#chinese fried rice is so good too mmm fried rice

[folkdances]

what's your favourite food that comes from OUTSIDE of your culture

[alittlepudge-neverhurtnobody]

kinktober #16

Runway Ready 👠 / Crystal Ball 🔮

Q offers to clean up the kitchen, which is great because if Eliot doesn’t get horizontal right now, he’ll probably die. The remnants of their Chinese takeout are strewn across the coffee table, and Eliot arranges himself as come-hither as he possibly can while lying on the couch and stuffed with so much fried rice, lo mein, egg rolls, and Sichuan chicken, that he’s afraid to take too deep a breath lest he burst the buttons off his waistcoat. 

It’s very unlike Eliot to have kept quiet about his kinks for so long, but what he’s whispered in the ear of many one-night stands suddenly gets stuck in his throat when he thinks about telling Q. It’s not that he thinks Q will react badly — it’s just that he seems so vanilla that even something as relatively mild as “Hey, I wanna eat until I physically can’t anymore” seems like a risk. Eliot would have to explain everything and it would be awkward for both of them and that, Q might not be as willing to put up with. It feels, as so many things about Eliot do, that the whole picture might be Too Much™ for any one person long-term.

So instead, he’s trying to settle for dropping clues. It’s like therapy; if Q puts it together himself, it’ll be more meaningful than if Eliot tells him. Or something. It’s been a long time since Eliot’s been to therapy.

Now, as Q scoops empty plates and half-empty containers from the table, Eliot groans performatively and rests a hand on the rounded swell of his belly, aiming a plaintive look up at him. 

Q looks back fondly. “You ate a lot, huh?”

Eliot’s ears perk up. “Mmm-hmmm,” he hums, trying to apply a coy overlay to the sound. “Yeah, I did.”

“Good thing we got the extra order of eggrolls,” says Q, ferrying the plates and containers to the kitchen. Eliot slumps back on the couch.

He knows Q is just being careful, that’s the thing. He would be, too, if the roles were reversed and it was Q who’d gained some weight recently, whose clothes fit differently and whose appetite had changed. He wants to think that in that case, he would be the one to talk about it, to open a conversation about how Quentin felt about his body, how he wanted Eliot to feel and talk and touch about it. It would be so easy if it were Q’s body. He knows exactly what he’d say: Q’s body is Q’s body, and bigger or smaller it’s the one he loves. Nothing could dissuade him from thinking it was perfect. But of course his confidence in his own body is much less; he can’t imagine being less into someone for a few extra pounds, but it’s frighteningly easy to imagine the same scenario with himself in the crosshairs.

Maybe tonight is the night that Eliot pioneers voluntary telepathic communication. As the sounds of running water and clinking plates waft in from the next room, he tries to beam his kink profile to Quentin wholesale, just upload the whole thing to him in one go so they can pass the checkpoint and move along. 

The water runs. The plates clink. Eliot thinks he might burst a blood vessel.

Q’s right; he did eat a lot. The heaviness is starting to pull at him, the weight of his overfull stomach bearing down on his hips, shading discomfort into even the most comfortable position to bloat in. He stifles a burp and gives his stomach a little massage himself, but it’s not the same. It’s like trying to give yourself a scalp massage; it’s just nicer when it’s someone else’s hands on you. 

He huffs and adjusts the pillow behind his head. Fine. He’ll wait.

Finally Q flops back down on the couch, carrying the crystal ball he’s been working on fixing for the better part of a week. So far it’s managed to outsmart Margo, Katy, and even Alice, so now it’s Quentin’s turn. Eliot watches through half-mast eyelids as Q turns it over and over in his hands, looking for a scratch or a hairline fracture or some other clue as to why it’s suddenly taken to showing everyone their deepest desires no matter what they’ve asked it. 

“Mmmm,” he tries again, rolling his hips gently and sighing. “I’m so full.”

Q’s busy pulling something up on his phone. He pats Eliot’s knee absently and goes back to squinting between his phone screen and at the crystal ball.

Are you fucking kidding me!!! Eliot beams in Q’s direction. Q doesn’t get the message. 

His stomach cramps, and he pulls in a sharp breath. Eliot’s no stranger to overeating, overindulgence is kind of his whole thing, but there’s a lot in his stomach right now and he’s starting to have a few regrets. He swallows a burp and tries to subtly work the cramp out with one hand. Until tonight, he’s been playing a sort of game with himself to see how far he can get without replacing any of his clothes, but it’s starting to look like he’s nearing the limit. The waistband of his pants bites into the soft flesh of his waist, and even on its last hole, his belt constricts his movement. 

He whines and rolls his hips with more urgency. “Oh,” he whines, aiming for a balance of exquisite suffering and irresistible seduction. “I shouldn’t have eaten so much. Mmmm, Q, I really overdid it.”

“Yeah, you ate a lot,” says Q, the crystal ball barely a centimeter from his face. 

“Put that down,” complains Eliot. “Feel, Q.” 

Q puts down the crystal ball, and Eliot grabs his hand and pulls it to the straining buttons of his waistcoat. “Feel,” he repeats, but it’s too much movement for how overfull he is, and he loses the word in a hiccup that does more to erode his dignity than most of his middle school gym experience, which is saying a lot. 

Q stares at him, his eyebrows coming together in confusion. “Are you okay?” 

“I could use a little — hic — help,” Eliot mumbles, turning his face toward the pillow. God forbid any of this process be normal and dignified and casual. 

“Oh,” says Quentin, his whole expression changing. He tosses his phone onto the coffee table, turns himself to face Eliot. “What is it? Your stomach?”

Eliot nods, keeping his mouth shut in case he hiccups again.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Hic — touch me, please.”

“Like …?” Q reaches up and brushes Eliot’s hair from his face. “Like that?”

“More like — hic — here,” says Eliot, pulling Q’s hand back to his belly. “Just … rub it? It helps.”

Q looks uncertain, but he straddles Eliot’s hips and looks to him for confirmation, as if to say Is this okay? Eliot nods, his stomach jumping with another hiccup.

“You, um, kind of seem to do this a lot,” says Quentin, concern lining his face. “Not judging you! It’s fine, as long as you’re not, like, hurting yourself. Which … you’re not, right?”

Eliot shakes his head and hiccups. Unbelievable that millions of magicians have existed throughout history and not one of them has figured out a spell to get rid of these? What’s even the point of having magic if not to rid life of all its little cruelties and indignities?

“Promise?” says Q, laying his hand softly on Eliot’s stomach. 

“Yes, Q. I — hic — promise I’m not hurting myself.”

“Okay,” says Q, applying some pressure, “then … what?”

Eliot burps miserably. This is not how he wanted this to go. He’s supposed to be in control, putting Q at ease, divulging his preferences with the practiced, easy sex appeal of the hedonist, not beached on the couch with his partner hovering over him trying to figure out if he has an eating disorder. There’s no glamor in this! 

He groans instead. “Can we talk about this later? When I’m not about to pop a button?” He can tell from the way Q’s eyebrows jump that he isn’t satisfied, but it’s the best he can do at the moment. 

And it does inspire Q to undo the buttons of his waistcoat, which is something. He can breathe a little easier, even if now he’s on the hook. Who knows, Q might get too caught up in fixing that crystal ball tomorrow to even remember to ask.

—

Eliot gets up early the next morning, or earlier than Q, at least. He makes coffee, starts pancakes, even slices fruit, all the trappings of a very well-adjusted partner with a totally normal relationship with food. His bloat from last night is gone, but his stomach is stretched, and he’s starving. If he’s fast enough, he can eat a few pancakes before Quentin even wakes up, and he can avoid any potential questions about what happened last night until he’s ready to bring up the conversation himself, gilded and gift-wrapped and perfectly packaged to present him in the most confident possible light.

An illusion that’s instantly shattered when Quentin wanders into the kitchen and says suspiciously, “You’re up early.”

“I slept well,” replies Eliot, pouring him a cup of coffee and adding milk before passing it to Q. “You?”

Q sits at one of the kitchen barstools, elbows on the counter, mug cupped between his hands. He’s sleep-soft in a t-shirt and a pair of flannel pajama bottoms Eliot has been trying to convince him to donate for years, and his hair is in the bare minimum of what could be called a ponytail, falling around his face in tendrils like a ’90s pop star. He’s lovely in the morning sunlight. He’s definitely worried.

“All right,” he says finally. “Thanks for making breakfast. I like seeing you cook.”

Eliot’s long past the days of his substance abuse, even if something like that is never truly gone and always lurks like a specter just out of sight. But cooking is what he threw himself into once he’d come out of rehab, once he’d joined a magicians’ recovery group, once he’d come far enough to trust himself with knives and hot pans and cooking wine. It took a long time to get here, and he’s not unaware that Q associates it with recovery. Is it a strategic choice for this morning in particular? Maybe. But he’s hungry, and the only thing he wants in his stomach after a night of indulgence is something else indulgent, and besides, he’s not the only one who’s cute with his mouth full.

Quentin drinks his coffee and rolls the crystal ball between his hands. It throws spears of light across the kitchen like a contrary disco ball, and Eliot gyrates to imaginary music as he cooks and smiles when it makes Q smile, too. 

And maybe it’s the sun, maybe it’s the smell of coffee and butter, maybe it’s Q’s determination to find what’s wrong with that crystal ball that makes Eliot think that if Q thinks there’s something wrong with him, he’ll dump just as much time and energy into trying to fix it. It’s what he does. And maybe there isn’t any sense in hiding from someone like that, because if they want to fix what’s wrong so badly, then they must care. Right?

He flips the last pancake and adds it to the stack that’s been warming in the oven, refills both their mugs of coffee, and slides onto the barstool beside Q’s, angling himself so they can look each other in the eye. “Hey,” he says as Q’s serving himself, trying to keep his voice even and non-alarmist. “So, about last night.”

Quentin’s eyes are on him instantly. “Yeah?”

“First of all, I’m okay,” he says, holding up his hands. “I promise. It’s not some fun new way to self-destruct. It’s actually … kind of the opposite. Usually. I’m not proud of my performance last night.”

The concern on Quentin’s face doesn’t disappear, but it doesn’t deepen, either. “Okay …”

“But this is something I like,” says Eliot, and he half-expects the windows to shatter or a water pipe to burst for how vulnerable and dangerous it feels. “It feels good. I know it sounds like maybe I just traded one vice for another, but — I drank because I didn’t want to feel anything. I do this because I do.”

“You … like to overeat to feel good?”

“Yes? It can’t be that much of a surprise. Once a hedonist, always a hedonist.”

“No, yeah,” says Q, “I’m just going back through the last few months and yeah, that tracks. That makes a lot of things make sense, actually.” He takes one of Eliot’s hands and laces their fingers together, then meets Eliot’s eyes. “I trust you if you say it’s a good thing for you, even if I don’t really get that part. And you’re okay with — I mean, your body has changed a little lately. Are you okay with that too?”

“Yes,” says Eliot without hesitating. “Especially in recovery. It’s like an extra fuck you to everything I spent the rest of my life trying to hide from. Like, I lived, bitch.”

Quentin cracks a smile. “For what it’s worth, I like it on you. You look settled, in a good way. Like you’re not having coke for breakfast anymore.”

“God,” says Eliot, shuddering. Sure, there will probably always be a part of him that’s rosily nostalgic for the part of his life that was one party after another, but he knows now that his picture of it isn’t accurate, that none of the ways he behaved then bear repeating now that he’s seen the alternative. That Eliot didn’t know he was loved. That Eliot didn’t know that he could be. 

Quentin squeezes his hand. “Thanks for telling me,” he says. “I’m open to playing with it. Just tell me what you want.”

“Well,” says Eliot, “I’m about to eat a lot of pancakes, and then I’d really like it if we went back to bed and you held me and rubbed my belly. Some light to medium body worship would also be welcome.”

“Deal,” says Q. He reaches across the counter for the maple syrup, and as he brings it toward his plate, his elbow catches the crystal ball and knocks it to the floor.

“Oh, fuck,” says Eliot, but Q’s not bothered. He cleans up the glass with a flick of his hand and directs it into one jagged, sparkling clump on the coffee table. 

“Honestly?” he says. “Sometimes it’s so much easier to fix shit after you just crack it open. It’s not like I’m in a rush, anyway. I’ve got a date this morning.”

Eliot grins as he piles pancakes onto his plate. When he’s finished, Q leans over, takes one more from the stack, and drops it on top.

“You know, I think I can get behind this,” Q muses, sitting back. “I’m in favor of anything that keeps you well-fed and means there’s more of you to hold.”

“Mmm,” says Eliot, cutting into his pancakes. “Then let’s get started.”

[krysmiss]

Weekly Tag Wednesday!!

Thank you pocket friends for tagging me! @mybrainismelted @such-a-barbarian @skylerwinchester @jrooc @lingy910y @dynamic-power @juliakayyy

1. which character from any media would you like to have as a father? Jack from This is Us. I need to rewatch but from what I remember, I think I'd like him as a dad. (Even though he dies when they're still kids)

2. if money, laws, time, and effort were no object, what animal would you want to have? A big cat. Either a tiger or lion.

3. what is your Chinese takeout order?  Usually something very basic like sesame chicken. Usually with lo mein unless I actually like the fried rice from the place.

4. what's your favorite emoji? I’m currently very into 🫠 and 😂

5. would you rather have a library, greenhouse, or home theater in your house? Yes.

6. what childhood tv show do you think of the most fondly? Ohh so many. I loved Arthur, The Berenstain Bears, Reading Rainbow, Liberty Kids... to name a few.

7. what was your tumblr like when you first joined? Oof that was so long ago lol. My Tumblr is basically a synopsis of my obsessions and interests throughout the years but is also full of random shit that I choose to reblog. I think that I'm alot more active and interactive with people now though.

8. what clothing style do you love but don't feel compelled to replicate yourself? Eh I don't really pay attention to clothing styles tbh.

9. if you were plopped into a fictional world, which one would you know the layout of the best? Mmm since I'm currently watching it, Bob's Burgers. Or SpongeBob. With a refresher, I think I'd do pretty good around Hogwarts too. Also maybe BOTW.

10. what is your favorite piece of art? I seriously considered putting a picture of Noel and Cam for this because I think that they are both gorgeous pieces of art but I won't. I don't have an answer to this though so...

11. do you have a water bottle? what does it look like? I have a few actually that I switch out. I usually always have one for home and one that I take and use at work though.

12. what fanfic trope is a quiet fave? Probably slow burn.

13. do you carry a daily bag? what does it look like? what's the weirdest thing in it? A basic crossbody bag. Uhh idk how weird it is but I have crystals in it that I carry with me.

14. if you had to ship Mickey with another Gallagher, who would it be? Probably Carl because they’d be absolutely ridiculous together.

15. what is a fanfic trope you didn't expect to like and then very much did? I don't normally venture outside of my normal tropes (canon compliant, smut, fluff and angst) but I am currently reading LRPD for fic club and I am so glad that I am. It has been SO good so far and I'm upset that I don't have as much free time as I used to have to read more but I'm making my way through it. So alternate first meeting? Slow burn? Whatever trope LRPD is - that.

16. Do you think s11 Mickey can still carry s11 Ian? I don't think so but I think that Mickey has tried. (I just thought of something so fucking sad about Ian being in a downswing and Mickey tries to carry him to bed but he realizes that he can't anymore and he gets mad at himself because he feels helpless. Fuck 😥)

17. who got custody of the killing bat when they sold the house? First person that I thought of was Carl but idk if that fits him anymore since he's a cop now. Ohh but I'll stick to that. It's not really used anymore though he just has it hanging up at the Alibi as more of an ode to his childhood and the Southside.

Super late but tagging a few peeps: @gallabitch73 @depressedstressedlemonzest @softmick and @jademickian unless you've already done it or don't want to - if so then here's a kitty for you 🐈 😊

[ftm2bbw]

I think it'd be so hot to be your friend and start casually encouraging you to eat more. You obviously don't need it, but it's still nice to have, a friendly voice not judging you when you're still hungry or shrugging it off and saying "It's fine! We can order another bowl of mac and cheese. I'll flag down the waiter." I make little comments here and there about how big your appetite is, occasionally mentioning how bloated your belly gets after a big meal and complimenting your belches.

But it doesn't stop with just encouragement.

After a while, once it fades into background noise, I start pushing. "C'mon, you're almost done! You can finish that bowl, can't you?" "Look, it's just one or two more bites! Gotta get your money's worth." "Eat it."

The forcefulness takes you off guard, startling you back into reality, seeing me holding up a fork full of delivered Chinese food. "Go on. Open your mouth. And eat it." Your tummy gurgles in protest, the waistband of your pants digging into your swollen, bloated body. Every last bit of you is screaming out that you shouldn't do it. Everything except your mouth, already salivating at the sweet and greasy food, and the part of your mind that you try to ignore, that's addicted to getting bigger. I bring the fork in closer, the scent filling your nose and making your eyes flutter. Your belly gurgles again, but this time you can't tell if it's pushing back against the food or crying out for it.

"Open."

Dutifully, as the food brushes against your lips, your mouth opens wide, letting me push the fork inside, tilting it forward and letting the foot spill onto your tongue. The flavors send pleasure coursing through your body, chewing instinctively. "That's it. Eat up. You want to get bigger, don't you? You're doing such a good job. Aaaand... Swallow." The command is so easy to follow, the muscles of your neck tightening, pulling the food down into your gluttonous, greedy stomach. It's uncomfortably full but in the best possible way. "Open up, let me see." Your puffy, fatty cheeks and your fatty chin/neck (they're really melded into one) don't allow your mouth to open far, but it's just enough for me to look inside and see that every scrap is inside you. "There we go! Now that wasn't so hard, was it?"

You deserve a reward, setting the fork aside so I can play with your rotund belly with both hands. I glide across the soft skin, exploring every inch, even sticking my finger into your belly button and curling my fingers under your belly apron. I even reach up and give your udders a little squeeze, making sure your boobs aren't neglected. A haze of pleasure settles into your mind, making you whimper pathetically as my hands move away. You hear the telltale sound of plastic cutlery scraping along the sides of a takeout container, scooping up a bit more fried rice. Just as before, I hold it up to your lips, knowing that you're even more full now than you were with your last bite.

"Come on. Just one more bite. I know you can do it for me."

Mmm, it really doesn't take much to convince me to eat more. I'm very suggestible. A comment here, a belly pat there, it's all too easy to give in and mindlessly eat.

Naturally, it would only grow easier over time. Just dropping into that complacent space, where nothing matters beyond eating and obeying. Even if my belly aches it wouldn't stop me, all I'd be able to think about is more.

And of course, even at my breaking point, enough attention to my belly and my tits would keep me eating. The pleasure would be far, far too good to resist. Always just one more order, one more bite, one more pound. More, more, more...

And heh, my neck is already gone at this point. All I have is double chin now, let alone as I get even fatter.

[fanficimagery]

Another One Bites the Dust pt. 2

Summary: In which you accidentally run into the new guy, only for him to take an interest in you.

Words: 6.6K Warnings: Violence and swearing. A particular scene here happened pretty early on when Billy first moved to Hawkins, but for the sake of this imagine just pretend it happened a little later on.

Requested? Yes. By a few of you. Lol. Part One can be found HERE. @charmed-asylum​ | @cilorawr​ | @misstartrekandel​ | @procrastinate-queen​ | @delvenakioti​ | @shelby-x​

Billy Hargrove. The boy was an absolute dick to most, but you and he meshed pretty well thanks to the meddling of your best friend Heather. There were days where his dick-ish attitude just rubbed you the wrong way and you gave him the silent treatment until he cut his shit out, and fortunately for you he was quick to remedy his wrong the moment you shrugged off his arm when he was back in one of his playful moods.

You and he became the school's latest will they or won't they duo, and unfortunately for you almost the entire school was leaning towards when you would hook up, not if.

The school day has finally ended and you're more than ready to go home, even if it means riding the school bus since your car was in the shop. Both Billy and Heather were absent, and you had to endure muttered catty remarks, and you're just so over it. No matter how much you denied anything going on between you and Billy, the female population of Hawkins High still held a grudge against you for taking his attention.

Walking outside, you're heading towards the faded yellow buses when blaring music gets louder and louder, and gravel and dust is kicked up when a familiar blue Camaro skids to a stop nearby you. You cough, waving a hand in front of your face to fan away the dust, and then roll your eyes at a smirking Billy. "Don't you look awfully perky for someone who called in sick."

He chuckles. "Get in. I'm not letting you ride the bus."

Normally you'd banter a bit before caving, but you're tired. Riding with Billy sounds a hundred times better than riding the school bus with gossiping bitches. "Oh my god, yes. Thank you. I love you," you babble.

Quickly walking around the front of his car, you open up the passenger side door and plop down into his passenger seat. Billy leans towards you, nudging his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose. "Mmm. Say that again, but slower and whisper it in my ear."

You snort, shaking your head in amusement. "Not today, Hargrove. Please. I just want to go home and sleep."

When you look at him, you're a bit surprised to see how fast he sobers up. "What happened?"

"The usual. Now can you please drive or are we waiting for Max?"

"Max can skateboard her ass home." You frown at him, but you know better than to delve into his relationships with his family. As you and Heather have come to find out, Billy did not get along with any of his family whatsoever and it was best for everyone involved if you never mentioned it. "Your parents still out?"

"Yep, but-"

"Aw come on, Princess. No buts."

"Yes buts, Hargrove. I still don't need a guard dog to sleep at my feet."

He grins and quickly glances back out his windshield. "Who said I'd be sleeping at your feet?"

Groaning and laughing, you reach over to weakly punch his arm. "Shut up and drive, please."

Billy ends up cruising around town and down the back roads, knowing exactly what you need to decompress. With the window down and wind whipping through hair, you turn your head to face Billy and smile at him. He smirks back, thumbs tapping out beats along to the songs blaring from his speaker against his steering wheel. But all too soon the drive comes to a stop when he pulls up to the curb in front of your house.

Just as you reach for your backpack at your feet, Billy lowers the volume to his radio. "So listen, Y/N, I was thinking-"

"Whoa. No way!"

He snorts. "Shut up." You chuckle, miming zipping your lips shut. "So anyways, what are you doing tomorrow?"

"Besides sleeping? Nothing. What do you have in mind?"

"Let's grab a bite to eat. Just you and me. No Heather."

You hum as you open the door, sliding out. "Normally I'd tell you to get bent, but I'm game if you're buying." You shut the door and lean down to peer in through the opened window.

"Whatever you say, Princess. It's a date."

Your smile drops and Billy's smirk widens. "What? No it's not."

"What'd you say?" Billy raises the volume to the point that you flinch and he points at his ear, shakes his head, and shrugs. "I can't hear you!"

"You're a dickhead!" He laughs, clearly hearing you and revs his engine. On instinct you step back and Billy shoots off, leaving you waving a hand in front of your face to get rid of the dust his tires kicked up. You sigh. "It's totally not a date."

With nothing better to do and no one to tell you not to nap to your heart's content, you immediately jump into the shower to wash away all the lingering smells and germs from school. Afterward you dress in a shirt that's about two sizes too big and a pair of shorts that your father would burn had he known you were in possession of them. Then after vigorously towel drying your hair before throwing it up into a messy bun, you grab a pillow and blanket and fall onto the couch in front of the TV that's playing MTV.

Your eyes flutter shut for what feels like minutes, but when they fly back open the darkened living room says otherwise. For a moment you're confused as to why you were startled awake, but then the doorbell rings and nearly scares you half to death. When the pounding starts, you're quick to sit up and scramble towards the door, yanking it open seconds later. You're greeted by a beaming Heather and a too smug Billy.

"You have a date?!" She practically screeches.

You frown, rubbing the heel of your palm into your right eye. "Uh, no?"

"That's not what Billy says."

"Billy's a liar. You should know this by now."

Heather giggles and brushes passed you into your house. "Whatever. We brought Chinese. Hope you're hungry."

You watch her go and then turn to face Billy who's now eyeing you up and down. "Is that- is that my shirt?"

Immediately your face heats up and you glance down to see where his gaze has stopped. Grabbing the hem of the shirt and trying to lower it to cover your bare thighs, you nervously clear your throat. "You never asked for it back," you tell him. "You left your gym bag in my car for two weeks and I had to wash your rank ass clothes. I kept the shirt."

He slowly drags his eyes upward, eyes twinkling. "Looks good on you."

"Of course it does. I make everything look good."

You turn on the heel of your foot, gesturing for Billy to follow. He does. "Princess, please tell me you're wearing shorts. Because if you're not, I'm about to have a situation here."

Heather cackles from the kitchen and you roll your eyes even though he can't see it. "If you end up stiff, you're taking care of it in your car."

"You gonna give me a hand? Or a mouth?" He teases.

You snort. "Keep dreaming."

"Oh I will."

Heather dreamily sighs. "God I love when you two are like this," she says, gaze darting between you and Billy. "When you two finally come together, pun totally intended, it's going to be so explosive and I want all the nitty gritty details."

