on the pale color of your drink. It didn’t taste like Kuroo’s tea at all. This one was missing something... You sipped again, still unsure about speaking up about what was bothering you.
“ I know it’s about Kuroo, and I know you need help to figure your feeling out... But understand I Can’t help you if you don’t speak to me... I’ve been patient for the two weeks and a half you’ve been crashing in my couch.” He turned to you, resting his elbow in the back of it, his face supported by his hand. “Don’t get me wrong, i love having you here and all. But it’s obvious you don’t. Judging by the way you’re stabbing daggers at the tea...”
“Sorry, I just...” You didn’t know what to say. That you missed Tetsuro’s bed or his tea? That you could not get the way he sings in the shower to cheesy 80’s songs out of your head? Or the way your hand always felt empty without his in it? “I miss him...” That seemed to sum it up pretty well.
“I thought you couldn’t handle the relationship anymore...” He prompted
You shook your head, setting your still full cup in the table.
“I couldn’t... but I don’t know” You were bad at communicating, maybe that was one of the reasons you chose to escape rather than talk.
“Do you think you could have handle things different with him when it started getting rough?” Akaashi’s words were intense, just like the look he was giving you, his clever gaze analyzing up every single reaction you made.
Yeah, in fact, you thought about that.
Maybe that was why you were so restless, the guilt o knowing you could have done more for the two of you, but choose to do nothing weighted on your conscious
“You know, if you want to go back with him, that doesn’t make you any less strong (Y/N)... Sometimes we just don’t handle our emotions in the right way. And it seems to me that the both of you made a few mistakes... Maybe you should talk to Kuroo. Who knows? This time it could go better...” Akaashi got up and went to his room, throwing a “Try to rest” Over his shoulder.
What were you going to do? The shame of your actions overshadowed all logic and reason.
What if Kuroo told you to fuck off? He could hate you for all you knew.
You hadn’t made up your mind the next morning, still teetering on the edge to throwing your pride to the garbage and just beg him to take you back or just leave everything as it was. Time cured everything, right?
Coincidentally with this debate you were having between logic and feelings, your college sent you an email regarding a few missing papers you needed to hand over in the office. Bad -or good-thing was, you left that folder at Kuroo’s place thinking you wouldn’t need it anymore.
Seems like you would have to see him, you wanted it or not.
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Three knocks on his door woke Kuroo up that Saturday morning.
He considered the possibility of just not getting up, too tired by his restless nights to function properly, but by the time whoever was outside the door knocked again he was walking to the door, throwing a random hoodie that was lying around his naked torso to look somewhat presentable. He didn’t want to look like a perv in case it was his landlady, a sweet grandma that was always nice and used to bring you cookies from time to time. Kuroo remembered tenderly those times where the lady and you would spend hours in the corridor sharing recipes and exchanging goodies.
He missed those days.
Kuroo opened the door and froze in the middle of zipping the hoodie up.
Was he dreaming? It wouldn’t be the first time, Those weeks without you were a torture, and your memories usually haunted his dreams, you in the arms of someone else were a popular theme in his subconscious.
And now, you were there, right in front of him, close enough to extend his hand and brush the skin on your cheek. He was dumbfounded, not able to emit a word.
He thought you were no longer going to speak to him, sending Akaashi or Bokuto to pick up the remainder of your stuff.
“Um... Hi” You hesitated, trying to look at anything but his exposed mid drift, but failing completely. “Sorry to bother, but I forgot a few important papers the last time I was here.” you tried to say as nonchalantly as possible
“Oh... “ He said, stepping aside, letting you into the apartment you used to share. “Sure... Do you remember where it was?”
You took a step in and the rush of longing took you by surprised.
You missed that tiny and uncomfortable couch so much, and the horrible square pattern blanked Kuroo bought ant kept in the chair next to it. The curtains that would slap you in the face if the windows behind the sofa was open, everything there felt like home, and you knew you were the one to go away in the first place, but still.
Akaashi was right, you didn’t even try to talk to him before running away, too traumatized by past experiences to even try to make it work. Th tears choked you and threaten to fall.
It was too late. Asking to try again would be so selfish, after the mess you caused yourself.
“(Y/N)?” Tetsurō‘s gentle tone broke you out of your trance.
“Huh? Oh yeah, It’s probably in the bedroom...” Was it even appropriate for you to go inside his bedroom still? Kuroo must’ve noticed your hesitation because he signal with his hand for you to go first.. The flash of sadness in his eyes almost going unnoticed by you.
Everything was just as you left it inside the room. The same glass of water on the nightstand, your drawers only halfway closed cause you were in a rush when you left, afraid that you back out of your dumb and rushed plan to break up with him all of the sudden, thinking that way would be better, just like ripping a band-aid.
In the bookcase against the wall you spotted the red folder you came looking for. Once it was in your grasp, you really didn’t have an excuse to delay your exit from Kuroo’s house... that used to be your home, and that you wanted so bad to call it home once again.
Turning back to him, who was standing at the door you hugged the folder to your chest.
“So... this was it. Thank u Tets...” You noticed your mistake and tried to correct it “Kuroo... I better leave now.” You advanced towards the door, but his sulked figure blocked the way. “Kuroo?”
You looked up at him, and the tears in his hazel orbs stunned you. His lips trembled slightly and with a frustrated groan he rubbed his eyes harshly.
“Fuck!” He exclaimed, keeping them covered. A broken sigh shaking his shoulders, “I hate this... I hate it so much...”
Your heart clenched, and you regretted not sending Akaashi in your place. He obviously wasn’t okay with you there.
“Oh um... Sorry, I’ll just leave now.” You attempted to sidestep him to get out of the room, but in heart beat his long arms wrapped around you and pulled you into his chest.
The sobs of the boy you loved made his chest vibrate under your skin, and the pain he was feeling you could feel it too. You didn0t hesitate, and as if it was a second nature to you, you squeezed him harder, kissing the soft bare skin of his chest, as you felt your chest collapse into itself.
Could someone die from sadness and love at the same time? Because that was how you were feeling.
“I’m sorry... I know it’s too late and all... But I really am sorry...” He started, his words coming out strangled by the tears, but you shushed him as the tears slipped over your cheeks, leaving wet trails on them.
“Shh... I’m sorry too.” You chocked on a I love that you refused to let slip past your lips. He could be trying to move on, and this was just a minor setback, you would not be that selfish and just throw your feeling into him.
Still presses against his body, you sighed
You missed so badly the feeling of his arms around you, and the way your body fit into his in all the right places, his hands burying themselves in your hair as he brought you closer to him.
Kuroo Tetsurō was your home. The home you lost the key to, locking yourself out of it in a careless action.
“(Y/N)?... I’m sorry...” You opened your mouth to say it was okay when he spoke again. “I love you so much... and I’m so sorry I pushed you away...” The air was sucker punched out of your lungs. And now it was your body, the one being rocked by uncontrollable sobs.
You loved him too, but were too busy weeping to respond to his declaration.
Kuroo held you in his arms, while the both of you cried.
It was almost therapeutic, finally being able to apologize about his mistakes.
Something muffled came out of your mouth and he didn’t catch it, since the got lost against his skin, your warm breath tickling him.
“What baby?” He asked, and wanted to kick himself for it. He was not respecting your decision of separating with his actions and words, but he couldn’t help the overwhelming waves of emotions that watched over him.
“I want to come back home...” Kuroo stayed silent, processing what you just said. “I’m sorry for not trying to make us work Tetsu... But I miss you like crazy, and I was scared and I don’t know what I was thinking... I’m just so sorry...”
His response was simple. He hugged you closer, picking you up like he had done so many times in that same room.
He sat at the end of the bed, with you sitting on his lap, your head tucked in the crook of his neck while his hands caressed your scalp.
Once the sobs retreated, you lifted your head and looked at him in the eyes. Your eyelashes were shimmering with the remaining wetness the tears left behind, your nose was red as well as your cheeks.
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Your eyes scanned his face and Kuroo held his breath when you leaned in, your lips softly brushing his, almost as if you feared rejection.
He could never say no to you.
He applied a little more pressure and he finally tasted your lips again. God, how he missed the feeling of your lips against his. Your breath tickled his mouth each time you pulled away to take a breath in between kisses.
Kuroo’s hands went to your back as the kiss rose in intensity. Your hands grabbed his shoulders, your fingers pressing his arm.
Kuroo could feel his erection grow, pressing against his gym shorts, and he was sure you could feel it too by the way your face was getting hotter to the touch.
You readjusted on top of him, your hips straddling his, and the friction from the movement tore a moan from his throat. Embarrassed, he tried to kiss you again to hide his blush, but you pulled away and looked him dead serious in the eyes. He started to feel nervous and was about to apologize, when all of the sudden you moved again, grinding against him. He let out another whiny moan and an entertained glint flashed across your eyes.
