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rorywritesjunk · 5 months

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No longer locked upon the land but free on the rolling waves

You and Buggy come face to face with himself from the past, and while you’re fully accepting that this is your husband as a child, Buggy doesn’t want to accept it.

Rating: PG-13ish, but just due to some swearing.

Warning: Upset kid, upset husband. Reader is way too nice, doesn’t necessarily take husband’s feelings into account as well.

A/N: A combined request. I did a few versions of this story before feeling like it hit the marks I was wanting to hit. Also, I’m just trying to vibe off what I’ve seen of Kid Buggy. I’m no expert. I’d protect that kid with my life. He’s so adorable. I also like the trope of “Meeting your self from another time” and “gets turned back into kid-self”. This is the former, and I know shit about time travel but I just kind of made something up. This story has also been a lot of fun to work on and the reaction from people has been lovely, thank you! There's at least one more chapter (unless I get a surge and suddenly write way more), but I may write a few one shots about Buggy and his wife because I've come to adore her a lot. Title comes from "Sailing Song" by S.J. Tucker.

Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6/Epilogue

TAGLIST: @lostfirefly @misadventures0fdes @sylum @valen-yamyam16 @dohkyu @fluffybunnyu @skyofsteel @lavalampskyy @gingernut1314 @ane5e

Chapter Four

“Is he mad at me?” Buggy asked when the two of you were in the kitchen together. He was helping you make dinner; you gave him the task of cutting up carrots while you cut up onions and celery to throw in a large pot. Neither of you saw Buggy ever since the kid asked him about Shanks, and that was a few hours ago. He thought maybe he was in trouble, that the captain was mad at him for asking those questions.

“No, he isn’t.” You assured him as you wiped your knife on your apron. “Shanks is… a sensitive subject for him. I don’t even know what happened, but don’t worry, okay?” You smiled and took one of the pieces of carrot, popping it into your mouth. “I know the captain enjoyed showing the place off to you, y’know.”

“I liked seeing everything, especially those Buggy Balls!” Buggy grinned. “Can we fire one out of a cannon?”

“Oh uh, maybe?” You munched on the carrot as you took what he cut up so far, dumping them into the pot. “We’ll ask the captain next time we see him.”

Buggy nodded, watching the veggies get stirred in the pot for a bit before looking back up at you. “How long do I get to stay with you?”

That was a question you were waiting for but didn’t want to hear asked because you weren’t sure how to answer it. You didn’t know how long he would be with you, but what would get him home? Maybe tomorrow you could head back into town with him, see if anything can trigger his return, but part of you wanted to keep him around. Admittedly, that was a selfish want. He needed to return home because he had his own timeline to live through, and if he stayed here could it mess something up.

You smiled at him and shrugged. “I dunno, but maybe tomorrow we head into town where we met and see if anything happens. I bet you wanna head home.”

“Yea…” He trailed off, looking back down at the veggies. “But if I could stay… I think I would.”

That was a knife to the heart again, because you would let him stay if you could. You’d give him the love and attention you knew he deserved, support his dreams and endeavors, everything.

But he couldn’t stay. He needed to return home and that broke your heart. You just smiled at him and tossed some salt and pepper into the pot before pouring in some water.

“If you could, I know you would, and I’d be fine with that, Buggy.” You replied as you gave the pot a good stir before putting the lid on. “But… you have to go home at some point, because I don’t… know what could happen if you stay.” Turning to face him, you suddenly pulled him into your arms and hugged him. “I have loved having you around, you know. You’re a wonderful kid.”

He allowed the hug for a moment before pulling away, crossing his arms as he turned red. You chose not to say anything, instead just smiling and standing back up. He eyed you before bolting out of the kitchen all of a sudden, catching you off guard. What just happened? Did you upset him?

Your husband entered the kitchen at that moment, looking in the direction the kid ran off too. “What just happened?”

“I don’t know.” You said with a frown. “I hugged him and called him wonderful, then he took off.”

“Huh.” Adult Buggy shrugged and went over to the stove to see what was being made for dinner. As he lifted the lid off, seeing the soup starting to slowly simmer, the kid came rushing back in with something in his hand. Buggy frowned at his younger self. “What’s going on?”

