#so i threw this together last minute when i got home from trivia last night djsjsjs

[ectonurites]

Byler Week Day 3: Birthdaygate/Byler gates

i am choosing to believe that Vecna made everyone forget Will's birthday for Plot Reasons (do I know what plot reasons? absolutely not) and that will eventually be resolved, so imagine this is in the aftermath of that 👍

but anyways: HAPPY BIRTHDAY WILL ❤️❤️❤️

[beyondspaceandstars]

The Damn Weather

Relationship: Steve Rogers x Reader Warnings: N/A Summary: Steve does his best to comfort you after a thunderstorm knocks the power out. A/N: Short, sweet fluff <3 a pretty older one I sort of dug up in my computer files but I still enjoy it!

Masterlist

CRACK. CRASH. BOOM.

You jumped out of your sound sleep when the unsettling noises from the night sky pierced your ears. The thunder shook the room after a strike of blinding lightning illuminated the darkness. Rain was was being thrown at your panoramic windows by vicious gusts of wind. Your breathing was heavy as you tried to reel your emotions back in, quite shocked. You were never a fan of thunderstorms, especially ones that occurred in the dead of night.

Even though you quickly got your breathing under control, your brain was all over the place and keeping you wide awake. You sat in the bed, trying to convince yourself to just go back to bed (God — you felt like you were being such a baby!) but your racing heart wasn’t having any of it.

You glanced quickly at Steve to double check you hadn’t woken him up with your outburst. A tired grumble and sigh proved he was still asleep — completely and utterly unaffected by the storm. You felt a tinge of jealousy at his calm state, but brushed it off and went to watch some TV in the living room. You just had to get your mind off it and pray the storm would pass quickly.

Television programming at two in the morning was fairly scarce you found out very quickly. Practically every channel went to paid programming, much to your demise, leaving you stuck watching some forgotten movie channel. But a distraction was a distraction, so you sat back and did your best to get lost in the cheesy acting. It was going fairly well for a while and you even felt like you may fall back asleep... But then it happened.

One lighting crash followed by a piercing boom of thunder and your entire home went dark. No hesitation, no warning… You were now sitting in pitch black darkness.

You can do this, you thought. You can go grab flashlights in the dark like a grown woman without waking your fucking boyfriend for comfort-

CRASH.

A crack of lightning caught you off guard causing you to let out a yelp in surprise. Seconds later, footsteps could be heard rushing into the living room, alerting you that your outburst had accidentally woke your boyfriend.

"Y/N?!" Steve called out as he entered the living area. He could just barely make out your figure huddled on the couch in the darkness.

"Hi," You mumbled and sunk back into the couch. Lightning struck once again, illuminating your boyfriend face, giving you a clear look at the concern written all over it.

"Are you okay?" He asked as he took a seat next to you, swiftly pulling you into him. You were allowing it at this point. You were shaken beyond belief.

You sighed, "The storm knocked the power out."

Your body was tense as you stared into the unknowing darkness of the apartment. You never did like storms — especially when you were younger — and they always seemed to get worse when the sweet comfort of light abandoned you. It was silly for you to still be so freaked about storms, but there was just a feeling about them you couldn’t quite shake.

Unknowingly to you, Steve was observing you and the fear your eyes held. He knew you hated storms, but he never quite realized power outages would also be on your list of fears. Knowing you wouldn’t be coming back to bed anytime soon, he had to find something to ease your brain. He thought he had a fine idea, but first he desperately needed some kind of light that wasn’t just lightning.

"Okay," Steve nodded. "You sit here, and I’ll grab candles and flashlights."

He went to stand up, only to be pulled back by your gentle hand.

"No," You mumbled. Steve cocked his head in confusion. "Don’t leave me alone."

Your words pierced his heart. He grabbed your hand, pulling you up from the couch and into his arms. He held you there for a second, just letting you breathe and get your thoughts together. After a moment or so, Steve broke the silence.

"It’s okay, darling," He said. "We’ll get them together."

You held your boyfriend’s hand tightly as you two maneuvered through the dark apartment. There was a casual grumble from Steve when he’d accidentally hit his foot on a piece of furniture which made you laugh a bit.

Finally, you two located the candles and flashlights in one of the kitchen drawers. You turned on a couple of the flashlights and pointed them to the ceiling, giving you a makeshift lamp. Steve lit the candles and placed them around the living area. The brightness eased your worries greatly and allowed you to fully see your boyfriend’s face — which was always a welcoming sight.

"Better?" Steve asked as you two stood in the dimly lit living room.

You shrugged. Your eyes glanced over to the open windows. The rain was still beating down and thunder rumbled throughout the sky. You wanted to climb away and hide.

"Well," Steve’s voice broke the silence, "how about we find some board games to play?"

You turned to him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Board games?"

Truthfully, you couldn’t really remember the last time you played a board game. They seemed to phase a bit out of your life as you grew up, but you knew Steve enjoyed them enough to keep a few stashed in the living room.

"Yeah," he shrugged, "or we can just sit here in the dark, but I have a sneaking suspicion that’s not what you wanna do."

You let out an embarrassed chuckle and agreed to his suggestion. You noted he seemed slightly too excited to pull out the games and it warmed your heart he was trying to distract you.

Steve proceeded to pull out various board games ranging from skill based, trivia, to pure chance. He moved a couple of candles to the coffee table and began setting up one of the games on the floor beside it. He looked heavenly in the glow of the candles, once again making your heart melt over your ridiculously sweet and very attractive boyfriend.

You were pulled out of your daze by an exceptionally loud crack of thunder. Your heart began racing again, but you didn’t have much time to dwell on it before Steve pulled you down to the floor with him.

The game of choice for the time being, you saw, was Connect 4. You chuckled at the childish  game, but when you got into it — you found out quickly that Steve plays to win.

You thought, since you were the distressed one, it would be a light hearted game. You were dead wrong. Minutes in and Steve was trying to play mind games with you in order to win.

"You sure you wanna do that, darling?" Steve teased as you went to place your red chip in one of the slots. He was just trying to distract you, you knew that, but you still briefly hesitated on the initial drop. It made sense from your point of view, so you shot your boyfriend a look and dropped the chip.

What you thought was gonna be your ultimate comeback turned into Steve winning within three moves. He hadn’t let you win once in the five games you two played. You threw your chips down in frustration.

"You’re cheating!" You squeaked.

Steve let out a laugh and reset the game. "How could I be cheating?"

"You’re using psychological warfare!"

"No, honey, I’m just the good." Your boyfriend scoffed, shooting you a proud smirk. You huffed in annoyance.

"I want another round." You demanded. Steve happily agreed.

It was way into the early morning hours but the time you had actually won a game. The rain had stopped hours ago but you didn’t pay much attention to it. You were just determined to kick your boyfriend’s ass in Connect 4.

"Finally!" You finally got to screech in victory. You two eventually lost count in how many games were played, but this was the one that mattered in your book.

Just after you declared your win, the lights flickered back on around you. The power outages had escaped you during the Connect 4 marathon but now you were just insanely thankful it was back.

"You won," Steve shrugged and began packing up the game.

You let out a yawn. "Thank you."

"For what?" Your boyfriend asked as he placed the board games back on the shelf. You walked around blowing out the candles.

"Just for getting my mind off it all."

Steve gave you a kiss and slung his arm over your shoulders, leading you back to the bedroom. You greeted your warm bed with open arms. Cuddled up next to Steve, you laid there waiting for sleep to engulf you.

"Gosh, I can’t believe I beat you in Connect 4."

"Yeah, doll," Steve chuckled. "You sure got me."

…

"Steve, did you let me win?"

"Good night, darling."

[embrassemoi]

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars ✷ 31

Pairings: Sirius B, F!Reader, Remus L  Warnings: Language, smoking weed, shitty parenting, mentions of death A/N: more of a filler but it helps establish stuff. *unbeta'd

【 Masterlist | Previous Chapter | ao3 】

Chapter 31: Drowning on Dry Land

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The week before her flight back, Matthew’s parents invited her over for dinner.

Waiting to greet them at the door was Mrs. and Mr. Gaplin. Matthew’s father, a Half-Maj, was a Potioneer while his mother, an Old-Maj, was a Court Scribe. They wore large, kind smiles as Mrs. Gaplin pulled her into a tight, crushing hug.

After pleasantries, she and Matthew kicked off their shoes while his parents ushered them to the dining room.

“How are you darling? '' Mrs. Gaplin asked, floating plates in their direction as everyone began helping themselves to food. “Matt wouldn’t stop talking about you since we knew y’were coming.”

She side-eyed Matthew who groaned loudly. “Did not!”

“Sure thing,” she added, which caused Matthew to slump in his chair as his parents laughed at him.

It was a nice, charming evening; filled with laughter and heartfelt conversations. His parents continued to gloat about Mathew’s achievements that he hadn’t told her. It caused him to almost get up and run out of the room from embarrassment before moving to boast about Y/N. Even Mr. Gaplin asked her regarding her OWLs which pleasantly surprised her.

A few times, Mr. Gaplin pressed a few cheeky kisses to his wife’s face as Matthew made loud retching noises.

“Disgusting!”

Mr. Gaplin laughed. “Ya sixteen. Suck it up.”

“But you’re still my baby!” Mrs. Gaplin cooed, getting up to collect the plates.

Matthew tried to look insulted but she could see the small smile that threatened his lips as jealousy nipped at her toes.

The next few days were spent staying at the Gaplin household. Matthew’s parents insisted constantly that she should stay over so they could utilize the little time they had left before leaving. At first, the idea made her feel intrusive. Although, her mother hadn’t returned to the brownstone house, preferring to sleep in the on-call rooms at the Brooklyn Memorial Hospital. It quickly got lonely and boring before Y/N finally agreed. Besides, Mrs. and Mr. Gaplin were only around for breakfast and dinner - working for the day but never failed to return; always wearing larger smiles than the previous night.

They made her feel welcomed and warm - even taking her and Matthew to the local pictures. They included her in everything, even their trivia and board games after dinner.

It was quite the change compared to her family life.

Then an identical routine ensued. She would wake up, get ready for the day; spend hours with Matthew; then twilight fell as they stayed awake into the early hours of the morning.

The day before she was due to leave, she and Matthew ran up to his room after dinner. He went to lean on top of the small coffee table, rolling up a joint as she collected her possessions scattered around his room; not wanting to leave it for the last minute.

“Fancy some grass?” He asked in a poor British accent.

“Nah,” she shook her head, “But thanks love.”

Mathew’s smile turned bashful as he stood, turning on the radio in the background. She moved to open his window which was just above the roof of his shed as she stepped out with steady feet. Perching herself down on the blankets and pillows they hauled outside the night prior, she stared at the glowing city splayed in front. From the window, The Velvet Underground flowed softly.

Matthew proceeded to hop out, sauntering over as he threw a flirtatious wink.

“Brough this,” he said, tossing the camera he’d taken from her bag. She caught it as he nestled beside her and lit the joint; placed in his mouth. Billows of smoke clouded around them while she snapped a few photos of the view.

“Ya sure you gotta leave?” Matthew whined, embers of the end of the joint sparking with another huff. “Maybe you can smuggle me. Shove me into that trunk.”

She pulled the camera away from her face, inhaling the earthy, pungent scent. Her head felt a bit lightheaded from it. “A hardcore criminal at sixteen?”

Matthew was mildly amused until a troublesome look passed through his features. “Um — name something ya miss most about home.”

Home. What a funny word — place — feeling. Home was supposed to be something that made your heart glow, feel warm and happy — by that definition, a year ago home would’ve been her little house back in Toronto with the beautiful maple trees swaying in the backyard. Or home would’ve been Ilvermorny and its tall ivory walls. But now, London, or maybe just Hogwarts, had become her home. The scrolls around the Herbology greenhouse, the library, sneaking around past curfew; the Black Lake, Hogsmeade — Lily, James, Marlene, Dorcas, Remus, Regulus…

Unsure of what to say, she opted for, “You?”

Matthew rolled his eyes, bringing the joint to his lips. “Real charmer.” Then, smoke surrounded them. “But really.”

“Why?”

“C’mon! I need an answer! — I don’t know… say somethin’ like… lobstah.”

She chuckled. “Lobster? Really?”

“Or coffee from ya regular cafe.”

Deliberating it for a second, lips tugged up. “Coffee Crisp.”

He snorted. “A candy bar? Really?”

“Or Ketchup chips. Haven’t seen them in London yet.”

“That’s fucking disgusting.”

And then the silence returns but it makes Matthew shuffle in his spot. He blurted out, “Go — more brit insight.”

Y/N felt a bit hazy from the secondhand smoke. “More? You’ll get bored.”

“I won’t,” Matthew replied quickly, sounding oddly sincere. “Please, just… go on. Tell me everything.”

“Um… a friend of mine says crikey a lot. I think it just means to be mildly surprised? — They don’t say bloody or blimey as much as you’d think… Oh! Tea — they really drink that much tea. Also —”

Continuing, Matthew shut off again, going completely silent — not once speaking up or adding funny commentary; only staring at her, simply watching.

“Okay,” she turned to take the joint from his hand, “You're freaking me out. Spill, what's up?”

“S’nuthing.”

Whack!

“Jeez! Would ya stop wiv that! Gonna kill me…”

“Spill.”

“Fine! It’s just that…'' Matthew shifted, obscuring his face. Maybe if she didn’t feel so fuzzy, or if there wasn’t the smoke coming from the blunt or her small headache forming, she would’ve picked up on all the little signs. “It’s just —” he sighed, “I wanna hear ya talk — commit it to memory.”

“Obsessed with me? Not new.”

But that seemed to trouble him more. “It’s just… I don’t know if or when I’ll hear it again…” He looks up to the city in front. “Ya my… best friend. Could never forget ‘bout ya, but s’hard — keepin’ in touch.”

She pats him, encouraging and smiling. Her voice was hopeful, so much so that it made Matthew’s lip quirk up. “We’ll find each other. Always.” She said simply. “You and me, we’re like… salt and pepper. Soap and water — Hansel and Gretel!”

“Fuckin’ Dr. Seuss,” he smiled, that worried look fading away.

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The warm summer breeze flowed around them, just as the sun peeked above the airport. Expanse, clear skies with blue mingled with deep purples and pinks shimmered against the metal from the building.

“Gonna miss ya,” Matthew muttered into the crown of her head. Her mother didn’t want him to come, but Y/N simply ignored that request as he came to send her off.

“Don’t get mushy on me now,” she joked but felt her throat become tight.

“Betta get goin’ — Doc’s lookin’ like she’s ‘bout to butcher me if ya don’t.”

She snickered, pushing Matthew’s shoulder as she picked up her bags, walking backwards while waving. “Write me!”

“Course I will! Until next time!”

“Till next time!”

Once the plane took off, awkwardness swelled among the two women. Not once had her mother said anything to her — not to apologize or see how she was doing — although they never really did talk much. Honestly, she half-expected her to leave her in New York with the Gaplins. Easy to dispose of her.

The next few days Y/N, poorly, attempted to fix her sleeping schedule. It was a miracle that she managed to get up before dinner as her head poked into the master bedroom.

She cleared her throat, feeling herself swaying in place. “Um — hi. I’m making dinner tonight.”

Her mother was dressed in a simple, yet sleek dress. She was bent over, putting on high heels as she looked up.

“The hospital is throwing a party for me — the surgery was a success.”

“That’s amazing! Er — will you be back for dinner though? It’s just that I leave soon and... two parties are better than one.”

She considered her for a long time, eyes mostly distracted by her hair slowly changing to a different colour.

“Sure. But I have to go now.”

“Right, sorry, have fun.”

Thudding down the stairs and the door clicking shut, she followed not too long after. Making her way to the kitchen, she picked up a dusty cooking book, blowing off the dust and cracked it open; flicking through the pages.

Deciding on the seemingly easy noodle dish, she rushed out of the house to the local grocery shop for ingredients. It would be the first time they would be spending any time together. It had to be perfect. But she overestimated that no matter how closely she stuck with the dishes’ instructions, the outcome was a disaster.

The noodles somehow were rock hard. The sauce she made looked grey and was chunky, similar to badly mixed concrete and it tasted horrid. At one point, even the stove exploded into flames as she had to grab her wand and use magic to extinguish the fire.

Potions... She could use a cauldron, use multiple ingredients, make some of the most complicated spells and even had tricks of her own to make the process easier but she couldn’t make a simple dish…

Her face screwed together as she glanced up to the clock; she was going to come home soon as the dinner she made was disastrous. She panicked, cleaning up everything in a rush and decided to order food.

Waiting patiently at the dinner table, her eyes fluttered up to the clock in anticipation. She felt giddy, a surge of excitement rattling throughout her bones at the prospect. Her mother wanted to spend time with her! And she should be home any minute.

But then a minute turned to two, then five, ten, twenty, thirty — then an hour ticked by.

And then another.

Y/N got up, her chair squeaking loudly. Losing all her appetite, she went to her room, sleeping in early.

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August 20th, 1976

Going through the potential NEWT courses she could take was the highlight of her day. The possibilities were endless.

Wanting to take Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfigurations and most of all, Potions, left her excited for the school year.

But the more she thought about the upcoming school year or potential courses, she was left to contemplate what ther5 future entailed.

Was she ready to give up magic? Something that fundamentally altered her life and moulded her into what she was? Magic was her essence, something she developed and nurtured — but to put her life in danger…

Rethinking that word again: home… Was London her home? Was she willing to leave, move again to be safer? But practicing magic around the world these days for New-Majs was dangerous. Or the potential danger she would put her mother in if she continued with it?

But magic… Maybe home wasn’t necessarily a place — but rather something she carried. In all sense, magic made her heart glow, feel warm, safe and happy — it felt like what home was supposed to feel like. And the idea of being ripped away from it, forcing herself to live a normal, Muggle life…

Magic was home.

So die, but have what she cared and loved most was by her side or live a dull life without magic — ensuring her life would be miserable.

There was a clicking of shoes in the hallway that snapped her out of her thoughts. Her mother came walking by.

Lips smushed shut into a tight line, still annoyed from the other night but was determined to spend some time with one another.

“I was planning to go to Diagon Alley for the first time — to get my textbooks... '' She stood awkwardly. “Do you want to come with me?”

“I can’t,” she replied, so quickly that it had Y/N almost scoff in disbelief. “Work. But have fun.”

She sighed but still waved her off and said a small, ��I love you, stay safe.’ Her mother only gave her a look, something unreadable and left without a word. With a heavy heart, she grabbed her purse filled with gold and left for Diagon Alley.

Passing through the Leaky Cauldron was an adventure in itself. The shabby, tiny pub was jammed with wizards and witches zipping by.

Diagon Alley was bustling with so much magic she could feel it pumping through her blood. Students were hypnotized by the shiny new Firebolt on display; others were giggling, running around with shopping bags while older witches and wizards took a scroll. Her head turned in every direction; walking into the Apothecary, a potions ingredients and book shop.

Emmeline was there. She gave a tight-lipped smile which she returned.

Emmeline by every definition was nice, extremely kind and neither girl ever had a problem with the other. James was the problem and Y/N would gladly stay out of their feud.

