#white bock wall

[ziggy-pop]

Retaining Walls - Landscape

Inspiration for a mid-sized contemporary backyard retaining wall landscape.

[mellarkloaves]

Retaining Walls - Landscape Design ideas for a mid-sized contemporary backyard retaining wall landscape.

[glazedsnail]

Fanfic closing soon

So there we are. That's the second to last part. AT LAST.

I'm usually way ahead before I post a part but this time the last part is all in my head I can't wait to put it on paper. And I'll try my best to post it tomorrow by the latest cause after that I'm away for a few days. AND I DON'T WANT TO LEAVE ANYONE ON THAT.

You'll see why

Misery Loved Company

ShanexOCFarmer (♀️) 18+ - Mention of suicidal ideation/mention of csa/substance misuse

Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9

Also, finally, this is what Fern looks like.

I'm VERY bad at description and I WILL blame 1st person writing which I CHOSE to write in.

She's tired ya'll. but she cute.

I used the super handy tool by Jaz and Poltergeister linked here ♥ Because I tried to draw her myself and uh, yeah, no, i'll stick to writing. That's how bad my drawing is.

The heavy rain of the afternoon falling on the warm air left the night with a muggy lovechild enveloping the valley.

In his room, Shane blames the weather for his inability to fall asleep. Cover on, cover off. One leg out, two legs. He tosses, turns, grunting and grumbling.

Dinner was a disaster. Marnie wanted nothing to do with him, and so did he. Tension could probably be felt from the mountain top. Marnie was in the wrong. Wasn’t she? He turns.

She cannot possibly believe that Fern would have destroyed him, his effort, his “progress”. She knows herself how that odd new farmer helped with the singular little push to the right direction. So what if she wanted more. He faces the wall. So what if he wanted more. He groans. Their last conversation was a fight. She collapsed in the hospital parking lot and was immediately treated for severe dehydration. He saw her then weakened dark eyes fill with tears as she asked him to leave. He had all the intentions to, he thinks. But not before he knew she was safe. He turns to the messy room. The TV is still on, its crackling noise filling the room. It’s familiar. Comfortable. Did she even make it back to the farm? And what truly happened with this story of “glass shattered in anger”? What even are his feelings for her anyway? A long groan. He buries his face in his hands and sits up. There’s no point fighting it. Leaving the statically singing TV, he heads to the kitchen and walks straight to the adjacent chicken coop. None of the chickens are bothered by the weather, or the rough looking tired half naked man who just walked in. Most are sleeping peacefully, snoring soft “bock” into their wings. Others seem to be snuggling, or walking around in that peculiar chicken gait…

Shane leans against the wall where he had proudly hung his “Fresh Eggs” sign. He slowly slides down to the floor. Immediately, a white chicken runs towards him and jumps on his lap, clucking enthusiastically. 

‘Hey Charlie.’ He whispers, stroking the chicken’s neck. “In another life, I could see myself becoming a chicken farmer” he repeats to himself.

‘I really fucked up, didn’t I?’

Charlie lifts her head to his voice.

‘I didn’t know how to handle it. All this. It was somehow easier when I didn’t have any plan, something to look forward to. I let my guard down, I let her in.’

‘Cluck’

‘Fern’

‘Cluck?’

‘You’ve met Fern, c’mon.’ Shane sighs, shuffling in place ‘Y’know, when she first moved in the old farm I gave her two weeks at most. At her age, renovating an old broken down farm, make it viable again.’

‘Cluck’

‘I didn’t say she looked old. Lewis had told us she was the old neighbour’s granddaughter, we just did the maths. Thirty’s old.’

‘Cluck’

‘It is.’ He moves his shoulder, already feeling stiff. ‘No one can just start a new life like that. But she did, and I was jealous of her. I still can’t wrap my head around why she was so… insistent. Why would anyone want to know me? I get it’s a small town and she probably wanted to befriend everybody but… I’m trash.’

‘Cluck’

‘Yeah you would say that, but that’s only because I feed you.’ 

He starts to truly feel the hard floor on his buttocks, his lower back seizing in a small spasm.

‘Fuck’s sake’ he whispers. ‘Falling into pieces over here.’

He sighs, looks at the wall in front of him.

He broke down many walls in his life, on his own. He never needed help, never asked for help, letting himself fight alone for so long. It was working. Barely. And she came in, told him he could rest, let his bleeding knuckles fall to his sides and stop, when he didn’t even see her bandaged hands.

‘Do you think damaged attracts damaged? That we could have made each other actually worse? She went through hell and was willing to march back in to get me out of it with a kick in the ass.’

‘Cluck’

‘Butt’

He lets his heavy head fall against the wall. On the ceiling, a spider is slowly wrapping its catch, dancing with the breeze on its intricate trap. He sighs.

‘I think I love her’

‘Shane?’

The door slowly creaks, letting Marnie walk in, wrapped in her nightgown, messy hair easily doubling the size of her head. 

‘You couldn’t sleep either?’ She asks in a low voice. He shakes his head looking up at her. ‘I’m sorry for today, Shane. I realised I’ve never actually said how…how proud I am of you.’

‘That’s ok’ he exhales. ‘I probably wouldn’t have believed you anyway.’

‘Be that as it may, I AM proud of you, Shane. You’ve made progress I had abandoned all hope of seeing. And, I was happy to see you and Fern together…But’

She leans from one foot to the other, slowly shifting weight, looking at nothing at the back of the coop.

Shane raises an eyebrow.

‘But?’

She sighs, and asks him to come into the kitchen. He puts Charlie safely back on the ground and stands up in a grunt. In the kitchen, Marnie had laid out two cups and was busy getting water ready.

‘Have a seat.’

Shane stretches, groaning at his aching muscles and symphony of bones cracking.

‘It’s a bit early for coffee isn’t it?’ He asks.

‘It’s a tisane. Fern… Fern gifted it to me when I mentioned I was struggling to fall asleep. She makes it herself.’

‘Very thoughtful.’

She slowly pours the hot mixture into Shane’s cup. Immediately he is gently wrapped by the soothing scent of lavender, and the warm comforting notes of orange peel. It’s like he’s in her arms again.

Marnie looks down at her cup, silently blowing the smoke away. She gulps several times, as if ready to start talking, but never uttering a word. Her eyes are steadily moving. She’s looking for the right words.

She inhales deeply.

‘I am only looking out for you, doing what’s best for you.’ She starts, fidgeting on her cup. Shane is carefully sipping on his infusion, wincing at the, frankly, unpleasant taste. ‘Like I said, I was happy to see you and Fern, laughing, working together, even blushing like teenagers. Then you came back from that date. What was it again, four, five in the morning? Soaked by the rain and in a state of panic! And your signature evasiveness. Even had that smell of alcohol on you but, I knew you were sober.’

Shane scoffs.

‘Then why did you go off on me for drinking.’

‘Because! You don’t nee…’ she sighs ‘this is not the point just now Shane ok? I remember the panic in your eyes!’

‘Yeah I…I sorta figured out why I was panicking.’

‘Well, I talked to Lewis about it.’

‘What?’

‘I was scared, I wanted some advice. After all, Fern was still…very much a stranger to me.’

‘And you went to LEWIS?’

‘Not by choice really. But..’ She’s having a hard time proceeding.

‘But?’ Shane is tapping his fingers on the warm cup, impatient.

‘I voiced my concerns to him, there. So he told me he had received a letter from Fern’s family, her uncle, I think. A month before everything was settled with the farm. He was contesting the deed of the land, citing some sort of “”guardianship”. There indeed was a guardianship in place but it had been overruled years before after it had become evident he was not a…good guardian.’

‘How do you know all that? Where are you going with this?’

‘Lewis had to make sure he knew who he was talking to. Obviously learning all that he sent a letter back saying he would have nothing to do with him.’

‘Sounds about right for Lewis, instead of fucking ignoring the guy…’

‘He wrote back once Fern had moved in’ Marnie continues, ignoring Shane’s snarky comment. ‘He was saying how Fern wasn’t stable, how she wasn’t fit for living in a community, and how she had tried to…to kill herself.’

‘...And?’

‘You knew?’

‘Well, I, yes. It came up. Nothing about her uncle being a creepy weirdo though. Wh…What did you do?’

‘When Lewis showed me the letters I couldn’t believe it. I mean, she looked so full of life, so proper, so adapted.’

‘What does a depressed person look like to you, Marnie?’ Shane snaps.

‘Shane, please. I had to be sure. I was worried about you. What she could do to you.’

‘Do to me?’ he repeats, flummoxed.

‘We…Oh Shane please remember I did this for you.’

‘What did you do?!’

‘We went into Harvey’s clinic and looked through her medical records.’

‘What?!’ Shane screams, standing up. ‘What possessed you to do this?! Does Harvey know?’

‘Keep your voice down, Jas is sleeping.’

‘Marnie, wh…I’m…Shit… What made you think this was a good idea?’

‘I did it for you.’

‘Nobody asked you to.’

‘She could have been a very bad influence.’

Shane starts pacing in the room, trying to understand, taking it all in at once. He slowly comes to a stop. ‘Oh Marnie no…N-no…Don’t tell me you went to see her and actually tell her to leave me alone?’

His hand falls on his mouth as he realises. All the times Fern mentioned Marnie. Moreover, how Fern wanting Harvey to keep them a secret was to hide it from her, not because Fern was ashamed of “them”. Shane takes a step back, almost clutching his chest, his breathing becoming increasingly shallow, eyes wide open under scrunched up eyebrows.

‘It was for your own good, Shane.’

‘Was it, Marnie? Was it really? Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Fuck I need to go see her.’

He bolts toward the door without thinking. 

‘Shane for the love of Yoba look at yourself. Sit down. Sit down! Breathe deeply, please.’

She manages to block him and sits him down. He buries his bewildered face in his hands, struggling to find an adequate rhythm to his breathing. ‘Did she end up at the clinic because of you?’ He asks, muffled by his hands.

‘I thought… I thought once you saw how unstable she was you’d just let her go.’

Shane lifts his head in disbelief.

‘You knew it was an accident and let us all believe she did it to herself?’

‘Well, technically’

‘Marnie!’ he slams his fist on the table, making her jump. But she stands her ground. ‘I can’t believe you and Lewis chose to believe a rotten member of her family instead of seeing her with your own eyes. Since when do you care so much about somebody’s past?’

‘It was to protect you.’

‘From what? How would you react if you learned someone had done research on me to see if I’m “suitable”? To find any black spot in my history? This is fucked up!’

She stays silent, looking down at her thick slippers. She can’t answer, she knows she is in the wrong. The only explanation she’s got for her behaviour is truly from care for her nephew she almost lost.

‘I’m sorry.’ She ends up saying. She stands behind Shane, ashamed. 

His hands run back and forth in his hair, speechless, lost. Millions of thoughts are racing in his mind, the past days disappearing into a blurry mess. His own stupid panic, abandoning her in the coop after being so close to her, Marnie’s revolting and insulting visit.

And yet, she kept laughing, lost herself in his arms, tried despite everything. She had accepted him for him from day one and had worked her way slowly to the rotten core. And she was still willing to…Love him? 

He shakes his head, why would anyone subject themselves to this? He can’t be worth the effort,  he is not worth the effort. Not him. That’s what’s wrong with her. 

‘Fuck’s sake.’ He says, falling in his open hands.

Marnie sheepishly put her hands on his shoulders. Her aching heart beats rapidly at the vision of the broken man that is her nephew. All her life she thought she would never be the one to ever beat his already bruised existence. With no children of her own, no spouse, her found family is all she has, and all she would and want to care for. This pushed her to hurt the man she saw growing through too many hardships and heartaches.

And this one was her own fault.

‘I’m sorry, Shane.’

‘I know.’ He answers in a groan, not removing his hands off his shaking hands. ‘My intention were’

‘I know’ He cuts again. ‘I know, Marnie.’

‘I was scared, I do not want to lose you.’

She sits on the chair next to him. Shane lifts his exhausted face, deeply inhales, and turns to his aunt. She’s distraught. Her usually warm and friendly features are covered in tears.

‘How do you think I felt when I learned you had been brought to Harvey by Fern? That she had found you on the edge of the cliff, drunk out of your mind. That Harvey wanted to send you for psychological help. And that no one, nobody, at all, tried to contact me?’

Tears are rolling on her cheeks like two overflowing torrents.

‘You are more to me than the nephew working on my ranch every odd summer, Shane. I’ve always felt so helpless, so useless. This time, this only time, I wanted to take the lead, I wanted to be prepared, I wanted to finally help you.’

She bursts into tears. Shane realises the weight he’s been putting on her aunt had finally crushed her, the weights he had barely any idea he was stacking on her every damn year. ‘Aunt Marnie,’ he starts, not knowing what to do. ‘I-I’m sorry.’

‘No’ she tries to compose herself, stopping her tears. ‘No, Shane. It was incredibly wrong to do that to you, to Fern.’

‘Marnie, you’ve done so much for me. For me and for Jas. I’m hardly, ever, grateful enough. I take you for granted, and I’ve hurt you so many times.’ Silence falls, punctuated by the buzzing of the old fridge. 

‘Thank you, Marnie. For everything.’ Shane continues, looking down at his feet.

He hears the shuffling of her nightgown as she stands up and slowly wraps her arms around him. He hesitates, at first, but slowly embraces her.

She lets go first and exhales, a smile stretching timidly on her face.

‘What do you say we both go back to bed, and tomorrow, you head to Fern’s.’

‘If she ever wants to see me again.’ He replies. He did leave her at the hospital in Zuzu city after their fight, after all. At her request.

‘I’m sure she will, Shane.’

Mornings feel like a hangover when you have to rise with the chickens and barely spend your nights sleeping. Shane has been sitting up on his bed for the past hour, looking at the clock. Dreading the passing time, equally impatiently waiting for the alarm to go off. 

Thoughts of what he would say to Fern kept him frantically awake. What would she say, how would she react. How her lips pressed on his skin again would feel. These did not help his racing heart slow down.

Should she want him back.

He decides to beat the clock and finally get out of his bed and maybe prepare breakfast, brew some coffee. Something to occupy his mind, other than Fern. Other than the realisation that he, despite all, fell in love with her. 

He groans. Love. At his age. After everything. What a joke. And still. He can’t deny it any longer.

The kitchen is still in the darkness, sun barely in the sky and covered by a thin grey coat. Everyone else in the house is still asleep. If he takes care of breakfast for everyone that would give his aunt more time to rest. Then he’ll feed the chicken, and all the ranch residents. 

Shane braces himself, and opens the fridge, ready to tackle the day. 

A knock on the door. It’s much too early for visitors. Shane ignores it and grabs the pack of eggs. They knock again. Fine.

‘Oh, Shane. Good morning. You’re up early.’

Mayor Lewis' smiles disappeared quickly once the door opened. Shane groans.

‘What do you want?’

‘Is your aunt available?’

‘She’s sleeping.’

‘Oh. Well. I suppose you can help too. I need you and your aunt to take these.’

From the side of the porch, Lewis pulls a caged chicken, sleeping peacefully.

‘W-what’s that?’

‘Those are, ah, were, Fern’s chickens. There are three there, and I suppose you’ll take back in the sheep as well. They’re still at the farm. Shane? Oh de…Be more careful, my foot's covered in eggs!’

No sounds are reaching Shane’s ears. His vision is reduced to a slowly darkening tunnel. He heard wrong. He must have heard wrong. He swallows painfully.

‘Where did you say those were from again?’

Lewis raises an eyebrow.

‘I’ll come back when your aunt is up.’ He clears his throat and tuts. ‘Bit too early to drink, don't you think?’

Shane inhales sharply. He grabs the mayor by the collar and pins him against the wooden wall.

‘Shane!’ He yelps.

Marnie appears behind the open door.

‘Dear Yoba what is this mess! Shane! Shane for the love of Yoba, release him this instant!’ 

She throws herself at her nephew, he lets the mayor go and fails to take a deep breath. His vision blurs instantly, and he almost falls, clutching his chest. He helps himself up against the wall as Marnie lifts his face up to her. 

‘What did you do?’ She throws at Lewis.

‘N-nothing! I just came here to hand over Fern’s chickens.’

‘Fern’s chickens?’ she stutters, eyes wide open. ‘W-why? What happened? Is it her injury? Is she.. Is she…’

Marnie barely manages to voice what Shane isn’t able to articulate at all.

‘No! No! She’s fine!’ A small breath of relief. ‘But she’s not coming back.’

[yuulina-vre]

Gifting you a new life

Awkward

Pairing: Steve x Bucky, Reader insert

Warnings: none

word count: 3642 words

Part: twelve

Summary: Y/N’s now staying at Bucky’s.

Masterlist

* * * 

Y/N sits in the back of the ambulance as it rolls to the emergency ramp. Wanda talks to her about a lot of things to distract her without saying that she wants to distract her. And it works. She feels calmer than before, though she would rather have Steve by her side. The car stops and shortly after the backdoor gets opened, Sam appearing. “So, beautiful. Getting rolled in like a princess or walking like one?” Wanda snorts a laugh and Y/N shakes her head with slight amusement. She’s surprised that she can smile right now. The pain’s still pretty bad when she moves her hand or fingers. “Walking.”

“Alright, girl. Come on then.” I called ahead. Dr. Banner will see you in a few minutes. We just have to get the necessary paperwork done.” She only nods and lets Sam guide her to the waiting room and sits down on a free chair. While Wanda checks her in, he gets the paperwork and fills it out for her. Each time the doors to the Er get opened she looks up to see if Steve’s coming, though there’s no luck until now. After five minutes a man with curly hair and glasses walks up to her and Sam. “Miss Y/L/N?”

“Yes?”

“My name’s Dr. Bruce Banner. I’m your doctor for today. Would you follow me, please?” She nods but glances at Sam. “Has Steve- Can you-”

“Don’t worry. I’ll call him and let him know where you are.” She nods again and follows her doctor through the hall until she gets guided into a room. “Have a seat, please.” He gestures at the stretcher on the wall and rolls a chair over. Then he prepares a tray with all sorts of things before he sits down in front of her. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“I- I got a package with a bowl of acid in it and it l-leaked over my hands.”

“How much of it got on them.”

“N-not much, I think. I dropped it quickly.”

“Did you wash your hand under water afterward?”

“Yes.”

“Alright.” The man nods, getting a pair of gloves on and hold his hands out. “I’m going to unwrap your hands now to look at them, to see how bad it is. Afterward, I’m cleaning them off and do what’s necessary. We’ll see if you have to stay. It depends on how bad the burns are. Do you live alone?” He starts unwrapping her hands and Y/N is so distracted that she doesn’t even notice it at first. “No, my best friend Steve lives with me.”

“That’s good. You’ll probably need some help for a few weeks.” Dr. Banner finishes unwrapping her hands and looks them over, turning them to see the other side as well. In a matter of twenty minutes her hands are wrapped again, she has a description for some cream she should use and more bandages with the instruction to switch them every few hours for the next few days. He even measures her blood pressure. He states that it’s way too high and that Y/N looks still too tense so he offers her some painkillers and give’s her something to help calm her for a while. Then he admits her to a single bedroom. She doesn’t need to wait long. Just a few minutes after Dr. Banner leaves her Steve shows up. He looks a little frantic but relaxes as soon as he sees her propped up on the bad. “Hey.”

“Hi.” She yawns sleepily, stretching her hands out for him. She feels drowsy and tired, thanks because of the meds and the adrenaline that leaves her body now. Steve walks over to her, embracing her in his arms and kissing her head. “Ready to get out?”

“Home?” She closes her eyes sleepily, leaning her head against his shoulder. “Almost, yeah. We’re going to Bucky’s.” She only hums before she feels herself drift a little.

Steve carries her all the way to his car. She hears him talking about moving to Bucky because Brock doesn’t know where he lives but she only catches half of it. Shortly after Steve starts driving off, she falls asleep, forehead pressed firmly onto the cool glass of the window. Her dreams are vivid, brutal but sweet, too. One moment Bock almost kills her while choking her and then she’s suddenly standing in her living room, still gasping for air but wrapped up in Steve’s arms with Bucky beside him, contently watching a movie. Only to be thrown back to Brock again.

The next thing she notices is that Steve lifts her again. She feels sluggish and tired, only able to wrap her arms around his neck and snuggling deeper into him. “’eve? Home?”

“Yeah, doll. We’re at Bucky’s, remember?” She hums and closes her eyes again. “Hey. I prepared the guest room on the right for her. It’s directly opposite yours and mine is next to yours.” Y/N opens her eyes again only to be met with a half worried and half-smiling Bucky. He looks at her with concern in his eyes while he guides Steve through the halls with a hand on his lower back. She smiles a small smile back and lets Steve carry her all the way upstairs and into a room. Her eyes have closed again but they fly open as she hears Bucky scolding someone. “Maggie! Get down. Y/N is supposed to lie there.” Y/N looks around and spots Bucky standing at a bed, glaring at a white cat that ignores him completely. Her green eyes are trained on Y/N, though. “That’s Maggie?” Bucky looks up, surprise on his face. “Yeah. The little rat. Always where she’s not supposed to be.” Bucky sighs and picks the cat up. The fluff ball protests with a loud meow and some struggling but Bucky’s grip is tight. Steve sets Y/N down with a small laugh. Instead of getting settled, scooting back to sit comfortably, she stretches her bandaged hands out for the cat. “Give me.” Bucky raises his eyebrows, wearing the same amused smile that Steve has on his face. “You sure, with those hands?”

“Yeah, give me, please.” She pouts a little so both boys laugh. The brunette lets the cat jump from his arms onto the bed and she walks proudly over to Y/N, not even glancing back at him. Maggie starts sniffing carefully on Y/N’s pants and on the bandaged hand she stretches out. Y/N squeals lightly as she butts her head against the wrist before climbing up on her lap. “Oh, I think they’re best buddies now, Steve. We’re no longer needed.” Bucky sighs dramatically making Steve laugh and Y/N giggle a little. Steve looks fondly at her and Y/N raises her eyes to meet his. “What?”

“Nothing. It’s nice to see you laugh.” She smiles lightly at him. “Sap.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll be downstairs.” He raises his hand with another laugh but before he can follow Bucky outside Y/N stops him. “Steve?”

“Yeah?” He turns around and looks expectant at her as if Y/N would demand he stay and help her fall asleep. “Make sure you don’t let him go.”

“W-what?” Y/N sees him blush in a deep red and smiles at him. “You know what I mean.” Steve’s small smile shows that he knows exactly what she means. He nods shortly and leaves the room, letting the door just a slit opened. She smiles still at the door but then looks at her lap as the white feline climbs on her and starts rumbling in her chest. With all her care and energy that she has left, she shuffles back until her back hist the headboard, then she strokes with her hand carefully through the white fur. She doesn’t apply much pressure; afraid it will hurt her hand or the cat but she feels the fact immediately. She gets calmer the longer she has the can on her lap. The door opens after a silent knock and the brunette quickly peeks back inside the room. “Y/N, I saved your pizza and put it in my oven. If you’re hungry you can come down, yeah? Should be ready in ten.”