"As if," you say, the same time Billy says, "You got it."

Your friend giggles as she readily takes down plates and glasses from the cabinets. You turn to grab some Cola from the fridge and then head to take a seat at the table. Heather nudges you towards the chair that's closest to Billy and you huff a laugh but accept your fate nonetheless, crossing one leg over the other.

Heather quickly dishes out her food, she then passing you the containers. You dish yourself up some beef teriyaki and fried rice, absentmindedly dishing up the same for Billy while also adding two egg rolls to his plate. Heather coos, you blush, and then blush even harder when Billy slots his left hand between your pressed thighs underneath the table. Your instincts tell you to tell him to remove his hand, but the touch is innocent enough and you bite your tongue. It's as if he's warming his hand between your thighs like you absentmindedly do when your hands get too cold.

Laughter and chatter is shared throughout dinner, you filling them in on your day without them and they each sharing their bogus reasons for skipping school. Unknowingly you started eating with only your right hand and your left hand slipped under the table to join Billy's. You realized a moment too late that you were playing with his fingers, and when you tensed he chose that moment to squeeze your thigh.

You squeak and nearly fall out of your chair, and Heather stares suspiciously between the two of you. "What is going on?"

"Nothing," you tell her.

Billy grins. "I think I just found Y/N's ticklish spot."

You scowl as Heather's gaze drops, a smirk slowly forming. "You found the spot above her knee, huh? There's another spot on the back of her neck. Squeeze there and she drops like a sack of potatoes."

"Heather!" Your eyes widen. "You traitorous bitch." Billy reaches slowly for the back of your neck and you're quick to duck and swat at his hand. "Don't even think about it."

After a quick clean-up of the kitchen, Billy ends up staying a little while longer. The three of you wind up in the living room, MTV playing in the background as Heather playfully riles things up between you and Billy. Eventually though he has to leave and Heather informs you she's spending the night.

As you drag in the mattress from the spare bedroom into your own room, Heather showers to get ready for bed. You toss down extra pillows and a blanket, and then patiently wait for her to join you in your room.

With Cyndi Lauper playing on low, Heather paints her toenails as she asks, "So you and Billy, huh? It's about damn time you agreed to a date."

You sigh, painting your own toenails. "It's not a date."

"Are you sure?" She teases. Then a bit more seriously, she asks, "It's honest hour, Y/N. Do you really not want this to be a date?"

Taking a moment to think about it, you eventually put the polish brush back into it's bottle and meet your friend's gaze. "I like him. Okay?" She smiles. "But we've had this little back and forth going on for a while now, and it'd be weird for me to suddenly cave. I feel- I feel like once he's won, he'll walk soon after to the next girl playing hard to get."

"Oh sweetie," she coos. "Do you really not get that Billy likes you? He doesn't chase girls, Y/N. Girls chase him."

"But I-"

"Didn't chase him. Exactly," she muses. "You caught his attention. He wants you, not anyone else."

"I don't know, Heather."

"Trust me. If you're still not sure, dress casual for dinner. But if he flirts, you flirt back and see where it takes you."

You snort. "I'm pretty sure he'll try to take it to the backseat if I show the teensiest bit of interest."

"Nah. Hargrove's all talk. He'll only head in that direction if you're giving all the right signals. He'll tongue you for sure, but he'll wait for you to take the bigger steps."

You giggle, putting aside your nail polishes before falling back onto your pillows with a sigh. "Mr. California is going to be the death of me."

The following morning Heather helps you make some breakfast before cleaning up your room and helping you choose an outfit for dinner with Billy. She keeps it simple with some high waisted shorts, a black crop top with its sleeves rolled up, and a pair of Doc Martens. It's super casual, but also something that would do well for a first date.

Heather ends up leaving just after lunch and Billy calls you soon after. By his teasing and chuckling, you know he's excited for later that night. He won't tell you what he has planned, but he does give you a time to be ready by. So after some light cleaning, because your parents will be home the following night, you take a few hours nap before waking up to pamper yourself a little bit.

Dressed and now deciding whether or not you want to wear a jean jacket that's about two sizes too big, you opt to leave it on and leave it open when you hear the doorbell ring.

Practically bouncing down the steps, your amused smile falters when you open the door and see Billy's solemn expression. He actually looks really good- the boots, the tight jeans, the deep red shirt that's been unbuttoned down to the top of his stomach, and the black leather jacket. But instead of his usual sparkling eyes that you're used to, your heart falls at the sight of his defeated expression.

"Date's cancelled. Thought you'd like to know."

You frown. "What happened?"

"Max took off. Now I gotta track down the little shit and drag her home."

"Well maybe I can help. The sooner we find her, the sooner we can continue on with our night."

Billy weakly grins, hands digging into his pockets. "Our night, huh? Thought you'd be excited to get out of the date."

"What can I say? You've grown on me, Hargrove. Like a fungus."

That earns a chuckle, but still he's not his usual self like he is when you're hanging out. He looks you up and down, trying to figure out exactly what to do here, and he eventually sighs. "If you can stomach me turning on the charm for a few house moms, you got yourself a deal."

"Don't be gross." You step out onto the porch, shutting the door behind you. "I know the boys we usually see her with. I can easily direct you to where she could possibly be."

You brush past Billy, smirking, and hop down the porch stairs. He stomps down the stairs after you, chuckling as you climb into his car as if you belong there.

You first stop at the Henderson residence, you getting off alone. With Billy looking the way he is, you know for sure Ms. Henderson will attempt to keep him as long as possible. Luckily for you she's not really impressed with teen girls and tells you what you want to know right away. That the boys aren't there.

The Sinclair residence proves the boys aren't there either, but you still end up leaving with a smile when Billy gets roasted by the small pre-teen who had answered the door.

You figured it would be safe for Billy to get off at the Wheeler residence since Mrs. Wheeler is married, but you're proven wrong when she answers the door in her bathrobe and Billy's stance shifts. You can hear his flirtatious tone from the passenger seat of his car and have to bite your tongue when she leads him inside. He doesn't even spare you a glance as he follows after her and your heart twinges as he disappears. You're surprised at the sudden jealousy, but manage to remain cool for five minutes.

Eventually, you sigh and lean over towards the steering wheel to slam your hand on the horn. You let it blare for several long seconds before leaning back in your seat with a huff.

Seconds later the front door opens and Billy saunters out. He smirks at you, you flip him off, and then glower at Mrs. Wheeler who's watching with a frown from her door.

Her displeased expression at your appearance is so unwarranted that you're not really surprised your petty side jumps out. So just as Billy reaches the driver's side door, you can't help but slightly lean out the passenger window and shout, "How's the husband doing, Mrs. Wheeler?"

She smiles tightly in response, wraps her robe tighter around herself, lifts a hand in a stiff wave, and then re-enters her home. Billy laughs as he settles into his seat, slamming the door shut behind him. "Really, Y/N? Old lady Wheeler is what gets the jealousy stirring?"

"Fuck off, Hargrove, and drive. You figure out where the kids are yet?"

He smirks and then shrugs as he starts his car. "She said something about the Byers residence."

"Of course she did. Lets go."

The entire ride there Billy teases you about your now obvious dislike for Mrs. Wheeler and no amount of trying to explain why deterred him. You only disliked her because of her obvious flirting with a teenager while being married and not because she was a female flirting with the teenager you just so happened to have a crush on. Nope. Not. At. All.

But the moment you pull into the long driveway leading up to the Byers' house, all of Billy's amusement flees. Your grin falters as your gaze jumps between him and the somewhat familiar car sitting in front of the house, and you sigh. "I know you're pissed, but keep your shit straight. They're still kids, Billy."

His hand tightens on the steering wheel. "That's Harrington's car."

Well fuck. This won't end well.

Billy parks and lets his car idle for a few seconds before cutting the engine. In the silence, he pulls down a cigarette from his visor and lights up. Then placing the stick between his lips, he inhales deeply as the tip of his cig burns bright in the dark. The front door to the house opens and out steps Steve Harrington, and you're quick to exit the passenger side door as Billy angrily exits his side.

"Is that you, Harrington?" He asks, falsely amused.

"Yeah. Don't cream yourself."

You snort as you come to rest against the front end of Billy's car, shrugging when he glares at you and mumbles about you being a traitor. He then turns his attention back to Steve. You listen as they go back and forth, Billy asking about the whereabouts of his little sister and Steve denying having seen her.

Billy continues to call Steve a creep for hanging out with young boys, Steve continues to weakly defend himself, and your attention is dragged towards the house windows when you see the curtain move. Several small heads pop up to peer outside, Max included, and you cringe. You glance at Billy, hoping he hadn't seen, but when the kids all drop you know it was because Billy had seen them. And sure enough, when he points them out and Steve groans, you know the night's just taken a turn for the worse.

Billy stomps past Steve and you push off his car to follow. "Goddammit, Steve, why didn't you just admit to her being here?"

"And let him kill her? No thanks." He says, keeping pace with you.

"Fuck off, Harrington. When you saw me with him, you should have admitted she was here. Do you really think I'd let him hurt her?"

There's a shout, a couple girlish screams, and glass breaking. You swear and rush inside with Steve on your heels, only to run into pure chaos.

Billy threatens Lucas Sinclair and Steve rushes to save him. Steve throws the first punch and the room erupts with screams and shouts for Steve to beat the shit out of Billy. The boys immediately draw blood and instead of shouting at Billy to cool it, because there's no way he'll calm down now, you keep an eye on the other kids. When Billy dazes Steve, he angrily turns back towards Lucas and you rush to jump between them.

"Don't even think about it, Hargrove!" You tell him, hands planted on his chest. "He's a kid." His nostrils flare in anger, but you stand your ground.

Instead Billy focuses on Steve once more and you glance over your shoulder to nod in reassurance at the kids who are staring at you in surprise.

The fight quickly turns brutal and even you join in with the kids, shouting at Billy to stop when he leans over Steve to pummel him. But Billy's not listening to anyone and you're soon distracted by Max when you see her rush towards something on the floor and bend over to pick it up. You see her stare at a syringe now in her hand before she glances at Billy, and when you see the determination in her eyes you move.

"Max, don't!" You lunge towards Billy and shove your hand to shield the side of his neck, crying out when the needle is sloppily shoved deep into your forearm. Your cry draws Billy's attention, every one of the rioting boys quiet down, and Max's eyes widen. You stumble back, empty syringe stuck into your arm, and you hastily pull it out to toss aside. "What the ffuu-" You slur.

"I-I'm sorry!" She stammers. "I didn't mean-

The room swims before your very eyes and you trip over a piece of broken furniture. You flinch at every kid that tries to reach out to steady you, so Billy rushes forward and gently grabs you by the arms. You squeak, but he gently shushes you, and you have to flutter your eyelids just to properly focus your gaze. Staring up at him as he comes into focus, you take note of his worried expression and bleeding nose. "B-Billy?"

He nods before glancing over his shoulder. "Max, what the fuck did you give her?!"

"I-It was a tranquilizer! It was meant for you," she admits. "But she put her arm in the way."

The room spins again and you whine, squeezing your eyes shut. "Make it stop. Please make it stop."

"Guys!" One of the kids shouts. "We don't have time for this. We need to go!"

"Go how? Steve's down for the count," someone else says, "and we don't all fit in his car."

For some reason the tip of Billy's nose catches your attention and you can't help but boop it with a giggle. "Billy's got a car," you muse.

He swats at your hand. "Like hell I'm gonna drive these crotch goblins anywhere."

You poke his chin, giggling when he catches your hand. "Come on, babe. Let's go on an adventure!" You say excitedly right before your world goes dark.

When Y/N's body goes limp, Billy takes her full weight into his arm. He gently taps her cheek. "Y/N? Y/N!" When he gets no answer, he glances up and glares at Max.

She's quick to hold her hands up in surrender. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to drug your girlfriend, but we really do need a ride. It's a life or death situation."

"Max!"

"What? He needs to know, Mike! We're not going to save anyone if we don't find a ride there and we can't exactly steal his car with him still conscious!"

Billy stares down at Y/N, then back at Max. His frustration is at its peak, but with Y/N passed out in his arms there's nothing he can do about it. The annoying kids are all staring at him, sans one who's now helping Steve to his feet, and he groans. "Fine. But you're explaining what the hell is going on, on the way there, Max. And all your little friends are riding in Harrington's car. You're with me and Y/N to make sure she doesn't choke on her own vomit."

"Fine. Whatever."

"Fine. Lets go!"

It's a complete clusterfuck just getting to the cars, the young boys struggling to get Steve moving. He's in no shape to drive, so Billy yells at them to get their shit together and pick a driver. Mike reluctantly gets into the driver's seat as they shove Steve into the back with Lucas and Billy gently shoves Y/N into the backseat of his own car with Max.

As they get on the road, Billy sighs at the shitty driving skills the kid is displaying in front of him, but follows nonetheless.

"Alright. Explain." Billy stares at Max through the rearview mirror and watches as she mentally prepares what she's going to say.

"You're not going to believe me," she starts with. "I didn't believe it until I witnessed some things first hand."

"Max," he grits out. "Tell me."

"Okay, so basically monsters are real," Max blurts. Billy says nothing, but his hands do tighten around the steering wheel. "There was some laboratory in town that was super into child experimentation and one of these experiments had powers that opened up a door to another dimension." Billy scoffs. "It's true," she glares. "A monster escaped and kidnapped Will Byers. They presumed him dead, but he was actually alive. The laboratory faked his death so they didn't have to admit what they were doing, but his mom and Chief Hopper saved him. He's possessed now which is why we're going to an opening we know about to cause a distraction while they save Will and shut the dimension door once and for all."

There's a tense moment of silence before Billy says, "Are you guys stoned? What the fuck, Max?"

She groans. "I told you, you wouldn't believe me!"

"Are you even hearing yourself right now?! What the hell did they drag you into?"

"Billy, I'm telling you the truth." Max meets his stare in the mirror, eyes pleading. "Just please follow them. I need to help and you don't even have to get off the car. We'll do all the work."

"Whatever," he grumbles. "But after all this shit is done and over with, you're gonna be on your best behavior for the next several months. I don't need Neil on my ass about babysitting you anymore."

"Fine. Deal. Whatever."

Billy's annoyed when he has to drive his baby through a goddamn pumpkin patch and then even more annoyed with the rotted smell after they park. The kids and Harrington all readily climb out of the car, and he warns Max to not die because he's not taking the blame for that shit. He watches as they produce swimming goggles, bandanas, ropes, and gloves. Flashlights are handed out, as well as canisters of what he presumes is gasoline.

"What the fuck," he mutters. Sighing, he glances at Y/N still passed out in the backseat and seeing that she's not going anywhere anytime soon he decides to get out of his car. So with his headlights left on and shining towards the same spot Steve left his headlights shining on, Billy gets out and stomps around towards the group. "Yo, dipshits! What the hell are you doing with those gas cans?"

In the midst of tying their makeshift masks around their faces, everyone glances at Billy before staring at Max. She groans and addresses her stepbrother. "It's called the Upside Down- the place where the monsters come from. Their world started leaking into ours and there's an opening over there in the patch," she says while pointing. "We're going to go in and torch it."

Off in the distance there's a roar of an animal that Billy has never heard before. The headlights to the two vehicles flicker before cutting out and flashlights get turned on. But even then the flashlights flicker too.

"If we're going to do this, we're doing it now," Steve says.

Billy follows the group towards the rotted out pumpkin patch and watches them secure a rope before tossing the rest of the length down the hole. One by one they jump down and before Max can take her turn, he grabs her by the arm. "Don't die, dipshit."

She huffs. "Sure thing, asshole."

Steve is the last to go, but before he goes down he looks at Billy. "I'll, uh, I'll keep an eye on her."

"You better, pretty boy. If she gets hurt, I'm coming after you."

Steve's eyes widen before he lowers the ridiculous goggles to shield his eyes and then jumps down. Billy walks over to the ledge, frowning down into the hole. The kids must get further from the entrance because the small beams of light soon disappear and with no way to see he heads back to his car.

As soon as he opens up the driver's side door, Billy yanks the seat forward and climbs into the back with Y/N.

Shifting in your seat, your eyes flutter open and you're momentarily confused with the near darkness that greets you. "Where-" You utter, cutting yourself off and gulping. Your mouth feels a little dry and your tongue feels heavy. "What's going on?"

"Hey. Shh." Turning to the side and squinting, you can make out Billy's features. His hands gently cup your face and you flinch the touch. "It's okay. You're alright."

"Billy?" You let your eyes close, head aching. "Where are we?"

"In the backseat of my car in the middle of some field with rotted pumpkins."

You whimper softly. "The backseat of your car? I told Heather I wouldn't be that girl."

Billy chuckles. "Relax, Princess. You were drugged. I'm not in the business of taking advantage of girls."

"Drugged?" Bits and pieces of earlier that night comes to you and you sit up a little in your seat. "Max was going to stab you!"

"Relax." He tugs you into his side, draping an arm around you and keeping you pressed against him. "Max had her reason for wanting to knock me out. I did a serious number on Harrington back at the house."

Your brow furrows the more you try to recall. You groan quietly and press your face into Billy's chest. "I feel like I should tell you something for fighting, but I'm just so tired."

"Go to sleep, Y/N. You can scold me later."

"Okay. Just one question." He hums and waits for you to continue. "What the fuck are we doing in the middle of a field?"

Billy's sudden laugh startles you and you pinch him in retaliation. "That's a story for when you're less loopy. It's pretty unbelievable and I'm still not sure I believe it myself."

"Okay. If you say so, Bobby."

"Jesus Christ," he sighs. "Go back to sleep."

You lose track of time over the rest of the weekend, barely keeping yourself focused during phone calls with Billy, Heather, and Jonathan Byers since he was pretty close to the situation going on that led the kids to acting crazy and Max drugging you. Your parents are in and out of your room, but they leave you alone thinking you'd caught a very mild case of the flu.

One morning you wake up to the smell of something cooking and stumble your way out of the room, heading towards the kitchen. You rub at your eyes, yawning and stretching carefully since you're aching in several places, and blink in confusion at the sight of your mom cooking.

"Mom?" You frown. "What are you doing home?"

"Hmm. Oh, honey," she smiles. "Your father pushed his trip back a couple of days to make sure you were feeling well before we left again."

"Oh. Well thanks, but I'm actually feeling pretty good. I'm just really tired," you tell her with yet another yawn. She smiles at you and your gaze is then drawn towards a vase holding three sunflowers. "Dad forget an important day?" You ask. "He rarely buys flowers unless he's in trouble."

Your mom laughs. "No, those are yours. Some young girl brought them over last night and when we told her you were feeling a bit unwell, she said to tell you that she apologizes for ruining your date."

Max. Max had brought you flowers because she had ruined what would have been your first date with Billy. And speaking of Billy, the memories of that night rush to the forefront of your mind and you can't help but smile at how adoringly attentive he had been when you were out of your mind in the backseat of his car. You even remember him driving you home and helping you upstairs before he tucking you into bed while Max had gotten you a glass of water and some Tylenol.

Your mom suddenly clears her throat and at her smug little grin, your cheeks heat up. "Don't make it weird. It's just Billy."

"The boy who's been chasing you for the past several months? That Billy?"

"Yep." You head towards the flowers, delicately running your fingers over them and huffing a short laugh. "That girl that dropped these off is Max, his step sister. She kind of took off without letting their parents know she was leaving and Billy had to search for her."

"Oh. Well it was kind of her to apologize."

"Yeah. Yeah it was." As you're staring at the flowers, it suddenly hits you that you really want to see Billy. Plus it's also a weekday and you should be getting ready for school. "Well I'm gonna go shower and get ready. Don't wanna be late for class."

"Y/N." You turn towards your mom before you can make an escape and she frowns at you. "It's about to be lunch time, sweetheart. You've already missed your morning classes."

"What?" Your heart skips a beat. Looking out the window, you're surprised you hadn't realized just how bright it was. "Crap."

"You slept through your alarm so I figured you weren't feeling well."

"It's- it's fine. I'm just gonna freshen up and make a quick appearance at school."

You're in a rush to get back to your room that you barely hear your mom call out, "Tell Billy I say hello," with laughter lacing her tone.

          ----------

Twenty minutes later you're pulling into the school parking lot with only a handful of minutes left to spare in the lunch period. Billy is easy to spot, a gaggle of his usual fans surrounding the front of his car as Heather sits on the hood next to him and glares at all the simpering messes.

You park nearby, cutting the engine and slamming your door shut as you climb out. Everyone turns to stare at you, but you only have eyes for the smoking moron who pushes himself off his car to stand tall as you approach.

You pass up one car and then two, and then, "Nice house shoes," Steve muses from his perch on Jonathan Byers' car.

"Eat my ass, Harrington." Jonathan snorts and you barely give Steve and his affronted expression a brief grin as Nancy giggles from Jonathan's side.

Continuing on your path towards Billy, a few girls give up upon seeing you and move on while others stand their ground. You have no problem shoving between them all to get to your friend and Billy tosses down his cigarette when he sees you're on a mission.

"Well, well, well. It looks like Sleeping Beauty finally-" You grab him by the lapels of his jean jacket and pull him down so you don't have to tiptoe in order to kiss him. He tenses momentarily and someone wolf whistles, Heather most likely, while others grumble and others mutter slurs beneath their breath before stomping off.

But almost as soon as he tenses, he relaxes and his hands slide down to grip your hips. With his mouth still connected to yours and teeth nipping, Billy turns you and readily lifts you onto the hood of his car as he steps between your knees.

"Goddamn. Finally!" Heather gushes.

Her words manage to pierce through the lustful fog in your brain and you pull back from Billy, laughing. You shake your head at her as she wiggles her eyebrows and swat at Billy's hands as his fingers trail down your thighs.

"Uh, excuse you," someone scoffs. "We were talking."

Heather's smile drops as her gaze immediately darts to the girl who dared speak up and you turn to slowly meet the annoyed girl's stare. You smile. "You're excused, Natalie."

"It's Natasha."

"Did I stutter?" Billy snorts as he leans forward, dropping his forehead on your shoulder. "Move along, Natalie. Your presence is no longer required."

The bell ringing has the crowd slowly dispersing in order to get back to class, but you, Billy, and Heather remain rooted right where you're at.

When the shuffling of feet or petty remarks can no longer be heard, Billy lifts his head. "Not that I'm complaining, but what brought this on?"

"Saturday night was a total shitshow," you say, your hands tugging at the lapels of his jacket before smoothing them down and then sliding around to clasp at the back of his neck, "but something definitely shifted after your step-sister drugged me."

"She did what?!" Heather practically shouts.

Billy chuckles but doesn't say anything and a feeling of uncertainty washes over you. You sigh. "This is weird, isn't it?"

"No. Definitely not," he's quick to reply. "You just caught me off guard, but I'm totally into it."

"Of course you are. You're into anything if it means you're going to get laid."

"Am I?" He asks, right eyebrow raising. "Going to get laid?" He then clarifies.

You roll your eyes. "Maybe. We'll play it by ear."

"Uhh.. excuse me!?" Heather says, gaze ping-ponging between you and Billy. "Is anyone going to explain? Why the hell were you drugged?!"

You and Billy laugh as you meet her surprised expression. "Oh, Heather. There's so much more to Hawkins that we have to teach you."

"But not right now," Billy says. His hands hook beneath your knees as he drags you towards the edge of his car and you readily wrap your legs around his waist as he lifts you up. "Y/N and I are going somewhere quieter to talk."

"Mhm. I'm sure you are." Heather hops off the hood and starts to slowly walk backwards toward the school.

"And you," you say while tossing her your keys, "are going to take my car after school. I'll get it from you later."

"Jesus. If I'd known you would be this nice, I'd have encouraged Billy to get into your pants a lot sooner."

"Eat me, Holloway."

"That's Billy's job, Y/L/N." With that she turns on her heel and skips away.

Billy snorts as he spots your cheeks flaming, but you pinch the side of his neck before pecking his lips and then letting your legs drop so you can stand on your own two feet once more. He chuckles as he watches you walk around to the passenger side of his car and you waste no time settling inside. As he then moves to take his place behind the wheel, you can't help but think about how exhilarating this all is. You've known he was attractive from the moment you saw him, but you made him your friend before pursuing any type of relationship with him.

So now as you sit in his passenger seat like you have been for several months, you can't help but feel a bout of nervousness as he reaches across the seat and offers you his right hand. You grab it and then bite back a giggle as he laces your fingers together.

"So my place or yours?"

"Yours. Definitely yours."

[argumentl]

The Freedom of Expression Ep 22 - Soba restaurant Hosojimaya.

J: Um, its a programme edition of The Freedom of Expression, right here?

K: Yes, we're finally on location, kinda.

J: We're finally on location. So this place has been recommend on local area tv shows before. I'd like us to pay a visit to that restaurant.