The kid looked him up and down before turning to you, holding something in his hands. He looked smug as he grabbed your hand and placed the item into it. You were confused for a moment, and when he pulled his hand back and you saw what it was, you almost dropped it. You had completely forgotten about the pendant and this was the first time you really got to see it up close and you nearly dropped it in surprise.

“Consider this my proposal for when we meet again.” He said, looking quite proud of himself as he crossed his arms. Your husband’s jaw dropped and he raised the lid up, looking like he was going to throw it at him. You intervened and pocketed the pendant, kneeling down in front of the kid once more. It was hard not to laugh because the look of pride on the kid’s face was the same one you saw on a certain pirate captain when he asked you to marry him years ago, except you were given a bouquet of flowers with no petals (having been destroyed after he stole them and ran off with them) and a ring with a rock the size of his nose (also stolen).

“Thank you, it’s lovely.” You told him; your husband grumbled and put the lid back. He wouldn’t risk hitting you with it by accident. You leaned over and gave the kid a kiss on the cheek, choosing not to comment further when his face turned bright red. Instead, you stood up and patted him on the head. “I’ll treasure it, Buggy.”

The kid side-eyed the husband, smirking at him despite blushing brightly. The little shit, he should have at least kept it until he met you later on. It didn’t make sense to give it to you now while you were already married to his adult self, but Adult Buggy didn’t say anything after you gave him that look that told him to keep his mouth shut or there would be consequences since he would likely say something stupid. Grumbling, he decided to take a seat at the table instead, the kid taking the seat across from him. He glared at the kid and the kid just smirked. To you, this was just hilarious but you were doing your best not to start laughing.

You allowed them to fire one Buggy Ball out to the water after dinner and that was it. There was to be no town destroying during this trip and the identical grumpy looks from the two of them was amusing, but you put your foot down. You even stood by, watching to make sure it was just one, and the look of excitement on the kid’s face almost made you cave to allow a second one, but you remained strong. You didn’t cave, even when the two of them gave you doe eyes after your husband asked if they could.

And you decided to allow it after reminding the captain that it was wasting ammo, and that a demonstration was one thing, but now it was just a waste. He hated it when you pointed those things out. Reluctantly, he decided not to fire off a second one, much to his and the kid’s disappointment.

As it grew later into the evening, you decided it was time to settle in for the night. The kid was easier to get ready for bed than your own husband, but you knew the captain also needed to make sure the crew had taken care of the ship for the night as well.

The pendant was still in your pocket from the kid’s little proposal, the weight of it a reminder from a moment in your own past. You got the kid ready for bed but you didn’t change into your own sleep clothes, which he noticed and frowned at.

“You’re not ready for bed.” He pointed out as you tucked him under the covers. He reached out and grabbed your arm. “Are you leaving?”

“What? No, no.” You shook your head as you sat down on the edge of the bed. “I promise I’m not leaving the ship tonight, Buggy.” You reached over and touched his cheek softly with your free hand and he let go of you. “I need to go talk to my husband about something, but I won’t leave the room until you fall asleep, okay?”

Buggy wasn’t sure about that. You were constantly around, but now you were going to leave him alone in your room? You saw the hesitation on his face and sighed softly. “Promise I’ll be here when you wake up in the morning, but if you wake up after I leave the room tonight, you can come find me. I’ll just be out on deck with the captain, okay? I won’t be mad if you need me, Buggy.”

That seemed to help. The kid just nodded and settled down under the covers, pulling them up to his nose. You leaned down and kissed him on the forehead before straightening back up. “How about you tell me another story about your time on the Oro Jackson?”

He beamed and nodded, launching into a story about some mischief him and Shanks got into. He yawned a few times while telling it, and it wasn’t too long before his eyes closed and he fell asleep. You made sure he was comfortable, watching him for a few minutes while he slept before getting up and heading to the doorway. You looked back once more, making sure he was asleep before you left the room to go find your husband.

The captain was on deck, arms crossed as several crewmen lingered about, no doubt on the night watch shift. He glanced back at you when he heard you approach, holding his arm out to you to pull you close to him. He shrugged his captain’s coat off, draping it over you as you reached into your pocket and pulled the pendant out, holding it up to him. He frowned as he looked down at it.