“Thank you, but I’m not that hungry anymore.”

“Alright. I still save you some if that big blonde goof didn’t eat everything by the time I get down.”

“I wouldn’t put it past him.” Y/N chuckles at him but is quickly distracted as Magnolia supports herself on her shoulders and butts her head against her chin. She misses Bucky’s smile and the snapping of his camera.

 * * *

 That night, Y/N turns in bed several times. She’s tired, but each time she closes her eyes, she has pictures of Brock in her mind, of the things he did and the things he could do. Maggie lies next to her on the bed, fast asleep, tightly cuddled against her shoulder. She had purred for a while, obviously trying to calm Y/N down, until she fell asleep herself. Y/N sighs and carefully slips out of bed. Her hands burn and throb badly and she remembers that she could take another dose of painkillers. As silently as she can she leaves the room only to looks up and down the hall. Her eyes lock on the door across hers, trying to remember which room belongs to who. She thinks Bucky said something about Steve being right across her so she steps up to the door that’s slightly ajar. For a moment she debates if she should wake him and ask if he would watch a movie with her. That usually helps her fall asleep pretty fast and if not, she always tires herself out while painting. Though, that won’t be a possibility for a while. At least as long as she’s not willing to learn drawing with her nose or feet which she really isn’t interested in.

She stares a little longer at the wood until her tiredness wins and she opens the door silently with one foot. “Steve?” The room is dark and no noises are heard except for soft breathing and the occasional snore. “Steve?” She whispers a little louder, tip-toeing over to the bed, and is surprised to not only find Steve there but Bucky, too. She had stayed in her bed, napped a little. She hasn’t heard them get up the stairs nor them slipping together into Steve’s room. Well, Y/N isn’t blind though, and has seen how well they get along, so instead of being concerned that they already started sharing a bed, she decides to be proud of Steve. He usually is a little awkward and old-fashioned about this kind of thing, so it’s an immensely big step for him as well. She blushes a little, feeling like she’s intruding and seeing something she shouldn’t see. They’re dressed, thankfully, which means this isn’t more awkward than it could have been. She’s just about to leave as she hears Steve groan. “Y/N?” His voice is slurred, obviously tired and sleepy. “Sorry. I’ll go again.”

“Nah, was’sup?” She watches as he sits up a bit, letting Bucky’s normal arm slip from his chest. The brunette huffs in his sleep and turns a little. Y/N can see that he’s not wearing his prosthetic. Thankfully. If it hurt on the day what must it feel like at night and sleeping on it? “Y/N?” Her eyes snap back to Steve and she shuffles on her feet. “I can’t sleep.” Steve raises his eyebrows at her, not really looking surprised. “Wanted to ask if you’re watching a movie with me, but… you have a guest, so I just-” She points back at the door ready to leave, but Steve stands up, walks around the bed, and crosses the one foot over to her to wrap her in a hug, pressing her to his chest. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I know it’s a lot right now.”

“Not as worse with him as it was before.” She chuckles dryly. She knows she’s right, though. Burns aren’t the worst that Brock can do, and she knows it pretty well. They stay like this for a moment, reluctant on what to do. She buries her face in his chest and sighs deeply. Another hand startles them. The hand grabs Y/N’s arms and she’s about to scream, but then she notices that Bucky had gotten out of bed. He pulls her with him on the bed, lies back down, and pulls her into him with a yawn. “Ehh…” Y/N looks startled and confused at Bucky, whose eyes are closed already. Then her eyes switch to Steve who just stands there and looks surprised. “Punk, you’re staying there?” Y/N looks a little uncomfortable to Steve, haven’t thought Bucky would do something like that. He knows her even less than he knows Steve! But then again, she doesn’t know him that well either and still invited him over and plays matchmaker for both of them. Steve only raises his eyebrows before he snorts. “Jerk.” He crawls back in bed and warps Y/N in his own arms, pulling her close to him like they do, when one of them is in a bad mood. She snuggles a little closer into his embrace and closes her eyes. Sleep comes sooner than she has expected it to come and it’s calm.

* * *

 Monday morning is a slow-going one. Bucky stays home with Y/N, Having off anyway. Steve has gone to work like usual, promising to tell Tony that she won’t be at work for the rest of the week and telling her, that he will be home around lunch, skipping his last class, since they are still working on their art projects and it’s not like the kids won’t be happy about it. As long as they finish their projects until Friday it doesn’t bother him as well. He should be home any minute now.

Y/N sits on the couch, flipping through a book with her fingertips as best as she can, while Bucky plays with Maggie on the carpet. He was supposed to do housework but Y/N isn’t the one to tell him that. Then the doorbell rings. “Could you?” Bucky sits on the floor while Maggie crawls all over him, so Y/N nods and stands up. The doorbell rings violently. Instantly, she knows who it is, even before she opens the door. Tony is pressing the button violently, while another man stands behind him, looking pretty embarrassed. Y/N stares for seconds before she catches herself. “What are you doing here?”

“What does Rogers mean, you can’t come to work because that asshole burnt your hands?” Y/N looks down at her wrapped hands before she really notices the other man behind Tony. “Dr. Banner?”

“Hi.” Dr. Banner waves shyly at her and Tony only raises his eyebrows. “Why do you know each other?”

“He’s the doctor that looked at my hands.” Y/N looks still confused at the doctor, but Tony turns around to him. “Why haven’t you told me? I worried for nothing!”

“You wouldn’t let me finish.” Tony rolls his eyes and turns back to Y/N. “So, are we gonna have a chat at the door or will you let me in? And where’s your Robo-friend? I want to look at that arm.”

“Tony!”

“Where’s who?” Just then does Bucky comes around the corner and steps up next to Y/N, looking at the new guests With Maggie on his arm. “Oh. I know that one. Isn’t he your boss?” Bucky raises his eyebrows and looks at Tony, who only crosses his arms. “Yeah, he is. Also, a friend.” She glances back at him before she looks at Bucky. “And a little worried about me. Hey Bucky, can I talk to you for a sec?” Y/N doesn’t wait for an answer and starts dragging the man to the kitchen, careful of her hands that start throbbing again. She doesn’t tell Tony or Bruce to come in, knowing Tony does it anyway. “What’s wrong?” Bucky stops walking in the kitchen and Y/N turns to him, glancing nervously at the door and back to Bucky. “Well, you know. Tony isn’t always the nicest. I mean… eh... He doesn’t mean to be bad, but sometimes insults just… slip.” She cringes a little at her sorry excuses of explanation. “Aha.” Bucky frowns at her, looking like he doesn’t understand her concern and Y/N clears her throat. “So, he knows you have-”

“Y/N, I don’t care if he insults my arm. I’m used to it by now.” Y/N sighs and looks at his arm. Bucky really shouldn’t be used to it. He’s such a nice person and knowing that he gets lots of comments about his missing limb makes Y/N sad. “Okay. There’s something else, though.”

“What is it?”

“Okay, so, you know Tony works at the school and is the headmaster, right?” She waits for Bucky to nod before she continues. “Well, he’s not only the headmaster and a teacher but an engineer. He built some things for the army before he dropped that and invented stuff like mobiles, tablets, things for clean energy… for people.”

“I don’t understand what that has to do with me.” Y/N looks at him, a bit lost, debating how to tell him that Tony wants to see his arm. She still doesn’t know if it’s a difficult topic for him to get touched by strangers. “He wants to look at your arm.” She blurts it out and curses herself afterward. “Oh.” Bucky suddenly looks pretty unsure. He looks down at his hand with a frown before he looks back at Y/N. “You don’t need to let him. You can just tell him you don’t want to, but he knows what he does. Sometimes, though, he’s a bit harsh with words and feelings.”

“No, I- I think it’s okay.” Bucky shrugs and Y/N can see that he tries to play it cool but really isn’t. “Maybe he might help with your shoulder. He could figure out why it so uncomfortable.” Bucky only nods. “Yeah…” For a moment she worries that she did something wrong but then Bucky sighs and gestures her to start walking. “Let’s meet him.” Tony has already made himself comfortable while Dr. Banner throws an apologizing look at them. Y/N smiles kindly at him, settling down beside Tony. Bucky gestures for the Doctor to have a seat. They chat for a while about the school, the renovations Tony’s doing on his house, again, and about a lot of normal stuff. Bruce, how she learned to call him now, wraps her hands again and says that it looks better than the day before, but she still has to apply the salve and wrap it up for a few more days. Magnolia seems to find the new guests as a disturbance but settles on Y/N’s lap and lets her stroke her fur in pleasure. She still throws glares at the two brunettes, though. At some point, Y/N looks up at Bucky and finds him staring at her with a pout. “What?”

“It’s not fair, you know?”

“What do you mean?” She watches him confused. His eyes wander to Maggie and Y/N’s hand and back up. “She already loves you more than me. That’s not fair. I’m feeding her.” Y/N instantly barks out a laugh. “Are you jealous?”

“Yes.” Y/N laughs even louder now and just throws a pitying look at him. “I’m sorry. Can’t help it, though.”

“Maybe I can help with that.” Y/N looks up to see Steve entering the Livingroom, crooked smile and work bag slung over his shoulder. He walks up to Bucky, who turns around and puts his hands on the other man’s shoulder, lightly massaging him with a soft smile. “Look at that, Rogers finally found himself a girlfriend.”

“Tony!” Y/N scolds him the same moment Bruce does. At least he has the decency to look ashamed and shatters that the next second. “A boyfriend, sorry.” Y/N rolls her eyes and catches Steve blushing furiously while Bucky just looks equal confused, embarrassed, and… happy? Steve rubs his neck, casts a small look at Tony, and vanishes quickly. Y/N glances at Bucky. “I’m sorry, I told you he’s not good with feelings and all.” Bucky just shrugs.

„So, Robo-cop. Show me this arm.”

“Tony! Sensitive topic, remember?” Y/N glares at him but Tony doesn’t care. He only mutters a silent please and stands up to walk closer to bucky. The brunette looks a little uncomfortable at the engineer. “Buck, you don’t have to.”

“Pah, nonsense. I’m just wanting to look at it. Any trouble with it so far?” He steps closer to Bucky inspecting his arm first without touching, then he crouches down and holds out his hand. Despite what most people believe, Tony knows damn well that not everybody likes to get toughed, especially when it’s about the prosthetic so he offers Bucky the chance to choose when and if he likes to get touched. Bucky hesitates for a second but then puts his hand in Tony’s. “It hurts my shoulder. Doesn’t fit right and it’s pretty heavy. Sometimes the responses are delayed and instead of grabbing something I knock it over.”

“Hm. I see.” Tony runs his fingers over the prosthetic from the fingers up to the elbow. “Can I?” he motions for Bucky’s t-shirt and bucky nods. Y/N watches in amazement how Tony runs his hand along the arm, shoving the sleeve up as well, and then… suddenly barks out a laugh. “hammer tech!” He stands up, still laughing, and it's down beside Y/N again. She has to admit that she can’t suppress her own smirk. “What’s so funny?” Poor Bucky looks utterly confused and Steve matches his look as he joins him on his couch. “hammer tech is bad. I can build you a better one.”

Previous Part / Next Part

[wikioftheweek]

List of Baby Geniuses Wiki of the Week Articles

0 Baby Geniuses

1 ASMR (unofficially; did not have a Wikipedia page at the time)

2 Fan death

3 Figging

4 Schmidt sting pain index

5 Bald-hairy

6 Mary Toft

7 Jenkem

8 Polyphasic sleep (now redirects to Biphasic and polyphasic sleep)

9 James Randi Educational Foundation

10 List of unusual deaths

11 Koro (medicine)

12 List of common misconceptions

13 Mojave phone booth

14 Action Park

15 Witzelsucht

16 Krampus and Zwarte Piet (Black Peter)

17 Scratch and sniff

18 Bummer and Lazarus

19 Jeanne Calment

20 Nickelodeon toys

21 Daggering

22 List of sexually active popes

23 Buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo

24 Emperor Norton

25 Paris syndrome

26 ALF (TV series)

27 Fossil word

28 Spite house

29 Women in piracy

30 Art competitions at the Summer Olympics

31 List of animals with fraudulent diplomas (now redirects to List of animals awarded human credentials)

32 Prostitution among animals

33 Tenderoni

34 My Way killings

35 Mike the Headless Chicken

36 List of inventors killed by their own inventions

37 Inedia

38 (Episode does not exist)

39 Tarrare

40 Sweater curse

41 Death from laughter

42 Dude

43 List of people claimed to be Jesus

44 Lucy the Elephant

45 How to keep chickens from eating their own eggs (Wikihow article)

46 List of nicknames used by George W. Bush

47 Cryptozoology

48 Bob the Railway Dog

49 Magic Castle (discussed very briefly)

50 Wartime cross-dressers

51 Streisand effect

52 Self-cannibalism

53 Sex in space

54 Other World Kingdom

55 Death erection

56 Taboo food and drink (now redirects to Food and drink prohibitions)

57 (no Wiki of the Week)

58 Florence Foster Jenkins

59 Kentucky meat shower

60 Susunu! Denpa Shonen

61 Felix Moncla

62 Walter Jackson Freeman II

63 You're So Vain

64 McDonald's urban legends

65 List of paraphilias

66 Hedy Lamarr

67 Last meal

68 Hatoful Boyfriend

69 United States presidential pets

70 Maginot Line

71 Finnish profanity

72 McArthur Wheeler (now redirects to Dunning-Kruger Effect)

73 List of unusual deaths

74 GamerGate Controversy

75 Scaphism

76 Dancing mania

77 Non-English Versions of The Simpsons

78 Fart proudly

79 List of humorous units of measurement

80 Rumpology

81 Takanakuy

82 White Day

83 Max Headroom signal hijacking

84 Cymothoa exigua

85 Ganguro

86 Reborn doll

87 Drukpa Kunley

88 Crush, Texas (now redirects to Crash at Crush)

89 Cotard delusion

90 Why did the chicken cross the road?

91 Berners St hoax

92 Evander Berry Wall

93 Premastication

94 List of objects that have gone over Niagara Falls (now redirects to List of people who have gone over Niagara Falls)

95 Largest body part

96 You can't have your cake and eat it

97 Urine therapy

98 Oak Island mystery

99 Fearsome critters

100 Swan dress

101 List of selfie-related injuries and deaths

102 Potoooooooo

103 Julie d'Aubigny

104 (no Wiki of the Week)

105 Gavle goat

106 William Hale Thompson

107 List of Olympic mascots

108 Walter Lingo

109 Pam Reynolds case

110 Smigus-Dyngus (Dyngus Day)

111 Tio de Nadal

112 June and Jennifer Gibbons

113 Hairy Hands

114 Sunshower

115 Hypoalgesic effect of swearing

116 Lloyd's of London

117 Struwwelpeter

118 Haru Urara

119 Anti-Barney humor

120 Hundeprutterrutchbane

121 Accidental damage of art

122 Lisa Nowak

123 Tilberi

124 Hair of the dog

125 Bill Clinton Haircut Controversy (now redirects to Public Image of Bill Clinton section Haircutgate)

126 Penis captivus

127 Candle salad

128/129 Responses to sneezing

130 Gef

131 Melon heads

132 Gay and Lesbian Kingdom of the Coral Sea Islands

133 Telling the bees

134 Kappa (folklore)

135 Shrek (sheep)

136 Concealed shoes

137 Highgate vampire

138 Zozobra

139 Dirty blues

140 Office assistant (also known as Clippy)

141 Virgin boy egg

142 Fartons

143 Balloonfest '86

144 Lapland New Forest

145 Curse of the colonel

146 Squatting position: Hunkerin' (section no longer exists)

147 Margaret Howe Lovatt

148 Cobra effect (now redirects to Perverse Incentive)

149 Frozen Dead Guy Days

150 Republic of Molossia

151 List of premature obituaries

152 Athletics at the 1904 Summer Olympics - Men's Marathon

153 Agnodice

154 The Most Unwanted Song

155 Vegetable Lamb of Tartary

156 Death during consensual sex

157 Catalan mythology about witches

158 List of gestures

159 Clamato

160 Each-uisge (water horse)

161 Flatulence humor

162 Mariko Aoki Phenomenon

163 Goofy

164 Chicken eyeglasses

165 Mozart and scatology

166 Ming of harlem

167 Twelve Tribes Communities

168 Andree's Arctic Balloon Expedition

169 Joey Skaggs

170 Amy Bock

171 Greenland shark

172 Mabel Stark

173 Person

174 Wikipedia:Long-Term Abuse/List

175 Dhinga Gavar

176 Skunks as pets

177 J. I. Rodale

178 Witch bottle

179 List of U.S. Presidential campaign slogans

180 Bernd das Brot

181 George Tirebiter

182 Lloyds Bank coprolite

183 Tama (cat)

184 Wizard of New Zealand

185 Learned pig

186 Miss Baker

187 Forty Elephants

188 Sheela Na Gig

189 Planetary mnemonic

190 Seedfeeder

191 John Titor

192 Lek mating

193 Roar (film)

194 Acoustic Kitty and JD & The Straight Shot

195 Soucouyant

196 Trash talk and Flyting

197 Mannekin Pis

198 Curse tablet

199 Dancing Baby

200 Cassie Chadwick

201 Serge Voronoff

202 Groom of the Stool

203 Safety coffin

204 Table manners

205 Tempest prognosticator

206 Vittorio Emanuele, Prince of Naples

207 Icelandic Christmas folklore

208 Guy Goma

209 Extreme ironing

210 Victor Lustig

211 Australia's Naughtiest Home Videos

212 El Gran Juego de la Oca

213 Long-time nuclear waste warning messages

214 The Mad Pooper

215 Nim Chimpsky

216 Bridey Murphey

217 Grunge speak

218 WWF Brawl for All

219 Elizabeth Klarer

220 The Brave Little Toaster Goes to Mars

221 Top euphemisms for "period" by language (not a Wikipedia page)

222 Tristan da Cunha

223 Nils Olav

224 Giulia Tofana

225 Alvin "Shipwreck" Kelly

226 Egg War

227 List of sandwiches

228 Mr. Blobby

229 Robert Coates (actor)

230 Crime in Antarctica

231 Worm charming

232 McDonald's Characters (now redirects to McDonaldland)

233 Kitty Fisher

234 Jimmy Carter Rabbit Incident and Puzzle jug

235 Fascinus

236 Computer rage

237 Nutty Narrows Bridge

238 Australia's Big Things

239 Billiken

240 Loveland Frog

241 List of CB slang

242 Salmon chaos

243 Great Michigan Pizza Funeral

244 Dustin the Turkey

[slippinmickeys]

A Companion Unobtrusive

You can find Chapter One here.

On move-in day, Mulder showed up at her (their) door at 9:00am sharp, wearing a ratty Oxford University sweatshirt and an anxious expression.

“Hey,” he said, when she opened the door, “I got a buddy downstairs with a truck. Where should he park it?”

“Follow me,” Scully said, and grabbed her keys off the hook by the door. She led him down the stairs and around to the back of the building.

“We’ve got two parking spots,” she said, “though I don’t have a car. You can have him pull in here. The one next to it is yours. You ride a motorcycle, right?”

He nodded and then jogged to the corner and called out to the friend he had waiting, who pulled into the alley and then leaned out of the open window.

“Frohike, Scully, Dana Scully, my buddy Melvin Frohike,” Mulder introduced them.

“Last name basis with everyone, huh?” Scully said to Mulder in a low voice. He smiled.

“She’s hot,” was all Frohike said, and Mulder flipped him off and then directed him into the narrow space.

Scully looked down at her jean cut-offs and baggy, laundry-day tee shirt. She wasn’t exactly dressed for Prime Time.

Frohike cut the engine,  jumped out and they all gathered around the back of the truck. There were about a dozen medium sized boxes and no furniture.

“Is this it?” Scully asked.

“I am but a humble nomad,” Mulder said, “taking only what I can carry.”

“What he means is that he sold almost all his shit when he left England,” Frohike said, “I hope you have pots and pans.”

Scully laughed.

“I do, and you’re welcome to use them,” she said,  “Five bucks a pop for utensils, though.”

“I like her,” said Frohike, hooking a thumb at Scully as he pulled down the tailgate.

They had everything up and into Mulder’s bedroom in less than ten minutes.

“I’m off,” said Frohike, the second he set the last box down on Mulder’s floor. “It was nice meeting you, Scully.”

“Likewise,” said Scully, who was leaning against the frame of Mulder’s door.

On his way out, Frohike paused by Scully and leaned into her confidentially.

“If he tries to seduce you, let him down easy. The man’s got no game,” he said.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Scully said and then cut a look to Mulder who looked more than a little glad to see the back of Frohike.

“Where’d you pick him up?” Scully said, once the front door had closed behind him.

“I collect strays,” Mulder said simply, peeling the tape off of one of the boxes.

Scully took a step back into the hallway.

“I’ll leave you to it,” she said. Then, “Oh! Here’s your key,” she stepped back into his room, and handed over the single key. “It works on the building doors and the apartment deadbolt. Sometimes you have to wiggle it a bit on the lock by the garage.”

Mulder nodded his thanks and she backed out.

“Let me know if you need help or anything,” she called out over her shoulder.

XxXxXxXxXxX

A few hours later, she knocked on his door.

“I come bearing gifts,” she said, holding up a pizza box and a six pack of Shiner Bock.

“Marry me,” he said, and she smiled, looking around the room. He’d hung clothes in the closet, and had all his other meager possessions in various small stacks around the room. He’d broken down the boxes and had them sitting neatly by the door. He looked exhausted.

“There’s Spartan furnishings, and then there’s this,” she said, and he shrugged, chagrined.

“I’ll need to do some shopping in the immediate future, I’ll grant you,” he said.

“The good news is, I have a real table with real chairs not eight yards from your bedroom door.” She held up the pizza and six pack once again, “Come on,” she said, “your piles aren’t going anywhere.”

He followed her to the kitchen and she gave him a quick rundown of what cabinets held what, pulling down plates and glasses. She pulled out two beers and slid the rest of the six pack back in the fridge.

She opened them both and handed him one. He clinked the bottles together.

“Happy housewarming,” she said.

“Slainte,” he said, and they both took a slug.

A semi-comfortable silence descended on them, and Scully filled it by sliding a couple slices of pizza on her plate. Mulder sat back and pushed the sleeves of his sweatshirt up his forearms. They looked tanned even in the washed out light of the kitchen and were roped with muscle and sprinkled with dark hair.

“Ever wonder why they call it a housewarming?” Mulder asked.

“I never really thought about it,” she said, and then leaned forward. “But now I want to know.”

She looked at him and he smiled back.

“Fire is a classic symbol of strength and purity, which is why many European traditions involve lighting a candle or a fire on your first night in a new home. Doing so is said to ward off evil spirits by casting away darkness. It’s fallen out of practice with modern conveniences like electricity, but the name stuck.”