Passing clamouring students, she managed to get all her supplies but stopped in front of the potion ingredients. She took a few minutes, flicking through the Advance Potions textbook and grabbed everything listed needed for most of the potions.

She made her way around Diagon Alley, going through many shops. The shelves were stacked high to the ceiling with books and materials. She spent more time than necessary there but it was beautiful.

As she was paying for her Herbology textbook, a large boom! rumbled the ground. Y/N took her bags, ready to sprint to the Leaky Cauldron but the shouts caught everyone’s attention.

“WE WILL NOT BURN WITH THEM!” A crowd of witches and wizards shouted. Their wands were transformed into microphones as a few shot fireballs up in the air.

“What’s happening?” A woman asked an old wizard. He only shook his head, grabbing a copy of the Daily Prophet, handing it to the witch.

On the front page, there were moving photos of people protesting, similar to the wizards and witches currently shouting.

‘Protests Break out in Light of Muggleborns and Halfbloods Burned Alive

Voldemort and his followers have been attacking Muggleborn and ‘blood traitor' families with the usage of fire. By burning them alive, or their houses. They bonded the witch or wizard with magic, making it impossible to apparate or leave their houses. Their broken wands were found at the scene.

Since then, protests all around Britain and Scotland have broken out. The Ministry of Magic —’

“WE WILL NOT BURN WITH THEM!” The crowd chanted.

Rage filled every inch of her body as she stomped out of Diagon Alley.

If she wanted to stay in the magical world, she had to be the greatest at whatever she did, because if she wasn’t, someone of her status was never going to get anywhere.

Magic was home, and she wasn’t going to let them take it from her. She didn’t want to surrender. They weren’t going to take that away from her.

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Immediately after Diagonal Alley, she began working; taking in her thoughts from earlier to heart.

Making sure to cover any windows from prying eyes, Y/N fiddle with first with new charms. Still unassured by her abilities in Charms, she considered taking another class before realizing all the different routes it led to. To become a Healer, Auror or Potioneer, she needed Charms.

Multiple charms backfired, causing them to ricochet off the walls, leaving a dent or chipping the wallpaper.

After trying out more than half the Charms in the book, there was one spell in particular that she attempted to cast many times, but without fail, was never able to properly cast it. Frustrated, her hand made a sharp flick and the spell spurted out instantly.

She tried again with the same hand gesture. To her astonishment, the charm produced easily. Quickly, she jotted down the note in her book.

Next, she glossed over her Transfigurations and Defense Against the Dark Arts book until her eyes caught onto the word: werewolf.

She learned briefly about werewolves, but that was in third year. And now that she knew a werewolf, it would be good to rehash it.

A werewolf, also known as a Lycanthrope, is a non-magical or magical being who transforms under the rising of the full moon. However, non-magical beings have a greater risk of dying rather than turning.

As the name suggests, werewolves are closely related to the non-magical animal, wolves. However, they have distinct characteristics that make them easily identifiable from wolves.

She flipped the page.

Wolfsbane flowers are poisonous to the non-magical world but it has been proven to have no effects on werewolves like they do on wolves. Werewolves are immune from the poison they emit and there are reports that Wolfsbane flowers help alleviate symptoms.

She underlined that section.

It’s a uniquely magical illness known to spread by saliva and blood. Werewolves are dangerous, blood-thirsty beasts — she flipped the page.

They cannot choose to transform and will no longer retain their human mind. Given the opportunity, they would slaughter their loved ones — flipped the page.

A mixture of powdered silver and dittany applied to bites help seal bite wounds. It’s also commonly put in liquid and digested in anticipation of full moons to help with the symptoms of transforming.

Y/N’s face scrunched as she continued to read.

There is no known cure Potion used to help treat lycanthropy.

She felt oddly intrusive knowing parts about Remus’ condition. But then questions arose. How were there no Potions of any kind there to help werewolves during their transformation?

Pushing the thought away, she turned to the cauldron, picking a potion to brew. They all were fairly easy, some she’d even done before just by playing around. But one potion that grabbed her attention was Draught of Living Death. Even at Ilvermorny, that potion was notoriously difficult.

Starting up the cauldron, she grabbed hold of the sopophorous bean. However, it kept jumping when she tried to cut it. She quickly resorted to another method, running down to her kitchen and grabbing the handheld garlic press, placing the bean inside, squishing it down as so much juice spurted out, even going all over her clothing.

The potion turned into the light lilac like suggested. But then as she stirred, her potion quickly became ruined as she restarted immediately.

Hours ticked by; several items in her room were Transfigured into cauldrons, as she poured the existing solution into the nine other cauldrons as she conducted her experiment.

Stirring counterclockwise was a sham, so she stirred clockwise. Nothing, the potion went bad. The next cauldron, she stirred counterclockwise and then clockwise, alternating between every stir. It showed promising progress before it turned a bright red after the seventh stir, bubbling over.

The next cauldron, she stirred counterclockwise, then clockwise after the seventh stir as the potion turned a pink pale. That’s what the book said would happen. She quickly cleared the rest of the cauldrons, pouring in the pink liquid just in case.

She continued to stir until it became a clear liquid. Surely, that was good enough but she could never be sure. After all, she didn’t know if this was what it was supposed to look like.

Deeply immersed, she hadn’t realized how late it got.

She laid on her bed, her light on as she read the scribbles on the margins of the books she'd penned. The textbook was outdated and everything she’s written down, there were easier ways to perform spells, create Potions and more. The other books must’ve been outdated too.

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

August 22nd, 1976

Today, her attention was drawn to her Herbology textbook as she flipped right to the medicine section. Y/N had sneakily stolen a few of her mother’s medical journals as she scribbled down notes.

She flicked through the diagrams. Wizards and No-Majs were different when it came to their bodies and sickness, she knew that, but their anatomy was still the same.

An opera played in the background as she sat in front of the television. It filled the silence as her mother came from behind her, creeping her way closer to the door.

Y/N called out from where she sat. “Care to join me?”

“Can't, work.” She grunted out.

She placed the pen down, full attention drawn to her. “I only have a few days until school starts… you can’t spend some time?”

Her mom wasn’t looking at her, ostensibly staring at the floor, anywhere other than her face.

“It’s not that interesting, but um - I need help with medical terms and illnesses. You’re the best at that!”

“I can’t,” she said roughly. “Can't you see? You have to stop bothering me when I’m busy.” And then she left again, leaving her alone. Y/N would’ve been more bothered had she not been so focused on her studies.

There was a pattern.

In the Herbology textbook, in the werewolf section, there were a few ingredients used to help alleviate symptoms of Lycanthropy.

Dittany, Powered silver, Powdered Moonstone, Aconite…

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

August 26th, 1976

“Do you want to —” “Work.”

“But you always have work… can’t you take some time off?”

“You know it’s important to me. Why do you keep trying to limit that?”

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

August 29th, 1976

She was partially through her Potions and Charms textbook. It was all she could fixate on.

Deciding to take a break, Y/N went to stretch, getting up to talk to her mom who again, was getting ready to leave. She opened the honey-coloured wood draw close to the door. She pulled out a set of keys, fixing her appearance in a nearby mirror.

She had already opened the door.

“Hey mom, I was thinking of getting lunch… Will you be back soon?”

But, there was faint muffling outside the door.

“Ready for our date?”

Y/N, desperate, seized hold of her wrist, pleading. “Please, I leave in a day.”

“I'll make it up to you,” mom replied, “I promise.” And then, the door clicked shut.

Again.

She stared at the door, trying to regulate what she was thinking.

What made them worthy of her time when their’s were limited.

Robotically, Y/N turned to walk to her room, her hip bumped into the drawer which hadn’t been fully closed. Her eyes flew to it, about to push it in as she caught a flash of white.

Yanking it open, she swore her heart could’ve shattered. White envelopes filled the draw; her familiar handwriting scribbled on top of each letter. She picked one up, twisting it over to the flap.

It was unopened.

She picked up another. Unopened.

Then another. Unopened.

Unopened.

All of them were unopened, sealed. Hardly tampered with and there was hardly a wrinkle.

Was there something wrong with her? Something so disgraceful that made her so disgusting that people kept forgetting - pushing her away? Like an insidious disease.

Was she truly that unloveable? That much of a nuisance? What made someone else so much more important than her?

It was too much to process but if she had to describe the feeling, it was like drowning on dry land.

Whatever home was, it shouldn’t feel like this: cold, lonely, sad.

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

【 Next Chapter 】

Slang dictionary (+ a bit of history bc i didn’t realize how many ppl didn’t actually understand what I was talking about in other chaps):

Coffee Crisp = a very popular chocolate bar sold in Canada. It was a variation of a treat made by a company from the UK. It was briefly introduced to the UK in the 60s but was pulled back because people thought it was too similar to Kit Kat. From what I know, Coffee Crisp is not commonly found in England (I've never seen it in stores) but it’s sold in Scotland.

Candy bar = US term for chocolate bar / chocolate

Grass = during the 60s - 70s, the term 'grass' was very popular slang for weed in New York bc it featured in vogue.

And yes, the British do drink that much tea.

© gotkindabored 2021. Do not repost or modify

[imaginingsoftly]

Baseball Trivia - Josh Anderson

Type: Y/N insert shorts, strangers to enemies-ish to lovers, series

Requested: No

Warnings: standard swearing

AN: This will be a shortish four part series. It’s complete, so I’ll put the next one out Wednesday.

She was never going to an athletics conference again. There was too much testosterone and not enough actual conversation about their field, and was now the biggest waste of $300 Y/N had ever spent. In a room of 250-plus communications directors, she was one of maybe 20 women, and all of them had somehow managed to get themselves seats in a clump on one side of the room. Y/N, on the other hand, ended up in the row with all the washed-up college athletes that were convinced they could still play. The guy on her right was rambling on about how hard it was not to check out the female athletes to the guy on her left, who was agreeing emphatically. Fucking assholes. 

BU’s communications director was on the stage rambling on about keeping social media current, like he had any fucking clue how to do that. Y/N knew for a fact he didn’t even know how to post to Twitter, let alone how to run an effective page. Honestly, most of the keynote speakers were useless. Having 20-plus years in a field like athletics communications didn’t mean much besides knowing most of the other people who had also been there for 20-plus years. The actual job had evolved tremendously in the last 5 years, let alone since they first came into the field. It wasn’t just about writing press releases and keeping track of records any more. They were the people who wrote articles about the teams for the athletics website, the ones who live-tweeted games and kept the social media pages current and innovative. Y/N could almost guarantee most of the speakers didn’t even know how to send a tweet. 

The two assholes on either side of her grew tired of being sleazy, and decided to torture her instead. Y/N took a deep breath when she noticed their attention turn her way. “So, sweetheart, what exactly do you do?” Y/N rolled her eyes. Those fucking assholes were really going to call her sweetheart? 

She cut a glare at asshole #1 on her right, and he actually flinched a little. “First of all, don’t call me sweetheart.” Asshole #2, the one on her right, actually snorted, and Y/N raised an eyebrow at him as well. “Secondly, I’m the Senior Manager of Communications and Media Relations at UBC in Vancouver. I coordinate the press for all of our athletic teams, as well as organize all of the social media pages and our website.” The two were silent, and Y/N smiled slightly. “So what do you boys do exactly?” BU’s director finished talking before either one had a chance to answer, and it was almost too bad. She was looking forward to watching them flounder. Really, her job was a big deal. To be the person in charge and also be a female was a big deal, but to also be her age was pretty big too. At 26, she should probably still be working a low-level job, probably just now getting out of the internship stage. Senior management was usually relegated to guys like Mr. BU, who was old enough to be her dad, but hey: she was good at her job. 

Cam, one of Y/N’s classmates at BC, was thankfully waving at her from his spot in the back of the room, and Y/N slid away from her seatmates without a goodbye. Hopefully she’d never have to see them again. “So,” Cam called out as Y/N got closer, “was it enlightening?” Cam laughed in response to her eye-roll, and Y/N pulled the taller guy in with a laugh. It was nice to see him again. After BC the pair had gone their separate ways, and now they were on opposite coasts. Cam was fortunate enough to find a job close to home in New York, while Y/N had found herself on the far side of the continent in Vancouver. It was weird, after being together almost constantly for four years, to see each other maybe once a year, but it had worked out for the best. 

“Listen, Cam, the guys on either side of me spent the entire time talking about checking out the college girls. They were older than us.” Cam reacted appropriately, making a gagging noise, and Y/N was again thankful to have a person there with her. “Any chance I can get you to go out tonight?” Cam made an apologetic face, and Y/N groaned. “No, you have to come with me so people leave me alone.” 

Most of the time, people assumed they were together and guys left her alone. If he wasn’t there, guys would be bothering her off and on all night, and she never attracted the good guys. She was a magnet for married 40-somethings who liked younger women. “Sorry, babe,” Cam said apologetically, “but my flight leaves in like 2 hours. I’m headed to the airport like now.” He reached out his arms for a hug, and Y/N grudgingly obliged. “I am excited to see you in the city in a few months, though!” The two smiled at each other, and Y/N walked with Cam until he reached the bus taking a ton of the conference attendees to the airport. “Have fun, Y/N. Go be wild for the night.” He kissed her on the cheek with a smirk, and Y/N shook her head at him as he climbed onto the bus. She would go out that night, Y/N decided, and she would deal with those men if it meant doing something spontaneous for once. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The bar looked welcoming, in a part of the city that looked a little less young and crazy than the part near the conference and her hotel. Distance from universities, Y/N had learned, meant everything when it came to bars. The ones close to Ohio State had been wild, and full of college kids. Definitely not her scene. This bar, on the other hand, was perfect. It was homey, sports memorabilia on the walls and country playing from the speakers. Y/N got a beer from the bartender and settled in on a barstool, staring up at the television screen above her. It was playing a replay of the Blue Jackets game from earlier that day, a Sunday matinee performance that had turned into a minor brawl with the Penguins. 

She sat in silence for almost an hour, waving for another beer about 45 minutes in. At one point three men threw themselves onto the barstools next to her, arguing emphatically about some video game, but they thankfully left her alone. 

At some point the argument between the boys had become goofing around, and then they began arguing again. “I’m telling you, man, the Yankees were the first ones.” One of the guys mentioned baseball, and Y/N’s ears perked up. Baseball was her favorite sport to work at UBC, even if the guys could be even more cocky than the hockey boys, something she’d previously thought impossible. 

Out of the corner of her eye Y/N saw the guy next to her shake his head in disagreement. “No way, man. I think Toronto was the first team to retire a number.” Oh, sports trivia. Y/N smiled. This was her specialty. 

“Technically,” Y/N interrupted, “The Habs were the first professional sports team to retire a number.” The trio turned to look at Y/N looking confused, and Y/N caught the eyes of the guy who’d mentioned the Yankees. He was pretty, with blue eyes that somehow managed to be kind and intimidating at the same time. She held his stare as she continued speaking. “If you were talking about just baseball, then it was the Yankees. They’ve also retired more numbers than any other professional sports team.” Y/N trailed off as the three continued to stare at her wordlessly, and she smiled nervously. 

It was starting to get awkward when one of the guys finally spoke, and Y/N almost slumped over in relief. “How the hell do you know that?” The guy that spoke, whom she now recognized as Seth Jones, was starting at her disbelievingly. Actually, now that Y/N thought about it she recognized all of the guys. Boone Jenner and Josh Anderson stared at Y/N on either side of Seth, and Y/N sat up a little straighter. Athletes. She knew how to handle them. 

She shrugged in response to Seth’s question. “I’m a sports fan. I like random facts like that.” Y/N held out a hand. “Y/N. Nice to meet ya.” Boone grabbed her hand first, and Y/N relaxed at the sight of his smile. There was something welcoming about him. Seth followed suit, gesturing at the other two guys. “I’m Seth. That’s Boone, and this,” he shouldered Josh, “is Josh. We’re also sports fans.” Y/N smiled at the three of them, and Josh reached out his hand to her as well. His hand was warm, and she found herself caught up in his eyes again. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N,” Josh said, and Y/N had to fight to break his gaze. “Are you from the area?” She shook her head and looked away to clear the fog that had taken over her brain. “I’m from out of state,” she said. “I work for a university’s athletics department, and I’m in town for a conference.” She answered what would probably be their next question quickly. “And before you ask, yes I knew who you guys were. Baseball has my heart, but I do love hockey as well.” The boys all looked at each other and grinned.

Boone clapped Y/N on the shoulder, and she smiled up at him. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. So outside of knowing more about sports than everyone else, what do you do?” 

Y/N laughed. “I work in athletics communications. We’re in charge of social media for the university athletics, coordinating press, stats, all that fun stuff.” The guys were all nodding like they knew what she was talking about, and she laughed a little. “You know the promotional videos and other random crap that gets posted on social media?” They all nodded at that. “I’m part of the crew that designs those. I’m the person who live-tweets games. I’m also the person who decides which reporters get to talk to our athletes and which athletes are going to be available for pressers after games.” 

Seth whistled. “That’s a lot of shit Y/N, how the hell do you manage all of it?” She waved her arms. “No,” she laughed, “I don’t do it all alone. We have interns that help, I just need to make sure that everything gets done right. I actually have an intern that developed a concept for an absolutely incredible intro video for our women’s hockey team this fall that I can’t wait to help her put together.” The guys all nodded along like they were following. It was refreshing to talk about her job with people who kind of understood what she was talking about, outside of the people she worked around all day. 

The conversation moved on from there, and eventually Boone and Seth left the bar, the latter leaving with some girl while the former headed home alone. Josh remained, hooked on the increasingly drunken words coming out of Y/N’s mouth. At some point they had moved on to embarrassing stories about themselves, and after Josh shared a story about biting it in front of his new team Y/N only felt it was fair to share her first-day horror story. “So I’m sitting there thinking I’m doing a great job, like maybe this internship was gonna work, when I get a text from my boss.” It was her biggest mistake as an intern, and really her biggest mistake in the field period. “It turns out I was live-tweeting the hockey game on the women’s basketball page.” Josh had the appropriate reaction, widening his eyes and gripping the hand Y/N had settled onto the bar top between them. 

“No!” He exclaimed, throwing his head back when Y/N nodded in response. “What did you do?” He was genuinely invested, and Y/N’s mildly drunk brain was having trouble computing that. Why in the hell did a professional athlete seem so interested in the behind-the-scenes world of college athletics? 

It didn’t matter. She had a story to tell. “I totally panicked. Like I’m on the phone apologizing to my boss, who’s not yelling but sounds waayyy disappointed, and at the same time I’m trying to delete all the tweets. It was hands-down my worst day on the job ever.” Y/N met Josh’s eyes again, and the expression changed. They grew warmer, a little more fiery, and Y/N found herself leaning forward to meet his kiss halfway. 

She was never going to be able to kiss someone like this again. The couple of other guys Y/N had kissed in the past were good, but Josh was wow. Granted, players generally had a good amount of experience in that department, but maybe that just meant she needed to kiss more players. It was pure passion, and Y/N groaned when Josh’s hand found its way into the hair at the base of her skull. He tilted her head back to kiss her deeper, and then broke away suddenly. “Please come home with me.” Josh’s words were whispered into her ear, his proximity sending fireworks through Y/N’s brain. There was no question. She was totally going. 

