#but the rest of the personnel seems absolutely lovely so that is a huge plus

[estebanbicon]

So I don't really follow Alpine closely but from what I've seen their management has always seemed a bit messy. This was further reinforced with Piastri mess and how things went with Alonso. I've noticed Pierre fans say since the deal was signed that Alpine seems very supportive of Pierre, showing that he's wanted and valued, especially from Laurent Rossi I think. And tbh they haven't seemed particularly supportive of their drivers before so I thought to ask you if it was the same case with Este? Did they act the same way about him as they're doing for Pierre now?

hm, i think it is a bit different with este because he joined while it was still renault under cyril abiteboul.

i do think they did show appreciation when they gave him a new (and better) engineer in josh peckett in 2021, someone este has worked with before in manor, and also some new people on his side of the garage. because it worked better for este and it showed. and of course the trust they put in him signing him until 2024 back in 2021.

but also, laurent rossi is very messy. he managed to freeze out both marcin budowski and alain prost. especially how they handled prost leaving - announcing it without prost knowing - was incredibly bad. prost himself came for rossi, saying he was a selfish dick who wants to be on top deciding everything alone.

rossi also often makes dumbass comments to media. i remember when este had the problems with his cracked chassis for a few races, and immediately rossi labelled him as number two driver, only for este to go and win hungary and rossi doing a 180 pretending he always knew este had it in him. and now of course him acting all tough about the alonso este clashes.

since otmar szfanauer joined, rossi has taken a backseat, at least publically. but otmar also sometimes makes odd comments, though i do prefer him over rossi.

i have seen that renault/alpine has always been seen as messy. daniel also was shocked at their disorganization, and i guess that also factored into alonso and oscar leaving.

in general, i think it is a supportive team to have, but the leading bosses are very uh peculiar.

[hualianff]

Mi Amor(tentia) II 《I》

Every Sunday, XL personally delivers the ingredients to HC to restock after each week. Sometimes it’s during the morning before classes, HC inviting XL to stay and chat over coffee.

Other times, it’s in the middle of HC’s classes because XL’s only has so many chunks of free time to drop the ingredients off. XL usually keeps himself scarce as he helps himself to deposit the ingredients off on HC’s desk in his office.

On days XL is especially busy with classes, meetings with outside personnel and tending to the school’s greenhouse, his sixth-year teaching assistant, BY, will deliver ingredients to HC.

HC is easily the person XL enjoys spending time with the most. They have such fun conversations and HC makes XL feel so comfortable and listened to. Plus, HC is undeniably charming and handsome. XL thanks whatever higher power there is that someone as refined as HC took XL under his wing.

XL has learned and observed that HC is a professor that students either love or hate. Some perceive the potions professor as sketchy-looking and unfair in his grading. They take HC’s pushing as ridiculing, then complain about their poor marks after refusing to do the bare minimum of the assignment.

(Unbeknownst to HC, XL has taken it upon himself to passive aggressively warn these students from bad-mouthing HC in the hallways.)

Understandably, The first year students absolutely cower in HC’s presence. But from fourth year and up, HC is one of the most loved professors. When HC begins to passionately lecture with really big hand gestures and funny word combinations, the students can’t help but admire him with starry eyes.

(Student: “Hua Lao Shi, I don’t think ‘impossibleness’ is a word.”

HC: “It is now. As I was saying, don’t let the impossibleness of a goal influence your confidence in working towards it. You should not pay attention to whether something is possible or not, but rather focus on what steps you’re taking to find your answer.)

He’s clearly smart; intellectually based from the readings he assigns students from his own books; socially as his humor is always on point and he never misses a beat to tease his students; and emotionally because HC does not tolerate bullying in his house or his classroom. (Nor in the school, if he can help it.)

HC himself was bullied back in the muggle orphanage and during his time at Hogwarts. He knows what it feels like to wake up dreading going to classes and interacting with people who had nothing better to do than put others down. 

So while HC can seem intimidating and blunt at first, he genuinely has his students’ best interests and wellbeing in mind. Witnessing how seriously HC takes his job as a teacher and trusted adult figure, XL’s feelings wrap around him like vines and squeeze him in their hold anytime he’s around HC.

XL’s never had a crush like this before.

Later in the semester, XL and HC are chosen as the professors to monitor the first years on their first trip to Hogsmeade. There is no doubt the transfiguration professor, SQX, took part in pulling some strings to make this happen for XL.

What no one knows is that the defense against the dark arts professor also played matchmaker. In an intense game of wizard's chest that unfortunately ended in his defeat, HX was forced to nominate HC to go with XL. 

HC and XL make the best guides. XL is very enthusiastic in answering first years’ questions while HC is good at describing things through muggle terminology.

During his years at Hogwarts, XL has always loved the Hogsmeade trips and bought new candies from Honeydukes each time. In fact, he has a huge sweet tooth that he can never satisfy. Cue XL showing the students around Honeydukes and HC buying all of XL’s favorite goodies in the background.

When it’s time to move on to the next store, HC presents the bagged sweets to XL with a smile.

(XL, staring at the bagged sweets: “San Lang! You shouldn’t have!”

HC, grabbing XL’s hand and physically transferring the bag: “Nonsense. Gege deserves a reward for working so hard lately. Giving him a few candies is the least I can do.”

XL, clutching the bag tightly, fingers tingling from brushing against HC’s own: “If you insist. Many thanks, San Lang.” 

XL snacks on some sweets for the rest of the trip. HC watches with a pleased eye.)