Your fingers found the zipper of the hoodie, and the cold skin of your knuckles brushing him as you undid it, exposing his abs. You admired them for a second before kissing him again, breathing in his scent. Slipping the hoodie from his shoulders, a shiver traveled his spine when your fingers brushed the sensitive spot in his clavicle. And an amused smile twitched in the corner of your lips, as you brought your face down to meet your lips with his skin.
Your scorching mouth against his neck made his head spin, and when your teeth made an appearence, he could not help the clench of his stomach, the nibbles you left on his skin sending a tingling to his toes. He sucked in a sharp breath when to licked behind his ear all of the sudden, and the low chuckle on his ear snapped him out of the daze you had him in.
Grabbing your hip and back, he pressed you harder against him, and a gasp left your lips. Smiling smugly, he flipped both of you over.
Kuroo smile above you, as he teasingly trailed his fingers against your sides, until he came to a stop on the edges of your pants, looking at you once again to confirm you were still okay.
Your smirk was the only confirmation he needed.
He unbuttoned your jeans and he took them off, throwing the garment  somewhere behind him. His mouth came down to your lips once again as his hand slipped inside your underwear that was a dripping mess because of him.
Pride swelled his chest at the thought he was the one making you feel like this, craving his touch just as much as he craved yours.
When his fingers brushed your clit, a strangled moan came out of you, and oh how much he missed the sounds you made when he touched you like that.
He kissed you like there was no tomorrow, his mouth claiming yours, teeth pulling your lips and soft words whispered into them as his finger kept stimulating you, a fog settling over your mind.
“I love you so fucking much...” His mouth went to your chin, and kept going down, trailing your skin, an electric shock struck you from head to toe when he kissed that one spot in your hip he knew drove you crazy. “So fucking beautiful...” He praised.
He kept going down, his lips ghosting over your inner thighs and his breath brushing over your cunt and making you whine out his name.
“Kuroo...” You said. Your hand digging into his hair as your eyes flutter closed.
“What is it, baby?” He asked, and you could even hear the mock in his tone. You were going to respond, when his teeth nibbled the sensitive skin, careful not to hurt you.
Pulling aside your underwear, his mouth found your pulsating sex. And a shock wave of ecstasy filled your body. It didn’t take too long for him to have you at the edge, your toes curling and your hand clutching his hair. Heaving breaths rose your chest and with one last flick of Kuroo’s tongue an orgasm hit you full force, his name coming out of your lips.
“Tetsu...” A series of spasms rocked your body, and your legs clenching around his head, and Kuroo Chuckled at your reaction, amazed at the intensity of your pleasure.
Once you came out of your high, Kuroo settled next to you in bed, his erection still present and bothering him a little, but he was content with making you feel good. He needed nothing else. He could take care of his arousal later.
Rolling over you sat on top of him, leaning down you kissed his neck as you dragged your hands down his abs, feeling the smooth muscles underneath your fingertips, and you noticed just how much you had missed the intimacy you both shared. Your hands kept traveling until you found the elastic of his pants and pulled them down, brushing his swelling member as you pulled the garment down, stripping Kuroo of his last garment.
With his pants out of the way, you could feel the heat from his cock against your wet pussy. He helped you take out your shirt and kissed the exposed skin in between your breasts.
You rubbed on him once more, and the friction ignited the fire in your stomach. You circled Kuroo’s neck with your arms, and leaned you damped forehead on his chest, soft moans coming out of your mouth.
Lifting your hips slightly you aligned Kuroo’s dick with your entrance and in one swift motion you were filled to the rim with him.
“Shit (Y/n)!” He threw his head back, fingers digging at your hips, as you slowly adjusted to him. “God, I love you so much, I love you so fucking much baby...” Kuroo hissed. Kissing your temple, he then guided your hips up and down, feeling every inch of you tightening around him.
Your moans were shushed by his mouth, while your hips kept moving, feeling the way his member pushed at your walls, tightening the knot in the pit of your stomach.
Switching up the pace, Kuroo sat up and picked you up. Laying you on your back you admire the sight of him, his smooth skin and tall frame, his muscular legs and abs, his gentle hands, and his eyes that were so full of love.
You turned around, lifting your ass up and inviting him in. An almost animalistic growl left his throat at the sight.
“Please Tetsu...” You looked at him, with your eyes full of lust and a glint of mischief  in them. “I want you inside of me”
In less than a heartbeat he was inside of you once more, his hips colliding mercilessly with your ass, the lewd sounds of skin against skin mixed with the whimpers that involuntarily came out of your throat as he pounded your pussy like he wanted to.
“Fuck, I missed so much being inside of you.” He grunted, biting his lip.
Kuroo picked up his pace, and you reached for his hand. Intertwining your fingers, he kissed your knuckles, leaning to bite your neck playfully right after.
You could almost feel his abdomen twitching with the need to release his load inside of you. Your chest was flushed against the bed, as Kuroo’s rhythmic movements hit every right spot.
“Tetsu...” You whispered. “Please cum inside of me... I need you.” You begged, aching to be filled by him once more. Your words caused something on him, as if you had stepped on the gas .
The thrust of his hips got more intense and fast, hammering your pussy like it was the sole purpose of his existence. Your thoughts were jumbled and the only coherent thing on your mind was his name, so that all you said.
“Fuck” He moaned, his erratic pace almost matching the beating of your heart. “Oh god baby.... shit.”
With two last powerful you felt him filling you with his cum, releasing three weeks of frustration and desire.
Kuroo tried to pull out of you, but you prevented it, grabbing his wrist and pulling him down to rest on top of you, his bare and sweat covered chest against your back.
A content sigh left his lips and he kissed your shoulder, and your heart could have exploded right then and there.
“So... Now what?” He said, asking the question you were too afraid to voice.
You didn’t know how to precede. Did he wanted to try again? Or was this only a fling of the moment and nothing more?
“Hey.” He called your attention, shifting slightly so he could be lying half of his body on the mattress. You turned your head to him and came nose to nose with him. Kuroo placed a chaste kiss on your lips. “Quit over-thinking and be honest... I won’t get mad if this is really over and you regret this thing we just shared.” His face showed a vulnerability uncharacteristic of him and your heart clenched.
“What do you want?” You turned the question around, a nervous flutter in your stomach.
Without hesitation in his voice or in his eyes, he answered
“You.” He pecked your lips, pressing your foreheads together. You observed his beautiful eyes as he reassured you. “That’s all I ever wanted... You’re my home (Y/n), this house feels empty without you... My life feels empty if you’re not sharing it with me. So... what do you say baby, do you want to give us another chance?” He asked.
“I’m happy to be home Tetsu...”
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290 notes · View notes
the-scarecrxw · 4 years ago
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📓 :D
okay <3 I'm very fond of The Boys Retiring apparently but I have this one fic that I've just barely started but it's probably gonna be long.
So au Jeremiah going crazy plotline never happens. it's just chaos of chaos' sake. Rome still gets shot and is out of the picture for awhile. Jonathan and Jervis are up to no good until Jervis gets arrested (Jonathan very rudely does not give a fuck and doesn't help him) then like a week later Jerome emerges and together they cause chaos.
After a seemingly only Jerome attack on the gcpd (jim voice: that knockout gas hasn't been identified, tho. could be Crane.) Jim and Harvey are searching around the gcpd for any stragglers of Jerome's followers and such and whoops they check an alley and completely interrupt Jerome and Jonathan's post mission adrenaline rush bang and after some awkward back and forth (and Rome admitting he tossed his gun the moment he saw Jon) Jim is like "fuckin idiots. please cuff yourselves."
As they're leading them away Harvey makes a snide comment calling them freaks (bc Jerome made a joke about handcuffing Jonathan) and Jonathan does Not take it well and promptly elbows him and bolts, and Jerome quickly follows. Jim and Harvey take fire but the boys are able to duck out of the alley unscathed.
or so it seemed. Jerome looks back to not see Jonathan. He of course immediately turns back and oh god Jonathan is on the ground and there's blood and Jerome is panicking and getting angry because and Jim Fucking Gordon shot his boyfriend in the lung and hes probably dying.
this got long whoops one sec
Jim. feels very bad. he has very much so always felt bad about Jonathan. he always thought if he'd been quicker he could have saved him from his dad's serum. if he payed more attention to his case afterwards he wouldn't have gotten sent to Arkham. Abused there. Wouldn't have become Scarecrow. And now he just shot him. he's just a kid, really. barely 18.
Jim of course is like "okay, be mad later and help me stabilize him. get him on his side, put lots of pressure." in the bg Harvey is calling an ambulance and a patrol car to take Jerome to the precinct. Jerome very fiercely fights that he's not leaving Jonathan, who at this point is very out of it. So out of it that Jerome is very concerned and Jim is like "uhh yeah he's in shock because his lung just collapsed" and Jerome is like👌this close to strangling Jim but that would mean taking pressure off of Jonathan's wound.
