#i finished labwork early | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

anxiouspregnantlady · 7 months

Text

hello again

Hi. Um, yeah, I'm pregnant.

I had the miscarriage around Christmas and then a period towards the end of Jan. We weren't originally planning to try that cycle, but had a halfhearted change of heart, kind of "eh", when I realized I was about to ovulate.

This month has been so full of craziness (sickness all around, k's job interviews, me consolidating jobs), I didn't think too too much about the possibility of being pregnant. Obviously I didn't not think about it, but it wasn't top of mind. I had labs drawn around 7dpo because I wanted to check my testosterone & DHEA-S levels (really low, but double what it used to be) to see if I should continue my supplements. Other labs confirmed I'd ovulated.

I was expecting my period on a Saturday, and on Friday night I thought I saw the faintest of faint pink, or peachy orange really, when I wiped. We discussed the possibility of calling our fertility clinic on Monday to do an out-of-pocket IUI cycle.

But then Saturday came and went and I had no bleeding. Sunday came and went - still no bleeding. By Sunday I was started to get a bit nauseous and I had all my weird pregnancy symptoms: sore boobs, burping nonstop, acid reflux. I think I was hesitant to test because I just couldn't believe it would be positive, and a good positive at that. I've never had the "classic" experience of girl misses period, girl takes test, test is blazing positive, happily ever after. I'm either testing out my trigger or testing after the bloodwork results are out lol. Or testing negative, or testing really really faint for a chemical pregnancy.

K made me test. I took the cheapie strip pictured the minute we put P to bed. Lo and behold. Instant strong positive. We were SO HAPPY :) I was shaking and crying a lot - could hardly believe it. I didn't even know I could have a proper pregnancy unassisted, let alone so quickly. This was 18dpo. I sprung (as I do) into action and purchased a $28 hcg blood test for the next day (got a 20% discount coupon, too).

I think I was really, really happy for about 24-36 hours. Other than the fact that the test looked so nice and dark, I couldn't really explain it. I was surprised that anxiety hadn't shown up for a full day. I did my labwork the next day, plus the FRER, which bummed me out a little because I'd hoped it would be a bit more dramatic, but it was still a good test line.

On Tuesday I went for acupuncuture. I was a little nervous to tell my acupuncturist because she'd told me to wait 6 months to try. But she was so happy for me, and I teared up a little bit. She told me in her merry way that it was a boy (lol) based on my pulse. At this point I was pretty nauseous, could barely eat two bites of my croissant that morning. When I finished my appointment I got in the car and saw that my labwork results were in. It took forever to load and I couldn't find the result on the pdf report. And then I finally saw that it was 1,361 (at 19dpo), and I got really happy again. Called Karl ecstatically. This is so much higher than it was last go-around - 289 at 18dpo - and about the same as with Phillipa, 981 at 18dpo.

Thursday I had a telehealth appointment with my midwife Lisa, who literally just did an endometrial biopsy for me 3 weeks ago. She was also so happy to see me. She gave me a script for an ultrasound and encouraged me to come in earlier for my first appointment if I wanted to.

Today is Friday. I've made my ultrasound appointment - first available one that I can plausibly go to is March 19th - which is a full week later than I was hoping. I'll be 7w6d, or almost 8w.

Today I'm 5w2d. I feel TERRIBLE. I'm surprised by the exhaustion. I cannot stay awake. I can barely get through work, or driving, or anything really. I am nauseous, more powerfully so than last time, but not throwing up yet. It's early days. Those are probably the main two. Oh hang on, headaches. Bleaugh. Those have been pretty bad.

Overall, my strategy is NO REDDIT and PRESUME ALL IS WELL.

I am also very thirsty / drinking a lot of water + electrolytes. So far I can drink bone broth. K bought me a giant thing of cape cod salt and vinegar chips - THE BEST.

Interestingly, I have no desire to partake in my bumpers group this time. It all feels really tired. Like, I've seen it all before, it's kind of annoying.

I am focusing on being kind of SELFISH and making sure i get the rest and support i need. I am also trying to skate by at work, which has been such a struggle.

OK, getting way too tired from writing this. Going to nap before I have to pick P.

0 notes

hermannsthumb · 6 years

Note

PLEASE if u have time n ideas.,, expand on the greaser au in the good name of all gay people with daddy issues,

im so enamored with this au and i want to be distracted from papers. of course. heres some more. 1st part of ficlet here….when i finish up my longer fic projects and have some time im gonna make a whole long cohesive AU fic on ao3 hehe

Hermann’s job at the campus library is largely uneventful–a few hours a week filing cards, stamping books, and glaring at people who get too noisy–and hardly anyone knows he works there, so needless to say he’s surprised when one of his co-workers informs him he has a visitor asking after him at the front desk. He’s less surprised when he makes it to the desk and he sees just exactly who it is lounging against it, grimy and slouching and playing with a rubber stamp. He doesn’t look up, not until Hermann sidles back over to his station and clears his throat. “Can I help you?” he says.

Newton tosses the stamp back down and leans against the desk, propping his chin up on his hands and gazing up at Hermann. “Hiya,” he says. “What’s shaking?”

He’s never visited Hermann at work before, and they have a date planned for hardly three hours from now (the cinema, then–well, Newton’s borrowing his father’s shiny convertible for a reason, plenty of secluded spots for them to park away from prying eyes), so Hermann can’t imagine why he’s here. He’s wildly conspicuous, too; mud caked on his boots, leather jacket flung over his shoulder, grease smears on his arms. Like he’s just come from his garage laboratory, or from working on his bike. “Do you need something, Newton?” Hermann says, then frowns. “Do you need to reschedule for tonight?”

“Nah,” Newton says. He reaches out and smooths his hand over Hermann’s lapels. Hermann feels himself grow warm (though, privately, worries about grease stains). “Can’t I just visit my guy at work?” Newton says. He smiles flirtatiously, but Hermann is immune to all his charms at this point. Newton turned the same look on him last week with a sheepish “sorry, honey,” when he accidentally smashed his (borrowed) convertible into Hermann’s mailbox (though Hermann truthfully relished in his father’s fury over the incident and subsequent denouncing of Hermann’s no-good scoundrel of a boyfriend) and the week before when he spilled chemicals all over Hermann’s lab notebook.

Hermann slides the stamp back over to himself. “Not unless you’re checking something out,” he says.

Newton touches his lapel again. “Can I check you out, sweetheart?” He winks. Hermann snorts derisively before he can help himself; Newton’s flirtatiousness simply melts away into a genuine broad grin. “I just missed you, is all,” he confesses. “I finished up my labwork early and wanted to swing by. Catch you in your element.” He reaches out and pokes at the bridge of Hermann’s eyeglasses before Hermann can swat him away. “You make a dreamy librarian.”

“You’re dirtying up the place,” Hermann says, and sniffs, and Newton looks down at his dirty boots and arms and shrugs.

“Whatever,” he says, but he wipes his hands off on his jeans. “So, wanna blow off early?” He inclines his head towards the exit.

There are hardly any students in the library today–it’s a Friday afternoon, after all, everyone’s gone home or back to their dormitories or out to town by now–so Hermann doubts he’ll be missed if he were to leave with Newton right now, but… “I’ve still got another few hours to go,” he sighs.

“In that case,” Newton says, “I could really use some help finding a book.”

“This is a terrible idea,” Hermann gasps, as Newton brackets his arms on either side of Hermann’s head, gripping tight to the bookshelf Hermann’s pushed up against and nuzzling at his neck. They’re in a secluded section of the library, the back room, empty even on days when the library’s packed. Hermann feigned needing to put some books away, and Newton followed eagerly on his heels and started kissing him the moment they were out of eyesight. “We’ll be caught, oh–”

“If you keep talking, we will,” Newton says. “Lemme concentrate, I’m trying to give you a hickey.” He nips at the skin just above Hermann’s high collar. The first couple times Newton’d given him hickeys, it was solely in the name of infuriating Hermann’s father (his son, running around like that with those, from someone like Geiszler) before they realized they both quite enjoy the experience.

Nevertheless, Hermann refuses to sport any during his work shift. “Don’t you dare,” he says, but when Newton starts to suck over his love bite, Hermann drops his cane and clings to the front of Newton’s filthy shirt. “Fine,” he gasps, “fine, oh–” Newton sucks a little harder; Hermann gives a breathless little giggle and tilts his head back. “Newton–”

“Gottlieb?” Hermann’s co-worker calls, and–before he and Newton can spring apart–the girl is poking her head round the corner and peering down the stacks straight at them. She immediately flushes deep with embarrassment and stares at the ground. “Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean–we just need you at the desk, is all.” She turns on her heels.