“Well,” said Scully, “aren’t you a wellspring of random and arcane facts.”

Mulder held up his beer.

“You have no idea,” he said, and she laughed.

She peeled off a piece of pepperoni from one of her slices of pizza, and popped it into her mouth.

“Be right back,” she said, and came back a moment later with a large white pillar candle and a box of matches. She struck a match and lit the candle, then held out her beer. He clinked the neck of his to the neck of hers.

“To warding off evil spirits,” she said.

“And casting out darkness,” he replied.

They smiled at each other, the silence turning easy.

XxXxXxXxXxX

A few days had passed. Enough for them each to get to know the other’s routines and for the excessive politeness of two strangers sharing a space to fade a bit.

Scully was sitting on the couch going over classwork when Mulder emerged from his room in running shorts and a ratty tee shirt with the sleeves cut off. The skin on his upper arms was paler than that of his lower arms, but had a delineated curve where deltoid met bicep. It took a minute to look away.

“Going for a run?” she asked a little too brightly.

“I was hoping to,” he said, sitting down in front of the front door to put on his running shoes. “Are there any good places around here?”

She set down the paper she was holding, thinking.

“There’s a park a few blocks away, over by the… you know what, it’ll be easier if I show you. Mind some company?”

“I’d love some,” he said, smiling.

“Be right back,” she said, and ran upstairs to change.

When she got back to the living room, he was stretching, one leg held up in a quad stretch, standing with the graceful ease of perfect balance.

“Ready?” she asked, pulling an old baseball cap over her messy ponytail.

He lowered his leg to the floor and swept his eyes over her once.

“As I’ll ever be,” he said.

They walked the first few blocks, with Scully taking the opportunity to point out various neighborhood hot spots -- the local gas station, the corner market.

When they got to the park nearby, she ducked under a low hanging tree to find the running path that ran near the outskirts.

“This way,” she said, and they started to jog.

After a few minutes, she threw him a look.

“I’m slowing you down,” she said, guiltily.

He was taking short strides next to her, keeping pace with her.

“Nonsense,” he said, staring straight ahead.

“Muder, your legs are about a foot longer than mine, you could run circles around me,” she said.

“Sounds like a good idea,” he said with a glimmer in his eye, and then pulled the hat off her head and started running in literal circles around her, hooting at her while she grabbed at the hat -- every time she got close, he’d pull it away, holding it behind his back or far above his head where she could never reach it. After a minute of keep away, they were both laughing and she pulled up, out of breath but with a smile on her face.

“I knew I was slowing you down,” she laughed, and bent to put her hands on her knees.

“Aw,” he said, putting the cap back on her head and pulling it low, “you’d have caught up eventually.”

He gave one last tug on the brim of the cap and they stood looking at each other, a moment passing between them. Scully felt something low in her belly, and there was a sharp look in Mulder’s eye.

“Why don’t you go ahead and get your miles in,” Scully said, taking a step back and breaking the moment. “You know how to get back?”

Mulder nodded at her.

“Sure you don’t want to come along?” he asked.

“Pass,” she said, “I’ll see you at home.”

He took a few steps backward, holding her eye and then turned and loped off back down the path, eating up the distance in long, even strides.

XxXxXxXxXxX

The days turned into a week and then two. Their schedules were pretty compatible, and they usually woke up and ate breakfast at about the same time, and then Scully would leave to head onto campus.

She came back on a Thursday afternoon, holding a folder full of medical school applications, her gut churning in nervous anticipation. Her MCAT scores were good. Hopefully good enough to secure at least one full ride scholarship. She closed the door to the apartment with her head in the clouds, and it took her a moment to notice Mulder, who was standing in the middle of the living room, holding the telephone. He was just lowering it from his ear and he had a queer look on his face.

“Mulder?” Scully said, “Everything okay?”

“I just accepted a job,” he said, looking a little surprised.

“What? That’s fantastic!” Scully said, swinging her backpack down to the floor and plopping the folder of applications on top of it.

“Yeah,” he said, and then moved to the wall to hang up the phone.

“You seem surprised,” Scully said, walking toward him.

“I am,” he said, turning toward her from the wall. “It’s the one I was hoping for. I did not expect to get it.”

“What’s the position?” Scully asked, moving to stand in front of him.

“I’ll be starting at one of the best Psychology practices in the Metro area. Low on the totem pole, but they’ve offered to train me until I get licensed.”

The surprise on his face melted slowly into happiness as the news started to sink in.

On a whim, Scully wrapped her arms around him in a hug. He returned it, warmly.

“Congratulations,” she said into his shirt, then looked up into his face. “This calls for a celebration.”

“Yeah?” he said, looking down at her with a smile. She felt color spreading up her cheeks. After a second they let their hands fall away from each other. “What’d you have in mind?” he asked, taking a step back.

“Drinks,” she said, taking a step back, herself. “There’s a great dive bar right down the street.”

“When can we leave?” he asked.

XxXxXxXxXxX

They were at least four drinks in, not counting the two tequila shots she’d insisted on when they first arrived. They’d both agreed their third drink should be water, and Scully had lost count after that. She had ordered a glass of the house Chardonnay (“It’s terrible, but also four dollars,”), and Mulder appeared to be pacing himself through a large gin and tonic, while Scully told a story.

“And then we said ‘follow that car!’” Scully said.

“You didn’t,” Mulder said.

“We did,” said Scully on a laugh, “but to our surprise the cabbie didn’t share in our excitement and instead slammed on the breaks half a block down the street and told us to get out.”

Mulder threw his head back and laughed.

They had started at the bar, but moved to a dark booth in the back when the place started filling up with the after-work crowd. Rush was playing too loud on the jukebox nearby. The drinks were cheap, the tables were sticky and the lighting was bad.

“I love this place,” Mulder said, looking around.

“Me too,” said Scully, watching the way his adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed his drink. “It’s the perfect dive bar.”

Mulder leaned back in the booth and leveled a look at her.

“Tell me about Dana Scully,” he said.

“There’s not much to tell,” she said, humbly.

“Nonsense,” he said, “a smart, beautiful woman like you? I bet you’ve got a lot going on.”

She ducked her head at the compliment. She’d noticed that he peered rather than looked. There was a ribald quality to his gaze, though she found herself more intrigued than intimidated. Mulder looked at her as if she were a question to be answered and she found herself hoping to be worthy of his inquiry.

“Boyfriend?” he prodded, taking a big drink. She rolled her eyes just thinking about Ethan. “Ha!” he went on, “there’s a story there. Tell it.”

He crunched ice from his glass, the dull sound brushing across her skin like a memory. He held the dewy tumbler in long, elegant fingers and for a moment she felt like a real, live grown-up.

She told him about Ethan. She probably shared more than she should have. How they’d started dating in high school when her father retired from the Navy and they moved to Maryland. She told him about her dreams of becoming a doctor and how she’d broken up with Ethan over it. When she finished, he held up his glass.

“Fuck that guy,” Mulder said, and clinked her glass with his.

“I did,” Scully said, and Mulder choked on his drink, laughing. While he recovered, Scully handed him a napkin and leaned back. “I tell you,” she went on, “I’m thrilled to be single right now.”

Mulder cut his eyes to her.

“Tell me about Fox Mulder,” she said, diverting the conversation, “smart, handsome guy like you? I bet you’ve got a lot going on.”

He smirked at her as he brushed the front of his shirt with the napkin.

“You said no girlfriend, right?” she asked, feeling brave.

“I’m thrilled to be single right now,” he said, giving her a look she couldn’t read. The silence stretched for a moment.

“Missy said you moved back for your sister?”

“That, and it was time to come back,” he said, sighing. He started shredding bits of the napkin onto the tabletop.  “Sam is doing well in school, but that’s about it. She’s at the age where you leave home and strike out on your own but always have that parental support, that thing to fall back on, that place to go home to. Mom and Dad died just after she left for college, and… I think she feels like she was just expelled into the world before she was ready. She’s sad and angry, and I don’t quite know what to do for her. PhD in Psychology and here I am flapping in the breeze, not even able to help my own sister.”

Scully reached across the table and squeezed his arm.

He smiled self-consciously and stood. He looked brooding and slapdash in the half-light of the bar, stippled with 5 o’clock shadow and flecked with chips of light from a distant, dusty disco ball. She found herself wanting to run her hands through his sable hair and brush her lips over his cheek. She threw back the rest of her wine instead.

“We need another round,” he said.

“We really don’t,” Scully said, reaching up and feeling the end of her nose. When she had too much to drink, it went numb. She couldn’t feel it.

“Are we out celebrating me or not?” he said.

“We are.”

“Then I say we need another round,” and with that he walked to the bar, though when he came back, he was carrying two waters.

“Bartender insisted,” he said.

“He’s a good guy,” Scully said, waving in the direction of the bar. A nod from the bartender.

They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, drinking water and watching the bar fill up. Then Spirit of the Radio came on the jukebox and Mulder leaned back his head as if in ecstasy.

“I love this song,” he said.

“I had you pegged as an INXS guy,” Scully said.

“You wouldn’t be wrong,” he replied. He looked at her steadily. “Let’s dance.”

Scully looked skeptically towards what passed for a dance floor.

“Mulder, no one has danced here in at least a decade,” she said, thinking of a fifty-something barfly swaying by herself to Jolene .

“All the more reason,” he said, sliding out of the booth and holding out his hand. There was a rakish glint in his eye and his renegade jaw clenched once.

“I’m not drunk enough for this,” she said, though she put her hand in his and let him pull her up.

“Yes, you are,” he laughed and led her to the middle of the floor.

She was definitely drunk enough because it took nothing at all for her to start dancing. The bartender, who knew her from more than a few nights out with Ellen, smiled at her and bent down under the bar. A second or two later the volume of the music went up and he stood, giving her a thumbs up. She laughed and let herself go.

When the guitar solo started in the middle of the song, Mulder leaned back and started playing an air guitar, throwing his head into it with enthusiasm.

“You’re such a dork!” Scully yelled to him over the music.

“You love it!” he yelled back.

She had to admit, she kind of did. She liked that he seemed to live his life not caring what other people thought of him. It was a lesson she should probably learn herself.

When the song ended and Tom Sawyer came on, she took a step back, and looked up at him. She was sweaty and suddenly self-conscious, feeling like a goldfish in a bowl.

“We should go home,” she said, feeling a lot drunker than she thought she’d been, “get some food.”

He stood up straight, as if gauging how he felt and swayed just a bit.

“You’re right,” he said, “we should.”

They strolled to the bar to settle their tab, and he wouldn’t hear of letting her pay.

They walked out of the bar and were surprised to find that night had fallen. The sudden silence settled over them like a heavy blanket. The air was so fresh it almost hurt to breathe it.

“You should have let me pay,” Scully said, speaking too loudly, her ears ringing with a brief tinnitus from the music. She lowered her voice, “we’re celebrating your accomplishment.”

“Well, my accomplishment is going to pay a lot better than your post-grad stipend, I guarantee you.”

“Still…” she said, and then tripped over the curb.

Mulder reached out and grabbed her arm, saving her from a face plant.

“All hands on deck!” he said, and she smiled and looked up at him gratefully. He slid his hand down her arm and took her hand. “Two blocks to go,” he said, “we got this.”

His hand was warm in hers, dry. She squeezed it. Inhibitions lowered, she could feel herself falling for him a little, against her will.

When they got to their building, there was a young woman sitting on the steps out front with her arms crossed, looking like she was on the verge of tears. When the woman heard them, she turned to look and her face registered surprise and, when her gaze dropped to their linked hands, unhappy confusion.

Scully suddenly wondered if Mulder actually did have a girlfriend and she felt her stomach reel.

“Sam!” Mulder said, dropping her hand. He lurched forward and grabbed the woman in a bear hug.

“Get off, Fox,” she said, pushing him back, “you smell like a frat party.”

Mulder’s face fell.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“What’s wrong ?” the woman’s voice went up an entire octave, “you told me to come here at 7:30. I’ve been sitting out here for an hour and a half!”

“Shit,” Mulder swore. “I’m so sorry.” His apology did nothing to improve her demeanor.

Mulder then seemed to remember Scully’s presence.

“Oh,” he said, “Sam, this is my new roommate Dana Scully. Scully, this is Samantha, my sister.”

“Scully?” Samantha said, and made no move to shake hands. “You’re still doing that last name thing?” Her eye roll was implied.

“Let’s go inside,” Scully said, for something to do, and pulled out her keys to unlock the building’s door. When she got the key close to the lock, she dropped the whole ring. She could hear Samantha sighing in annoyance behind her.

“So, you went out partying instead of meeting me,” Samantha said, her voice flat. “Awesome.”

Scully recovered, got the door open and they all trooped up the stairs to the apartment in silence.

Once inside, Scully knelt to pick up the backpack and envelope of applications she’d dropped by the door earlier and made her way to the stairs.

“I’ll let you two catch up,” she said, excusing herself.

Mulder threw her an apologetic look. She flopped on the bed when she got to her room, applications forgotten until tomorrow.

[frangipanidownunder]

So you simply can't post a list of kiss prompts and expect me NOT to ask you for one. Do you not even KNOW me? Please consider a ficlet (or more!) for #11-Reunion kiss. But maybe pre-breakup. A reunion after being apart for some other reason? This could easily be combined with another kind of kiss - first, shy, etc. (And I am holding my breath for your maid/master AU!) Fic is Medicine Anon

A Lifetime Ago: Fic

Fat blossoms, serrated petals, marshmallow pink, weighted the branches on the tree in the courtyard of her block. Sun heated the top of her head, lifting the hair from her scalp, and the interior of the car smelled of warm leather and dust. Motes danced as she laid her jacket on the passenger seat. 

When Mulder got in, he moved the jacket. Of course. She’d become so used to driving alone. More dust sparkled in the shaft of sunlight that shot through the glass. A glitter welcome party. 

“Sorry,” she mumbled, lost in the weird sense of the strange and familiar, the old and the new. He looked at her oddly. 

It made her blush, the intensity of his scrutiny. But the house looked pretty in the rearview mirror. Climbing vines over the fence, vivid green leaves bushy on the trees and shrubs. She could see a row of stakes just by the shed.

“Tomatoes?” she asked, nodding over her shoulder.

“Dirty Girl, Super Snow White and Ruby Gold.”

She drove over the gravel towards the road. “Sounds like one of those movies you used to watch.”

His chuckle was chesty, and she caught his full smile out the corner of her eye. He looked well. He looked good. He’d been looking better each time she’d seen him over the past few months, as though he’d turned some corner in his mind and life was no longer the bitter drag it had been. If tomato plants with exotic names were the key to this change, she’d take that over Prozac and desperate, begging midnight phone calls.

Years before she had loved those quiet, murmured conversations. When they meant connection, trust. But the FBI was a lifetime, a lost child and a break-up ago. Now, phone calls were made in office hours, more recently, she realised, when she was already on her way to see him.

“Where are we going again?” he asked, winding the window down and resting an elbow on the sill. “I admit I was surprised when you called. It kind of felt like you were asking me on a date.” He looked across at her and the fresh blast of air saved her from blushing again. “Is this a date?”

Chuffing, she fixed her eyes on the road. “When was the last time you went out, Mulder?”

“I go out,” he said, indignant. 

She snorted. “Running at three in the morning does not constitute going out.” 

“I’ve become friendly with the guy at the nursery.”

“Friendly?”

“Don’t give me that look. I can be friendly, Scully.” She remembered his friendly as either empathetic, nerdy or flirty.  “He orders heirloom produce for me, teaches me about companion plants and has a fascination for UFOs. Funny how life works out, huh?”

“Huh,” she said. Nerdy.

A colleague at the hospital had married at the winery last fall and Scully had been struck by the setting, the ambience. Now she looked around and saw its precise beauty, high vaulted ceiling, wide landscapes on the silvery walls, starched white linen, gold embossed menus, cut crystalware. It was over the top. God, she’d misjudged this. Why didn’t she just go for Clint’s Diner where the talking point was the font used to spell the name, so that the L and the I were joined to form what looked like a U. Asking for the cunt’s special was Mulder’s favourite joke.  Even the Italian bistro with the red and white checked plastic tablecloths and fake tealights in jam jars would have been a better choice.

“So it is a date,” he said, but behind his broad grin there was a look of trepidation. He went to hook his thumbs in his belt loops but he wasn’t wearing shitty jeans. Instead, his fist curled into his pants pocket and he stood, uncharacteristically insignificant, in the magnificent room.

Guilt flared in her chest. Mulder had been a recluse for years, pummelling his chest with his self-hatred and lacing all their interactions with accusations and blame, and now, because he was growing fucking tomatoes, she’d decided he could cope with a three-course degustation lunch and two glasses of Pinot Gris?“This is not what I…” But she was cut off by the Maitre D who swept over and checked the booking. “Dr Scully, yes, that’s right.” Why had she chosen that salutation when she called. It made it sound like a business lunch.

Their table was on the terrace under heavy-scented purple wisteria. The waiter unflapped serviettes like he was cracking a whip. He placed glasses, crockery and cutlery with the precision required for surgery. Mulder remained quiet the entire time, but regarded her, not the waiter. His expression softened when the waiter left and dappled light filtered over his skin.

“This is not what I expected, Scully. But it’s a step up from chilli dogs and Shiner Bock.”

Ugh. Now she was craving an evening on the couch watching him watching the game. “I’m sorry, Mulder. This feels all wrong.”

“Hey,” he said, leaning forward, sliding his hand over the table top, but careful to leave his fingers just an inch from hers. “It’s fine. I kind of love being wined and dined. It makes me feel special.” His fingers crept closer, close enough for her to see the white fleck on his left index nail, the light abrasion on his ring finger knuckle, close enough to remember what those elegant digits used to do to her.“As long as you don’t expect me to put out, Scully.” He grinned suddenly. “You should know up front that I’m not that easy.”

No, she thought, you’re not. We were never easy, you and me. She laughed at his joke anyway, his smile urged her to indulge him. The waiter brought the wine and Mulder sniffed, swirled and sipped it before giving it his approval. They chose entrees and mains and he chatted amiably, telling stories about the nursery dude and his collection of blurry photos of cigar-shaped crafts.

“I hadn’t the heart to tell him it was all BS, Scully. Why burst his bubble? He gets a lot of joy out of it.” Ah, empathy.

“And you get free seeds. Sounds like a fair exchange.”

He sat back, arms behind his head, before realising where he was and sitting upright, hands on his lap, much more respectable. “I’ve missed you,” he said, out of nowhere. “But this was nice. Unexpectedly so. A nice date, if I may be so bold as to describe it so, Doc.”

Flirty. She chuffed, cheeks aflame. The wine, she thought. It was always the wine. “It’s good to see you so relaxed, Mulder. It’s been a while.”

“Was I ever relaxed, Scully?” he asked, genuinely. “I look back now and see how tightly coiled I was. Have been.” His head bobbed down, but his eyes lifted to hers. “Am.”

The first time she visited him after she left, he was cowering under the kitchen table, shards of glass and ceramic scattered across the floor. He didn’t speak for an hour. She sat at a chair six feet away from him, listening to his tight sobs, watching his shoulders bunch, while she embraced her old friend, guilt.

“You’ve been through a lot, Mulder. We both have. It’s been a difficult…”

“Life?” he supplied.

“I was going to say time, but yeah. That too.” She laughed and so did he. His fingers edged forward again, touching hers this time. Heat sparked. He felt it too, he almost recoiled in shock, but pressed on, covering her hand with his. He clasped it gently, lifted it, nuzzled her knuckles, eyes closed so she could admire the length of his lashes and the furrow between his brows. A lifetime of pain in two creases. She had an urge to kiss them, run her tongue along the downy lines of them, taste his familiar skin.

“We should go,” she said, after a time. 

He held the door open for her and stooped inside the car, dazzling her with his smile. “Just remember, I don’t go all the way on first dates.”

“What about first base?” she said, after he’d already shut the door.

They drove back, listening to an 80s radio station that Mulder found with ease. He belted out Living on a Prayer and other big ballads, air guitar and all. She smiled all the way to the house. When she parked, Sinead O’Connor’s singular voice introduced Nothing Compares 2 U. She went to turn the radio off but he held her wrist.

“I love this song,” he said. “Prince’s masterful lyrics. And that video clip.”

“It was a powerful statement,” she replied and let his fingers curl around hers. 

“I really did enjoy this, Scully. Going out, you know, where people are…out there. It’s hard sometimes. I…don’t…I haven’t done it often because it feels like I’m a trespasser, that I don’t belong.”

“You never did. We never did, Mulder. We were always on the outer.”

“But with you,” he said, snugging her single hand in both of his. “I always felt braver in company.”

Heat spread in her chest, her heart pinged. She didn’t know what to say. Literally no words formed, despite her mouth falling open. Tears burnt at her eyes but she wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t. 

“What about that first base, Scully?” His smile was a little hopeful, a lot wobbly.

She nodded. He captured her open lips and closed them between his. It was strange and familiar, old and new again. Sparkles glittered behind her eyes, just like those dust motes. When was that? Just a few hours ago? Surely not. That glitter welcome party was a lifetime ago.

[kingofdirtandnothing]

@polyfacetious big ass Christmas Drabble Extravagaza: Day Twenty Four

The water is beautiful, pristine and blue, with frothy white peaks from the waves as they crest and fall over each other. It was somehow even bluer than the sky, that was wide open and only dotted with fat white clouds, the sun beating down on their shoulders with the full brunt of summer. 

Ben was going to be lobster red by the time they were done today. Poe could already see the pink starting to spread across the bridge of his nose and the broad set of his freckled shoulders. No matter how many times he re-applied his sunscreen, Ben managed to burn. 

And he was going to burn to a crisp if Poe couldn’t get him off of this cliff and down into the water below. 

“Come on.” Poe was trying for seductive, cool. He was pretty sure it was coming out wheedling, given the look that Ben was shooting him right about now. “It’s not even that high.” That was a bunch of bullshit, it was at least twenty feet between the edge of the cliff and the water. But that wasn’t how you sold yourself to people. You had to look on the bright side.

Ben’s eyebrow flicks upwards in answer, sarcastic and silent all at once. Poe wonders, distantly, if anyone else has to have conversations with their boyfriend’s eyebrows, or if he was just lucky. ‘Lucky’. Heavy on the sarcasm there. 

“It’s one jump. I won’t make you do it again.” Poe was true to his word about that. With every hike and every cliff dive, and every octopus tentacle on a plate or slimy oyster in a shell, Poe’s request had only ever been: once. Try it once.

It was the same way his mom used to do to him when he was a kid. ‘You try this once, and if you don’t like it, that’s just fine. But you have to try new things out in the world, mijo.’ When he was really little, Poe knows he gave his mom hell about it. Little kids are made for comfort and routine. They wanted things to be the same all the time. But his mom, she was a stubborn woman. A smart one too. Because over time, Poe came around to almost all of it. It made him adventurous, once he was old enough to get brave all on his own.