Patrol car is there, ambulance another few minutes out. Officer switches places with Jim so he can take Jerome to the precinct [AND THIS IS WHERE I LEFT OFF WRITING SO FAR] but Jerome is still refusing but he eventually manages to pull him away (Harvey replaces him to apply pressure) While they're driving to the precinct Jim awkwardly tries to reassure him that Jonathan will be okay, the operation to help him rarely has complications. Jerome doesn't respond and Jim just... politely pretends he doesn't hear Jerome biting back sobs.
They keep Jerome in one of the interrogation rooms while Jim ya know washes all this blood off himself (Jerome is still covered in it) I haven't thought much about this portion of the fic, it's moreso time filler for until Jonathan gets out of surgery. Probably just gonna be Jerome refusing to talk to anyone until he can see Jonathan. Eventually Jim gets a call from Harvey that Jonathan is out of surgery, stable, and just waking from anesthesia so it would be the perfect time to interrogate him and Jim reluctantly agrees.
Jim, though, does have a heart and informs Jerome of the news and he immediately flips and demands to see him but Jim keeps refusing until Jerome yells "I'll stay in Arkham peacefully for the rest of my life if I can just get some time with him!" Jim reluctantly agrees (and helps clean him up bc they're not gonna bring him in covered in blood)
When they arrive Harvey has already been questioning him for a bit but it hasn't gone far bc Jon is still loopy and very good at avoiding questions. The moment he sees Jerome he tries to get out of bed except he's been quite literally strapped down to it so that doesn't go well. Harvey steps back and lets Jerome sit by Jon
We get very soft times from the pov of the awkward observers. Rome holds Jon's hand, occasionally strokes his face and hair and kisses his cheek while they're quietly talking and it's all very sweet and so incredibly uncharacteristic from what they're used to seeing from. well. maniacs.
As Jon really starts to get more lucid it's clear he's not comfortable being strapped down at all, he's constantly testing the straps and squirming and Jerome starts to unstrap him but Jim is quick to protest, saying he has to stay in bed and they can't risk him trying to escape while injured and Jerome snaps "he's not going to escape! he's going to stay and cooperate. He just doesn't like the straps. They did that to him in Arkham." Jim lets Jerome finish unstrapping him. they talk quietly some more for a bit before Harvey interrupts like "hey we really got to uh. talk and shit." and they both agree so the four of them sit there and after a moment of silence Jerome goes
"I'll agree to go to Arkham and stay if Jonathan can be pardoned. Blame it on temporary insanity-- something. Anything to keep him from going back there. He can function in society-- he can." Jonathan reluctantly nods and agrees
"Arkham tried giving me a medication. it quieted the Scarecrow. made it easier to ignore his suggestions and the urges he would give me. I refused to take them... But I'll take them now. If I can visit Jerome in Arkham."
Jim and Harvey of course initially protest but Rome and Jon make a really good argument. It's clear the arrangement was something they'd talked about before, but was still painful to enact. They clung to each other's hands, shaking. They didn't like the idea of being seperated. Being together kept them sane but Jerome refused to have Jonathan go back to Arkham. it had been a long argument and a lot of convincing before Jonathan agreed to the plan of Jerome going to Arkham alone.
So.... it happens. There's an actual trial this time (bc Negotiations) Jonathan is still too hurt to attend in person so lawyer in his stead and such. Jonathan watches the news with tears in his eyes in his hospital room as they get everything they planned. As Jerome gets carted off past a jeering crowd into an Arkham inmate transfer van.
I don't have much past this point. I imagine part of the deal has Jonathan being some sort of city/state ward for awhile? he's technically an adult but he'd been in basically prison since 15, so he has help getting set back up. I imagine a filler chapter of a Very Mundane Day of Jonathan's life.
Wakes up in his shitty little apartment. takes his morning meds. has a shitty poptart breakfast (he never really liked them until Jerome introduced him to the cookies and cream flavor) Goes to some classes (he's learning psychology...) where he pretends to be a normal person. Works after school (he's a library assistant.) Gets home and ponders if he needs glasses (glasses jonathan supremacy.) Has a shitty dinner while he emails his court ordered therapist that yes he is doing perfectly fine (that's a lie) no he doesn't need to see him this week, that panicked email in the middle of the night was absolutely nothing. Takes his night meds. Does homework or studies until he passes out. Rinse and Repeat until Saturday.
Saturday is his one good day. That's his Jerome day. His therapist notes an immediate uptick in his mood on Saturdays for approximately 4 days until it rapidly drops to concerning levels. Seeing Jerome sort of... Resets him. Cant quite say happy, how can you be happy when you can only see the love of your life your boyfriend for two hours once a week? For a long time they weren't allowed to touch, Jerome was handcuffed to the table. Now they hold hands his entire visit and sit close enough to whisper to each other softly, and they try to sneak kisses when the guard looks away for a moment.
Jerome's therapist notes his mood stabilizes on Fridays and lasts until Tuesday, in which he returns to the expected maniacal behavior.
....
okay I have more I want to write about this but I have to start getting ready for work so :( please enjoy this <3
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nothisis-ridiculous · 4 years ago
Text
Take Me Home Now: Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Thirteen: Teardrop In My Eye
Set after the events of ME3.
A rewrite. Ao3.
FemShepxKaidan
"Smith, you are being relieved of duty."
"Sir?" Jane stumbled, her smile turned downward.
The man laughed, clapping her on the shoulder, "only for the day, thought it would get you."
She sneered, "always an ass."
"Though," his green eyes sparkled, it was not settling, "you have company."
Fuck.
She pulled the elastic from her hair, attempting to pull her blonde locks from the day-long wear of a ponytail. In the end, it was pointless, she had thrown it up wet- a braid would have to hide the indent. Jane could do nothing for the simple hoodie and slacks she had thrown into her locker that morning. Forcing herself to take a seat, she pulled in slow breaths until her mind took heed. It was small potatoes.
Gingerly, she finished the jaunt outside of the Human Embassy and combination C-Sec building.
Evelyn slammed into her side, a good three inches added to the kid, "we're going to space!"
"We would have rang, but you know," Roy pointed to his wrist, his smile cautious.
Jane had avoided anything technology-related, she would have done it much earlier in her life if it were not for necessity. This was an old game, the response a sheepish smile. It was an act of avoidance. But she was trying to do the moving on thing: she had an apartment and a stable job. Sure, it was working as a guard for the relay that led to the Citadel, but it was moving in a direction she was comfortable... if not bored doing. It involved a lot of people watching, as using the relay was not the most sophisticated way to the station. The last person had fallen in drunk and almost drowned upon arrival. Now it functioned more as a memorial for all those lost in the war. She kept the peace and that was enough.
"Are you here to visit the Memorial?" Jane jabbed her finger toward the building, it would give her an excuse to spend some time with them. To clear the air.
Rahna suggested she may be ready.
"We're here to see you, silly!" Evelyn cooed, taking the woman's face in her hands, "you're a little less glowy."
"You're a little less short."
Evelyn returned with a moderately careful headbutt. Helen didn't look too approving as the child sauntered away but cracked a grin. Roy still couldn't manage a full smile.
Jane needed to clear another thing.
"What did you need me for?" she was careful, trying not to let the statement come out in a bark. These visits would always end in the same question, and it was getting harder to say no.
"We're hoping you'd watch our place while we are gone, " Helen finally chimed in, the stern look had softened over months. The strange silence between them never improved much, "we know it's sudden, but if we didn't have to go through Rahna to-"
"Helen," Roy soothed.
"We got it all approved, and we'd even pay you on top of it."
"I'm sure the beam won't miss you-" he paled at his words.
"I'm sure Harold won't miss you-" Roy tried to diffuse Jane's bubbling before it could erupt. The hand on her elbow gripped tighter as she tugged away. It devolved to his full strength pulling around her as she screamed, pleading that they didn't take the Reaper away. Bargaining became a barrage of hate and seething words, still, he held his recruit tightly until she collapsed.
If it was once, the guilt might have faded.
But Jane was stubborn, requiring steady arms until the derelict ship was nothing but an imprint in the ground. The woman didn't leave the crater left behind for the next day, her gaze avoiding him at all costs.
Jane looked up, if only to avoid the sudden turn of emotion, "I suppose it wouldn't."
When this is over, I'm going to be waiting for you. You'd better show up.
Don't get me wrong, I'm gonna fight like hell for the chance to hold you again.
"Is that a yes?"
His evident enthusiasm worked a giggle from the blonde, "it would probably do me good to get out of this city. I heard the English Bay is nice." Jane offered out a hand to him.
Roy swallowed her into a tight embrace, disregarding if the simple gesture was out of forgiveness or striking a deal. It had been far too long, and his recruit been left far too long without proper fatherly affection. Or he was giddy from good news, it was hard to tell.
"When do we need to leave?"
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Jane examined the scattering of personal items in the apartment. Living light on military ships (excepting pets) followed her through to civilian life. Everything she owned could fit into a footlocker without fancy folding. A knife for whittling if she got bored. Shower supplies, her underwhelming supply of clothing, the M-77 because why not. But her eyes stopped on her bedside.