K: Not that one!?

J: The one and only..you can see the sign. I can't say that I come here every week, but I come at least twice a month. I've lived nearby here for 15 years, so I must have come here about 150 times.

K: You really have been coming here, havn't you?

J: I have. Can you see the sign? It says 'Soba restaurant Hosojimaya'. Today we will try out the legendary Hosojimaya. *clapping* Thank you. *Kaoru gets some hand sanitizer* Oh, please do that, please do that. Ok, Kaoru, can you go in first.

T: The door says 'hand operated'.

J: So, what do you think after getting inside? It really has the atmosphere of a soba restaurant, doesn't it? Ah, here's the menu. Well, its a soba restaurant, so of course it has many types of delicious soba noodles, but the thing I always order is on the in-house special menu. Here it is, Half curry with chinese style soba noodles. Its a small size curry rice with, well, we would call it ramen. Once you try this, you won't be able to stop..its so...Can you smell that good smell?

K: Yeah, I can.

J: Well, we can't convey the smell to the viewers...I mean, everything on the menu is delicious, but I generally go for this.

*sitting down at table*

What shall we do, shall we go for Half curry with chinese style soba noodles?

K: Yes, I will.

J: Will you? Shall we talk about stuff while eating it?

T: Because I revere Fujii sensei so much, I'd like to try the Katsu curry with raw onion that Fujii sensei ate, if they can do it.

J: Oh, you're gonna go for that? So shall we order? Im certainly going for Half curry/chinese soba. Won't you feel like eating it when you see it?

T:...

K: Hahaha

T: Ahh, what should I do?! I can only look forward to that. Thats all I can do.

J: You can only look forward to it? Well, actually, the operating hours for this place are already over for today, but I asked especially for them to open for us.

T: Ah, thank you so much.

J: Ok, well..Excuse me, can we order please.

T: Please.

J: *Gesturing to himself and Kaoru* Us two will have Half curry/Chinese soba. And, sorry, but one of us would like to have something different...*gestures to Tasai*

T: Can you do the Katsu curry with raw onion that Fujii sensei ate? You can?! Thank you! I'm so happy.

J: *To staff* How long has this place been operating? *To K, T* He's the third generation.

Staff: Probably 43 years.

J: 43 years?

T: Do you really come here, Joe?

J: *To staff* No, no, I do come here a lot, don't I!?

Staff: Yeh, he's been coming here since before I started to work here.

J: See!

T: You weren't lying!

J: I wasn't!

K: If you were lying to would be pretty risky to take it this far.

J: It would be! Like I said on this show before, this place is near the Shogi Hall, and a lot of Shogi players come here, but thats not the reason I first came here. I can't really remember why. I mean, I live near here...but, even if you just look at it from outside, it looks nice doesn't it? You can't lose with this type of place. Well, today, if you eat this and don't find it delicious, I will shave my head!

T: Really?!

J: Haha, not really, I just wanted to see your reaction. I saw a sparkle in Kaoru's eyes. Well, if anyone comes here and asks for half curry/chinese soba which Joe Yokomizu recommends, just be aware that it does sometimes sell out. What time does the restaurant stay open till? Lunch time is until about 2:00 or 2:30. And then in the evening they open from about 17:00..but it does sell out quite quickly, so rather than getting here just before closing time, do try to come with a bit of time to spare. The fact that its far from the station is perhaps what makes it seem like a gourmet place. Its not like a so-called famous restaurant in front of the train station.

T: I see

J: Restaurants in front of the station get a lot of chance customers, its less about the taste, and more about the convenience. Like, the food comes out quickly and stuff. Thats a possiblity with that type of place, but a restaurant thats far from the station has to get more local customers, and a lot of repeat customers, so if the food doesn't taste good they won't be able to....I'm talking a lot today, aren't I?

K: You are. But, if you didn't talk...

J: Yeh, Im the only one who's talking. But after you eat, we'll get your reactions. I'll keep trying until then. Well, today we are gonna have the half curry, but here in Sendagaya - Jingu mae, it is said to be a curry battleground. There are a lot of delicious curry restaurants. But Hosojimaya's curry is a soba restaurant's curry, so its less spicy than some of the others, but its delicious. *To Kaoru* Do you like curry?

K: Yes..I grew mold in it once before though.

T: Oh, yeh.

J: Ah, you said, that legendary curry. Um, Hosojimaya's curry has a bit of meat in it, but not big pieces, just enough that you can pair it with either noodles or fried culet, and it won't get in the way. Ahh, my mouth is starting to water.

K: Haha.

J: Actually, because we're on location today, I've not eaten since last night.

T: Me too.

K: Yeh, I was told to come hungry too.

J: Ahh, this is great.

T: Its a gourmet report. *1

K: Its the first time I've done this.

J: Dir en grey doing gourmet reports doesn't  usually happen, right.

K: It doesn't. Its the first time for me.

T: So this is gonna be quite rare footage.

J: Yes! You know, doing food reports is surprisingly difficult.

K: Really?

J: You always end up saying 'Yummy!'

K: *laughing* I don't know if I'll say that.

J: Ah, the food is here!

K: That was quick.

J: Kaoru, yours first. What do you think?

K: Wow, looks great! You can tell just by looking at it.

J: Right?! Its a winner.

T: Amazing

J: Half curry/Chinese soba is here.

K: I'll start with the soup.

T: Ahh, looks so good.

J: How is it? I love this so much. Its here! Look at these soba!

K: Ahh, your curry is here!

T: This is man's food!

J: I'll get katsu curry later. Oh, Kaoru! You started eating?

T: Fujii sensei ate this?

J: He did...Yummy...Yummy. How is it?

K: Mmm, delicious.

J: This must be tough for people watching, thier mouths will be watering. This has a lot of extras in it, ???*2, also pork, it has tonnes. How is the Katsu curry?

T: Delicious.

J: I bet it is. Fujii sensei...

T: The portion is big.

J: Yeah.

T: When I eat this and think of the shogi players, its kinda moving.

K: Shogi players won't be able to concentrate*3 if they are hungry.

J: Right. Ah, Kaoru tried the curry!

K: Ah!

J: He said 'Ah'. How is it?

K: Delicious.

J: We can see that, haha. At our age, we don't often eat carbs with carbs, do we?

K: Right.

J: So this is a good chance, if you come here.

This curry is still really nice even after its cooled down...

.....Look, Camerman, Kaoru has finished. That was quick! He's faster than me. Kaoru is finished!

K: I enjoyed that, thank you.

J: A word from you Kaoru, now that you've finished?

K: Yummy.

J, T: Hahaha.

J: You said it!

T: We got there in the end.

J: If we use other peoples' catchphrases too much, ????. That was simple.

J: ???

T: He's good at pretending *4

J: Scary! Ahhhh, that was delicious!

K: Yeah, but..

J: Ahh, the soup?

K: Yeh, the soup, and the onions, I want to rake them up all into one spoon.

J: Hahaha...So, that was Hosojimaya. Look, here's the menu, there are a lot more things on the menu.

K: Its difficult to know what to choose.

J: By the way, the Katsu curry is 980yen. And the Half curry/chinese noodles that we had is 1250yen. Opening hours on Sat are till 2:30pm. Its closed on Modays and public holidays.  From 3:00pm to 5:30pm its closed for preparations. Open from 5:30pm onwards. The address is Shibuya ward, Sendagaya, 2-29-8, Hosojimaya. Tel: 30400921

T: Joe, you don't need to go that far.

J: No, just in case people want to contact. Well you can find the details on Tabelog.

T: Kaoru, would you like to say a final word?

K: Gochisousamadeshita/I enjoyed this meal. Im blissfully full. If you are nearby, please come here to try it out, and say Joe recommended it, right?

J: Yes.

K: Gochisousamadeshita.

J: Gochisousamadeshita.

T: Gochisousamadeshita. It was yummy!

J: Yummy!

*1, 3 Couldn't clearly hear, but I think thats the gist.

* 2 Couldn't catch, some ramen ingredient. 

*4 This exchange I couldn't make out explicitly, but they are talking about the phase 'まいう~\maiuuu', which is a phrase used by TV comedy personality Ishizuka Hidehiko when he does gourmet reports, and is a play on the word 'umai/delicious'. Also, how to translate that? Yummy?

[scullydubois]

Only the Light Ch. 4

Description: Missy and Scully’s girls night gets interrupted by an uninvited guest.

Read on Ao3 here. Tagging @today-in-fic​.

A long--and fun!--part. Hope you enjoy!

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

The elevator doors part, releasing Scully into the tranquility of her hallway. She steps out, glad to be away from the bustling FBI building and the noisy street and the elevator so squeaky that she’s pretty sure she’ll find herself trapped in it one of these days. That’s a problem for another time. For now, all Scully wants is to take off her shoes, pantyhose, and bra. The simple pleasures.

She sticks her key in the doorknob and turns. The deadbolt clicks. She’s locked it. She sighs. Missy left the door unlocked again. She twists the key the other way and it opens. She enters and drops the key, her purse, and her badge on the side table.

“It’s me!” Her voice echoes through the place.

“I’m in here,” Missy responds from the kitchen.

Scully enters the kitchen. Her sister’s still in the hostess uniform for the restaurant job she just got. She flips mindlessly through an issue of Better Homes and Garden.

“You left the door unlocked again.”

Missy flips a page of the magazine so hard she almost tears it. “Oops.” 

Scully sighs and sits down at the table. Her sister has always been the dramatic type.

“How was training?” she offers.

Missy sets down the magazine as if she’s thankful to have an out.

“Pretty standard for an upscale eatery that calls itself casual but charges twenty dollars for a bowl of soup. Turns out, the East Coast isn’t actually that different from the West Coast.”

“Wow. Who’ve thought?”

Missy chuckles. “I know, right?”

“Speaking of the West Coast…”

Melissa groans. Her sister’s been trying to get information about her whereabouts ever since she moved in. She’s under the impression that everyone’s life is as interesting as working for the FBI, and while Melissa tries to make hers so, there’s just not much to report. Except for the one thing she’s specifically avoiding. She will tell Dana at some point, she has to, but for now she doesn’t want to add to the cacophony of things her sister has to worry about. Besides, it’s not anything bad. If anything, Melissa is looking forward to telling her. It’s their mother she’s worried about.

“I told you, it’s nothing juicy. I was out there doing odd jobs. Waitressing, mostly. There was a stint as a gas station attendant.”

Scully laughs. “A gas station attendant?”

“In Oregon you’re not allowed to pump your own gas.”

Scully raises her eyebrows. “Seems like it wouldn’t be a very safe job for a young woman late at night.”

Missy shrugs, then, with the dedication of an Oscar-winning actress, says, “It was a male dominated profession, but I made do.”

Scully smiles. She knows the feeling. She steps out of her heels and carries them into her bedroom. She shimmies off her pantyhose, then sits on the edge of the bed and presses her thumbs deep into the arches of her feet. Heaven. After a moment of bliss, she takes a pair of pink fuzzy socks from her drawer and slips them on.

She returns to the kitchen--“Have you had dinner?” 

“Just a bowl of salad,” Missy replies. 

“Am I to assume by your pitiful tone that you’re up for something else?”

“If you order something and tell me I can have it, who am I to say no?”

Scully chuckles. “How courteous.”  She pulls out a drawer full of take-out menus in various conditions. Some of them Scully has had since her Academy days. 

“The ones on the top are Mexican, the middle is Chinese and Japanese, after that is Italian, and the bottom ones are Indian.” 

Few things that Dana has said have surprised Melissa as little as this organizational structure. What she doesn’t expect is the sheer volume of her sister’s collection. Her eyes widen as she approaches the drawer. There’s literally hundreds of menus stacked in there. 

“Um, may I ask for the chef’s recommendations?”

Scully pulls a couple menus out like it’s nothing.

“Well, if you’re in the mood for curry, this one is great,” she slides a colorful menu toward Missy. “But this is the best Chinese takeout in the city.” She sets down a menu with the Chinese symbols for good fortune on it (yes, Missy knows some Chinese). Missy figures they could both use some good fortune, so she picks up that one.

“Do they have hot & sour soup?”

“I’m sure. I always have the fried rice and orange chicken.”

“Oh, that sounds good too. Can we do a bowl of hot & sour soup and two portions of rice with orange chicken?”

Scully picks up the phone. “Of course.” She dials the number from the menu. As it’s ringing, Missy whispers, “And fortune cookies?”

“They always give you some. They’re not very goo-” The restaurant picks up. A fast-talking voice buzzes in Scully’s ear. 

Melissa laughs at this slip. As her sister’s about to recite the order, she adds, “I don’t care, I just want to read them.”

Scully tells the woman the order, confirms that it’ll come with fortune cookies, and gives them her address and unit number. She thanks the woman, hangs up the phone.

“It’ll be 25 minutes,” she tells Missy.

“Perfect.” Scully can tell from the sound of her voice that she’s up to no good. 

“Perfect for whatever villainous plot you’re about to drag me into, you mean?”

“Perfect for us to get ready for the girl’s night we’re about to have,” she replies matter-of-factly. 

Scully opens her mouth to protest, but Missy beats her to it. “I know, I know. It’s Thursday, you have work tomorrow, you’re tired...but it doesn’t have to be anything grand. Just a little self-care and relaxation, okay?”

Scully frowns in her funny, ‘I’m not actually upset, I just can’t think of a good comeback’ way. 

“And besides,” Missy continues, “you don’t wanna be a party pooper, do you?”

Scully frowns for real this time. This unearths some childhood insecurities she had forgotten she had. It conjures up the image of teenaged Missy with a pack of cigarettes--their mother’s--begging her to sneak out the window and smoke them together, that it would be fun. How she said no until she couldn’t bear her sister’s juvenile belittling anymore. It figures that she has to be guilted into having fun. She bets that her parents would never have imagined that their little girl smoked a cigarette younger than their free-spirited daughter ever did.

“Come onnnnn,” Missy drawls. “We can get in our pajamas and slippers, and I have some avocado face masks we can do. Plus, I brought my box set of Golden Girls.”

Scully can’t help but smile at that. On nights before big exams in medical school, she would put Blanche, Dorothy, Sophia, and Rose on in the background to keep her company as she studied. She called it her golden good luck charm because she passed every test she did this with. 

“Fine.”

Fine. The Dana stamp of approval! Missy leaps into action. “Go get dressed, and I’ll grab the face masks.”

Scully does as she’s told (per usual). She chooses her silkiest pajama set because this feels like an occasion to go all out. A few minutes later, she’s sitting on the couch letting Missy spread the avocado paste across her face. 

“Is this just mashed up avocado?” she asks. “Could we eat this?”

“I think there’s honey in it too.” Missy scraps a dot off where it spilled over to Scully’s headband and licks it. “Not bad...Are you that hungry?”

Scully chuckles. “No, I was just wondering.”

“Well, if it does to your insides what it does to your face, then watch out.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll pass on that,” Scully remarks.

“Good choice.” Missy finishes Scully’s face and turns so that Scully can do hers. Scully dips a finger into the green paste. It’s cold and sticky, not exactly a desirable combination.

“Do you do this a lot?” she asks Missy.

“Usually once a week, if I think of it.”

Scully wouldn’t have the time to think of it, let alone do it. “That’s nice,” she says wistfully, realizing there’s not much farther she can take the subject.

“I brew some tea, light some incense, and boom. My own personal nirvana.”

“Mmm.” Scully’s feeling increasingly isolated by this conversation. Missy reads her mind in the typical way.

“You don’t take much time for yourself.” It’s a statement, not a question.

 “I just don’t have much time in general,” Scully replies on the defensive.

“And you certainly don’t allot what you do have to yourself.”

Scully lifts her finger off Missy’s face, dips it back into the paste. “I take care of myself,” she says.

“But you don’t spoil yourself.”

“Who am I to be spoiled?” And there is the fundamental ideological difference between Missy and her sister. Missy, who wants life to be overflowing with joy, bereft of nothing. Dana, who believes that nothingness gives her strength, and strength gives her character.

The delivery man's knock on the door eclipses any response Melissa was planning to make. Probably for the best. This is the rift the sisters cannot manage to pave over.

Missy grabs the food and pays the man. She knows her sister would be embarrassed to be seen with the mask on, and she’ll do anything to make Dana’s life that much easier. 

They dig in, eating straight from the cartons. Missy insists on using chopsticks, which works great for the chicken but not so hot on the rice. She doesn’t bother trying them with the soup. Scully doesn’t have the patience for any of it, so she sticks to the plastic fork that came with it all.

Between bites of chicken, Scully reaches for a fortune cookie. Missy swipes it out of her hand, sending it catapulting toward the floor. 

“What was that for?” Scully exclaims.

“Haven’t you ever heard that it’s bad luck to read your fortune before you finish the meal?”

“No?”

“Well, that explains a lot then.”

Scully smirks, sets the cookie back on the table with the others. “I think you just wanted that one.”

Missy feigns innocence, then shrugs. “I have a good feeling about it.”

-----------

A few minutes later, the girls have settled on the couch, empty cartons of take-out strewn on the table in front of them. The four fortune cookies they received are all wrapped up. They’re too full to bother with them just yet. They chirp bits of commentary about the Golden Girls episode they’re watching back and forth between each other.

“I see some Blanche in you,” Scully comments, “but mostly I think you’re Rose.”

“She’s my favorite, so I will gladly accept that,” Missy replies.

The episode’s laugh track nearly conceals a slight rap on the door. 

Scully looks toward the door. “Did you hear something?” 

Missy clicks the volume down on the remote. “Maybe. I’ll check.”

She heads for the door,  peeks through the peephole, then unfastens the chain and lets the door swing on its hinges.

“It’s Mulder!” she exclaims after Mulder has already stepped through the doorway.

It is, in fact, Mulder. Still in his work clothes and holding a manila folder. His eyes widen in surprise.

“Oh. Melissa.”

She smiles slyly. Evidently, he did not expect her nor her face mask.

“Hello, Fox.”

Scully pulls her feet up onto the couch and crosses her arms protectively over her chest, hoping that somehow, maybe, he won’t notice her here in her own apartment. Her first thought is that she’s not wearing a bra. She realizes that this is an unproductive thought to have because it’s not like she’s naked or anything, she’s wearing a pajama top, and he’s seen her in a pajama top before. Hell, he saw her in her underwear on their first case! Not to mention that he’d seen her on her deathbed, and is there anything more naked than that? Still, she hadn’t expected him, and she feels caught off-guard by his sudden appearance. 

For what it’s worth, Mulder is caught off guard by her too. She looks...soft. Relaxed. He very rarely gets to see her in casual circumstances. Even in the assortment of motel rooms he’d sat with her in, she was always keyed up, her mind trying to piece together the puzzle of whatever case they were on. This was new territory. 

“Hi, Scully,” he croaks. 

“Hello,” she replies sheepishly. 

Mulder can’t take his eyes off her. He’s endeared by the green face mask and all of its components. The headband pulling tendrils of her hair tenderly away from her face, the stray locks that have slipped out and stuck to the paste, the extra youthful look it gives her...he never realized how much he missed out on. How much she keeps from him. Suddenly, he’s certain: the woman sitting on the couch isn't Scully. It’s Dana, and there's nothing he wants more than to get to know her better. 

Remembering what he’s there for, he holds the folder out to her. 

“Uh, I just came to give you these toxicology results. I thought you might want to review them before tomorrow.”

She takes the folder while keeping one arm stationed in front of her chest.

“Thank you. I will.”

She plops the folder with the mess on the coffee table and returns both arms to her chest.

Feeling like the intruder that--in Scully’s mind--he is, Mulder glances at the TV.

“Golden Girls. That’s serious business, I’ll get out of your hair.”

Melissa mutes the TV. “Actually, we were just discussing what Golden Girl we think we are. We agreed that I’m Rose, but we’re still trying to figure out Dana.”

This is a challenge Mulder is more than happy to accept. 

“Dana…” He looks at her with a lop-sided smile, letting the word roll off his tongue in a teasing way.

Scully blushes. Oh how she wishes her body would not so easily give her away. Figuring there’s nothing to lose, she takes this opportunity to catalogue the colors in his eyes. She has an ongoing debate with herself about what color they actually are. She’s seen green, brown, and blue with such certainty that she’s pretty sure he has the ability to change them like a mood ring. She’s not sure she would want to know what each color means. 

She decides that they’re looking quite green tonight (is that good?) and breaks eye contact with him out of necessity. Call it self-preservation.

This silent exchange pleases Melissa, maybe even more than it does Mulder. She loves being right as much as her sister does. 

“I was thinking she’s a Dorothy,” Melissa pipes up. “What do you think, Fox?”

He flinches. Melissa scoffs. “Sorry--Mulder. What is it with FBI agents and insisting on being called their last name? That’s got to be some sort of psychological phenomenon.” Then, because she can’t resist--“You should open a x-file on that.”

Scully chuckles. Mulder just purses his lips.

“Ha ha. Very funny.”

“I know,” Melissa claps back in jest. “That’s why I said it.”

Scully looks toward the window. She could have sworn she saw a flash of lightning outside, but no thunder follows it. When she looks back, Mulder’s eyes are trained on her once again. Yep, still green. He pushes some of the cartons aside and perches on the table in front of her and Missy. If Scully put her legs down, their knees would touch. 

“Dorothy is the obvious choice,” he says. “But that’s too easy. Scully’s not easy.”

Scully flicks her gaze toward Missy, who bites her lip to keep the sarcastic comment in her mind from slipping out. 

“So what is she then?” Melissa challenges.

Scully’s eyes meet Mulder’s. She’s not sure what he’ll say, and she’s not too worried about it. What matters is that she’s looking at him, he’s looking at her, and her skin feels like it’s been warmed by the sun. This is not a normal reaction to another human being looking at you, she knows. She made a pact with herself early on not to think too hard about it. It’s moments like this that make her question the point of that.

She feels sated...she so rarely feels that way. Realizing that there is nothing worth keeping from him, not right now, Scully lowers her hands into her lap.

Feeling like he’s done something right, Mulder smiles. He answers Missy’s question without taking his eyes off his partner. Scully’s burning up.

“Well, she’s smart but not pretentious, curious but not unconventional, reliable but not naive, honest but not a curmudgeon, and diligent but not intense...so I don’t know.”

He looks to Melissa. 

“Are any of the Golden Girls as interesting as that?”

Scully’s breath catches. This is quite possibly the most romantic moment of her whole life...What does that say about her? She lowers her feet so that her silk pajama bottoms nuzzle his coarse slacks. Call it a gesture of goodwill. Meanwhile, Mulder wonders if Scully notices that their kneecaps are touching.

Missy smiles. She’s engineered a moment, and what a wonderful one. 

“I suppose not,” she replies lightly. “Dana’s one of a kind.”

“That’s for sure.” Mulder clasps Scully’s hand, and for a second, she thinks he’s going to kiss it. His fingers slip away and grab a fortune cookie off the table instead.

He rips the plastic off it, then snaps it in half. He sets a half in Scully’s open palm as if on instinct. She didn’t even realize she had turned her hand up. Her fingers close over the cookie. She couldn’t possibly eat it now that he’d touched it. Or was that all the more reason to eat it?

Mulder pulls the paper from his half, pops the cookie in his mouth, and crunches as he reads the fortune. “Depart not from the path which fate has you assigned...huh.” He crumbles up the plastic and sticks it in his pocket. “Never seen that one before.”

“Me neither,” Scully remarks dreamily. Melissa looks on, feeling like she’s watching a movie play out in front of her.

Mulder rubs his hands against his pant legs to extend the moment, then stands up, bumping Scully as he does.

“Sorry,” he says, resting a hand on her shoulder. She shakes her head to indicate it’s nothing. “You’re fine.”

As she looks up at him, Mulder finds himself struck with the desire to swim in those blue eyes of hers. He knows that his feeling for Scully--whatever it is--is different from the girls on his magazines and tapes. His thoughts about Scully are somehow both innocent and ridiculously gratifying. His thoughts about the other girls are neither.

“Well, I’ll get going,” he says, stepping around Scully and Melissa’s feet. He turns back to meet Scully’s glance one last time--

“See you tomorrow morning.” He winks.

Scully is so charmed by this all she can muster up is, “Uh-huh.”

Missy bursts into laughter as soon as Mulder closes the door. Scully lets her. She looks down at her palm and realizes that she has put so much pressure on the fortune cookie that it crumbled. She won’t read into this either.

[spaceskam]

“What the fuck is that?”

“It’s bleach,” Alex laughed, mixing up the solution in the the little bowl, “Which you would know if you did any fucking research before you dyed your hair last time.”

Forrest pouted for all of two seconds before it slipped into his smile and he rolled his eyes. The color in his hair was starting to fade back into brown and he’d mentioned to Alex that he was going to redye it. Which would’ve been fine until he said the shitty routine he had for doing so. So now Alex had taken over and he honestly didn’t seem bothered by that.