Josh smiled when Y/N nodded in response. He slid a fifty onto the bar to cover their drinks and then some before grabbing Y/N’s hand and tugging her out the door of the bar and into the street. They were close to his apartment, a little less than two blocks away, and his hands were all over her as they stumbled up the stairs and into his place. It was modern, with lots of windows and some random abstract art she was sure he hadn’t picked out for himself, but that was the extent of the tour she got. He practically carried her into his room in his haste to get her clothes off, and Y/N settled in to enjoy the night. She had a feeling it was going to be a good one.

Getting out of Josh’s bed was the hardest part of Y/N’s night. Not only was it comfortable as hell, but the man sprawled across the sheets was tempting to cuddle with. If it wasn’t for her early morning flight Y/N might have stayed, maybe gone another round, but the flight was coming up fast and she still had to get back to her hotel across the city and then to the airport. Y/N paused as she exited the bedroom, considering for a moment leaving a note or her number, but then she decided against it. It’s not like they’d ever see each other again, right?

[scullymakesmefeelautopsyturvy]

Several Times Scully Got Locked Out Of Her Motel Room In Her Scanties (First Time Smut Ensues) Chapter One

Space (Season One)

They sat on the city steps in the midday sunshine awaiting another of Mulder’s mysterious informants. She, eating a sad little excuse for a sandwich: cucumber-dampened white bread encompassing roast chicken lovingly Saran-wrapped and pressed into her hand after Sunday lunch at her parents’ house. An awkward lunch, during which her father had accomplished the stellar feat of not asking her about her work once. I should have cheered everyone up by asking if anyone had heard from Charles lately, Melissa had joked, darkly, over the phone afterwards. 

The sandwich stuck in her throat a little as she swallowed, and out of nowhere, everything felt so… insufficient.

Was this really her life now? Crackpots and conservative suits and no sex since Jack? Reading journals alone on Friday nights and eating her mother’s leftovers?

She was still stashing a fastidiously initialed brown bag in the Bureau staff kitchen fridge each morning, as she had been in the habit of doing at Quantico. 

Dana Katherine Scully, you’re hardly a schoolgirl anymore, she told herself. 

Perhaps it was time to graduate to lunch in the cafeteria, like one of the big kids. 

Mulder nibbled on his inescapable sunflower seeds. Rental car cup holders. The top drawer of the basement desk. The bottom drawer, and the middle. Even loose, once, inexplicably, in her suitcase when she arrived home from a three-night case in Iowa. They were everywhere, pervading her entire life with their woody scent and their easy charm just like the man who unceasingly consumed them.

He was close, now, his knees spread wide and swinging with casual rich-kid confidence as he began to lose patience with his anonymous NASA tipster. Scully kept her stockinged legs primly pressed together, her well-lined heavy linen skirt draping over her kneecaps, preserving her modesty. His fingertips brushed her own as he handed her the informant’s note, and she was glad of the excuse to break his gaze, to look down and away from his face; the inevitable thrill she was coming to know so well shooting through her body from tip to toes. 

When the Space Program whistleblower did arrive, it was a she; a development Scully could well have done without. Especially one as… developed as this. 

Long and lean, blonde, finessed; Michelle Generoo looked exactly like the full-sized version of the girls Scully imagined Mulder growing up with on Martha’s Vineyard, summering in Rhode Island, picnicking on lush lawns by sparkling waters while she herself played hopscotch with scavenged pebbles on Navy base blacktop, or avoided cracks in uneven paving slabs as she skipped along in hand-me-down pleated skirts and fraying hand-knitted sweaters. This was probably exactly the WASP-y horsewoman type Mulder’s parents had always envisaged him marrying, with her tweed jacket and her long silky locks and her mirror-lensed aviators. 

Not a squat, pale, Irish Catholic Navy brat with full cheeks, wiry russet hair and stubborn freckles that were probably popping exponentially with every second spent sitting in this sunshine. Who still brought homemade sandwiches to work.

Michelle Generoo: Mission Control Communications Commander for the Space Program in Houston. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for me now, for I must have sinned, and am being punished with the early-afternoon arrival of Fox Mulder’s ideal woman, sent from heaven to enact my own personal hell. 

Scully hated this feeling: this creeping sense of little sister inferiority. It was the mid-semester first day at a new school all over again, having been transplanted with her father’s latest deployment; Bill laughing and joking with the jocks or the prettiest clique of girls he could find, she hiding with a book in the library. It was enviously watching Melissa tame her curls into elaborate braids when all she could manage was a stubby ponytail with lumps at her crown, aged seven, twelve, twenty-nine. 

What was it about prepubescent inadequacies that made them so infuriatingly unassailable? Successfully reinterpreting Einstein and near-perfect pistol qualification scores had only ever compensated for so much.

At the mention of a fiancé - a Shuttle Commanding astronaut fiancé, no less - Scully relaxed somewhat. For once, she was glad that Mulder’s particular obsession with certain matters of the universe was a little less than impressive to the casual observer. 

Mulder disappeared off into the city on some unspecified errand, and sent her back to the Hoover Building to arrange flights and accommodation, agreeing to meet her at the airport.

On the plane, he seemed disappointed when she didn’t want to read his brand new copy of NASA: A History of American Space Travel, and peppered her with trivia instead.

“Did you know, all twelve men who walked on the moon agree, the surface smells like spent gunpowder?”

“Oh really,” Scully said. “And what did the women say?” 

Mulder looked a little uncomfortable. Having made her point about why she might, perhaps, feel a little excluded from his spaceboy enthusiasm, Scully pondered this fact.

“They can’t remove their helmet on the moon; there’s no atmosphere.” She countered. “How do they know what it smells like?”

“From the dust left over on their spacesuits,” Mulder was clearly happy to be able to inform her.

Scully frowned at him. 

“You think they’re so cool, don’t you Mulder?”

He looked personally injured. “Scully, how can you be the one person in the universe - a physicist, no less - who doesn’t think space travel is cool?”

She turned her torso in her narrow seat to face him.

“Mulder, when I was five years old, for Apollo 11, I was just as excited as you are now. My older brother and sister and I followed the news of the mission; we watched the moon landing just like everybody else. Bill and Melissa dressed up as Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin for Halloween that year; they made me be the Stars and Stripes so we could all pose for photos together. I had to stick my arm out and wobble the flag. We were just as space crazed as anyone. And over the years, as the missions continued, I read everything, I mean everything-” Mulder nodded, he could surely believe that of Scully at any age - “and I found out some trivia of my own.”

Mulder titled his head, curious.

“You know, a spacesuit is a sealed environment. It has to be airtight, right?”

Mulder nodded. 

“And spacewalks last between five and eight hours on average.”

Mulder was listening intently.

“Well, there’s… nowhere to… go. When you have to go,” she gestured euphemistically. “And in a zero-gravity environment - or any environment, in fact - you don’t want to just relieve yourself inside the suit.”

Mulder frowned.

“So they wear these… things. It’s called a MAG: A Maximum Absorbency Garment,” she enunciated carefully. “You just… let it go, and it… absorbs it.”

Mulder looked perturbed.

“So basically, underneath that cool, space-exploring exterior,” Scully continued, “you’ve got a bunch of highly trained, hero-worshipped men - and now, women - floating around wearing adult diapers.”

Mulder swallowed hard.

“You know, I have a little brother. Charles. When he was still wearing Pampers I would watch my mom changing him, and I’d smell those foul odors and witness the frankly terrifying contents in some detail, and I just - I could never look at astronauts in the same way again after I found out about the MAG. I don’t know, it just ruined it for me.”

Her partner sat back quietly in his chair, more than a little disturbed.

Scully smiled at him weakly, and decided to take a nap.

On the tarmac in Houston, the cabin lights, dimmed for landing, switched back to full brightness as the seatbelt indicator dinged off. Mulder sprang out of his seat, already reaching up for the overhead bins to retrieve their luggage. 

Scully sat calmly with her forest-green briefcase on her lap, not willing to pointlessly stand for ten minutes while the passengers in rows A-R filed interminably slowly up the aisle, huffing and checking her watch as though that would change the physics of the aircraft and hurry anything along. 

No, patience had always been her friend; she would await her turn peacefully, could wait for anything forever, so long as she knew for certain it was coming to her.

Alighted, they bypassed the checked baggage carousels, Mulder carrying the suitcases and Scully toting only her leather satchel. The pair walked to the Lariat desk, where Scully hung back, and Mulder flirted with the smiling clerk working the night shift.

In the car, Mulder questioned her again about the arrangements.

“Intercontinental, Scully? It’s probably the furthest possible airport from the Space Center.”

“...and all requisitions would let me book at such late notice. The flights into Hobby were almost double the cost. It would be a waste of taxpayers’ money.” She signalled right, checking both directions. 

“Are we heading further North, Scully?” Mulder asked, checking the constellations through the windshield.

She tsked and gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. “It’s late. If you want to make all future travel bookings, be my guest, Mulder. But as it stands we’ll stay up here tonight, drive down for our eight-thirty a.m., and stay down there from tomorrow.”

At the mention of the morning meeting with Lt. Belt, Mulder brightened, and stuck his head back in his book for the remainder of the journey to their motel. 

When they arrived at the Spring Creek Mercury Motorlodge, she threw him a look. A warning shot. 

Don’t say a word, Mulder.

The motel took shabby to a whole new level: the paintwork was more chips than oil-based matte; the blown bulbs outnumbered the working ones, the woodwork of the bare-bones portico looked like it should have been condemned alongside the Rosenbergs.

The sign on the office door declared, ‘Desk open 7 a.m. - 10 p.m. ONLY ring bell outside of opening hours for ABSOLUTE EMERGENCIES.��� 

Scully checked her watch. It was approaching midnight. A handwritten Post-It stuck at an angle underneath read, ‘Scully booking, rooms # 8 & 12. Doors open. Keycards inside.’

“Always nice to experience that famous Southern hospitality,” Mulder deadpanned, peeling the note from the glass. They moved along the walkway, counting up as they went.

The door to number eight was propped barely ajar with a rotting two-by-four. Scully could see the square of exposed woodwork where an old lock mechanism had been removed: replaced by a newfangled electronic keycard system. She ran her eyes over the crumbling porch roof and thought, Really? This is where they chose to invest their refurb budget?

Mulder pushed the door open for Scully and held her gaze as she stared at him momentarily. He looked like he was about to follow her into the room. 

“Thanks,” she gulped, taking her suitcase from his hand.

But he stayed put outside, grabbing the handle to pull the door shut, double checking their plans for the morning. “See you at seven-fifteen then? All checks complete and ready to strap ourselves into the command module?” He grinned.

Scully dropped her case onto the bed and sighed. He was going to be insufferable tomorrow.

***

After showering, hanging up her burgundy pantsuit for the next day, then losing a fight with the room’s overactive heater, Scully unravelled the tightly rolled pink satin pajamas from her suitcase. You get fewer wrinkles if you roll rather than fold, her mother had taught her. 

Stepping into them, she could already feel herself perspiring lightly, and wondered if it would be better to do without the pajamas or the comforter. Her mind flashed to the various possible emergencies that might see her fleeing her room in the middle of the night: a fire, a tornado, an intruder. 

Keep the pajamas, lose the comforter, she decided.

But she suspected she’d need more to keep herself cool. She remembered passing an ice machine a few doors down, and grabbed a metal bucket left on the dresser for just such purposes, tucking her keycard into the breast pocket of her nightwear as she went.

She was so warm and the ice machine was so close, she didn’t even bother with shoes as she tiptoed the few feet along the walkway. The machine hummed and clanked as she lifted the front and noisily plunged the bucket into the crisp, dry cubes.

Ice.  

The Arctic Ice Core Project. Alaska. A sparsely appointed supply closet. Mulder crouching down to her level and hissing his balmy, furious breath directly into her face. 

I don’t trust them. I WANT to trust you.

He’d been angry and sweaty and ripe, and it had been the two of them against the others. They’d made what felt like a binding pact, whispering conspiratorially; sealing it with their laying on of hands.

If she’d been asked prior to that about the most intimate part of a person’s body, she might have given the same answers as anyone else. Reproductive organs her studies had given her medical names for. Mammary glands meant for feeding young but warped by western culture into symbols of sex and shame. Perhaps the cushiony swell of the gluteus maximus, so favored by jocks, and creeps in bars. 

But she’d finished that case on the Icy Cape with the discovery of more than a new species of worm; she’d learned for the first time about the deep, heady, overwhelming intimacy of touching another person at the back of the neck. 

Jesus, she’d already been so wet when he’d grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her back to inspect her spine. She feared her unguarded gasp had given her away. And when he’d brushed aside her hair and lain his whole palm against the nape of her neck, awaiting the telltale wriggle of the homicide-inducing parasite, it was she who had squirmed beneath the hot, unrelenting pressure. 

Oh god, what he’d be able to do to her with those big, strong, capable hands. 

Alaska at that latitude had average winter temperatures of less than zero degrees Fahrenheit. November on the North Slope saw little more than three hours of sunshine a day. They regularly experienced impenetrable blizzards that could freeze a person to death in under an hour. 

But when Dana Scully thought of the Icy Cape, all she could feel was searing, blazing, pulsing heat. 

She filled the ice bucket, slammed the machine shut, and carried her personal cooling system back to her room, balancing it on her hip like an infant as she swiped the keycard for entry.

She got a red light.

Furrowing her brow, she swiped again.

Red.

Again.

Red.

Sighing her frustration, she ran the card through the slot several more times, resting the bucket on the floor and jiggling the handle as she tried over and over for green, listening for the buzz of the latch electronically pulling back.

Nothing.

She threw her hands up in the air and tried twice more to no avail.

She looked about her for assistance, finding none. No one was about. She started off towards the office and slowed as she reached the door. She re-read the sign.

ABSOLUTE EMERGENCIES.

Well, she couldn’t get into her room. Surely that was an emergency. She pressed the bell and waited, but no one came. She pressed again, and again, nothing. This was ridiculous. She tried once more with the bell, and after two minutes, sighing furiously, strode back along the walkway, her bare toes starting to go numb. She’d successfully cooled off, at least.

She continued past room eight, doubling back to try the lock three more times then kicking the door with great vexation before jogging up towards number twelve, wrapping her arms around her breasts to warm herself. The ice bucket stood sentry, dripping condensation.

She lifted her knuckle to knock on Mulder’s door, then hesitated slightly. She stole a glance down at her pajamas. They were not thick, and clung to her curves, puckering at her bare nipples. Mulder had seen her wearing far less - had checked her for mosquito bites clad only in what her maternal Grandmother would have called her smalls on their very first case - and remained professional, but that had been a rare exception, borne of her neophyte panic. She worked so hard to be taken seriously, to be seen as a colleague and an expert and a peer, and not as a sexual object. It was hard to project an air of authority in pastel pink satin with your breasts announcing themselves to anyone within five hundred yards. But Jesus, it was freezing out, and she had to be up and dressed in less than seven hours. She wasn’t about to spend a frostbitten night out in the cold and give herself hypothermia for the sake of avoiding a little embarrassment. She was a fully grown woman; Mulder, a fully grown man. They were both adults here. They could be mature about this.

She knocked, hugging her chest again afterwards.

Mulder opened the door still in his shirt and tie, although his jacket was hung over the desk chair in the corner. The NASA book lay face down, open on the bed. He chewed on one of his infernal seeds.

“You okay, Scully?” he asked, frowning. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Couldn’t get back into my room,” Scully explained, huffing. “I went out for ice and my… the keycard doesn’t work.”

“You should ring the bell for the owners,” Mulder suggested, unhelpfully.

“I did,” Scully said, pointedly. “No answer.” She looked up at him and pressed her lips together apologetically. “Can I come in?”

“Of course, of course,” Mulder said, standing back to let her enter. He stood with his back to the door after it was closed. “You can sleep in here; it’s no bother. I’ll crash on the floor.”

“Thank you,” Scully said, perching on the desk. Mulder sat himself on the end of the bed and gazed over at her.

“You cold?” he asked.

Actually, Mulder’s room was as toasty as hers had been, and her toes were already thawing out.

“Warming up,” she said, thankfully.

“Just that you’re… hugging yourself,” he explained, gesturing at her arms, still clamped across her unsecured bosom.

“Oh,” she said, self-consciously, but let her arms drop slowly to her sides, gripping the edge of the desk with both hands for security. “I’m not… wearing very much, is all.”

“Oh,” he echoed softly, his eyes scanning the length of her nightwear all the way to the floor and back up again. Yes, she was certainly feeling some heat once again.

“What you are wearing is… very nice though.” His eyes settled on her own for a few seconds, then flicked down to her breasts, and she inhaled sharply, silently, she hoped in retrospect. When he looked back at her face, her mouth was hanging slightly open, and she caught herself, licking her lips for discipline, her chest heaving. He looked down again. 

She felt her cheeks burning, and averted her eyes to the book on the bed, a change of focus for her mind, which was racing with thoughts of candlelight and shower-wet hair, of thermal shirts and platonic supply closet fumblings: Mulder and his fingertips the common denominator in these scenarios. 

She forced herself to look back at him. He was comfortably staring now, his face giving nothing away, but she knew he was quite aware she’d seen him appreciating her exposed form. He was leaving this up to her.

She wrestled with her conscience.

She shouldn’t do this. They were partners. It was against Bureau policy. It was unprofessional. It could ruin her career if it ended badly. Worse, it could come between her and Mulder, drive a wedge between them and prise apart their newly cemented friendship. 

But…

She thought of Oregon and hands and Alaska and ice, and she knew what she wanted.

You’re hardly a schoolgirl anymore...

She stood up slowly, wordlessly taking a few steps towards Mulder on the bed. Yes, they were both fully grown, and she had some very adult ideas about what they could do together.

She paused one or two paces from his knees, and held his gaze for a moment. She let her lips fall open once more, her breathing labored, and she saw his breath was keeping pace with her own.

She thought of Michelle Generoo, and of her own jealousies and insecurities, and second guessed herself momentarily. She’d always suspected she wasn’t Mulder’s type. Yes, he had moments ago brazenly taken in the sight of her nipples brushing against the silky confines of her pajama top, but he was a red-blooded straight male, and they had been right there, still standing at attention from her time out in the cold. And yes, he was looking at her intently now as she crossed the room, the propulsion of months and months of unverbalized, unresolved sexual tension at her back, but his expression was blank, and he might be nervously wondering how the hell he was going to abort this mission.

There was one way to be sure. He had done his fair share of looking; it was her turn to be brazen.

She dropped her gaze to his lap, seeking a different kind of green light.

In the dim glow coming from the slightly open bathroom door, she found exactly what she was seeking. The bulge that tented Mulder’s pants cast a promising shadow. She was go for launch.

She took another step, and found his eyeline once more.

His pupils were dilated, his lips pillow-soft and pouting, the ridge growing noticeably larger even in her peripheral vision.

She reached down for his left hand and brought it to her breast, pressing it against herself over the pajamas.