A blank picture frame and the chit to an omnitool would be innocuous to anyone else. It was everything in the world she refused to touch but couldn't look away from. Was it love for her own misery? Or owning up to herself. That other person knocked. She wasn't ready. Couldn't she be ready?
Her fingers graced over the chit, watching it light and unfold. The device would only unlock for an authorized user, and somehow she was that user. Anderson's face popped in on the screen. The panicked expression was no longer a surprise as he searched for something out of shot from the recording, but his eyes eventually returned to the device.
"Shepard, I-"
Jane cut it off, the device flickering away as quickly as it formed. It was two words further than the last attempt. It would have to count as progress.
The picture frame came next, but not even a jolt of power betrayed a change. It was empty, devoid. Still, as if it was familiar, her thumb caressed over the glass surface.
"Kaidan, I-"
Jane's throat seized, the name was still hard to form, "eight hundred and fifty-one days. Tomorrow will mark eight hundred and fifty-two days."
She had long surpassed the days he had in waiting for her not to be dead. She had kept her promise. She had waited, was waiting. Now, Jane had to go. The landlord given notice, her job with a note of apology attached to a resignation letter. Jane felt afraid.
"I'm sorry."
The picture flickered to life, the bubbling of the tank behind her a dull murmur. It took a few rounds, but she settled into the chair, staring at the frame like it was supposed to do something. Her ear tilted for the door, hoping that it would slide open. Wasn't that how the time before a suicide mission was supposed to go? A last-minute confession, sex to blow off some steam before the genuine threat of death.
Mary was waiting, nor would she question the miracle that would have to bring him here.
"Shepard, I could patch you through," Edi chimed in gently.
Slow breathing, counting, clenching her jaw and releasing it kept her busy for five minutes before she let herself consider it. It was her way to leave him on unread, but is that how she wanted to go out again? Was that immaturity the memory she wanted to leave for Kaidan? In the same thought, a call wasn't mature either, but if she died the shame would be short-lived after all. She wanted nothing more than to hear his voice, to feel something akin to comfort. Mary was afraid.
"Edi, send the c-"
Her tool blipped, "I've already programmed a block."
"Thank you, Edi."
Mary fawned over the code, re-entering it several times until she felt a little less panicked. The first attempt ended a few counts after the tool attempted the connection. She shouldn't. What could her greed jeopardize?
She settled back in her chair, sending herself through another wave of madness. The email running through her mind again. She didn't want that to be the last thing she heard from him. Besides, what was he to Cerberus if she was gone? Her greed entered the number again, this time it patched through. Connecting, connecting, connecting until it timed out.
Mary held back on questioning Edi.
She waited again, promising herself this would be the last try. 'Connection' scrawled on the screen within seconds.
"Hello?"
Kaidan's voice was groggy, his rasp evident that he had just woken wherever he was.
"Hello?" he tried again, with mild frustration.
"Look, this is a secured-," he spat, but his voice dropped, "if this isn't- if this- dammit."
The voice waited, but Mary was frozen. She hadn't planned a word, this was a terrible idea. Stupid.
"This is a little insane," he let out a small chuckle, "and will look bad if this just ends up on the extranet. But, just in case," he paused again, pulling in a steadying breath, "if it's what, who, I think it is. Really, the Omega 4 relay? I-I thought Ilos was bad, that is a whole new level of-"
Kaidan cut himself off, waiting, questioning if he should continue. But it made a strange kind of sense. Who else could it be? She wouldn't call unless it were dire.
"Whatever you are doing, be careful. The galaxy needs you back, I ne- just, be careful."
Both parties lulling to sleep at the memory.
Jane set the frame down, it could be a gift for the next tenant. Perhaps they could program it with something/ The chit slipped into her pocket, her gaze winding to the door. She waited, shook her head, and swept up the handles of the black footlocker. Again, Jane stared at the door. Praying for a miracle.
The rigors of hauling the footlocker at a clipped pace down several flights of stairs did nothing to stop the shaking. Echoes of footsteps turned into the voices of her crew, the bad, the ugly, and all of the good memories. Garrus's mandible quivering in silent frustration as she made the shot atop the presidium, Tali's indignation at the 'induction port' as she tried to slip it into her suit. Liara always deep in thought, scanning over the work of the Shadow Broker, Javik who never got his wish of dying with the rest of his kind. Vega's shock as she decimated his pull-up record, and Edi taking up Joker's hand in a quiet moment. Tears splattered on the steps. Was this the end?
She couldn't stop them as she stepped into the light of day, awaited by three figures.
"That's all?" Roy huffed, taking the luggage from her.
Helen placed a hand on her shoulder, "it will get easier."
The older woman forced Jane to look her in the eyes, dark brown meeting blue, "you should make the call."
"But you-"
"You know Roy won't let it go until you're all settled."
The LT was always worried about her, even if they weren't on speaking terms. Jane knew all she had to do was reach out, but the pang of guilt was too much. It was always this way, and her soul grew tired of the mind that housed it.
This was a horrible way to treat the family that kept coming back for her months after they had returned home to Vancouver. They kept worrying when she struggled to care about herself. They kept asking her to return home with them, to give her a new life. They hadn't stopped loving her after every no, despite her asinine rigidity to an old promise. Despite the lingering secrets she barely kept from them. Jane was sick of herself, too.
Jane nodded, pulling in a deep breath.
"It will get better," Helen murmured, "after you've taken the time to be pissed off for a while."
She didn't fight a grin, nodding again just to make sure she was assured. Leaving the woman to enter the room her fingers didn't hesitate this time. Entering the code she had memorized too long ago.
Three calls later- silence was her answer.
Unable to save face, Jane stormed past Helen.
"I'm sorry for how I left last time," her head hung, but this time she returned the touch, briefly touching the hand on her shoulder.
The older woman shrugged, pointing her at the shuttle.
Jane nodded, wasting no further time by sliding into the back. Evelyn chattered into her ear; Jane tried to keep paying attention but found her mind wandering. The familiar stirring of her stomach starting within moments of take-off. She had grown a little used to a hardsuit that would deliver the meds into her system.
The paper bag landed in her hands without a word.
The vehicle fell silent, save for the buzzing of the radio-
"The Normandy returns to the Citadel after a Victory run spanning over-"
"The Normandy is back?" Jane bleated meekly through the bag.
"Oh- yeah! Our son made it," Roy smiled, but it was partially forced, "sounds like this 'Shepard' wasn't so lucky."
Jane's stomach emptied into the bag, Happy Birthday Shepard.
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fosterthoughts · 4 years ago
Text
So, we are moving. For a long time we didn’t know where we would go (D’s contract ended this spring so we knew we were going somewhere), then we knew where but not what we’d do. It’s a very my-family-typical chaotic event. But for the past couple of months I have been *really* trying to be as organized and prepared as possible (while taking care of pets, helping Pip with virtual school, and take care of the Ladybug who must always be in my arms). I’ve been getting rid of tons of stuff, packing anything we could, making plans, etc. Not surprisingly it has been less than successful.
Some of the hurdles we have (so far) encountered:
-D’s contract was scheduled to end two days after the end of our apartment lease. The landlord refused to give us an extra two days, so we’ve had to plan to move separately. Me with the kids, pets, and his parents helping one day; then he will come a few days later.
-We were planning to donate our couch and loveseat before the move, but the day before the movers were scheduled to arrive, the pickup arrangements fell through. After lots of online searches and phone calls I am very well versed in the various local charities that will pick up furniture in the time of Covid. (Hint: it’s not many.) I ended up finding a random family in need on Facebook who was able to come before D had to leave town. D had to carry the couch out of our apartment and tie it to the roof of their car. I trust they made it home with it??
-The cat got out (we got him back).
-Pip and I made cookies for our church friends and then forgot to deliver them.
-and the big one:
The movers were scheduled to pick up our stuff on the 28th and deliver on the 1st. They were also supposed to call us 24-48 hours in advance to confirm an arrival window of time. The 27th came and went, with me calling and emailing all the contact info I could find - no one answered, and only one number had a functional voicemail. Let’s just say I was very “curious” to know when they’d arrive, sending increasingly strongly-worded messages to the moving company. That night they called to say they’d be there to pick up our stuff on the 29th at 2 or something. I was set to leave the morning of the 29th, the day *after* they were supposed to have come, so that we’d have a chance to clean an empty apartment. But nevermind. We scrapped that plan and left D to handle the movers, the couch pickup, and cleaning.
We all (minus D) drove down on the 29th, and learned that Ladybug really REALLY does not like to ride in the car. At all. We had to stop often because she was so inconsolable. The only things that occasionally helped while we drove were when we sang to her (I think my MIL and I should to start a band) and Pip animatedly chatting to her. Also it rained nearly the whole way, and for a good bit we couldn’t really see where the lines or edges of the road were. All in all it took an extra four hours to drive.