And Ben needed that too. He needed time to get brave all on his own. Because as much as Ben wanted to pretend like he was buttoned up and calm, there was an adrenaline junkie hiding beneath the skin. Poe had found him by accident, a few too many drunken kisses behind Peter and Eddie’s bar turning into hands inside of pants in a back alley while pedestrians walked down the street a few feet away. 

Now he wanted to nourish that adrenaline junkie, to show Ben all the fun you could have if you just swallowed down your fear and kept moving forward. And hell, the fear could be part of the fun if you looked at things the right way.

Because it was never about not being afraid. Everyone was scared sometimes, and Poe would like to punch the guy in the mouth who taught Ben Solo that men weren’t supposed to be afraid. That they weren’t supposed to cry. That he had to be stoic and quiet at all times. 

There was way too much inside of Ben to settle for being stoic. He deserved better than that, and Poe was going to be the one who gave the world to him on a damn silver platter. He just had to get him off of the ledge first. Baby steps.

“Listen, I’m nervous too. It’s a long way down. My heart is going a mile a minute. Feel it.” Poe reaches out, taking one of Ben’s big hands and bringing it to his chest so that his boyfriend could feel the rapid fire beating of his heart beneath the cage of muscle and bone. Up close like this, Poe could count each and every one of Ben’s eyelashes. If he wasn’t in a hurry to get down in the water, he would stay here as long as it took to do so.

“But that’s okay. It’s okay to be nervous. It’s okay to be scared.” Ben still manages to look a little bit surprised every time that Poe says that. But he was going to beat it into that pretty head of his until it became the norm. There was nothing wrong with being afraid. “That’s your body going ‘hey pal, this seems kinda shady. Are we sure we want to do this?” Ben huffs a laugh under his breath, and makes no effort to pull away. 

“The thing is, the body doesn’t know what our head knows, now does it?” Poe inclines his head towards the water. “This is a safe spot. This is an allowed diving spot. There’s signs up by the legs and everything. Which means people have come through here and looked for sharp rocks and made sure that we weren’t going to hit anything on the way down. So in times like these, we respect our bodies for looking out for us, but we also respectfully disagree.”

Ben is watching him like there isn’t anything else in the world that matters, and Poe wants it to stay like that forever. It’s why he talks so damn much. Poe Dameron has always been a talker, he’s gotten himself out of more than a few tough scrapes with just his words, but when it gets him Ben’s undivided attention, he starts tacking on extra thoughts and extra words to fill in the blank and keep those pretty eyes on him. 

“We can jump together. We’ll hold hands and everything.” Ben scoffs, but instinctively his eyes trip down to the hand still splayed against the tan skin of Poe’s chest. He wants to, he’s just fighting against some old thought or hang up that was keeping his feet on the ground.

Fuck toxic masculinity. 

“I’m serious. I want to jump holding your hand. And it doesn’t make me less of a man for wanting to do it.” Poe’s chin juts out, defiance written across every line of his face. He doesn’t even know if this is what the hold up is in Ben’s head, but he’s already on the wind up, so the words were coming out. Sorry Ben.

“If anything, it makes me more of a man. Because I’m man enough to say when I need something and right now, I need my boyfriend to hold my hand and jump off a cliff with me.” And as his little spiel winds down, Poe’s disdain and his anger shift like the breeze changing direction and he grins. “We’re not going to Thelma and Louise it, Ben. We’re just jumping into the ocean so we can swim.”

And just to round out all his options, Poe steps in close against the hand on his chest until Ben’s arm bends at the elbow and he’s able to step in closer, to put them practically chest to chest. (Even Poe has to admit they haven’t been eye to eye or nose to nose since tenth grade. Stupid Solo growth spurt.)

“Just think of how much fun we can have in that water, babe. You and me and nobody else close enough to see what my hands are doing under the water.”

Would Poe actually try getting Ben off underneath the waves in the ocean? Absolutely, if Ben showed even the slightest inclination that he wanted it. And given the way Ben’s tongue had just darted out to wet his bottom lip, Poe was pretty sure that he had him on the hook. 

Now just to get him over the ledge.

There’s a dark glint in Ben’s eyes that Poe is crazy freaking in love with. His boy had a dark side, Poe just had to get it to come to the surface sometimes. “So? What do you say? It’s an adventure. All you have to do is take that leap.”

Ben shakes his head, a strand of dark hair spilling across his forehead. “Everything is an adventure to you.” See, Poe knows how to read Ben. And his mouth might be saying ‘Poe, you’re a dumbass’ but his eyes were saying ‘I want to do this too’. 

“So!” Poe finally steps back away from Ben, and with a half glance behind him, perilously close to the edge. He throws his arms out wide, and hears the sound of a pebble skitter off of the side of the cliff. Poe knows he really can’t hear it hit the water, but his brain decides he can hear the weighty thump of it hitting the waves.. “What good is living life if you don’t have any adventures. What are we going to tell our grandkids about, Ben?”

Yeah, so he’s pushing it there. Maybe one day Ben would decide he wanted to settle down, to really settle down and do the whole boring office job and a wife with two point five kids and a dog. But Poe is banking (hoping) that it isn’t the case, and that he’ll have Ben with him until they’re old and grey. 

Who said you couldn’t have adventures with kids? His mom and dad used to take him hiking and swimming and kayaking all the time when he was a kid, and Poe loved every damn second of it. He loved waking up in a tent to the smell of coffee over the fire and the soft sound of his parents talking quietly. 

He wanted to give kids of his own that same kind of life, one of these days. A life where they knew they were loved, and that they were safe even when the world wasn’t always safe. That they could be brave and reach out and try things and still know that at the end of the day, their family had their back.

Not any time soon, but one of these days. 

“Poe…” There’s a warning in Ben’s voice, and he’s got a hand outstretched, like he could tug on some invisible cord and get Poe away from the ledge. Tough luck, pal. You were going to have to come and get him. 

“What? You too scared to come and get me?” Listen, Poe lives a spaghetti at the wall kind of life. And he was just going to keep throwing things at Ben until something stuck and they were in that crystal clear water beneath them. Seriously, the rocks were starting to burn the bottom of Poe’s feet. It was hot out here. 

“Are you…” He sees the second Ben catches on to what he’s about to do, and Poe even hears the mumbled ‘don’t you dare’ before he starts clucking like a chicken. And Poe goes all in on it too, tucking his hands up against his armpits and flapping his “wings”. “Bock bock!”

Who knew that in a stream of care, and constructive criticism and even a commentary on the state of masculinity in the world, that it would be good old fashioned childish insults that got Ben to move. 

Poe has just enough time to think ‘victory!’ before that big, broad shouldered body connects with him and they go hurtling off of the edge of the cliff, Poe whooping the entire way down. The water feels solid for a moment before they break through and cold rushes around him, bright and bracing. 

He finds his bearings, kicking his feet to make his way back to the surface, shaking the hair out of his eyes like a dog. Ben isn’t far behind, sputtering and laughing all at the same time. Ben’s smile had the same effect on Poe’s stomach as jumping off of a cliff. 

A real nice swooping. 

“See?” He’s going to be smug now, Ben. No two ways about it. “I told you it would be fun.”

[duker42]

Your writing is amazing! Thank you for your hard work! I’d like to request smut bc I’m a Levi whore lol. I have a kink for wall sex and dirty talk so anything with that would be fantastic!

Wall Sex is the best Sex!!!

*****WARNING*****NSFW

💜The Wall💜

The stones of the wall were cold and rough against her back. Scraping against her skin with every movement.

“Fuck....you feel so good.” Levi panted as he pushed against her again. “You love being taken against a wall, don’t you?”

Y/N groaned as she kissed his neck. Her hands were around his neck, scratching at the back of his head and shoulders as he filled her again.

“You love being my little slut, don’t you? Spreading those thighs and letting me fill your pussy with my cum.” He breathed as continued to move his hips against hers. His cock driving deep into her body to slam against her cervix.

It had started with her teasing him. She had known exactly what she was doing as she had bent over provocatively while stretching and loosening up for sparing. Knew that his grey eyes were firmly locked onto her ass as she moved.

Then she had flirted with the others, a saucy grin to Eld and lingering over Gunther when she had pinned him. He wasn’t normally jealous, but he got rilled up over her. Especially if they hadn’t fucked in a few days.

It had ended when she was sparring with him. She had been under him, flushed and breathing hard, his mind focused on how she looked during other activities that didn’t involve clothing. Where she was breathing his name in his ear as he felt her quake around him. He had gotten hard, and when she felt it she had given him a knowing grin.

When he had finally gotten the rest of the squad sent off to clean up, he ordered her to his room. He would have dragged her there or tossed her over his shoulder if it wouldn’t have caused people to stare.

When they had reached the door to his office, he hadn’t moved through to the bedroom. Instead turned around and attacked her right there. He had stripped her faster than she could have imagined, his hands working as quickly as they did in combat.

Himself, he just took of his jacket and shirt and pushed his pants down to his knees. His cock was hard and ready for her as he pulled her up and held her against the door by her ass. She was going to have bruises from his hands, but she loved every mark on her skin from his rough treatment.

He hadn’t seen if she was ready, knowing that she would be as he pushed himself into her with a single hard thrust. Her moan was music to his ears, her legs wrapped around his lean waist as she got ready for him to fuck her senseless.

“Tighten around my cock, that’s it. Fuuuuuuck. Just like that.” He felt her clench around him, those tight muscles of hers drawing him deeper as they flexed. She responded so well to him and him to her.

“Ah...L-Levi, I’m g-gonna c-cum!” She panted out a word with each hard slam of her body against the wall, feeling his cock punch against her g-spot every time.

“Cum then, you know you want to. Cum all over my cock and scream my name.” He wanted it, wanted the sounds, wanted the feeling of her unraveling around him. Wanted the squad to hear how good it felt for her.

Her stomach started knotting up, tightening as she felt her orgasm start to build. She was moving her hips as much as he would allow, his strength keeping her pinned tightly against the now warm stone. It was like a bow being pulled tight, it was about to release and the wave of euphoria would wash over her.

Levi gritted his teeth as he felt her start to tremble around him. Only a bit more and he would get what he wanted. Her voice trying to deafen him as her pussy tried to milk him dry. He pushed her hips down as he scooped his hips up harder against him.

“Cum, right now, cum for me.” His voice was harsh with desire, demanding in his authority.

It was all she needed. She felt the white hot energy pour through her body as the tidal wave of pleasure pulled her under. Her entire body seized up, her walls tightening around him so hard he grunted at the feeling.

She felt her release, the rush of hot liquid pouring through her passage to splash over his still moving cock. His name was shouted, her hands feeling like they were going to break as she dug them into the hard muscles of his shoulders. “LEVI!”

“Fuck!” He said lowly, shuddering as he came to his own end. He was always quieter, but his release no less intense as he pushed as deep as he could get into her.

He held his breath when he came, his pulsing cock shooting jet after jet of cum into her body as he held still, his body jerking of its own accord. When he was done, his head rested against her shoulder as he released the breath and tried to blink the black dots in his vision away.

He lowered her to the ground, giving a small grunt as her legs buckled slightly and held on to her waist until she found her footing. He brushed his fingers across the raw scrapes the stone had put on her bock. He would have to wash those carefully. His body was relaxed and completely drained as they made their way into the bathroom to shower. Sex against the wall always made them weak with pleasure.

Mobile MasterList

[scullymakesmefeelautopsyturvy]

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

Chapter One here.

Irresistible (Season Two)

They stood pressed against one another in the foyer of Donnie Pfaster’s mother’s house in Minneapolis, Mulder holding her head, a steadying hand on her upper back as she cried her terror and relief into his chest, finally letting go.

The handcut Swiss voile table runner Pfaster had used to gag her was still tied at the back of Scully’s neck as Mulder rested his lips against her bloodied, tangled hair and softly assured her things were all right. 

They weren’t all right, they weren’t all right at all. They were so far from all right she didn’t know how to process it, and could only cling to him in her effort to remain upright, and present: to remain real, somehow. 

A part of her was glad her father had not lived to hear about this. She couldn’t have faced telling him; couldn’t have met his eyes, knowing that he knew. She had broken his heart by veering from a career in medicine to work at the FBI, but she’d always felt certain in her conviction that she was still following the path he’d foreseen for her: to use her skills and her training to help those in need.

Yet here she was, entrusted to protect others from the predators of the world, and she just seemed to keep falling victim to them.

She had disappointed her father, and now she had failed herself.

She attempted to calm down with the technique Dr. Kosseff had outlined, closing her eyes and noting what her senses could detect in the room around her, rooting herself in her environment. 

What she could hear: Pfaster being cuffed and read his Miranda rights; that was no help. 

What she could smell: Mulder’s laundry detergent, the salty, sea-air tang of his deodorant, the earthen aroma beneath it that was all him. She sucked it in through her nose, filling her lungs with the scent of him between heaving sobs. That was better. 

What she could feel: the full body press of his every contour against her aching, bruised form. The safe, scratchy cavern of his shoulder, where her stricken face was hidden from the gaze of the local field agents; his muscled arms, hesitantly encircling her; his ribs, crushing her breasts painfully as she clutched him tight; and his manhood, making lengthy, innocent contact with the soft swell of her stomach. That was… confusing at this time.

She took in a deep breath, the flow of her tears stemmed for now, and patted Mulder’s back in thanks, stepping away. He watched from a close, anxious distance as she untied the makeshift gag and ran her fingers through her hair, averting her eyes from any and all inquiries as to her health and wellbeing as she waved off medical attention.

“I’m fine. I just want to go to the motel,” she insisted, in a quiet voice.

Agent Bocks drove them back, Mulder silently riding up front, Scully pressing herself into the corner of the back seat against the door, her hands folded in her lap as she vehemently admonished any teardrops that dared to appear in the corners of her eyes. At a stoplight, the driver behind braked a little late, and she snapped her head back, bracing for an impact that never came. 

A female agent had retrieved her bag from the trunk of her wrecked Lariat rental, and it awaited her in her room.

She turned on all the lights.

In the bathroom, Scully peeled off her dusty, bloodstained clothes and dropped them to the floor, hanging her red satin robe on the hook at the back of the door. She inspected herself in the mirror, fingering the abrasion on her chin, the contusion above her right eyebrow. There were angry stripes on her wrists and ankles from where they’d been roughly tied. There were too many cuts to count. Purpling weals were beginning to marble the pale skin of her hips, knees and arms. Her back too, probably: the raised welts a catalogue of every individual violent contact made with walls, stairs, floors. She felt each blow anew as her hands explored the injuries.

As she began to draw the bath, the sound of the cascading water sent her mind reeling to the image of Pfaster falling backwards into the tub. She saw him collapsing over and over until she wrenched off the faucet. The final few droplets fell from the chrome-plated plumbing, and as she looked down onto the settling surface she saw herself submerged below the waterline: lifeless, immersed in billowing scarlet seeping from severed veins. 

She had to get back on this aqueous horse without delay. Baths were her respite, her lone sanctioned self-indulgence: scalding, frothy, synthetic-scented Elysium. Dana Scully did not shop ‘til she dropped. She rarely imbibed more than a single glass of wine. She hadn’t smoked a single cigarette since completing her undergraduate thesis. She had been averting her eyes from lingering, suggestive gazes since Quantico. She would absolutely, resolutely, categorically not allow Donnie Pfaster to ruin baths for her.

She made sure her gun was within reach, resting atop the cistern.

Climbing into the bubbleless water, she laid back against the tub, her eyes wide open. She listened to the room. The faucet dripped every few seconds. The shaving light above the mirror buzzed. A clock mounted over the TV in the bedroom counted passing seconds. God knew what time it was. She risked a few long blinks.

Behind her eyelids, she saw white. A bright light. A gurney. Her own abdomen; distended, illuminated, invaded. Images so familiar, of which she could make no sense. It looked like a dream. 

It felt like a nightmare.

Like the other nightmares that shocked her awake at all hours, gasping and sweating and reaching for her weapon on the nightstand: Eugene Tooms squeezing through her hallway air duct; Duane Barry silhouetted outside her bay window; darkness, and the insistent droning whir of helicopter blades.

She sank beneath the water to soak her hair.

She washed herself; then, when the temperature began to drop, dragged her body up and out of the bath, gingerly drying off, dabbing rather than rubbing at the sore spots, which were legion. The plughole gurgled as the last of the bathtub contents spiralled away, and she shrugged her robe over her shoulders, tucking her SIG-Sauer, still in its hip holster, into the pocket.

She walked towards the bed and was about to dig her pajamas out of the open suitcase when she heard the noise behind her. A rustle of some sort. A breath, or a shuffle, maybe. She grabbed for the gun as she spun around, unclipping the holster and flinging it away from her. Safety off, she held both her arms ramrod straight and aimed for the bathroom. Her heart pounded, the only noise she could now hear the thumping of her own blood in her ears. She didn’t wait around to see if there was something else she might be missing, but backed out of the room, sidestepping the bed. Once outside, she slammed the door shut with excessive force and screamed.

Long. Livid. Loud. Not a scream of fear, but of abject fury.  

She knew there was no one in that room. She was simply on edge, her body reliving her panic, her mind re-experiencing her abduction. Abductions. She didn’t need to wait another few months to know these Pfaster flashbacks weren’t just going to disappear. 

Goddammit. 

How would she ever escape this hell when it lived inside of her?

A body has a story to tell. 

Would her own body be telling her this same story for the rest of her life, returning to the beginning at every unexplained noise, every unexpected knock, every headlight in the rearview?

She screamed again, raging against the closed door, slamming her gun-toting fist into it.

Fuck. Another bruise she’d have to nurse. And no one else to blame for this one.

“Scully?” came a quiet voice from her left. Mulder was standing outside his open motel room door, clad only in T-shirt and boxers, holding a toothbrush in his right hand. A curtain twitched across the courtyard.

“I locked myself out,” she said, just now realizing it was true, and huffing the statement through gritted teeth, as though it were the worst thing to happen to her that day. She brought her left fist to the door and thumped the side of it into the flimsy but unyielding wood for emphasis, and because she was still indescribably irritated by her overreaction.

Mulder stepped away from his door, making room for her to pass. “Scully, get in here,” he said, sounding annoyed. She glared at him, but let her shoulders drop in defeat, and obeyed.

Inside his room, she put the safety back on her handgun and left the weapon sitting on a chair. She stalked over to the empty desk and stared at herself in the mirror. The only light came from a bedside lamp.

“Are you okay?” Mulder asked, closing the door and audibly locking it.

She caught his gaze in the reflection and rolled her eyes. “Mulder, I’m-”

“Fine, yeah, I know. I thought that’s probably why you were pistol whipping your motel room door in the middle of the night. Because you were fine.” His face was stony.

She scoffed at him, pushing out her chin in vexation.

He walked towards her, dropping the toothbrush onto a small table, posture and voice both softening. “Talk to me, Scully. You can trust me. Don’t you know by now that you can trust me?” 

“I don’t want to talk,” she said, looking down at her knuckles, regarding her fingers spread out on the table top. Fingers that Donnie Pfaster had wanted to disarticulate with rusted gardening shears and keep in his freezer next to his peas and carrots. She balled her hands into tight fists, and pressed her lips together, hard.

“What do you want, then, Scully?” he asked, his eyes searching hers in the mirror.

She studied her reflection. Wet hair and red robe. This wasn’t the first time she’d stood before him in a motel room like this. She thought about what she’d wanted, even then.

She didn't want to be paralyzed by fear anymore. She didn’t want to have to be protected. She wanted to protect herself. She wanted to rid herself of the traumas that resided within her body. She wanted to be her own kind of Persephone: ride into the underworld of her own volition, driving her own chariot, and emerge triumphant. 

She wanted to rewrite this story, to start it when she chose to, take it where she liked, control it and end it; end it for good. 

Mulder was behind her. He was right behind her, only inches from her skin, which was bare beneath the flimsy robe.

“I want you to touch me, Mulder,” she stated, loud and clear, holding his gaze.

He tenderly reached out and rested his palm on her shoulder, his eyes worried. Kind.

That wouldn’t do at all.

“No,” she said, still staring at him in the reflection. “I want you to-“

Like he did.

“I want you to grab me.”

A look of horror washed over Mulder’s features.

“No,” he said, aghast. He withdrew his hand, rubbing it over his rough stubble.

“Mulder,” she said, low and deliberate, shifting her hips so that the scarlet satin of the robe grazed over the curves of her ass, pushing out her chest so that her nipples brushed the fabric, visibly rippling the front of the garment. “I need this.”

She watched him watch her in the mirror, his pupils enlarged in the gloom. He razed his eyes over the hills and valleys of her figure, then looked away.

“Scully,” he pleaded.

“You said you could always use my help, Mulder. Now I’m asking you for yours.” She steadied herself against the desk with her hands once again. “I need to do this, on my own terms. If I need to find someone else, I’m sure I can. But Mulder,” she paused, making sure he met her gaze in the mirror once again. “You’re the only one I trust.”

Mulder stood, motionless. “I’m not certain what you’re asking of me, Scully,” he murmured.

Scully let her tense muscles ease a little. “Come here,” she instructed, softly, turning around to face him. She reached out her hand, and he took it.

Scully sat herself on the edge of the desk, her knees spread. The fabric of the robe draped over her inner thighs. A minute shift one way or the other would expose her to him completely. She pulled him towards her, tugging him close until his face was directly opposite her own, their fingers entwined, resting on her knee. 

She kissed him. His lips were soft, his cheeks scratchy, and he didn’t stop her, but he didn’t give himself to her fully, either. She pulled away.

“What’s the matter, Mulder?”

“Scully,” he whispered. “I don’t - you’re not yourself.”

She sighed, taking his face in her palms. She realized she was shaking. She levelled her gaze with his. “Mulder,” she began. “That man, his crimes, I’ve never felt anything like this. I need you to bring me back to myself.” She moved her hands, resting them on his shoulders. “I want to feel human again.” She searched his eyes, silently reassuring him this was okay. “That’s what I’m asking, Mulder. Stop looking at me like that, and show me that I’m more than just his victim.”

Mulder blinked, long and hard, and this time, he kissed her. Not gently, not tenderly, but with purpose, intent. He opened his mouth to hers, and she rolled her tongue against his, powerfully, without fear or shame.

She tucked her arms beneath his, reaching up with one hand and pushing her fingers into the base of his hairline. With the other, she tugged on the fabric of his shirt at his lower back, feathering the pads of her fingertips against the skin that emerged beneath. They were still kissing, hard, and Mulder took hold of her firmly around the ribs. She gasped, half in pleasure and half in pain, as the heel of his hand dug into one of the bruises she’d examined in the bathroom earlier. 

He immediately broke off their kiss, pulling back to gauge her reaction.

“Don’t stop,” she panted. “That means I like it.”

He resumed his kissing, but this time against the side of her neck, one hand falling to her left hip, the other trailing up to cover her breast through the robe. A shock of desire ran through her body right to her core, the first she’d felt tonight. This had been mechanical before; a means to an end. She’d had herself half convinced this carnal, obliterative odyssey could be undertaken with just about anyone. It was only now she remembered how much - how often - she wanted this man, specifically. 