Red and mortified, Hermann pushes Newton off of him and fixes his sweatervest while a far too amused Newton gathers up his leather jacket, Hermann’s cane, and a few books they’ve knocked off the shelf. “Thank you,” Hermann says, snatching his cane and, after a moment’s consideration, the books too. His neck stings somewhat. Newton must’ve been successful in his endeavor. “I should–well.” He watches Newton fix his hair, that one little curl still falling forward. “I should get back to the desk.”

“Yeah, okay.” Newton stretches up on the tips of his boots and gives Hermann a quick peck on the lips, and Hermann’s heart flutters. “See you tonight, sugar.”

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #greaser newt goode..........#wlw-mac #greaser newt au

143 notes · View notes

fanforthefics · 6 years

Note

3. Sidgeno

3. teacher/student au, or:

The Class of the Magi

Sid gets out of bed early, like he always does. It is, maybe, hard to leave the warmth of the bed, but he’s been doing his early morning workouts for years now and he’s not going to stop now.

So he wakes up early, rolls out of bed, and goes for a run. It’s the best sort of wake up there is, he’s always thought, getting his muscles moving, watching the town wake up.

Then he gets back, downs about a bottle of gatorade, and jogs back into the bedroom, where the lump on the bed still hasn’t moved.

“Hey.” Sid leans down, shakes his shoulder. “Wake up.”

Geno rolls over, gives Sid a baleful look. “Nyet.”

Sid grins at him. His hair’s all messy, and he looks so grumpy, and Sid loves him a lot. “It’s time to get up.”

“Time for crazy person to get up,” Geno mutters, and tugs the blankets up. Sid catches them. He’s all sweaty so he doesn’t really want to properly straddle Geno like he’d like to, so instead he just leans down closer.

“I’m going to go shower.”

“Good, can sleep more.” Geno shuts his eyes again.

“You could join me.” One of Geno’s eyes open. Sid smirks. “I’m just back from my run.”

Geno’s other eye opens. Sid doesn’t bother looking innocent. Sid knows, and Geno knows he knows, just how much he likes peeling Sid out of his workout clothes. Sid doesn’t really get it–he’s gross and sweaty, it’s not particularly attractive–but Geno’s into it, and it gives Sid even more motivation to work out, so everyone wins, and Sid’s not going to not take advantage of it.

“Evil, Sid,” Geno tells him, and then he grabs Sid’s t-shirt and pulls him down as he rolls, so Sid ends up on his back with Geno on top of him, glaring down in a way that would be a lot more convincing if he weren’t also staring at Sid’s lips.

“Come on, Geno. I’m gross. Now we’re going to have to change the sheets,” Sid complains, also probably not convincingly. He’s got no complaints about where he is.

Now it’s Geno’s turn to smile smugly. “If we have to change anyway, might as well take advantage,” he decides, and really, he has a point.

///

They do eventually shower, and then Geno works on getting dressed as Sid goes into the kitchen to start on breakfast. They aren’t usually breakfast people–Sid’s the type to grab a protein bar or smoothie on his way out, and Geno’s the type to sleep until noon when breakfast is no longer relevant, which he claims it the prerogative of a grad student–but today, Sid thinks its worth it.

Geno wanders out of the bedroom a few minutes later, comes over to watch as Sid beats some eggs into batter. “Pancakes?” he asks, hopeful.

“First day of the new semester pancakes,” Sid agrees. “Coffee in the machine.”

“Love you,” Geno tells him, dropping a kiss to the top of his head, which always makes Sid make a face because he’s not actually short, dammit, and goes to get coffee. “We have bacon too?”

“Are you planning to make it?” Sid asks. He’s finished making the batter, so he pours a careful cup onto the griddle.

“Siiiid,” Geno whines, and comes close again to crowd against Sid’s back and nuzzle into his neck. Sid can smell the coffee on his breath, mixed with the mint of his toothpaste. “Bacon best way to celebrate first day of semester.”

“Oh it is?” Sid asks, rolling his eyes, but they both know he’s going to cave, because Geno is an unrepentant bully about shit like this and Sid has a problem saying no to him.

“Yes,” Geno informs him, and there’s a shit-eating grin in his voice even if Sid’s not going to look at him to see it. “Definitely.”

“Ugh, fine.” Sid sighs. “Go get it.”

“You best,” Geno informs him, and goes to get the bacon.

They eat at the counter, Sid shoveling in food because he’s still hungry from his run and Geno half eating and half laughing at Sid. it’s mainly in silence, because they’ve done this for almost two years now, but it’s comfortable. Easy. Sid can imagine doing it for another fifty. Even if he hasn’t actually said as much yet, because he knows he gets intense fast and it can be a lot for some people. He doesn’t think it will be for Geno, but it’s better not to risk it.

Sid’s phone buzzes halfway through beakfast, and he grabs it to check it, smiles.

“Flower and Vero are really enjoying Paris, it looks like,” Sid says, handing the phone to Geno so he can see the picture of the two of them in front of the Eiffel Tower. “Even if they’re going to the most touristy places, seriously.”

“Good that they can manage schedule like that,” Geno agrees, handing back the phone. Sid lets out a longing sigh.

“Next year,” he promises, like he has for a semester. God, he is so sick of classes. “I won’t be tied to classes anymore.”

“You want to travel, then?” Geno asks, looking at Sid’s phone with a twist to his lips.

Sid shrugs. “On two grad student’s salaries? Let’s be real. Flower swung that trip because Vero is actually gainfully employed.” He barely pauses at the brief confusion on Geno’s face. “She’s employed in a real way,” he clarifies. He’s used to that–Geno’s english is great for someone who only came to the US for his PhD, but it’s far from perfect. The little translation things like that are easy. Sid knows that it gets harder, sometimes, when they both get frustrated about their inability to communicate big ideas or what they’re feeling, but little things like this are easy.

“Okay, but–if money does not matter,” Geno insists. “You want travel? Go to Europe?”

“I mean, it’d be cool.” Sid shrugs again. “I’ve never been. I’d like to be someplace interesting, for a change.” He grins at Geno. “You could show me Russia.”

Geno’s face does the complicated twisting thing that comes up when he thinks about Russian politics, which isn’t what Sid meant to do. He knows that the mere fact of him makes life difficult for Geno, and he can’t regret it, really–he doesn’t want to be anyone other than he is, and he wouldn’t give Geno up for anything–but he doesn’t like that it’s true.

“Anyway,” Sid goes on, before Geno can think about it too much. “It’s just a pipe dream, because we’re going to be paying off student loans for the next forever, and until you discover the cure for cancer, traveling’s not in the budget.”

“How about when you become prime minister?” Geno counters, smiling again, and Sid rolls his eyes and tries not to look pleased about how much Geno believes in him.

Then he looks at the clock. “Oh, shit, I should get dressed.” he puts his plate aside, then leaves the door to the bedroom open as he pulls on jeans. “Are you in the lab until late?”

“No, can be home by seven,” Geno calls back. “Library?”

“I’ve got class until three.” Sid grabs a plain grey t-shirt and tugs it on, then comes back out into the living room, scooping up his computer and the notebook it’s sitting on so he can shove it into a bag. “Then yeah, I’ll be in the library. Text about dinner?“

“Good,” Geno agrees, and catches Sid by the arm to reel him in before he goes to put his shoes on. Sid lets him draw him in, then kiss him, long and slow. “Happy first day of semester,” he says, and Sid grins back at him.

“Happy first day of the semester,” he agrees, and heads to his first class.

He has a seminar on Intellectualism and Democracy in Post-War North America first, and then he grabs lunch on his way to his next class. He settles in near the back–it’s more of an undergrad class, even if he spots a few other grad students he knows around–and opens up his computer to take notes on. Geno’s texted, proposing Indian for dinner; Sid agrees, but only if Geno picks it up from the good place that doesn’t deliver.

The professor starts talking about the syllabus, and Sid glances up, sees him–a man probably ten years older than Sid, with blonde hair that’s thinning in a way that Sid associates with Russians, even if he will never ever tell Geno that–then looks back down at his computer. He has emails about the grad student hockey league to field, and his advisor’s starting to push him on really narrowing down a topic for his thesis.

“And also here with us are our two teaching assistants,” Professor Gonchar goes on. Sid tunes in with half an ear–they’ll be doing grading, have office hours, Sid knows how that works– “Natasya Ivanov, and Evgeni–” Sid looks up, eyes wide. And yes, there he is–Sid would know him from miles away at this point. “Malkin.”

Geno looks out at the students, and Sid can tell the moment he meets Sid’s eyes, because he is clearly feeling the same as Sid–oh, shit.

///

“Fuck.”

“Yes,” Geno agrees. They’re standing in the hall outside the class–thankfully, no one had given them second looks as everyone else left class, probably because no one knew either of them yet. Geno leans against the wall.