“Make me see stars, Mulder,” she whispered, breaking into a lazy smile.

His momentary expression of disbelief gave way to a grin, and he looked up at her with reverence. She let go of his fingers, dropping her arm to her side once again, and his palm moved with feathery softness over her breast, centering her nipple in the smoothest spot, where you’d clutch a baby’s fist, or a prized possession. The heat of his hand radiated through the satin, the friction of skin on fabric even more erotic than direct contact. Their gazes were locked. His mouth fell open a fraction, mirroring hers, and he raised his other hand to work both breasts, his fingers held up and away from her body as he traced circles with her hardened peaks against his deep volar arches. She closed her eyes and moaned, low and soft, letting her head fall backwards. Her knees went limp, and Mulder steadied her with one hand, docking her at the hip.  

His grip sent shockwaves to her core, her pulse now strongest between her legs. She knew she was already leaving a damp mark on her pajama bottoms. 

She lifted her head back up and looked down at Mulder, still seated on the edge of the comforter. They panted together in the quiet, each awestruck by the other, and Scully reached up to her top button, deftly pushing it through the opening with her delicately manicured fingertips. She did not avert her eyes from Mulder’s as she worked her way down to her waist, finally letting the shirt hang open at the front. 

She took his left hand once more and tucked it inside the front panel, his massive palm easily encompassing the entire fleshy mound there. He squeezed her hip gently, cupping her and pulling her towards him at once, guiding her between his knees. Checking her eyes for continued consent, he brushed the center of her shirt to one side and revealed half of her chest to his vision for the first time. 

“Oh, Scully,” he said in a hushed voice, and - permission silently granted by Scully’s hungry gaze - lifted his mouth to her nipple and latched on, sucking, circling his tongue around her hot, pink bud. She moaned again and grabbed the back of his head, twisting her fingers into his hair, her nails scratching at his scalp.

His mouth broke contact with her delicately pale skin, and he pushed the satin from her shoulders, letting it whoosh to the floor.

He was gazing up at her again, and she leaned down to kiss him now, finally allowing herself to experience in the flesh that which she had longed for, imagined, fantasized about for some time. Their lips met; wet, fervent, ravenous. Their shared craving drew them together, suctioning them to one another at the mouth as though they could consume one another entirely, and meant to. His salted breath mingled with her own, and their tongues tangled and danced. He ran his hand up her naked back, and her breasts pressed against his collarbone.

He pulled away, and she held the side of his face tightly to her bare chest, breathless, eyes closed. 

“Scully,” he ventured, “are you sure about this?” He looked up at her with his soft, beautiful, hazel eyes. She didn’t know what had possessed her for so long, being able to resist those eyes all these months.

She straightened up, and took his hand once again, reaching behind herself to slide it down the back of her waistband, over her rounded ass, and into the molten cleft of her body. She spread her thighs as his fingers found her desire, parting and probing her on their voyage of discovery. He dipped a single digit inside her body, and she exhaled on a low moan. 

“I’m sure, Mulder,” she murmured, smiling again. “Take me to the moon and back.”

He relaxed a little, his shoulders dropping, “Oh is that the game?” he teased, “Space puns?”

She shrugged playfully.

He smiled wide at her, or she thought he did; it was hard to see with her eyelashes fluttering closed. Her head dropped back once more as he pumped into her, his thumb resting fortuitously against the base of her perineum, that dark, forbidden, blissful spot. She felt alive, animal, raw. She let her breath come out ragged, allowed her rasps and moans to escape unbridled. Mulder paused his efforts for a second or two, leaving two fingers curled inside her, using his free hand to yank down her pajama pants. She helped, kicking them loose from her ankles as he grabbed a handful of her ass with his spare hand and pulled her toward the bed, reclining face up on the mattress and encouraging her to crawl on her knees up to his shoulders and sit back. Only then did he remove his fingers from inside of her, and her body sucked at them as he did, protesting their departure.

Scully was giddy with want, and Mulder looked up at her just then with such veneration that her heart burst with renewed affection for him. She’d never been made to feel more worthy in her life. This was so Mulder. She had not specifically realized it before, but this was how he often made her feel, in his best moments. 

At the insistence of his hand pressing gently on her lower back, his fingers sticky with her own yearning, she lowered her sex to his mouth. 

As soon as his velvet tongue met her clit, she cried out, almost lifting herself up on her knees at the shock of it. He held her steady, lapping at her hardened bundle of nerves with the flat of his tongue, softly at first, then applying more and more pressure as she sunk further down onto him, his chin pressing up into her heat, her slick juices gliding her inner walls against his light stubble. Oh Jesus, it was divine, and she called out his last name as she rode his face, her breath hitching in her throat as her trajectory was set to climax.

Scully chanced a glance downwards and saw that he was watching her in her ecstasy. 

She was wanted. She was valued. She was enough.

She smiled down at him, not halting her movements, and reached up to pinch her own nipples with her dainty, expert hands. Mulder groaned his pleasure into her body, sucking and licking and holding her down so she could not get away.

“Fuck,” she gasped, and was lost; her face lifted to the heavens, her body and mind spinning and soaring in concupiscent formation, her voice clamorously invoking two thirds of the Trinity with various, stertorous monikers as she rocketed into her own private orbit.

Mulder massaged her hips and kept his chin tilted up into her as she twitched and panted and called out for God, and she felt her inner muscles contracting around his way-past-five-o-clock shadow. The humid air of his heavy breath rushed from his nose, tickling her pubic mound as his lips remained clamped over the hood of her clitoris. She exhaled the last of her shudders and sat back on her haunches, resting on his solid pectorals, running her tongue over her lips, wetting them with exhausted delight. Mulder’s chin glistened in the dim room, drenched, and she laughed, reaching down to wipe him off. 

He let her, but then caught her by the wrist and held her soaked palm against his mouth, kissing it, hard, and smearing the residue of her arousal all over his lips once again. He licked them clean, unblinking.

She buried her face in her other hand and laughed shyly. 

Mulder chuckled along with her, resting his hands on her still-spread thighs, his thumbs dipping close to her parted labia. She bit her lower lip and looked him in the eye once again, unable to hide her happiness.

“Luckily, out here, no one can hear you scream,” he joked, a question in his eyes suggesting he was worried he might not get away with this, and she pushed him away teasingly but giggled as she climbed off the bed. She picked up her pajama pants from the floor.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Mulder asked her as she stood up.

“I’ll be right back,” Scully responded, flinging the bottoms over her shoulder and sauntering off to the bathroom, looking back at him to make sure he was getting a good look at her receding form. “Don’t move.”

She glanced down at the enormous bulge in his pants once again, and knew she needn’t worry. He wouldn’t be going anywhere with that thing.

She returned a few minutes later, now wearing the satin pants, and sporting a dark gleam in her eye as she crept across the carpet towards him. When she reached the bed, he leaned up on his elbows and reached for her to pull her onto the bed, but she shook her head. Instead, she reached for his belt buckle and deliberately undid it, sliding the leather through the metal loop before reaching for his fly. As she unzipped his pants, Mulder lifted his hips, and his erection bounced up, pushing the flaps of the zipper to either side, straining against his boxer briefs. This was one shuttle she wouldn’t mind watching blast off, and she was ready to fire up the booster rockets. 

She helped him remove his pants, then tugged at the waistband of his underwear. He removed it and lay himself back down on the bed, looking almost anxious. 

“Mulder,” she reassured him. “Relax; I want this. I want you.” She whispered the last part, lowering herself to kneel at the foot of the bed. 

His manhood loomed large, worryingly large for such a petite person, but Scully had never met a challenge she didn’t want to face. And face it she did; this hard, quivering invitation to wantonness inches from her mouth. He smelled like the Mulder she had come to know, only stronger here; that musky, spicy pheromone blend that brought her to her knees - now, finally, literally - and she breathed him in with abandon. 

She gripped him in her hand, taking his tip into her mouth, sweeping her tongue around the head of his cock as he exhaled forcefully. She slid her closed palm up and down the base of his shaft, letting her saliva drip down to lubricate her ministrations, then working him further into her jaws so that the top of his penis rubbed just against her soft palate. She bobbed her head against him. He filled her mouth easily, and she thought of all the times she’d surreptitiously stolen a glance at his lap. Her curiosity had been satisfied, and then some. He was every bit as big as she’d always suspected, and her small oral cavity made for a snug fit as she worked him into a frenzy on the bed.

He clutched at the covers and murmured her name, encouraging her efforts all the while. He slowed her at one point, just managing to explain through his moans that he wanted to enjoy it a little longer, but his thighs were soon flexing again and she accelerated her pumping with her fist, sucking a little harder, working the tip of her tongue against his popping veins. 

Mulder reached out and grabbed at her shoulder, clumsily pushing her back. “T-minus... T-minus five seconds and… and counting…” he sputtered, and she risked another tongue swirl, another deep thrust towards her throat. 

“Scully!” Mulder choked out, and she pulled her mouth away. She kept her hand in place and he wrapped his own around it, working his erection skillfully as he delivered his impressive payload over their ten conjoined fingers and down onto his stomach. A coy smirk plastered itself across Scully’s face as he collapsed back onto the bed.          

She raised herself from the floor, rolling her neck from side to side, and grabbed the box of tissues that was sitting on the nightstand. She held them out and sat on the mattress, one foot tucked under the opposite thigh, her breasts sitting proudly on her chest with the pert insouciance of youth. 

Mulder cleaned himself up and aimed the balled up tissues at the wastebasket, missing. He sighed, but didn’t get up, so Scully laughingly dragged herself over and retrieved the errant missiles, dropping them into their intended target. She returned to the bed and lay herself down in the crook of Mulder’s arm. 

He kissed her temple, a peck, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead, then lifted her chin with one finger so that he could plant a full kiss on her mouth. She breathed in the scent of herself on his lips, their musky scents intermingling on both their tongues. 

“Wow Scully,” he smiled. “That was fun.”

She nodded, grinning herself. 

“Although, it was a bit of a close encounter, if you know what I mean,” he said, and she buried her face in his shoulder and laughed, any residual worries she’d had about this changing the fundamental nature of their relationship flying away on her huffing breath and disappearing into the vacuum of the mattress. 

Mulder lifted his head. “Oh god, it’s past two,” he announced. He must have been checking the display on the alarm clock. “You should get some sleep Scully; you gotta drive us down to the Space Center in the morning.”

“Hey, it’s your turn,” she whined, sitting up and pulling the covers back to climb beneath. Her pajama shirt lay forgotten on the floor. Tornadoes and fires be damned, she’d already had her ABSOLUTE EMERGENCY for the night. It was too hot for more clothes, especially with Mulder’s intense body heat so close. And she did intend to hold him close tonight. And other nights, if he wanted her. 

“Talk about a waste of taxpayer’s money, Scully,” Mulder droned, sitting up and shaking himself alert. “The two of us sharing a motel room while another sits empty.”

“Oh,” Scully replied sleepily. “Believe me, I’m demanding a refund on my room.”

“Demanding a refund, Scully?” Mulder queried, now folding his pants and setting them on the chair by his suit jacket. “You weren’t happy with the level of service you just received?”

She squinted one eye open to look at him. “Mmm, you? You did good, Mulder. I’ll be sure to leave a generous tip for you at check out.” She patted the mattress next to her.

“I’ll be right there,” he assured her, disappearing off into the bathroom. 

She was asleep before he even turned out the light.

***

Scully had witnessed Mulder ejaculating for the first time at the Spring Creek Mercury Motorlodge, but she genuinely worried she might see an impromptu repeat performance when they arrived at the Space Center the following morning. Walking to their meeting, they bantered for the benefit of their NASA escort, Mulder practically bouncing off the walls and once again bombarding her with facts and figures.

“You remember all that stuff?” she asked, wearily, suppressing a yawn.

“You never wanted to be an astronaut when you were a kid, Scully?”

“Guess I missed that phase,” she sighed, mouthing ‘adult diapers’ at him behind their guide’s back.

She couldn’t help but make fun of him for his adulation of Lt. Belt, either. “Didn’t you want to get his autograph?” she teased as they left the Space Shuttle Program Director’s office, and when Mulder caught up with her he tapped her lightly on the ass in retaliation.

At some point in the afternoon, Mulder slunk off and made some phone calls, and when they drove to their accommodation after the successful launch that evening, it wasn’t the motel Scully had booked but a ritzy hotel with bellhops and room service. They finally made it back there in the middle of the night, following the complications with the mission and Lt. Belt’s questionable press conference.

At the reception desk, Mulder retrieved two keys, but when he held one out to Scully and she grasped her forefinger and thumb around it, he didn’t let go. She looked up to meet his smoldering gaze. 

“What’s the matter Houston; do we… have a problem?” She managed to keep a straight face, just about.

“What do you say we waste some more taxpayer’s money tonight, Scully?” he grinned, his voice hushed, seductive. “Maybe we can cross... the final frontier?”

She halfheartedly rolled her eyes at his pun, but her insides were already aflame. She drew her mouth into a tight, shy smile, and nodded her agreement.

nb. I want everyone to know that I watched the Falcon 9 launch and I managed to refrain myself from using the phrase ‘good orbital insertion’ in this fic. And that was a struggle.

AO3 link here.

[captainsassmanes]

Follow up to Opinion 

California, it turns out, is fucking beautiful.

Expensive, but beautiful.

He’d made something of a routine for himself the last few weeks he’d been on the coast.  He’d quickly found a room to sublet with some roommates who were young but nice enough and an IT job that required almost no effort at all.  The mornings consisted of him waking up early and doing a quick workout.  It seemed like everyone in Cali was walking around like they just fell off a catwalk.  Then he’d eat something and head out to the beach, a mere three blocks down. 

People watching had become a type of therapy for him, imagining the lives of other people. When he was feeling good and generous, he’d grant success and happiness on people he could tell were struggling. When he was lonely and bitter, he’d diagnose them with food poisoning and syphilis, then take it back because he felt badly.

After some loitering in the sand, he’d head to work, put in his eight hours, and head home. A lot of nights, he’d go out with his roommates or a few co-workers, maybe a few friends he’d made at the local bars. Alex discovered, after being forced against his will, that he was good at trivia and karaoke could be fun. 

He’d built a new life for himself, in just a few weeks. It gave him the optimism that he could do so much more with a few months, then a few years.

He was sitting on the beach in his usual spot Tuesday morning. It was just after 7am, a bit chilly and the sun making a late start. He’d been trying to get more comfortable in his own skin out here. He knew he had to let the jeans and sweats go, the weather too warm to keep himself overly covered, but it had been hard. He’d never been ashamed of his leg but people tended to see it and use it as an open invitation to ask some really personal questions. 

But, again, California was different. He answered some questions the first time he wore shorts, but people nodded, thanked him and moved on. People didn’t stare at him and everyone was shockingly respectful of his space.

He was proud to be able to do something as simple as sit on the beach while other people jogged by with his prosthetic on display. He was jarred from his thoughts by a loud voice on an otherwise peaceful beach.

A man was talking into his tiny little headphones in full volume while walking down toward the water. He decided the perfect spot for his morning constitutional was directly in Alex’s eye line. The man, good looking by all accounts, began doing some basic yoga moves while yelling about profit margins and money markets or something.

Alex rolled his eyes. For every laid back, enjoying the life, crunchy Californian he met, there were at least two of these Silicon Valley, wannabe chill businessmen.

“You could do worse.”

Alex’s head snapped to the side and he found a smirking Kyle taking a seat next to him.

“Ooo, sand’s warm.” Kyle wiggled his toes and Alex sat frozen and gaping.

“What the hell are you doing here? How did you find me?” Alex looked around as he spoke, wondering if Kyle had come all this way on his own. He silently cursed to himself as his chest blossomed a warm sensation of hope.

“It was not easy, my friend. When you decide to vanish, you really fucking vanish.”

Kyle leaned back on his hands and raised his chin to the sky, the sun climbing just a bit higher. Kyle looked like this was exactly where he belonged.

“You done kumbaya-ing yet?”

Alex shook his head and moved to stand up, trying to be as graceful as possible with one leg and sand. “Fuck off, Kyle.”

“Hey!” Kyle stood and turned Alex around. “I’m serious, man. We’ve all been freaking out since you left. We demolished the cabin, went through all your research, we called and called and called.” Kyle lowered his voice. “We started thinking you were abducted for Christ’s sake! Either by your psycho family or alien number who the hell knows!”

Alex ran a hand through his hair and looked back on the ocean. It had taken a few days before the texts and phone calls began. Kyle, of course was first. Then Liz, then Isobel. Eventually Maria had called and even Guerin had sent a text. That one just read, Maria’s worried about you. That had been enough for him to throw his phone out and get a new number.

“I just,” Alex sighed, unsure how to word anything at this point. “I needed a fresh start. Desperately. I felt like I was losing touch there. You know?”

Kyle nodded, staring out at the ocean, too. They stood together in comfortable silence, listening to the water and the birds and the people. Life moving forward.

“I”m sorry.” Alex turned with surprise. “I wasn’t a very good friend. None of us were.”

Alex shook his head but Kyle gave him a gentle shove with his shoulder and continued. “Shut up, I’m serious. I’m not gonna apologize for being with Rosa. She’s my sister and an actual zombie; she needed me and I was glad to be there with her. But I didn’t check in. I stopped helping and I know you well enough now. I knew you’d keep going, making yourself insane with work. I knew it but I didn’t take the time to check in. I’m sorry.”

Alex nodded, not trusting his voice to speak just yet. He watched as a little boy ran by, struggling to run in the sand, his father chasing behind him. Both smiling and laughing.

Alex couldn’t help but smile. “I couldn’t stay, Kyle. I broke under the pressure of everything and I finally realized how unhappy I was. And lonely. I figured, I might as well be lonely on a beach.”

Both men laughed, some of the tension floating away. “We all miss you. Some more than others.”

Alex gave a small smile. “You missed me, Valenti?”

Kyle laughed and nodded, eyebrows raised. “I did, Manes. I did indeed. But we both know I’m not who I was talking about.”

Alex’s stomach flipped and he bit his lip. His hip was starting to ache, standing on uneven ground for too long, so he headed over to a bench, certain Kyle would follow. They sat quietly for a minute while Alex gathered his thoughts.

“I love both of them, you know. In different ways, obviously, but I love them both.” He cleared his throat, a lump forming against his will. “I wanted to support them and, if I couldn’t do that, I at least didn’t wanna fuck it up for them. So I tried to smile when I saw them and ask about the other one if I bumped into them somewhere. Mostly, I just tried to stay out of the way.”

He pulled at the skin around his thumb until a bit of blood rose to the surface. “There was a day, I was standing outside of the museum, just staring at it. I don’t think I ever told you but the museum was really important to me. Guerin and I-” he cleared his throat again and looked out at the ocean, steadying his breathing with the waves. “Anyway, Maria knew about it and, well, Guerin, was there. But I was standing there, reminiscing I guess, and they walked out of there together.”

Alex turned his head away and tried as subtly as possible to wipe away the tear that fell. “They looked so happy, Kyle. Smiling and laughing, holding onto each other. I had this thought that maybe I had been in their way, you know? That maybe if I wasn’t there they would have gotten their happy ending sooner.”