It was an oval shape, cut from a piece of moss agate that when you held it up to the light, it was as though you were looking up at the sun through a thick forest of tall trees. You remember watching your father cut down and smooth the stone out to the shape it was while your mother fastened a chain to it, creating a lovely necklace for anyone who desired it. You remember it being on the table at their booth along with other pieces, but after a group walked past the table, it was missing. You remember being mad that it happened but your parents just shrugged it off, not bothered by the missing piece.

Now you had it in your hand over twenty five years later.

“What’s this?” Your husband asked as he took it out of your hand, frowning as he looked at it. He studied it for a moment, eyes widening slowly as he started to remember what it was. “This-”

“Mhm, my parents had it on the edge of their table, making it a prime target for anyone with sticky fingers to steal it.” You told him as you took it out of his hand and stuck it back into your pocket. “Didn’t think my husband was the one who stole it.”

“I-I-”

“Buggy, it’s okay.” You chuckled at the look of panic on his face. Did he think you were going to divorce him over something petty he did to your family as a kid? “I wanted to show it to you, but… I wanted to ask you something.”

“Anything.” He blurted out, trying to mask the concern on his face after seeing that pendant. “Whatever you want, babe, just don’t… ask for a divorce, please.”

“No, I’m not asking for a divorce.” You assured him, wrapping your arms around him. “But… I’m just curious what happened to you as a kid. Do you… remember any of this happening?”

He stared down at you and you tightened your arms around him, thinking he would bolt from you. Minutes went by before he finally shook his head and you frowned. He didn’t remember any of this, really?

“What… do you remember?”

He hesitated for a moment, checking his surroundings for a moment to make sure no one else was listening. The crewmen paid you no mind, knowing better than to stare or make any comments about the two of you when there was any sort of display of affection between the two of you. After what felt like an eternity, your husband sighed and just shrugged.

“I remember snatching the pendant off the table when we walked past, and I was a few steps ahead of everyone.” He reached up and rubbed his face while you continued watching him, resting your chin against his chest as you listened to him talk. “There was some kind of light and… I walked into it, but there was just a moment of darkness, like I blinked or something, and then I was back and nowhere near the crew without the pendant. They said they lost sight of me for about fifteen or twenty minutes, but they weren’t worried.”

“They weren’t worried?” You repeated with a frown. “A kid under their watch disappears for that long and they weren’t worried?”

“We’re pirates, it didn’t matter-”

“It matters to me.” You said firmly. “Pirates or not, you were a kid who got lost and ended up somewhere new and scary, Buggy. I can’t… I can’t even imagine what that would have been like.” You huffed, releasing your hold on him just a bit. “Were… you scared of the kid because of what had happened to you back then? About not remembering what happened?”

He nodded slowly. You reached up and put your hands on his cheeks, bringing his head down to kiss him. You were trying not to lose your head at that moment because the love you had for him was a lot. You’d level a city to get to him, burn down a town, and if you had the chance you’d go back with the kid and give that crew a talking to about how to handle a missing kid. It wasn’t right, fair, anything and your heart hurt knowing this. Every kid deserved love, to feel safe and protected, and here your husband just told you that the adults he knew just shrugged off the fact that he had been missing for just a few minutes, while the kid in your care had been with you almost three days.

You really wondered if you could sneak back in the timeline with the kid and give them a piece of your mind.

Your husband pulled back from the kiss first, a grin on his face as one of his hands went to your back, pulling your body closer to his.

“It’s fine now, babe, I’m fine.” He insisted as his hand slid down your back. “Seeing the kid was just… startling.”

“You threw him overboard.” You reminded him as his hand stopped at the base of your spine.

He rolled his eyes. “Stop bringing that up.”

“Don’t attempt to grab my ass when I’m being serious with you.” You shot back.

“Now hang on-”

“What’re you two arguing about?”

The two of you turned and saw the kid glaring sleepily in your direction. You pulled away from your husband and went over to him, lifting him up into your arms as he wrapped himself around you. With one arm you held him while the other pulled the coat off and draped it over him, wanting to make sure he was warm.

“Are you okay?” You asked him as you hugged him. He let his head drop onto your shoulder, nodding sleepily. “Come on, let’s go back to bed. I’m tired too.”