One day during finals week before winter break, XL falls ill with a terrible migraine. He’s been prone to migraines for a while now, which he’s used to enduring with medicine tablets that don’t do much to ease the pain. 

XL manages to get through his morning classes. But by lunch time, his stomach pain worsened tenfold to which HC, who planned on having lunch with XL, convinced the herbology professor to take the rest of the day off. 

“But my classes-” XL’s voice breaks off as he winces as another wave of nausea sweeps through his body. HC puts a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

“I will fill in for you,” HC assures. XL looks like he’s about to protest, however, the potions professor holds a finger up to his lips. “I can quickly brew something up for your pain. You like the smell of eucalyptus, right? I can add a faint scent to soothe your sinuses too.”

“San Lang…”

HC fixes XL with a pointed stare. XL’s face softens, eyes closing in defeat.

“Thank you,” he says gratefully. Without thinking, HC reaches over to cup XL’s cheek, sliding back to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear before massaging his temple. 

“It’s not a problem. Gege needs rest.”

Luckily, HC doesn’t have afternoon classes lined up for the afternoon. Once XL has retired to his room to relax, HC settles behind XL’s desk as students filter in for class to take the final exam.

(Students who had potions that morning entering the herbology room: “Oh shit-”)

Between classes, HC completes the tasks written in XL’s planner he left during lunch. Unfortunately, HC has a certain TA who sidles up next to him out of nowhere, whispering inconspicuously, “I know you have the hots for Xie Lao Shi.”

HC, who had been marking scrolls, jolts in shock. His left hand streaks across the parchment, leaving a red trail in its wake. 

(Student who receives his scroll with a huge red line: “The fuck???? Does this mean it’s wrong? Do I need to do it again?”)

HC ignores BY as he continues about his business. Except BY rolls a chair right beside the desk, her prying eyes making HC feel like he needs to cover more than just his right eye.

“Tell me everything.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“Liar.”

“Watch how you speak to your professor, young lady-”

“Watch how you speak to your professor, young lady,” BY repeats in a nasally voice. HC tightly clenches the pen in his hand. BY, unfazed about testing HC’s patience, sighs pitifully. “Sorry, Hua Lao Shi. I swear, I’m only trying to help.”

“Help with what?” HC asks, attempting to remain oblivious. BY gives HC a deadpan. “Ok, fine. How could you possibly help?”

“Well, I heard that Xie Lao Shi might be crushing on another professor-” HC chokes on his spit. “-and maybe you two…”

BY taps the tips of her pointer fingers together. 

“What!?” HC aggressively clears his throat. The scrolls are long forgotten now. “H-how do you know?”

“He told me,” BY reveals, smirking like the devil’s child.

“Who is it? Tell me more,” HC demands.

“Ah ah ah–you first.”

HC can’t believe this girl who has him cornered is the same timid third-year transfer student who couldn’t even look him in the eye. He bites his tongue, reluctant to discuss his person of interest with a seventeen-year-old. BY just sits there, looking unbothered as she examines her nails while waiting for HC to cave.

It doesn’t take more than ten minutes before HC admits it. 

“Fine. Yes, I like Xie Lao Shi.”

“What do you like about him?” BY asks immediately. HC itches to take points from Hufflepuff; what is this, an interrogation?

To no one’s surprise, HC spends the next half hour praising XL’s selling points (which are all of them) and subtly hinting how plans to ask the herbology professor out soon. BY unhelpfully inputs that HC needs to confess his feelings first. 

“And then he needs to accept your feelings too,” she adds, much to HC’s irritation. 

“I thought you were helping me?”

“I am,” BY smiles innocently. “By listening.”

“You’re not going to tell me who…?” HC falls silent, glaring at the last scroll he finished grading. A glance at his watch indicates there are fifteen minutes left before the final class of the day begins.

“Of course not. I don’t go around spilling professors’ secrets, especially Xie Lao Shi’s,” BY says. HC nods in resignation. 

BY doesn’t tell HC shit in the end, yet somehow made him unload a few things about his feelings regarding XL. HC supposes she was right about the listening part. 

Must be some sort of witchcraft. (HC tells himself that XL definitely would’ve laughed at this thought.)

Strangely, HC feels better after this little confessional session. Though he is incredibly curious as to who has caught XL’s eye in this school. HC’s heart painfully twists in on itself at the possibility that it’s anyone but him. 

HC desperately hopes BY’s rule about not sharing secrets applies to him as well. 

《III》

[belovedrival]

“It’s Jonas.”

It’s been almost six months but I did say I would talk about my experience, so here goes...

(It’s really long, I started this draft when Jonas was three months old)

I was told that I would be induced on March 10, a Wednesday. My due date was the 17th but baby had been measuring large for months so my doctor just wanted to go ahead with it. I agreed. We’d made it to 39 weeks and that was good. Plus, I felt huge and just...done with being pregnant. 

I worked (from home) on the 10th. It felt sort of surreal, knowing that we’d be at the hospital at 5 pm that evening, but I knew I needed to work to keep my mind off what was coming. For a while, at least. 

We’d started packing the hospital bags for weeks before. I’d left my suitcase open next to the bed and I’d throw things in there whenever I’d do laundry or think of something else I wanted to take. I sort of knew then that I was majorly overpacking (and in hindsight it’s laughable how much stuff I never wore/used) but at least we were prepared, right?

Yeah, about that...

Mister drove to the hospital. Since I was being induced, it wasn’t any frenetic, movie scene type, panicked dad experience. We just put our things in the car and drove there. On the way we talked about how strange it was, knowing that when we came home (God willing), there would be a baby in the car seat. Of course at that time we still didn’t know if our baby was a girl or boy.