Kyle turned toward Alex, shaking his head but Alex couldn’t stop himself now. “I still fucking hated them though.”

He could feel Kyle’s eyes on him, see the shape of his jaw hanging open slightly, but Alex didn’t care. This felt good. “It felt deliberate. Let’s go to the place that means the fucking world to Alex and ruin it.” He sniffed and wiped his nose knowing damn well he couldn’t hide the tears this time.

“I got so drunk that night, I must have passed out at least three separate times. Then I bump into Guerin of all people while I’m barely able to stand and, that was it. I knew I had to go.”

The silence took over again. The beach had started getting a bit busier. A few families, a couple sunbathers, a group that looked like they were getting ready for some volleyball. Always life moving forward.

“I can’t be happy watching him be happy with someone else. I tried, so hard, I really did. But I can’t do it. And knowing it’s Maria? Seeing my best friend with the only man I’ve ever loved? It’s unbearable.” He sniffed again and took a deep breath. “I didn’t even mention all the alien business and my absolutely spectacular family legacy.”

After a few minutes Kyle stood up with a groan and stretched with a big yawn. He put his hands on his hips and looked up and down the beach. “I’m starving. Take me to breakfast.”

Alex’s face was a picture. “What? No. You gotta go back to Roswell and I have to get to work.”

Kyle raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me. First of all, I don’t gotta go anywhere. Second, call out. I’m withering away here. If I don’t get some avocado toast or whatever these hippies eat soon I’m gonna pass out.”

“You’re like a leech, you know?” He took out his phone and sent a text off to his boss feigning a stomach bug. “I can’t get rid of you.”

Kyle threw his arm around Alex and kissed the side of his head. “I’ve missed you too, brother. Now, point me towards the toast!”

[ericsonclan]

Meeting Clementine

Summary: Kenny convinces Lee to give adoption a chance and brings Clementine to meet him for the first time.

Read on A03:

“So, how are you and Duck doing?” Lee asked as he handed his friend Kenny a beer.

Kenny let out a long sigh, taking a swig of the drink before answering. “It’s been some fucking year. Katjaa’s been out of the hospital two weeks now, but it’s gonna take a hell of a lot longer than that for her to really bounce back,”

“She’s a fighter,” Lee took a sip from his own beer, looking round the bar. “She beat cancer; she can make it through the recovery,”

“I sure hope so. We almost lost her back there, Lee. Raising Duck on my own…” Kenny shook his head. “I couldn’t imagine it,” He glanced over at Lee, then looked down at the table. “I heard about you and Claudia. Sorry I couldn’t be there when all of that went down,”

Lee shook his head. “There was nothing that could’ve been done anyway. Claudia’s moved out… and I’m stuck in that big house we’d planned to start a family in. It’s a weird feeling, being in such a huge place all alone,”

Kenny looked like he was about to say something, but then a voice crackled over the microphone. “Alright folks, it’s time for Mueller’s weekly Trivia Night to begin!” Nick, the host, shielded his eyes from the lights as he looked out into the crowd. “Hey, I see we have some familiar faces back after a long time! Lee, Kenny, good to have you back!” There was a round of applause from those in the bar who also recognized them. The pair raised their beers appreciatively. Six years of attending Trivia Night at Mueller’s and they’d never missed a week of it until this last year from hell. With Katjaa in the hospital and Lee’s marriage collapsing around him, it just hadn’t seemed like a priority. Now that they were back though, it felt like life was finally returning to normal in some small way.

“Alright, first question,” the mic crackled again. “Independence Day was first established as a holiday by Congress in what year?”

Lee’s hand came down hard on the buzzer. “1870!”

“That is… correct!” Nick rang the little triangle that dangled from the mic stand while his partner Luke manned the whiteboard that tracked the points.

Lee pumped his fist in satisfaction. Civil War history was his forte, but anything within American history was a good bet for him. He had history and literature covered while Kenny had the sciences down pat.

“Liver!” Kenny called out in response to the question “what is the largest internal organ of the human body”. Another ding from the triangle, another correct answer.

Lee shook his head in good-natured disbelief, taking another drink from his beer. He’d asked Kenny back when they’d met how he remembered so much random knowledge and Kenny had shrugged it off, saying his brain was like some sort of sea sponge, soggy and absorbing everything round it. Now they were back in the proverbial ring and he was still as sharp as ever, hand poised beside the buzzer, ready to strike as soon as the next question was given.

Things progressed smoothly throughout the rest of the night. They didn’t end up sweeping Trivia Night as they had for several weeks in the past, but they’d accrued a respectable score, keeping things close between them and their main competitors while everyone else lagged behind. Now it was dark out though, time to pack things up and head home.

“Lee,” Kenny started, “Before you leave, there’s something I was meaning to talk about with you tonight. Should’ve brought it up earlier, but there just didn’t seem to be a good time,” Lee raised an eyebrow. “Go on. I’m listening,”

Kenny fidgeted nervously with his trucker cap. “I know that before things went south with you and Claudia, the two of you were considering adoption. I was wondering if that’s something you’d still be interested in,” He raised his hands up. “Now of course, if this ain’t a good time for you, you can tell me to fuck right off. But there’s this one girl I’ve been trying to find a good home for for years now, and I think you two might be a good fit. She’s not a bad kid or nothing, it’s just that life seems to like kicking her when she’s down. Figured you could relate,” Kenny had been the one Lee and Claudia had approached with thoughts of adoption back when things were going well. Given his job as a social worker, they knew he could help them through the intricacies of the adoption process. However, they’d been looking into getting a baby. Lee wasn’t sure if he could handle that on his own.

“How old is she?”

“Just turned fifteen,”

Now raising a teenager was another problem in itself. Lee saw that Kenny had noticed the indecision in his eyes.

“I know, I know, it’s not an easy age to start with. Hell, Duck’s the same age right now and some days I think he’s worse than when he was a toddler. But this girl’s special. Kat and I were seriously considering adopting her ourselves before we got news of the cancer. I just want her to have somewhere safe to grow up at least till she ages out of the system. But it doesn’t have to be you if you don’t want it,”

Lee pursed his lips thoughtfully. “What’s this girl’s name?”

“Clementine,”

---

It was about a week later when Lee found himself in his kitchen, anxiously looking out the window as he waited for Kenny to arrive with Clementine. He had decided to give this a shot. He trusted Kenny’s judgment enough for this girl to deserve that at the very least. Lee still wasn’t sure if he was cut out to be a teenager’s dad, but if Clementine was as special as Kenny seemed to believe, then just maybe this could work.

He set down his coffee mug as he saw Kenny’s truck pulling into the driveway. Stepping out to his front porch, he gave an awkward wave before walking forward to greet them. Kenny hopped out of the truck, giving Lee a quick hug and patting him firmly on the back.

“You ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,”

Kenny nodded, motioning to the young girl who’d just stepped out of the car. “Lee, this is Clementine. Clementine, Lee. I’m gonna head out for a few hours, give you two some time to get to know each other, then I’ll be back to pick Clementine up. You good, kiddo?”

The girl nodded noncommittally, looking around the outside of the house with a sort of jaded boredom.

Lee cleared his throat awkwardly, extending an arm to the house. “Wanna come in? I just make a fresh pot of coffee,”

Clementine nodded, following without a word. The kitchen was immediately to the left of the entryway. As Clementine took a seat, Lee searched for another mug. “Sorry there’s not much décor around the house. My wife and I had just moved here back when we were planning to start a family, but, well, things happened and now it’s just me in this big ol’ place without a clue about interior design,” Way to go, Lee. Telling this kid about your history as a sad divorcee is a great way to kick things off.

Clementine simply nodded politely, taking the cup of coffee that was offered her. Lee had a fleeing panicked thought as he wondered whether it was appropriate to give coffee to children. Then he remembered Starbucks was a thing. Shit, Lee, you’ve gotta calm down. She’ll smell your fear. Lee took a long sip of his coffee, watching Clementine. She seemed like a normal enough kid, though a bit closed off. On her head she wore a baseball hat emblazoned with a blue D. He wondered what it stood for. “You a baseball fan?”

“My dad was. He gave me the cap,”

Now that he looked more closely, Lee could see how worn out the thing was. Dirt and dust were caked over every inch of it, and maybe even a flew splatters of blood. The embroidery on the D was starting to come loose in one corner, causing the tip of the letter to curl out from the hat. The cap must mean a lot to her. “You know, Morgantown High has a pretty good baseball team from what I hear. The coach there used to be in the major leagues,”

“That’s cool,” She didn’t sound impressed.

Lee cleared his throat. “Have you had anything to eat yet? I should have run out and grabbed some sandwiches for us,”

“I had a granola bar,”

“Now that’s no sort of proper breakfast!” Lee walked over toward his fridge, searching for what he had handy that was healthy and fresh. It was pretty bare, just the basic like eggs, milk… Now wait a minute. Lee walked over to the pantry, rooting around in it for a minute before finding what he was looking for. He popped his head out of the pantry door to look at Clementine. “Any chance you’d be interested in making some pancakes with me? We’ve got eggs, bacon, O.J… we could make it a full on breakfast feast,”

Clementine’s eyes widened a bit at the offer. She looked pleased though. “Sure, that sounds fun,”

“Alrighty then! You get out the ingredients, and I’ll find us some bowls and pans,” With that they set off on their missions, Clementine assembling the milk, eggs and pancake mix while Lee banged around in the pots and pans drawer before finding something fitting. He wasn’t sure where any of the old cookbooks were (if Claudia had even left any), so they Googled a recipe and got started from there. As Clementine stirred the mix together, inspiration struck Lee. “You know what? Now that I think of it, I’m sure I have some bananas stored away somewhere. Do you like those in pancakes?”

Clementine nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. “Do you have any.. chocolate maybe?”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” Lee reached up onto the top pantry shelf. “It’s a bit musty, but that’ll cook off, right? Worth a shot,”

Clementine chuckled, taking a cup measure and ladling the first pancake onto the frying pan.

Lee cautiously plopped a few pieces of chocolate on top of the bubbling mass, watching it with curiosity. “Let’s see what else we can find that’d go well with pancakes, shall we?”

In the end, they found the bananas, a stray container of blueberries, some stale walnuts that Lee threw in with his own banana pancakes, and a few raspberries. Lee was worried there wasn’t any syrup, but Clementine took the initiative, bravely scouring the depths of his pantry until she found it. She plated the pancakes while Lee finished frying up the bacon. They sat down together once everything was ready, their mouths watering.

Lee watched in contentment as Clementine attacked her stack of pancakes. Damn, this girl could eat. It made him wonder if her last foster home had been feeding her enough. The sleeves of her shirt were pushed up to avoid getting syrup on them. He noticed a nasty looking scar sticking out by her left sleeve, but decided it was best not to ask about it. She also had a scar indenting her forehead, small yet noticeable. This girl looked like she’d been through hell and back. He could see why Kenny wanted to protect her.

“Do you… want to hear a little bit about me?” Lee offered. “I’m not super interesting. I work at WVU as a history professor, specializing in American history and the Civil War,”

“I like history,” Clementine responded through a mouth full of pancakes.

“Well, alright then!” Lee felt the history geek in him getting excited at the prospect of a new student to take under his wing. He started going through some of his favorite historical events: the Battle of Fort Sumter, Antietam, the Emancipation Proclamation and Juneteenth… Clementine listened with what appeared to be genuine interest, munching happily on her pancakes and providing surprisingly insightful questions from time to time. Lee found himself losing track of the time. He was genuinely surprised when he heard Kenny’s truck pull up in the driveway.

“So soon?” Lee’s face fell. He saw Clementine’s do the same, looking down at the table. Lee leaned forward conspiratorially. “Maybe if I invite him in for a cup of coffee, we can get a few more minutes. How does that sound?”

Clementine nodded appreciatively. “Yeah, let’s do it,”

Lee stepped out to meet Kenny as he made his way up the steps of the front porch. “Back so soon?”

“Soon? It’s been almost two and a half hours,” A smile crossed Kenny’s face. “I see the two of you hit it off then?”

“She’s a good kid. I can see why you’re fond of her. That foster home that she’s at right now, are they feeding her right?”

“Clem’s actually between foster homes right now. Her bag’s in the back of my truck,”

“You mean…”

“If you’d like, we can sign the paperwork for you to foster her starting today,”

Lee felt a rush of excitement run through his veins. “Alright, let’s do it,”

He and Kenny stepped inside, walking into the kitchen just as Clementine was finishing the last of her pancakes.

“Hi, Clementine. Have a good time?” Kenny asked.

Clementine nodded, but looked down as she got up. “Is it time to go?”

“Actually, Lee here was wondering if you’d be interested in staying. What do ya think, Clem? Would you like to stay here?”

Clementine’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Seriously?”

Lee nodded, a warm smile on his face. “You’re welcome for as long as you want to stay. There’s a guest room just down the hall. It’s nothing fancy, but feel free to move anything around in there however you like so you feel at home,”

Clementine seemed genuinely touched at his words. She looked away, clearly unsure how to react to such good news.

Kenny chuckled, tossing her the keys. “Go ahead and grab your stuff. I’ll get Lee started on the paperwork,”

Clementine caught them, bounding out the door before either of them could say anything else.

“Well,” Kenny placed a hand on Lee’s shoulder, “You’re a dad now. Or a surrogate dad at least. I wish you the best of luck,”

“Thanks,” Lee looked out the window, watching Clementine as she hurriedly grabbed her stuff. “I think it’s gonna be a really good thing. For the both of us,”

“I couldn’t agree more,”

[astraywriter]

The Damn Weather

Relationship: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: none!

Summary: Steve does his best to comfort you after a thunderstorm knocks the power out.

A/N: Inspired by the fact I just dealt with a 20+ hour power outage due to a bad storm coming through. I had a lot of time on my hands and it included thinking of this fic

Masterlist

CRACK. CRASH. BOOM.

You jumped out of a sound sleep when unsettling noises from the night sky pierced your ears. The thunder shook the room after a strike of blinding lightning illuminated the darkness. Rain was was being thrown at your panoramic windows via vicious gusts of wind. Your breathing was heavy as you tried to reel your emotions back in. You were never quite the fan of thunderstorms, especially ones that occurred in the dead of night. 

Even though you quickly got your breathing under control, your emotions were all over the place and keeping you wide awake. You sat in the bed, trying to convince yourself to just go back to bed (God — you felt like you were being such a baby!) but your racing heart wasn’t having any of it. It’s just weather, you thought. It’s just the damn weather and it’s controlling you.

You glanced at your boyfriend Steve to double check you hadn’t woken him up with your outburst. A tired grumble and sigh proved he was still asleep — completely and utterly unaffected by the storm. You felt a tinge of jealousy at his calm state, but brushed it off and went to watch some TV in the living room. You just had to get your mind off it and pray the storm would pass quickly. 

Television programming at 2 in the morning was fairly scarce you quickly found out. Nearly every channel (it felt like) went to paid programming, much to your demise, but thankfully some forgotten movie channel was cycling through tv movie dramas, so you sat back and did your best to get lost in the cheesy acting. It was going fairly well for a while and you even felt like you may fall back asleep but then it happened.

One lightning crash and your entire home went dark. No hesitation, no warning… just pitch black darkness engulfing you.

You can do this, you thought. You can go grab flashlights in the dark like a grown woman without waking your god damn oblivious boyfriend-

CRASH.

A crack of lightning caught you off guard causing you to let out a loud yelp. Seconds later, footsteps came marching into the living room, alerting you your outburst had accidentally woke your boyfriend. 

"Y/N?!" Steve called out as he entered the living area. He could just barely make out your figure huddled on the couch in the darkness.

"Hi," You mumbled and sinked more into the couch. Lightning struck once again and illuminated your boyfriend face, giving you a clear look at the concern written all over it.

"Are you okay?" He asked as he took a seat next to you and swiftly pulled you into him.

You sighed, "The storm knocked the power out."

Your body was tense as you stared into the unknowing darkness of the apartment. You never did like storms — especially when you were younger — and they always seemed to get worse when the sweet comfort of light abandoned you. It was silly for you to still be so rigid towards storms, and you knew that, but there was just a feeling about them you couldn’t quite shake.

Unknowingly to you, Steve was watching you and the fear your eyes held. He knew you hated storms, but he never quite assumed power outages would also be on your list of fears. Knowing you wouldn’t be coming back to bed anytime soon, he had to find something to ease your brain. He thought he had a fine idea, but first he desperately needed some kind of light that wasn’t just lightning. 

"Okay," Steve nodded. "You sit here, and I’ll grab candles and flashlights."

He went to stand up, only to be pulled back by your gentle hand. 

"No," You whispered. Steve cocked his head in confusion. "Don’t leave me alone."

Your words pierced his heart. He grabbed your hand, pulling you up from the couch and into his arms. He held you there for a moment, just letting you breathe and get your thoughts together. After a moment, Steve broke the silence.

"It’s okay, hon," He whispered. "We’ll get them together."

You held your boyfriend’s hand tightly as you two maneuvered through the dark apartment. There was a casual grumble from Steve when he’d accidentally hit his foot on a piece of furniture which made you laugh a bit.

Finally, you two located the candles and flashlights in one of the kitchen drawers. You turned on a couple of the flashlights and pointed them to the ceiling, giving you a makeshift lamp. Steve lit the candles and placed them around the living area. The brightness eased you greatly and allowed you to fully see your boyfriend’s face — which was always a welcoming sight.

"Better?" Steve asked as you two stood in the dimly lit living room.

You shrugged. Your eyes glanced over to the open windows. The rain was still beating down and thunder rumbled throughout your home. You wanted to climb away and hide, but you couldn’t take your eyes off the storm no matter how horrible it made you feel. This, unknowingly to you, didn’t go missed by Steve.

"Well," Steve’s voice broke the silence. "How about we find some board games to play?"

You turned to him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Board games?"

Truthfully, you couldn’t really remember the last time you played a board game. They seemed to phase a bit out of your life as you grew up, but you knew Steve enjoyed them enough to keep a few stashed in the living room. 

"Yeah," he shrugged. "Or we can just sit here in the dark, but I have a sneaking suspicion that’s not what you wanna do."

You let out an embarrassed chuckle and agreed to his proposition of playing board games. You noted he seemed slightly too excited to pull out the games, but it warmed your heart he was trying to distract you.

Steve proceeded to pull out various board games ranging from skill based, trivia, to luck based. He pulled a couple of candles to the coffee table and began setting up one of the games on the floor beside it. He looked heavenly in the glow of the candles, once again making your heart melt at your not only very sweet, but also very attractive boyfriend. 

You were pulled out of your daze by an exceptionally loud crack of thunder. Your heart began racing again, but you didn’t have much time to dwell on it before Steve pulled you down to the floor with him. 

The game of choice, you saw, was Connect 4. You chuckled at the childish skill game, but when you got into it you found out Steve plays to win. You thought, since you were the distressed one, it would be a light hearted game. You were wrong. Minutes in and Steve was trying to play mind games with you in order to win. It caught you quite off guard so you had to step up your game. 