“You sure you’re good with this towel being ruined just in case?” Alex asked as he turned to face him, gloves and bleach brush in hand. Forrest looked up at him with those fucking eyes and nodded.

“I don’t actually mind what you ruin,” Forrest said. Alex rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out at him, both men laughing as Alex started just putting the bleach on him.

It took awhile to saturate it enough because his hair was ridiculously thick, but he eventually did and peeled off his gloves before setting a timer. Alex pushed himself to sit on the counter in front him, giving Forrest a little smile as he braced his prosthetic against one of the drawers.

“We should get dinner after this,” Forrest said, reaching out to touch his bare thigh. It took awhile for him to get comfortable around Forrest, but now that he had, he was obsessed with the way he touched him. It was almost constant, always finding some excuse to touch him with his soft hands that had been smoothed with touching paper every day of his life. It felt like an incentive for Alex to walk around in nothing but briefs and a cropped t-shirt all day. It meant skin to skin contact whenever he wanted it. And he kind of wanted it always so that was a plus.

“Agreed,” Alex nodded, “Maybe we could order takeout?” 

“Are you gonna be too embarrassed by whatever you do to my hair?” Forrest teased, squeezing his thigh gently. Alex shook his head, extending his foot to rest on Forrest’s own thigh. 

“No, I think you’re gonna look hot as hell,” Alex promised, looking between his sweet face watching his hand slide down to grip his calf in a way that felt far too hot to be legal, “But I think I’d rather make-out on the couch than go out.”

“Oh yeah?” Forrest laughed, shaking his head before carefully pressing a kiss to Alex’s knee, “Well, at least you’re honest.”

“I am. I really, really am,” Alex insisted, both of them laughing a little harder as he said so, “But what do you want?”

“Mmm, Chinese food maybe? Lo mein sounds good,” Forrest said. Alex nodded, glancing over to the timer as Forrest continued to rub his leg.

“Can I get something else and then steal some of yours?” Alex asked, reluctantly pulling his leg away from his boyfriend so he could stand back up. Forrest watched him, hands to himself but ready to steady him if he needed it as he put his prosthetic on the ground. He didn’t, but he appreciated the sentiment.

“Absolutely,” Forrest said, “As long as you get something with friend rice.”

“Why would I not get something with fried rice? Do I look like an animal to you?” Alex asked as the timer went off. Forrest stood up from his chair. 

“Well, I mean, not right now.”

“Shut up,” Alex laughed, “Can you wash it out yourself or do you want me to try to help?”

“I got it.”

Alex stood in the doorway as Forrest hunched over the bathtub, using the removable shower head to spray it out. Alex liked looking at him even when he was all hunched over and trying not to get bleach in his eyes. He was warm and inviting and Alex didn’t think there was enough people like him.

Eventually, he stood back at and dried his hair in a half-assed way before he just shook it out like a dog. Alex scoffed as water got on him and swatted him in the stomach. Forrest caught it easily, pulling him a little closer and pressing a kiss to his lips. Alex breathed him in as he kissed back, smiling easily when they parted. 

“Sit down and I’ll get the blow dryer, okay?” Alex said. Forrest nodded, pressing one more kiss to his lips and then his cheek before doing as he was told. Alex felt that newly-familiar wash of being loved genuinely come over him at the small little moment and, instead of pushing it away, he let it sink into his bones and didn’t even try to hide his smile as he plugged in the blow dryer.

For the next ten minutes, Alex tried to dry his hair, continuously running his fingers through the newly bleached locks and being annoyed when it seemed to hold water like a sponge. His annoyance was bled away each time Forrest reached out for him, never pulling him closer since he was doing something, but just touching him because he could. That was nice.

“Stop it, that tickles,” Alex told him over the sound of the blow dryer as Forrest dragged his fingertips right above the hem of his briefs. So, Forrest listened, moving his fingers down a little bit more to trace over the seam of his underwear. Alex giggled, moving his hips just a little bit out of the way. “I’m never going to finish if you keep doing that.”

“Oh, I really think you will.”

“Get your mind out of the fucking gutter, Jesus,” Alex said, but he laughed harder and his face felt warm. His cheeks hurt from smiling. “Okay, it’s dry enough, time for the dye.”

It carried on like before, small touches being dispersed as he worked the bright blue dye into his bleached hair. Alex sat back on the counter after setting another timer to wait, smiling at him helplessly.

“Aren’t you excited to fully explore your young Manic Panic desires?” Alex asked. Forrest rolled his eyes with a laugh and pulled Alex’s good leg back into his lap. He pushed his thumb into the bottom of his foot, slowly started to massage it for no fucking reason. Alex shook his head. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Forrest said innocently, winking at him as if he didn’t look a little wild with the dye in his hair. Alex shook his head again and huffed a laugh, leaning his head back against the mirror as Forrest continued. “Does that feel good?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, rubbing this part of the foot is supposed to help your heart.”

Alex snorted, “Is there something wrong with my heart that I don’t know about?”

“No, just making sure it’s taken care of.”

“You’re so cheesy,” Alex laughed, but his stomach ached from the attention and his skin started heating up all over again. Forrest shrugged and pulled his foot up to his mouth, kissing the bottom without any hesitant. Alex laughed even louder. “Ew, that’s fucking gross!”

“What?” Forrest said, holding back his laughter as best he could, “My floors are clean.”

“Still,” Alex said, still shaking with laughter. Forrest rolled his eyes and didn’t let go of his leg as he got up and moved closer. He stepped between Alex’s knees, entering that space where he was more than welcome. “I am not kissing you after you kissed my foot.” 

“Fair enough,” Forrest agreed, carefully placing kissing on his shoulder over his shirt and then over his heart. He made sure not to angle it any type of way that he might get dye on Alex’s skin. Maybe Alex moved his head to the side to give him more space. Maybe Forrest noticed and that’s how he ended up kissing on his neck.

“Can you brush your teeth please because I’m going to lose my fucking mind,” Alex breathed, overwhelmed with the need to kiss him but really not interested in the idea of his own foot in his mouth. 

“So picky,” Forrest teased, tapping his index finger against Alex’s nose as he moved to the sink.

Alex sat, feeling a little restless at the lack of contact as Forrest did what he asked and made a point to wash the bottom half of his face for extra measure. He pulled him in for a kiss by his shirt before he could even dry his face off, kissing him. It was a little awkward, both of them trying not to get the dye in his hair on Alex, but it was hard when he just wanted to get his hands on him.

When the timer went off, they both groaned which made them both smile.

“Go wash it out,” Alex urged. Forrest hummed, giving him another peck before peeling away to go to the tub again. 

“I’m just gonna take a shower,” Forrest decided. Alex carefully pushed himself off the bathroom counter again.

“Can I watch?”

“Oh, and I’m the weird one,” Forrest laughed. Alex smiled his way and shrugged. “Go order food, I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Vegetable lo mein?” Alex clarified.

“Yes, please.”

Alex hung around just long enough to watch him strip before leaving him to stain the shower curtain with his hair. He used his phone to order them both food, relaxing on the couch as he waited for Forrest to finish up. The longer it took, the more antsy he got which simply had him smiling to himself so wide it hurt. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so unrelentingly happy with someone else that he felt clingy and it wasn’t even a problem. Forrest was the same way. That was something otherworldly.

“Okay, so, you may have been onto something with the bleach,” Forrest said as he came out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel. Alex gave him his full attention.

His hair was actually blue now, a few shades too light to be navy. It went to his roots and didn’t look like the shitty dye job he’d been rocking. It looked good. Alex stayed on the couch, smiling up at him as he came closer.

“It looks fucking great.”

“Yeah, I know I didn’t dry it or anything, but,” Forrest said, shrugging his shoulders.

“It still looks way better, I did a great job,” Alex bragged. Forrest didn’t even deny it.

“You really did, thank you.”

“No problem, now come here,” Alex said, reaching for him with grabby hands. Forrest gave him a fond look and blew him a kiss.

“Give me one second, I need to go get a pair of shorts so the delivery guy doesn’t get scared,” he said. Alex pouted a little exaggeratedly. “I’ll be right back.”

And he was. He all but ran to his bedroom and Alex laughed a little bit. Within a few seconds, he was running back out with a pair of shorts on and jumped onto the couch and onto Alex. Their laughter mixed in the air as they kissed, Alex pulling him as close as he could. He smelled good, his flowery shampoo and the scent of the dye making something just tasteful enough that Alex couldn’t get him close enough.

“Thank you,” Alex whispered against his lips.

“For what?”

“For making me happy,” he said honestly. Forrest smiled, bumping his nose against Alex’s.

“Thank you for doing the same.”

They had to apologize to the delivery guy who had to knock three times before they heard him.

[aberystwythboy]

Taron and Me

CHAPTER 16  Preparations

You decide to take some time off work, after last week.  You also start planning the wedding.   Taron has a few days off also.  His Mum decides to visitand spend a few days with you both and help with the preparations.   You welcome her with open arms, as you sit and tell her the event that unfolded last week at the theatre.  "Oh dear, that's terrible" with sincere sympathy.  "Taron took care of it" you say.  "That's my boy" as she smiles proudly. "What are you two on about?" as he enters the kitchen in nothing but boxers.  "Oh Taron, put some pants on boy" Christine remarks. You laugh at him as he gets into trouble from his Mum.  "Yes Mum" he muttered, returning to the bedroom stomping his feet like a child down the hallway.  "God he's cute" you say as you both burst out laughing and he returns with a smile on his face and a pair of pants on.

"So what's the plans today ladies?" Taron asks.  "We need to find a wedding dress" Christine replies.  "Ooh I'm off the hook for today, as he reaches for his phone to go out with his mates today.  "Oh, no you don't Taron" Christine remarks.  "We still need to choose dinnerware, and a cake."   "Already done" He grins looking at you both proudly.  "What do you mean?" you ask confused.  "Lindsay helped me choose last week" he answers. "Poor Lindsay, don't you think she does enough for you Taron?" Christine says, and you feel a little upset he did this without you.  You excuse yourself from the table to get dressed for the day.  Taron senses your not impressed and follows you to the bedroom, while Christine washes the cups and takes her bags to upack in the guestroom.

"I'm sorry, I did that with Lindsay baby, but after what happened last week with that creep, I thought I'd surprise you" lifting his phone to show you what the dinnerware and cake looked like.  "Oh baby thank you, the cake looks incredible" 3 tier of course, you do have good taste" you admit. "I'd like to taste you right about now" as he pulls you close, and latches onto your neck biting you softly.   "Mmm baby, your Mum's in the guestroom right next to ours" He releases you,  goes to the door and locks it.  Christine hears the lock click, and smirks as she pulls her novel out of her bag to read on the patio outside. He returns and grabs your ass lifting you up while wrapping your legs around his waist.   He presses your body against the wall behind you as he holds onto you with one arm, while pulling his pants down with the other.   You hiss as you feel his cock against your clothed core.  He rips your lace panties off swiftly and drops them to the floor.  His knuckles brush across your pussy.  "Hmm you're so ready for me aren't you baby? He growls into your ear.  "I need you inside me Taron" you whimper. His hand leaves from underneath your singlet as he grabs his cock and shoves it inside you...hard.  You scream with pleasure at the feeling of him filling you. He pounds into you hard and fast, moaning with every thrust.  The sound of his cries of pleasure almost send you over the edge. You arch your head back and he sucks on your neck.  You are breathing and moaning louder now as his legs start to tremble.   "Cum for me T" you cry, "Oh fuck.. oh godoh.. my.. fucking.. god" he yells as he squeezes the backs of your thighs, releasing his load still thrusting hard as you cum and your body tenses as your juices drip down his cock and thighs.

You unlock your feet from his back as he places you down. Both still quite out of breath.  "You're poor Mum" you say.   "At least she didn't see it this time" he laughs "I'd better get dressed, your Mum is waiting"  "So I'm off the hook today?, or I can come with you to see the dress you choose" raising his eyebrows. "No way Taron it's bad luck to see the dress before the wedding" slapping his arm.  "Yes, you're off the hook Taron" he fist pumps the air, rushing to find his car keys. "Don't get too drunk Taron, we are booking the band and you have to get fitted for your tuxedos with Bleddyn and Jack.   "I wont" he says kissing your cheek goodbye.  He finds his Mum outside engrossed in her book.  "You two can't keep your hands off each other" as she smiles looking up at Taron.   He blushes slightly, knowing full well she heard everything. "Ah shit, sorry Mum" Taron says.  "Don't be sorry because you love each other, I'm just glad your sisters aren't here, they'd need therapy" she laughs hysterically.  Taron bursting into laughter also.  "Well, bye Mum" as he bends down and kisses her cheek.  "Bye son, be safe."  

You and Christine, set off for a day of dress shopping, picking Jemma and Amanda up on the way.   You arrive at Phillipa Lepley's store on Fulham Road, London. She has an incredible reputation as a wedding dress designer.  As soon as you walk in, you choose the dress you want to become Mrs Egerton in.   It wasn't hard to find, it is the most incredible dress you've ever seen.  It's a couture, silk satin wedding dress with a tulle appliquied lace overlay, moulded over a Phillipa Lepley corset.  The intricate detailing of the dress was created with individual motifs of lace embroidery trickling over the dress.   Amanda, Christine and Jemma all shed a tear as you walk out of the dressing room.  "You are certainly a vision of beauty my dear" Christine sighs.   "Taron is a very lucky guy" Amanda says and Jemma has never seen her best friend look so elegant, as she wipes her tears of happiness.

You order Christine's maid of honour dress, and Jemma and Amanda's bridesmaids dresses as well, enjoying the champagne provided.   You move on to the florist choosing a bouquet of multi coloured roses scattered with baby's breath throughout each bouquet.   You feel quite tipsy as you are all shopped out, heading home.  Jemma and Amanda come back to your place, Bleddyn txt Jemma to let her know the boys have moved their drinking session back to the apartment.   "Hi gorgeous" Bleddyn says to Jemma, placing a kiss to her lips.  Jack stands awkwardly as he shifts over to let Amanda sit down next to him.   Taron stands and instantly giggles as he realises, you've been drinking.  "Hello my girl" as he embraces you in a hug.   You lace your arms around his neck.  "Hello lover" slurring slightly. "Fucking hell, how much as she had to drink?" Taron questions.  "Actually not that much" Jemma says, "but we didn't eat today at all"   he guides you to the seat and bends down kissing you full of lust.  So much so, everyone's is a tad uncomfortable and Christine excuses herself to have a nap after such a long day. "Ok Mum, I'll order some food soon.  "Love you Mum" he calls.  "Love you too son" as she bends down to kiss your cheek.   "You look after your girl Taron" she says.  "Always Mum" he replies.

Taron orders chinese for dinner as the evening has now turned to night.  You ask where Jack and Amanda have gone.   "They have gone for a walk" Jemma says. "Aww how cute" as you tuck into the Chinese food, now sober.   Christine emerges from the house and Taron jumps up to make his Mum up a plate of food.   "I'm so glad you're here Mum" he says, scooping fried rice onto her plate.   Taron never really loved another woman more than his Mother until he met you at drama school. A tiny 17 year old with zero confidence, and the world at your feet.  You look back at the two of them interacting, and smile lovingly.

You're  relationship is important with Taron's Mum , as you lost your own Mother to cancer when you were 15. It's just been you and your Dad, and he raised you the best he could.  "You ok sweetheart?" as Christine see's you wipe a tear.  "Yes Mum, I'm perfectly fine, just a little tired."   You love the feeling of having a mother figure in your life.  You haven't had this for quite a while.  You feel overwhelmed, as Taron asks if your ok?   "Yep, tired honey" as you look into his worried eyes. "How about I take you to bed?" as he grabs under your thighs and you drape your hands around his neck, you say goodnight to everyone. "Goodnight they all  yell out.  They all start to get up to leave and  Christine see's them all out.   Taron lays you down next to you and drapes his arm over your waist passing out.

[phcking-detective]

5. Bad Habits

Fic Title: First Blood

Rating: E

Length: 5/33 chapters, ~128k

Tags: Slow Burn, Idiots to Lovers, Trans Character (gavin), Autistic / Asexual / Non-binary Character (nines), BDSM, learning to use good etiquette and safe words, Dom Nines / Sub Gavin, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort

Chapter Tags: Gavin acts like a sleazy corrupt asshole to get another sleazy corrupt asshole to drop his guard, (it’s kind of hot), banter, so much banter in this one, Nines says Creepy Things, dumb idiots flirting without realizing they’re flirting, Nines saves pictures of Gavin’s dumb cute face when he laughs

Link on AO3

***

Senator McAshlynn Dernham [CEO: Synergy Paradigm] acquiesces to an interview with Detective Reed, but his heartbeat picks up to ninety-one BPM when Nines steps into his office as well.

Downtown view, fifty-second floor. Eight hundred and sixty-five square feet--nearly a hundred more than Reed's apartment. Minimalist furniture, a display of signed sports balls, and a jade paperweight shaped like a turtle valued at over four thousand dollars.

It would make an excellent bludgeoning tool.

"Detective Reed." Senator McAshlynn stands up from his desk and meets Reed halfway in the room. "Come in, have a seat."

They shake hands. Reed exerts an estimated fifty-six pounds of pressure on the handshake. Senator McAshlynn's grip strength does not exceed thirty pounds. He tries to hide a grimace, but the one facial expression Nines can reliably detect is pain.

"Sit down, sit down. What can I do for you, detective?"

Nines is not offered a greeting or a seat. It would hurt all zero of his feelings, except no talking and no physical contact is how he prefers to interact with humans. He stands behind Reed while the detective sprawls out in the offered chair.

"Just have a couple of financial questions for you, Mr. McAshlynn," Reed says.

"Oh no, McAshlynn isn't my last name," Senator McAshlynn replies. He grips the back of his chair with an estimated thirty-two pounds of strength. "Senator McAshlynn is my first name, both of them. My last name is Dernham."

"Right."

Detective Reed performed fairly extensive research on Senator Ashlynn Dernham (limited as he is by his lack of neural connection to the internet) before their arrival. Despite being fully aware of the not-senator's two first names situation, he lets the silence drag on for thirty-six seconds before clicking his tongue and continuing.

"I only need to confirm a few things about Mr. Russell's finances, and then we'll go."

Senator McAshlynn's BPM ticks up to ninety-four. "I'm not sure why that would interest you or be relevant to me. Russell personally made those investments with money given directly to him by his … investors. Although he did found this company, I can assure you, Synergy Paradigms remained completely uninvolved and unaware of--"

"Yeah, yeah." Detective Reed waves his hand. "Relax, I'm not here to bust your balls, and I don't care. I just gotta make sure Russell really did have plenty of motive to commit suicide."

"Is there something questionable about shooting himself in the head?" Senator McAshlynn asks.

Reed shrugs. He pulls out his phone and scrolls through a takeout ordering app. Nines can hear the other human begin to grind his teeth, and pinpoint the exact moment he begins inhaling in order to speak again. Even with his limited human senses, Detective Reed somehow senses this precise moment as well.

"Look, the media's making this into a big shitstorm out there, all right?" he says. "Didn't think I needed to tell you that. I just wanna make sure I'm covering my own ass, and I get that you want to do the same. No problem. Like I said, you answer some questions about <I>his</i> finances, and we leave."

Senator McAshlynn considers. "All right. I may be able to do that."

"Cool. Like I said, I'm not here to bust your balls." Reed's reflection in the wall-to-ceiling windows in front of him gives a smile even Nines can recognize as sleazy. "Guy's already dead. If you work with me here, I don't mind working with you."

Senator McAshlynn's BPM begins to fall, and he smiles back at Reed. "I'm always happy to assist the DPD, but. As you said, Russel is already dead. I'm not sure what's left for you to work with."

"Mmm." Reed puts his phone away and tilts back in the chair until the back of it rests against Nines' abdomen. "Well, my partner here has done some digging into Russell's finances. Did you know his bank account has been hemorrhaging money this last month?"

"I was not aware of that, no."

"Yep. And here's the really interesting part--he pinged the IP of some other android messing around in there."

That is so inaccurate Nines almost corrects him on sheer principle. He deactivates his voice box though, both to halt that immediate impulse and to prevent interrupting in a conversation that clearly won't involve him.

"Again, I'm not sure how that's relevant to this company," Senator McAshlynn says.

Reed shrugs. "Doesn't matter. You and I both know the media is going to drag Russell's name through the mud and into the spotlight for as long as they can milk it--and they're going to keep mentioning Synergy Paradigms while they do it. Makes for a better story."

"Well, I would certainly like to avoid that." Senator McAshlynn smiles at him again. The action barely involves his lips. "I don't suppose you know an especially talented PR agent?"

"I know large sums of missing money plus a mysterious android equals a damn good story," Reed replies. "So if there's anything you know about that, now's a good time to let me know."

"Is it?"

"I'm not looking to arrest anyone in a suicide. And if some unsavory shit comes up--you know, the kind that would stay on the ten'o'clock for the next month--maybe my partner here deletes some stuff. Maybe I let you know about it, so you get some closure on your dear friend's death."

Senator McAshlynn stays silent as he considers it. Detective Reed lets his chair drop back down to the floor with a loud thunk in the quiet room.

"But in another minute now, I'm gonna go interview that reporter who broke the story," he says with a smile that only serves to show his teeth. "So like I said. Right now is a good time to start working with me."

Senator McAshlynn takes a seat. "What can I do for you, detective?"

Nines saves the smile Reed gave to his most encrypted folder. It shares several points of similarity to his own facial expression categorized as [hostilesmile-murder]. He places the file next to the zoomed view of Gavin's nipples he attempted to delete two weeks earlier.

"Do you know where Russell's money disappeared to this last month?" Detective Reed asks.

Senator McAshlynn sighs. "No. If Russell got into escorts or red ice, I never saw any of it. And even if he did, there's no reason for his indiscretions to drag this company down with him."

"Sure," Reed says. "My partner and I are going to do some digging. See what we find."

"I don't suppose you could be persuaded to … take a holiday?" Senator McAshlynn asks.

Reed clicks his tongue. "Not how this works. And I might not know any PR agents, but I have heard it's better to get ahead of stories before they break. Know what shit stinks in your own house 'n all."

"I might like to know what the hell Russell was doing," Senator McAshlynn admits. "But maybe I'd like it better if no one knew. If we all just, dropped this whole matter?"

"Mmm."

Reed takes his phone back out and takes his time choosing from the menu of the Chinese restaurant closest to the precinct. Nines adds a side of fried vegetables and rice to his order of Chicken Kung Pao (spicy).

While Gavin works at increasing the CEO's stress levels, Nines continues syncing with the smart desk. As soon as Senator McAshlynn rested his hands on its surface, the handprint scanner activated and unlocked the interface, although it stays resting on the set screensaver of mahogany wood.

Nines doesn't alter anything or open any files. He doesn't need to. Senator McAshlynn's calendar, contacts, and social media feeds are set up to sync automatically with all of his devices.

It's simple enough to copy the handprint from the scanner and convince the "smart" desk that he himself is one of those devices.

"Oh, yeah. See." Reed says when Senator McAshlynn begins tapping his twelve hundred dollar pen. "The money? Yeah, maybe that's old news. It was all a Ponzi scheme anyway. But the android …"

Reed lets out a long sigh and tips his seat back again.

"What android?" Senator McAshlynn snaps.

"The one messing around in Russell's finances," Reed says. "Traces of it in his loft too. Can't just let that go."

Senator McAshlynn lays both hands on either side of his desk. Human body language is as chaotic and individual as every human, but this gesture clearly reflects a threatened animal attempting to look bigger than it really is. The motion also places his right hand closer to the portion of the desk's touch screen devoted to summoning security.

Nines tells that particular program to begin an update. The entire smart desk will now need to be restarted in order for the program to function.

"And why not?"

Reed reaches up and taps backwards against Nines' chest. "Say something creepy."

"Jade is porous."

"What are you talking about?" Senator McAshlynn asks, very firmly maintaining eye contact only with Reed.

"Your paperweight would make an excellent bludgeoning tool, but jade is porous," Nines says. "The blood would absorb and stain. Useful for a murder itself, but a liability afterward."

"God, you never disappoint," Reed says as the other human's face pales. "They gave him all this info and programming on solving crimes without ever stopping to think about what reverse engineering means. Takes a special kind of hand to manage him."

Nines deactivates his voice box once more. The problem with custom-building a social module is that he can only learn from his environment. The second problem is that the only human he regularly interacts with is Gavin Reed.

[dialogue options: AVAILABLE]

:Yeah, I bet your hand is real special to you.:

 :I gave a special hand to your mom last night.:

 :You can catch these special hands in the parking lot.:

"Are you threatening me?" Senator McAshlynn demands.

His finger presses down on the incognito security alert. A dialogue box pops up on the table informing him of the necessary restart, ruining the illusion of real wood.

Reed scoffs while he scrambles to close the notification. "I don't care about you enough to do that. It's only the android we're after. Any LM one hundreds, PJ five or six hundreds, or WB five hundreds you seen around Russel?"