“What are we going to do?”

“Maybe I’m not grade anything of yours. Not a problem.”

“That’s not a solution!” Sid hisses. “Why didn’t you check the roster before class?”

Geno rolls his eyes. “I’m think only undergrads take Introduction to Russian.”

“Why are you even TAing a Russian class?” Sid demands, because that’s easier than freaking out completely. “You have a full schedule, with your other TAing and your labwork.”

“I fit it in,” Geno says, but he’s looking shifty.

“Geno.”

“I want little more cash, fine.” Geno crosses his arms over his chest looking sulky like he always does when he’s forced to admit something he didn’t want to. “Why you in the class?”

Sid focuses on Geno’s face. “I need it for my thesis.”

“If you want learn Russian, I teach.”

Now Sid rolls his eyes. “Geno, the Russian you teach me is not something I can use in my thesis.”

Geno’s smile flashes. Whatever, maybe Sid’s getting conditioned to hearing certain Russian phrases in bed, and maybe it really works for him. That’s not relevant right now. “We can’t both be doing this. It violates–some code of conduct. And looks really bad for both of us, if it gets out. You’ll have to back out of TAing. Can you find someone else to do it?”

“I’m not back out!” Geno protests.

“You don’t need the money–”

“Why you not drop class?”

“I need it for my thesis!”

“Your thesis on Canada and US, not Russia! It not relevant. Can drop.”

“My schedule’s set for the semester, if I drop it now it’ll mess everything up–”

“So I have to mess everything up?” Geno demands, straightening up to his full height so he can loom. Sid is very into it when he does that to be sexy, but not when he does that to intimidate. Especially because Sid has plenty of muscle on him. “Why not you?”

“It’d be easier for you–”

“I’m make commitment, Sid!”

“I can’t change my schedule, Geno!” Sid snaps back, and then they’re both glaring, breath coming hard.

Geno breaks first, and by breaking it means literally breaking into a torrent of angry Russian. “You so fucking stubborn,” he spits at Sid, who glares back. That’s not a surprise to anyone.

“No duh,” Sid retorts, which he knows as soon as he says it is the wrong thing to say, because Geno hates people condescending to him more than anything.

“I’m not drop class,” he tells Sid, and stalks off down the hall.

“Fine!” Sid yells back. “You can be the one violating policy.”

“Fine!” Geno yells over his shoulder, and Sid doesn’t wait to hear more before storming out the other way.

///

Sid spends an angry afternoon in the library, trying to do reading and getting distracted trying to find the university policy for this. He can’t seem to find anything–there are policies for undergrads, and for professors and their grad students, but nothing for two grad students who are in a preestablished romantic relationship who end up being in and TAing the same class. Sid doesn’t get it. They can’t be the first people in this situation.

Finally, he gives it up for lost, and goes home. Geno clearly hasn’t been back to the apartment since he left this morning–the dishes are done from breakfast but the griddle is still soaking in the sink, and there’s still the pile of clothes on the bed that Geno always goes through before he chooses an outfit that he usually ends up putting away when he gets back, if Sid hasn’t done it first.

Sid has gotten here first, so he puts the clothes away this time. They’re all so ugly, Sid thinks, fondly. He does not get Geno’s aesthetic at all.

“I can do,” Geno says, when Sid’s mostly done. Sid looks up. Geno’s leaning on the doorframe, watching Sid warily. His taste is so bad, but Sid could still look at him forever. “Was going to.”

“I got home first, it’s fine.” Sid hangs up the last shirt. “There, done.”

“I pick up dinner,” Geno tells him, a clear peace offering. Sid nods.

They set dinner out on the coffee table, pushing aside the assorted books that usually cover it, and dish out their usual orders. Sid takes a bite. It really is good. And it’s out of Geno’s way. And he can feel Geno watching him, wary and sidelong.

“I just don’t know how to make this right,” Sid says, setting his fork down. “I’ve been looking all afternoon, and I honestly can’t tell if it’s a violation, but I don’t want anything to smear your reputation, and this could look really bad.”

“I know.” Geno sets his fork down too. “Sid, why you want take Russian class? Not for thesis.”

“I–” Sid glances down at his plate, but it’s Geno. He trusts Geno not to be overwhelmed by him. “I just imagine this lasting a long time, and if it does, it’s not fair to you that I can’t speak Russian, at least a little. I want us to be able to communicate. And that means I need to learn Russian.”

“Sid,” Geno breathes, and there’s the sort of wonder in his voice he had when Sid asked him out. When Sid agreed to moving in together. Sid looks up again, and Geno’s looking at him like he’s the only thing in the world. Then he grins, breaking the moment. “Think that sweetest thing you ever said.”

“Fuck you, I can be sweet,” Sid retorts, but he knows he’s grinning stupidly too. “What about you? Why do you need the extra money so badly? I thought you were fine.”

“Am, but.” Now it’s Geno’s turn to go a little red. “You talk about travel, about how Flower and Vero go places, Tanger and Cath–I’m want to take you somewhere nice too. You work hard, deserve it. Deserve all nice things.”

“Geno,” Sid says, but he can’t help his smile. “You know I don’t care about that. I’m happy wherever you are.”

“Not mean you not deserve nice vacation,” Geno insists, stubborn. “Also, want to fuck you on beach.”

Sid snorts. “That I can get behind.”

“No, I be behind,” Geno corrects, eyes glinting, and Sid bursts into laughter.

“So, this doesn’t resolve anything, though,” Sid points out, when they’ve finished laughing and Geno’s foot is pressed agains this thigh again. “I mean, we could both drop the class, but–”

“We can ask,” Geno suggests.

“Ask?”

Geno shrugs. “If policy not clear, maybe no rule. Worst thing, Professor Gonchar says no, and we figure out then.”

Sid considers. “Can’t hurt, I guess,” he admits, and Geno grins, then takes Sid’s plate, and sets it aside.

“Fight done?”

“That was barely a fight,” Sid objects. Their fights tend to be long and passive aggressive and end in someone sleeping on a friends’ couch.

“Sid, fight done,” Geno asks again, and scoots closer. “Means we made up.”

“Oh.” Sid still doesn’t love the semantics of it, but also, “Yeah,” he agrees, and tugs Geno in for some make up sex.

///

“I don’t think it’ll be a problem.”

“What?” Sid asks. He’d expected Professor Gonchar to put up at least a little more of a fuss. “Just like that?”

“We can make sure that Natasya or I grade all your papers, and we’ll make a note that I’m aware and have agreed to it.” Professor Gonchar nods. “Neither of you are undergraduates, and from what I’ve heard from faculty, both of you are good people. That should be fine.”

“But–” Geno’s hand closes around Sid’s waist, his fingers digging in.

“Thank you,” he says in English, then adds something else in Russian. The professor chuckles.

“I’ll expect a lot from you, Sidney, if you have your own private Russian tutor,” he says, and then gives them both the sort of look that means a professor is moving on. “Anything else?”

This is too easy. Sid’s still not sure this is right. “Professor–”

“No,” Geno interrupts, and pinches Sid, hard enough that he has to work not to jump. “Is all. Thank you, Professor, see you for meeting.”

Professor Gonchar is clearly trying not laugh at them, but he doesn’t say anything as they leave.

“I still don’t think it should work like that,” Sid says, as soon as the office door closes behind them. “That doesn’t seem right. I could definitely like, get you to tell me test answers, or–”

“Sid–”

“Or even just hints on the test, or–”

“Sid,” Geno says again, and puts a hand over his mouth. Sid shuts up, but glares. “We win. Is good.” Sid glares harder. “And if you so worries about morals, then probably not a problem.”

Sid waits for him to move his hand, then, “But other people might not be– fine, I’ll stop!” he yelps, dodging Geno’s hand.

“Good.” Geno grins. “See, no problem. Is fine. You learn Russian and we go on trip.”

“Yeah, we really worked the system,” Sid agrees, but he knows he’s pouting.

“Hmm.” Geno hums, then he glances around, and pulls Sid into an empty class room, and then in short order against the door. “You want test answers so bad? Maybe need to ask really nice.”

“What– Geno!” Sid sputters, when Geno waggles his eyebrows at him. “No, that’s creepy, we actually do teach kids.”

“I actually do teach you, now,” Geno points out, and then murmurs something in Russian that Sid has definitely heard him say before when things are getting good.

“That’s unfair,” Sid complains, but he gets his hands into Geno’s hair. “Also, we should do this at home.”

“So boring, Sid,” Geno sighs, but he steps away from Sid–or he would, if Sid let him go. Which he hasn’t.