She turned her face towards his, compelling his lips to return to her own. He complied, his breath sweet and sharp from the recent brushing, and she willingly swallowed his pomegranate kisses, hoping she could return to them in better times: harvest the unmarred fruit of their evident mutual attraction, so ripe with possibility. Not this sour, infested imitation, spoiled, and rotting from within. 

She tried not to think about the differences between this encounter and the tender romance she’d previously imagined when daring to envision their sexual union. It would still be him. His body, inside hers. Carrying her away from herself, dragging her beneath the earth with the frantic merging of hot, sticky flesh, freeing her, and making her anew.   

She fumbled at the rear waistband of his boxers and delved her flat palms inside, grabbing hard fistfuls of his smooth cheeks, pulling him towards her. She inched forwards on the desk, her robe parting beneath the tie at her waist and falling away at the crease of her thighs. His sex rubbed against her own through the cotton of his underwear, and she tilted her hips to gain purchase, to feel the full, swelling effect of his desire against hers.

Mulder clamped his lips down more insistently upon hers, his hands pushing into her wet hair, thumbing her earlobes, pulling her jaw up towards him. His chest pressed against her breasts, and she lifted his T-shirt at the hem. They broke contact only so that he could pull it off over his head. 

When he returned his mouth to hers, Scully shoved her hand down the front of his underwear and wrapped it around his now fully hard cock. She ran her thumb over the already oozing tip, and Mulder jumped in her grasp, moaning into her mouth.

She tore her face from his, breathless. She held him in her palm, pulsating granite.

“Protection?” she asked, and he reluctantly extricated himself from her grasp, walking over to the nightstand and opening his wallet. 

After a few seconds he held up the square plastic packet, a look of immense relief on his face. “Thank god,” he grinned, and she returned the sentiment with a smile of her own.

He walked back towards her, slow and steady, his gaze assured. Arriving at the space between her knees again, he pushed his boxers down his legs and discarded them to one side. Scully took a long look at him now. Good god, he was enormous. This was going to be perfect. 

He tore open the wrapper and rolled the condom down onto himself using both hands, then reached to untie the knot at Scully’s waist. She stopped him, shaking her head. “Like this,” she said, pushing the robe open even wider over her thighs so that Mulder could get his own unobstructed view. She reached for his hand once again, and deliberately maneuvered it between her legs, where he ran two fingers between her drenched labia. 

She turned her mouth to murmur into his ear. “I’m ready, Mulder,” she instructed, and pulled him forward by the waist. 

She heard him grunt as his sheathed tip bumped against her upper leg, and she spread her knees even further to give him better access. She felt him reach down between their bodies to guide himself into her, and steeled herself for the pain. 

She wanted the pain.

It had been a while for her, almost three years since she’d been penetrated by anything larger than a tampon or her own two forefingers, and Mulder’s girth was considerable. He stretched her inner muscles inch by glorious inch as he eased himself into her body. Her breath caught at the back of her throat as she tried to relax herself around him. He took it easy, but she wished he wouldn’t. 

“More Mulder,” she pleaded, “I can take it.”

He grasped her by the hips, and she leaned her head back into the mirror, looking down to see him pull himself out of her a fraction before driving back in, slowly, all the way to the hilt. She felt the soft, peach-fuzz pressure of his balls against her body, and the ache in her center deepened.  

“That’s good Mulder,” she encouraged. “That feels good. Now, hard. I want it hard.”

His head shot up to question her; he opened his mouth to argue.

“I said hard,” she demanded, grabbing for his ass to guide him as deep as he could go. “Please.” 

He seemed to relent now, because he began to pump into her, forcefully. He placed one hand against the mirror for support, and held the small of her back with the other. She crossed her ankles behind him and relished the feel of him creating new bruises, her shoulder blades pressing sharply into the glass. 

Mulder was working hard, building up a sweat, and she kissed his forearm where it swept up past her face, biting his briny flesh between her teeth in her sweet agony. “More,” she said, scraping her nails across his flexing glutes. “Faster.”

Mulder’s jaw set with anger, or determination, she didn’t know which, but either way he increased his efforts, and her thighs burned where she held them up, her sex ached and clenched around him, and her head slammed into the mirror over and over. Yes, this was good.

Mulder, in an effort to shield her, moved his mirror hand behind her crown, cushioning the blows. No, no, that wasn’t what she was after: a lessening of the punishment.

 Another thrust, and her hair caught between his fingers, a shock of pain tugging at her temple. Well now, this could work.

“Mulder,” she panted, desperate now. She was close, so close to the relief she sought. “Pull my hair.”

He closed his eyes as he continued to fuck her, not willing to engage on this one.

“Dammit Mulder, I said pull it,” she insisted, digging her nails into the muscles of his rear, hard.

He reacted to the tearing of his flesh with a moan and a vicious thrust, clenching the damp strands in his hand and boring his now open eyes into hers. She looked up at him, her mouth agape, a single teardrop falling down one cheek and into her ear. He gripped tighter, pounding her harder, and she nodded.

“Yes Mulder,” she said. “Yes. Yes.”

His cock was driving into her, Charon’s oar plunging into the River Styx and stirring up the forbidden pleasures of her Catholic girlhood. He collided with her G-spot again and again, and she arched into him, pressing her clit into his abdomen as he grasped her hair and steadied her hip and stared her down, willing her to those dark shores. As soon as she began to climax, shaking and swearing and tilting her head back into his fist, Mulder came as well, his thighs tensing as he lifted her off the desk and gave her everything he had for the final few thrusts.

They were still afterwards, Mulder breathing heavily into the space between her ear and shoulder. After a while, he leaned backwards, sliding himself out of her and looking her in the eyes once again. Wordlessly, he reached for the knotted belt of the robe, and this time Scully allowed him. He loosened it, pulling the slick tie open, letting the garment fall open at her center. Scully swallowed hard.

He traced the lines of the robe down over her cleavage, and softly nudged the material apart, revealing her naked skin in a widening swath. The satin fell from her shoulders and down her arms, and she was fully visible to him now, her mottled skin marked at front and back, the bruises already several shades darker than they had been less than an hour ago in the mirror. They were coming out nicely now. 

Mulder dragged his eyes from injury to injury, his eyes reflecting the pain as though they were his own. He reached out to touch the discoloration on her ribs, where he had first grabbed her, but pulled away.

“Scully,” he rasped, and hung his head.

She closed her eyes for a moment, gathering her strength.

She dipped her head, seeking his gaze, and gently placed two fingers beneath his chin. She lifted his face until his eyes met her own, and watched as the tears began streaming down his cheeks.

She opened her arms, and he stepped forward, his chest hair rubbing against her naked torso, his wet face tucking into her warm neck.  

He shook with grief, and Scully steadied him with a hand on his lower back, delving her free hand into his hair once more. She kissed the side of his head.

“It’s all right, Mulder,” she whispered. “It’s all right.”

***

They eventually made it to Mulder’s bed for a few hours before their flight home, and reached an uneasy truce, her wrapped up in the robe once more, him spooning her, both of them sleeping fitfully. She heard a few unidentified noises, but didn’t reach for her gun. On the way to the airport, Mulder drove, and she watched the faces of other drivers in the rearview, but kept her panic at bay.

Waiting at a red light, Mulder broke the heavy silence.

“You know, last night-“ He cleared his throat. “Last night, I thought you called me Pfaster.”

She frowned at him. 

“Near the end,” he clarified. “You said: ‘More, Pfaster.’ I thought.”

“Oh my god,” she said, horrified. “I said ‘Faster’, with an F.”

“Well, that’s what I figured. Hoped.” he nodded.

“Mulder,” she said. “You thought I called you Pfaster, and you kept going?” She was incredulous.

Mulder shrugged, looking ahead at the traffic. “You seemed like you needed to work through something.”

She gulped, tears forming. He was entirely too good for her.

Pfaster.

She closed her eyes.

Her mind wandered to another of her tormentors: Luther Lee Boggs. She’d told him to his face she’d be happy to throw the switch and gas him out of this life for good if Mulder died as a consequence of Boggs’ actions. And she’d meant it. 

Donnie Pfaster was evil, pure evil, she was sure of it, but she knew she was fully capable of being monstrous too. She lay her palm across her weapon, nestled at her right hip, and imagined a different end to her stair-fall with Pfaster the night before. A few seconds more, and she might have been able to grab the gun and end it all, blast him directly between the eyes and send him straight back to hell, where he belonged. 

But then how would she be any different to him? What destination would be awaiting her at the end of her days?

She suspected it would help her nightmares in one way if she knew he were dead, if she asserted control over that herself, but that it would exacerbate them in another. 

She’d probably been wrong to make use of sweet, tender Mulder to try and exorcise her demons last night. Great as it had felt, she suspected she wasn’t out of the underworld just yet.

As they pulled into the Lindbergh terminal Lariat parking lot, returning to her most recent traumatic beginning, she reached out and gently squeezed Mulder’s knee. He placed his hand over her own, looking over to smile, gently. 

He saw the good in her; he always had. 

Maybe she could let him be her savior, follow his light and climb back out of Hades’ realm, reclaiming her faith in herself.

As Pfaster’s only living victim, she was going to have to be a witness. Perhaps this was her true opportunity to rewrite the story. Her own story. 

She would argue for leniency. She would ask the judge for life.

She was going to change the ending, after all. 

AO3 link here.

[greekowl87]

Really, this isn't an ask. It is a demand. A demand for the sex failure fic from my headcanon. While I take months and/or years to work on my fic, I expect better from everyone else. 😉

@90saolchatroom Trying to finish this drove me crazy and I hope I did it justice. I really, really hope you like it. :) I’d imagine this taking place during “Little Green Men” since some of the lines are from the ep. Sorry for any typos. Tagging @today-in-fic

Mulder and Scully were no longer partners. The higher ups made that perfectly clear.

It had been an odd dance during their brief partnership. She did not know who was leading who. The more she worked with him, Mulder left her feeling odd. There was something she could not quite name. He was obnoxious and endearing at the same time. He valued her opinion, treated her equally…called her Scully when everyone else called her Dana. By the time they shut down the basement office, they found themselves separated and isolated again. In Quantico, her only company was lab reports and the dead. She began to worry about her former partner. Was he okay? Why wouldn’t he reach out to her? When she saw him walking in the hallways and he didn’t reach out, she became worried. Had she become that invisible?

One thing she had learned from him was the cloak and dagger routine. That was how she finally got him to contact her beneath the hotel parking garage by the Watergate. He looked like he had not slept in days and her heartstrings pulled for her former partner. Mulder looked wildly at her and more desperate. She stilled him, catching his hand, as he tried to pace restlessly back and forth.

Mulder sighed. “It’s dangerous for us just to have a little chat, Scully. We must assume we’re being watched.”

“Mulder, I haven’t seen any indication…”

He shook his head. “No, no, of course not. These people are the best.”

What did she have to do to reach out to him? To connect with him. “I’ve taken all of the necessary precautions. I have doubled back over my tracks to make sure that I haven’t been followed and no one has ever followed me. The X-Files have been terminated, Mulder. We have been reassigned. I mean, what makes you think they care about us anymore anyway?”

“So why have you bothered to come here covertly?”

Really? Was he really that obtuse? “Because I realized that it was the only way that you would see me.”

He stared at her as if she had spoken some foreign language and gazed at her as if unsure of what to do. “So what do you want?”

“To know that you’re all right. Mulder, you passed me today within a foot, but you were miles away.”

He gave a hollow laugh.“They’ve got me on electronic surveillance. White-bread cases, bank fraud, insurance fraud, health care swindles.”

“Mulder, I know that you feel… frustrated that without the bureau’s resources, it’s impossible for you to continue…”

“No, it…”

“Well, what then? When the bureau first shut us down, you said that you would go on for as long as the truth was out there. But I no longer feel that from you.”

“What should you feel then, Scully?”

“I don’t know, Mulder. Something. Anything. You believe I am still a spy sent to debunk your work?”

“No. I haven’t believed that since we got back from Bellefleur,” he told her. He squatted against the wall in defeat. “You aren’t a spy.”

She felt that snap of electricity again since she first realized what it was on the way back from back to Bellefleur. Tentatively, she reached out and touched his forearm. The touch went unnoticed and feeling still annoyed about him ignoring her earlier that day, she squeezed his forearm, instantly drawing his attention. As if sensing the shift in the parking garage, he licked his lips as if trying to form a word.

“Stop acting like you are all by yourself on this, Mulder.”

“I feel like a fool, Scully. Crazy Spooky Mulder screaming at the sky with no one listening.”

Scully sat back on her heels and took his hand. “Let’s go somewhere tonight. You come with me and we have fun. You look like you could use a drink.”

“I don’t want a drink, Scully. I don’t want to do anything…”

“One drink won’t kill you.”

She dragged him to his feet. “And you can tell me more about how you enjoy screaming at the sky…”

Mulder let her drag him to his feet like a broken toy and she wrapped her arm around his waist and he looked at her surprised at the gesture. “Sorry,” she whispered. Her cheeks were flushed.

He eyes looked at her tenderly and he wiped a stray lock from her cheek. “It’s fine.”

Reluctantly and almost awkwardly, she let her arm drop. “Besides, if they were watching us now,” she continued, trying to justify her excuse to go out, “a dive bar will be the last place they would think of.”

“It’s okay, Scully. I agreed.” He was quiet as they walked. They exited out of the parking garage and onto the streets of D.C. They walked together in silence, closely as if personal space had no meaning, and into one of D.C.’s less reputable bars. “It is nice to see you as well, Scully,” he added as an afterthought.

She gave a weak smile in response.

They navigated to a booth in the back of the room. A cocktail waitress took their order and brought two Shiner Bocks. Mulder shed his trenchcoat and pulled loose his tie. Scully took off her own jacket and sat stiffly on the leather bench. He stretched and threw his arms on the back of the booth, his left hand precariously close to her shoulder. She could feel the tips of his fingers grazing the edge of her jacket. The physical closeness still unnerved her but Scully had grown used to it, however, tonight felt different.

“Even though we have both established I am not a spy and the office is shut down doesn’t mean you have to go live in exile, Mulder.” She sipped her beer tentatively. “You still have a friend.”

“That’s touching, Scully,” he scoffed. “Where did they send after they shut me down?”

“I think you mean us, Mulder,” she mumbled. She cleared her throat. “Back to Quantico.”

“Back to Quantico,” he repeated. “And where did they send me?”

Scully remained quiet. She knew they stuck him in a new hole to transcribe countless hours of audio tape as punishment. No one wanted anything to do with Spooky Mulder except her. “Well,” she started, trying to break the tension, “at least you are saving on rent.”

Mulder narrowed his eyes and she swallowed another swig of beer, uncertain of his reaction before he chuckled and rolled his eyes. She saw the tension and stress from the past few days washed away as he slouched further back in the booth. “I don’t know, Scully. I still miss the cattle mutilation slides.” He licked his lips as his hazel eyes flicked over her. “And the company.”

“I agree with the company. I could do without the cattle slides. I do miss whatever it is we do when we talk.”

“Verbal sparring?”

“Something like that. It’s good to see you, Mulder.”

“You too, Scully.”

“I could say the same.”

Hours crawled slowly by but to Mulder and Scully, aided by the beers, time seemed to fly. By then, Mulder’s arm had found itself around her shoulders and she noticed how comfortable she was sitting beside him, barely touching. Scully hiccupped and looked at her watch. “I…I should get going.”

“You are in no mood to drive tonight,” he declared.

“Mulder, I don’t need a chivalrous knight. I need a taxi. And a hot bath.”

“Just make me feel better. Come and spend a few hours at my apartment and sleep it off. Then you can get a taxi. I’ll even leave you money.”

She smiled indulgently, her fingers crawling up his arm flirtatiously. “What happened to they’re watching us? Electronic surveillance, Mulder.”

Mulder suddenly felt braver and smiled. “Must be all the cloak and dagger you started earlier tonight. Maybe you are a spy. Come on, Scully. Amuse me. We can even play truth or dare if you want.”

“No, Mulder.” She sighed and saw the pouting lips. How could she say no to that face? “Fine, but just for a few hours.”

He put a couple of 20 dollar bills on the table and the two former FBI agents left and disappeared into the night. She laughed at something he said. Mulder let his fingers lightly graze hers and to his utter surprise, she took it. Something was changing between them. As they arrived at his apartment, she shed her coat and sat on his worn leather couch. He followed behind her, taking off his suit jacket as well, and collapsed on the couch next to her.

Scully could feel the intensity of Mulder’s gaze to the point she started to blush. “What?”

He bent forward and pushed away a stray lock of red hair and kissed her neck slowly. She stiffened and he rubbed her thigh gently in an effort to get her to relax.

“Mulder, what are you doing?”

“Hm. Checking in on you. Returning the favor.”

Her body was betraying her as she felt something began to awaken. Despite the tension she felt, she did began to relax and focus on the Mulder’s soft lips. “Mulder, we shouldn’t…”

His kissing grew more insistent as she felt her own body take control and her brain and heart become spectators in what was happening. He leaned heavily against her so that she had to lay down onto the couch to accommodate him. His hands began to unbutton her suit jacket and blouse. His rough fingertips felt the soft fabric of her bra and she drew in a sharp breath.

“Scully, you smell divine,” he murmured.

“Mulder,” she tried again.

He kissed her deeply, silencing any protests that she may have. Again, her body had forsaken her as she ran her fingers through Mulder’s hair and deepened the kiss. What was it about him? She knew that the electricity and chemistry between them had existed but she never thought it could lead to this point. For as second, she panicked and worried about Bureau protocol and any implications it could have.

“Who is gonna care,” he murmured. He tenderly kissed on the breast while his free hand palmed the other. “We don’t work together anymore.”

As she helped him get rid of her blouse, her own hands began to pull at his own dress shirt as her brain began to reply what he had just said. Who is gonna care, he had taunted, We don’t work together anymore. Taunted? Mulder didn’t taunt. He would not consider her some one night stand. If he was proceeding this, with her consent, it meant some more. Or did it? Her mind had blacked out for a second because the next thing she knew was that he was desperately tearing at a condom wrapper with his teeth in a rushed effort to tear it off and here she was, half naked on his leather couch about to get it. She should be happy. Joyous even because she had heard the rumors and how attractive the vast majority of female agents and sectaries found Mulder.

“Scully,” he breathed with the foil between his teeth, “a little help? Lift your hips.”

A ringing telephone interrupted them as both stared quietly as it went to the answering machine. “Mmmm…Marty, it’s Veronica,” a sultry voice crackled against the heavy air. “It’s been awhile. I miss you and uh, our lovely chats at little green men…”

Mulder reached up and ripped the phone off the hook and stared at Scully. “Scully, it’s not what you think.”

At this point, her mind having finally caught up with her body, she buttoned her blouse and began to gather her things. “It’s none of my business, Mulder,” she said slowly, lowering her gaze, “with what you do with your, uh, spare time.”

“Scully.” Her lowered gaze made him suddenly feel like an ass. What the hell had he been thinking? “Sure. Fine. Whatever. Be that way.”

“It’s clear we are probably meant to be just…”

“Work acquaintances,” he fished. “Got it.”

“No. No, Mulder. Friends. Maybe. One day.”

“We are…” He groaned in frustration. “We are friends, Scully. We are…”

“Just friends. I get it, Mulder. I get it.” She took a deep breath and gathered her trench coat. “Just the type of friends that hang out for a beer maybe or call on if you need an autopsy or follow on wild goose chases. I get it. I’m there if you need something. My mistake.”

“Scully, let me explain. Veronica, she…I have never even met her in person!”

She shook her head, already embarrassed enough. It was clear this would have been nothing than a one night stand between them. “Let’s just pretend this never happened, okay? We can still be work friends or whatever. Don’t be a stranger, Mulder.”

“Are you that blind? Scully, this is a misunderstanding!”

“Good night, Mulder.”

She gathered her jacket and slipped out the apartment door and into the night, vowing if what had just happened had not destroyed their relationship, she would still try to salvage any semblance of a partnership by pretending this night never happened. If he wanted a friend, she would be his friend and chase him to whatever he went because that is what she would do for her friends.

[john-cardoza]

One Last Adventure

I’m here to contribute to the Tuck fandom! Tuck everlasting is great, go listen to it if you haven’t.

Winnie dashed out the front door as soon as possible, today was her seventeenth birthday and her mother had refused to let her leave the house until they had celebrated, that was seven hours ago. She ran through the woods to the tree she had climbed when she first met Jesse. After the event six years ago Winnie decided to get to know the woods she had lived next to her whole life, sneaking out wasn't preferable but her mother didn't rethink her rules especially not when Winnie got "kidnapped". She hoped she wouldn't run into Jesse, she had made her decision years ago. She wouldn't live forever she would just live.

Winnie finally found the tree she had climbed with the spring next to it.

Croak

She jumped and turning around to see that the frog she had given the water to was drinking from the spring. "Hey bud, how's immortality?" Winnie asked kneeling down to let the frog jump into her hands. "I haven't seen you since I fell out of that tree and you jumped onto my head" The frog looked unimpressed by her story.

Reeunk

"Rude" Winnie briefly debated that she was having a conversation with a frog but couldn't bring herself to care. Treegap was boring. She carefully lowered the frog back onto the ground letting it hop off her hands.

"STOP!"

Winnie jumped to her feet and spun around to block the spring from view. "Who's there?" Her eyes darted around the forest before landing on a figure running towards her. She squinted and took a step away from the spring. "Jesse?"

∞∞∞

Jesse had immediately booked it back to Treegap when he remembered that it was Winnie's seventeenth birthday. He had continued to travel the world, stopping in New York and Chicago before making his way back to Vermont where Miles had become a teacher. He had six years to think and he had come to the realization that he couldn't let Winnie stop her entire life. She was going to do amazing things, have kids and a life. He could find a different partner in crime, maybe he would track down that cat. He would make sure Winnie didn't drink from the spring and they could have one last day together before he moved, he was thinking Greenland, far away and cold.

He jumped off the train and started the long walk to the forest. He decided to go to the spring so he could get his bearings, maybe he would track down the old cabin. Ma and Pa moved away years ago, said something about Maine and left to get some peace and quiet. He made his way around the forest, stopping to watch a squirrel, or pet a random cat. When he got close he noticed a figure with familiar red hair and a blue dress kneeling by the spring.

"STOP!"

Winnie turned around "Who's there?" Jesse ran closer "Jesse!?"