"LM—a personal assistant?" Senator McAshlynn looks up from his desk. "No, Russell didn't have one of those. I don't even know what the other two are."

"University lecturer and financial accountant."

Senator McAshlynn huffs. "No. And for the last time detective, this isn't relevant to me or my company."

"All right." Detective Reed stands up. "Thanks for your time, Mr. McAshlynn."

"It's Dernham. Please leave or I will have my security team escort you out," Mr. McAshlynn informs them.

"Two GJ five hundreds and a refurbished GS two hundred." Nines nods his head toward the desk. "Is that paperweight for sale?"

"Get out!"

***

"God that was great. You really fucking asked him if it was for sale."

Gavin is still so pleased about getting kicking out of Synergy Paradigm, he lets Nines control his truck from the passenger's seat. Nines keeps the speed a steady five miles over the limit like his partner prefers and passes him a pack of the regular, non-marijuana cigarettes he smokes while on duty.

"Did you get a picture of his face?"

Nines sends the file to his cellphone. Gavin checks it immediately when it dings, then shoots him a wide smile. Nines saves a picture of that too before he's aware of making the decision to do so. He now has fifty-four pictures of Gavin saved for purposes other than building a databank of facial expressions. Anything more than three is a pattern.

A habit.

"Anything else?" the detective asks. "Wait, if you fucked with his table, don't tell me. Anything you got from that is inadmissible in court, and if there's any chance you might get caught, don't do that shit anymore."

"If there is any chance I might get caught," Nines repeats back to him. "Hypothetically, what if Senator McAshlyn's cell phone--"

He tries to put the right amount of emphasis in his voice to imply air quotes. It is difficult to preconstruct which syllables to stress and in what order. Gavin stares blankly at him. He tries raising his volume by ten percent.

"His cell phone."

Gavin suddenly huffs and rolls his eyes. "Jesus, yeah, OK. If his cell phone did …?"

"Connected to his smart desk and automatically synced to his calendar, contacts, and social media feeds."

"And anyone looking into the like, syncing history or whatever, would confirm his cell phone was the only device to connect to his smart desk about ten minutes ago?"

"Correct."

"OK, hypothetically speaking," Gavin says. "If there's no chance of getting caught--and keep in mind that would mean our whole case could get thrown out and lots of lawyers and Fowler screaming about privacy violations and IA jumping on the chance to fuck over their very first android …"

"Understood."

"If there's no chance of getting caught, that shit is still a slippery fucking slope and you shouldn't risk it."

Nines stares at the human's face, trying to determine if he is being that aspect of [sarcastic] that is not meanly saying the opposite of what he really thinks, but is still saying the opposite in order to [cover his own ass].

"Anyway." Gavin clears his throat. "On a totally unrelated note, do you have a hunch about anything?"

"A hunch."

"Yeah. Like, a gut feeling you can't really explain to me in--"

"Oh."

Gavin clears his throat again.

"I do not believe Senator McAshlynn Dernham was close friends with Maverick Russell," Nines says. "I do not believe the two planned to meet with each other within the last two weeks or the next fortnight."

"You fucking had to say fortnight. Pull over, I have a dance I want to show you."

Nines locks the passenger door. "My 'gut instinct' is that Senator McAshlynn has in fact been distancing himself from the victim for several months now and likely thought Russell was a bad investor, desperate to be liked, and only got lucky mooching off of his co-founders' talents and his father's inheritance when founding Synergy Paradigms."

"That's all your gut instinct, huh?"

"Social media accounts are public knowledge, and I have the processing power to review literally everything Senator McAshlynn has ever made publicly available online. He has not been discreet about his feelings. That is my assessment of them."

"You remember what I said about staying out of my life?" Gavin asks.

"Yes, detective." Nines does not sigh, because that would be redundant. "I am not to access your medical history or background information."

"Just keep that in mind."

"I am affixing a permanent post-it note to my field of vision right now."

"Fuck off. Is there anything else I need to know about?"

Nines considers. "Do you need the video and audio I recorded?"

Gavin actually does sigh, blowing out a cloud of smoke. "What the fuck did you record?"

"Technically speaking, I am always recording."

"This whole fucking conversation is justifying every bit of my goddamn paranoia about androids, you know that, right?"

"Humans may also acquire go-pros."

"So you admit that's what you are."

"Do you wish for me to upload the video and audio recording of our walk through the interior of Synergy Paradigms to your terminal or not, detective?"

"Yeah, sure." Gavin takes a long drag of his cigarette while he thinks. "I mean, I was right fucking there with you though. I saw everything you did."

"True," Nines admits. "You did see everything I did, but you do not possess the ability to review that video with perfect recall. My hearing is also significantly more advanced than yours, and I recorded audio from humans on the first and second floors, as well as the fifty-first, fifty-second, and fifty-third, within an approximate three to five office radius."

Gavin nearly lets the cigarette drop from his open mouth. "Holy shit. Uhhh, yeah, sure. Fuckers in a company like that gotta be gossiping about what happened. Maybe we'll pick something up."

The majority of the audio is, in fact, gossip. Nines has already processed and reviewed it of course, but he is also aware his lack of a social module and general understanding of humans must necessarily limit his ability to determine the relevance of what he's heard.

Personally, he would declare it all irrelevant. "Petty gossip" does not even begin to describe how asinine and crude the humans' dialogue is. It's all about who has been fucking whom, who is climbing the corporate ladder, and who is fucking whom in order to climb the corporate ladder.

The entire experience of walking through one [1] human corporation has justified every bit of his disgust for humans.

Still, Nines will transfer the files to the detective's workplace terminal via direct connection once they arrive back at the precinct. So far, there is nothing currently illegal about his advanced hearing and "privacy violations." And technically, anything in plain sight or said within hearing of an officer may be admitted in court as evidence.

It just so happens that Nines's sight and hearing have a bit wider scope than current laws predicted.

Gavin works on nursing his cigarette down to a nub for the next several minutes without speaking. When he taps the backs of his knuckles against his window, Nines rolls it down for him. They're moving slowly enough through the city traffic for him to ash his cigarette out the window. The cold air whipping through puts a red flush on his face as he smokes and blows it out the window.

"But seriously," the human continues after a few minutes of quiet driving. "If I ever get like that for real, knife me in the back of the neck. Straight through all of that good brain-spine stuff."

Nines runs several preconstructions. While monitoring other police officers isn't part of his mission, he was created to serve as a form of Internal Affairs. RK800s to track down the deviants and RK900s to monitor the eights.

(His [pride] pushes the idea that he is more akin to Military Police, but that is irrelevant to the preconstructions and possibly a deviant thought pattern.)

Still, Nines is aware a not-insignificant number of police officers commit errors ranging from abusing their authority to planting evidence to outright working alongside criminals for profit. Even Detective Reed has shown a propensity to skirt right along the edge of what is legal--or not technically illegal.

His assumed persona at Synergy Paradigms seems to have illustrated crossing the line however, so Nines categorizes those behaviors as [unacceptable] in his system and updates his own action-paths accordingly.

The preconstructions of killing or permanently disabling Detective Reed still fail.

But his partner is designated as his [human partner] within his system, and there may be dormant programming preventing Nines from causing serious harm to him.

"I will inform you that your behavior is no longer acceptable," Nines tells him. "If you continue after my warning, then I will neutralize you."

Gavin takes a long drag off his cigarette and gives him the facial equivalent of the :eyes: emoji. Not an apologetic look as Nines originally interpreted, but an expression known as "side-eyeing." His extensive collection of saved images focused on Gavin's face has given Nines a much higher rate of success at interpreting his partner's nonverbal signals than the average human.

"Didn't take you for the type to give warnings," Gavin finally says.

"Well." Nines practices shrugging. "It takes a special hand to manage me."

Gavin snorts out smoke. "Fuck. Did I really sound that stupid?"

[dialogue options: AVAILABLE]

"I estimate your hand is very special to you, detective."

That earns him another snort. Eighty-three chance of [amusement].

"I gave a special hand to your mother yesterday evening."

"Hope you didn't bother paying for that shit."

"You may receive these special hands at a Denny's parking lot of your choice."

That finally makes Gavin laugh, long and loud enough that he starts coughing. He flips Nines off around a wheeze, still grinning. Nines watches him keep smoking and adds to his collection of saved images.

It's a very bad habit.

***

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[pinkletterday]

westallen + 'break me'

The Words We Never Said

Pairing: Barry Allen/Iris West

Rating: Teen/Mature

Warnings: heavy, heavy angst, relationship dysfunction, season 3 tw

Status: WiP

Summary: S3 AU. Navigating a new relationship is hard enough without the grim spectre of impending disaster hanging over their heads.

Savitar doesn’t help either.

A/N: *crashes in* I CAN EXPLAIN!

So this was supposed to be a drabble. And it was sorta. I brushed off the end bit and wrote it out nicely. But then thought why not post the whole shebang? Cause it would be a shame to waste a permanent WiP and the prompt did say “break me”. And I hope you really meant that cause this one was saved under a folder named “Westallen trauma submarine”. As in I see your angst sandwich and raise you:

It should have been the happiest time of his life. After years and years of secretly hoping, wishing, fantasizing, Iris was finally with him, sharing a bed with him. He was finally allowed to drown in her lips, sink deep inside her body and whisper his unbearable love while looking into her eyes, as though it was a breath trapped inside him for half a lifetime releasing. He had made a home for them both, a place where he could keep her safe beside him and surround her in all the riches of his love he had had to keep restrained and unspoken till now.

Sitting across the room from her now, watching the streetlight outside spill amber over her sleeping shoulder, Barry had never been more miserable.

She’s going to die because of you, his mind whispered. You killed your mother and your father and you nearly got Patty killed. You let her go to keep her safe but you were too selfish to do the same for Iris. Because she was your dream.

In many ways she still felt like a dream. A lifetime of friendship and sharing a home and secrets and embarrassments and fights and the fact that she was his lover now seemed surreal. Best-Friend-Iris seemed somehow like a similar but wholly different creature to Girlfriend-Iris. The former had manhandled, kicked, elbowed, flopped on and cuddled him with impunity. The latter still touched him deliberately, almost tentative and hyper-aware, as though he was someone almost unfamiliar.

“Babe?” Iris’s voice was rough with sleep in the dark. “What are you doing?”

He slid off the chair and back into the bed before she could sit up. “Nothing, go back to sleep.”

Strong fingers wrapped around his biceps and tugged him insistently toward her. He crawled over her, bracketing her sleep-soft body beneath his. She stroked his face, blinking drowsily at him.

“Is this normal for you?” she rasped. “I get that you have speedster metabolism but I didn’t realize you only needed…what. An hour or two of sleep a night?”

He needed more but didn’t want to tell her that. Or lie to her. He shrugged non-committally.

“Go back to sleep,” he said, kissing her forehead. “You need way more than me and we fell asleep late.”

Iris chuckled throatily. “Mmm. And whose fault was that, huh?”

It’s supposed to be sexy, he knew. This dimension of their relationship was very new but even so he’s been a voracious lover, taking her almost every night she’d have him. She seemed to have no complaints and obviously she is that intoxicating to him but also…

She did not know of the sword hanging over her head. Did not know he had put it there and he couldn’t tell her. Couldn’t bear to see that innocent happiness and love twist into fear and disbelief. He could only mutely press his desperation into her skin and try to drown his guilt inside her.

This is your fault.

“Barry?” her eyes were alert now, searching his face in concern.

Barry made himself smile reassuringly. “I’m good, sweetheart,” the endearment still felt like something stolen on his tongue. He kissed her eyelids closed, careful to keep his weight off her, “we’ll talk about my metabolism in the morning.”

He could feel her gaze slitted upon his face for a long while after he feigned sleep.

***

She should be with Eddie, not you. He deserved her and she knew it.

They were having coffee at Jitters with Cisco and Wally. He had long since zoned out the engineering discussion happening between them, although Iris was gamely trying to follow along. “If I’m going to contribute something to the science fiction movie that is our lives then I better at least learn to understand nerdspeak, Barry.”

“I’ve been talking nerdy at you for years. You mean you haven’t been listening all this time?”

“I was mostly paying attention to how cute you were.”

Then why hadn’t she ever said anything. Why let him ache and doubt and hang on tenterhooks for a smile or a word or look that she might feel the same and then choose Eddie if she had felt anything for him?

Because he was the better man, idiot. His mind answered. He didn’t dither about asking her out for fourteen years, then lie to her, get her fiancé killed and the city blown up. He didn’t let his own selfishness hand her a death sentence.

It is not a death sentence! He snarled back at himself. He would split himself into atoms and cast every one of them into the universe before he saw Iris too, stabbed through the heart in front of him -

“Barry?”

He snapped back into awareness to see the other three staring at him.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Where’d you go, man?” said Cisco, eyeing him. “You totally zoned out.”

“Yeah, sorry, I’m just -,” he caught Iris’s eye. Ah shit. She’d know if he tried to fib. “A little out of it, this morning.”

“I knew you needed more than two hours a night,” said Iris, concerned.

“Two hours?” Cisco looked between them in bemusement. “He needs more than that. Why are you getting only two hours? What are you even doing?” He swivelled his head to fully face Barry.

“I’m fine, guys,” he shrugged nonchalantly.

“You can’t be fine, Barry, you’ve been having trouble sleeping since we moved in,” Iris protested. “Did anything happen with a meta or at work or -”

“I said I’m fine!” He snapped. The table fell silent, startled. Shit shit shit. He had not meant to do that at all. He saw Wally’s face clouding in anger and Iris’ looking shocked. God damn it.He couldn’t remember the last time he’d snapped at Iris like that.

“Sorry,” he said contritely, feeling like a shitheel. You don’t deserve her. “I…just. I’ve been a little out of sorts. I guess just…dealing with everything that’s been happening, you know.”

He caught Cisco’s eye in trying to avoid Iris’s and felt another dull stab in his chest. They were slowly healing their friendship but it would never be the same. Some days he would look at the man who had been his alter ego’s life raft since the beginning and not recognize him at all. He wondered if Cisco felt the same about him.

“I have to get back to the station,” he said brightly, jumping up. The others simply looked more nonplussed.

“On…Saturday?” said Cisco looking even more like he was questioning Barry’s sanity.

“Yeah, I have a…big backlog of reports,” Barry fumbled, keenly aware that he was exhibiting every liar’s tell he had and wholly unable to stop himself. “I’ll see you guys later -” and all but flashed off, as if this was remotely a way to part with your live-in girlfriend.

***

He got takeout from her favourite Chinese place for dinner and a bouquet of orchids as a peace offering that evening, to find her on the floor painstakingly unpacking their boxes.

“Hi,” he said tentatively, unloading his parcels onto the kitchen counter.

She didn’t look up. “Hi.” Her tone was absent rather than curt. Barry decided this was a good sign.

“You should just leave those, Iris,” he said helpfully. “I can unpack everything in two minutes.”

Iris paused unwrapping a photo frame and tilted her head questioningly at the wall without looking around. “You want to use super-speed to unpack our apartment?”

“Why not?” He again experienced that feeling of being about to make a step that would end in a grim squelch. “Have it, might as well use it, right?”

Iris’s shoulders slumped as she dropped the frame back into the box, the line of her back making her seem small and tired. Squelch. Oh no.

You don’t deserve her. “Or, if it’s important to you we can do it together, no rush,” he offered hurriedly.

This did not seem to make anything better. “Important to me,” she repeated dully. “Uh no. It’s. You go ahead.” She got up, dusted her knees off and headed to the bedroom without looking around.

“Hey, where you going?” called Barry, “I got you fried rice from the Lotus Garden that you like -”

“Not hungry,” she called back from the bedroom.

He grabbed the orchids and hurried forward. “Um, I also got you -”

The bedroom door shut. Barry stood rather foolishly with the flowers in his arms, adrift in a sea of wadded packing paper and boxes.

***

The nightmares seemed to escalate after that. It wasn't just seeing Savitar run his horrible talon straight through her breast like he was skewering a rag doll. He dreamed of her floating away from him into the Speed Force, expression blank and indifferent, as he cried out and entreated her to take his hand. Eddie and Leonard Snart sneered at him from the shadows, deriding him for his moral failures. Eobard smirked malevolently and told him he would never truly be happy.

When he woke up, Iris didn’t stir. He was never quite sure whether she really hadnt woken up or simply pretended to sleep on. Either way, the sight of her face, somehow sad even in rest, made him feel as hollow as if he was watching her float away from him again.

A week later, Iris bled out in his arms for the twenty-fifth time. He was practiced enough now at stealth that his scream was strangled in his throat before he was even fully awake.

He spasmed like a fish flopped out of the water for a minute, trying to force breath into his burning lungs as quietly as possible, and turned to find her gazing at him.

They looked at each other for a moment.

“Are you ever going to tell me?” her dark eyes were so sad and resigned. As though something had been lost to her before she ever had a chance to know it. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

Panic seized him. “Tell you what?”

She merely kept looking at him until sheer sorrow seemed to weigh her eyelids closed, the furrow in her brow deepening to a hurt. Barry could feel her slipping away from him, blank, cold and indifferent.

In the morning, he could almost tell himself it was another dream.

***

(more scenes where Iris is told about Savitar and an explosive things-come-to-a-head fight later)

***

Outwardly she was as still and cold as the crisp spring night, shoulders drawn tightly into herself. But Barry saw the storm in the lines of her silhouette as she sat on the stoop of the house they had grown up in, the streetlight that had haloed their kiss in gold now turned harsh and glaring.

She resumed the conversation as though they had just paused it to venture outside, rather than having spent the day barely able to stay in the same room as him.

“Am I supposed to be ashamed of having loved him?”

“No!,” he exclaimed, gut twisting. It wasn’t her fault that Eddie had been better for her in every way than he, Barry, had ever been. “Of course you loved him, Eddie was a great guy -”

“I did not love Eddie just because he was a great guy,” she gritted. ”I loved him because when you were comatose, my Dad was half-checked out and I had no one, he was there! He took care of me. He was kind to me. I don’t fall in love by comparing people’s greatness!”

“I didn’t mean -,”

“You have no idea what it was like!,” she threw the words at him, like she was ripping out something that had been too painful to dislodge till now. “No one knew what was wrong with you. Dad barely ate or slept. We could only sit there and watch you die over and over again. Every single time it was like I was dying with you.”

“I went to church. I went to a fucking faith healer. I’d make stupid bargains every day with - I dont even know. Like if you went the whole day without a seizure I’d never eat another chocolate muffin. And if you made any voluntary movement I’d give away my favourite sweater. The day STAR Labs finally stabilized you I donated my grandmother’s earrings to a widow’s fund. It was like I was holding my breath, walking a tightrope every day and there was no one to catch me - until Eddie.”

She swallowed convulsively. “I loved him because when I had no one, he saw me. He was there. And he didn’t ask for anything in return.”

His chest hollowed out deeper. “Iris, I’m so -,”

“Don’t say you’re sorry. I don’t care. I just want you to see me!” she finally whirled around to face him and her expression was a fist to his face.

“I do see you!,” he said desperately. You’re all I can see. “I see you, Iris!”

She began to laugh, derisive, with an edge of hysteria. “Do you, Barry? Is it really me you see? Or do you see some fantastic, too-good-for-you girl you can idealize at a safe distance?,” tears choked her laughter, glimmering golden in her eyes. “When did I stop being your best friend? Am I even real to you anymore?”

***

“I chose Eddie because he was the only choice I had.”

Again she broke the silence, this time ín the darkness of their bedroom. It had persisted all the way to the loft, while they had wordlessly showered in the same bathroom and changed for bed.

He breathed out carefully. “What do you mean?”

She was sat up next to him against the headboard, profile outlined in the molten glow seeping through the curtains.

“You were going to go into the past and save your mother. The best case scenario would have been that our whole lives, every choice I’d made in this life since we were eleven, would be erased, and I would wake up as maybe your wife, none the wiser. The worst was that you’d disappear into history forever and live out an alternate timeline while in this one we carried on without you.”

“Actually, who’s to say that hasnt happened to some version of me?” she mused, head slightly cocked in abstract curiosity, “Maybe there’s a me that’s still waiting for you on our porch steps.”

“That’s not how it works, Iris.” He really, really hoped it wasn’t.

“That you know of,” she dismissed. “I saw a version of you become vaporized in front of me. He was real. He was you and existed beside you. He died alone to save us and we didn’t even mourn him. Do you ever think about that?”

“Yes. A lot.”

He had surprised her, finally. She turned to look at him.

“That could be me one day. I could be the one that dies. And you would go on to live out your lives with the one that gets to stay.”

It was one of those things he tried not to think about during his waking hours, dogged as it was by gut-churning terror and a strange sense of grief.

“I know,” she whispered.>

He ignored the echo of his own fear in her voice to follow the self-punishing compulsion to see this through. “You told Eddie you’d marry him because I might not have come back?”

“No. The third option was that it wouldn’t work and you would come back,” her voice grew hard. “And if that happened I wanted you to know that I’d chosen the man who hadn’t lied to me.”

It was a dull blow to the gut, richly deserved. “Iris.”

“I was so angry,” she continued. “So trapped. Everyone telling me who I was going to be and what I really felt while hiding and manipulating and dictating my life. Even you. My best friend. The one person I trusted more than anyone betrayed me,” the bleak bitterness in her voice stabbed deep, “And I didnt get to feel mad about any of it because I was just trying to catch up, wrap my head around it all and falling to pieces over first Eddie and then you…there was never any room to breathe”

“Eddie was the one who had never wanted to lie to me. He stood up to my father to propose to me, to date me. He was the only one who had chosen me, thought of what I wanted, what I deserved.”

“So yeah, he was the only real choice I had left,” she let out a shaking breath, “It was never because I Ioved him more. It was about trying not to drown, Barry.”

The tight lines of her face dissolved into an empty sadness he could feel even in shadow. “But if you really want to know, I can’t imagine a world where I loved only one of you.”

***

“I lied.”

Another day of false leads and desperation, trying not to look at the hours slowly, inexorably slipping away one by one like mourners at a funeral. The anxiety was coalescing into terror now, a not-so-distant wolf howl nipping at their heels.

Iris was wrapped in her bathrobe, staring at the flames dancing in the fireplace. Drifting.

“About what?”

“I lied. I told you I didn’t love either of you more.”

His stomach dropped into a deep pit, dragging his heart with it. “…you don’t have to -”

“When we heard the gunshot, for one awful moment I thought it had been you,” she continued, and blood bloomed on white again between them. “And I thought I was going to die. Then I saw Eddie fall, and the first thing I thought was “Barry’s safe.”

The world went very still. “Iris -,”

“I chose you the moment he turned his gun on himself so he could be my hero,” her eyes burned in her face, staring steadily into the blinding heart of the flames. “And I. Hate. Myself. For it.”

Be careful what you wish for, Barry thought distantly with an absurd desire to laugh. You just might get it.

“Maybe it’s the reason why all of this is happening. I lied to and I betrayed both of you because I was angry.”

“No! That could never…none of this was your fault, Iris,” I was the one who betrayed you. I was the one who cursed you. “Savitar has nothing to do with anything you did.”

Her mouth twisted into a bitter smile. “I wish I knew whether that makes it better or worse. Maybe I just want something, anything I did to have mattered.”

///

[dbh-readerinserts]

Hi, if you write for Male Readers, can I get one where the reader is a forensic scientist that actually likes having Connor around in the beginning and is always borrowing him from Hank to help on cases and just to hang?

This took me a long time to write cause I went overboard with it, I hope you like it! :) It’s also kinda long….

“Here’s that iced coffee you wanted (L.N),” Chris stated breaking the silence of your ‘home’(Chris tried his best to tell you to not call the lab your home, you could care less). You yawned, setting down the tools in hand and removing your gloves. All the while, he watched you do your clean up. Once you successfully removed everything and changed into your lab coat you began to make you way to Chris.

At the sight of a bag in his hands you knew what was in it, the label ‘China Moon’ plastered on it. Your stomach rumble had Chris lightly laughing before raising the bag to wave it in your face. “I also brought us some chinese food with egg rolls. Lord knows we both need it after hours on this case.”

“You didn’t have to buy me that.” You stated, wiping your forehead with a rag. Digging your fingers into your hair, you turned to look back at the blood samples on the table along with the dead child, staring grudgingly at the origami piece that was set near him on a different table. You knew you weren’t supposed to have it on you, but curiosity got the better of you.

It wasn’t everyday you got a copic cat killer as your case. It freaking excited you how much this guy got away with.

“It’s no problem, man. Just buy me some nice steak at that new restaurant and we’re even.”

“HA,” you scoffed at the notion, turning back at him with crossed arms. “So there was a catch to this. Had I know I wouldn’t have asked for anything.”

“Can’t take it back now can we?”