Finally we got to my parents’ house - our more-than-halfway stopping point. We planned to stay the night, have a day off, then drive meet the movers the next morning at our new house. The movers were supposed to call to confirm the delivery time 24-48 hours in advance. So I waited for a call. And waited. And then called all the numbers (no working voicemails). And emailed. And waited. And called again, and actually spoke with a person (“Jessica P.”) who said she would find out and call me back “momentarily”. She never called back, nor did she answer the phone when I tried her several times.
We assumed that meant the movers wouldn’t be arriving the next day (today) so this morning I started making all the calls and emails again. And again. And again.
Then finally Jessica P. answered and I gave her the same spiel, mainly just that we wanted to know when we needed to show up to meet the movers (we still have a few states to cross to get there.) She then told me that we weren’t in the system and I probably had the wrong company. I was gave her the benefit of the doubt “maybe you have it under my husband’s number”. Nope. Also not our names or addresses. At this point I said, okay. You are Jessica P., correct? YOU were the person I spoke with yesterday, and here is exactly how our conversation went when you said you’d call back. Also I have the emails you sent me and I’d be happy to reply to those right now so you’ll have all the info right on hand. And suddenly our account just “popped up.” She (presumably) looked at it for a second, then said she’d find out and would call me back. I stopped her right there. By when do you expect to call me back? How long will you be in the office today? She said she would call me back whether or not she had any information before she left the office at 4. So I said thanks, hung up, and set an alarm for 3:56. Obviously she didn’t call back, so at 3:57 I called her. I reminded her of who I was and that she had promised to call before she left the office at 4, and could she tell me what she knows (she’s getting annoyed now). She said, “well I don’t know but obviously I’m still here in the office, aren’t I?” She said, “I have to work late but I *promise* to call you before I leave today.” She then told me that legally the company has a 2 to 14 day window to deliver our stuff so it could really be anytime.
WTF
Two to FOURTEEN days? This is not an overseas move. And our stuff filled up their truck - they can’t make other pickups or deliveries in the meantime. Did they switch to horse drawn carriage? What is happening??
D, my dad, and I had all read through the fine print before we booked the company, and it seemed okay. After this call my dad and I went through it again. Finally I found out the delivery “window” clause: there was a link in the fine print of an addendum to an email they sent me in the initial agreement. I clicked the link and it took me to a pdf with more general info ending with more fine print at the end. It was in one of those clauses. I think.
Anyway. Anybody want to guess if Jessica P. called me back today?
We should be completing our move sometime in the next two to fourteen days.
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astraeal · 4 years ago
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flipmeforward · 5 years ago
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mrs. poindexter (dex/nursey, pg-13)
WARNING: contains marriage proposal. the whole thing is soft af. inspired by this post on instagram. link to ao3.
Derek doesn’t see the actual invite until the night before the event. When he does see it, he’s pretty sure Dex has kept it away from him for fear of him going all Shitty on the institution that is Dex’s new employer, and okay, that’s fair, but it also makes him sort of ... nervous?
“How fancy is this thing?” Derek asks on Monday night. They’re on the couch, as usual, Dex is flipping through TED talks and Derek is laying down with his head in Dex’s lap, reading a book that’s turning out to be increasingly boring and badly written. Dex has one hand tangled in Derek’s hair, absentmindedly scratching his scalp. Derek’s thoughts are drifting.
“Hm?” Dex says.
“This thing on Saturday. How fancy is it? Like, what’s the dress code?”
Dex had told him a few weeks ago that they’d been invited to a function at the university, that they were both free according to their calendars, and that he’d intended to RSVP yes, unless Derek had any objections? Which Derek didn’t. Dex’s had his doctorate for a couple of years now, they’ve attended a fair amount of academic functions and events, Derek is used to them. This is their first one at Columbia, though, so he wants to make sure they follow proper etiquette, to not draw even more attention to the fact that they’re two men. It shouldn’t be an issue, but like, better safe than sorry, in this case.
“Black tie, I guess?” Dex says, frowning down at him. “Why?”
“Yeah, but is it like, strict black tie, don’t even think about wearing pink socks, or is it like, creative black tie?” Derek very much hopes it’s the latter, because Dex looks so good with the forest green tie.
“Babe, I don’t know.”
“Can you check? I just need to know if I need to, like, cut my hair.” He’s growing it out, and it’s already long enough to put in a ponytail.
Dex’s grip on his hair hardens. “Don’t you dare,” a warning in his voice. Derek smirks up at him.
“Chill. I won’t. But just--”
“Yeah, I’ll check.”
Derek is satisfied with that, and returns to his book.
*
On Friday, the night before, Dex has his D&D night, so Derek does his goodnight sweep of the apartment alone; checks that all the windows are closed and locked, all the lights are turned off. He hesitates in the doorway of the office/library/guest/glorified storage room. Dex is not a neat freak by any means, but he does keep his desk immaculate, so when there’s an envelope on it, it’s pretty hard to miss. It looks fancy.
Derek picks it up, and it’s not until his second read that he even catches it.
Dr. and Mrs. William Poindexter
It’s a mistake, Derek knows it, it’s a sloppy copy paste error because they’ve used the same template a million times, but it is also sort of rude. They’re not even married (yet), so the whole thing just feels awfully presumptuous, and Derek understands why this particular invite hasn’t been tacked to the fridge like usual. They will get married. Probably. There’s just been--Dex’s PhD, Derek’s teaching certificate, Derek trying to properly get control over his anxieties, time has just ... passed. But Derek at least lives with the assumption that they will get married. One day.
He puts the envelope back, goes to bed, and doesn’t say anything about it when Dex gets home and crawls into bed next to him.
*
Luckily, the dress code is more creative than formal, and Derek would be ashamed of how much he stares at Dex if he wasn’t so incredibly handsome.
“You have to stop,” Dex mutters under his breath the fifth time he catches Derek staring at him in as many minutes.
“Why? I’m your wife, I’m allowed,” Derek says with a smirk. Dex starts rolling his eyes but stops halfway through the motion and stares sharply at Derek.
“What?”
“You left the invitation on your desk,” Derek says and presses a light kiss to Dex’s cheek, a reassuring I’m not mad about this and won’t make a scene gesture.
“I corrected them when I RSVP’d, and they apologized,” Dex says anyway, eyeing Derek sort of warily.
“Good. Oh, can I read the email? Would Shitty be proud of it?”
“Shitty would be embarrassed about how polite I was, but Shitty isn’t in a queer relationship and doing his first six months at Columbia, so I don’t really care.”
Derek grins at him. “I love you,” he says, aware that he’s probably looking like a lovesick puppy.
“You’re ridiculous,” Dex replies, but gives him a kiss. “Come on, I want you to meet the guys I work with,” he says and takes Derek’s hand and starts guiding him through the room.
“You gonna introduce me as your wife?”
“Yes, because that would make perfect sense after talking about my boyfriend for the past two months,” Dex agrees, rolling his eyes again.
“Oh, so you talk about your boyfriend at work, but not your wife? Rude,” Derek says, just as they arrive in front of a group of people who seem to know Dex. They get a couple of raised eyebrows, and Dex glares at him.
“Derek, these are my coworkers. Guys, this is Derek, the idiot I’m dating.”
“Dating, William, really?” Derek scoffs. “We’ve been living together for ten years, and you haven’t taken me out on a date since my birthday, which was in February. That hardly classifies as dating. Hi,” he adds, addressing the group with a smile.
Dex shakes his head in exasperation, but lets it go. Derek squeezes his hand in thanks.
*
“I wouldn’t mind, you know,” Derek mumbles sleepily when they’re seated on the subway home, hours later. He’s a bit buzzed on wine and champagne, but he’s not drunk. He wants to rest his head on Dex’s shoulder but he’s too tall for that to actually be comfortable, so he settles for leaning close, probably preens a little when Dex slides an arm around his waist.
“Wouldn’t mind what?” Dex asks.
“Being your wife,” Derek says. He feels Dex go completely still against him, and when he turns to look at him, all the leftover amusement from the champagne buzz has left him and he’s staring at Derek with a Very Serious face.
“What?” Dex says, and Derek can’t tell if he’s just confused or if he’s also mad. Derek is wide awake now, at least. He opens his mouth to say something, but he can’t figure out what.
“What?” he settles on, echoing it back.
“I--Derek, are you proposing, on the subway, using the words I wouldn’t mind?”
Derek is about to protest, but then he thinks back, and realizes that he may, in fact, have been proposing. Sort of.
“No?” he tries, anyway. Dex’s only response is a single raised eyebrow. Okay. “But also kind of yes? Sorry?”
Dex sighs, puts his other arm around Derek as well and hugs him, tight. “You’re a fucking idiot,” he says.
“That’s not an answer,” Derek observes. He’s not too worried, though. The situation doesn’t feel like a No.
“You technically didn’t ask a question,” Dex says. He lets Derek go and settles back, one arm still around Derek’s waist. “And besides, if I don’t answer, we can pretend this didn’t happen, and you can get a do-over. I refuse to have C chirp me for this for the rest of our lives.”