(Mister told me later that he was almost certain baby was a boy. He said he’d heard too many nurses/medical personnel ‘slip’ while we were having ultrasounds and whatnot.)

People can choose to find out or not, but it puts a whole other dimension on the experience when you don’t know in advance. Just my two cents.

As we turned into the hospital parking lot, Mister told me to open the glove box. “There’s something for you in there,” he said. I opened it, trying to swallow the bowling ball that had lodged itself in my throat.

“Oh!” I said. “What I always wanted - an owner’s manual!”

When I’m nervous, I often joke.

There was a small white box next to the owner’s manual. In it was a necklace with an aquamarine pendant; one of the birthstones for March. Of course I cried.

We took an obligatory selfie before going inside the hospital. After getting checked in, we went to our room. I remember thinking that we’d only be in that room probably a day, and that 24 hours later, we’d be upstairs post delivery.

Ha. Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!!

I was given a drug to start labor (not pitocin). I’ve always hated needles and so getting an IV was not part of my top 100,000 Things I Love to Do List. Thankfully, the nurse who put it in was really good, so I barely felt anything. 

The one major memory of this whole experience (other than Jonas, of course) was how good the nurses were. I am forever grateful to them. 

Other than the IV and monitors, Mister having to sleep on the sofa, and me laying on a hospital bed, we could almost trick ourselves into imagining we were staying at some sort of hotel. Almost. For a few hours, anyway.

Wednesday night into Thursday morning was okay. I was feeling persistent pain. It wasn’t terrible, just uncomfortable, and I knew that it was part of the process. I didn’t sleep great but I was able to get some rest.

Around six o’clock there was a shift change, and my nurse for the day came in. Liz had a kind of cheerleader vibe about her, very positive, and in some other circumstances I might’ve found her annoying. But I liked her.

My doctor came in a little after seven and broke my water. That experience was...weird. I mean, it was a new experience for me, so it’s hard to describe. Uh, water is wet, so it was wet? Honestly, the thing I remember the most is that there was some meconium after Doc broke my water, which worried me a little. Baby was doing fine and no one seemed super worried, so I set it aside. I DID think it meant I was guaranteed to have the baby that day. How wrong I was, and not for the first time...

They gave me pitocin after my water was broken. So my contractions increased. It felt more like strong period cramps to me. I should say at this point that I have a high pain tolerance. I don’t know what the same level of contractions would feel like to someone else. Sometimes I was only mildly aware that I was having them. 

Probably one of the most annoying things about my entire experience Wednesday/Thursday/into Friday was not being allowed to eat anything. I had ice chips, and water, and Liz managed to get me some Jello. This was actually something of an issue, because I had gestational diabetes, so at first nobody wanted to give me anything except for sugar-free Jello. I did have some of that, but as the day wore on and there wasn’t much progress, Liz talked to somebody and got me some regular Jello. I would’ve preferred something else, but Jello was what I was allowed, so Jello I got.

I...don’t really like Jello. Seriously, like if it’s the only thing, I’ll eat it, but...yeah.

The hours ticked by. Progress was slow. At first I looked forward to Liz and the other nurses coming in and checking me, but by late afternoon, it was clear that things were slooooooow. The best part of Thursday was sometime in the afternoon Liz suggested bouncing on the ball. I was really happy to get out of bed and bounce for a while. After doing that, I decided it was time for the epidural.

I’d decided beforehand I wanted an epidural. As I said, I absolutely hate needles, but I also didn’t want my body to be so stressed that labor couldn’t progress. In the back of my mind, I also thought that if the situation changed, and a c-section became necessary, the epidural would already be in place. 

After the epidural was put in, I started shaking on the edge of the bed, tears rolling down my face. Liz was still holding on to me, and Mister was there, and they both asked what was wrong. I couldn’t speak for a minute. It felt a little like I was five years old, still terrified of that darn needle, and all the tension I’d suppressed had to get out somehow.

“It’s okay,” Liz said, giving me a hug. Sometimes that’s all that’s needed. I was sorry to see her go when her shift ended. She said she was working again on Saturday and that she’d stop by to see us after the baby was born, to see what we were having. (She did stop by.)

This was a constant refrain from most of the nurses: upon first coming into the room, and looking at the white board that had my information and seeing next to “Baby” was written “Surprise!!” we inevitably got the question, “You don’t know what you’re having? That’s awesome!” 

Getting the epidural made the pain diminish, but it also made things more complicated for me because I couldn’t move. Overnight, a tag team of nurses turned me one way and the other, and checked me. 

(I should also mention that all of the staff at the hospital had already been vaccinated, and they all wore masks into the rooms. We did not have to wear masks in the room, but if we went outside it, they were required.)

By Thursday night, both Mister and I were feeling rather discouraged. All day Thursday we’d been told that baby would come “by the afternoon”, then “by the evening”, and then late Thursday, “by Friday morning”. Bear in mind that I’d been on an IV/ induced since roughly six pm on Wednesday. 

Maybe this sounds laughable to people who’ve had 72 hour long labors, but I’d been mentally prepared for around 24 hours of labor. My twin sister had been induced with her first, and her labor had gone about that long. Around midnight on Thursday I was feeling pretty discouraged. Mister wasn’t angry but he said (when we were alone) that he felt like the staff had been overly optimistic. I just don’t think either of us had thought about the implications of me being induced without any sign of active labor. In hindsight, I was glad it was done then, but...yeah. Not being mentally prepared for that long of a labor was hard. I felt bad for everyone who was waiting on updates; it felt like literally nothing happened for about thirty hours. Like I think was dilated to five by Friday morning. And effaced? Practically nothing. My cervix wasn’t getting thinner at all.