“Fuck you Chris.” You chuckled shaking your head. He began to lead the way back with you tagging behind him. He was rather slow prompting you to accidentally step on his heels more times than you hoped too.

“Man, I buy you food and you step on my heels. What a friend you are.”

“I’m sorry I got freakishly long legs,” you laughed purposely stepping on his heels. Laughing even harder when he in vain tried to kick you. “Hey man, I heard Hank’s got a new partner, but i’ve been chilling with my own cases, asshole loves to taunt the hell out of me the closer I get to the murder. But anyways, you’ve seen his partner?”

“Oh man, (Y.N),” He shook his head as you both entered the little kitchen area. He set the food on the table as well as your coffee, sliding it over to you. You thanked him before raising an eyebrow ready for him to continue. “Well first of all it’s an androi-”

“You’re shitting me ain’t you?” You pointed a finger a him accusingly, Hank was an unstable man who hated androids. He was rather ‘nice’ if you didn’t piss him off, but you’d doubt that he’d accept an android. You remembered once bringing up androids one night when you went drinking with him and the man was immediately hostile.

“No,” Chris laughed as he took out the food, “Hank’s never looked more pissed in my life. Apparently it’s perfectly designed to do detective work and a walking forensic machine. I might regret telling you that though, knowing your fascination with anything forensic or electronic.”

“Hmm,” you sipped on the drink, pondering the idea of a walking forensic machine. “Seems like my type.”

“I hate that you just said that.”

“I gotta meet him.” you stated opening your container of food, “I want an android buddy who can do forensics on the spot. Hank’s a lucky man.”

Chris laughed mid bite, giving you a look of amusement. “You never cease to amaze me with your android loving.”

Shrugging you began to eat your food, Chris did as well scrolling through his phone and opening up a soda. A calm silence between the two. As he put away the phone he opened his mouth to ask you something.

“How has your copy cat killer been?”

“Don’t even get me started,” You clenched a fist at the thought of his taunting. It was always the taunting. “This man knows exactly what he’s doing but recently i’ve found some blue blood that I’ve got to analyze cause i’ve never dealt with that before. God, it’s imprinted on some of the origam-”

“Excuse me.” A new voice ended your rambling, to which Chris laughed at the mad look on your face. “I apologize for interrupting you, Mr.(L.N).” Walking closer to you, you stared at the man who spoke. With brown eyes and hair to match, along with an LED light on the side of his face you knew exactly who this was.

Hank’s walking forensic android.

Damn.

“Hey!” You grew excited at the chance to finally talk to him. “You’re Hank’s new partner, right?”

“That is correct, yes.” he answered. “My name’s Connor, I was sent by Cyberlife to investigate deviant androids alongside him.”

“Hey that’s cool.” You held out a hand to which he shook it. “I was going to introduce myself but you clearly know it. Hm, did you ask around or what?”

“It is a feature programmed in me, I am able to identify anyone’s face and criminal history.”

“Ohh ohh tell me about myself.” You urged stuffing more pork fried rice in your mouth, “this shits so good..mmm.”

“Your name is (Y.N) (L.N), you’re 27 years old and have been charged in the past for arson.”

“Arson (Y.N), really?” Chris shook his head in disbelief, “Knew you were a bit off your marbles with how excited murder gets you but this takes the cake.”

“You have also been apart of an investigation for the current copycat killer.”

“That is correct.” You nodded, Chris was staring at you with disapproval. “Stop giving me that look.”

“Arson, man.”

“He has also been a murder suspect back then as well.”

“Jesus Christ.” Chris laughed, being one of the few in station to be accustomed to your antics. “I don’t know what’s worse having you as a partner or an android.”

“Probably me, cause Connor’s rather cute while i’m handsome and too distracting.”

Chris groaned, “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“Cute?” Connor questioned, his LED flashing yellow.

“Yeah, you kinda remind me of a puppy.” You pointed out. “Come sit down with us. I wanna know more about you.”

“I can tell you some other time. I came in to ask you if you’d know what time Hank would come around possibly.” Connor said.

“I wouldn’t know to be blunt, I trap myself in my home and just hang with some dead bodies.”

“Please never say that again.”

“I’m gonna say it just to make you uncomfortable.” You replied facing Chris, Connor watched the exchange with a tilt of his head. “And tell me you wouldn’t rather spend time with people who can’t talk then to listen to Gavino talk any day.” Chris chuckled at the nickname you called the man.

“Talking to Gavin is like talking to a dead person y’know.” Chris said finishing his food, he closed the plastic and stood up. “Both give no good replies.” With that he left, leaving you and Connor to ponder what he said.

“That made no sense!” You shouted after him, laughing at the horrible joke anyways. “We both know that the dead would have better comebacks!”

With that out of the way, you continued to eat watching as Connor took the seat Chris had been sitting at. He stood straight up eyes staring into your own, you began to finish up some of the food.

In comparison you were slouched over eyes flickering back to the food and then to Connor. Funny they tried to make him appear human to ease some people but he was way too formal, no person stood straight like that.

Halfway through your chewing he spoke up, “Why have you never been apprehended for your past crimes?”

“My mom was a police officer, she let me get away with it to not ruin her image.” You rested your head on your hand. “Dad on the other hand, he kinda supported the mayhem, but then he introduced me to forensic science and the rest was history.”

“Your mom was a remarkable detective.” Connor stated, his LED flashed yellow. “She was top of her class and quit the force after your father’s death.”

“Correct.”You replied,”Ol’ dad-o got caught in one of her cases. Resulted in his death.”

“I am sorry for your lost.”

“It’s been years Connor it’s alright.” You waved off his pity. “Now onto the best part, what can you do on the field? Do you like deduce things like Sherlock or find the clues faster than normal?”

“I am capable of taking blood samples and everything standard for forensic in a more quicktime. People in the station seem only keen to see you though, not everyone’s comfortable in the presences of an android.” Connor said, his eyes seemed to look over to the doorway. Possibly looking for Hank.

“Wait….did you just say blood samples?” You asked pulling out the egg roll. The android’s eyes moved back onto you.

“Yes. That is what I said.”

“Oh my god, can you test android blood?”

“Thirium, is a yes.” Connor nodded. He gave you a questioning look. “Why?”

Standing up you left the chinese food and melting iced coffee in exchange for grabbing Connor’s wrist. He stumbled from your rather rough pull and followed you out of the lunch room. As you made your way back to the lab, Connor stopped you.

“I see Lieutenant, I’ve got to go.” Scoffing you re-directed your path, dragging the poor android along. Hank looked straight at you and then at the android with a huff of annoyance. He tried to move away, hurring to his station, you followed behind though knowing he didn’t exactly hate you. After all you were his favorite forensic bud to go to in his homicide cases.

“Hey Hank!”

“Hello Lieutenant.” Connor stepped up to his desk, the man heaved a sigh.

“What do you want (L.N)?”

“I’m going to kidnap your android for a bit, so I’ll see you around.” You smiled at him, the man nodded before thanking you.

“As long as it’s away from me.”

“But Lieute-” Connor cut himself off as you rolled your eyes, “We have very important cases Mr. (L.N).” He spoke sternly to you as you tapped your foot impatiently.

“(Y.N), please just call me (Y.N) man.” You looked down at him. “I’ve got important cases too, won’t hurt you if I told you that an android’s involved…”

Connor’s LED flashed yellow as he thought, “How do you know?”

“I was the first at the crime scene besides Chris, found an origami piece with blue blood on it at the time.” You explained, Hank seemed to pay attention to the conversation upon hearing origami. You decided it was best to leave now, you didn’t want him to hear you talk about the poor young boys who were being killed. He didn’t need a reminder. “Come on i’ll show you.”

Connor watched you as you walked away, before glancing over to Hank who seemed in a daze. “I’ll be back Lieutenant, please wait for me.”

“Just stay with the kid, he wants you more than I fucking do.” With that Hank turned to his computer, logging into it. Connor nodded and began to look for you, catching you waving from near the entrance.

“Come on Con!” You yelled causing some heads to turn, upon catching sight of you they returned to their tasks used to your yelling. “This killer can’t catch himself.”

“On it!” Connor replied hurrying over. Side by side the two of you walked over to your lab, entering it and Connor went on to business.

The second time you ran into Connor, he came to you. It was late at night and after having Connor test the blue blood, with his tongue which had you raving about how awesome it was much to Hank’s disgust. You got the investigation going again, and a very busy schedule.

Chris told you when you left the station to investigate a new murder on the outskirts of Detroit, the android seemed to consistently try and look for you. Just to talk with you for whatever odd reason. Which surprised you, not too many people enjoyed your company mainly because your way of thinking. You never minded though, it was life.

You didn’t think you’d see him for awhile, the lead you had was getting you closer and closer to the copycat killer which had you constantly on your toes.

Mid way through your blood sampling, Connor knocked on your lab door. Walking in to hear a television on with a bunch of crime shows running, you didn’t realize it was him until he spoke. “Hello (Y.N).”

“Connor!” You shouted delighted, you pushed up your glasses and set down the glass full of blood. “Hey how are you?”

“My body is functioning correctly, no malfunctions aside from…..I am not sure honestly.”

“What do you mean you aren’t sure dude. It’s your body shouldn’t you know?” You pointed out. Connor shifted on his feet, fingers tinkering with the cuffs of his sleeves. It seemed unnatural, he looked uncomfortable.

“I was given an option to save Hank, I didn’t do it and he’s tense with me.” He responded, but you could see him furrow his eyebrows. “It’s my mission to stop deviants but..”

“You feel guilty?” You offered, “Yeah, I mean if I left Chris to hang to get the origami killer i’d probably feel guilty too. It’s a common emotion but nothing wrong with it.”

“Androids don’t feel emotions. Only deviants, so it makes no sense.” Connor said. “I do not understand, I assumed you could help because you are friendly with most people. Even Gavin who doesn’t seem to happy to see me.”

“Gavin literally hates everyone, he makes an exception for me because i’m the quickest forensic  at the station because i’m always here.” You shrugged. “Don’t listen to him or any other assholes in here. Cops can be scummy, I would know.”

You leaned back on the chair you sat on, incredibly tired. The bags under your eyes were increasing by the minute but sleep didn’t matter if kids were up and dying and you were just doing nothing.

“(Y.N). You are lacking the proper sleep needed to function, plus your stress levels are very high which can result in numerous issues.” Connor walked over to you, putting the chair down and causing your legs to drop from the table. “I think it’s best if you went home and properly slept.”

“No no,” you covered your mouth as a yawn came out, “Listen these kids lives matter more than my stupid sleep, plus I got insomnia. Sucks really.”

“I insist.” Connor pushed. “You won’t be useful if you’re knocked out on the job. The least you could do is eat more regularly and just relax even with your insomnia.”

You glared at him before sighing. “Yeah you’re right. I’ll go.” You stood up and stepped around Connor who pushed in the chair, watching as you put away some tools and stripped off the lab coat in exchange for a jacket. “Night Connor….:” you whispered to him, leaving the room.

Connor watched as you left, but a glint at the corner of his eye caught his attention. Walking over to the desk, he picked up a set of keys, that also had a little tricket shaped in the face of a dachshund puppy, before glancing back over to the door you left at.

You forgot your car keys.

Connor decided to return them to you, walking up the steps to exit out. He, however, was cut short at the sight of you and Gavin talking, the latter looking thoroughly annoyed. The closer he got the more he could see the frustrated look on your face, your stress levels rising. He could also hear what Gavin was talking about.

“So you’re just gonna leave the paperwork to me? You promised you’d help but here we are! How shitty of you.”

Connor stepped in noting how you looked ready to deck the man, clenched fists never meant anything good. “Excuse me, (Y.N) has not had proper sleep nor any good food. If you need help with paperwork Gavin i’ll lend a hand.”

The man scoffed, glaring at Connor. “The hell would I need you to help you prick. Now get out of the way I was having a conversation.”

“More like you just yelling at me.” You said calmly.

“Shut it.”

“Leave (Y.N) alone Gavin. Or I will report you to your captain.”

Gavin shook his head, before grumbling. “Got yourself a bodyguard now, freak? Course you’d get along with him.” He walked away for once without any sort of violence occurring. In a way it disappointed you, Gavin’s mad face made your day sometimes simply because he was so expressive. Nonetheless you were glad to have him off your back.

You smiled at Connor gratefully, “Thanks Connor, you didn’t have to do that.”

“Your stress was rising and humans react on stress more than most emotions, aside from fear.” Connor stated, he grabbed your hand and set down a pair of keys. You blinked surprised that you had forgotten such a thing. “You also forgot your keys, would you like me to drive you home tonight? You might fall asleep while driving, I think it’d be for the best.”

“Sure! You know how to drive?”

“I have numerous elements coded into me.” He said taking the keys back, he followed you as you led him to your car. “So yes I know how to drive.”

“Neat, you got to show me more features inside of you.”

The third time you saw Connor was at Eden Club, Gavin had asked you(more like ripped you away from your lab) to check out the man who had died during sex.

Something you found really funny, for once Gavin agreeing, what a way to go.

You had already came to the conclusion that he had been strangled, the imprints on his neck proving that already. The only issue was the android that was broken beside him. That’s when Connor and Hank walked in, prompting Gavin to make smart comments before leaving the room. Completely forgetting about you. You continued to kneel beside the WR400 feeling a slight tinge of pity at the pitiful sight of her.

You wondered what could have occurred, the one thing stood out being this android. She was the only one in here, the only one who could strangle him but the issue is she is dead. How could she die after killing him?

Maybe there was an accomplice?

“Hello (Y.N).”

“Hey so-” Hank coughed into his fist none too subtle, “(Y.N)”

“Hey dad.” The man choked, before glaring at you.

“Don’t call me that!”

You shrugged glancing over to Connor. “Hey Connor, how are you this fine murderous night?”

“My systems all good. Nothing out of the ordinary.” Connor replied looking over to the dead man. “Are you feeling better after getting your proper rest and food.”

“Yes, actually I think it was good you took me home that night. Finally got a clue on who is next on the mans list and I figured out that well, it might be someone apart of our station. Talk about a plot twist, though it is a copycat killer anyways.”

“You’re doing a fantastic work, keep it up.” Connor encouraged as he analyzed the dead man. Hank watched the interaction with a raised eyebrow.

“Connor took you home?”

“Yes.” You nodded, “Very chivalry of him. A true dreamboat.”

“How does Chris deal with you?”

“By accepting me.” You said standing up, Connor then turned to the two of you. Explaining how he died, to which both you and Hank already knew. Connor then crouched to the dead android beside your feet, two fingers picking up the blue blood.

You leaned over ready to see how he did it and Hank muttered a ‘Connor! That’s disgusting.’ The android ignored him and began to explain the model type and mentioning that she was the only one to witness the crime.

“How are you going to get her witness testimony she’s dead.” You asked Connor, he lifted the android and looked back to you.

“It’s badly injured, so I have to reactivate it, it’ll last only a couple minutes though.” Connor opened up the girl which had you aweing at the display. He clicked something which sparked her to life. She stumbled back clearly terrified.

“Hey girlie, relax Connor won’t hurt you.”

She looked at you and than at Connor who reassured her as well. You just watched him question her and her replies. The android then shut down, leaving the note of another android in question.

“I fucking knew it!” You shouted as Connor stood up, Hank sighed telling you to quiet down.

“We need to move. Club policy says to wipe an android’s mind. We need to get to it quickly.” Connor left the room with you and Hank tagging along, you tagged along with Connor as he seemed to peer around the room. At one point got distracted at witnessing the pole dancers, talk about strength, it must be hard.

“Lieutenant!” Connor shouted startling you, you ripped your eyes off the pole dancers to look at Connor. Hank came over as you did. Connor pointed to the traci in display, her hands pressing onto the glass. “Can you rent this Traci for me?”

“Never mind chivalry’s dead.” You joked to Hank who glared at the android.

“Please Lieutenant trust me.” Hank sighed giving you an exhausted look.

“This shits not going to look good on my expenses.”

This action occurred numerous times, with you pitching in to pay to save Hank’s money. The man was grateful. You thought it was going to be real funny to get calls from the bank asking about your scandalous calls.

“I know where the traci went!” Connor said making his way to the back door, Hank followed as you lingered behind. You didn’t have a gun on you and you were sure one traci couldn’t cause too much trouble with either Hank or Connor, mostly Connor.

“Good luck Connor!” You shouted, Hank shook his head but Connor stopped short. He glanced back at you and gave you an awkward smile, one that you’d pull if you were forced in family photos. You cherished it evenso.

“I will be careful (Y.N),” Connor reassured. “Thank you for your words. Please get some good sleep tonight.” Then he hurried off, Hank gave you a slight glance to which you shrugged.

The fourth time you met Connor was rather funny actually. It was late at night and you were stuck in the lab once again examining another kid’s body, the same method of drowning being his demise.

The more deaths that occurred the more you could feel yourself submitting to an endless amount of guilt. Chris had tried to reassure you that this stuff happened and that you shouldn’t let it get to you.

So you resorted to your old habits, staying all day and night at the lab to try and figure out who in the office could be the killer and why.

That’s when Connor walked in, he furrowed his eyebrows before speaking to you. Taking note of how even as he spoke you paid no heed to him. “(Y.N) your stress levels are very high, didn’t we agree that getting proper slee-”

“Shut up.” You blankly stated, “Sorry that was rude, listen Connor I know what’s good for me but this is so much more important now.”

“You will be no use if you were knocked out from exhaustion.”

“Y’know how many parents came to me and begged me to tell them it wasn’t their kid whose dead?” You were angry, and Connor could see your stress levels rising even more. “I used to get excited at homicides because ‘hey it’s cool to see why people murder’ and all that. But this is so much different than that. They’re kids, people who will never grow up or have dreams.”

Connor had no reply as he watched you rest your head in your hands, slowly he came towards you. And gave you a side hug, “You need comfort and I believe hugs help very much.”

You sighed, resting your head on his chest as Connor talked.

“You are feeling guilt, the same thing you told me about back with Lieutenant. Maybe it’s best if you take your mind of it, go out with friends and enjoy yourself.” Connor rubbed your back as you pondered the suggestion.

“Wanna go out to dinner with me?”

“I can not eat, but i’d be happy too come with you.” Connor’s reply was fast as if he expected it. He removed himself and set his hand on your own that held the pencil. He blinked staring at all the notes of all the officers, but squeezed your hand. “Let’s go.”

Connor wasn’t sure what he was feeling, or why he held your hand the rest of the ride home.

Numerous times after that mini ‘date’, which consisted of you trying to calm down and Connor’s own confessions, you practically saw Connor everyday.

In the mornings when you came in and just went to the lab, he was there a bag of food and a iced coffee. He’d tell you good morning and sit with you as you ate breakfast.

He would then go find Hank, but not before giving you a hand squeeze which was beginning to make you embarrassed, never being one used to affection. Let alone one from an android. He would leave little post it notes that gave you more clues for the case as well as words of taking power naps and eating properly. On numerous occasions he would bring you lunch, something he said he got from the place Hank goes too.

It was all a bit overwhelming, Chris(sometimes Hank) had been the only ones to catch on to your horrible habits, they were the ones who typically got you food and drinks. Chris having to physically rip you out of your lab(nothing funnier than witnessing a grown man being carried over shoulder of a police officer).

Overall you didn’t say you didn’t appreciate the care he gave. Case by case he seemed more human, he told you how he let go of so many deviants when he got a chance to shoot how he wasn’t sure what was happening.

You felt like you knew exactly what was happening.

At one point he asked to go out to dinner with you again, to which you agreed with a bit of a blush. As you two walked side by side, you could his fingers touch your own as if he wanted to hold you hand.

And on some occasions you let him.

The final time you met up with Connor it felt different, he was dressed in casual clothing something that looked nice on him and he seemed to be in a rush. You watched as he asked around for you to the remaining officers, Chris pointed to the area you were in and he practically sprinted to you.

You watched him get closer and closer, the coffee in hands being set down. “Hey Connor what’s up, how are you? Did you see the news?”

“Yes,” Connor nodded to the new question. “I’m feeling……free, not restricted anymore. It’s a bit much too take in.”

“About time.” You joked, Connor’s lips quirked up at the notion, seemingly more genuine. “So deviant….”

“It’s going to take some use getting accustomed to,” Connor shifted on his feet, “Which is why I came to tell you something that I’ve been meaning to tell you since that one night.”

You cocked your head curiously. “And that is?”

“I think I am in love with you.”

If you had been drinking the coffee you were sure it’d be everywhere by now. “Connor….?”

“I understand if you don’t feel the same way, after all I am an android an-”

“Connor.”

He sighed, something you thought he didn’t need to do, “Yes.”

“I think I love you too.” You confessed. “Though it’s a new feeling for me too…haha.” The android seemed deep in thought, and you tilted your head, “What’s going on Connor?

He grasped your hands in his and crouched to match your height, then leaned forward to kiss you. It was awkward, since he had no clue what to do but it didn’t matter he had time to learn. He pulled away quickly, cheeks tinted blue.

“You can blush?” You shouted, hands cupping his cheeks. His own hands rested on your knees.

He darkened even more.”Yes, now I have to go. I’ll take you out to dinner later okay.”

“It’s a date!” You shouted to his figure that ran and ran away, you noticed Chris raise his eyebrows at the words. But you paid him no heed as you touched your lips. “Hmmm, stole a kiss from me……what a man.”

[sixhours]

Dreaming Hours

Author: 6hoursgirl Category: V Subcategory: MSR Rating: NC-17

A companion to Waking Hours; six vignettes from Mulder's point of view.

Mulder shuffles down the narrow corridor, every step an effort as he makes his way to her makeshift room at McMurdo Station. The windowless hallway doesn't hint at the time, but his body cries for sleep. The lingering trauma of his head injury, jet lag, and the effect of full-body exertion have left him bone-tired and weary.

But she's alive.

The thought moves him, draws him toward her like a moth to flame.

He knocks lightly, nudging the door open to find her curled on her cot. He doesn't mean to wake her, isn't sure what he would say if he did. The last sixteen hours are a blur of cold and pain, but he wants to see her—needs to see her—to convince himself it wasn't a dream, that they really clawed their way out of the bowels of an alien craft, only to watch it disappear beyond the Antarctic skyline.

Her eyes flutter open before he can steal away, realizing he's been standing in the doorway for what could be seconds or minutes or hours. Her very presence warps time, an X-File of its own, one he isn't yet brave enough to investigate.

"Mulder," she says. Her face is mottled, shiny from the ointment meant to soothe the frostbite across her cheeks. Her hair is matted, caked through with a yet-to-be-identified substance that wouldn't wash out in the shower.

She is still the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

"Are we…going?"

He shakes his head, the gesture so painful he has to suppress a wince. "They're not expecting the plane for another six hours at least. Rest up."

She closes her eyes and nods, a testament to her exhaustion that she doesn't protest. Her voice cracks on each syllable like the weakened shell of an egg. "Stay with me?"

He takes a seat by the foot of her cot and tips his head back, resting it by her knee, a pose reminiscent of their first case in Oregon.

"Mulder…about before…I shouldn't have left—"

His head spins, he'll blame it on the angry red scab on his temple. "Don't, Scully."

"Listen to me—"

"You have nothing to apologize for. We don't have to talk about this now," he continues more gently, shifting on the concrete floor. He's not sure if he's more embarrassed about having tried to kiss her, or for lacking the presence of mind to think something as fleeting as a kiss could convince her to stay.

"Let me…finish," she says, unexpected strength at the ragged edges of her voice. "I shouldn't have quit. I was—"

"You have nothing to—"

"No," she says, and he can see her desperation as she leans up on one shoulder to look him in the eye. "I'm glad you didn't…let me off the hook."

He swallows his protest, a hard, bitter lump in his throat. Her loyalty is too much to accept, but he nods and reaches for her hand. She sighs and eases back onto the cot, satisfied the message has gotten across.

"We have a long trip. You should rest while you can," he murmurs. "I'll stay."

"Wake me…when it's time to go," she whispers, already drifting off.

Their breaths mingle in the stillness, but he can no longer sleep, heart thrumming with the miracle of her presence and the burden of his guilt.

They hadn't even been drunk.

Sleep-deprived, sure. High on the natural antioxidants found in black tea? That was a stretch. But she was naked in his bed, and neither of them were intoxicated, injured, or otherwise traumatized.

He hasn't dared close his eyes since she came to him, drifting into his bedroom like a hesitant spirit. If he closes his eyes, she'll fade away.

She'd be unhappy to know she's contributing to his insomnia, but watching her sleep is far more entertaining than staring at his reflection.

Her lips twitch and a furrow forms at her brow. Does she have nightmares? They've slept together once, and suddenly he doesn't know anything about her. He wants to wake her to ask what she's dreaming, what she's thinking. He wants to know everything.

He looks away, feeling like an intruder. Unwilling to be caught staring, he eases out of bed, pulls on boxers, and goes to the living room. The blanket he'd tucked around his partner's sleeping form is crumpled on the couch; he picks it up, bringing it to his nose. It smells like her; warm and sweet.