“Yeah, but you like it,” Sid points out, grinning. He pulls at Geno’s hair until he leans down, closer to Sid. “Now what do I have to do to get a Russian lesson around here?”

“I’m give you lesson,” Geno grumbles, and then stops grumbling when Sid shuts him up with a kiss.

#pens fic #my fic #here have 3k of silly established relationship fluff #instead of the edgy power dynamics that i think you wanted #sorry :/#actual teacher/student stuff squicks me out #so have cute instead!#Anonymous #pens tumblr fic

80 notes · View notes

d3ndroica · 7 years

Text

Big Apple 8

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Friday morning, Madge headed to work with an extra spring in her step. Maybe because it was Friday and there was an afternoon holiday party at work. Or maybe because she had weekend plans with Gale. There was a constant fluttering in the pit of her stomach, half anticipation and half anxiety. In the morning she threw herself into the minutiae of lab work. She had a quick meeting over lunch confirming the expected schedule for the holidays - Madge had a few days off including Christmas. The lab’s holiday party was a casual thing starting at 2pm. Madge had finished most of her lab work in the morning, and as she checked email her mind wandered. Saturday dinner with Gale loomed in her mind. A Date! Okay, maybe a date. They hadn’t really specified, but Madge was feeling optimistic.

To help distract herself from the inevitable overthinking, Madge texted with Thom. He had been super grumpy since his show ended and she figured she could kill two birds with one stone, cheering him up and distracting herself. She convinced him she would come to his place for dinner and a movie or something. He only agreed because it was “totally gross” out and he had practically no disposable income, but at least he agreed.

The holiday party was, well, a bit awkward. Even though she’d done a few happy hours, having the bosses and other people she didn’t know put a damper on the party spirit. But there was wine and free food and a group gift exchange in which Madge scored a new travel mug and coffee shop gift card, so it wasn’t all bad.

She showed up at Thom’s after work with frozen pizza and ice cream. As usual, Thom proved to be an excellent distraction from whatever was on her mind. They watched a stupid comedy and made snarky comments through the whole thing. When the movie was over Thom switched over to Real Housewives and before Madge realized how late it was, she was half asleep on the couch, so she just stayed the night. Saturday was cold but clear. Madge was bundled up on the subway, reading a book on her way home when she got Gale’s message. She had to fish for the phone from her coat pocket and take off her gloves to unlock it. Gale 10:51am can’t make it tonight something came up sorry :(

Madge 10:54am OK. Everything OK?

Gale 10:55am Yeah OK. rain check?

Madge 10:57am Yeah np

Except, of course, it was a problem. Why, she wondered. He hadn’t explained, and she hadn’t asked, but it felt like rejection. Something came up, which could mean anything at all, or nothing. The idea of a rain check was little consolation.

Madge tried to make new plans. Well, she texted Rue about doing something, but Rue had a performance. She’d be free on Monday, so Madge agreed to meet up then. Madge also emailed Delly a sad diatribe about men being stupid, but mostly she felt like the stupid one. Ugh. So she wound up spending Saturday night doing laundry, watching Sex and the City streaming online, and getting drunk on cheap wine. She glared at her phone but did not text him. She’d decided that since he had canceled the plans she’d initiated, it was up to him to re-engage. Sunday she finished her holiday shopping. Delly called to commiserate about their lack of dating lives. That evening, Madge called her dad, catching him up on work and the city - everything except Gale. She didn’t talk about her dating life with family if she could avoid it. Her dad spent about 20 minutes describing the latest episode of Midsomer Murders he’d seen, practically scene by scene, except he kept mixing up which characters were which, so Madge was left with a bizarre muddle of people who may have been blackmailing and/or sleeping with each other.

Monday rolled around all too quickly. Madge felt forlorn, a cold dreary Monday and still nothing from Gale. She had a busy day scheduled in the lab, prepping her new cell cultures. She was determined to be sure everything was pristine this time around. As she was breaking for lunch, she ran into another lab tech, Vinayak, whom she’d chatted with at the holiday party. He was watching some viral video a student had made for their biology class about cell reproduction processes - Madge had to appreciate it, it mentioned apoptosis! She got sucked into a short conversation with him and some other coworkers about it and other biomed social media. When she finally got back to her desk she checked her phone and found a series of messages waiting. Rue had messaged with a suggestion for a dive bar to meet at before the movie. And Gale had texted. Finally. Gale 11:23am hey

Gale 11:29am you free tonight?

Madge 12:41pm Sorry :( have plans Been stuck in the lab Maybe tomorrow?

Madge sighed. The more she thought about it, she realized she was angry at him. Did he think Monday night plans were just as good as Saturday? And why was it always the same day, couldn’t he make plans a few days out, give her some warning? She hadn’t really thought about it before but now it occurred to her that he had only ever made plans on the same day with her - never in advance. She wasn’t sure if that was supposed to tell her something about him - or about her. And he was mostly MIA on weekends which seemed, if anything, not promising. The whole things left her feeling grumpy. She was happy that she had enough of a life to not be at his beck and call (not a fair accounting but whatever, she still considered herself new to the city and for once she had plans so she could at least feel good about that). She was also annoyed that she wouldn’t see him.

Still, she was determined to have fun tonight, meeting up with Rue to see the latest Wonder Woman movie. Returning to the lab after lunch, Madge struggled to get through all the steps of the day’s protocol. After a hectic afternoon, Madge managed to be only a little late meeting Rue at a dive bar, just in time to take advantage of the cheap (and weak) happy hour specials before the movie. Madge barely even had time to look at her phone. They talked about the holidays - Rue’s shows were scheduled throughout so she would be in town working through all the holidays. She asked about Madge’s work. Madge started explaining her day, but gave up when she saw Rue’s blank look. They moved onto other topics before walking to the theater. The movie was entertaining, and they made vague promises of getting together again soon before each heading home.

Gale 1:03pm tomorrow should be ok I have a meeting til 5 then free

Madge 6:20pm Sounds good. I should be able to get off early tomorrow

Gale 6:41pm U up for morningside? Could eat nearby?

Madge 10:34pm ok Any ideas? Or just meet at subway stn?

Gale 10:39pm sure just meet 116th st subway @ 6?

Madge 10:50pm Soudns good ….so I just did the thing where I turned on the computer and started scanning the exact same feeds I’ve been looking at on my phone 😩😫

Gale 10:52pm 😆 home now?

Madge 10:54pm 👣🍿🎵

Gale 10:59pm long day?

Madge 11:04pm soo long It was hard But good, you know?

Gale 11:06pm you know i said day not date right? you didn’t send a going home with someone emoji

Madge smirked at her phone.

Madge 11:07pm You think if I were with long hard & good I would be on my phone?

Gale 11:08pm well good isn’t mindblowing so it depends if you want 🍆 or 💏

Madge 11:09pm It can’t be both? (Unless you’re accusing me of ethnic cleansing bc those people are weirdly yellow)

Gale 11:09pm ok you’re alone so want to explain what was long, hard, and good for you today? inquiring minds want to know 😉

Madge 11:10pm Just another busy day curing cancer ;-)

Gale 11:11pm I heard it’s more complicated than that

Madge 11:12pm Well that’s what makes it so hard

Gale 11:14pm lol, guess i have to give you that one sounds stimulating 😎

Madge 11:16pm So - how was your day?

Gale 11:17pm well not as long or hard as yours 😉

Madge 11:18pm Well It’s not about the length of your day but what you do with it ;-)

Gale 11:20pm 🙊 I’ll try to remember that looking forward to 2moro

Madge 11:21pm Me 2 :)

Gale 11:22pm 👍

Madge hesitated, typed, it’s a date, and told herself to press send. She wavered. She wanted him to say it was a date. Why couldn’t he say that? She knew he could see that she’d been typing. She deleted the words she’d written.

Madge 11:25pm my long day is catching up with me See you tomorrow

Gale 11:26pm goodnight Madge set down her phone and thought about what she would wear the next day. She took a shower, washed and dried her hair. She pulled on comfy flannel pajamas and laid down for bed. And laid there. Awake.

Madge 12:13am Hi

Thom 12:15am Yo

Madge 12:16am Seeing GH tomorrow

Thom 12:17am 👍🔥 r u 2 DTF

Madge 12:18am NO We’re not even dating

Thom 12:19am nedn fuck him then u’ll know

Madge 12:21am Can you be serious for one minute? We’re supposed to go to morningside park Is that a terrible idea?

Thom 12:22am u rly worried?

Madge 12:23am I barely know him and we’re going for a nighttime stroll in a strange park. If this were a horror movie I’d be saying how dumb I was

Thom 12:24am STOP UR NOT IN A MOVIE anw he’s mr consent 100% ggg

Madge laughed out loud at that - mostly at herself. She didn’t even know where that had come from but Thom as usual managed to calm her while bordering on TMI.