"Hey..." Jesse stopped once he was closer

"You're back!" Winnie exclaimed racing forward to hug him "It is you right"

"Of course" Jesse promised, before he remembered why he was there "You can't drink from the spring"

Winnie nodded "I wasn't going to" She sighed "A life of adventure sounds amazing, but I want to just have a life"

"I am so happy to hear that" Jesse said pulling Winnie into a tighter hug "But I am also here to ask you a question"

"You aren't going to propose again, are you?" Winnie teased, sitting down on a rock and pulling Jesse down to sit next to her

"Okay, I admit that was weird. But it made the most sense at the time" Jesse admitted "Two teenagers traveling the world would attract less attention if they were married," He pointed out "And you didn't disagree"

Winnie rolled her eyes "I was eleven, I don't think I even want to know all the stupid things you did when you were eleven" Jesse shut his mouth confirming her suspicions that he had done some pretty stupid things.

"Fine but I actually did have a question" he reminded her "How would you feel about one last night of adventure, before you move on with your life and I move to Greenland"

"Why would you move to Greenland?" Winnie asked. Jesse opened his mouth but she cut him off "Never mind I don't want to know"

"Just answer the question" Jesse said "I hear the fair is in town"

Winnie smiled "Because that ended so well last time" She stood up next to Jesse "Lead the way"

Jesse smiled "I was hoping to stop by the old cabin, maybe we can find you some fair clothes"

"Perfect" Winnie started walking towards the cabin "You remember how to get there right?" She teased

Jesse stared at her for a second "Yes I do! It's that way," he said pointing into the woods. Winnie rolled her eyes and moved his hand over four inches. "It's that way" he corrected himself.

∞∞∞

"Wow, this place is in good shape" Jesse commented walking into his family's old cabin. Ma and Pa had moved out six years ago, and Jesse was expecting the cabin to be dusty and weathered, but it looked exactly the same as it did when he left, there was even cat food in the dish.

"That was me" Winnie admitted. She sat down on one of the kitchen chairs "I couldn't stay away, sometimes I stay here when my house feels like too much," A cat with furry white paws jumped on her lap and hissed at Jesse "I met your cat"

Jesse laughed "I was actually thinking about re-adopting the cat, but he seems to like you better" He reached out to pet the cat, but pulled away when the cat hissed at him "I'll go dig through the attic"

Winnie stood up disrupting the cat "I'll come with, I found some clothes that will fit me last time I was here"

They both ran upstairs and dug through separate drawers. Jesse dug out one of his favorite outfits that he had to leave behind, and Winnie dug out some clothes that looked similar to the fair clothes she wore last time except bigger. She was pretty sure they used to belong to Miles' wife but she wasn't sure and she had no one to ask.

∞∞∞

They both changed quickly and met out on the porch. Winnie was reminded of when Angus caught her and Jesse trying to leave the first time. "Hey Jesse, where did you parents and Miles go?" She asked realizing she had no idea

"Miles is teaching elementary schoolers in Vermont and I think Ma and Pa are somewhere in Maine" He guessed "You ready to go?" Jesse asked. He tried to put an arm around her shoulder but was disappointed to realize that in the last six years Winnie had gotten taller and now was three or four inches taller than him.

Winnie laughed "Sure thing shorty"

"Let's just go," Jesse pouted, "Maybe you can tell me what I missed?"

∞∞∞

"In conclusion I am no longer allowed within 20 feet of the Robinson's house because I was chasing your cat and ended up on their roof at 3am" Winnie finished. It was a long walk back into town and Winnie and Jesse were making the most of it, sharing stories and experiences. Jesse told her about all the places he saw while he was gone and Winnie told him how much trouble she had gotten into. They finally had reached the fair and it looked exactly the same as last time. Winnie turned Jesse so he was facing her and held his shoulders "What are we not going to do?"

Jesse rolled his eyes "We are not going to challenge creepy guys to guess my age," He recited "Is that really necessary"

Winnie nodded "Yes it is, now let's get cotton candy" She took of into the maze of bright lights and carnival sounds.

After a brief debate they decided to play a beanbag toss game. Jesse as it turned out had terrible aim, Winnie on the other hand had spent enough time stuck in her room that she had pretty good aim and a large dent in her wall from throwing various baseballs and rocks at the wall and catching them when they bounced back. She won and gave the stuffed tiger she won to Jesse. On the way to get cotton candy they were interrupted.

"Winnie!"

Winnie and Jesse spun around immediately on edge "Hugo?" Winnie asked, bocking Jesse from view when he got closer "What are you doing here?"

Hugo looked around "Uh-I'm checking out the fair, I didn't really get to see it very much last time" Jesse carefully stepped out from behind Winnie and Hugo's eyes widened "Oh-sorry I didn't realize you were with a friend"

"Jesse move!" Winnie whispered, trying to move Jesse out of Hugo's line of sight "He was there six years ago" Jesse's eyes widened in realization

"You look kind of familiar, what's your name?" Hugo asked

"Hi, I'm Jesse" He held out his hand and Hugo shook it "It's nice to meet you, but we really should go" Jesse said.

Winnie nodded "Bye Hugo" Winnie said pulling Jesse away. As soon as they were out of earshot she elbowed him "Why did you do that?"

Jesse shrugged, he had no idea why he introduced himself "He's cute?"

Winnie rolled her eyes "Yes, but that was not the point"

"Let's just enjoy the fair" Jesse said "I want cake"

They raced towards the cake booth, the awkward encounter forgotten.

∞∞∞

As the night winded down Winnie and Jesse made their way back to the old silo. They sat and watched the stars, bickering and yawning. It was 4am and Winnie knew she should be getting home. She had promised herself one night before she went back to her mother. Jesse was telling a story, apparently Miles was thinking about moving to France, something about learning the language? Jesse was mostly trying to fill the silence and not fall asleep.

Winnie leaned against his shoulder "I don't want this night to end"

Jesse nodded "That would be nice"

"But I need to go back, my mom will be worried" Winnie said, she stood up and held out a hand to Jesse.

Jesse took her hand and stood up next to her, "It was nice to see you"

Winnie smiled "One last adventure"

"One last adventure" Jesse repeated, he reached forward to hug Winnie "Thanks for being my partner in crime"

Winnie hugged back tightly "Goodbye Jesse Tuck"

"Goodbye Winnie Foster" Jesse watched Winnie climb down the silo and start the long walk home.

∞∞∞

7 years later

Jesse was planning to never come back to Treegap, at least for another hundred years. But when Mae and Angus decided to move back to their cabin for a few years and asked Jesse and Miles to visit he couldn't refuse. He passed carefully through town making sure no one saw him, but stopped when he saw a glimpse of bright red hair. He ducked behind a tree and watched sadly as Winnie walked down the aisle. Jesse looked closer and recognized Hugo at the end of the aisle. They both looked happy. Even though he was losing his partner in crime he was glad Winnie had found someone she could have a real life. He left to start the long walk back to the cabin.

∞∞∞

94 years later

"Winnie Foster-Jackson," Mae read off the headstone. The Tuck's had decided to make a trip back to Treegap, 94 years had passed it shouldn't have been a huge surprise that Winnie had passed. Jesse felt tears trailing down his face "Cherished wife, devoted mother, dearest grandmother..."

"Expert fisherman" Angus finished "I guess she lived the life we never could"

"May she rest in peace"

Jesse moved closer and kneeled down next to the headstone, he rested his hand on the headstone "I'll always wonder what you did with the water"

Reeunk

A frog jumped in front of Winnie's headstone and Jesse laughed when he realized it was the exact same frog Winnie had been talking to when she was seventeen. He carefully picked the frog up. "Want to be my partner in crime?"

Ribbit!

Jesse took that as yes and carefully helped the frog into his bag.

"You ready to go Jesse?" Miles asked.

Jesse looked around "Yeah, let's go" He took one last look around before following Miles. "Goodbye Treegap New Hampshire"

[matthewko28]

Stay the Way We Are / Chapter 5

Hetalia fanfiction, human AU, EstIce platonic

>>Chapter 1<<

>>Chapter 2<<

>>Chapter 3<<

>>Chapter 4<<

Chapter: 5/9

A/N: I changed the definition of their friendship mentioned in the previous chapters. Platonic is more accurate to describe their relationship but I didn’t know it until now, poor my vocab_(: _ㄥ)_

A LOT of setting in this chapter is for the plots purpose and please don’t mix it up with both Hetalia the original work and the real world.

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything mentioned in the story but the story itself!

Also on ff.net: it doesn’t show me the link so i’d post it later

and Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14756427/chapters/37563713

Emil soon regrets his decision the next morning. It’s not a normal time to get up, and Emil thinks it should be the reason he bumps on the furniture several times and makes a lot of noise. The sound is too annoying, even wakes Lukas up to warn him—he throws a pillow onto his younger brother. But there’s one thing Emil has to clarify that he’s not intend to provoke his brother again when he shuts the door accidently. He feels like he’s still not clear-headed enough when he rides his bike, so it’s impossible for him to behave like a brat just because he gets up early in the morning. Emil suddenly feels worried about Mathias—a grumpy Lukas in the morning is hard to get along with. Emil yawns, mumbling something like I’m sorry to his brothers while he has been far away from his home. He rubs his eyes, hurrying on his way when the traffic light turns green.

“I regret accepting the job.”

This is the first thing Eduard tells him when Emil finally arrives at the planetarium. He could make sure that Eduard is as tired as him after he witnesses the guy pushes over a row of bikes when they’re locking their own bikes. Waiting for his friend picking up the pieces, Emil can’t help but wondering; how did they both get there in a safe way?

He follows Eduard into the building, just finds they’re the only two in the huge space. The day has dawned outside though, the sunlight doesn’t spread into galleries. Emil looks around. he can merely see the exit signs in the end of those corridors. The hall is totally dark, dark enough as if a universe truly existing here. “What do you preview today?” he asks.

“English narrator for the star maps program this month. The staff here is on vacation, so my teacher asked me to give it a try.” Eduard turns back, reminding Emil to take notice of those hanging exhibits, “Would you refine my speech later?”

“Got it. You plan all the things and invite me to join you at the final step.”

Eduard only answers him with chuckle, keeps walking ahead until stopping at the double door of the theatre. He pushes the doors open and a huge dome room silently appears in front of them. They’re surrounded by a giant, pale hemisphere. The wall fittings hidden in the corners and stairs slowly enhance the light. The glow gradually turns the cool gray full of the room into warm and sunset colors. Emil wanders into the seating, looking up to the top of the dome.

He’s tapped on the shoulder suddenly. Taking a cold glimpse of his back, Emil finds that Eduard makes a gesture for sorry, “I guess you may need a nap. Find your seat first.

“You know it’ll be meaningless to sleep here.” He talks back quietly. But Eduard doesn’t hear that, he just walks upstairs in a hurry. Emil looks at his back, noticing that there are some staffs of the museum waiting for his friend at the highest place.

He walks alongside the stair Eduard passed by, searching for a seat he can curl up his body comfortably. He chooses the one located in the middle rows in the end. Taking off his backpack, Emil lays down on the tilted chair and holds his pack tightly. The dim lights are turned off one after another. Emil closes his eyes, hearing some buzzing noise from the speakers. The sounds soon turn into a male voice Emil has been familiar with. “Testing now…, üks, kaks, kolm…,” the voice is clean and soothing as always, but now speaking in a language Emil has never known, “Tere hommikust, see on von Bock…, okei…. Let’s start.” Emil opens his eyes, but just staring at the scene calmly. The silent, dark blue widens above him, stars sparkling in the night; this is not the first time Emil watches an astronomy show, since his brother has been dedicating a few years to the research field. He has to admit that he pays little attention to Eduard’s speech because he has contact with such type of knowledge for years. The starry night is gradually darkening, only a few brighter stars are left in the end. Lots of white lines appear on the dome screen, connecting the shiny dots like a connecting puzzle game. Some figures in the ancient mythology are added later. Emil looks at all these changes though, his mind is just sinking into the memory. He remembers one day in his elementary school; he and his classmates did a special experiment that day. They spent almost an afternoon building a volcano model.

He forgot how his teacher make the “magma” looks real, only remembering the red liquid climbed along the clay mountain he built hard, and finally spouted from the gap, flowing and covering the grass slope made by his friend. All his classmates were getting excited at the moment, except for Emil, he was still stunned by the red colors weaving beneath the surface, keeping quiet and couldn’t look away from the colorful layers.

*

The line drawings fade, the few stars are scattered by the Milky Way, uncountable white blots splash over the dome in the blink of an eye. The narration is slowly muted in a gentle piano tune. Emil sits straight up, intending to look back while Eduard has come and sit next to him.

“How’s my performance?”

“Uh?” Emil stops for a moment, realizing that he has no excuse for getting distracted, “sorry…, I didn’t focus on it.”

“It’s okay. I’m glad you feel relaxed here.” Eduard says, waving at the control room behind them, “Mrs. Janssen said we could stay here for a while, but we’ve to leave at 20 minutes before the opening time.”

Emil gives a glance at his watch. They have about an hour.

“So, as for now, would you mind if I say something here?”

“What? I mean… about what?”

“About my home,” Emil turns to Eduard soon, but Eduard doesn’t make eye contact with him, “Do you know Tartu?”

“…Your hometown?”

“Yeah, wanna take a trip?”

“That’s not the point.” He sits back in his chair, knocking the armrest a little impatiently, “What do you want to say?”

“I escaped from there.” Eduard answers him a smirk though, “Sounds like a spoiled teenager, is it?”

“…Why did you escape?”

“Because I was refused.” Emil sits frozen. He’s about to jump and look at Eduard, but he forces himself to focus on the night sky. Eduard doesn’t notice that, just continuing his words, “My family opposed to everything I wished for, such as my hobbies, my high school, and my career. They think I shouldn’t decide those things on my own…. Hey, imagine a situation, you gave your child the best education in your opinion, hoping he or she succeeded in school, in the future, to praise your family. But one day the brat just told you I don’t want you to treat me like that, I don’t want to waste my time on those things ‘I do for your own good’ then left you and studied in a young university which just reorganized within years, and planned to get a degree you thought it’s not ‘useful’ at all. The brat even lives abroad now. How do you think? Do you feel it’s like a sense of betrayal?”

“I don’t agree with the thought of useless degree.”

“Neither do I. But my family is as stubborn as me. They think UT is better than all school located in Tallinn. Why do I insist on studying there when I have ability to apply to the elite university in their minds? I could tell you that up to now, my family still rejects my decision…. I’ve worked so hard to show them I wouldn’t let them being looked down on although I didn’t follow their advice. Unfortunately, I was overwhelmed by their disapproval. From then on, I started to wonder, if Tallinn is not far enough away, what about moving to a place more distant from them? At least I’m good at, um, being a good student? So I had confidence to make my plan work…. Look, I’m sitting beside you right now. I win the bet. How lucky I am.”

“Yeah, yeah, a gifted exchange student.” Emil replies mindlessly, then pauses for a second, “but don’t you think it’s another way to show your family you’re right?”

“No, I’m just an escapist. The only thing I want to do is to get rid of them, the farther the better.”

“You’re so straightforward.”

“It’s true anyway.”

“Do you ever consider going back?” He thinks of what Eduard once said; he’ll do whatever to stay in Copenhagen.

“Yes, I do. After all, I love my birthplace.” Eduard’s voice sounds a little tired. Emil hears a tiny sound like taking off the glasses. “Maybe Tartu is getting old. She’s not like Tallinn, willing to embrace the sea, embrace the world. But to me, she gives me a sense of belonging, which is impossible to be replaced by any other place. I know I belong to the city, and I’m also proud of being born there, but it shouldn’t conflict with the tiredness I have sometimes. Like now, I feel tired more than eager to stay there, but it doesn’t mean the two feelings won’t end in a draw, and maybe my passion for my hometown will come back one day. Sounds not bad, is it?”

“Feeling tired… more than feeling eager to stay?”

Emil doesn’t get answer this time. Eduard sounds like he’d not like to keep talking, his calm voice fading away, one of his arm rising and covering his face while the other one just resting on the chair. His glasses are held slightly in his fingers. Emil can’t stop wondering, is it struggling for a long time or lack of sleep to cause Eduard’s tiredness. He wants to touch Eduard’s hand if it can comfort him, but he doesn’t even know what motivates him to do that.

“Oh, by the way, I’m still willing to be your tour guide if you really want to visit Tartu.”

“Or you could be a host for your new travel channel.” Emil talks back. They turn to look at each other at the same time, under the fictional night. It feels like all their thoughts hidden behind the eyes could be read easily. Emil thinks, being about to avoid the gaze, but a sound in his mind’s just trying to convince him, he should leave something in return for their relationship, “…why do you tell me all of this?” His voice is awkward though, he looks someone in the eye at least.

“I thought you want to know.”

Emil finally turns away. What a god damn embarrassing answer.

He hears the annoying laughter as expected, almost making him want to punch the guy. Eduard spends a few seconds stopping his laughter, “Hey, I’m honest with you,” he explains after Emil turns to him again with slightly blushing, “After all, you looked very curious after we finished the work in archive room that day, but you also looked hesitant to ask me. I don’t know it was because you were scared by me or you were worried about something, after all it was the first time I showed my worst status in front of you, if I remembered correctly…. Back to the topic, I think it’s better to find a chance to talk about it, and tell you it’s okay you ask me anything. Hoping you won’t see me as a self-centered guy.”

“Well sometimes you gave me the impression. By the way, we finished the archive work one month ago, I don’t think you’re a dull person who has no reaction for such a long time.”

“No, I’m not. I didn’t mention it because you’re too slow to warm up to people.”

“Yeah, right.”

“There’s another reason,” the chairs squeak, Eduard sits up a little straighter, taking his glasses on, “besides your shyness, you look like you have no energy often, and it’s not quite hard to notice your lack of confidence from, um, average negative people. It’s just my intuition, I don’t know if you were asked before…. You give me a feeling that you’re always a foreigner. The loneliness is too hard to ignore so I can’t help but being attracted by it.”

“Foreigner?”

“Um… in fact, I think it’s more accurate to describe it as a stranger, never feeling fit in with the surroundings no matter where you go.”

Emil holds his body more tightly, pretending to not hear anything except for the noise from his squeezed backpack.

“Am I right?”

“…Hm.”

“As for why I nag all of these, you look like you’re bothered by some upset thoughts for a while, and hurry to find a way to be released from it. I think it’ll be great you don’t feel helpless anymore so sorry for sometimes being a busybody. I can’t always read the tangle in your mind completely but I can’t either leave you alone.” Eduard says, leaning his arms against the armrest of Emil’s side, “It feels like I find a resonance with you though your situation is a little different from mine. I’m not pretty sure but, you’re kinda like a combination of inferiority and strong personality. The two opposite thoughts make you feel struggled always, and bring you the anxiety you have no idea to deal with. You’re chasing a solution you don’t even know to erase them all.”

The dark sky was bleached. The warm light is rising from the corners and slowly wrapping up the white dome.

“Emil, did you ever think you’ve already found your answer? What you need now is just a little bit more courage, to prove that you deserve what you dream.”

“…Did you know? Sometimes I really want to say, I have no idea to get along with you.”

Emil stands up and looks Eduard back from a high angle—it’s rare to him to be honest.

“Haha, sounds better than your first sight.”

Eduard also stands up, picking his pack up and walking to the exit first. Emil stays for a while, then runs and catches up with Eduard, “But, there’s another thing I need… I want to tell you,” he says, approaching the door handle before Eduard.

“Thank you.”

He rushes into the hall before getting any reply, following the direction boards he could barely see, going straight and turning without hesitation. He doesn’t even know whether Eduard is walking behind him, his footsteps are too heavy and dull, but he’d make sure that his partner would realize his thought.

Emil turns back, as he’s looking forward to, meeting a warm smile within his sight.

>>original Chinese version<< (including English version Chapter 5&6)

A/N2: Some Estonian words mentioned in the chapter ˊωˋ

Üks, kaks, kolm: one, two, three in Estonian.

Tere hommikust, see on von Bock.: “Good morning, this is von Bock.” in Estonian.

UT: the University of Tartu. It’s the oldest university in Estonia, established by King Gustavus Adolphus of Sweden in 1632.

I take a reference from the youtuber. She’s sooo cute and has a sweet voice but doesn’t post any video for a while _(;3_ㄥ)_ (and google and wiki of course haha)

If there’s anything wrong or improper please drop me a message! Thank you!!

[justthehiddleswrites]

The Reluctants | Chapter 5 | The Reluctant Step

Pairing: Adam (OLLA) x OFC (Charlie Bock)

Summary:  Charlie can’t believe her luck when she lands an apartment all to herself in Quincy, Massachusetts in a decaying triple decker. But life gets more complicated when someone moves into the basement. Specifically her landlord, Adam, who also happens to be a vampire. As life collapses around Charlie, these two forge an uneasy and unlikely relationship. But is their relationship as doomed as the building they live in?

Chapter:   After much sexual frustration, Adam and Charlie take a big step in their relationship. And Adam can’t let go of his past.

Warnings: Violence, Smut, Frottage, Dry Humping, Teasing, Coming In Pants, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex. Couch Sex. Kidnapping. Stalking. Non-Graphic Violence, Character Death

-

“This should be a deterrent.” Charlie smoothed her hands down the front of her navy blue sweater and onto the long Black Watch plaid skirt that ended mid-shin. She contemplated going down just in her pristine white socks and then remember the state of Adam’s carpets.

“I am wondering if he even owns a vacuum or does he just beat out his carpets like they used to?” She muttered while shoving her feet into a pair of old loafers.

Adam overheard her heavy footsteps on the stairs as Charlie made her way down to the basement door. He swung the door open as she reached up to knock.

“What did I say about knocking?” he grumbled.

“What did I say about manners?”

Adam licked his lips as his eyes raked down Charlie’s body, taking in her outfit. Her attempt at demure and understated, dare Adam even say dowdy, backfired. For one, her navy blue sweater was cut in the same deep vee as all the rest. And those fucking socks with loafers. He could feel himself growing hard already.

“Are we going to a sock hop?”

“What?” Charlie pulled the skirt away from her body, bending down to check out her shoes, unwittingly give Adam an eyeful down her sweater. “I think I look nice.”

Adam grunted as he pulled her into the apartment, slamming the door behind her. He pushed her against the door. Charlie’s breath caught in her throat when Adam nuzzled against her neck, nipping at the skin.

“I bet you are even wearing little white panties underneath. How proper of you.” he taunted, pulling her sweater out of the waistband of the skirt.

Adam threw the sweater unceremoniously over his shoulder. He pawed at the simple black bra, squeezing. Charlie arched her back, which allowed Adam to unhook the bra, slipping his hands against her bare skin.

“Why do you tempt yourself with things you will never know?”

Charlie leaned in, grabbing Adam by the shoulders shoving the faded black silk shirt off, since tops were now optional in this odd relationship. Her tongue explored his mouth. She loved how he tasted like metal and dust, as though his insides continued to decay even as his visage remained youthful. His tongue in turn tasted her mouth. Adam hated he was starting to like Charlie’s cherry lip balm and peach lip gloss. There was a hint of coffee on her tongue, which Adam surmised she drank to stay up late. It was almost touching.

“I wouldn’t bet on that.” he chuckled against her lips. His hands skimmed down Charlie’s sides until it reached the waist of her skirt. Adam inched the heavy plaid fabric up until the fabric gathered around Charlie’s hips.