"You sure you wanna do that, darling?" Steve teased as you went to place your red chip  in one of the slots. He was just trying to distract you, and you knew that, but you still hesitated on the initial drop. It made sense from your point of view, so you shot your boyfriend a look and dropped the chip.

What you thought was gonna be your ultimate comeback turned into Steve winning within three moves. He hadn’t let you win once in the five games you two played. You threw your chips down in frustration.

"You’re cheating!" You squeaked. 

Steve let out a laugh and reset the game. "How could I be cheating?"

"You’re… you’re using psychological warfare!" You declared.

"No, honey, I’m just the good." Your boyfriend scoffed, shooting you a proud smirk.  You huffed in annoyance. 

"I want another round." You demanded. Steve happily agreed.

It was late into early mornings when you were just about to give up. The rain had stopped, but you didn’t pay much attention to it. You were just determined to kick your boyfriend’s ass in Connect 4. 

"Finally!" You screeched in victory. It was around 6 AM and you had finally won a game. You two eventually lost count in how many games were played, but this was the one that mattered. 

Just after you declared your victory, the lights flickered back on around you. The power outages has basically escaped your mind during the Connect 4 marathon, but you were insanely thankful it was back. 

"You won," Steve shrugged and began packing up the game. 

You let out a yawn. "Thank you."

"For what?" Your boyfriend asked as he placed the board games back on the shelf. You walked around blowing out the candles.

"Just for getting my mind off it all."

Steve gave you a kiss and slung his arm over your shoulders, leading you back to the bedroom. You greeted your warm bed with open arms. Cuddled up next to Steve, you laid there waiting for sleep to engulf you.

"Gosh, I can’t believe I beat you in Connect 4."

"Yeah, doll," Steve chuckled. "You sure got me."

…

"Steve, did you let me win?"

"Good night, darling."

[slash-me-up]

Snakes and Shakes

Situation: Pre fame Guns and Roses gets all sick at the same time right before their first gig as a band and you end up having to care for five men/puppies all by yourself.

I messed around with the timeline and the living situation a little bit, so forgive me and enjoy!

As you woke up in the morning, you noticed how the house seemed oddly quiet. Normally, at least one of your five roommates would be doing some sort of loud activity at ungodly hours that would wake you, the neighbors and the whole street up. You decided to appreciate the good night’s sleep and took it as a good omen, getting dressed with the leather jacket you stole from Izzy, straightening your long (H/C) hair and even having the time to perfect your eyeliner, before making it downstairs.

You quickly realized when you were in the downstairs common area that the good omen was actually a distress signal as Axl threw up right in front of you onto the floor as he laid on the couch seemingly oblivious to your presence. “Axl !” You exclaimed loudly making the redhead fall of shock right onto the dirty vomit-covered floor. He managed to drag himself onto an area of the floor that was mostly clean and lean himself against the wall. “Jesus, Y/N, you fucking scared me."

He looked like shit, vomit on his face, his pale skin even paler and with a green undertone

“Axl, what the hell did you drink last night to make you throw up like this? Don’t lie to me, you have a gig today.” You were more like a babysitter than a actual roommate, and never did you feel this more than when Axl said, “I didn’t drink anything, I promise Y/N. Slash’s snake bit me last night and I got some weird tropical disease.”

“You know, Slash’s snakes are just ball pythons, Axl. They aren’t venomous, they just strangle their food.” You rationally explained to Axl how snakes work, a conversation you and Slash had had to have 15 times since they had all moved in together.

“But, Y/N, Slash filled a cup up with Jack Daniels and told me it was Coca Cola so I drank it all and it burned for 2 hours, so I don’t trust him. I know his snakes made me sick and there’s nothing you can do, just let me die!” Axl, being as dramatic as ever, cried a little as you had a mini breakdown in your mind about how you were going to convince this grown man to calm down about a snake. You grabbed one of Duff’s shirts from the couch and wiped the vomit and tears from Axl’s face, before grabbing his hand and pulling him up to take him to his room.

As you and Axl walked slowly to his room, with your arm around his shoulder, you heard vomiting noises coming from Slash’s and Duff’s room. “Axl, go lay down in Steven’s room, it’s closer than yours. I’ll be back to check on you in a minute.” He dazedly nodded and opened Steven’s door as you knocked on Slash’s door.

“Slash, Duff, everything alright in there?” You heard both Slash and Duff grunt as if they were on their deathbed and you decided to open the door. The sight you saw there immediately made you wish you hadn’t.

On top of the boys usual mess of clothes, food wrappers and empty alcohol bottles say two separate but equally gross piles of vomit. You backed against Duff’s mattress, the furthest point away from the sick liquid, and sat down on the side. The pale green blonde figure lying on the mattress weakly moaned, “Y/N, I need some vodka, this is a killer hangover.”

You chuckled, feeling Duff’s forehead. It was like a fire and your eyes widened. If the entire band got this sickness, there was no way they’d play the concert tonight. The concert would finally give them enough money to actually pay 50% of the rent instead of the usual 10% that they had managed not to spend on every sin in the world. You moved over to Slash’s side and brushed his hair away from his face.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” Slash sleepily asked.

“Just checking up on you, honey.” He laughed a little at the affectionate nickname which you most often used to tease them but now was completely serious. If this was worse than a simple flu, then you’d have to sell a kidney to get these men to a hospital with no insurance. And Slash, like Duff, was burning up. Great.

You assured Slash everything would be okay before going to check on Steven. Opening the door you saw Steven and Axl laying on one mattress, and green. You decided to get everyone glasses of water from the kitchen and hopefully whatever safe meds lay around.

As you went over to the kitchen, you saw Slash’s python, Clyde. It too was laying down, eyes half closed like its owner. You touched it and it stayed still, the only sign of life being its tongue moving out of its mouth. You couldn’t help but think if Axl was right, but you decided to question them all later. You grabbed the glasses of water and 4 Advil and returned to the rooms.

They laid around the house for the next two days. You quickly found out that Izzy was the only one that wasn’t sick and kind of forcefully recruited him into being your assistant. Together, you restrained Steven from going out to a party, Axl from beating up Slash when he remarked that Axl and his snakes could be twins if Axl had a sunnier disposition, and Duff from playing his bass at the concert by himself with no other members.

Speaking of the concert, you never forgot the asshole club owner who yelled at you for canceling it and told you that you should pay him back by being one of his dancers. You’d worked at strip clubs before, that was where you had met the boys, but the sleazy way in which he said it made you and Izzy wanna beat him up over the phone. And then once Izzy met him in person, well he got beat up in real life as well and gave the boys the 500 dollars for the concert as promised.

The guys were eventually all back to their old selves within the next day or so, and you decided to investigate the cause of the illness, thinking it would be something like Duff forgetting to cook the meals and eating raw meat, a thing he had done when Axl had asked for his burger to be extra rare. When you asked Duff about dinner, he said nothing was wrong except one thing.

“Well, Slash’s snake kinda slithered around in the leftover lasagna after I took it out of the freezer and I let him have some of the meat, but Y/N it was in there for only like a min.”

Goddamnit Axl was right. Not about everything, which brought you some sanity, but the disease did come from one of Slash’s snakes.

That 500 dollars first went to buying Clyde a new escapeproof cage and getting a library card to look up the exact disease with Slash. He found it rather quickly around with 10 other books which you carried all the way home. You smiled for the next seven days as he told Axl all the snake trivia he could remember as Axl got more and more angry.

“Y/N, I’m gonna punch Slash this time, I mean it-“

“Did you know that a snake’s heart can move around in it’s body to make room for food, Axl?”

“Really? Like down to its tail? That’s fucking messed up, Slash.”

You also smiled because with the 500 dollars they paid the rent and also made posters for their next concert and their first as a whole band. You helped them tape posters to every street pole and wall they came across as well as all over the club where they were performing, which had a nice owner who gave them 200 in advance as well as 500 after.

And you smiled the biggest as you looked at your boys from the crowd. They were killing it and the audience was dancing and holding up their lighters at the right moments. As they launched into their new song, “Welcome to the Jungle,” you heard a girl say, “These guys are so fucking good, I think they’re gonna be stars.”

And at that moment, you thought they would be stars too, as the bright light shone on them like angels and Axl’s voice drowned the rowdy audience out to nothing but silence.

[delible-ink]

Is it Folsen Yet?

Prompt 6: Au’s/Class Swap Modern AU of our boys getting together. Friends to first date--plus a community garden!

It was tradition, a raucous ritual of sorts. None of them were certain exactly when it had started, but they knew it was Jester who dragged Beau out of their apartment, and who adopted the shy half-orc who was sitting alone at the bar that first night. The rest of them joined shortly after, through one connection or another. Seven friends, in pairs or trios, found themselves crammed into a booth each week, having drinking contests, talking about life, finding commonality and making space for each other.

Every Folsen, without fail, The Mighty Nein could be found at The Rooster and the Raven, or as Jester and Molly had affectionately renamed it, the Cock and Crow. They had earned their own nickname from someone mistaking Caleb’s Zemnian “no”, and a particularly poor showing at an ill-attempted trivia night. They hadn’t gone back for trivia again, but the name stuck.

It was the perfect place for them. Good coffee, excellent pastries and a shocking variety of booze in one spot, plus it was always open. It was the only place outside of Nicodranas that Jester could get her hot cocoa exactly the way she liked it--with heaps of cinnamon.

The Rooster and the Raven became home. They were here when Fjord got his first job captaining a fishing boat, here when Beau decided she was going to cut contact with her parents, even while trying to keep tabs on her little brother. Jester threw her 21st birthday party here, and still didn’t like any of the alcohol she tried, and Molly brought everyone here for drinks after he convinced the girls to get matching tattoos with him.

They were here before the car crash, when Molly was killed by a drunk driver, when they met Caduceus, a healer who was biking past, and who tried to save their bright, beautiful friend. They were here after the funeral, and Caduceus came because he felt connected to them. He’d been with Molly at the end. They stayed on into the early hours of the morning, and the owner didn’t mind, because they knew what had happened, and in a way, felt like they’d lost one of their children that night. They canceled everyone’s tabs.

Caduceus stuck around after that night, and the Mighty Nein adopted him eagerly. He had his first (and last) whiskey here. He drew up the plans here for a community garden with Yasha with a brilliant graffiti mural that would have made Molly proud. He was here when Caleb had finally told them all, half drunk and shaking like a leaf, about the boarding school, and his parents’ death, and how, no matter how he tried, he couldn’t accept that it wasn’t his fault. Nott had held Caleb’s hand the whole time. A couple quiet tears dripped from her cheeks as she listened to Caleb speak. She’d known the story for a while now, and it still broke her heart. Caduceus felt, not for the first time, a strong desire to pull Caleb close to his chest and just hold him. That night he’d settled for being allowed to put an arm around Caleb’s shoulders and tell him he was proud of him for talking about it.

It had been over a year since Molly died. Months since Caleb had told his friends about the past he kept so secret, and both he and Caduceus had noticed the changes. Caleb would buy Cad’s tea, even though he was usually more broke than the rest of them. He would insist. Caduceus would take the far corner of the booth, and Caleb would slide in next to him, and when he got drunk, he’d slump to the side, into Caduceus, and smile sheepishly when Cad put his arm around Caleb, steadying and warm. Caduceus walked Caleb home on those nights, helped him get out of his boots and into bed. Sometimes Caleb would ask him to stay, and his hand would linger on Caduceus’ cheek, his eyes shining like topaz, pale and bright. It stabbed deep into Caduceus’ chest. He couldn’t tell if Caleb saw a ghost in him, or if these were just feelings he was too afraid of to bring into the light. Whatever the case, Cad’s answer was always the same:

“Ask me again when you’re sober.”

He hoped that maybe, just maybe, one day he would. If he even remembered these moments.

Caleb remembered, he remembered everything, but he hadn’t ever gotten the courage to ask. Caduceus was too good for him, far too good. He deserved better than a trauma-busted orphan with trust issues and an arcane history degree, trying to scrape by on odd jobs.

After a month of that question and that answer, Caduceus decided on a different course of action than waiting and wondering. It was a crisp mid-autumn morning, and of course, it was Folsen. Caleb woke to a knock at his door. He threw on pants and a shirt, scrambling to answer, thinking up excuses for his late rent. He wasn’t expecting to be met by the warm, towering presence of Caduceus, bundled in a cozy sweater and an aqua scarf. “Hey there.”“C-Caduceus. Hi. Everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. Everything’s fine. I was just going to go to the garden, see how my pumpkins are coming along. Thought I’d see if you wanted to join.” Cad raised his eyebrows, a little nervous, a little hopeful, hands shoved in his pockets. His ears swished back and forth. Caleb felt his heart melt.

“Uh, um, ja. Just give me a minute. Come in. Gotta find my shoes.” Caduceus ducked into the doorway, made his way to the kitchen and leaned casually against the counter while Caleb scrambled to find clean socks. He tossed some water on his wild hair, trying to flatten it into something presentable. There was a very unruly cowlick he could do nothing about. Cad’s eyes followed him. He thought Caleb had never looked better.

“Sorry. I can’t remember where I put my scarf.”“Here.” Cad offered. He took his off, and wrapped it around Caleb.

“There. It matches your eyes.”

They stood there for a moment, Caduceus toying with the ends of the scarf before he let go with an awkward laugh.

“Let’s go see about those pumpkins, Ja?”

“Yeah. Pumpkins. Yes.” Caduceus couldn’t keep the smile off of his face as they walked, inhaling the brisk air, and stealing glances of the copper halo the sun cast around Caleb.

Caleb watched as Caduceus greeted his plants, running his fingers over the leaves of some, complementing the gourds and squash on their progress, checking the cabbages for slugs, and finally appraising the pumpkins. Caleb wished to be one of those plants, soaking up Caduceus’ radiance, his gentle caress, his kindness.  He blushed at the thought. Caduceus stood up, brushing the dirt from his hands onto his pants. “Well, they look very happy, but they’re not ready yet. I can take a butternut though. There’s one that’s ready for roasting.” He pointed. “Would you pick it for me?” Caduceus opened up his backpack, and Caleb nodded.

“I’ve never eaten butternut squash. Is it good?”

“Oh, it’s wonderful. I like to roast it with apples and pecans. I would love to make some for you. I think you’d like it.”

“Maybe at Jester’s next potluck?”

“Mm. Maybe. I was thinking sooner than that.” Caduceus put the bag over his shoulder again.“Could I make you dinner tonight?”

“Well, it’s Folsen. We’ve got to get to the Cock and Crow...I wouldn’t want to rush you...”

“I’ve got all day. Spending it with you seems like it’d be really nice.”

Caleb looked at his shoes, and his hair fell in his eyes.

“Caleb?” Caduceus reached out and tucked Caleb’s hair behind his ear, lifting his face up to meet his gaze. “Would you like that? To spend the day with me?”

Caleb couldn’t look away. That gentle, open expression Caduceus wore had him transfixed.

He swallowed hard, and his mouth went dry. “Ja. Yes. I would, I would like that very much, Caduceus.”

“Caleb?”“Ja Caduceus?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Caleb closed his eyes and leaned up in response, and Caduceus met him with silken lips and a delighted hum.

Folsen had been their favorite day of the week for a while, but today, today was the best one yet.

[flamingo-writes]

Porcelain Doll — Erwin Smith x Reader

Erwin Week — October 17 2018 “Tenderness”

Summary: You got badly injured, however, you’re not going to let that stop you from enjoying a night with Erwin.

Chapter Trivia: I had to read A LOT of Erwin fics/hc/imagines to gain inspiration. Erwin is one of my favourite characters, but I’m not a fangirl, so I needed a lot of inspiration.

Word Count: 1137

Warnings: mentions of smut

As your sight adjusted to the amount of light around you, you came to the realisation that you were in the hospital. You tried to recall the memory, and blurry images of a titan pushing you towards a tree flashed briefly. You head feel lighter, and a light pounding pain on your leg, and your back. You looked around, and saw an IV connected to your arm, and several medication on the nightstand next to yours. Your eyes managed to read one of the bottles, as big black letters spelled “MORPHINE”. The bottle had liquid inside, making you wonder if they’d injected you some of it.

“Y/N, you’re awake!” Erwin said holding your hand. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m a bit dizzy”

“It’s the anaesthesia wearing off. You’ll feel better in a few more minutes” One of the nurses said as she proceeded to check on your vitals.

“What happened?”

“A titan practically threw you to a tree. You fractured four ribs, twisted an ankle, and you have a mild concussion”

“We are all amazed that it’s a mild one. It should be a lot more severe…” The nurse added.

“I’m so glad you’re awake now…” Erwin said leaning forward and kissing your forehead. “You’ve been unconscious for almost two days now”

You couldn’t recall a single moment before and after the accident. You just remember swinging with the ODM, attacking titans and then waking up in the hospital room. The doctors kept you under observation for another 24 hours, and then let you go home, but scheduled you an appointment in three days to make sure everything was alright.

Erwin took you home, to a small apartment where you two lived. You’d been together for almost two years, and it was quite a story. You’d been a part of his team for a while now, and you two worked in such sync, people believed you two were able of reading each other’s minds by just looking at the other’s eyes. And eventually, everyone became aware of how much you liked each other, but neither of you made a single move, since the two of you thought that giving in into each other’s feelings would end up in a much worse pain if something were to happen the other during one of the expeditions.

It kept going like this until Levi snapped at Erwin, telling him how he was going to regret not disclosing his feelings to you when he had the chance. Levi’s scolding stuck in Erwin’s head for days until he finally decided to make something about it. And in a funny turn of events, the two of you had become stronger, having another reason to stay alive was the push you needed when all hope seemed to be lost.

Erwin helped you make your way to your room, since your head hurt, your chest hurt, and you had a twisted ankle. He made you some tea, and in the meantime you simply stayed awake, staring into the ceiling.

“Have you taken your meds?” Erwin said, walking inside the room.

“Nope. I should...everything hurts” You said as you sat on the bed.

“Is it bad?” Erwin asked concerned.

“Not really. Just annoying” You hissed breathlessly as you grabbed the amber bottle.

The two of you napped for a while. You lying on the back, as Erwin was facing you, with his hand on your belly. Normally, the two of you would snuggle close to each other, but in your state, it was preferably that you didn’t. Not until your ribs were better.

After a while, Erwin woke up and worked on some paperwork he had to hand in soon. After the sun had set, and Erwin decided to leave his work for the day, he dragged his feet back to the room. The gentle squeak of the door woke you up, and you stretched your arms, as he chuckled to himself. He lied on the bed next to you, resting on his elbow as he leaned down to kiss you.

“I love you” He whispered.

“And I love you” You answered back sleepily, and pulling him in for another kiss.

His hands ran delicately over your skin, being careful not to hurt you. You ran your fingers through his hair, deepening the kiss, as your free hand went down his neck and underneath his shirt, massaging his shoulders.

Erwin broke the kiss, resting his forehead on yours.  He saw that look in your eyes. A look that immediately turned him on. That particular hungry stare he loved to see whenever you had time alone after expeditions. Normally, before leaving for a mission the two of you would have the kind of slow passionate sex as if you knew one of you was going to die. And after returning home, you’d have rough and lustful sex, trying to shove off all the stress from the mission.  However, you were in no conditions for rough sex.