Madge 12:25am lol Sorry

Thom 12:26am npgf now go 2 bed b ;)

Tuesday morning she opted for a shorter workout than usual, allowing some extra time to prepare for that night. She could not even pretend she thought this was going to be casual. She was still a little annoyed at him, but having a little advance warning was better than none. She could at least pick out her outfit knowing she’d see him.

She wondered what would happen. She knew she could be in for a big disappointment, but she couldn’t help hope. As distracted as she was, work was helpful for keeping her occupied. She was still determined to get the labwork right. She managed to push most of the thoughts of Gale to the side as she peered into her microscope to observe her lab cultures.

They sent a few texts midday, not much more than confirming the night’s plans. Before she knew where the time had gone, it was 6pm and she was packed with a thousand other strangers on the train, protecting her small allotment of breathing room from the other jostling passengers, speeding towards … something. She came through the turnstiles and he was there. Leaning on the wall, head bent down toward his phone, his eyes were skimming the turnstiles. For her. Her heart beat a little faster. How long had it been? He looked good. He was clean shaven; he wore a beanie with a Knicks logo pulled down low over his head.

Was this happening? She ran her fingers through her hair and walked over. Gale smiled when he saw her and tucked his phone into a pocket. His “hi” was warm. Madge’s mind chased the question whether it was a friendly warm or something more. If she had been hoping for time to stop, it didn’t - their eyes met for a moment and then suddenly he was adjusting his scarf and leading her toward the subway exit far too quickly.

She had done a cursory web search to see what food was nearby. Maybe Gale had too, or maybe he just knew the neighborhood. As they left the station he said, “Well, there’s seafood, a beer garden, or middle eastern right on the corner. There’s other stuff nearby. What are you in the mood for?”

“How about middle eastern?” she suggested. “I haven’t had a good falafel in ages.” Madge had already checked out their website.

“Falafel?” From his dubious tone, she guessed it wasn’t what he’d expected her to choose.

“Is that okay?” She quirked up an eyebrow and looked at him. She had assumed he would be okay with his own list.

“Sure,” he agreed, seeming amused.

They quickly spotted the middle eastern cafe across the street, with a cute storefront. Gale took that extra stride as they approached the door and held it open for her. As he stepped through after her, Madge rubbed her hands in the warmth of the cafe.

They were led to a small table along the wall, and quickly shed their coats and scarves. They sat, Madge facing the inner restaurant and Gale facing the window, coats draped over chairs. Sitting across from each other, Gale asked Madge about her day. Whether real or imagined, the gleam in his eye led her thoughts directly to the long and hard convo … Shit, was he trying to be dirty or was it just her? It was going to be harder to keep her head clear with him right here in front of her. Madge saw the waiter coming to fill their water glasses and opened her menu as if to remind herself where they were. She was sure her cheeks flushed as she rambled something about her workday. When she asked about his day, Gale talked briefly about work, about working through bugs in their code, and a customer who kept changing their priorities.

The menu choices looked pretty standard by Madge’s experience. They decided to share the appetizer sampler which included hummus, baba ghanoush, grape leaves and the like. Madge added falafel; Gale picked chicken shawarma. It wasn’t long before they’d put in their order with the young waiter.

Soon after the drinks arrived Gale asked, “So when are you going home for Christmas?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah,” she said. “Not til next week, my flight is Tuesday. I hope the weather doesn’t mess up my flights or anything. I’m just going for a few days - visit my dad and see a few friends. You?”

Gale shook his head. “Still need to get tickets. I’m going, I just don’t know the details yet.”

“Really? Isn’t it kind of late for that?”

“Well, I’m just catching a train. I’ll figure it out this week.”

Madge shook her head, amazed at how cavalier he was about leaving Christmas travel details to the last minute. “What about work?” she asked. As odd as it seemed, he had to know what he was doing; unlike her, he had done this before. He had lived here a lot longer than her.

“I took some time off,” he shrugged. “And i can work remotely if i need to.”

“Must be nice,” she answered.

Talking about Christmas plans led to talking about family. Gale talked about his more than she expected - two college aged brothers she had trouble keeping straight, and a twelve year old sister. He seemed extremely protective and fond of them. The waiter came and went, bringing appetizers and main courses. Gale asked about her family and hometown, things she usually didn’t talk much about.

She told him about her dad’s obsession with British crime dramas. ”We always watch a few when I’m home, except half the time he falls asleep in the middle, so I don’t know what the point is,” she laughed.

One side of Gale’s mouth twisted up in a half smile and their gazes held. “What do you do if he falls asleep?” He popped the last stuffed grape leaf into his mouth.

Madge shrugged. “I still watch it. I mean, by then I’m usually hooked anyway.”

“Are you sure he’s the one who’s obsessed?” he asked with a smirk.

They dawdled over the last crumbs on their plates until Madge asked the passing waiter for the bill. Turning back to Gale she asked, “So how far is Morningside from here?”

“A couple blocks. But we don’t have to go tonight,” Gale hedged.

“No I want to,” Madge countered. “I mean, that was the plan right? And a walk would be nice.”

“Okay, then,” Gale agreed, but he didn’t seem as enthusiastic as Madge had expected. A little doubt worried her thoughts.

After Madge paid the bill, they pulled their coats on and headed for the street. “Thanks for dinner,” Gale said.

“Well I did owe you,” she answered. “But you’re welcome.”

Outside the sky was that strange shade of purple caused by orange city lights reflecting off the dark clouds overhead. The streetlights lit their way down 116th street to the park. Madge shivered against the cold and pulled her gloves on as they walked.

“We could do the park another time,” Gale offered. “If it’s too cold.”

“Shut up,” Madge said, eyeing the darkness ahead of them. “I’ll be fine once we’re walking.”

Other than her toes, because her boots that could both look good and can handle walking were not well insulated, and her nose, she did warm quickly. She kept her hands in her pockets,mostly because Gale’s hands were in his pockets. Now that they were on their way, Gale seemed relaxed.

As they approached the park, Madge’s uncertainty grew. She felt her awareness of the dark shadows ramping up and her heartbeat picking up the pace.

“Do you do this a lot?” she asked.

“No,” he admitted with a grin. A jogger with a dog passed by.

“I’m all for trying new things but are you sure this is safe? Because it seems kinda crazy. And I would really like to not wake up dead in a ditch somewhere tomorrow.”

“Trust me, we’ll be fine,” he shrugged off her concern. “Give it a chance and if you want to leave, just say so and we’ll leave. Buddy system, remember?” On her own, Madge thought the buddy system sounded awfully platonic, but somehow he made it sound flirtatious.

“Right,” she said.

There weren’t many people around, just a few figures here and there who all appeared to be on their way somewhere. Gale headed to the left when they entered the park. There were street lamps here and there providing pools of light enough to follow the path easily. You could see the buildings on either side of the park, the ones to the west towering over them from the top of a steep and tree-covered hillside. They walked together past the dog run where a few stragglers were still chasing each other. Their owners stood off to one side, chatting to pass the time while watching the dogs. Gale raised an arm in a friendly gesture; one of the dog walkers reciprocated. When they reached a fork in the path, they turned further into the park and north again.

Other than being dark off the path, the park seemed fairly innocuous. Madge’s nerves began to calm down. “So is this your favorite park?” she asked.

Gale shook his head. “Nah. It’s too small. But I like it. It feels homey.”

“Homey?” Madge was dubious.

“Well, yeah. You’ve got playgrounds and b-ball hoops, baseball fields, the dog walk. You’ll have to see it in the daylight sometime,” Gale said.

Madge pursed her lips, annoyed.

Gale must have realized it. “Sorry I bailed on Saturday,” he said quietly.

“Uh-huh,” Madge replied, noncommittal. The silence stretched between them as she debated whether to ask more. Her mouth was dry. “So … what happened?”

With a rueful sigh Gale answered, “um, well. It’s not a good story. My roommate Jimmy had stomach flu last week. As in, literally immediately after we talked about getting together, he starts puking his guts out. And doesn’t stop. I was kind of hoping it was just food poisoning or something. But then it hit Carlo on Saturday morning. I figured I was next.”

“Oh,” Madge said, wrinkling her nose and, to be honest, trying not to laugh.

“It wasn’t pretty,” he added. “I basically spent the weekend watching sports in my room and cleaning everything in the apartment. I figured if we came Saturday I’d ruin it by getting sick. Or something. It didn’t matter - I never got sick, but still - guess I got lucky. They’re both fine now, anyway.”

“Oh, that’s good,” she agreed. “So ... um. Why didn’t you say so?”