Early Friday morning, a new nurse started her shift. My first impressions of Diana were...well, I thought, “she’s definitely not as friendly as Liz.” She was more brusque. As I hadn’t slept much Thursday night, and having been in the same situation for over a day, I didn’t care nearly as much about making friends. By that point I was tired - physically, mentally, emotionally.

But Diana was awesome. She got me turned onto my hands and knees, and had me start doing some vigorous exercises, to really move labor along. I was fine with doing whatever she said because I was REALLY ready to be done. So it felt a little like my cross country days in high school, at the finish of a difficult race. I was tired, I wasn’t sure how much I could do physically, but we had a GOAL and dammit, we were going to do everything to get there!

By late morning, even after the exercises, I was still dilated at a five. Hardly effaced at all. After checking me again, Diana left the room. The option of a c-section had been discussed, especially since it was over 24 hours since my water had been broken.

“I think I’m done,” I said to Mister. Even though I’d never really been 100% ‘I want a natural birth experience’, it felt a little like giving up. I started crying again. “I just don’t think this [natural labor] is going to work. I’m done.”

“If you’re done, that’s it,” Mister said. “Tell Diana you want a c-section.”

I have to say something here about Mister. Even though he kept saying he didn’t know what he was doing or how he should support me, he was AWESOME. He supported every decision, and listened to me talk about the different options. For as hard as labor was for me, I think he had a different hard time. All he could do was literally sit there and watch me go through pain and doubt and fear, and comfort me as best he could. He was a great comfort.

(This is why even if thoughtful partners don’t think they’re doing a good job at supporting laboring moms, they most likely are. Their presence is invaluable. For anyone who doesn’t have a supportive partner with them, or an absent one, my profound condolences.)

When Diana came back in, I told her I wanted a c-section. This was around 11 o’clock Friday morning, March 12th. “I agree,” she said right away, patting me on the shoulder. “You’ve done everything you possibly can to get this baby delivered naturally. I trust mom’s instincts on this.”

Her support meant so much. Really, when a veteran nurse says they trust your instinct, how can you not feel better about your decision?

She left to contact my doctor and several other people, and Mister let people know what was going on. At that point I was more relieved that soon it would be over. I wanted to see our baby.

Mister said later that he learned that hospitals have two speeds: 1) we’re in no rush; and 2) something is going to happen NOW. While my c-section wasn’t an emergency, once the decision was made, things did happen fast. Diana brought the anesthesiologist into the room so he could numb me up. As I already had the epidural, this didn’t take very long. After a few minutes of letting the medication work, Bryce asked if I could feel my toes.

“No,” I said. It was weird. I knew I shouldn’t feel them, but I couldn’t help saying, “I’m trying to wiggle them!”

“No, no, it’s good you can’t feel them,” both Bryce and Mister said. I was wheeled out of the labor room a few minutes after that (I was not sorry to leave it) and taken to the OR. Mister went with someone else to take our stuff to the recovery room.

I’ve been in operating rooms before. They aren’t places that make me want to stay there. Bright lights, metal everywhere, many thoughts of what could go wrong...although I will say that all the staff in the OR made me feel confident. I was glad to see my doctor. 

I felt better once I was in the OR (the only time in my life I’ve ever felt that way) but it felt like a long time until Mister arrived in there. He’d gone with a member of staff as they took all our stuff to a recovery room, then been taken to the OR. Once he was in place, everything started.

Doctor M had asked me before Mister arrived if he wanted to ‘announce’ was the baby was. I told her that he most likely would, but to ask him. She did, and he said yes, he’d love to do that.

There was a blue sheet in front of me so I really couldn’t see anything that went on - which was PERFECTLY FINE with me.

Obviously, I was flat on my back, and everything below my chest was numb. The doctor and others asked me at various times if I felt anything, and I didn’t (other than tugging and pulling). At one point, I suddenly smelled the unmistakable scent of something burning. “What is that? That burning smell?” I asked, glancing above me (really, behind me) at Bryce, who stood there.

“I’ll tell you later,” he said.

Which immediately told me I didn’t want to know what it was. 

Yeah, it was me burning, while the medical staff cauterized me, keeping me from bleeding to death.

(The fact that cesarean sections are major surgery, and regularly happen every day in the United States, is, frankly, a miracle. Everyone hears about the horror stories when something goes wrong, but considering the number of women who go through them without incident, we as a society completely take them for granted.)

As the tugging and pulling continued, and Doctor M said things like, “there’s the head”, the sense of anticipation increased. I’ve never felt anything like it before. Both Mister and I knew any moment we would meet our baby, and after waiting 39 weeks (and eight years before that), it was almost unbearable.

Doctor M said, “Here’s the baby!”

I heard a slight cry, and I looked up at Mister, who sat on my right, holding my hand. He looked down at me and said, “It’s Jonas.”

Even thinking about that moment now brings tears to my eyes. In knowing Mister almost eleven years, I’ve only seen him cry maybe five times. Including this year, on March 12th. We both were bawling, and laughing at the same time, as Jonas VERY loudly screamed his disapproval at being evicted from his warm, cozy space. At one point, Mister, laughing as he cried said, “One of the ---s (our last name) needs to stop crying in here!”