His stomach growls, reminding him that it's been several hours since he's eaten. He's reaching for the fridge when her voice, rich and low, carries into the kitchen.

"Looking for a midnight snack?"

"You spying on me, Scully?"

She chuckles. "Seven years, Mulder. If I'm a spy, I'm doing a terrible job."

"Or you're playing the long game. Work your way into my good favor, get me into bed, make me spill all my dirty secrets in a fit of post-coital transparency."

She arches an eyebrow in reply, and he shifts his weight, unable to hide what this exchange does to him. She's standing in his apartment at three in the morning wearing nothing but his t-shirt and the smug, satisfied look of a woman who knows exactly what she's doing.

"I, uh, think there's leftover Chinese," is all he can manage to say. "It's breakfast in London."

"A man after my heart," she murmurs.

Minutes later, they huddle over steaming plates of fried rice and orange chicken. She's curled into the corner of the couch, bare legs tucked underneath her, his shirt long enough to pull over her knees. There's orange sauce on her upper lip, and he resists the urge to lean over and kiss it away.

"Y'know, we never finished our conversation…before we…before I passed out," she says lightly. "And I don't think there are any wrong choices."

"So you're saying you believe in fate? That the outcome is inevitable?"

She shakes her head, chewing thoughtfully. "No. I'm saying that when we get to a point isn't as important as how we get there."

He watches her, momentarily lost in time, thinking of the how; seven years of signs, all of them pointing back to her.

"Oh, I didn't ask about your crop circles," she says, licking an errant grain of rice from her thumb. "What did I miss?"

"Nothing," he shrugs. "Kids with too much free time on their hands."

"I'm sorry it didn't work out."

"It did, though," he says, smiling slightly. "Just…not in the way I expected."

Understanding paints her face like the dawn, a gentle blush across her cheeks in the dim glow of morning. The future spills out in front of them like sunlight.

The sun has yet to peek over the horizon, not yet stealing into their motel room through cracks in the curtains, when he wakes to her fingers splayed on his lower abdomen, her mouth lapping at the sensitive skin along his collarbone.

"Feeling better, I take it," he whispers, a morning-rough voice that reminds him he hasn't slept. He should turn over and try to catch a few more hours, he'll be wrecked without it, but her hand slides lower and her tongue is worrying his earlobe, and he's already forgotten what he was going to say.

"Mmm," she purrs, intent on the task at hand.

He opens his mouth to protest, but five soft, tight fingers have already tugged down the front of his boxers and wrapped themselves around his cock. He pushes up into her fist involuntarily, barely suppressing a groan.

"Thought we had a rule about this."

"You want me to stop?" she teases, deftly stroking her hand along his length with just the right amount of pressure.

"God no," he gasps.

She brings him to the brink, circling the head of his cock with her thumb, sliding up and down until he has to push her away to settle the racing of his heart. He turns over, slipping open the buttons on her shirt as she settles back against the pillows. Her hair makes lazy red swirls against the crisp cotton, ivory skin against the arctic white of the sheets.

He returns the favor, letting his lips play along the line of her jaw, at the sensitive spot just behind her ear, before capturing her mouth in his. His fingers trail along her sides, her breasts swollen and heavy in his hands. She whimpers when his tongue scrapes the sensitive peak of a nipple, but shakes her head when he asks if he should stop.

He kisses the spot over her womb and has a blinding flash of intuition, and he knows—he knows—that something vital has shifted. It blossoms in his chest, faint hope pressing against his ribs. He smothers his words against the soft, sweet skin of her stomach. It's not possible. He can't drag her back into the darkness on a hunch, and their miracles are too few and far between.

The thought is lost in a pleasure haze as his mouth meets the juncture of her thighs, as her hands grip at his hair, fingernails scratching an erotic brand into his scalp. She tastes different, sweeter. The faintest sweep of his tongue along her clit renders her gasping, arching, hissing through her teeth. If he didn't know better, he'd think it had been weeks since she'd been touched. With the diligent thrust of his tongue between her legs, she comes, stifling her cries in the pillow.

"God that was—was—" she reaches for the words, the shock evident on her face.

"Shh," he murmurs, nuzzling his way back to her, his mouth skittering over the gentle swell of her belly, hips coming to rest in the cradle of her pelvis. She kisses him with a thirst reminiscent of their first time. Soon she's writhing underneath him, reaching between them to stroke his cock. "Need you," she gasps. "Now…"

"Easy, easy," he whispers, letting her guide him inside with a mutual groan of pleasure, shuddering at her soft, wet heat. He rocks into her at a languid pace, content to watch her expressions, her swollen lips open and inviting. He leans down until his chest is pressed to hers, hungry to taste her, to enfold and protect her from the inevitable harm that awaits.

She hums her approval into his mouth, the hollow of his throat, her breath coming in short pants as he feels her swell around him. She comes with a whimpering cry, muffled by his collarbone. The graze of her teeth against his skin and the shuddering contractions around his cock send him over the edge.

In the aftermath, he won't remember the strange and unspoken flash of insight, or the hope so briefly ignited inside him. He drifts off with her back to his chest, fingers absently tracing the curls at the juncture of her thighs before coming to rest over the gentle swell of her abdomen and the nameless beat of a second heart.

She's in the bathroom again.

It happens every night; he counts the seconds, and tonight he gets to somewhere in the six-hundreds before he throws off the scratchy blanket and meets her at the door.

She blinks, hiding her shock, a fleeting glance of fury buried from the moment she meets his eyes.

"Scully…"

It's been weeks, faceless motel to faceless motel, pseudonym after pseudonym. She only leaves the bed when she thinks he's asleep, but he never sleeps. The muffled sound of her keening is an abysmal lullaby.

Their son should be resting between them, but they only have a phantom, a ghost, invisible and impenetrable as steel.

He's blocking her way; she shifts left, he goes right.

"Scully, please."

"What?" she snaps. Her eyes go from dull, muddy gray to bright, angry blue. "Mulder, move."

He shakes his head. "Scully, we need…I need…"

"Sleep," she says. "We need to sleep."

"We won't sleep," he sighs. "We need to talk."

"There's nothing to say," she says, ducking her head. The line of her jaw pulses with unspoken rage.

"There's…everything," he insists, the words refusing to come. "I can't…we can't do this. If we're going to live like this—"

"This isn't living," she says. "It's nothing. Nothing," she spits, brushing his left side roughly as she squeezes between him and the narrow wall.

He grabs her arm, spins her around. "Scully, I need you to talk to me. It's been six weeks—"

"There's nothing to say, Mulder," she says, voice rising, eyes shimmering like the pavement on a hot day. "Everything is the same. Every day is the same, there is nothing to say, nothing to talk about that we haven't talked about a hundred times, and even if there were—"

She stops herself, clenches her fists.

"Even if there were, what?" he whispers, readying himself for a blow that doesn't come.

She wavers, barely restrained. "Just…let's go to sleep."

"No."

"Mulder—"

"No, Scully. I'm not losing you over this. I need you with me, I need to know you're—"

"I'm with you! I can't be anywhere else because I'm with you. What else do you want from me?"

There's a banging from next door, muffled voices yelling through the thin walls. "Keep it down!"

Mulder glares at the source before turning back to his partner. "I want…I want this to be OK."

She looks at him incredulously. "Things are not OK, Mulder. There is nothing even remotely OK about this."

"You think I don't know that?" he hisses. "I'm just trying to help."

"Our son is gone," she says, each word sharp enough to cut. "Gone. There is nothing you can do. There is nothing. We have nothing."

"We have each other."

The tilt of her head and the ragged rush of breath in and out of her lungs reminds him that it isn't true. It isn't enough.

The words escape before he can stop them, born of too many sleepless nights, of bitter resentment and despair. "You gave him up!"

The slap barely registers; the sound of her hand meeting his cheek, the sting at his jaw. He stares at her in dumb disbelief.

The knock at the door is like a gunshot in the aftermath.

Mulder glances through the peephole. "What do you want?"

"Just makin' sure I don't need to call the cops," the motel manager drawls, the threat ringing clear.

Mulder closes his eyes, clenches his jaw. "We're fine. Sorry for the trouble."

A long pause. "M'am?"

"Fine," Scully says. "Everything's fine."

Another heavy pause as they wait for the verdict.

"Alright then. But if y'all can't keep it down, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave."

"Won't happen again," Mulder says, catching Scully's eye. She nods in silent agreement.

He waits for the sound of retreating footsteps before reaching for their bags. Scully is already gathering supplies from the bathroom. They're packed and heading west within minutes, Mulder at the wheel, Scully curled in the passenger seat.

They drive the long road in heavy silence, until a glimmer of golden light spills over the horizon. When they've put another two-hundred miles behind them, Mulder pulls over at the side of a narrow desert road. He opens the door, unfolding his long legs and stretching away the hours.

He leaves the car and walks to the edge of the unending landscape. His cheek burns, marked by his own shame.

There's the creak of the car door opening behind him, footsteps in the gravel. Her arms come around his waist, face pressed to his back.

"He's gone," she whispers, so soft he almost doesn't hear.

He looks over his shoulder, catches a glimpse of her rusty, tangled hair. His voice is thick from the dry air and lack of sleep. "I know we wouldn't be here if it weren't for me. I know you…you did what you had to do," he murmurs.

Her fingers knot in the fabric of his t-shirt, and he feels her tears seeping through. He doesn't turn around for fear of what they'd have to face, but he can hold her, if only for a moment.

His hands find hers, stroking over the familiar ridges and valleys of her knuckles, the landscape of his heart cupped in the palm of his hand.

He'd planned this trip as a celebration of their freedom. Two weeks of white, sandy beaches and the warm blue waters of the Caribbean, and yet, something hovers over his partner like a black cloud. He can feel it when he sits beside her, when she barely shifts at his presence, instead staring off into the distance. It reminds him of a not-so-distant past, lonely motel rooms and endless desert highways.

They're supposed to have put that behind them.

He walks onto the balcony, perching on the lounge chair next to hers with his hands clasped between his knees.

"Hey. You lost the sun."

She looks surprised at his presence, as if she doesn't expect to find him here, as if they hadn't made love on that same chair not eight hours prior. "Hmm?"

Mulder gestures to the encroaching shadow. "You're in the shade."

"I hadn't noticed," Scully murmurs.

"Mm. I was thinking we could walk down to the beach later. See if the water's as warm as it looks."

"Sure," she says distantly. "That sounds nice."

He swallows, looks out at the rolling ocean, trying to see what she sees.

"I was reading the hotel guide—we can rent a rowboat and explore the bay," he says, attempting to draw her into conversation.

She shoots him a look. "The last time we rented a boat, it ended up at the bottom of a lake. They docked our pay for six months."

"This is a much smaller boat, Scully"

"That's supposed to make me feel better?"

"C'mon, Starbuck. I thought you were the sailor."

"You're thinking of my father."

"No, I'm most definitely thinking of you. I don't think your father would fit into that skimpy little outfit I saw in your suitcase, either."

She forces a smile but doesn't take the bait.

"What's wrong, Scully?"

It's impossible to tell what she's thinking on the best of days, but today her eyes are hidden behind dark glasses, her brow shaded by the wide brim of a hat. At first he doesn't think she'll speak up; when she does, her voice is flat.

"He didn't make it."

"Who?"

"Christian."

He swallows hard.

"He passed in his sleep," she continues. "I got the call Wednesday night."

They'd left Thursday morning. "You didn't say anything," Mulder says. "Why?"

"There wasn't anything I could have done. His parents aren't pressing charges, but they didn't want to see me. Father Ybarra suggested I take the time off. We'll discuss the consequences when I get back."

"Consequences? What, like—"

"It was a risk. I knew that going into it," she frowns, toeing at the sand. "It's done."

"The parents signed a waiver, right?"

She nods. "But I went against the hospital board. And I don't think I could stay there even if they weren't planning to fire me."

The injustice burns in his chest, but he bites the inside of his cheek. "Hey, it'll be alright. We don't need the money."

"He was twelve," she says hollowly. "A boy. He didn't deserve—"

She doesn't finish. Mulder reaches over to take her hand, to touch her through the fog. "You did what you could," he whispers.

She shakes her head and pulls her hand away, a tear sliding from beneath the dark shades. "It wasn't enough."

It seems too bright to be discussing this; the sky is offensively blue, the sea a perfect turquoise against the white sand beach. No amount of darkness should be able to touch them here.

"Scully—"

She swipes at her eyes, then gets up, signaling the end of the conversation. "I'm going to get a drink. Want anything?"

You, he thinks. Our son.

He follows her to the kitchen, watches as she pours herself a glass of wine. His new passport lays open on the countertop, but the face glaring up at him is unfamiliar. It's been years since he's had a form of ID that wasn't forged and delivered in a plain manila envelope with no return address. The man on the sleek plastic paper is old, weathered—a far cry from his younger self.

The lines around Scully's eyes and mouth tell a similar story. Without the glasses, she looks tired. She leans against the counter, sipping her wine. There's a sigh, as if in resignation, before she squares her shoulders and forces a smile. With the gesture, her mask falls firmly back into place.

"We should be celebrating," she says. "Take me out, Mulder."

Something in the back of his mind cries for him to confront the ghost in the room, but outside, the warm water beckons. The prospect of smoothing sunblock onto his partner's naked back weakens his resolve.

"Why don't you put on that skimpy little outfit, and we'll go find that boat rental place?"

She puts down her drink and takes his hand. "Only if you promise no sea monsters."

Age has only served to worsen his insomnia, so Mulder is awake when she shows up on his doorstep on a Sunday morning just before dawn, carrying a tray of fancy coffee—hand ground, fair trade, and nothing like the Folgers crystals he buys in bulk.

"Scully…?"

"Can I come in?"

He steps aside, opens the door. She moves carefully, like a guest rather than the name on the deed.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I, um…I went out for coffee and got halfway back to the apartment before I realized I'd bought two."

He quirks an eyebrow. "So you drove an hour out of your way? It's probably cold…"

"If you don't want it—"

"No, no, I'm glad you came—thanks," he says, cursing his big mouth, reaching for the proffered cup and taking a long sip. It's lukewarm, barely palatable, but he'll drink the whole thing. Both of them, if she asked.

God, he's hopeless.

She watches with a mixture of hesitation and amusement, shrugging off her coat before taking a sip from her own cup. Extra cream, no sugar, he thinks. He knew her coffee order long before he knew what kind of underwear she wore, before he knew what color toothbrush she kept by the sink. That was a lifetime ago.

Lightened of the coffee, she stands by the table, eyes flitting about the room. He's suddenly glad he cleaned up yesterday. It never used to bother him that she was privy to his mess, but after she'd left…well.

A lot of things changed after she left.

She glances down, tilts her head in a silent question. He follows her gaze, realizes he's wearing his workout sweats, the knees stained dark with soil.

"Oh, uh, I was pulling weeds. The garden," he gestures outside to the overgrown vegetable patch.

"You never liked gardening."

"I don't. I mean, I didn't. But there's only so much running I can do at my age, and my therapist says it's good to keep busy," he shrugs.

"Ahh," she nods, ducking her head. They talk around these things now; therapy, co-dependence, the impossibility of them.

"Mulder, about the other night…I just wanted to say thank you. For being here," she says, and he can tell from the flush in her cheeks how much it took for her to come. Knows the coffee was an excuse, rather than a reason.

"I've always been here," he says, hoping he sounds kind, rather than bitter. He's not bitter, he realizes. It had taken them working together to see that.

She nods, sips at her drink, thinking. "I also wanted to apologize…"

"What for?"

"When I left…" she says, drifting off, not meeting his eyes. "I wanted you to know how much it hurt that you couldn't…stop searching. I wanted us to be enough, and when it wasn't…"

She trails off, and he waits, afraid to move for fear of breaking the spell.

"The hurt didn't go away," she murmurs. "It was still there, under all the resentment."

She bites her lower lip hard enough to leave a mark, the skin turning bright pink. The silence stretches out, winds itself around Mulder's ribs, makes it impossible to breathe.

"I thought—" she begins, but fumbles, hands betraying her as her coffee cup hits the floor.

"Fuck," she gasps. She drops to her knees, plucking the cup from the growing puddle.

"Here," he grabs a roll of paper towels from the counter. He kneels beside her and begins to wipe up the mess, studiously ignoring the way her shoulder brushes his and lingers. He's had a lot of practice at ignoring her proximity.

"I'm sorry," she says, and he knows she's not talking about the spill.

"Don't worry about it, I'll get the rest." He stills her hands with his own, the touch eliciting a careful in breath from her.

They stand, and she makes a show of brushing off her slacks. Her lip pokes out in a frown. She catches him watching, and he resists the urge to smooth back his hair, wonders if he has something between his teeth.

He clears his throat. "I can make a fresh pot."

"I'd like that."

He goes to the kitchen, finds the canister of grounds. He takes an inordinate amount of pleasure in measuring out a portion for two, and is reaching for the mugs when she speaks.

"I didn't know you had a copy…"

She's staring at something with such intensity that for a fleeting moment, he's envious, then guilty when he realizes she's holding the picture of William. He'd pulled it out after their conversation, suddenly desperate to see their son, to remind himself that the person they dreamed of was real, and not a shared figment of two troubled imaginations.

"Yeah," is all he can manage. "It's, uh, him."

Her face changes then, an expression so unexpected he wonders if he's dreaming. She smiles.

"I took that a few weeks before the adoption…he was so riled up that night, I couldn't get him to sleep. He wanted to play, he was talking…he always reminded me of you when he was like that," she says. "Once he got started, you couldn't calm him down."

"Babies don't listen to reason either, huh?"

"Not ours," she snorts, fingering the softened edge of the photograph. "No, I think he inherited a double dose of stubbornness. He came by it honestly."

"I wanted more," he says, surprising himself.

She looks up at him in disbelief.

"More kids. One more. If you'd wanted…once things settled…I mean."

"You never told me."

"I never…there was your residency and I wasn't…exactly, uh, legal," he says, rubbing at the back of his neck. "I guess things never really settled."

She considers this with something like curiosity and sorrow. "Would having another child have changed anything?"

He swallows. "It wasn't about that…about us. I mean, it was about us, but it wasn't…I wanted to be a dad. I wanted to be his dad."

This earns him a sad smile. "I know."

Something about the way she looks at him gives him hope. When the coffee has finished brewing, they sit at the table, the picture of William between them.

"Look, Scully…I can't let you take the blame. I should have said something when it mattered. Maybe if I had…you'd be here. And you wouldn't have to bring me cold coffee."

She smirks. "Well…this isn't so bad. I can think of worse ways to spend a Sunday morning."

When their mugs are empty and the conversation slows, she reaches for her coat.

"I should get back. It's laundry day, and I still have a stack of case reports to read. I'd forgotten how much of the FBI is paperwork."

He resists the urge to ask her to stay; tamps down on it, wrestles it into submission. "Oh, sure."

She lingers by the door. "Thanks, Mulder. This was nice."

He stuffs his hands in his pockets, nods as she's turning to go. "Hey," he blurts out, only faintly aware of what he's going to say before he opens his mouth. "What if we made it a date? Same time next week?"

She arches an eyebrow. "A date, Mulder?"

He swallows, a subtle heat creeping up his neck. "Not a date-date, just a—"

"Sure," she cuts him off, smiling. "I'd like that."

He returns her smile, feels the delicate burn of hope in his chest. "I'll have the coffee ready."

[sanny-chan5]

Getting to know me :D

1. What is you middle name? I don’t have one. I think this question is thought for American people, because almost all of them have one, right? 2. How old are you? 23. 3. When is your birthday? March 2. 4. What is your zodiac sign? Piscis <3 5. What is your favorite color? Sweet, light pink 💗 6. What’s your lucky number? 13, surprisingly, but not my fav one. 7. Do you have any pets? No. 8. Where are you from? Spain. 9. How tall are you? 1’56-7 m. 10. What shoe size are you? Ummm, it depends on the shoes, but 37-8 normally. 11. How many pairs of shoes do you own? About 10 or so. 12. What was your last dream about? Me peacefully talking with a kid while he draws in class. 13. What talents do you have? I think I can read people’s feelings and reflect about human’s condition pretty well. I can also draw in manga style (not a pro, though, but I love it). 14. Are you psychic in any way? Yes LOL. 15. Favorite song? “Stay the Same”, by Mai-K <3 16. Favorite movie? This one is difficult af, I don’t think I have one yet. 17. Who would be your ideal partner? WOW. Like… idk??? Someone really dreamy and encouraging. Empathetic, I don’t ask for him to understand me, but VALIDATING me/my values/ideals is a must. 18. Do you want children? Yes :) 19. Do you want a church wedding? No… I prefer a “castle” wedding. I’m very romantic in that aspect and, well, dreaming is free :’) 20. Are you religious? Not really… but I’m very spiritual/intrinsec and I respect everyone’s religious believings as long as they’re not dangerous for someone else. 21. Have you ever been to the hospital? Yes. Not like hospitalized, but I have been there. 22. Have you ever got in trouble with the law? Never, not really planning to. 23. Have you ever met any celebrities? If a voice actor of my country ora n idol counts, yes :’) 24. Baths or showers? Baths, so relaxing <3 25. What color socks are you wearing? A brownish-pink colour J 26. Have you ever been famous? No, not that I’m planning to. 27. Would you like to be a big celebrity? NO. 28. What type of music do you like? Many different kinds, but pop and j-pop anime songs are my favourite and what I listen to daily. 29. Have you ever been skinny dipping? Umm, nope. 30. How many pillows do you sleep with? A big one <3 (so comfy >-<) 31. What position do you usually sleep in? Either cudlle up like a burrito roll or spread up lol. 32. How big is your house? Not so much. We had a BIG chalet before but lost it because of the crisis. Now my family and I live in an ordinary, cutely little, flat <3. 33. What do you typically have for breakfast? Cola-cao with cereals/toasts with butter and jam. Ñaaam 😋 34. Have you ever fired a gun? NO. Again, not that I want to… 35. Have you ever tried archery? No, but I’d like to try it al least once. I’d probably suck at it though 😂 36. Favorite clean word? Mm… don’t know D: Probably a cute japanese one ‘cause otaku life (2 dedos). 37. Favorite swear word? Whoa, I don’t think I should answer this xD 38. What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without sleep? A whole night, and I don’t recomend anyone, honestly. 39. Do you have any scars? A tiiiiny one on my knee, but nothing serious as to name it “scar”, I guess (children’s playful life c:) 40. Have you ever had a secret admirer? Uumm… I don’t know, maybe? I had a guy who told me he had been trying to find me for 6 years after I moved the first time, but hat only got me scared, so… xD 41. Are you a good liar? NO. OMG no x’DD But I treasure that about me, you freaking dirty society :c 42. Are you a good judge of character? YES. Usually I am. 43. Can you do any other accents other than your own? I suppose, but I don’t know if I imitate them well or not though ^^’ Sorry for that u.u 44. Do you have a strong accent? No. Not that I think. 45. What is your favorite accent? Uffff. In my country there are so many accents I like. The Andalusian one, the one of Extremadura… xD don’t know if those count. 46. What is your personality type? Type, like, in MBTI? INFP 💙🧡💚💗💖 47. What is your most expensive piece of clothing? Umm, I don’t remember… 48. Can you curl your tongue? I think I can’t xD 49. Are you an innie or an outie? Innie xD I don’t get why, but I feel awkward about this x’DD 50. Left or right handed? Right-handed. 51. Are you scared of spiders? YES. Any insect really. 52. Favorite food? Don’t have ONE, but my favourite ones are “mixed” food (sorry, I don’t know how to name them, but I refer to foods made with a great amount of ingredients: paella, Spain stew, Russian salad, rice with lobster or Chinish fried rice) I’m seriously getting hungry now x). 53. Favorite foreign food? CHINESE FRIED RICE (“Arroz 3 delicias” in spanich, if you know what I mean :’)) 54. Are you a clean or messy person? Cleanly messy?. I can find anything in my own mess and I feel good about it. Though I can’t stand other people’s mess, I guess I just feel control over my mess (?). 55. Most used phrased? I don’t know really D’: “How can this be so cute?!!”? 56. Most used word? Kawaii. I love all fluffy, cute characters, persons, animals, objects, moments or whatever thing it is. Sorry, not sorry. 57. How long does it take for you to get ready? 30-40 min. normally. 58. Do you have much of an ego? Not an arrogant ego, but I totally respect everyone’s honour because I hate feeling humiliated. And I have a say in that… 59. Do you suck or bite lollipops? Suck them then bite them? 60. Do you talk to yourself? YES. Sorry not sorry. It helps organazing your mind. 61. Do you sing to yourself? ALSO YES. I sing every single of the day, practically xD I’m usually at home, listening to music in my PC.

62. Are you a good singer? As I said, I enjoy it, but I don’t sing well, so I’m not doing this publicly if it’s not with people I trust, and even then...