“Sorry,” he sighed. “It’s not exactly, you know, a pleasant image. I was going to email you … but I don’t have your email. So that plan kinda fell apart.”

“Oh,” she said. “Well I’m glad you’re okay. And at least we’re here now.” She was mostly relieved that it was a decent reason. Still, if she had only known, the last few days would have been easier, at least. But, complaining now seemed silly -she felt immature, and didn’t want him to know she’d felt so insecure and jealous over it. She had no right to feel those things.

“Yeah, we are,” Gale agreed, his mouth curving into a smile as he looked back at her - she hadn’t even realized she’d slowed down. He reached out a hand to her. “C’mon, then.” She took it, feeling his heat through the fingers of her gloves.

Up ahead there was water on their left, between the hillside - no, the cliff - and the path. Madge eyed the water as they walked. She joked, “My roommate knows where I am and who I’m with. So, you know, you can forget about any plans you had to slash my throat and toss my body in the water.” The cliff face across the water looked imposing in the dark, a hulking shadow.

“What?” Gale shook his head. “Wow that would make me the worst buddy ever.”

“I’m just saying, logically, it’s a bad idea,” she argued, trying to sound matter of fact.

“Oh, thanks,” Gale answered. “Is that supposed to make me feel better? I think you’ve been watching too many crime dramas with your dad. And come on, Slash your throat? Seems unnecessarily messy.”

She laughed.

“Besides this is no place to dump a body. It’s not THAT remote,” he scoffed.

“Oh, thanks, that’s comforting,” she answered, still laughing.

“Well when you said you were afraid to go in city parks alone in the dark I had no idea you would accuse me of being a knife-wielding maniac.”

“I never said maniac,” she protested.

“It was implied. If you can’t trust your buddy who can you trust?”

“I trust you,” She grumbled. “But -”

“But what?”

“You want to talk about implications, how about this? What are the implications of me being alone with you in a strange park at night. I want to see the park and I’m sure it’s great but it’s really not why I’m here. If you want to be buddies that’s fine, but -”

He cut her off, saying, “I thought it would be romantic.”

“What?”

“The park. I thought it would be romantic. A walk through the park, moonlight, holding hands.“

Madge stepped in close. She tilted her face to his and kissed him. Her lips moved against his, soft and slow. He responded, and she felt his arms wrap around her.

She smiled against his lips.

“Romantic, huh?”

#gadge #nyc-verse #my-fanfic #my fanfic #gadge fanfic

9 notes · View notes

tyuumasterrace-blog · 7 years

Text

Warmth in the snow

///(((not cannon. Just good smut )))\\\

Jordame bitches.

Damiens pov:

Everyone left the labworks except my loving assistant and I. Lol I call him my assistant but he hates it.

" hey dame its getting pretty dark out i think we should start heading home" he sounded anxious. I sit up from my work area and pull off my goggles " sure , i'll finish this tomorrow" "pfff- " Jordan starts laughing that adorable laugh of his .

" what?" " n-nothing! " his snickering is just too adorable " excuse you Mr woodpecker what is so funny to you?" . he gets up and grabs a rag " dame you have ash all over your face, you look like a reverse raccoon, hold still-".

"Nnnnoooooo!!" I try and resist as he struggles to wipe my face ( somewhat) clean. "Fine then!" he tossed the rag aside and put his fists on his hips. " you can take a shower at home" he promptly collected his things in his bag and head out the door in a puff.

Zoo wee mama what a feisty redhead!

Oh wait- outside crap I can't leave without him!

//time skip \\

Jordan's pov :

When we got home it had already started snowing, and by the time I started dinner we already had 4 inches.

"Hey babe" Damien called out from another room." babe!" ....oh shoot hes talking to me - I forget that im in a relationship half the time and that pet names are apart of it.

" yeah?!" I call back. Just then Damien comes into the kitchen hair soaked, shirtless, and a pair of loose fitting pajama bottoms that hung very low on his hips " have you seen the TV remote?" .

I don't even know what to say ! Holy molly say something you idiot...." I ...uh... Ceiling?"

Oh c'mon is that the best you can do?! This is your boyfriend!. " nah its not there I checked... Ill check the fridge wouldn't be the first time I left something non edible in there~"

God donut Damien....

//another time ski bc im lazy\\

3rd pov:

After dinner the both of them played out in Damiens big soft bed.

The house had become so cold all of the sudden and the snow outside want helping. The two of them cuddled up to one another underneath a heavy blanket as the TV played something about Hitler invading Poland.

Jordan shivered and buried his face in his boyfriends chest " something wrong woodpecker? " Damien asked . " im freezing my butt off!" Jordan exclaimed.

" oh...uh.. I could go get another blanket" Damien sat up but Jordan pulled his back down by the fabric of his shirt. " actually...I've got a better idea of how we could keep warm~".

Jordan's face turned as bright red as his hair " if your not too tired I mean..." he looked away embarrassed.

Damien smirked , a light shade of pink coloring his skin " you know if you wanted to do anything you could gave just asked ".

Jordan snapped back " oh shush! Im not use to these things..." laughing Damien took Jordan's hands and put them above his head " cmere cutie~".

Slowly pulling up his shirt dame b-lined straight for Jordan's beautiful place freaked neck . licking here and there . enough to make the smaller male tremble a bit.

Then came the biting~

He traveled all the way across his collar bone leaving a trail of kisses and licks until the smaller male stiffened up- bingo- dame bit lightly and first and then got harder and harder until he tasted blood . Jordan let out the shrillest of yelps.

Music to his ears. He moved down the red heads body and down to his thighs ,Spread open beautifully Jordan whimpered like a defenseless animal when Damien started to kiss and bite at his inner thighs. In Damiens mind Jordan was the most gorgeous thing in the world to him watching him at his weakest point made him fall in love with him more and more.

Dame noticed a small bulge poking out of Jordan's briefs " so cute ~" . Jordan couldn't help it " damie~ please~ " oh god he' d done it now a nickname said in that kind of tone .

Damien pulled of Jordan's boxers and took the smaller males cock in his hands. Jordan's head fell back . he covered his mouth to resist the urge to moan out his lovers name.

Damien noticed this and went faster jerking himself in the process. " alright " Damien said in a huff. He picked Jordan's legs up and pulled one of them over his shoulder while the poured lube ( don't ask where he got it its Damien ) onto his hands.

Jordan sat up to see at a better angle " brace yourself sweetheart~" Damien said in a deep seductive voice. If Jordan could blush anymore you think had be a tomato.

It felt weirdly relaxing when dame inserted one cold slippery finger in , a little less relaxed when put in the second Making a scissoring motion with his fingers.

"A-ah d-dame I- I think that's enough...." Jordan really was trying hard to keep the best moss for last. "Alright" he lined himself up with the smaller males hole and slicked up his cock enough.

" get ready baby" he slowly pushed himself in . Sinking every inch that he could into Jordan . he was tight - and very hot on the inside.

The smaller male winced, sometimes he forgets how big his boyfriend actually is. Dame starts slow , just to get Jordan use to it. Then he slowly starts to pick up the pace.

Jordan couldn't suppress it any longer. A symphony on moans, yelps , and whimpers came out. Harder and harder faster and faster Damien thrusted again and again .

His mind was blank as he left his body do the talking. The physical and emotional signals his lover was putting out was good but he needed to find that one spot.

Twenty minutes pass and they are still going. Dame has learned enough to where he can go on and on for a few rounds .but Jordan looks like he'd come at any moment. All of the sudden as dame thrust into him Jordan tenses up and moans out his name in a shaky voice- " D-DAMIE~ F-FUCK ...R-RIGHT THERE!~".

And bingo was his namo! Snapping back to reality he adjusted to only hit that certain spot ,Pounding his boyfriend ad hard as he can ( without breaking him o_o").

Jordan pulled him closer . wrapping his arms around his neck , tears of pleasure had started to form from his eyes. every thrust sent Jordan to cloud9.

Dame grunted and held onto Jordan closely. He took this as a sign of dame either being very close to climaxing, or hes just tired

Lets go with the latter. Jordan sunk his teeth into Damiens neck as Damien gave his last final hard thrusts " ah, Jordan ..im...*grunt * gonna cum-".

" go ahead" Jordan wasnt far behind hes been holding back dame wouldn't make fun of him for Cumming early like last time-.

With One final hard thrust they both came came. Filling his redheaded lover to the brim, making him feel quite full.

" ah... C-crap " Jordan's legs where shaking and he himself was jittering. It felt so good to be files up like that.. As much as he hated to think such thoughts...

Damien slowly pulled out and collapsed next to jordan who, was still shaking . the brightest shade of red painted his pale freckled cheeks .

Dame pulled him closer to his chest " warm enough sweetheart?" " oh shush you..." Jordan pecked dame on the lips as he pulled the big heavy blanket over them both.