“N-no, we can’t” He muttered hesitantly. “You’re injured”

“You don’t have to slam me against the wall” You whispered. “It doesn’t have to be rough. Erwin, I want you” You mouthed.

As much as your words seemed to scratch his head seductively, he was still worried about your injuries. However, you were right. It didn’t have to be rough. Not like you usually did. He blushed, and looked down as his eyes met yours.

“I should stop spoiling you this much” He chuckled and leaned forward, kissing you slowly and gently. “If I hurt you, tell me” He breathed.

“I will”

He moved on top of you, resting his elbows to your sides, trying not to put his weight on you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, keeping him close, as you made out. 

It was slow, delicate, and yet as passionate as ever. Erwin treated you so delicately, it hurt. It didn’t physically hurt, but it made you wish you weren’t injured so he could drag you up and down as he normally did. You still enjoyed this particular soft Erwin, who treated you as porcelain.

He left gentle kisses all over your neck and collar bones. Slow deep thrusts blurring your sight, and making you moan his name.

Even though Erwin had to keep in mind that you were injured, and couldn’t let his mind get carried away, he still enjoyed this slow session. The two of you lasted longer than usual, and after you were done, Erwin kept leaving a trail of gentle kisses all over your arms, shoulders and neck.

“Oh, the things I’m going to do to you once I’m all healed up” You sighed, as he chuckled with his face between your neck and shoulder.

“Is that a threat?” He smirked.

“Is a promise”

“You better keep it. In the meantime, you’re my porcelain doll” He breathed kissing your neck.

[miss-noo-na]

Crush (Part 2)

Part:   1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5

Title: Crush

Rating: PG-13 

Changkyun locked himself away in the studio the rest of the day and you puttered around the apartment like you usually did. The last few days were nice, getting to sleep in and catch up on some TV shows, but you felt increasingly bored hanging around here by yourself all the time. None of your friends lived nearby, and Hyunwoo was always busy. You thought about going out on your own, but wondered how long that could occupy you?

When Hyunwoo came home, he met up with Changkyun in the studio and since they seemed consumed in their project, you took it upon yourself to make dinner. When they filtered out of the room an hour or so later, chatting away, their voices faded as the smell of spaghetti wafted through the air.

“You cooked?” Hyunwoo asked, coming into the kitchen, and you nodded proudly. Your meatsauce had just finished simmering and you were pulling out a stack of plates.

You brought the food over to the island where they had gone to sit, still talking, only now you could hear the conversation.

“Where is it?” Hyunwoo asked, his eyes gleaming when he saw the plate presented in front of him. He dug in immediately, but still listened to Changkyun’s response.

“The dive downtown, you know the one.” He replied, and threw you a thankful smile as you put down his plate.

“Where’s what? What’s going on? Something cool? Can I come?” You asked in eager succession, sitting down at the end of the island and facing them both with a beaming smile.

Changkyun looked across at your brother in question, who shook his head without hesitation. He chewed his food before he responded.

“Changkyun has a show, and no you can not.”

You sat back and furrowed your brow.

“Excuse me? Have we met?” You said, extending your hand toward him mockingly. “I’m a grown ass woman, who can make her own decisions. And you are?”

Changkyun laughed, tossing his head as he did so and you couldn’t help but smile at the response. Hyunwoo only stared at you, not at all amused.

“You don’t need to be hanging out at that place.” He explained without really explaining, and you sighed.

“But I suppose you’ll be there, right?” You said, and he was quiet a moment.

“Well, yeah.”

“Perfect, then you can keep an eye on me if you’re so worried.”

“It’ll be fine.” Changkyun cut in to your defense. “It’s just a show, let her have some fun.”

He gave you a sideways glace and you wanted to blush, but that wouldn’t help your case.

“I’ve been cooped up in this apartment for days. If I don’t go out and do something I’m only going to be ten times more annoying. I’m going to make you watch every crappy movie I have.”

Hyunwoo chewed thoufhtfully, and he didn’t look like he wanted to, but you could see how his resolve dissolved as his body relaxed.

“Fine.” He mumbled, and you clapped your hands together in excitement.

“But we’re leaving as soon as Changkyun’s set is over.” Hyunwoo said in warning, and you fluttered your fingertips at him, “Yeah, yeah sure.”

The show was the following weekend, and you were almost embarrassed at yourself for how excited you were. You’d gone out in college, but usually just to local pubs and neighborhood bars that did trivia nights and hosted Greek events. It usually wasn’t your thing. At least this would be something new, something interesting, and despite yourself you were intrigued about seeing Changkyun perform.

When you were getting ready that night, Hyunwoo kept walking down the hall passed the cracked bathroom door. He acted like he had a reason for it, but you caught him peaking in at you putting your make-up on with a look of concern.

“Haven’t you spent enough time getting ready?” He asked, his 5th time passed the door. You turned away from the mirror and shot him a look through the crack.

“I only have one eye done.” You said, and he stared back at you like he had no idea what that meant.

“Which means no.” You said, and pushed the door shut in his face. You heard him curse on the other side.

The worry on his features only deepened when you finally left the bathroom and he got a good look at you. Hanging around the house in your sweats and no make-up had lulled him into a false sense of security that you were still just his baby sister. Now, with you all done-up, you could tell he was regretting letting you come along.

He opened his mouth to say something about it, but he seemed to realize he was overreacting. There was nothing revealing about the outfit, just….mature, and you could tell it bothered him. However, he was going to keep it to himself for now and you were grateful. He’d have to get used to it sooner or later.

You arrived at the club not long after, in a seedier part of town that was alive with dive bars on every corner and people spilling out into the streets.  Hyunwoo made sure you were close behind him as you walked into the crowded club, and you couldn’t help but smile at him every time he glanced back at you. It was completely unnecessary, but you were glad he felt the need to look out for you.

It took a few minutes, but you finally located Changkyun at a table with some other people. When he spotted you, he stood up and waved you both over. As you approached, he didn’t sit down right away, greeting his friend and then, once turning his attention to greet you, made absolutely no qualms about checking you out. When his eyes finished wandering, he locked eyes with you and smiled.

You were glad it was dark in there, because maybe he hadn’t seen the flush on your cheeks as you quickly took a seat. As you did so, you stole a glance at Hyunwoo who was narrowing his vision at his friend, clearly having witnessed the interaction.

Changkyun introduced you to the others at the table, a mixed crowd  of individuals roughly the same age as him, some with tattoos and a rugged look to them, but they were completely kind upon your handshake. Hyunwoo was cordial, but stone faced for the majority of the early evening. You knew he was on-edge, probably more so because you were there with him.

You leaned in to let Hyunwoo know you were going to the bar for a drink, and he went to stand so he could come with, but Changkyun stopped him.

“I’ll go.” He said, knowing Hyunwoo wasn’t a big drinker anyway and would rather stay seated. Hyunwoo hesitated, then nodded and sat back down. Changkyun followed close behind you to the bar.

You worked your way through the crowd to an empty spot, and waited idly for the attention of the bartender, who was quite busy. You nodded your head to the music and tried to ignore how close Changkyun stood behind you.

“You look nice.” He leaned in to say, and you felt his hot breath against your ear and suppressed a shiver.

“Thanks.” You replied, not meeting his eyes. It may have seemed rude, but you were afraid of how you’d give yourself away if he saw your face.

“A lot different than I’ve ever seen you.”

This time you couldn’t help but smile and glance at him. “Well, I am all grown-up now.” You said jokingly, and he nodded in agreement, eyes casting down your frame once more as he pulled his bottom lip under his teeth. He wasn’t even pretending anymore.

Luckily you managed to wave the bartender over then and ordered a couple beers. When he brought them over, you went to fish through your purse but Changkyun was already tossing his bills on the bartop.

“I’ll get the next one” You said as you turned around, expecting him to move back so you could make your way to the table. But he stood there a moment, trapping you.

“We’ll just say you owe me one.” He grinned, then turned and started back for the table. You weren’t so sure if he meant drinks or something else.

You had enough time to finish your first drink before Changkyun left to get ready. There had been a couple performances before his, mostly hip-hop or R&B and you knew why he favored this club. You felt anxious but you weren’t sure why, anticipating seeing him up on stage.   When they announced his name, you turned fully toward the stage and watched with rapt attention.

It was hard to believe it was him at first; he’d grown a lot since his talent show days. His voice was deep and powerful coming through the speakers and he moved with so much confidence. The anxiety in your stomach turned into butterflies, and with every smirk and gesture and rolled syllable you felt something strange build up inside you. It came with the realization that once boyish and broody Changkyun was, in fact, sexy.

He only performed a couple songs, but the crowd ate it up. There were clearly many people there who already knew who he was, and they gathered around the stage in droves. When he finished, they erupted into cheers and he left the stage with a satisfied smile.

“He’s really good.” You said to Hyunwoo, who nodded and half-smiled. He was obviously proud, despite wanting to remain stoic.

He must have been backstage afterward, because you didn’t see him immediately. You took the opportunity to get freshened up in the bathroom, and found the dingy hallway that led there. The line inside the ladies room was ridiculously long, so you opted to stay in the hallway for now, leaning against the wall and idling through your phone, sending a couple snaps to your friends about what you’d just seen. They accused you of having a crush and you didn’t correct them.

“Hey.”

The hallway was like a void, the thumping music distant from here and making the unexpected voice startle you. You looked up to find Changkyun there, looking warm and glowing after performing, hair ever so slightly disheveled. He’d lost his hoodie and wore a black t shirt that clung fitting to his frame.

“Hey, “ You said, dropping your phone back into your pocket and smiling wide at him. “You were great up there.” You went on, trying not to gush, and he thanked you. The energy he had on stage still remained here, a kind of buzz he still carried, and it radiated off of him.

“What are you doing back here?” He asked, and you tilted your head toward the bathroom door.

“Waiting for the rush to die down so I can powder my nose. You?”

“Ah, well.”

He started to move close to you, and you tensed up, backing yourself further up against the wall on instinct.

“I came to collect.”

Your eyes creased in confusion. “Collect?”

“You owe me, remember?” He said, and he was as close as he could be without touching you, and you drew in a sharp breath.

“Wh-what did you have in mind?” You tried to ask as self-assuredly as possible, but you still faltered in your words. All that trying to deny your attraction business had completely flown out the window tonight, and you knew you wanted whatever came next.

“To be honest, I’ve been trying to get you away from your brother for days.” He chuckled, a low rumble that wasn’t helping your situation any. As his words sank in, you felt a blush creeping up your neck to your cheeks.

“Don’t bullshit me.” You laughed uneasily, not wanting to buy it. You still felt like a dorky little kid around him sometimes, there’s no way he actually wanted something from you.

You swallowed hard when you felt his hand on your hip, pressing you back into the wall and coming a little bit closer, his mouth now mere inches from yours, eyelids fluttering down at you.

“Me? Never.” He shook his head as a sly smile parted his lips. “I know what I want.”

You shivered at his words, your mind chanting over and over again to itself how much you wished he would shut up and kiss you.

“But the real question,” He started, pulling back some and you swayed into him, following him, craving his closeness. “Is what do you want?”

You knew exactly what you wanted; it raced through your thoughts from the moment you got here. Even with every boy you’d dated and flirted with in your life, none of them had awakened such a want in you.  Not until now.

Your phone began buzzing incessantly in your pocket, and Changkyun was close enough to you that he could feel it, too. The jingle was unusually loud in the midst of the hallway. He pulled back just enough to give you room to retrieve it, which you did with shaky hands.

Of course, it was Hyunwoo.

“Where are you?” He asked loudly on the other end over the music, voice painted in fuming concern. You sighed and looked forward, and you could see Changkyun smiling. He pressed his thumb into your hip and you stared at him, watching his tongue languish over his bottom lip, eyes boring into yours. You were so entrapped in his gaze you almost forgot  to answer your yelling brother on the other end of your phone.

“I’m waiting in line for the bathroom still, chill out.” You said, and he made a disapproving sound.

“Hurry up.” He said, and you tried to “yeah-yeah” him before you felt Changkyun use his free hand to take hold of your wrist. He pulled it forward so he could speak into the phone, and your eyes widened.

“She’s fine; I’m taking good care of her.” He said in a teasing tone, and there was a pause before you heard Hyunwoo’s voice again. You couldn’t make out what he was saying, but he sounded pissed. Changkyun hung up on him.

“You asshole.” You said, using the hand with your phone to push on his shoulder and he laughed.

“I just like getting under his skin, he needs to lighten up.”

You dropped your arms and looked at him carefully. “So that’s what this is?” You asked, gesturing to the air between you two. Had he really just flirted with you so aggressively to annoy your brother?

“Oh, no. The part where I irritate Hyunwoo is just a bonus.” He said, then lifted his hand to tap you on the nose with his pointer finger. You flinched.

“I’ll be looking forward to your answer.” He said, and just like that he turned on his heel and left.

You blinked in his absence, trying to remember what his question was, and then the very recent memory of his voice traveled through you.

“What do you want?”

You straightened up, messed with your hair, checked your reflection in a compact, and made your way over to the table.

“It’s not funny.” Hyunwoo said, eyes concentrated on a giggly Changkyun, who was still delighting in frustrating him.

“It was a little funny.”

“And you,” Hyunwoo said, turning his attention to you as you sat down. “You can’t send a text when you disappear like that?”

“I was gone for 15 minutes.” You said with an eyeroll.

“Yeah, big brother, she can take care of herself. Trust me.” Changkyun said, shooting you a smirk and you glared at him, although you secretly enjoyed it.

“Stay out of this.” Hyunwoo grumbled at his friend.

“Don’t be such a drag, we’re supposed to be having fun. Here,” He pushed a full beer toward Hyunwoo, who stared at it for a moment before relenting and taking a swig.

“That’s more like it.” Chankgyun said, collapsing a hand on his back in a brotherly pat of encouragement.  You could see Hyunwoo relaxing under his touch and a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. You guessed Changkyun just had that affect on people.

You stayed longer than you thought you would, probably because Hyunwoo was in a much better mood after a few beers. Changkyun didn’t make it obvious around your brother, but he still stole glances at you and gave you enticing looks, like he was inviting you to something.  Every single time, it made your stomach do somersaults and you had to turn away. He was such a tease and you didn’t know how much longer you’d survive these interactions.

When it was time to go, you grabbed an Uber  and watched a few feet away as Changkyun chatted with his friends. They tried to encourage him to stay, saying they had an after-hours party going on. You thought for sure he’d head with them, but was surprised when you saw him wave and jog back to where you were getting into the car.

“You’re coming with us?” You asked and he nodded as he followed you into the backseat. Hyunwoo was up front with the driver, a little buzzed and oblivious to everything around him. It was dark in the back on the ride home, and you tried to ignore how closely Changkyun sat next to you.

This became impossible to ignore once you felt his hand on your knee, just laying there heavy against your exposed skin. Your eyes widened toward Hyunwoo, but he couldn’t see a thing, staring straight ahead at the road and chatting casually with the driver. Then your head shot to Changkyun, who kept an even face and only a slight twitch from his lips.

“You’re really arrogant, you know that?” You leaned in to whisper to him, not wanting him to think he had the upper hand here, though he clearly did. He turned to you and smiled.

“Tell me to stop and I will.”

You stared at each other for a long, silent moment. It felt like he was reading your body through his fingertips against the skin of your thigh, and he did not see nor feel any indication that you wanted him to stop at all.

“Hey, hey!” Hyunwoo suddenly shouted, and it jarred you both out of the moment, Changkyun’s hand pulling away from your leg as if he’d been burned. You felt your heart shoot into your throat.

“Take this right, it’s a shortcut” He said after, and you realized he’d only been trying to get the driver’s attention. You let out a long exhale and Changkyun laughed, even though he’d been just as terrified.

He kept his hands off you for the duration of the ride, probably gun-shy after staring death in the face in the form of Hyunwoo possibly being privy to what was going on under his nose. He’d never admit it, but Hyunwoo intimidated him just as much as he intimidated anyone else who didn’t really know what a teddy bear he was. Changkyun knew, but was also smart enough to know that teddy bear could turn into a grizzly when it came to his one and only younger sister.

When you got into the apartment, Hyunwoo pulled you into a hug and you knew then that he was a little more than buzzed.

“Sorry for treating you like a baby.” He said, and you laughed as you pat his back. “All’s forgiven.”

“I’m going to bed.” He said then, kissing the top of your head and zombie-walking to his bedroom.

Changkyun chuckled at Hyunwoo, pulling a fleece blanket from the back of the couch and spreading it out, intending on camping there for the night. You knew you should head off to bed, but you hesitated in the living room. You wanted to say something, to stay right there with him until the sun came up, to kiss him until your lips were sore. All sorts of feelings swam in your blood and it only halted when he spoke up.

“Well, goodnight.” He said, and you just threw him a bashful wave before trekking into the study. You sighed as you shut the door, leaning against it a moment with your eyes closed. You were such a wuss.

You washed up for the night, getting into your PJs and setting onto the futon. It was late, but you were having trouble sleeping, your mind not quieting down enough to let you. You felt a mixture of embarrassment from your interaction with Changkyun, but also hints of excitement and those lame crushy feelings from highschool. He’d made it very obvious he was into you, in some fashion.

While you lay awake going over these things, you were startled by the ding of your phone, and picked it up to see who could be messaging you at this time of night.

Changkyun: sorry if I made things weird

You smiled to yourself, biting your bottom lip in a weak attempt to supresss it. You’d forgotten you had exchanged numbers a few days ago, mostly so you could make jokes about Hyunwoo while he was in the same room.

You: you didn’t

You couldn’t think of what else to say to make that more clear.

Changkyun: I mean I had a feeling you might still be into me, so I went for it

You felt a blush creep up over you. What did he mean still? Did he know about your previous crush on him so long ago?

You: Still?

Changkyun: am I being presumptuous? Im pretty sure you had a schoolgirl thing for me

You:  you wish

You wondered if he was in the other room, spread out on his back on the couch, phone glowing over his face in the dark, smiling the way you were. You decided to be daring

You: remember you asked me what I wanted?

Changkyun: yeah?

You: I want whatever it was we had in that hallway tonight

You dropped the phone after you sent the message and pulled the covers up over your face, skin burning and wanting to scream. You couldn’t believe you’d actually sent it. When the phone dinged again, you had to take a deep breath before you looked at it.

Changkyun: I really wish your brother wasn’t 2 rooms over.

Again, you felt a scream screeching its way up inside you, threatening to come out in a most immature way, but you held it together.

You: whys that?

Changkyun: cause I’d be in that studio with you in a second

You could hear Hyunwoo echoing in your head, warning you that this was what Changkyun was good at, persuading girls. You had to admit, his smooth-talk was on point. However, you weren’t as foolish as your brother took you to be. You knew this wasn’t supposed to be serious, and you were fine with that.

You: the door is open :)

You were surprised at yourself, you didn’t think you were much of a flirt but it came naturally when you talked to him. The energy between the two of you was electric, and it flowed back and forth effortlessly, even if inside you were dying.