“C has zero chirping rights when it comes to proposals,” Derek says indignantly. “He didn’t even propose, Cait found the ring in his fucking sock drawer!”
“Do you even have a ring?” Dex counters, which shuts Derek up, but that’s also partly because they’ve reached their stop and need to get off.
Neither of them says anything until they’re up on the street. It’s cold, and Derek forgot his gloves, so he puts one hand in his coat pocket and grabs Dex’s hand with the other.
“Will,” Derek says after a few seconds, which makes Dex stop. Derek is suddenly extremely nervous, even though he knows, with every logical bone in his brain (whatever), that he has nothing to worry about. “When I get a ring, and ask you for real ... are you gonna say yes?”
Dex tugs him so close that their chests are touching. With the hand not holding Derek’s, he cups his cheek and kisses him, sweetly. “Yes, Derek,” he says, softly, privately. “I’m gonna say yes.”
fin~
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highkey-lowkey-as-hell · 4 years ago
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Watt martian au? Tell me more
!!!!! okay SO
so it was very very important to me that the finale squad be the ares 3 crew because i just needed that to be a thing so
lewis - cairo
martinez - reese
vogel - annleigh
beck - kate
johanssen - eva
watney - mattie
so mattie is, unfortunately, the one who gets stranded on mars
and then for the other four
mitch henderson - riley
venkat kapoor - chess
annie montrose - farrah
mindy park - clark
SO
cairo is the commander of the ares 3 mission, and she's also the geologist
reese pilots the mdv (how they get from the hermes down to mars), the mav (how they get from mars back to the hermes), and i think the hermes (which is the ship that takes them to and from mars, it's really big and expensive so there's only one that's used for the entire ares program)
annleigh is the chemist and astrodynamicist
eva is the computer expert
kate is the flight surgeon and eva specialist (eva stands for extra-vehicular activity, or anything done outside of an earth atmosphere)
mattie is the botanist and engineer
riley is the head of astronaut corps
chess is the manager of the entire ares program
farrah is in charge of nasa's pr
clark works in satellite imaging and he's the one who figures out that mattie is alive
(also they refer to the astronauts with their last names because nasa so technically i should be saying adekoya, roberts, o'daniel, sanchez, dalton, and wheeler, but no♥️)
the mission i think was around 200 days to mars, and then reese piloted the mdv down to the surface, where all their stuff for the mission was there in advance. in the first few days, they set up the hab (base of operations, where they live, etc), the solar panels, and checked out the mav - the ship that was sent in advance and would bring them back to hermes
on sol (mars days are called sols and they're about forty minutes longer than earth days) 6, the mission was hit with a huge sandstorm - the mission was designed to withstand up to 150 km per hour winds, and the storm was 175 km per hour, so yeah, that was very very BAD. the problem wasn't whether the hab would pop - the problem was that the mav couldn't stand up to that much wind for that long. so houston gave the order to abort and they all suited up and went out in the storm to try and get to the mav. halfway there, mattie was struck by debris (the satellite dish) and the antenna went right through her bio-monitor, showing all her vitals as 0. cairo refused to stop looking, but the mav began to tip and she had to get back, and they left for the hermes, believing mattie to be dead.
SURPRISE!! mattie is not, in fact, dead!
the antenna also ripped a hole in her, but the angle at which she landed and also the blood created a weak seal, so her suit was okay. she stayed passed out while the co2 filters were expended, the suit backfilled with nitrogen, and then eventually the oxygen alarm went off because the suit had to backfill with pure oxygen, and the concentration was about 85% which is very bad. she got up, got back to the hab, fixed her wound, and began to figure out what the fuck to do.
the primary comm system was in the satellite dish, which, as mentioned, definitely wasn't functional. the secondary and tertiary comm systems were in the mav, which the rest of the crew took up to the hermes, so clearly those were gone too, so mattie has no way to get in contact with earth or hermes. and in the case of an abort, hermes would only stay in orbit for 24 hours, so by the time mattie could fix the satellite, they'd be long gone.
the surface mission was only for 31 sols, but for redundancy, nasa sent 56 sols worth of food. since they got 6 sols into their mission, mattie has 50 sols of food for 6 people. since she's only one person, she has 300 sols of food, which if she rationed it, would stretch to 400 sols. except she has four years before ares 4 is supposed to launch, and 400 sols of food won't reach there. but!
the surface mission was during thanksgiving, so nasa's psychologists were like "hey, maybe they should cook a meal together for bonding" and so mattie has twelve non freeze dried potatoes. and! she's a BOTANIST! and because of that, she has some stuff for plant experiments - some earth soil! the only problem with mars soil is that it doesn't have the bacteria that is needed for plants, but mattie can mix her soil with mars soil in the hab and have enough to farm a bunch of potatoes. potatoes plus vitamins can help stretch her food supply!
so she grows potatoes. except water is a problem. so she figures she can make water using liquid oxygen, and then gets hydrogen from leftover hydrazine fuel, by running the hydrazine over an iridium catalyst and separating the nitrogen and hydrogen, and then burning the hydrogen and oxygen to make water. except she miscalculated and accidentally filled the hab with hydrogen and made a bomb. so she burned the hydrogen off little by little, forgot to calculate the oxygen she was breathing, blew herself up, and then tried again and eventually fixed her hydrogen problem. so after a lot of effort, she had a way to make water for the potatoes.
the whole time, she's been bored as hell because she left her own entertainment usb stick on the hermes, to focus on the mission, but now she's super bored, so she rifles through the other crewmembers' stuff and finds medical journals in kate's stuff (nerd), nothing in reese's stuff, annleigh's stuff is in german, agatha christie novels in eva's stuff, and disco music and 70s tv in cairo's stuff. so she's losing her mind listening to SO MUCH DISCO.
back on earth, chess is begging the director of nasa, teddy sanders, for some satellite time to take pictures of the ares 3 site, because she figures that since they aborted so early, there's still almost an entire mission up there and she might be able to get funding for an ares 6 mission, she just needs pictures of what the site looks like and the damage from the storm. teddy keeps denying the request because nasa is a public domain organization and has to release all the photos they take within 24 hours, and teddy doesn't want astronaut wheeler's body on the front page of every newspaper in america. eventually, chess convinces him to give her the satellite time, and clark is assigned to take her pictures. when he does, he notices that the solar panels are clean, one of the rovers has been moved, the mdv has been disassembled (mattie needed the hydrazine), and he can't find mattie's body. so he calls chess and they realize shit, mattie is alive. farrah, being the pr manager, is tasked with telling the world that mattie wheeler is alive, which is a disaster, and they work on getting in contact with mattie. riley says "shit, we have to tell the crew" but teddy and chess veto it, because the crew still has ten months of space travel ahead of them, and they need to focus on their mission. riley is pissed, but there's nothing she can do.
in the meantime, mattie figures that in four years, she needs to be at the schiaparelli crater, where ares 4 will land, which is really far away from acidalia planetia, where ares 3 is. so she needs to drive like 3400 kilometers to schiaparelli. as a test, she modifies the rover and spends three weeks driving 1500 kilometers to the site of pathfinder, a 1996 probe that nasa lost contact with in 1997. she gets pathfinder, brings it back to the hab, gets it working, and nasa realizes what she's doing and sets up the old pathfinder computers. mattie hacks the rover, and BAM, she can talk to nasa!
since she has her potatoes, that stretches her food supply a bunch, which gives nasa time to hopefully build a probe to send her supplies to help her last until ares 4 arrives. now that there's a viable rescue plan, riley is cleared to tell the crew.
back on the hermes, eva just got the data dump and she's dispatching personal emails to everyone's laptops when she notices a video file for all of them, and cairo calls the whole crew to come watch. it's riley, saying that mattie is alive and they're going to try to rescue her. mattie stresses that it wasn't the crew's fault every time it comes up. annleigh, reese, kate, and eva are all thrilled that mattie is alive, but cairo is devastated that they left her behind.
mattie has been using airlock 1 every time she leaves the hab, just because that's the one she uses, but the constant use has put a lot of wear and tear on the seams and one day, it's too much and as she's in the airlock, the hab pops, blasting her about 100 meters away, still in the airlock. her faceplate gets cracked, and after 24 hours in the airlock, she manages to fix it, but it's super leaky and it'll only last 4 minutes. so she rolls the airlock back to the hab, goes back in, manages to have just enough time to grab reese's suit's helmet and patch kit, and then escapes to the rover. she gets back in contact with nasa, says she's okay, and fixes the hab, but being exposed to mars's atmosphere killed all her crops, shortening her food supply significantly. so the probe nasa is going to send needs to be a whole lot faster.
nasa builds iris in about 46 days, but they have to cancel inspections to save some time, and the launch fails, and they don't have another booster, so mattie is totally fucked.