They both slept soundly ... And warmly.

THE END GO HOME KIDS

(Admin zeke)

5 notes · View notes

ann-beth · 4 years

Text

Sometimes, the smallest things can remind you how much an utter coward you are

((Context: needed to take some stuff for tmr from my toolbox - where my anatomy prop skull is resting, untouched since 2019. It wouldn't fit back to I had to shuffle the bones a bit. So I opened the bag and got hit with a strike of fear for no goddamn reason, just seeing the sutures.))

#college stuff #-you can see the skull in talking about in the FIRST post i used that tag.#i nned to go tmr to college to finish up some labwork before the exams.#200624 #.... technically 200625 early-morning

0 notes

robininthelabyrinth · 8 years

Text

Summer in the City - 4 (Flashwave)

Fic: Summer in the City - Chapter 4 (AO3 Link) Fandom: The Flash Pairing: Mick Rory/Barry Allen

Summary: Barry Allen is a good CSI, but this whole stupid Heatwave serial killer thing is just killing him.

Or, you know, people around him.

Luckily for him, he’s always got Mick to complain to…

—————————————————————————————————

"No surprise, absolutely nothing from Palmer Tech other than the small sample of the alloy he gave us," Barry tells Joe. "Industrial strength cleaner is a thing to be feared by us all."

Joe nods, looking unsurprised. He knows the drill. "So, nothing then?"

"Well," Barry says reluctantly. "There is one thing."

Ray was super nice, and Barry can't possibly imagine what he might have to do with a serial killer or whatever weird thing is going on here in regards to these thefts, but he feels he has to mention any oddities. It's his job. Joe's job is figuring out how all those oddities came together in a way that made sense.

"Oh?"

"Yeah," Barry says. "I found absolutely nothing."

"You just said that," Joe points out.

"No," Barry says patiently. "Absolutely nothing."

Joe pauses. "I thought you said that was because of the cleaner?"

"It is," Barry says. "But there's finding nothing relevant or useful, and then there's finding nothing at all."

"Wait, you found nothing at all?" Julian says, looking up from where he's sitting on his side of the room. "In a working lab? During mid-morning? Impossible."

Barry points at him. "Exactly. I mean, unless the lab was scrubbed shortly before we arrived. Which, uh, they would probably have had time to do, if they wanted to."

Joe frowns. "You think they were hiding something?"

"I mean, yes and no?" Barry replies, shrugging helplessly when Joe glares at him. "Okay, let me rephrase. Yes, I think they were hiding something. No, I don't think it's really relevant. I mean, I don't really think they were hiding Heatwave in the alleyway out back or anything like that. It's probably nothing more than some run-of-the-mill labwork paranoia that someone's going to steal their work, or maybe some scientists they hired have a bad history with law enforcement, or something like that." He pauses. "Or, well, this is Central..."

He arches his eyebrows meaningfully. Joe nods thoughtfully.

"What does that mean?" Julian asks with a frown. He's good at his job, but he's not from Central; he hates it when everyone else just makes a reference to the city and share knowing nods like Barry and Joe were just doing.

Naturally, Barry makes a point of doing it as often as possible.

"Something they're working on for a Family," Joe clarifies. "Labs can process everything from drugs to explosives, and it's an open secret that running any type of successful business in Central - at least, running that business long enough that you want to keep it being successful - involves having an open mind in regards to the Families, if you get me."

"Though drugs have gone down since Snart came around," Barry comments, then flinches back when Julian and Joe both glare. "What? It's true! Palmer Tech could have a deal with the Rogues instead of a regular Family."

"I don't want to know what a guy who made himself the leader of a metahuman army wants with a lab, Bear, I really don't," Joe says.

"More parts for that cold gun of his, no doubt," Julian says.

"But the labs weren't working on cold, they were working on heat," Barry points out.

"Still, it's temperature related. Maybe Snart is thinking of switching it up."

"Seems like a stretch," Joe says doubtfully. "That bastard's pretty committed to his theme. Just last week he had snowflake-decorated hoodies delivered to the local children's hospital with a note saying 'when life's getting you hot under the collar, think Cold thoughts' - hoodies he stole, might I add, not that there's a public company in the world that's going to publically take clothing away from kids with cancer..."

Julian snorts. "What is he, running for mayor?" he says with a sneer.

"Don't ask me to understand Snart," Joe says. "If I were any good at it, he'd be in prison."

"Did Eddie find something in the logs?" Barry asks, thinking back. "He had his thinking-face on."

"He thought he did," Joe says. "Went down to records to check it out."

"What's left of records, you mean," Julian says.

To be fair, there wasn't much left after Snart's midnight raid. Of course, they couldn't prove it was Snart's doing, certainly without the relevant records, but the tell-tale thin layer of frost left behind made it pretty clear. Not that the policemen who'd first found it had thought to take a picture of it before it melted away...

The simultaneous electronic attack that ate away a big chunk of their electronic files and back-ups only made it more likely that it was Snart. He wasn't necessarily known for hacking, but simultaneous attacks utilizing all the skills of his subordinates were just his style.

Everyone just quietly hoped that it'd been a one-time job and Snart hadn't actually acquired a high-class hacker willing to join his Rogues.

"Well, hope Eddie's hunch gets us somewhere," Barry says. "Palmer Tech seems like a dead end."

"Except for the fact that the CEO, the COO, and the Head of R&D all flew over from Starling to show us around in person," Joe says. "They're staying on the suspect list."

Barry wonders if he should mention that he saw Felicity outside during their investigation - but no. There's no law against taking a smoke break.

"Anything from Mercury?" Joe asks Julian.

"Ms. McGee was outraged we were trespassing, interfering with delicate projects, etc., etc.," Julian says with a shrug. “The usual. Actually, it turned out that her stolen project related to tachyons, not heat tech. Their heat tech is, according to them, still secure – they’re developing a heat-sensitive trigger, designed to activate alarms once a certain heat threshold has been passed.”

“Alarms,” Barry says, arching his eyebrows, “or a fuse?”

“Given the prevalence of the word ‘trigger’ being used and the dearth of any additional details,” Julian says dryly, “I suspect the answer will be whatever pays more.”

“Still, strange that they weren’t hit,” Barry says, then frowns. “Wait. Were the other places hit around the same time, or sequentially?”

“Sequentially,” Julian replies, nodding in understanding already. Sometimes Barry wishes the guy wasn’t so competent, just so he could hate on him properly, but sadly, even Barry had to admit that having another brain to bounce off of has made them both more productive.

“What are you thinking, Bear?” Joe asks.

“That Mercury might not have a heat-tech related theft yet,” Barry says, gnawing at his lower lip. “If this guy is going after heat tech and given our suspicions that the leak might have come from Ramon’s Foundation – well, they just sent in a proposal, right? The guy might not know that it’s just a trigger system.”

“I’ll post some guards and tell them to keep an eye out,” Joe says. “If we can catch this guy breaking in on camera, that might be the key to catching him.”

Joe still lingers by the door a minute.

“Anything else, Joe?”

“Just – you’re going to this Ramon guy, right? The one we think the leak might've come from?”

“Tomorrow, yeah; after I finish up with whatever I get from STAR Labs this afternoon, yeah, with Ramirez and Stubbins,” Barry says, smirking at Julian’s quickly suppressed jealous expression at the mention of STAR Labs. “Why?”

“Be careful,” Joe says. “I’ve been asking around. No one’s said anything yet, but – well, Ramon is a non-police affiliated meta expert. And the biggest customer for that would be…”

“Snart,” Julian says. “I wouldn’t be surprised. Not least because Ramon wouldn’t be able to get easy access to test subjects without an illicit source, and his papers are –”

“Really good,” Barry interjects.

Julian looks sour. “Yes, unfortunately. The Foundation's very good. Though personally I think his associate, Ms. Snow, likely has more to do with it..."

"Julian's got a crush," Barry says wickedly.

"I most certainly do not!"

"On her excellent biomedical analysis of metahuman physiology, honestly, Julian, get your mind out of the gutter."

Julian glares, but there’s a bit of a blush on his cheeks.

Joe chuckles. "I'll leave you two to it. But seriously, Bear - be careful, okay? I’d rather Eddie and I went with you to Ramon tomorrow, but chance are we’ll be booked solid fielding calls about our investigations today."

"Relax," Barry says. "Heatwave's not after me, okay? It was coincidence. Now shoo, I need to pack up and freak out about going to STAR Labs before meeting you downstairs."

"I don't understand what you all see in Wells," Joe complains half-heartedly; it's an old argument. "He did cause the current metahuman crisis, you all remember that, right?"