Changkyun: you really aren’t as innocent as Hyunwoo thinks, huh?

You: there are a lot of things Hyunwoo doesn’t know about me.

Changkyun: as enticing as this all sounds, im not going to test my limits so soon.

You: I knew you were scared of him

Changkyun: maybe so, you can’t blame me. He would absolutely destroy me if I ever laid a hand on you

You: you’ve got a point there

Changkyun: besides, if you’re feeling so brave, you could always come out here ;)

Changkyun: Im pretty sure there’s room for 2 on this couch, though it would be a tight squeeze. Which, of course, I don’t mind.

You bit back a nervous giggle, enjoying this exchange far too much.

You: youre right, theres no escaping Hyunwoo if he were to wake up and find us anywhere near each other

Changkyun: yeah, I guess you’ll just have to dream about me

You: whatever. goodnight, stupid

Changkyun: goodnight :)

You actually did let out a giggle that time, and tucked your phone away, easing into sleep. Though you rolled your eyes at some of his sweet-talk, he was very much in your thoughts as you slept.

[magically-strange]

Costumed Craving...

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13

Marianne had to take a moment to collect herself before she could coherently answer Bog.  The thing about soulmates was that they weren’t just random individuals that fate threw together with a ‘best-of-luck’ shrug. They were specially matched to be both a balance and compliment to each other. Each was exactly what the other one needed and wanted, in whichever order they were to discover.        

Take Dawn and Sunny’s relationship, for example.  Believe it or not, those two had been best friends since childhood, with the latter blissfully unaware of the former’s biggest secret, not that it wasn’t difficult to hide as kids, but when puberty reared its ugly head, things got complicated.  

Sunny fell in love while Dawn went cute boy-crazy.  Marianne couldn’t imagine how hard it must’ve been for him, watching her sister take on the more, eh…traditional M.O. of a succubus; dating a seemingly endless string of tall, white guys; his exact opposite. He thought all he did was blend in, little knowing how he left all those jerks in the dust when it came to who Dawn really valued the most as a person.  

She’d never once fed off Sunny.  Dawn always claimed it would be disrespectful to their friendship.  And through all her romantic flings and entanglements, she still made time to hang out with Sunny alone.  

Then came the night of their senior prom.  

It had been unusually cold and rainy that spring, and her date had come down with the flu at the last minute.  Dawn had been wrecked, afraid she was going to miss out on the most special night of her high-school life, until Sunny volunteered to escort her himself, despite his responsibility as the event’s DJ.  It was tricky, but they managed to make it work, with Sunny and his friend, Pare, taking turns manning the sound system so everyone could share plenty of dances.  

When the prom was over, it was pouring outside, so heavily, that by the time Sunny and Dawn reached his mom’s beat-up Volvo, they were soaked through to the bone.  Not realizing that Dawn wasn’t bothered by the chill as much as she was the wet, Sunny, like the gentleman he was (and is to this day), immediately switched on the heater, took off his tux jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders, hugging her close in an attempt to get her warm before they drove home. Well, call it cliché as hell, but one thing led to another, and in the middle of their kissing, it happened.

Marianne would never forget how Dawn had later described it on the phone:  All of the sudden, I just knew it. I could smell it and see it and taste it all at the same time!  It was so weird and kinda scary, but so amazing!  Like feeding times a thousand, a million!  Everything was Sunny!  My fangs finally grew out and the next thing I knew, I was drinking the blood straight from his heart!

Afterwards, placing Sunny’s passed out body in the backseat and driving frantically to her house so she and her father could explain everything to him when he came to was…awkward, to say the least.  Dawn had been terrified that she was going to lose her dearest friend since kindergarten forever, but nature doesn’t make mistakes, and eventually, Sunny just smiled, saying he’d always believed there was something magical about her.    

They’d been virtually inseparable ever since, marrying in college once Sunny had a year or two to get accustomed to his transformation, and moving into their own house in the same neighborhood as Dawn’s father; Lilin liked to stay near their families.

Dawn, like her mother, was a free-spirit.  She was an almost obnoxiously peppy, optimistic, morning person, who’d try anything and everything at any given time, just for the fun of it.  And while Sunny was similar, he had a stronger down-to-earth streak that helped Dawn relax and keep things in perspective, while she brought out his confidence and courage.  He made her wiser, she made him stand out more; and together; they were deeply and truly happy.      

Marianne had tried to deny how envious she was of them.  Every Lilin longed to find their soulmate, and she’d been so afraid that she wouldn’t, even going so far as to lie to herself and think she didn’t want hers, thanks to the Roland disaster.  

But she had.  

Though she’d had a light handful of intimate partners in her lifetime, Marianne did not share her sister’s pre-bonding affinity for casual sex with all her prey.  She normally preferred to take the ‘thief in the night’ approach, less personal that way. She was like her mother too, just in wit and sass, rather than flight of fancy; even if she could be somewhat inquisitive and impatient.  Her mother’s passion had become her own, and that combined with her father’s rarely seen, but serious anger underneath his typically easy-going and friendly attitude, made Marianne a veritable hurricane when her small number of buttons were pushed.  

Marianne was wild and tough, and she needed someone who could match her fire.  Otherwise, her strength would crush them to bits, figuratively and very literally.  

Bog was a hard-ass. He didn’t bullshit her; if he disagreed with her on something, he told her so, and they debated the subject thoroughly, fervently, and respectfully.  They were also both fiercely competitive.  Their dates were chock full of races, trivia, contests, point tallies, etc. He’d even come to the gym a few times to work out and spar with her.  And the best part?  No pun intended, but he never pulled any punches. Despite her obviously needing to physically dial it back to avoid suspicion and/or injuring him, she could still tell that he gave it his all.  He didn’t take it easy on her because she was a woman; he treated her as an equal, right from the start. That’s how they were balanced.      

Furthermore, she’d never known the true calming power of the color blue until she’d seen it in his eyes. As much as he could stir her up, he could settle her down just as easily, with his kindness and empathy. He soothed and consoled her, praised and encouraged her; reminded her of all the beauty and good in the world.  

And for her part, she enticed him, beckoned him; drew him out of the lonely shadows that had whispered to him of his ugliness, his strangeness, his unworthiness to be loved. They gave each other hope, and that’s how they were complimented.        

All that being said, if Bog thought her temper was familiar and comforting, then he should’ve taken a peek inside Marianne’s head when he’d growled at her.  

Had she not been so stubbornly in denial, she could’ve saved herself a lot of torment.  It was incredibly difficult for a Lilin to court a human, especially when the human in question was the Lilin’s soulmate.  So much restraint, so much frustration!  Like having an unbearable craving for a banana split, but only being allowed to eat the nuts and sprinkles!  It was never enough!

But that was coming to an end.  Bog’s transformation was almost complete; she could feel it in every pore of her skin.  There was only one last thing he would need to do…

And if he accepted their bond on top of that task, then she wouldn’t have to hold back anymore.  Hurricane would meet tornado, and it would be glorious!  His show of dominance excited her; made the succubus rise in wanting to challenge him, but she had to stay in control!  Just a bit longer.  This was definitely not the time to be turned on.      

What was important now, was getting him to want this.

“You’ll be able to see, smell, and hear better than any animal on this earth,” she explained, “you’ll have the strength of a hundred men, and be immune to almost any disease you can name.”

Something passed over Bog’s scowling face at that.  Relief? Or awe, perhaps?  Was he thinking about his father?  Whatever it was, it vanished in a blink, and was replaced with concern.

“What about my mom?” He demanded.  “I’m all she has, Marianne.  I can’t leave her!”    

“You won’t, Bog.”  Marianne assured him.  “You can live your life the way you always have.  You’ll continue to age at the same rate you do now.  You don’t have to give up anything.  Not your friends, your family, your job, not even your favorite foods!”

“What?  How can-?”

“It won’t give you nutrition or sustenance anymore, but you can keep on eating out of habit or just to enjoy the taste.  My uncle Paul’s never stopped loving his bacon burgers, and I ate Poptarts as a kid; I still like ‘em.”  

As her boyfriend considered this, Marianne put the cherry on top:

“You’ll even be able to walk on air.”

Bog’s gaze snapped to meet hers, first in confusion as to her meaning, but soon his jaw went slack for several beats as understanding dawned on his features and he struggled to speak again.

“Walk on-?  Ye…y-y-ye mean we can…f-fly?”

He said ‘we’!!!

“Yes, Bog.”  Marianne grinned gently.  “We have wings!”

[twocoursemeal-blog]

TCM Eats: Foundry on Elm

Foundry on Elm (Davis Square)

Foundry on Elm is a cornerstone of the Davis Square restaurant scene, but is a spot that neither of us have visited in quite some time (if at all). Little did we know, a quick Thursday night dinner would emphasize why Foundry is loved by so many, and make us regret passing it up for so long. It’s not often that we get hooked by a sign board advertisement,, but when we do, we hope every time turns out like Foundry on Elm.

We ate:

Fried Chicken Sandwich

Passionfruit Mousse Parfait

We drank:

Narragansett Lovecraft “The Unnamable” Black Lager

Mayflower Cooper’s Series “Bradford Tripel”

Angela’s Thoughts

So, I was walking through Davis Square late on Wednesday night after hosting Trivia (Joshua Tree, Wednesdays, 8PM in Davis Square!), and happened to read the signboard outside of Foundry on Elm. Usually, I don’t pay too much attention to Foundry -- my past visit to them found them overpriced and slightly underwhelming (except for their delicious cocktails). However, this day was different; they were advertising a Thursday night Beer Dinner prix fixe menu: two courses, and two beer pairings for $20! Once I got home, I immediately told Matt that we *had* to review this. He agreed. We made reservations for an early-ish 6:30 dinner, and we were suuuuper excited.

Though I had no knowledge of Thursday Beer Dinners at Foundry before a few days ago, they have been occurring off and on for the last few years. Typically, the two course menu and beer pairings aren’t revealed until the day of. That night, I was stuck in lab about 10 minutes longer than expected, so ran late for our reservation. Matt texted me that I “was gonna love” the menu for the night, which was super exciting, since prix fixe can be such a crapshoot.

When I arrived, Matt had already ordered a cocktail, and our tattooed cowboy, southern gentleman of a waiter, Nelson, was ready to explain the specials. He told us about the delicious-sounding yellowtail special, which the couple next to us hyped up (they literally leaned over to talk about how good it was), but I already had my heart set on the $20 Beer Dinner: a fried chicken sandwich with bacon, marinated pickles, and cherry pepper aioli on a buttermilk biscuit, paired with a Narragansett Black Lager, and a second course of a passionfruit mousse sandwiched between two layers of leches cake, paired with a Mayflower Belgian Tripel ale. I must’ve hit the jackpot, because this menu sounded right up my alley.

The first course beer, the ‘Gansett Lovecraft Black Lager, was the first thing to arrive. I am not the biggest fan of Narragansett’s flagship lager, but I have been continually impressed by their special and seasonal offerings. Their Lovecraftian Black Lager, “The Unnamable” definitely lived up to my expectations. It was smooth, light bodied, bitter, and well-balanced, all at 7.5% ABV. It was certainly my favorite of the two beers we had at dinner.

The first course entree, the fried chicken sandwich, was equally good. When it arrived, the strong porky smell of bacon dominated (the bacon was super crispy, cooked exactly how I prefer). The chicken breast was nice, meaty, and not dry at all. The biscuit was also *much* better than I’d anticipated; buttery, slightly peppery, puffy, and light. The aioli was creamy, and had a subtle kick very late on after tasting it. The marinated pickles were relatively mild, but had enough acid to cut through the richness of all of the other ingredients. As for pairing the beer with the sandwich, the hoppy, light body of the dark beer cut through the meaty heaviness of the sandwich quite well.

The sandwich, while substantial, arrived without a side, so I greedily ordered a side of fries to share (before I even started eating... -- I am an over-ordering fool, but if you’ve ever read any of our reviews before, you know that already). The fries were also better than I expected! They came out hot, with a skin-on cut and a side of ketchup. They were crispy, well-salted, and had soft, potatoey insides. I ate way too many of them, especially with a second course coming after this one!

Our waiter, Nelson, waited to serve the second course until we asked for it, and when we were ready, the second course beer came out pretty quickly. The second beer, the Mayflower “Bradford” Tripel Ale was slightly fruity, and had that classic belgian malt taste, with some nice booziness (9% ABV). Upon reflection, both of the beer pairings were exceptionally generous on the ABV, especially for $20 total.

The second course of the meal was a lovely passionfruit mousse dessert, two layers of leches cake with a tart passionfruit mousse in the center, topped with a citrusy mascarpone and toasted almonds. It was beautifully presented, in a clear glass that showed the neatness of the dessert’s layers. When eaten separately, the cake layer of the dessert was on the drier, crumbly side, and the mousse was quite sharp and acidic in its fruitiness. But together, they melded perfectly; the mild flavor and density of the cake balanced out the tropical sweet and sour notes of the smooth mousse. The layer of powerfully-flavored mousse was quite thin in comparison to the two layers of cake on the top and bottom. It tasted gorgeous and fancy, and was delicate in all but flavor. It was very clear that the chefs at Foundry were paying attention when they thought through this dessert. The beer pairing for this course wasn’t as favorable as the first course, however; the flavor of the beer was almost completely blown out by the intensity of the dessert. This mousse parfait was really fantastic, though, so I didn’t really care.

I started to get *really* full halfway through the dessert course, and slightly regretted ordering the fries (even though they were quite good). The serving of the dessert was notably substantial for a parfait, so I ended up stuffed without even finishing my second course beer or dessert. Honestly, I have no one to blame but myself, but I regret nothing.

“Exceeded Expectations” was more or less the theme for the night. I hadn’t been back to Foundry on Elm in a number of years, and had no real desire to go back (if I ever wanted to have one of their delicious cocktails, I’d go to their sister bar, Saloon, instead). But, apparently, I have been *missing out*. The $20 Beer Dinner was an amazing deal, but all of that delicious food at that price was an absolute steal. This visit to Foundry has won not only my praise, but a guaranteed return visit from me.

Matt’s Thoughts

As we were figuring out where to eat for this review, Angela threw a great idea into the mix: the Foundry on Elm had a 2 course prix fixe (entree and dessert) with beer pairing. If you know me (and at this point, I’d hope you do), you know I love entrees, desserts, and beers. This sounded like a steal for $20, and I signed myself right up after a late night call to confirm it was still happening (they take reservations at 11:15pm!). A minor word: The prix fixe menu is apparently decided on the day of, so planning around the food may be difficult if you’ve got some foods you don’t eat (vegetarian, vegan, etc). Fortunately, this food was delicious.

I got there a bit before Angela did, and after spotting a cocktail on the menu that contained an egg white, I decided it would be prudent to order it and have it be ready for us to share by the time she arrived (speaking from experience, having lab work hold you up from a planned engagement is never a great feeling). It arrived a bit cloudy, and after a few minutes, it started separating. Maybe the lemon juice and white weren’t mixing as happily as expected? In my past experience, the egg white is dry-shaken and added on top, as opposed to being incorporated into the cocktail itself. We confirmed with our fabulously dressed server that were weren’t looking at a curdled drink, and after he assured us it was fine, we sipped. It was indeed, fine. Not incredible - the cognac felt lost amongst the lemon and the walnut liquor may have been present? Certainly, I didn’t notice a walnut flavor. Mostly, it was tangy, and very rich with a velvety mouthfeel. A fine cocktail, but probably not one I’d order again.

The entree was a fried chicken sandwich, and if you’ve ready our review of Little Donkeythen you know how much we love a well-constructed, well-cooked fried chicken sandwich. And I am pleased to announce that Foundry on Elm’s sandwich, dear reader, delivered in full. The description alone was enough to hook even my chicken-averse heart - cornmeal crusted chicken breast, house marinated pickles, cherry pepper aioli, applewood smoked bacon, and a buttermilk biscuit? Yes. Yes please. The sandwich came out beautifully presented (Angela’s a bit more beautifully than mine) and good lord it was good. All elements balanced well, the chicken was cooked perfectly, the aioli lent creaminess and the cherry pepper flavor plus pickles gave the much needed acidic bite to contrast the richness of the fried chicken. The biscuit was surprisingly light for how well it held the sandwich together. This is one of those items you’re sad to learn isn’t a staple on their menu.

We ordered a side of fries (why not?) and they were also excellent. Very crispy on the outside, light and fluffy interior, with a noticeable but not unpleasant clean oil flavor that reminds you these babies were dunked in a huge pool of grease before making it to your table. Too hot to eat as soon as they hit the table, but too damn good not to. Next time, we may have to try the truffle version.

The Unnamable Black Lager was a surprise from Narragansett - a brewery that I know can put out a fine beer (try their Oktoberfest next time you get the chance!), but one that I’d largely delegated to lower-end beers overall. This was whimsical, with a strong, strong Lovecraft throwback and well balanced but not too heavy high Lovibond malt profile. If I had the chance to grab a 6 pack of the stuff, I’d happily do so. It matched up well to the acidic and fatty profile of the sandwich, bringing it down to earth and highlighting the caramelized parts of the biscuit, as well as the well-done cornmeal crust. Top-notch!

Our dessert quickly followed, accompanied by a Belgian tripel I’d never had before. I tend to be weary of passionfruit desserts, as I find that they can easily be uniformly tart and overpowering without enough depth to keep me wanting more. This, my friends, was different. Foundry on Elm’s passionfruit parfait was topped with a stiff whorl of sweetened, whipped mascarpone flavored with some sort of citrus (Orange? Orange blossom water? The world may never know.) and candied marcona almonds. The leches cake discs were on the dry side (compared to the saturated texture I’ve come to expect from leches cake), but were complemented well by the appropriately thin layer of passionfruit mousse. The chefs did a skilled job of keeping the mousse tart and flavorful while pairing it up against a much larger serving of cake. The dessert ended up well balanced, interesting, and light, which was particularly surprising considering the expected heaviness of the ingredients. Overall, I have to say this was one of my more memorable restaurant desserts, a title which I do not give lightly. The tripel was great on the first sip, but oddly lost profile in the face of the sour passionfruit mousse. Maybe it was the lingering acid, but halfway through, all I could taste was the classic candi flavor of the tripel, and not much else. At the very end, I regained a bit more of the original enjoyable beer profile, which was welcome. It was a good beer, but maybe not the best pairing.

This was a great new experience! It makes me want to go back for other Thursday night prix fixes, and even to go back to try their normal food and specials, which looked delicious. Great job by Foundry on Elm - you’ve just earned yourself two vocal fans.

Overall:

We’re happy to admit when our preconceived notions about a restaurant were wrong, and we’re happy to admit that Foundry on Elm has left us with a strong desire to return every Thursday that we are free for the rest of time. It’s not just that we got to try two new, boozy, delicious beers, or that we got to have a fantastically crafted two course meal (*WINK*), but that Foundry on Elm’s marketing in this case got us in the door and got us hooked, and stuffed and drunk on $20 each. This is a strong recommendation from the both of us. See you there next Thursday?

We give Foundry on Elm 4 citrusy mascarpone toppings out of 5.