He has a rather husky cry, Jonas does. I loved his cry from the moment I first heard it (though I don’t actually like to hear him cry, if that makes any sense).

As I was sewn up, Mister moved his chair over to where our baby was, under a heat lamp. Then he brought Jonas over to me. My first thought was, he’s HUGE. My second thought was, he was the most beautiful baby I’d ever seen.

He weighed nine pounds, five ounces at birth, and had a fifteen inch head circumference. After I heard that, I knew a natural birth was never going to happen. He was born on Friday the 12th of March, at 1:14 pm. The digital clock on the wall said 13:14, which I thought was cool. And it made it a bit easier to remember the time :)

He had lots of dark hair, which I loved. My sister’s had bald babies, so it was nice to have a different-looking kid. Over the last few months, his hair almost entirely disappeared due to cradle cap, and is coming back in...blond. Genetics!

I can say now that it’s past, that I was more afraid during pregnancy than I could admit to anyone, even Mister. I have always been a worrier, and finally being pregnant after so many years, and being high risk due to my age (and my shunt, and the gestational diabetes...) I was in almost constant worry of something going wrong. First of miscarriage (no one needed to tell me of the statistics regarding older mothers), then of stillbirth, like the cord getting wrapped around baby’s neck, and death happening before delivery could happen. I have heard of at least two different stories of that happening to pregnant women in the ninth month - friends of friends of mine - and the fear of that, or something else equally catastrophic happening was, at times, almost crippling. I would’ve preferred to have never been pregnant at all rather than suffer a miscarriage or stillbirth. 

Perhaps it sounds childish, but mentally I didn’t think I was strong enough to have the dream of motherhood dashed, when every day of pregnancy brought that dream closer. I was (and still am) too much of a realist to ignore the statistics; I couldn’t pretend I was 22 and have a blissfully ignorant uneventful pregnancy. To this day, even after giving birth to a healthy baby, one of the biggest things that will set me off is the assumption that way too many people have. “We’re planning on getting pregnant soon.” “Just have kids, you’ll understand.” “I can take you out and make one just like you.” [a redneck phrase I’ve heard being said to a misbehaving child]

Not many of us can “plan” on getting pregnant exactly when we want to - or even within a year’s time. Not all of us can “just have kids” - they’re not like going to the store and getting a gallon of milk. (I recognize the privilege of living in a society where going to the store and expecting fresh milk can also sound arrogant to those who don’t live in one.) ‘Take out’ a kid (even said in jest), and ‘make another one’? I MIGHT have another child in the next couple years. More likely, I won’t. Not all of us can just get pregnant at the drop of a hat. (That’s assuming the one wanting to get pregnant even has a male partner or sperm donor at the ready...some never find that person to have a child with. And adoption can be a great thing, but not everyone is cut out for it. Shaming infertile and childless people for not wanting to adopt is disgusting.)

I was open with my OB-GYN about my fears during pregnancy and she referred me to several resources, and monitored me for PPD. My best friend’s son died in March 2020, a year before Jonas was born (though Billy had severe disabilities which made his death a certain thing), and my sister had had a stillborn son in August 2019 (my nephew Christian). So Jonas being born healthy was a huge relief for me. I can’t really describe the relief, except to say that as much physical weight I gained during pregnancy, letting go of the weight of the worry was felt even more deeply than losing the pounds since his birth (and I’ve haven’t lost all of that).

I will probably always worry about *something*, when it comes to Jonas. He gave me a scare earlier this week, rolling off the couch before I could catch him. He’s fine...and the incident scared me more than it scared him. But every day since he was born is a reminder of the gift he is, and I hope I never lose sight of that, even on the frustrating days (and there have been those over the last almost six months, and there will be more to come).

If you ever wanted children, and are fortunate enough to have them, cherish them. Be grateful for them, even when they drive you up the wall. Even when you only want three minutes’ peace, and they won’t give it to you. Love them anyway. I try to.  

[zoadgo]

Kinktober Day Fifteen | Uniforms | my heart’s the only thing i’m hearing; beatin in and out of rhythm | Shaw x Raven | The 100

Words: 3634

Tags: Uniforms, Modern AU, Bathroom sex, Wall sex

Note that this is a kinktober prompt fill. It will be explicit smut, and quite likely, kinky. Mind the tags.

This isn’t really that focused on the uniforms aspect tbh, sorry!

ao3

“Clarke Griffin,” Raven takes Clarke’s hands in hers and looks deep into her eyes, with total heartfelt sincerity, “I love you.”

“Is that a thank you?” Clarke asks, smiling and shaking her head slightly at Raven’s antics.

“Look around, Clarke, you made me your plus one to literal heaven,” Raven releases Clarke’s hands to sling her arm around the blonde’s shoulders, walking them into the ballroom. “Yes, that’s a thank you.”

The ballroom in question is full of people in gorgeous evening wear, moving about the way that only the very politically powerful do, with a sort of lazy air. They only make up half the population, however, the other fifty percent being soldiers. Decorated military men and women, in their oh so shiny formal uniforms, standing a bit more stiff than the rest. That’s the real reason why Raven had shimmied her way into a bright red dress tonight; ogling people in uniform is a hobby of hers.

“You never would have forgiven me if I hadn’t invited you,” Clarke points out, and Raven laughs.

“Correct.”

“You want me to introduce you to anyone?” Clarke offers.

Raven looks around the room before shaking her head, “No, I’m happy observing from afar for now. But you go do your thing, girl.”