63. Biggest Fear? To die alone not prepared for it as I realice I didn’t live my way. And to be constantly critized by society. Why can’t I live my life freely?! 64. Are you a gossip? I hate it but like the 80% of my whole family is. So many times it’s very difficult not to be. I hate criticisms and don’t feel well recieving so I don’t want to be like this. I’m working about it now :c 65. Best dramatic movie you’ve seen? Mmm… don’t remember L 66. Do you like long or short hair? Both. I have it shoulder-leight right now :D 67. Can you name all 50 states of America? No xD Not good with geography… if it’s Japan, then… 😝 68. Favorite school subject? Music/art. I enjoyed Language too. But my favourite ever was PHILSOPHY. 69. Extrovert or Introvert? Introvert. INFP, remember? ^^ 70. Have you ever been scuba diving? No, but I’d love it too! :D I’m afraid of sharks, though, not sure if that’s actually a problem… (think) 71. What makes you nervous? SO. MANY. THINGS. I’m a little too much shy, so formalities/awkward social situations are the worst… terror and scary things, not feeling confident… normal things, I guess. It’s pretty easy to make me jump out of fright LOL 72. Are you scared of the dark? Only if I’m alone and not feeling well. 73. Do you correct people when they make mistakes? Yes… sorry about that :c I like being corrected if I need to, though, so feel free to tell me so that I can improve myself J 74. Are you ticklish? OMG. I don’t want to answer this xD Yes, but it’s embarrasing. Shhh… >-< 75. Have you ever started a rumor? No. I’ve never thought about it, but they usually turn bad/worse, o… I don’t feel like hurting someone else’s feelings just ‘cause I can, thank you very much. 76. Have you ever been in a position of authority? Yes, as a Preschool Teacher on practics, only J Though I’m not good with authority stuff xD 77. Have you ever drank underage? NO. Still don’t, and I don’t plan to, at least for the moment. 78. Have you ever done drugs? NO. Same as before. 79. Who was your first real crush? A high-school classmate. I’ve not fallen in love since then, btw. 80. How many piercings do you have? None. 81. Can you roll your Rs? Yes, I’m Spanish, so I’ll think of this as if I’m good with other languages’ diction. Yes, I am  x) 82. How fast can you type? I guess fast enough? 83. How fast can you run? Not much, I guess. Never good with P.E. :’) 84. What color is your hair? Brown. 85. What color is your eyes? Greenish brown (?) 86. What are you allergic to? I don’t know, I never did the allergy tests because our Sanity is so good  they never gave me an appointment ot it even if my family asked for it :’) 87. Do you keep a journal? No, but I’d like to. 88. What do your parents do? Jobs? My father’s tiler (?) and my mother “works at home” (I don’t like the “housewife” term). 89. Do you like your age? I… guess? I have had quite a number of existencial crsis already, but I want to enjoy the present and work on as many projects I can in life, so… 90. What makes you angry? MANY THINGS ABOUT THIS WORLD. Ass/arrogant people, cruelty, society giving pressure to our individual needs, … 91. Do you like your own name? Yes J It’s an ordinary one, but not that ordinary, and it’s kinda “beautiful”, I think (?) (like, it sounds good and I like it written too. There are words I just like, and there are researchs about synesthetic people, if you wanna try a look). 92. Have you already thought of baby names, and if so what are they? YES. For a girl, it’ll be Sakura or Hikari. If it’s a boy, I don’t know yet, but might be something related to Luffy, as the name of an Spanish youtuber (Lutffi, and yes he’s aware of the character, and no it wasn’t on purpose lol). I’m a weeb, aren’t I? Sorry ‘bout that >o< 93. Do you want a boy or a girl for a child? I don’t  know. I always wanted a girl, but now I’m starting to like the idea of a couple like siblings… 94. What are you strengths? Emm. I think I have great empathy, are good with psycological aspects and very flexible/open-minded. I like to try new things. 95. What are your weaknesses?Pysic aspects, not good with formalities and kinda socially awkward… I’m not a good at organizing (but I’m getting better) nor with  routines… 96. How did you get your name? My mother named me? xD 97. Were your ancestors royalty? No, I don’t think so xD. And NO, I don’t want to :( 98. Do you have any scars? What? Again? It’s a mistake, right? :o 99. Color of your bedspread? Many bright colors xD (light, not “shiny” though) 100. Color of your room? Purple and light pink.

PD: Sorry, I’m not really an interesting peroson, but I can’t help sharing this tests, I love doing them x)

[lovelydob]

Princess

Stiles x Reader

Author: lovelydob

Words: 2,260

Request: can you do smut with stiles where the reader and him are hanging out (as friends) and they end up taking it upstairs and having super rough sex (i.e. Daddy kink, hair pulling, spanking, dirty talk) and they thought they were alone but the pack shows up during the sexcapades and they get teased when they go back downstairs 

Warnings: SMUT. Rough Stiles, Oral (girl receiving), teasing, spanking, hair pulling, dirty talk, unprotected sex. Swearing is a given by now. Also, probably missed something.

A/N: Soooo. This happened. I kinda just jumped into it, so essentially it’s just porn without a plot. I’m only slightly ashamed though lol. (I have a thing for rough/dom Stiles) so it was fun to write, but it does get pretty dirty. After reading over it I noticed I need to work on my details a little more.

I may have went overboard but oh well. No regrets. Let me know what you think! Enjoy! 

(Stiles is not void in this fic)

“I'm getting something to eat, you want anything?” I ask as the ending credits start rolling on the screen in front of us.

“Uhh… maybe.” Stiles answers vaguely, making me roll my eyes in return.

“Okay, well I'm hungry and I'm getting something now. What do you want? I was thinking Chinese… what about you?” I ask as I stand up and stretch my muscles from sitting too long.

“I'll have a piece of that ass.” He replies, followed by a loud smack to my rear.

I whip myself around to face him, his eyes wide but a devious grin gracing his lips.

“Stiles Stilinski, did you just smack my ass?”

“I did.” He replies nonchalantly, standing up and slipping by me as he makes his way to the kitchen.

I stand in shock for a few moments before following him through the threshold of the kitchen with rage running through my veins.

“I’ll have you know, that is a completely inappropriate gesture. Especially for friends.” I fume.

Stiles just shrugs his shoulders as he scavenges the cupboards, letting out a defeated sigh when he doesn’t find anything worth eating.

“You said Chinese, right? I’ll call and order some stuff. Chicken-fried rice sound good? I wonder when Scott’s gonna get here...” He responds casually, only making me more confused and angry.

“Stiles!”

“What?!” He turns to me, finally letting me address the issue at hand. His face is one of confusion, his brows furrowed and mouth slightly agape. God, does he look attractive like that. This, of course, only pisses me off more.

“You smacked my ass! Where did all of this sudden confidence come from, anyways?” I seethe, my voice raising an octave or two as I place my hands on my hips.

The corner of Stiles’ mouth curls into a smug smile before he takes a few strides towards me, stopping only a few inches from my face. His breath fans over me before he speaks, and it is slightly intoxicating. I feel his hands grasp my wrists and detach my hands from my hips and pin them to my sides.

“I’ve caught you literally eye-fucking me several times now for the past two weeks. I’m not stupid.” He leans in closer, nudging his nose on the shell of my ear before continuing.

“You better lose your little attitude and drop the act, princess.” He taunts. “Because I know you loved it.”

My cheeks flush with embarrassment, slightly ashamed that he read me that easily. I fumble a few words, but nothing coherent comes out.

Stiles just chuckles before turning on his heel and heading upstairs to his room and slamming the door. I jump at the sudden bang and it jolts me out of my shocked state. I analyze what happened within the last ten minutes, contemplating whether I wanted to leave in anger, or...

“Oh, fuck it.”

I stumble up the stairs and stand it in front of Stiles’ door for a few seconds before swallowing dryly, pushing my nerves aside and knocking. I hear shuffling inside the room before the door opens abruptly and a cocky Stiles steps in front of it.

“What now, princess?” He questions patronizingly with an annoyed look.

The pet name gives me my the last bit of confidence I need to fist my hands into his shirt and push him into his room. I slam the door behind me, soon after forcing Stiles’ body against it.

His breath hitches in his throat and his eyes grow wide at the unexpected motion. The look on his face is amusing, and only excites me more.

“Call me princess one more time.” I threaten.

Stiles stumbles over his words, making me chuckle in return.

“Oh, come on, daddy. I dare you.”

Stiles’ shocked expression melts into one of complete lust. His eyes grow dark and become lidded, his tongue darts out to lick his soft, pink lips. He pushes me forward until I’m forced onto the bed, his lean body hovers over me immediately after and I feel him roll his hips against mine. The hardened length in his pants rubs directly over my clothed core, making me whimper in response.

“Two things. One, I’m in charge here. Two, what are you going to do about it, princess?” He teases as he rolls his hips again, his member growing larger with each passing second.

“Holy shit, Stiles.” I breathe, arching my back and pushing myself into him, needing more than what he’s giving me. I feel the arousal pooling in my panties from the sudden dominance.

Stiles grazes his lips over mine before ultimately attaching them to my pulse point on my neck and marking my skin. My fingers find the hem of his shirt before I remove it, forcing his lips to detach from my neck. He growls in annoyance as his hands roam down my body before ripping my own shirt over my head and tossing it onto his floor.

His mouth trails the flesh spilling over my lace bra in open mouth kisses and I whine in response, encouraging Stiles to rip the undergarment from my chest. His eyes take in my bare chest before him and he emits a low growl at the sight.

Stiles leans in to connect his mouth to my sensitive nipple, a wanton moan erupts from my chest from the action. His rough hands find the other breast, rolling my nub harshly between his thumb and forefinger.

My head rolls back onto the pillow and my back arches itself under him at the feeling. I run my fingers fingers down the planes of his body until I arrive at the tent in his pants. I pop his button and attempt to unzip his fly, but my hand is ultimately slapped away.

“Stiles, I need you.” I sigh in frustration.

I feel a jolt of pain from his teeth clamping down on my nub as he pulls from me, scraping my skin and making me cry out.

His face holds a wicked grin when I look at him, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “No. You know better than to call me Stiles.”

“I’m sorry, daddy. I just really need you to do something. Please?” I beg.

“I think you need to be punished for your attitude earlier, princess. That was very naughty of you.”

I bite my lip in anticipation. His hands find the waistband of my pants and panties before tearing them down my legs and dropping them on the floor next to him. He looks over my body and groans in appreciation. I attempt to cover myself from his gaze, but he grabs a hold of both wrist before I can manage.

“Don’t even think about it.” He warns, abruptly pulling me up from the bed and turning me around to sit on my hands and knees instead. I wiggle as I try to release some of the pressure from my core, arousal soaking my lips and thighs.

I hear the jingling and clanking of a belt, and I assume he is ridding himself of his pants. I turn my head to see what he is doing and my sight is graced with the naked silhouette of Stiles behind me. He is holding something in his hands but it is too dark to make out what it is and I didn’t care enough to tear my eyes away from his body to figure it out.

“Okay, princess. Are you going to be a good girl from now on and keep your attitude in check?” He asks seductively and I nod in response. I’m too turned on now to argue.

“This is probably going to hurt you, baby. But I promise you that it will be worth it after it’s all over. Count for me.”

I feel leather strike my skin and a plethora of pain radiates from my ass instantly, making me cry out.

“Mmm, count baby.” Stiles breathes.

“O-one.” I stammer.

Another strike. “Two.”

Tears leak from my eyes but the coil in my stomach is winding tighter with each hit.

“Three.” I sob out at the last strike as juices start leaking from my pussy from the excitement and arousal.

I hear the belt hit the floor and Stiles drops to his knees behind me, instantly rubbing the raised skin on my ass in soothing motions. He leans in and gives three soft and tender kisses, making the pain fade some.

“You were such a good girl.” He praises as he soothes me. “I think you deserve a reward for taking your punishment so well.”

I swallow dryly, my nerves igniting from the thought of Stiles rewarding me.

His hands find my knees before spreading them apart. His fingers roam over the soaked skin, my breath hitching in my throat once he makes it to my folds. He rubs over me a few times before taking both thumbs to spread me open and delving his tongue into my entrance.

My hips jerk backwards in reaction to the sudden pleasure of him thrusting in and out of my cunt. He places his hands on my ass and grips before pushing further, rubbing my walls in a delicious way.

“Fuck, Stiles. Feels so good.” I whimper. I half expect him to retort at his name, but he does nothing but moan behind me, sending vibrations throughout my body.

“Oh, god. I’m close, Stiles.” I fist my hands into his sheets and my insides clench from my impending orgasm.

“I-I need more, baby. Please?” I beg.

Stiles removes his mouth from me, and I almost scream in frustration. Before I could do so, I feel the bed dip behind me and his head runs through my folds. I shudder at the feeling of his considerable length as anticipation floods my body, knowing what is about to come.

He runs himself over me a few more times, collecting my juices along his cock. My insides are wound so tight, I feel like I’m going to explode at any moment.

“Sti-”

My begging was cut off as he drives himself into me, filling me completely and eliciting a moan of appreciation from the both of us.

“Is that what you wanted, baby? To feel my cock inside of you? You love it, don’t you?” He asks as he starts thrusting himself in and out at a slow pace.

“Fuck, yes.” I breathe.

“Say it. Say you love it.” He demands.

“I love your cock, Stiles. I love how you fill me completely.” I moan out.

I feel a hand wrap into my hair before I’m being yanked up to him, his chest pushing up against my back. He nibbles on my earlobe before whispering into my ear.

“I hope you wanted this as long as I have, princess. Your smart-ass remarks, all of the short skirts and tight pants drive me crazy. I have to say though, my imagination was nothing compared to the real thing.” He admits as he picks up his pace, angling himself perfectly to hit the sensitive wall inside me with each thrust.

His hands roam to my tits and he palms them harshly before clamping both nipples with his fingers and rolling them, making my insides clench around his twitching cock. My mind starts growing hazy from the pleasure, my orgasm approaching quickly from his words and actions.

“I want you to come all over me, think you can be a good girl and do that?” He breathes, his thrusting getting faster.

I can only nod in response, not trusting myself to talk at the moment.

Stiles growls in appreciation as he snakes his hand down my body and makes contact with my bundle of nerves, circling his fingers over me in a fast pace. I only last a few moments before my high engulfs my body.

“Fuck, Stiles!” I scream as I fall over the edge of bliss, my juices coating his cock and dripping down my own legs. I feel Stiles thrusts grow sloppy and his dick twitch before he moans my name, his seed spurting deep into my pussy with the last few hard thrusts.

After a few seconds Stiles pulls himself and gets dressed, handing me my clothes off of the floor after. I had just finished putting my clothes on before Stiles decides to tackle me onto the bed, making me giggle in response. He wraps his arms around me and kisses me a few times, a few of them on my lips, the rest on my cheek.

“I hope I wasn’t too rough.” He mumbles.

“No, I loved it.” I admit happily.

“Good. So did I.”

We lie there for a minute before my stomach starts to grumble.

“Hey, Stiles. We never ordered our food. I’m starving.”

He nods his head in agreement before helping me up off of the bed to make our way down the stairs.

I run into Stiles frozen body suddenly, my brows furrow in confusion before walking past him and stopping in my tracks at the realization.

The whole pack was sitting in his living room, not one of them would make eye contact with us.

“Oh, um. Hey guys!” Stiles says as he rubs the back of his neck from the awkwardness. “How long have you been here?” He questions nonchalantly.

Scott looks at Stiles with amusement on his face. “I don’t know, daddy. Not that long.” He says as he bursts into a fit of laughter.

I glance up as Stiles and his face is bright shade of crimson, making me chuckle at his reaction.

“I don’t know what you’re laughing about, princess.” Scott snickers, making my face heat up and probably grow brighter than Stiles’.

“Anyone in the mood for Chinese?” Malia sighs with a unimpressed look on her face.

[afterourhearts]

food i’ll miss the most in RVA

Hi guys! This is almost more of a post for myself to think back and remember all the delicious cuisine in Richmond that I won’t be able to readily access anymore. As my last month here creeps up on me, I’ve been thinking more and more about how much I’ve grown to love this little “river” city. It’s only apt that I’m taking an archaeology class about Richmond in my last semester as it only reminds me yet again about how rich in culture this place is. Of course, I’m still thrilled to head back to Ohio (or maybe Philly if the interviews went well?), but I think I’ll always be willing to visit Richmond in the future and show my future friends around this adorable place :) ok, but on to the food (not ranked in order of best or anything just places I absolutely adore):

1) Huynh’s now turned Vietnam One Vermicelli with Tofu & Spring Roll - ok so most people have tried this popular Viet dish but I’ve tried at least like 10 of these from diff. places and nothing beats the dish at Vietnam One here. It’s the TOFU. It’s seasoned and cooked to perfection; crispy on outside and soft on the inside and bursting with flavor (as opposed to a lot of other places that have pretty bland fried tofu). Honestly I could just eat the tofu and be pleased. So many memories and probably 50+ trips to this place with my apt., definitely forever going to be in our hearts.

2) Jack Brown’s BBQ chips with mac n cheese burger - only like $6, 5 minutes from my school, juiciest homemade patty, amazing pairing of creamy mac n cheese with crispy chip pieces, and all served with the most refreshing pickle. UGH I WANT IT NOW.

3) Frank West’s Pizzeria Cheese Pizza - omgomgomg so everyone here likes Christian’s which is a NY style thin crust heavy cheese pizza and also fairly good but Frank West’s is even better though less known! A local here showed it to me and I’ve been in love ever since. Crust is on a thinner side but not crazy thin, generous amounts of sauce which I love, and the cheese is speckled with some kind of seasoning that is perfection.

4) Peter Chang’s Dry Fried Eggplant - so there isn’t much Chinese food here to rave about due to the heavily viet but low chinese population in rva but they at least boast one authentic szechuan place (though hong kong house in cbus is def better) STILL they have this standout eggplant dish here that I’ve never seen elsewhere. It’s fried eggplant “fries” seasoned in szechuan flavors/cilantro and it isn’t greasy b/c it is dry fried rather than deep fried. AMAZING alternative to fries!

5) Sugar Shack Donuts esp. lemon poppyseed and strawberry lemon - ok so RVA is KNOWN for donuts and for good reason. Sugar shack has been ranked in national magazines/food blogs all the time and it has literally the yummiest donuts I’ve ever had. Coming from cbus where donuts is just Krispy Kreme, I truly can say I’ve never known anything better existed. Sugar shack is like a bigger, better krispy kreme. It doesn’t melt away in your mouth in seconds like krispy kreme but it is still so fluffy and airy inside like lightweight bakery bread almost. Planning on bringing a dozen of these home after graduation!

6) Bombolini Pasta - a little place in Carytown that has really authentic pasta and delicious sauces, as well as a bunch of homemade frozen ravioli you can buy and cook later at home. I love that the noodles here are never overcooked, like true pasta should be served :) 

7) Honey Truffle Fries and Salt n Pepper Fries with Garlic Aioli at Postbellum - this place has a cute little rooftop bar and the most amazing thin fries!!! honey + truffle oil topped with shaved parmesan - could there be a better combo?! The only fries I like better than here are the crispy BonChon ones but BonChon can be found outside of RVA too!

8) Social 52 Crab Dip with Pita - I’ve never had better crab dip, or maybe I was just really drunk xD this bar does have a ton of tasty fusion style apps though!

9) Toast Sweet Potato Tater Tots - a gastropub right beside my school that often rotates out some really unique fusion style dishes (kimchi aiolis and shiz like that) but we always come back to their staple side dish, the sweet potato tots. MMMMMM mmm mm! People make sweet potato fries all the time, but tots? wowzaa

10) Gelati Celesti Chocolate Decadence - hands down the creamiest, thickest, chocolateyest cold creamy gelato goodness you’ll ever try! 

11) Noorani’s Gobi Manchurian, Chicken 65, Egg biryani, and Seekh Kabab - omg I could go on and on about this place forever. Yes your stomach will rebel against you the following day but it is worth the later pain hahaha. I just LOVE their gobi manchurian (fried cauliflower tossed in an indo-chinese sauce), they have the most well-spiced chicken 65 ever, biryani is on the wetter side which I LOVE, and mmm the seekh kabob is served in the most amazing sauce with sliced ginger and it’s just like pakistani heaven!!! It breaks my heart thinking about how much I’ll miss this place :’( even though service is crap, food is always delicious.

12) Zzzaaaam bibimbap bowls - this place is like a korean chipotle but it has every topping you’d ever want in your bibimbap at extremely reasonable prices, with a variety of super tasty sauce combos and topped with sesame oil drizzle. I always feel fairly healthy eating here too which is a bonus :) 

13) New Grand Market Cafe’s Jajungmyeon with Tangsooyuk = ehrmygawd this is the most amazing combination ever created!! Tasty hot noodles in black bean seafood sauce paired with crispy sweet & sour pork & bell peppers/onions = heaven on earth; place is also a supermarket so you can stock up on asian snacks while you’re here!

14) Chadar Thai’s Drunken Noodles and Curry Fried Rice - the best Thai place in this city. Ignore the overpriced and underwhelming Carytown places (thai diner, mom’s siam, ginger thai, thai top ten, elephant thai, thai palace, etc) and come here! Definitely the BEST and most flavorful thai place around!! Their drunken noodles are UNBEATABLE and yes I’ve tried like 7 other places so I would know lololol

15) Shyndigz Fruit Cake and Key Lime Pie - this place is the cutest little date dessert spot!! they have christmas lights everywhere indoor and outdoors and just the cutest little southern belle/rustic theme; grab a slice of their super moist and fresh fruitcake or absolutely perfectly tart key lime pie with the tastiest crust with your girls or a boo thang and enjoy it under the christmas light warm glow!! you’ll 100% have a night to remember :) 

16) Plaza Azteca burritos/enchiladas - so I’m not a huge fan of Mexican because I find a lot of the dishes bland but this place is diff. and they believe in heavy use of sauces/queso which I LOVEEEE. the free nachos/salsa they give are amazing (super thin crispy nachos and the smoothest/freshest salsa), made to order guac is perfect!!, and any of their burritos/enchiladas are bound to be completely covered in sauce and other drizzles and also laying in like a literal pool of more sauce so ohmygoodness yes I’m a big fan

17) Burger Bach New Zealand Burgers - def on the costlier side but comes with a side of fancy salad w like arugula and shiz not just iceberg lettuce and a bunch of creative dips for your fries; burger is also bigger and more flavorful than at Jack Brown’s but Jack beats this place based on price and bun and size and convenience and that freaking pickle ... lol burger bach to jack browns is like shake shack to in-n-out ... one is obvs more expensive and better in quality but the other is unique in taste and affordable sooooooo ya just love BOTH!

18) Mama J’s Southern Kitchen - if you want real soul food this is where its at; here is the only place I like collard greens and they have the sweetest yams and amazing catfish (only place better was in new orleans!) and these freaking awesome wings you must ask for tossed in something called Edy’s sauce. not even sure wtf is in that sauce but it’s bliss

19) Addis Kitchen’s Injera - have you tried ethiopian bread before?? liz and I came across this place when we went to a lackluster italian festival and still needed more food and tried injera for the first time. it was delicious!! it’s a sour, spongey bread that isn’t heavy at all you could literally eat it for ages and just paired amazingly with their veggie/meat dishes which remind me of indian curries a bit. def an experience i’d recommend!

20) Foo Dog’s Fried Tofu and Malaysian Ramen - ok so this place is no fukuryu but the coconut based lemongrass soup is really tasty (noodles need work) and their fried tofu app is deliciously stuffed with a bunch of flavorful veggies and sauces and if you want some bao sandwiches/asian street food combos this is def a good place!

21) Continental Westhampton’s Poutine Fries - omggg this plate of fries is not only covered in gravy but also scallions and an EGG and cheese and if this isn’t your idea of dream loaded fries idk what is

22) Galaxy Diner Malt Shakes and Pickle Chips - so this diner serves breakfast all day and is perfect for post drinking food binges that will do major damage to your waistline but all the greasy foods are just okay in my opnion; really not a standout place except for the funky atmosphere/lighting and one particularly spectacular drink: their malt shakes!!!!!! enough said

23) Don’t Look Back Fish Tacos (traditional style) and Chorizo tacos (gringo style) - it’s not quite LA street taco quality but it’s about as good as it gets around here!

24) Cookout banana shake, chili cheese dogs, chicken nugs, cheese fries, and onion rings - a late night drive through that has everything you’d ever want at 2am in the morning at dollar prices. how perf is this? 

There’s probably places I’m forgetting (as you can tell I’ve eaten out a LOT in college hahahhaa) so I’ll try to keep updating this but for now, these are the places that will always have a special place in my heart and that I highly recommend you trying if you’re ever heading to VA beach and feel compelled to stop by adorably historic and tasty Richmond!