nasa's psychologists have mattie write emails to each member of her crew, just in case she doesn't make it, which is becoming more and more likely. the emails (summarized):
to reese: if i die, you need to be the one to talk to my parents. they'll wanna hear about mars. it won't be easy, i know, but i'm asking you to do it, because you're my best friend.
to eva: you're a nerd. seriously, i had to do so much computer stuff to connect pathfinder to the rover and how the hell can you stand it oh my god, you're such a nerd.
to annleigh: chemistry is boring, i hate it. also you are a chemist with a base on mars, you're some sort of mad scientist supervillain.
to kate: okay so i don't have to follow mission rules anymore so: dude... you gotta tell eva how you feel or you'll regret it.
to cairo: it wasn't your fault, okay? you did the right thing, you saved everybody else. don't blame yourself. also why the FUCK do you like disco so goddamn much???????
so it turns out that china actually has a booster that isn't public knowledge, so if nasa could build another probe, china could supply the booster. they agree to it, in exchange that the ares 5 crew will have a chinese astronaut. an astrodynamicist named rich purnell realizes that it would be so much more likely to succeed if they sent the hermes back to mars, so he plots a course that could have china's booster, the taiyang shen, resupply the hermes, and then the hermes would go back to mars, do a flyby, and mattie would meet them in space using the ares 4 mav. the problem is there's only one booster, so they can either build iris 2, which has a high chance of killing one person, or do the rich purnell maneuver, which has a low chance of killing six people. teddy decides to go with iris 2, but riley is furious and disagrees and secretly sends the ares 3 crew the instructions for the rich purnell maneuver.
on the ship, annleigh has a personal email from her family that has a jpeg attachment she can't get open, so she goes and finds eva, who realizes it isn't a jpeg, it's a plain ascii file. annleigh recognizes it as a maneuver for the hermes and explains it to the whole crew. cairo says that if they were to do this, which is something that nasa expressly rejected, it would be mutiny, so it isn't her decision to make. they all have to unanimously agree. obviously, all of them immediately agree to go back and save mattie.
riley gets in trouble with teddy for sending the maneuver, but she has no regrets.
nasa tells mattie the plan for the flyby, and she's cool with it - after all, she already had a plan to drive to schiaparelli eventually.
nasa launches the taiyang shen, and it goes perfectly, resupplying the hermes as expected.
back on mars, mattie is modifying the rovers for the trip to schiaparelli. part of this involves drilling a hole in the roof of rover 1, so that she can fit the life support machines she needs in it during the trip. she accidentally leans the drill against a table, and accidentally sends 9000 milliamps through pathfinder's system, which is designed for 100 milliamps, and totally fries it so she can't talk to nasa anymore, which is bad. she decides to proceed with the plan as intended, and once she gets to the ares 4 mav, she'll be able to talk to nasa again.
back on the hermes, reese complains that the cooling system by her room isn't working, and it's basically trying to cook her every night. mattie's room next to hers has the exact same problem. so she's been sleeping in airlock 2, but that's very dangerous for very obvious reasons. so cairo says "okay, you can sleep in kate's room, and kate can sleep with eva." kate apparently took mattie's email to heart, and they've been trying to be subtle, but it's a pretty small ship and everyone knows they're together. cairo says she doesn't care, since this is already a pretty crazy mission, as long as it doesn't mess with their duties.
back on mars, mattie begins her 100 sol drive to schiaparelli. the problem: there's a dust storm, and her rover is powered by solar panels. it's not as violent as the one that forced them to abort the mission, it's just a huge cloud of dust she can get stuck in. but she manages to figure out how to get around the storm and continues on her merry way to the schiaparelli crater.
when she reaches schiaparelli and begins to descend into the crater, her rover hits a soft spot on the ramp and flips over. she's fine, and it doesn't take too long to fix, so eventually she continues on.
and now she has reached schiaparelli!!!! she gets back in contact with nasa through the mav, and nasa lets the hermes and mav talk directly - not a call, just emails back and forth, but they get to have a conversation and the hermes is so close to earth at this point that they're only a couple light-seconds away, so there's barely any delay.
problem: normally, the hermes would orbit mars for 31 sols and then the mav would bring the crew to low mars orbit and dock with the hermes, but the flyby won't let the hermes go into orbit, so mattie has to basically gut the mav to make it light enough to get up into space entirely. part of that involves removing the entire front of the ship, and the control panels, so mattie won't control the ship - reese will pilot it remotely. everything is good to go, and they're ready for launch.
the day of the rescue comes, and because mars and earth are 12 light-minutes apart, if the ares crew asked a question, it would take 24 minutes to get a response, so they're entirely on their own with no help from nasa. the plan is for reese to fly the ship, eva sysops the ascent, and kate literally has to go out in space, catch the mav, and bring mattie back while annleigh is their backup. reese launches the ship, and mattie had to cover the hole with hab canvas, which rips in the ascent and throws mattie off course. they're 68 kilometers apart, which is way too far. they use the attitude adjusters to get closer to the mav, but then they're going 42 meters per second, which is way too fast. to slow down,,,,, cairo has annleigh build a bomb and they blow a hole in the vehicular airlock, which helps them slow down enough that kate can catch mattie.
kate goes out, gets mattie out of the ship, and annleigh reels them in. cairo reports six crew safely aboard, and there's worldwide celebration.
kate brings mattie back to the medbay and bandages her ribs, and it ends with mattie sitting in the medbay, sore, exhausted, starving, vision blurry from acceleration sickness, and so goddamn happy that she's going to live. she reflects a bit on how many people came together to save her life, and how that's basic human nature, and she's just really glad to be on her way back to earth.
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thiswasinevitableid · 5 years ago
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17, indruck, nsfw if you want would be awesome. Your writing is incredible btw and reading (and re-reading) your fics always makes my day!
Thank you so much! And here you go, it is indeed NSFW
17. i get your name during secret santa at work and use the same wrapping paper for my gift to my friend, so…sorry about all the sex toys 
Duck adores the way work does secret santa; random assignments, followed by dropping the gift off on the 20th. Simple and to the point, and no gathering where everyone is judging everyone else’s gift choices. 
Plus, this year he got Indrid as his person to buy for. He’s head of marketing and design for the Arboretum, and Duck’s been looking for new ways to help him feel welcome. He started up in February and is a little reclusive, seeming to think his work is so different from that of the rangers, gardeners, and researchers that they won’t want to talk with him. 
Duck finds him fascinating, if a bit weird. They worked together to design new promotional art featuring native prairie plants, and Indrid soaked up everything Duck told him. And it’s remarkable to see the familiar ecosystem come to life through a new set of eyes. Light brown, curious eyes that Duck’s sensed watching him appreciatively from time to time. No harm there, Duck’s stolen more than a few peeks at Indrid when the artist is otherwise occupied.
So, yeah, he’s glad the gift gives him another way of making Indrid feel like he’s a part of the team.
When he steps through the office door, Indrid perks up, spinning in his chair. 
“Good morning Duck! You caught me just in time, I have to take Thacker his gift.”
“Ain’t that a coincidence. Here” he produces the flat, rectangular box wrapped in pine tree paper, “Santa’s makin an early delivery.”
Indrid flaps his hands with a delighted smile, so Duck sets the box down on his desk. 
“Thank you so much, Duck. I have a meeting right after seeing Thacker so I can’t open it now-”
“No big deal, man. Just wanted to get it to you in case you were runnin around all day. Merry Christmas, ‘Drid.”
That smile follows him all the way to his office, then out into the freshly snow-covered woods. Indrid always seems so happy to see him. Unlike some people.
He checks his phone. Still no texts. He left Jason’s present on his front porch, some part o him hoping that it would strike the right balance between “it’s cool if we stay friends with benefits” and “but I would really like something more serious. Really. Would it kill you to go on an actual date?”
It’s not like the other guy isn’t willing to demand lots of Duck’s time and energy. It’s just that whenever Duck needs even a smidge of the same, he’s nowhere to be found. 
As he’s eating lunch, his phone buzzes. 
J: Dropped wrapped box back at your place. Been leading up to this for awhile, but I’m gonna end things. I know a cuffing move when I see one. 
Well, that explains the lack of contact for three weeks. 
He groans, closes his thermos. Has be really been that desperate for romance that he spent all this energy on a guy who acts twenty-five rather than thirty-five? It’s not that much to ask, right? He just wants someone who thinks he’s worth their time, who likes talking with him, who wants to get to know all the messy, overgrown parts of him. 
Ding
It’s an email from Indrid, asking if Duck will stop by his office after he locks up the visitor center so Indrid can thank him for the gift.
He responds in the affirmative, soothes his bruised ego for a few more minutes, and then dives back into his reports on the health of the Lost Forest section.
By the time he locks up, the only cars in the parking lot are his truck and Indrid’s VW Van. He heads to the lower floor and follows the clicking of a keyboard to Indrid’s office. 