Clarke rolls her eyes with a little smile, but takes her leave at that. She’ll be gone for a while, Raven knows. It’s not the first time she’s been a plus one, she’s used to the drill of Clarke going off to make her rounds of the well-to-do at these events. Clarke’s mom, the current mayor of their town, thinks Clarke is doing her duty as poster child of the campaign, but Raven knows better; Clarke’s already maneuvering for her mom’s seat, and has been for years.

Raven makes her way around the edge of the room slowly, simply feasting her eyes on the beauty arrayed about her. Everyone is physically flawless, of course, and the muscular men and women in uniform are so impossibly good looking that Raven would happily cut her own arm off if they asked her. Well, maybe not happily, but she certainly wouldn’t hesitate. She’s always had a thing for uniforms, but who doesn’t really? The power they imply, the crisp lines and attention to detail in maintaining them, it’s alluring.

Raven smiles at a few people as she meets their eye, but she doesn’t approach anyone. Later in the night, after everyone has got their major agendas out of the way and Clarke rejoins her, she’ll make small talk. Right now, she knows very well she’d only be taking up valuable political time from people far more important than her. Well, maybe not more important, but certainly… shinier.

Raven eyes a few officers, deciding who she might snag a dance with once the greetings give way to more general festivities and the drinks begin to flow. There are a few non-officers as well, in more subdued outfits, but they fail to catch Raven’s eye simply because there’s too much else going on for her to notice anyone not bedecked in gold, silver, and bronze. Raven smiles to herself, imagining being swept up in the arms of a stern, dark haired woman with biceps of steel hidden beneath her starched tunic.

Raven knows from past experience that galas are good fun once the enormously boring people have left, usually retiring quite early in the evening. Clarke, of course, needs to talk with those boring people, which means they got there super early and Raven has to pass the time in some way. And as fun as people watching is, the ballroom is a little too crowded for comfort. Raven finds herself trying to use her hand as a fan, and figures that she might as well wait out the meet and greets outside.

Luckily for her, there are several doors around the ballroom that lead to a large, stone balcony, overlooking what she imagines is a lovely garden in the daytime. As Raven steps outside, immediately blessed by a refreshing breeze, the rows of bushes and flowers are only vague shapes illuminated by the moon and the lights of the party within.

Raven walks over to the stone balustrade and leans her forearms on it, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. The wind carries the scent of manicured flowers to her, a very carefully pleasant smell. It’s soothing, and Raven can’t help but smile, letting herself get lost in the calm, cool of the night.

“Tired of the party already?” A voice breaks through Raven’s reverie, and she opens her eyes, turning her head to look at the man standing next to her.

He’s a soldier too, but he doesn’t look as polished as those inside. His uniform is more functional; still clean and pressed, but not glittering with medals. Raven is glad for the cool night air, because his uniform makes him seem much more attainable than the high and mighty inside, and she’s hate to be blushing and panting over him like some fool. Well, actually, she might not hate it that much, as he smiles at her. He has an exceptional smile, a small quirk of the lips but it makes Raven’s heart flutter.

“Just getting some fresh air. You?” Raven is proud that she manages to stay composed, smiling back at him and tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“Not exactly my scene.” He shrugs and leans on the railing next to Raven, reaching a hand over and holding it out to her, “I’m Shaw, by the way.”

“Raven.” Raven takes his hand, which is warm and dry. The simple contact sends a light electric current through her, a lovely tingle. “Well tell me this, Shaw. If it’s not your scene, why are you here?”

“Orders. Apparently it just wouldn’t do for me to stay back on base, all ‘distinguished personnel’ were required to attend.” Shaw marks the quotes in the air with quirked fingers. “Sometimes it’s enough to make me wish I were lazier.”

He sighs so dramatically that Raven can’t help but laugh. Oh, she knows the feeling all too well; being so good at doing your own work that you get assigned to help others, too. Congratulations on doing a good job, now do some more.

“Distinguished personnel, huh?” Raven turns around, propping her elbows up on the railing and leaning her back against it. She curves a brow with a smile, “Is that supposed to impress me?”

Shaw chuckles, dropping his head towards his hands for a moment before looking up at her with a gaze that makes her heart melt and her pulse race, “Maybe I was hoping it would.”

“Let’s see, what response would you want? Something like ‘Oh, handsome soldier man, tell me all the stories of your victories! Better than that, take me now!’” Raven puts on a ludicrous voice and fans herself with a hand. She could have just smiled and played it safe, and probably gotten a date, but that would break rule number one of being Raven Reyes; never sleep with anyone who doesn’t get your humour, no matter how attractive they are.

Shaw laughs again, which is a definite point in his favour. Not that he really needs more points, but still, it serves to make him even more interesting.

“You think I’m handsome?” Shaw asks with false innocence, and Raven lightly smacks his shoulder.

“Like you don’t know exactly how hot you are.” She shakes her head, but she’s smiling the whole time, because it’s hard not to when someone’s looking at her the way Shaw is right now.

“And if I said I didn’t, would you tell me?” Shaw turns to face Raven, leaning on one elbow. She has to look away, just for a moment as her heart skips a beat and she feels heat flood her cheeks. He’s playing her game, and he’s winning.

“Now why should I do that? I don’t even know you, sir.” Raven plays at being offended.

“You’re right,” Shaw nods solemnly, but when Raven meets his eyes again, he has another little smile curving his lips, “Maybe you’d like it better if I told you how beautiful you are?”

Raven chokes on the breath she’d been taking, and yeah, she’s definitely blushing now. It’s not her fault, not at all, this guy is good. Damn good.