“That’s against the rules.” she protested but not moving to stop him. Her legs slid further apart.

“I’m not removing anything.” Adam’s voice distance as he moved to position him between Charlie’s legs. “I am rearranging it.”

Adam expected to see a pair of prim white cotton panties but instead found black bikini briefs, matching the bra.

“You are not what I expect.” Adam commented. He nipped at her inner thigh and Charlie hissed.

“You’re welcome?” she muttered. “Don’t you need to feed today?” Charlie hoped to pull him up and back onto less “stimulating” topics.

“You’re right.” Adam gripped her leg holding it open. “Absolutely fucking right.”

Charlie’s knees buckled as Adam’s fangs sunk into her hitting the femoral artery. Adam sucked hard, drinking her in, pushing her against the door for support. Charlie fumbled with her hands before settling them in Adam’s hair.

“Fuck.” Adam pulled off of Charlie, licking her as the blood continued to trickle slowly, not wanting to waste a drop. “You are fucking delicious.”

Adam smirked against her. Once the bleeding stopped, he turned his attention to Charlie’s core. His nose nudging against her clit. Her fingers gripped his hair. Adam slid her panties to the side, careful to not slip underneath the satin fabric.

Charlie glowered at him, tugging at his hair.

“Not breaking the rules.”

She already glistened for him. He licked his lips as the sight made him strain against his pants. Adam hooked Charlie’s leg over his shoulder, licking along her folds.

“Oh…” Charlie gasped. “That’s… that’s…”

“If you say breaking the rules…” Adam continued to lick her, sucking on her clit. Charlie dug her nails into Adam’s scalp and moaned.

“Fuck, that feels good.” She arched her back and pulled Adam into her core.

“Just imagine how my cock would feel.”

Charlie’s mind flashed on Adam naked, thrusting into her with abandon. His fangs glinting in the shitty overhead lighting as he prepared to feed on her just as she came.

Between Adam’s tongue and her overactive imagination, Charlie came, moaning Adam’s name. He continued to eat her out through her orgasm. His cock grew so painfully hard, he fumbled with his fly releasing it from the confines of his pants.

Adam dropped Charlie’s leg and stood, fisting himself while crushing his lips against hers. Charlie tasted herself, both her arousal and her blood on Adam. He moaned into her mouth as his balls tightened.

“Fuck!” Adam stepped back from Charlie, coming on her stomach and chest, staining her bra.

Charlie at the moment, didn’t care much about Adam ruining her most comfortable bra. She finally recovered her senses to speak.

“So… um… that was….”

Adam pressed against her, his cock, pressing between the two of them, making even more of a mess of both of them.

“… Delicious.” Adam huffed, finishing her sentence.

“I think I should…” She gestured at the door. Charlie grabbed for the knob, but Adam got there first, holding it shut.

“Stay.”

“I shouldn’t. I don’t…”

“… fuck musicians. I get that.” Adam rolled his eyes. “If you are going to insist on these absurd rules, then I insist we talk, have a normal fucking conversation. I am more than just a whore here for your pleasure.” His tone sharp.

Charlie blinked. She hadn’t thought like that. That not how she saw Adam at all. But if he was going to attempt to adhere to her rules, despite taking full advantage of loopholes, she could make an effort as well.

“Okay. I need to get cleaned up.” Her eyes darted to her bra and stomach.

“The bathroom is down the hall and it works. I can go upstairs and get you some clean clothes.”

Charlie smiled and nodded. “Thank you. You know where my underwear is.”

Adam chuckled, thinking back to that first meeting, which felt like an eternity but had only been a month or two.

“Sorry about that.”

“You need to get better at lying. A leak in my underwear drawer?” She raised an eyebrow.

“I panicked.”

“Clearly. I am going to…” She ducked under his arm and walked towards the hallway. “… take care of your ‘gift’.”

Once she moved out of sight, Adam took the stairs two at a time. Charlie’s apartment was dark. Darker than usual. Adam spied the newly hung blackout curtains on every window and smiled.

“You are unexpected.” he commented to himself as he dug through Charlie’s dresser to find an oversized t-shirt, some shorts and undergarments.

He glanced around the bedroom. Tidy but not neat as a pin and oddly devoid of photographs. No pictures of friends or family. A banker’s box sat on the floor, filled with papers and some knickknacks. Must be the stuff from her job, Adam pondered. Shit. Charlie is going to have to get a job at some point. He hoped it wasn’t a job that made her work nights.

By the time, Adam returned downstairs Charlie was stepping out the shower. She smelled like him, sandalwood and old men’s cologne. With a towel wrapped around her and curls dripping onto her shoulders, she stepped out into living area.

“There was only one towel.” Charlie shrugged.

“I don’t do laundry much.”

“So is the no underwear a laundry thing or a rock star thing?” The corners of Charlie’s mouth twitched.

“It’s a Adam thing.” he retorted dryly. He shoved the clothes in her direction. “Here.”

“Thanks.” She ducked back into the bathroom to change. Adam lumbered around the living room, his hand running along the side of the instruments on the wall until they settled onto a 1972 Rickenbacker 381 Jetglo and he lifted it off the hook.

“May I see?” Charlie’s voice rang out from behind him.

Adam held out the instrument to Charlie. She skimmed her fingers across the curves of the guitar’s body and the strings along the neck.

“Will you tell me about them?”

Adam smiled. “Yes.”

Charlie hopped over to the couch, tucking her legs underneath as Adam placed the guitar around his neck and strummed the strings, feeling every bit of music every played on that guitar humming through him. Charlie had never seen Adam so at peace.

-

Charlie stayed on that couch for hours listening to Adam ramble on about the different guitars, their names, their history. He even played a bit for her. Charlie’s eyes grew heavy and the nighttime hours waned.

“I should head upstairs to bed. I have interviews after lunch tomorrow.”

“Today.” Adam corrected. His chin dropped. “You could stay here and sleep.”

Charlie stretched and pulled herself to her feet. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Adam placed the Gibson he was noodling on down and walked towards her, encircling her waist with his arms. “When will you realize that none of this is a good idea, but rather the best idea?” He leaned down kissed her lips. He kissed her with passion but not hunger. Charlie sighed and parted, pushing them apart by placing her hands on Adam’s bare chest.

“I… I… “ Charlie chewed on her lip, looking for the right words. Adam stared down at her, waiting for an answer. “… just can’t right now.”

Adam’s face fell and for once the cold disinterested exterior did not replace his expression. He gave a tight smile. “I am a vampire. I have nothing but time.”

“I will get there. This is all new to me.” Not just being with a vampire but being with someone who actually gave damn. About her. About anything.

“I’ve never ‘been with’ a…” He opened his mouth but caught himself. “… a human before. I usually just feed.”

“Oh.” Charlie’s cheeks burn with embarrassment. She assumed this was a normal occurrence for Adam, that she was just another relationship in his long life. “I didn’t know.”

“I didn’t share. I didn’t plan for this.” Adam trailed his thumbs along Charlie’s shoulders. “But you are not what I expected.”

“A trembling flower? Insipid girl?”

“Something like that.”

Charlie cupped his face.

“I’m not that kind of girl.” She kissed his face. “Sleep well, Adam. I’ll see you tonight.”

She took off and Adam didn’t stop her. The ache in his chest painful. His body and mind wanted Charlie but he wasn’t so sure about his heart.

-

Charlie didn’t knock that night. She purposely wore what was essentially pajamas. A loose t-shirt and a pair of shorts, no socks, no shoes. Adam was no where in sight. Charlie wandered to find Adam sprawled out on the enormous four poster bed, the dark gray sheets draped around him in such a way there was no mistake he did not wear pajamas.

“Is naked your default mode?” Charlie chirped as she peeled the pillow away from his face.

“What happened to knocking?” Adam groaned rolling over to his back.

“I got over it. Are you going to wake up or not?” Charlie peeked into the makeshift pillow hat Adam had created for him.

“Not.” Adam continued groaned. “Why are you so fucking cheery? Did you get new stick of that god awful Chapstick?”

“You are not a ‘morning’ person are you?” Charlie used bunny quotes for “morning person”.

Adam grunted and yanked the pillow from Charlie’s grip. “Go away.”

“No.” Charlie smirked. “I’m invoking 3a.”

Adam sat up, staring at Charlie with one eye closed and one eye squinted. Charlie’s thin shirt doing nothing to hide her unfettered breasts. Adam kept it cold in the basement and the nippy New England fall air did no favors to her nipples. “3a?”

Charlie leaned in until her nose pressed against his, staring into his unnatural eyes, and raised an eyebrow. “3a.” she said with gravitas.

Adam opened his eyes as Charlie’s hand slipped underneath the sheets to find his cock. Her fingers tentatively moving across his length. His cock jumped at the touch.

“I’m listening.” Adam’s eyes peeking open. He grabbed at the ample fabric of her t-shirt to yank her towards him. Charlie’s feet lost purchase, and she tumbled on top of Adam and the mattress.

“No bedrooms. Let’s head to the—” Charlie stated pushing up onto her hands. She moved to stand up but Adam pulled her back against his chest.

“No.” Adam growled. He rolled Charlie to the side and propped up on his elbow. “No more rules, no more agreements.”

Charlie’s eyes welled with tears. Flustered, she flailed about, sending a pillow flying to the floor. “I’m sorry. I.. I… I’ll see myself out.” her voice cracked and Adam realized his mistake. Charlie wiped at her cheeks.

“Wait.” he barked out, moving to the foot of the bed to block Charlie’s path.

She stepped to the right and then the left, Adam meeting her toe to toe each time.

“Please let me pass. I’ve taken enough of your time.” Her fists balled at her side. “Now if you will excuse me…” Adam reached up and wiped a tear off her cheek. “It’s the dust. You should really clean mo—”

Adam’s lips crashing against hers stopped Charlie’s blubbering. He reached out to cup her face, thumbs wiping away the tears still falling. Her feet fidgeted in place, not sure whether to run or melt into Adam.

“So that is how I get you shut up. I’ll remember that.” Adam chuckled. Charlie laughed, still fidgeting. “What I meant,” Adam sighed. “was no agreements. No rules. Let this just be what it is.”

“What is this?” Charlie responded, chewing her lip. “Landlord and tenant? Fuck buddies?” Adam rolled my eyes. “I don’t ‘do’ relationships. I don’t ‘do’ boyfriends. And they don’t do me.”

“Why do humans insist on labels?” Adam’s voice raising. “Why does it need to be anything? It’s you and me here in this moment. And in this moment, I want you in every way imaginable.” His hands slid down to her waist, teasing the hem of her shirt.

Charlie continued to chew on your lip, shifting in his grip. Her brows furrowed as she thought.

“It’s not like I am proposing marriage, Charlie.” Adam leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Please. Let me in. If only tonight.”

Charlie nodded. “I can do that.”

Adam’s lips curled into a smile. “Excellent. Because cold showers don’t work on vampires.”

Charlie’s hand snaked between them, her nail running on the underside of his cock. “I can help with that.”

“Please no more dry humping like fucking hormone crazed teenagers in their mother’s basement.” Adam rolled his eyes.

“I was thinking some a little more…” her fingers gripping the shaft. “… hands on.”

Adam’s head fell back to his shoulders and Charlie lowered herself to the floor. She flattened her palms against Adam’s thighs. She kissed along Adam’s cock, licking along the length. Charlie gazed up at Adam through her eyelashes. Adam caressed her hair, tangling his fingers into her curls. Charlie took the tip into her mouth and sucked.

“Fuck, your mouth.”

Charlie chuckled sending vibrations through Adam’s body. His hands gripped tight to her hair, tugging her mouth further onto him. Charlie gagged. Adam let go and pulled her to stand.

“Sorry. I am out of practice too.” He sat on the edge of the bed, pulled Charlie to stand between his legs, his thighs caging her in. “Now let’s see…” He pulled her shirt off and dropped it to the floor. “… no bra.” Adam lifted an eyebrow.

“You’re not the only one taking cold showers.” She pressed against him.

“Darling.” He nipped at her lower lip. “We shall take care of that.”

Adam spun them in place, allowing Charlie to fall onto the bed. She let loose a yelp as she bounced. His long fingers slipped into the waist of her shorts and he pulled them down Charlie’s leg, taking her underwear with it. For the first time, Charlie lay bare before him. He noticed her eyes darting about and her fingers twitching.

“You are magnificent.” Adam reassured her. He pushed her legs open with his hips. Charlie opened her mouth. Adam leaned down and pulled her torso to meet his. His tongue slipped into her mouth. “Take the compliment, Charlie. You are magnificent.”

Charlie didn’t respond but instead threw her arms around his neck and returned the kiss, hungry for him. Adam moved his lips along her neck, sucking hard on her pulse point.

“Adam…” Charlie moaned. “Please.”

His fangs grew more prominent as his cock hardened at Charlie’s moans. They scraped along her skin as he nipped at her collarbone. Charlie tugged at his hair, guiding his hand to her breasts. Adam’s tongue swirled around her nipple. Her legs fell open while Adam snaked a hand down to her folds and he turned his attention to her other breast.

“Already wet.” Adam murmured. He swiped along Charlie’s slit before pressing his thumb against her clit.

Charlie gasped into the crook of his neck before biting down. She was already so close. Her back arched into Adam. He slipped his finger into Charlie. She moaned and bit down harder.

“Yes!” she breathed, bucking her hips against his hands.

Adam released her nipple and crushed against her lips. He pumped his finger in and out of Charlie, making a delicious squelching noise.

“I can’t wait to bury my cock inside you.” Adam grunted, curling inside her. Charlie fisted the sheets on either side as she came, clenching around Adam’s finger.

He pulled out of her and teasing the head of his cock. Adam hissed air in through his teeth as he pushed into her inch by inch. Charlie lifted herself to meet him and Adam stilled once he was fully seated within her.

“Fuck, I have wanted you. I am afraid I won’t last long this time.” The glint in his eye indicated he had plans for the evening.

He rolled his hips, snapping them at the end. Charlie’s eyes fluttered close as electricity ran through her body. She regretted the ridiculous rules. She regretted the past several weeks and her stupid insecurity and baggage. Adam didn’t fuck her. He worshipped her. Made love to her. He lifted one of Charlie’s leg to his shoulder and continued to thrust into her, chasing his release and hers as well.

“Come on me, Charlie.” Adam said as her walls fluttered around him. “Let go.” His thumb swiped along her sensitive and swollen clit. As Charlie came, she screamed and cried, tears falling from her eyes. As she gripped against him, Adam grunted as he also orgasmed, pleasure washing across him.

“Fuck yes, darling!” He collapsed against her before rolling to one side. The two of them scooted against each other, Adam molded to the curve of Charlie. Her hair tickled his mouth. She smelled of the same bay rum and flowers she always did. It mixed with the smell of sex in the air.

Charlie shifted against him. “Adam?” her voice soft and questioning.

“Hmm?” He nudge his nose against her.

“Will you tell more about the instruments and music?”

“It doesn’t bore you?”

“Not the what you tell it. Please?”

“Yes.” He sat up and then stood. “Let’s get dressed. And what ever happened to not fucking musicians?”

Charlie smirked as she rose as well. “It turns out I do fuck vampires.”

Adam smiled.

-

Charlie settled onto the sofa wearing Adam’s spare dressing gown. She liked it smelled of his cologne and sandalwood, she kept sniffing the collar. Adam plucked a 1939 Super 400 Cutaway from the wall and held it out for Charlie to touch. Her finger ran along the cutaways in the body.

“This one is special.” Charlie whispered.

“Good girl. This is the one of the first guitars to have cutaways.”

“What do they do?”

Adam strummed along the strings, taking the guitar through its paces. “It allows the player to reach the higher registers more easily. It was popular with jazz musicians.”

“Do you play jazz?”

“At one point. I played all of it at one point.” He plucked the strings one last time before replacing it.

“Would I know anything?” Charlie perked up.

“Ever heard Schubert?”

Charlie’s eyes grew as large as doll’s eyes. “Yes…”

“Then yes.” He offered no additional information but grabbed another instrument.

“That’s not a guitar.”

“No, it’s not.” He twisted the pegs as he tuned the instrument. “It is a bouzouki. It’s Greek.”

“Is that where you lived before Boston?” Charlie propped her head onto her hand, smiling at Adam. His expression darkened.

“No.” He knew what was coming next. He turned away from Charlie.

“Then where?”

“Tangier.” He hit a sharp note. “Enough talking.” He put the bouzouki onto the piano bench and prowled towards Charlie. He caged her against the couch. “I intend to fuck you on this couch wearing my dressing gown.”

Charlie palmed him through the silk pajama bottoms. “I can live with that.”

Adam grunted and rucked up the gown. She already glistened. He lowered his head to her sex. He licked along her.

“Fuck Adam!” She jumped. He ignored her pleas to take it easy. He needed to fuck her now. Anything to stop the feelings threatening to bubble up. “Slow!”

“No.” he growled against her. He grabbed her knees and pulled her legs wide and pushed into her. Adam rutted into her, lifting her hips. Where he had been tender before, he was brutal. He reached up to squeeze Charlie’s tits, pinching the nipples.

“Ahhh!” Charlie held onto Adam’s shoulders for dear life. “I’m cumming.”

Adam pressed her leg towards her chest and ground his pelvis against. “Squeeze me, darling.” Charlie screamed Adam’s name along with a string of profanities as she clenched Adam’s cock.

“Fuck.” Adam grunted as three thrusts later, spilling into Charlie.

Charlie drifted off to sleep under Adam, who held her close. Once he was certain Charlie wouldn’t wake, He stood and retrieved a blanket from the bedroom to cover her. He slinked down the hallway and unlocked the door to the spare bedroom. He picked an antique lute, turning it over to examine the bowl, the pieces of dalbergia retusa inlaid with a lighter wood.

“Baby, I miss you.” He commented to the air,, the instrument laying in his lap, unplayed.

[architectnews]

2021 Australian Interior Design Awards Shortlist

Australian Interior Design Awards 2021 Shortlist, DIA News, Architecture

2021 Australian Interior Design Awards Shortlist News

20 May 2021

Australian Interior Design Awards 2021 Shortlist

Australian Interior Design Awards 2021

The highly anticipated 2021 Australian Interior Design Awards shortlist has been announced, with 190 projects recognised for excellence in interior design.

As Australia’s eminent design program, the industry-based awards acknowledge the exceptional interior design work produced across the residential, commercial and public sectors, both domestically and internationally.

Delivered by the Design Institute of Australia (DIA) and Architecture Media’s Artichoke magazine, the 2021 campaign marks the awards’ eighteenth year, and a return to the regular program following the successful execution of the first-ever digital broadcast in 2020.

The jury, made up of some of the countries most esteemed interior designers, noted that this year’s shortlist highlighted the ingenuity of Australia’s design community, with featured practices embracing the challenges presented by the pandemic, resulting in a transformation of traditional typologies that reject the ways of the past for something entirely new.

The 2021 jury, convened by Geraldine Maher, Director of Geraldine Maher Design, includes:

• Madeleine Blanchfield, Director, Madeleine Blanchfield Architects (NSW) • Caroline Diesner, Principal, Hassell (QLD) • Ryan Genesin, Director, Genesin Studio (SA) • Yasmine Ghoniem, Principal, YSG (NSW) • Patrick Kennedy, Founding Director, Kennedy Nolan (VIC) • George Livissianis, Founder, George Livissianis (NSW) • Rachael McCarthy, Studio Director, Bates Smart (VIC) • Adele Winteridge, Founding Director, Foolscap Studio (VIC)

The full list of final award recipients will be presented at the Awards Announcement Dinner, which will be held at the Hyatt Regency in Sydney on Friday, 3 September 2021.