"It's not technically a metahuman crisis," Julian says immediately. "It's just regular crime, as done by metahumans."

Julian had had a serious grudge against metahumans early on in his career, but after he'd nearly shot a kid pretending to be one, he'd gotten some serious therapy and sensitivity training.

"Plus, Heatwave's not a meta, remember?" Barry reminds Joe. "Can't say that one's a meta issue."

"Not that certain newspapers haven't tried."

"Man, am I glad Iris took the job with Picture News," Barry says. "Even if that tabloid probably would've paid better."

Joe glares the way he always does when someone brings up Iris, but Barry's working on wearing him down. It might take forever, but eventually he'll get used to hearing her name and maybe - just maybe - they'll be able to work their way to an apology.

Maybe.

Preferably without Barry screwing up in such a massive fashion that both of them have to forgive him because he's family, and then forgiving each other because they don't want to be hypocrites.

You know, like the last four times.

He's just about done getting his stuff ready when his phone beeps. Wondering who it might be, Barry scoops it up.

Making you something special for dinner, it read. No cheating.

Barry grins. He'd given Mick his cell number a while back, when he'd tried to order dinner on his commute home in hope that it'd arrive after he did (it arrived before, thus Mick's demand for a mobile number), but this is the first time Mick's just texted him out of the blue.

Even though his number's already saved as "M" in Barry’s phone.

Barry has a rich fantasy life, okay? And if someone - Iris - were to grab his phone now, she'd get the totally wrong impression.

Barry depresses himself for a few minutes, thinking about how he'd lure her into snatching the phone then tease her mercilessly about her misconception, if only they were still talking, but then he puts it out of his mind and focuses on the dinner Mick's undoubtedly making for him. Possibly personally.

Barry's imagination has decided to give Mick the shoulders from the guy he'd seen this morning, the hot one talking to Felicity in the alley, and for some reason he's decided to cook Barry's dinner shirtless. Mmmm, yes, please.

...make that a very rich fantasy life.

Barry sends an estimate of when he expects to be at home - around eight, barring surprises - and heads off to meet Joe and Eddie for their trip to STAR Labs.

STAR Labs is just as impressive as always: a giant, round tower, looming over mostly empty parking lots that circle it like a moat.

More impressive is what's inside.

Harrison Wells had initially gone into hiding after the explosion that created the metahumans, but he had reemerged with a fresh sense of determination and a hundred new ideas, and he was slowly building his reputation back up, one small piece at a time.

He sometimes said, in interviews, that science had gotten him into the situation he was in now and so science was the only hope he had left to get back out.

Of course, all the tabloid columns were more interested in what, exactly, had caused the final split between Harrison Wells and his former protégés, Cisco Ramon and Caitlin Snow, who had been among the only people to stand by him after the accelerator explosion. And then, a year or so later, they abruptly left him, both of them: Snow to return to medicine, Ramon to start the Ramon Foundation.

After the Foundation struck gold with a number of apps and assistive technology, not to mention a number of anti-metahuman defenses, Snow had left her budding ophthalmology practice and returned to Cisco's side. More intriguingly, they had been joined by Hartley Rathaway, another ex-protégé of Wells, and one whose parting of ways had definitely been on bad terms.

Yet no matter how anyone pressed, and no matter how upset the leading members of the Foundation became when Wells was discussed, they never said a word against him. A number of gossip columns - not that Barry read those, well, not too much - suggested that Wells still had some form of blackmail over Ramon, something to do with some technology he had developed while he was still with Wells.

Barry might be a little star-struck by Harrison Wells' marvelous brain, but he's not going to let down his guard. His dad had always said that if a teacher keeps chewing up and spitting out students, the problem's with the teacher.

He hadn't been able to see his dad in a while. Henry Allen had been hit by the accelerator explosion when he’d been given that day pass to visit Barry to watch the grand opening, resulting in a nine-month coma and speed meta powers, both of which had definitely taken a few years off Barry’s life, but he steadfastly refused to use those powers to escape prison, which didn't always make him too popular with the other inmates. That meant more solitary, which meant fewer visiting hours.

Barry missed him.

It’d be nice to have someone in his life that he could talk to about stupid things, like fanboying over Harrison Wells.

Huh, maybe he could talk about it with Mick over dinner. It wasn’t like it was police work or anything.

"Gentlemen, sorry to keep you waiting," the man himself said.

Barry jumps a little, not having seen him lurking in the shadows in his wheelchair. Though in fairness, Barry was also hanging back a bit.

He turns to look, and - oh, wow, it's really him.

Harrison Wells. He looks just as distinguished as on television - though he also looks just as gray and worn out as he did on television, too, which was presumably why the gossip mags had a field day proposing that he had any number of mysterious illnesses potentially caused by playing with dark matter.

"Not a problem," Joe says. "I'm Detective West; we spoke on the phone. We're sorry to take time out of your undoubtedly busy day."

Barry very carefully did not look around the virtually deserted labs.

"Not at all," Wells said. "You're here to investigate the theft of the thermal core?"

"Thermal core?"

"Yes," Wells says. "I've been working on developing energy sources - smaller, more efficient. Someone took a prototype and hid it somewhere."

"How do you know that they hid it?" Eddie asks.

"I went to look for it, obviously!" Wells snaps.

"And you weren't in the lab that night?"

"No," Wells says, regaining his composure by a visible effort. "I'm sorry, Detective...?"

"Thawne."

Wells' hands clench on his wheelchair. "I see. Yes. Of course. Welcome."

"And this is our colleague, CSI Barry Allen," Eddie adds. “He’ll be assisting us today.”

Wells' reaction is - well, Barry's going to have to go with weird.

He twists to look at Barry, and he's almost - hungry. But also like Barry's disappointed him, somehow, like Barry's a very close but not quite right reminder of someone he wanted to see.

Also, is it just Barry, or is his hair going blond at the roots and the tips? Like, not white or grey, but blond?

Weird.

Barry'd say that Wells must think that brunettes have more fun and forgot to dye his hair recently enough, but it doesn't explain the slight blond at the tips. Whatever, Barry's not here for hair styling advice.

"Mr. Allen," Wells says. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"I wasn't aware it was such an honor," Barry says, aiming for light-hearted as he shakes Wells' hand. He's mostly kind of creeped. "It's an honor to meet you. Sorry for imposing on you like this."

Wells' smile is tight-lipped.

"Not at all," he says. "I'll show you where the lab is."

The lab is stupendous, but Barry's got this weird feeling, like it was almost meant for something else before it got transformed into what it is now. There's a surprising amount of tech that he can identify as medical; he doesn't know what a physics lab would need with that. At least the speed measurement stuff makes some sense.

Wells goes away for a few minute, some excuse about putting something in order, and comes back refreshed, almost perky; he's charming and urbane, chatting lightly with them as they search his lab.

Barry doesn’t glance at Joe or Eddie, but he assumes they’re thinking the same thing (drugs) as he is. Possibly prescription, possibly not, but man, what a difference. The Harrison Wells that left them was erratic, irritable, eccentric; the one who returns is the one that made himself famous enough to sweet-talk the city into building his Particle Accelerator.

Charming enough to almost (almost) make them forget how weird his introduction was.

Amazingly enough, Wells seems to enjoy talking with Barry. He’s interested in Barry’s work, his projects, everything; he seems to think Barry’s got great potential, which, uh, Barry’s going to have to find a way to include in his official write-up because holy crap Harrison Wells thinks he has great potential and everyone, ever, needs to know about it.

Joe and Eddie don’t seem particularly happy about it, but whatever.

It’s probably just because they’re not finding anything useful.

“Perhaps you can stay behind, Mr. Allen,” Wells says with a smile. “I’d love to discuss your theories in further depth –”

“I’m afraid since this is an open investigation, it wouldn’t be appropriate for Mr. Allen to socialize,” Joe cuts in.

Barry gives him an injured look. Does he not realize this is Harrison Wells?

“There would be nothing inappropriate about it, I assure you,” Wells says smoothly. “Merely an academic discussion of mutual interests, which I believe is entirely permissible, even in an open investigation. After all, I’m not a suspect, am I?”

“Of course not, Mr. Wells,” Barry says, reaching for his phone in order to text Joe to shut up. “I’m sure that –”

His phone.

No cheating.

“– we’ll be able to catch up another time,” Barry finishes with a sigh. Damnit.

If it wasn’t the very first time Mick had texted him, he might have opted to cancel, but Barry’s lost too many friendships to his inability to schedule his life properly, and he’s not losing this one.

Wells looks disappointed. “Another time, then,” he says. Then he smiles. "We'll have to make sure of it."

#my fic #mick rory #barry allen #leonard snart #flashwave #Julian albert #joe west #summer in the city

21 notes · View notes