“This your play with all the girls?” She asks, because of course someone as handsome as him and as good with words has to be a player. Aren’t most military men, just by something in their nature? Not that Raven has an issue with that, mind you. She enjoys new partners frequently enough that she’d have to be a huge hypocrite to complain.

“Nah, normally I get them with the ‘distinguished’ line, remember?” Shaw jokes, but then he becomes serious in a heartbeat, “Honestly, though, playing girls isn’t my thing. I just saw you and…”

He trails off, dropping Raven’s gaze and scratching the back of his neck. It’s awkward and so incredibly adorable, Raven melts. If this is his game, he’s an absolute legend. Raven buys every word of it, and she’s pretty good at smelling bullshit most of the time.

“And?” She prompts, unreasonably eager to hear the next part of that sentence.

“You’re one of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever seen. I wouldn’t have been able to sleep if I’d let you get away without at least introducing myself,” Shaw says, voice entirely sincere. Raven’s heart flutters, and that is just not fair. It’s not right for him to say things like that, looking the way that he does.

“Is that all you want, then? To introduce yourself?” Raven asks, turning and mirroring his pose with a wicked smile, “Or is there something else?”

She puts her hand on his forearm, caressing the deep blue tunic. Air force blue. Raven always figured if she ever enlisted, that’s where she would end up, too. Except for her heart condition meant she’d never be a fighter pilot, and she couldn’t join up if that was off the table. She wonders, vaguely, what Shaw’s role is, but she figures that might be a bit impolite to ask.

Shaw raises his hand and brushes a knuckle against her jaw, tracing the line of it. “There might be one other thing I want.”

“Just one?” Raven prompts. Oh, she can think of about a million things she wants right now, and she feels herself growing wet with desire.

“One or two.” Shaw smiles, and it’s like looking at the night sky. Impossible, incredible, everything Raven wants to touch. But this isn’t out of her reach, this is right here, on Earth.

It’s hard to tell who moves first, her or Shaw, but they meet halfway in a kiss that’s so tender it hurts. Raven can tell by the way he touches her that he wasn’t lying. There’s nothing possessive about the kiss, or flashy; it’s a slow drag of their lips together, his hand so gently cradling the back of her neck, their breath mingling as one. It’s reverant, an act of worship or deep, heartfelt appreciation.

When they pull apart after a few long, delicious moments, both of them breathe heavier. Shaw smiles, and Raven is helpless but to return the gesture, warmth glowing in her chest. She shouldn’t feel this much, not this fast, but something about him is incredible. She’s drawn to it, to him, and she doesn’t even mind.

Shaw drops his hand from her neck to take her own in his grasp. He raises it to his mouth, brushing his lips against the back of her knuckles, and that has to be illegal. Raven has done some crazy things with some fantastic people, and none of it has shaken her near as much as that cheesy as hell gesture does. She thinks she might die happy, right there, but the ache between her thighs encourages her to live at least a little bit longer.

“Do you,” Shaw clears his throat and licks his lips, which is distracting as all hell, “want to dance?”

“Not particularly,” Raven replies honestly. Shaw looks mildly hurt for a moment, but she grabs the lapels of his tunic, pulling him closer to her. “I’ve got a little something else in mind.”

She pulls him to her for a far less gentle kiss, catching his lower lip between her teeth. She doesn’t bite it hard, just drags her teeth over the sensitive flesh until she hears Shaw’s breath hitch. His hands go to her hips, still careful, but definitely interested, and Raven arches into him. Thank god he’s not a prude, she’s not sure what she would have done if he’d respectfully told her to fuck off with her impure intentions.

Raven breaks away from his lips, much as it pains her to do so, reminding herself that they’re just on a balcony and anyone could come out at any point. Not that she cares about being caught like horny teenagers, but if she does anything too embarrassing, it might end up hurting Clarke’s position, and she won’t risk that. So Raven rests her forehead against Shaw’s, breathing heavily in the scant air between them.

“So what do you think?” She asks, and Shaw simply nods slightly in response, wordless assent. Raven licks her lips, desire coursing through her, and grabs his hand.

It only takes Raven a few minutes to find what she’s looking for, trailing Shaw behind her through the vast, primarily empty venue. The organizers of this fete had rented out the whole building, but most of the partygoers are in the central ballroom and surrounding area, which works perfectly for what Raven wants. She manages to find the furthest restroom from the gala possible, and all without pushing Shaw against a wall and mounting him in a hallway, too. Really, her self-restraint is incredible.

As soon as the door shuts behind them, Raven locks it, and then she finds herself crowded against a wall by Shaw. A thrill runs through her at his action, as he kisses her again, deep and thorough. His hands go back to her hips, but this time they slide around to her back, pulling her tight to him. Raven moans lightly into the kiss, and Shaw breaks away from her lips to trail kisses along her jaw.

Raven runs her hands up his chest, over the singular medal on his chest for whatever distinguished things he had done. They ought to have given it to him for kissing, Raven thinks, as he captures her lips once more. She wraps her arms around his shoulders, feeling lightheaded as Shaw slides his hands over her ass and further down, caressing the sides of her thighs.

“Shit,” Raven breaks away, panting slightly as Shaw’s finger tease under the hem of her cocktail length dress. It sends delightful flames racing through her, and a new flood of arousal between her thighs, but Raven bites her lip, feeling incredibly stupid, “I don’t have a condom.”

“Left pocket,” Shaw responds, and Raven’s brow furrows as she reaches into the pocket he’d indicated. She feels a familiar foil wrapping, and pulls out a condom with a wry grin.