Burgmann Anglican School – Early Learning Centre:

photo : Anne Stroud

2021 SHORTLIST

Residential Design

Adam Kane Architects for Barwon Heads House, Victoria ADDARC for Toorak Residence, Victoria Alcorn Middleton for Walan Apartment, Queensland Alexander and Co for Spotted Gum House, New South Wales Architecton for Moonee Ponds Residence, Victoria Architects EAT for Bellows House, Victoria Architects Ink for Margie’s Dream, South Australia Arent and Pyke with Luigi Rosselli Architects for La Casa Rosa, New South Wales Arent and Pyke with Polly Harbison Design for Garden House, New South Wales Arent and Pyke with Vitale Design for Queens Park House, New South Wales AVID Alice Villella Interior Design with Cera Stribley Architects for Myvore House, Victoria Beatrix Rowe Interior Design and Pop Architecture for South Yarra 01, Victoria Biasol Studio for Scalpellino House, Victoria Carole Whiting Interiors and Whiting Architects for Peace Project, Victoria Carr for Peninsula House, Victoria Cera Stribley and McCluskey Studio for Tess’ House, Victoria Conrad Architects for Toorak Garden Residence, Victoria Conrad Architects for Middle Park Residence, Victoria Design Office for The Carringbush Hotel, Victoria DKO Architecture for Alexander St, New South Wales Eastop Architects for Chenier, Victoria Eastop Architects for Eastbourne, Victoria Fiona Lynch Interior Design Studio for Ottawa House, Victoria Flack Studio for Potts Point, New South Wales Flack Studio for Middle Park, Victoria Flack Studio for Maxwell, Victoria Fox Johnston for SRG House, New South Wales Fox Johnston for Whale Beach House, New South Wales Jackson Clements Burrows Architects for Divided House, Victoria Kennon Architecture and Interiors for Packington, Victoria Killing Matt Woods for Four Ages, New South Wales KPDO for White House, Victoria KPDO for Art House, Victoria Kyra Thomas Architects for Queens Park House, New South Wales Martin J Scott Design for Berwick Residence, Victoria Mathieson Architects for Kirribilli Apartment, New South Wales Matt Gibson Architecture and Design for Fitzroy Bridge House, New South Wales McKimm Design for Sussex House, Victoria Myers Ellyett for Evelyn, Queensland Myers Ellyett for Harcourt, Queensland Megan Hounslow in collaboration with Neil Architecture for Netherby House, Victoria O’Connor and Houle Architecture and Landscapes for Oliver Lane Apartment, Victoria Pohio Adams Architects for Fairweather, New South Wales Powell and Glenn for Canopy House, Victoria Renato D’Ettorre Architects for K House, New South Wales Sam Crawford Architects for Annandale Terrace, New South Wales Skulptur Architecture & Interiors for Toorak Town Residence, Victoria Splinter Society Architecture for Colonnade House, Victoria Studio AEM for Inside Outside House, New South Wales Studio Bright for 8 Yard House, Victoria Studio Esteta for Mornington Peninsula House, Victoria Studio Four for Cunningham Street Residence, Victoria Studio Prineas for Bona Vista, New South Wales Templeton Architecture for Sussex House, Victoria Therefore for Richmond House, Victoria Tobias Partners for Bronte Terraced House, New South Wales Tom Mark Henry for Wahroonga House, New South Wales Travis Walton Architecture for Carlton North Residence, Victoria Williams Burton Leopardi for Walkerville Residence, South Australia Wrightson Stewart for Hendra Project, Queensland

ACMI Renewal:

photo : Shannon McGrath

Residential Decoration

Arent and Pyke for Garden House, New South Wales Arent and Pyke for Hue House, New South Wales Arent and Pyke for La Casa Rosa, New South Wales Arent and Pyke for Queens Park House, New South Wales AVID Alice Villella Interior Design for Myvore House, Victoria Chelsea Hing for Emerald Terrace, Victoria Doherty Design Studio for Toorak House, Victoria Esoteriko for Bunker in the Treetops, New South Wales Flack Studio for Middle Park, Victoria Hare and Klein for Woollahra Valley House, New South Wales Louise Walsh Interior Design for Mona Lane, New South Wales Lucy Bock Design Studio for Williamstown Residence, Victoria Martin J Scott Design for Berwick Residence, Victoria Matt Gibson Architecture and Design for Fitzroy Bridge House, Victoria Nickolas Gurtler Interior Design for RDG Residence, Victoria Pohio Adams Architects for Fairweather House, New South Wales Skulptur Architecture and Interiors for Toorak Town Residence, Victoria Studio AEM for Inside Outside House, New South Wales

The Mercy Centre Mater Private Hospital Townsville:

photo : Andrew Rankin

Hospitality Design

Agents of Architecture for Farmer’s Daughters, Victoria Alexander and Co for Harbord Hotel, New South Wales Amok for Agnes, Queensland BAR Studio for Park Hyatt Niseko Hanazono, Japan Bates Smart for Hilton Melbourne Little Queen Street, Victoria Bergman and Co for Poodle Bar and Bistro, Victoria Biasol Studio for Billie Buoy, Victoria Chris Connell Design for Hero ACMI, Victoria Derlot Group for Ping Pong Thai Restaurant, Queensland Design Office for Byrdi, Victoria Fiona Drago Architect for First Love Coffee, Victoria Fiona Lynch Interior Design Studio for CicciaBella, New South Wales Foolscap Studio for 1R Australia, Victoria Genesin Studio for Never Never Distillery, South Australia Genesin Studio in collaboration with Walter Brooke for ITL, South Australia Genesin Studio in collaboration with Walter Brooke for SOL Bar and Restaurant, South Australia Greg Natale Design in collaboration with PTID for Cotton On Wellness, Victoria Hecker Guthrie for Maddox Fit, Victoria Hecker Guthrie and Walter Brooke for EOS By SkyCity, South Australia Jackson Clements Burrows Architects for Mercedes-Benz Lifestyle, Queensland Kennon Architecture and Interiors for Citizen Snack Bar, Victoria Loop Creative for Sydney Tower Projects, New South Wales Luchetti Krelle for The Upper, Japan Platform by Design Office for Industry Beans Brisbane, Queensland Proto-Tipo for No. 179, Victoria Ritz and Ghougassian for Prior, Victoria Sans-Arc Studio for Bloom, South Australia Setsquare Studio, Chamberlain Architects and Hearth Studio for Sense of Self Bathhouse, Victoria Studio Gram for Hotel Indigo, South Australia Wall Architects for Meet Fresh, Victoria Woods Bagot for The Next Hotel, Melbourne, Victoria YSG for Four Pillars – Eileen’s Bar and Gin Laboratory, New South Wales YSG for Atomic Beer Project, New South Wales

Installation Design

Becoming You Exhibition Project Team for Becoming You: An incomplete guide, Victoria BoardGrove Architects for NGV Triennial 2020 Outdoor Pavilions, Victoria BVN: Re-Ply for Re-Ply: NeueHouse Longhouse, USA Enoki and Alison Currie and Australian Dance Theatre for Of All Things, South Australia Fiona Lynch Interior Design Studio for 80 Collins, Victoria Liminal Spaces for The Bleeding Tree, Tasmania Russell and George for Sarah and Sebastian, Victoria Scott Carver in collaboration with Artists in Motion for Sydney Opera House Tours Immersive Digital Experience, New South Wales Studio Plus Three for The Nicholson Galleries, Chau Chak Wing Museum, New South Wales Sydney Living Museums with collaborating practice Local Projects for Hyde Park Barracks Visitor Experience, New South Wales Thylacine Design for Penguin Parade Visitor Centre, Victoria Thylacine Design for Western Australian Museum (Boola Bardip), Western Australia Youssofzay and Hart for No Show, New South Wales Zwei Interiors Architecture for Citizen.MDW, Victoria

Rouse Hill Childcare, New South Wales:

photo : Ross Honeysett

Public Design

Alexandra Kidd Design for Cheltenham Early Education Centre, New South Wales BKK Architects and Razorfish for ACMI Renewal, Victoria Bury Kirkland Ferri with Gilby and Brewin Architecture for Spring Bay Mill – The Banksia Room, Tasmania CO-AP Architects for Rouse Hill Childcare, New South Wales Cox Architecture for Equine Education Centre at Willinga Park, New South Wales Cox Architecture for Burgmann Anglican School – Early Learning Centre, Australian Capital Territory Cox Architecture, Neeson Murcutt and Neille for Project Discover, New South Wales Kosloff Architecture for La Trobe University Library Bendigo, Victoria Peddle Thorp for The Mercy Centre, Mater Private Hospital Townsville, Queensland Studio Jigen for Yakult Visitor Centre, Victoria

Spring Bay Mill – The Banksia Room, Tasmania:

photo : Samuel Shelley

Retail Design

Akin Atelier for Camilla and Marc Armadale, Victoria Hecker Guthrie for Piccolina Degraves Street, Victoria Hecker Guthrie for Piccolina Hardware Lane, Victoria Hecker Guthrie for Piccolina Swan Street, Victoria Herbert and Mason in Collaboration with Grown Alchemist for Grown Alchemist, Victoria INK interior architects for AHW Studio, New South Wales Kennon Architecture and Interiors for Joey Scandizzo Salon, Victoria Latitude Group and Studio Massive for SBB, Victoria Loop Creative for Locali, New South Wales MADA Studio for Men’s Culture, New South Wales Russell and George for Sarah and Sebastian, Victoria Skeehan Studio for Canberra Glassworks, Australian Capital Territory Studio Griffiths for KTT Showroom, Victoria TA Square Architects for Kurimu The Glen, Victoria We Are Triibe and Future Studio for Dimes Cannabis, Toronto, Canada Woods Bagot for Sculptform, Victoria YSG for Four Pillars – Gin Shop, New South Wales

Workplace Design

3XN with NH Architecture for 600 Bourke Place Lobby, Victoria A1 Office for Clevertronics, Victoria Akin Atelier for INCU HQ, New South Wales Alexander and Co for Alexander House, New South Wales Architects EAT for Alfred Stables, Victoria Bates Smart for Publicis Groupe at Workshop, New South Wales Hayball for Melbourne Studio, Victoria BVN for Yarpa Indigenous Business and Employment Hub, New South Wales Carr for Norton Rose Fulbright Melbourne, Victoria Carr for MinterEllison Melbourne, Victoria Carr for Lander and Rogers Melbourne, Victoria Cox Architecture for Agile Workplace, New South Wales Cox Architecture for Transurban Workplace, Queensland Davenport Campbell for The Foundry – CBA at South Eveleigh, New South Wales Elenberg Fraser for Market Lane, Victoria Esoteriko for Dental Clinic: Brave New World, New South Wales Fitzpatrick and Partners Architects for F+P Studio, New South Wales Foolscap Studio for ANZ Centre, L10, Victoria Gray Puksand for The Hester Hornbook Academy, Victoria Greg Natale Design in colloboration with PTID for Cotton On Beckley, Victoria Grimshaw for 35 Collins Street, Victoria Group GSA for Chanel, New South Wales Hassell for Langdon Coffee Merchants, Victoria Hogg and Lamb for McConaghy Projects, Queensland Native Design Workshop for Victoria Arduino Experience Lab, Victoria Pierce Widera for Core Performance Physiotherapy, Victoria Pixel Architecture for Young Group Collins Street Office, Victoria Powell and Glenn for Gurner Head Office, Victoria Siren Design for The Commons Cremorne, Victoria Smart Design Studio for Smart Design Studio, New South Wales Studio Jigen for Yakult Visitor Centre, Victoria Those Architects for Aje Office, New South Wales Travis Walton Architecture for Caulfield North Office, Victoria Tzannes for Judith Neilson Institute for Journalism and Ideas, New South Wales Unispace for QIC Melbourne, Victoria Woods Bagot for Goodman – The Hayesbery, New South Wales Woods Bagot for Central Park Lobby, Western Australia Woods Bagot for SLR Consulting Sydney

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[easyfoodnetwork]

How Rotel Became an Essential Part of Any Queso

Sheila Fitzgerald/Shutterstock

How a canned blend of tomatoes, chiles, and spices became at million-dollar business

When Erin Smith, chef and owner of Houston’s Feges BBQ, makes queso, she does it the Texas way. She cuts a package of Velveeta cheese into half-inch cubes and adds them to a saucepan until — after the addition of peppers, spices, and tomatoes — the resulting mix is fully melted. By the time the queso is served alongside chips for dipping, it’s rich, yes, but also a bit spicy. Hints of chile pepper and tomatoes seep through the layers of cheese, thanks to a not-so-secret ingredient: a can of Rotel.

“I am a native Texan, and I lived in New York and San Francisco for a few years,” Smith says. “At the time, you couldn’t find Rotel in either of those cities. I would get care packages with shipments of Rotel because it was the only way to make a proper queso. I truly believe that you just can’t make a proper queso without Rotel.”

The original Rotel was and still is a simple mix of diced tomatoes and chopped fire-roasted green chile peppers, plus minimal amounts of cilantro, citric acid, salt, and the ever-ubiquitous “natural flavors.” The marriage of chiles and peppers is stirred at the canning site into tomatoes simmering in a bit of water, and it packs heat — the branding is quick to label the taste “zesty,” with a “distinctly regional flavor.” For Sade Onadiji, Rotel was one of the essential ingredients her mother adopted when she moved to Texas from Grenada. “I only use it for nachos and queso,” Onadiji says. “It’s part of my mom’s queso recipe, which I’m sure she had to pick up in Texas, because she’s an immigrant from a country where queso isn’t a thing.”

The story of Rotel, which is now available in different spice levels and chile types, dates back to 1943. It originated in Elsa, Texas from a vegetable canner named Carl Roettele. Evolving from chile con queso in 19th century Mexico, recipes for cheese dip with various veggies in the early 1900s called for an exhausting process of roasting, peeling, and chopping chiles, then sautéing them with tomato and onions and mixing them with grated cheese. By the 1920s, this type of chile con queso was a common menu item in Texas restaurants and home kitchens. However, according to food writer Robert F. Moss, the cooking process of pepper roasting and cheese grating was exhausting, leading Texans to wonder if there was a simpler alternative.

A Mexican horticulturist named Fabian Garcia is considered the father of the Mexican food industry in the United States, according to Paul Bosland, director of New Mexico State University’s Chile Pepper Institute. In the early 20th century, Garcia invoked hybridization to create the “New Mexico No. 9,” a pepper that was a bit milder in heat, and was sized to allow for more cost-effective processing. This chile became the prototype for more commercial chile processors of both canned green chiles and dried red chiles. Merchandisers were able to scale up their production, which expanded the chile pepper’s reach and popularity across the south, including Texas.

Recognizing the penchant for tomatoes and chiles in Texas, as well as the frustration with preparing them, Roettele came up with a grand idea. “He saw how popular the combination of tomatoes and chiles were together, so one day, he just had this idea: Why not can those together?” says Rotel brand communications manager Dan Skinner. Skinner says while there are new flavors and versions of Rotel — like chipotle and chili fixin’s — the original recipe stands as a foundation. “Rotel,” a phonetic spelling of the inventor’s last name, took off.

Throughout the rest of the ’40s, Rotel became popular in the major Texas cities like Houston, Dallas, and San Antonio, finding a place in dishes like guacamole, stews, nachos, crockpot dishes, mac and cheese, and of course, queso. Numerous iterations of queso already existed throughout the south before the inception of Rotel — even inciting some friendly border wars between states — but Rotel quickly became an essential ingredient, and queso’s popularity as an essential dip for football games, family events, and other gatherings became omnipresent. Rotel began marketing itself as a queso ingredient in 1949 through a recipe for chile con queso that simply required adding the canned good to melted cheese and serving it with chips.

Similar to many other canned good companies of that time, like Van Camp’s, Dinty Dinty Moore Beef Stew, and Campbell Soup Company, after gaining hometown popularity, Rotel slowly began to spread to nearby states like Oklahoma and Arkansas in the ’40s and ’50s, inspiring a cult following of sorts in the South. Not having to dice peppers was appealing, and an inexpensive canned good that could add so much seasoning to household staples was appreciated. Between 1948 and 1958, the number of supermarkets in the United States doubled to more than 2,500 stores; though fresh ingredients were valued at the time, housewives gained a renewed appreciation for consumerism and convenience after World War II, sparking a devotion to canned goods that reached homes and neighborhood cooking competitions throughout the country, including the White House.

“In 1963, when Lady Bird Johnson was second lady, she gave Rotel its first big PR win when she listed some of her favorite Texas recipes,” Skinner says. “She had a chili recipe that she shared, and Ro-Tel was the secret ingredient.” Lady Bird’s Pedernales River Chili was served at the family ranch and the White House. Though many versions of that recipe simply called for canned tomatoes, purists have remained committed to the version that Lady Bird touted publicly, which includes the beloved ingredient in exchange for the listed whole tomatoes.

In 2005, Rotel and Velveeta, that other essential queso ingredient, became partners, allowing Rotel to reach the Northeast and Midwest. Over the last 10 years, Rotel has become nationally available at 95 percent of retail locations; it’s now available at about 82 percent of stores in the Northeast. In 2002, ConAgra Foods acquired the Rotel brand, and now, its reach is far beyond the Texas cities that first popularized the pantry item. According to financial news site 24/7 Wall St., “Original” Rotel was the fifth most sold canned canned good in the United States in 2018, with $69.1 million worth of cans sold. The “Mild” variety placed 24th, with an additional $36.4 million in sales in 2018.

According to Skinner, the flexibility of Rotel is what’s made the item so popular both in Texas and around the nation. “You can take a basic recipe you’ve done a million different ways, but then you add Rotel, and suddenly it becomes spicy mac and cheese,” he says. “I think that versatility appeals to chefs and home cooks.”

For Savannah Bock, who has roots in Georgia and South Carolina, Rotel was an essential ingredient at her home, even if she didn’t know it growing up. “My mom put it in so much: ropa vieja, stewed okra, and black beans whenever we’d have taco night,” Bock says. “I found out Rotel was that secret ingredient when I went to college and tasted it in this Velveeta queso mix — I realized that my mom had been using Rotel all along.”

But not everyone is fully committed to the can. Mexico native and Houston chef Felipe Riccio prefers making his queso — tomatoes and chiles included — from scratch. Still, he recognizes the value of pre-canned tomatoes for home cooks and chefs alike.

“Rotel is a comfort food,” he says. “I don’t think it’s a bad product, I just prefer to tweak it or use it as a base.”

In a world burdened with the ongoing effects of a global pandemic, comfort food is exactly what many home cooks are looking for. “It just has a really nice flavor that’s unique, and slightly spicy,” says Bock. “It’s really something that you have to bring to your dishes.”

For home cooks and chefs throughout the south, Rotel will likely make an experience on the football snacks table, in warm stews, and in old family recipes. Packing the harmonious blend of tomatoes and spice, Rotel — demonstrative of a beautiful marriage between convenience and flavor — will be a fall pantry essential for years to come.

Kayla Stewart is a freelance food and travel writer based in Harlem with roots in Houston, Texas.

from Eater - All https://ift.tt/3esnZnb https://ift.tt/3kSHtnz

Sheila Fitzgerald/Shutterstock

How a canned blend of tomatoes, chiles, and spices became at million-dollar business

When Erin Smith, chef and owner of Houston’s Feges BBQ, makes queso, she does it the Texas way. She cuts a package of Velveeta cheese into half-inch cubes and adds them to a saucepan until — after the addition of peppers, spices, and tomatoes — the resulting mix is fully melted. By the time the queso is served alongside chips for dipping, it’s rich, yes, but also a bit spicy. Hints of chile pepper and tomatoes seep through the layers of cheese, thanks to a not-so-secret ingredient: a can of Rotel.

“I am a native Texan, and I lived in New York and San Francisco for a few years,” Smith says. “At the time, you couldn’t find Rotel in either of those cities. I would get care packages with shipments of Rotel because it was the only way to make a proper queso. I truly believe that you just can’t make a proper queso without Rotel.”

The original Rotel was and still is a simple mix of diced tomatoes and chopped fire-roasted green chile peppers, plus minimal amounts of cilantro, citric acid, salt, and the ever-ubiquitous “natural flavors.” The marriage of chiles and peppers is stirred at the canning site into tomatoes simmering in a bit of water, and it packs heat — the branding is quick to label the taste “zesty,” with a “distinctly regional flavor.” For Sade Onadiji, Rotel was one of the essential ingredients her mother adopted when she moved to Texas from Grenada. “I only use it for nachos and queso,” Onadiji says. “It’s part of my mom’s queso recipe, which I’m sure she had to pick up in Texas, because she’s an immigrant from a country where queso isn’t a thing.”

The story of Rotel, which is now available in different spice levels and chile types, dates back to 1943. It originated in Elsa, Texas from a vegetable canner named Carl Roettele. Evolving from chile con queso in 19th century Mexico, recipes for cheese dip with various veggies in the early 1900s called for an exhausting process of roasting, peeling, and chopping chiles, then sautéing them with tomato and onions and mixing them with grated cheese. By the 1920s, this type of chile con queso was a common menu item in Texas restaurants and home kitchens. However, according to food writer Robert F. Moss, the cooking process of pepper roasting and cheese grating was exhausting, leading Texans to wonder if there was a simpler alternative.

A Mexican horticulturist named Fabian Garcia is considered the father of the Mexican food industry in the United States, according to Paul Bosland, director of New Mexico State University’s Chile Pepper Institute. In the early 20th century, Garcia invoked hybridization to create the “New Mexico No. 9,” a pepper that was a bit milder in heat, and was sized to allow for more cost-effective processing. This chile became the prototype for more commercial chile processors of both canned green chiles and dried red chiles. Merchandisers were able to scale up their production, which expanded the chile pepper’s reach and popularity across the south, including Texas.

Recognizing the penchant for tomatoes and chiles in Texas, as well as the frustration with preparing them, Roettele came up with a grand idea. “He saw how popular the combination of tomatoes and chiles were together, so one day, he just had this idea: Why not can those together?” says Rotel brand communications manager Dan Skinner. Skinner says while there are new flavors and versions of Rotel — like chipotle and chili fixin’s — the original recipe stands as a foundation. “Rotel,” a phonetic spelling of the inventor’s last name, took off.

Throughout the rest of the ’40s, Rotel became popular in the major Texas cities like Houston, Dallas, and San Antonio, finding a place in dishes like guacamole, stews, nachos, crockpot dishes, mac and cheese, and of course, queso. Numerous iterations of queso already existed throughout the south before the inception of Rotel — even inciting some friendly border wars between states — but Rotel quickly became an essential ingredient, and queso’s popularity as an essential dip for football games, family events, and other gatherings became omnipresent. Rotel began marketing itself as a queso ingredient in 1949 through a recipe for chile con queso that simply required adding the canned good to melted cheese and serving it with chips.

Similar to many other canned good companies of that time, like Van Camp’s, Dinty Dinty Moore Beef Stew, and Campbell Soup Company, after gaining hometown popularity, Rotel slowly began to spread to nearby states like Oklahoma and Arkansas in the ’40s and ’50s, inspiring a cult following of sorts in the South. Not having to dice peppers was appealing, and an inexpensive canned good that could add so much seasoning to household staples was appreciated. Between 1948 and 1958, the number of supermarkets in the United States doubled to more than 2,500 stores; though fresh ingredients were valued at the time, housewives gained a renewed appreciation for consumerism and convenience after World War II, sparking a devotion to canned goods that reached homes and neighborhood cooking competitions throughout the country, including the White House.

“In 1963, when Lady Bird Johnson was second lady, she gave Rotel its first big PR win when she listed some of her favorite Texas recipes,” Skinner says. “She had a chili recipe that she shared, and Ro-Tel was the secret ingredient.” Lady Bird’s Pedernales River Chili was served at the family ranch and the White House. Though many versions of that recipe simply called for canned tomatoes, purists have remained committed to the version that Lady Bird touted publicly, which includes the beloved ingredient in exchange for the listed whole tomatoes.

In 2005, Rotel and Velveeta, that other essential queso ingredient, became partners, allowing Rotel to reach the Northeast and Midwest. Over the last 10 years, Rotel has become nationally available at 95 percent of retail locations; it’s now available at about 82 percent of stores in the Northeast. In 2002, ConAgra Foods acquired the Rotel brand, and now, its reach is far beyond the Texas cities that first popularized the pantry item. According to financial news site 24/7 Wall St., “Original” Rotel was the fifth most sold canned canned good in the United States in 2018, with $69.1 million worth of cans sold. The “Mild” variety placed 24th, with an additional $36.4 million in sales in 2018.

According to Skinner, the flexibility of Rotel is what’s made the item so popular both in Texas and around the nation. “You can take a basic recipe you’ve done a million different ways, but then you add Rotel, and suddenly it becomes spicy mac and cheese,” he says. “I think that versatility appeals to chefs and home cooks.”

For Savannah Bock, who has roots in Georgia and South Carolina, Rotel was an essential ingredient at her home, even if she didn’t know it growing up. “My mom put it in so much: ropa vieja, stewed okra, and black beans whenever we’d have taco night,” Bock says. “I found out Rotel was that secret ingredient when I went to college and tasted it in this Velveeta queso mix — I realized that my mom had been using Rotel all along.”

But not everyone is fully committed to the can. Mexico native and Houston chef Felipe Riccio prefers making his queso — tomatoes and chiles included — from scratch. Still, he recognizes the value of pre-canned tomatoes for home cooks and chefs alike.

“Rotel is a comfort food,” he says. “I don’t think it’s a bad product, I just prefer to tweak it or use it as a base.”

In a world burdened with the ongoing effects of a global pandemic, comfort food is exactly what many home cooks are looking for. “It just has a really nice flavor that’s unique, and slightly spicy,” says Bock. “It’s really something that you have to bring to your dishes.”

For home cooks and chefs throughout the south, Rotel will likely make an experience on the football snacks table, in warm stews, and in old family recipes. Packing the harmonious blend of tomatoes and spice, Rotel — demonstrative of a beautiful marriage between convenience and flavor — will be a fall pantry essential for years to come.

Kayla Stewart is a freelance food and travel writer based in Harlem with roots in Houston, Texas.

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