“Hello, Duck.” Indrid ushers him in, shutting the door behind the ranger, “I’m glad you didn’t have to rush off. Please, ah, have a seat.” He gestures to the chair across from his desk, which he then leans back against. Duck could be imagining it, but it looks as if his usually messy, dyed silver hair has been brushed down. And he’s not in the thick coat and hat he wears on his way out the door at the end of the day; he’s still in his black cardigan and light green shirt, black pants showcasing the long lines of his legs. 
“I, ah, I really like the gift, Duck. And I was, ah, was wondering if you’d like to go get dinner before we make use of it.”
“Uh, how would we both use a sweater?” Duck’s heart ping-pongs between his throat and his stomach. 
“......What sweater?” Indrid’s eyes are wide behind his red glasses. 
“Aw fuck” Duck drops his head into his hands, “knew I shoulda bought more wrappin paper.”
“To be certain I am understanding correctly, this is not what you meant to give me?” Indrid bites his lip, tilting the box so Duck can see the contents. 
“Yeah, I did not mean to give my coworker a vibrator and a fuckin paddle.” He flops his head back, covering his face with his hands. Maybe he can hide like this until Indrid leaves or the world chooses to mercifully strike him dead. 
“Oh.” Indrid puts the lid back on the box, “it was for someone else. That makes more sense.”
He sounds sad, and that’s a million times worse than if he were angry or mocking. There has to be a way for Duck to salvage this. 
“Uh, you can keep ‘em. If, uh, if you want. Person I got ‘em for don’t wanna see me anymore.”
“I don’t have much use for them on my own. Well, I suppose this could be fun” he picks up the vibrating plug, one that can sync to music, speech, or an app, “but not as fun as it would with someone else controlling it.”
“You tellin me there ain’t someone chompin at the bit to get you into bed?”
“I’m not really anyone’s type.”
“You’re mine. Fuck. I, uh, I mean, uh-”
“Duck, while you recently got dumped, I assure you, you can do better than me.”
“Hey, I’ll have you know I thought about you way more in the last month than I thought about him.” 
Indrid’s eyebrows leap up his head. Then his expression does a series of acrobatics, landing on disbelief. His friend looks down at the floor, arms crossed comfortingly around his stomach.
Duck stands, the few feet between them as charged and uncertain as a crumbling cliff edge. Carefully, he sets his hands on Indrid’s shoulders. 
“‘Drid, is there somethin you been meanin to tell me?”
“I like you a lot, Duck. And I find you painfully attractive.” Indrid refuses to look up, not even when Duck rests a hand on his cheek.
“Why didn’t you say anythin sooner?”
“I didn’t think you felt the same way.” 
Duck guides his face so they’re looking at each other, takes a deep breath, and leans up to kiss him. 
A fluttery sigh as Indrid’s hands settle on Duck’s body, starting on his hips and then boldly slipping into his back pockets. He keeps the kiss slow and chaste, holds off on parting his lips or nipping at the curves of Indrid’s mouth. Duck’s never had to reassure someone with a kiss before and he’s not going to fuck it up. 
He shifts forward, encouraging Indrid’s exploration of his body, and accidentally presses the taller man into the desk, pinning him. Indrid “eeps” into the kiss, going rigid in Duck’s arms.
“Fuck, sorry” Duck tries stepping back, only for Indrid to grab his ass, keeping them chest to chest. 
“Don’t be.”
Duck considers the flush crawling up Indrid’s neck and the hopeful look hiding behind his glasses. He sets a hand on each bony hip and gives a short, sharp shove, growling a little. Indrid moans, louder this time, and yanks him into a kiss by his hair. When he lets go Duck gulps for air before biting his ear
“You like it when I’m mean, sugar?”
“Like does not even begin describing it.”
“Here I thought I was gonna have to romance you some.”
“I am in favor of romance as well.” Indrid wriggles his hips, grin wide and eager. As much as Duck wants a look at the cock currently hardening against his thigh, he has an even better idea. 
“Think I can do both. It’s real clear tonight, whole place’ll look amazing with a full moon on the snow. Howsabout you and me take a little walk?”
“That sounds-”
“With you wearin this the whole time.” He whacks the gift box towards Indrid.
“-Perfect. Give, give me one moment.” Indrid grabs the plug and one of the packets of lube Duck put in it for courtesy and dashes from the room. Duck downloads an app onto his phone, and holds Indrid’s coat open for him when he gets back. 
As they set off down one of the short loop trails, he casually asks, “you turn it on?”
“Of courseAHhnn” Indrid shudders, stumbling on his next step. 
“You know much about that model?”
“I aAAAhhsumed it’s remote controlled”
“It is” Duck pulls his phone out, shows Indrid the corresponding app, “but it syncs to music too and, uh” he smirks, leans closer to the phone, “speech.”
Indrid yelps as the toy buzzes again. Duck happens to know it has multiple speeds and a thrust function, and he wants to know just how Indird looks when those kick on at the same time. But he pauses, waiting to see if Indrid needs to stop and go back inside.
“In, in that case” he flicks a strand of hair from his face, “why don’t you tell me about the nest you’ve been watching.”
Duck takes his arm, guiding them along the path and explaining all about the Great Horned Owl nest he’s spotted, and how he’s not sure why it’s occupied right now since nesting season isn’t for months for that species. He keeps his phone in his free hand the entire time to better pick up his voice. Indrid nods, doing his best to listen, but by the time the hit the clearing in question he’s having a hard time walking. When he’s busy looking at the stars, Duck finds the button on the app to turn on the thrusting function.
“FUCK!” Indrid hunches forward, bracing on a tree trunk, “ohgoodness, that’s, that’s so good.” He’s working his hips and ass against nothing,whimpers filling the night air. 
“Yeah? You like the fact I can fuck you without eve touchin you?” 
Indrid whines, manages to turn around and lean on the trunk, right hand frantically pawing his crotch. 
“Keep your fuckin hands off you dick.”
The whine jumps several notes in the scale as Indrid slams his palms flat on the bark, face turned pleadingly to the sky and hips jerking helplessly in a futile search for friction. He looks so debauched and just a little out of place, the sweet little artist who strayed too far into the woods and is at the mercy of the big, bad, wolf. 
This big bad wolf has no interest in mercy. 
“Lookit you. Gonna make a mess of yourself just from some teasin.”
“This is haAArdly teasing, oh, ohgod.”
“I’d say it counts. I mean, I may not let you cum at all.”
“Please” The whimper gives way to a sob, Indrid thoroughly cornered against the tree as Duck lunges forward.
“You’re on my turf now, sugar, so you don’t get to make a demand. We’re gonna do this my way, and I ain’t decided if that means leavin you to walk back hard or to make you cum so many times you make a mess of those pants and gotta drive home wearin a reminder of how fuckin needy you are when it comes to my dick.”
“Yes, yesyesyes”  Indrid tries to grind forward enough to hump him. Duck drops his phone in his pocket, figuring it’ll still pick up enough, and traps his hips back. 
“Yesss, Duck, sweetheart, please, please kiss me.”
“Can’t do that and talk at the same time.” Duck rips off one glove.
“BuMPHmmmmm”  Indrid hums around the fingers in his mouth, still writhing weakly against Duck’s hold. He has to be close, and Duck is harder than diamond.
The wolf pounces. 
He spins Indrid away from the tree and brings him gracelessly to the ground, climbing atop him and working his hips hard, rutting against his trapped dick. Indrid’s feet kick in the snow and he clings to him, babbling as Duck chases his orgasm.
“So good, so good sweetheart, please, please I’m going to cum-”
“If you cum before I finish I’m fuckin leavin you here.” 
“I can’t, it’s, it’s so much, I’ll make it up to you, oh, oh Duck, AHhnnn”  Indrid tenses under him, cumming with a cry.
“Fuck it” He grunts, grinding as hard as he can even as Indrid squirms from the overstimulation beneath him. It’s not always easy for him to cum like this, but goddamnit he’s soaked his boxers and Indrid is still here, willing and submissive, taking whatever Duck gives him, letting the beast in the trees have his fill. 
He cums with a gasp, dropping forward as it races through him. Over the rush in his ears, Indrid is murmuring sweetly, telling him how wonderful it was. 
Why are his knees so fucking cold?
Oh, right, the snow.
With a groan he sits up, standing on wobbly legs and helping Indrid up. When the other man whimpers he fumbles his phone, turning the toy off.
“C’mon, let’s go back and warm up.”
Indrid grins, looping their arms together and leaning against him. It’s not just the post-orgasm haze that has him giddy; he realizes he feels like this whenever he and Indrid are together.
“‘Drid will, uh, will you come home with me?”
“I have an alternate proposition. I need to change my clothes, and need to feed the mischief at home. How about you meet me at Blue Plate in an hour? After all, I did promise you a date.”
Duck brushes snow from Indrid’s hair as the taller man embraces him. Indrid is watching him, and it’s the first time a long while that Duck’s felt fully seen. 
“You did, didn’t you.” He sighs, resting his head on Indrid’s shoulder.
“Is that a ...yes?”
He tips his head up, kissing Indrid’s cheek, “Yep. It’s a date.”
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