“Not a player, huh?” Raven wags it at him in mock admonishment.

“No, it’s- the guys, they-” Shaw flounders, and Raven laughs lightly, pressing a quick kiss to his lips once more.

“It’s all good, I’m only teasing. Honestly, I’d be devastated if you didn’t have one,” she admits.

“Really?” Shaw asks, and Raven grins, hitching a leg up over his hip, using her ankle to pull his hips flush with hers. Her eyes flutter at the feeling of his hardness, separated from where she wants him so badly by only a few layers of fabric.

“God yes. There’s no way I could walk away from this, not now.”

Shaw’s hand goes to the underside of her thigh, holding her in place, and he rolls his hips against her, hard friction that draws another moan from Raven. She bites her lip again, only to have Shaw pull it from between her teeth with his thumb.

“You sound incredible,” he almost whispers, brushing her lip, and Raven can’t help the heat that rushes to her cheeks. The feeling of him holding her, of his erection pressing against her, of her own wetness, that’s all perfectly lovely. But that pure tenderness? Raven is entirely unprepared for that.

Raven whimpers as he drops that hand back to her hip and slides it around in order to squeeze at her rear. She rocks against him, against that hardness she craves with a deep, all abiding hunger. She wants to get her hands on his skin, but she also is really liking the sight of him in full uniform rutting against her.

Shaw kisses her neck, and Raven melts in his grasp, sighing happily. A part of her wants to stay like this forever, but she needs more. Raven sneaks her hands between them, fumbling with Shaw’s belt.

“Shit, Raven,” Shaw mutters the expletive under his breath as she conquers the belt and makes short work of his fly, freeing his erection. She strokes him a few times, sizing him up and satisfying that urge to get more skin on skin contact. He feels incredible in her grasp, thick and heavy, and the way his breath stutters is like the finest melody Raven’s ever heard.

“Shaw, I need you,” Raven leans in to whisper her demand in his ear, and Shaw races to oblige. He tears open the condom pack as soon as Raven hands it to him, sheathing himself in latex.

As he does so, Raven hikes her dress up just a bit further, and pulls her panties to the side. She doesn’t want to uncurl her leg from around his waist long enough to remove them entirely, and Shaw doesn’t seem to mind. He lines himself up at her entrance, where Raven aches, throbbing in time with the beating of her heart.

“You’re sure?” Shaw asks. So sweet, so considerate, and so incredibly silly.

Raven answers by way of kissing him and pulling him into her with her heel locked behind his thigh. Shaw groans against her lips as her sinks into her, and Raven’s breath catches. He stretches her with just a touch of burning, and it’s exactly what she needed. She breaks away from his lips to gasp desperately as he bottoms out within her, filling her completely.

“God, Raven, you feel so fucking good,” Shaw mutters, kissing the delicate skin just behind her ear.

“You’re not bad yourself,” Raven retorts breathily.

Shaw chuckles, kissing her neck once again before he begins to move. And if him filling her had felt good, him thrusting feels goddamn heavenly. Raven isn’t ashamed of the noises she makes in the slightest, needy as he rocks through her. The small room fills with the sounds of their sex; slick slide of flesh, her desperate moans, and Shaw’s wrecked grunts and groans.

Pleasure courses through Raven, and Shaw hitches her leg higher on his hip, thrusting in even deeper. She can barely support her weight on the one leg, but Shaw’s grip is incredibly strong, and the new angle feels so fucking good. With each thrust, sparks fly from her cunt to her gut, adding fuel to the fire there. Raven gasps, fingers digging into his shoulders as she holds on for dear life.

“So gorgeous,” Shaw whispers in a tone that seems entirely involuntary. It destroys Raven in the most exceptional way, the unabashed praise as he pounds into her again and again, hard enough to jolt her body each time.

“Please,” Raven begs, pleasure building, end just out of reach, “Just a little more.”

She doesn’t care about the pathetic tone of her whimpers, because Shaw nods, breathing heavy, and he obliges. He hikes up Raven’s other leg, bodily lifting her and holding her up in a devastating display of strength. It’s only his hands on her thighs and her back against the wall keeping her up, and it makes Raven clench around him involuntarily. The tension in her body combined with the deep angle is phenomenal, and Raven feels her orgasm cresting in record time.

“Oh god, Shaw!” Raven calls his name as she climaxes, clenching even harder around him as waves of pleasure crash over her. It’s one of the most intense orgasms of her life, and Raven’s pretty sure she forgets how to breathe about halfway through.

Shaw continues to fuck her through it, but he only last a few more thrusts after she comes down from her high. His hips stutter against her and he moans, hot and heavy against her neck. His fingers flex on the meat of her thighs, and Raven is definitely going to remember the sound of him cumming when she looks at those bruises tomorrow.

Shaw gently lowers Raven’s legs as he pulls out of her, leaving her feeling far too empty. But she’s quickly distracted from the empty ache by her knees nearly buckling under her. Shaw catches her before she can fall, and Raven drops her head against his chest, laughing breathlessly.

“So, uh, it’s been a pleasure meeting you,” Raven jokes as she figures out how to stand again. Shaw gives her a moment to steady her legs before releasing her to dispose of the condom, laughing with her.

“Yeah, pleasure’s definitely the right word. Maybe we could meet again, sometime?” Shaw asks, looking so incredibly sweet and hopeful as he does his pants and belt up again. Raven pulls her panties and dress back in order, then presses a light kiss to his lips.

“Anytime,” Raven promises.