Your husband wanted to protest, he wanted more time with you, but the kid locked eyes with him and smirked. Oh, that little shit. Buggy huffed angrily, he would not be competing with a kid for your attention, but he was also very clingy of his wife, just like the kid was in this moment, and he would very much be ready to compete for your attention if needed.

“Buggy, come on, time for bed.” You called to him with a smile as you headed to the bedroom. The kid stuck his tongue out at the captain and he bristled angrily, ready to throw the kid overboard again if he needed to. Grumbling something about bratty kids, Buggy followed after you, wondering if he could throw the kid overboard without you noticing.

#buggy the clown #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy the clown x you #opla buggy the clown #opla buggy the clown x reader #opla buggy x reader #opla buggy the clown x you #opla buggy x you #sunny x buggy #one piece #one piece oc #one piece fanfiction

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oneofthetorturedpoets · 1 month

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she's a man-eater part 2

you've had the worst morning possible, forgot your keys in your house and had to climb through the window, car had an empty tank, bought coffee just to drop it, lost your lesson plans, had a parent scream at you because you mentioned how her kid was late three weeks in a row, stepped on gum, had a kid pee himself, forgot your lunch, your hair went flat, earring fell out during class and disappeared, all within four hours and you still have another four hours of you day to get through.

you storm through the break room, straight to the vending machine, you fumble with your cash. "damn kid, you look like you've been hit by a bus." Melissa laughs.

you whip around, glaring at her. "I am not going to deal with you after the morning I've had, so if you would kindly shut up and leave me alone, I'd appreciate it." you spit out, Melissa tenses up.

"who do ya' think you are comin' in here and talking to me like that?" Melissa stands up, stomping over to you. "just because you've had a bad morning doesn't mean you get to disrespect me, ya got it?" her Philly accent coating her words.

you scoff. "you disrespect me everyday and I always take it, now you wanna get offended when I finally stand my ground? you're so full of yourself, thinking you're all that because you act like you have a stick up your ass" her eyes go wide, as does Jacobs. everyones eyes are on you.

"I knew I had a reason not to like you, at first it was just cause you were new, then I couldn't find another reason to hate you and just when I was thinking about being nice to you, I found my reason, so thank you for clarifying how you truly act. now go before I have to get my bat." she says, just inches away from your face.

you step even closer, maintaining eye contact. "you don't scare me."

the bell rings, interrupting your argument with the red head.

"this ain't over." Melissa storms off. Barbara gets up, shaking her head in disapproval before following her. You deflate. What have you caused?

The rest of the day was hell, Melissa took her anger out on the entire school. Every time she saw you, she would clench her fists and storm off in the other direction.

"Miss y/l/n and Miss Schemmenti, get to my office, now!" Ava screams through the intercom, slightly hurting your ears. you walk down to Ava's office, sitting down in the chair next to Melissa, she scoots her chair over, trying to be as far away from you as possible.

"why am I here?" Melissa grumbles.

"because you're acting like you're going to burn the school down, also because of your argument in the teachers lounge. you both need to get over what ever it is between you two because at the end of the day, you're here to work and to respect each other. you don't have to like each other, we all know I don't like Janine, but we all need to get along. when you're on your rampage Melissa, it affects everyone, especially the students and y/n you are never like this. both of you know better"

being lectured by Ava, of all people, made you embarrassed. When she dismissed both of you, Melissa practically runs out of the room. You're quick to jump up and follow her.

"Melissa, wait." You call out, she continues her strides. "Melissa, please just let me apologize." She stops, turning into the bathroom.

"Are you seriously going to follow me into the bathroom?" She asks as you both enter.

"Yes, just let me talk." Once the door closes, she pins you between her body and the door.

Your breathes are mingled from the closeness. "You don't get to tell me what to do. I'm tired of you pushing my buttons until shit like this happens. You're so insufferable!" Just as you're about to respond, her lips interupt you. She presses into the kiss, her mind goes fuzzy as you kiss her back. The taste of cherry chapstick is the only thing you can think about. She pulls back, just enough to make eye contact.

"You're so confusing" You whisper, she smirks.

She leans in slightly. "You kissed me back."

you shake your head. "No matter how much you hate me, I can't seem to hate you." She scoffs.

"I don't hate you, I'm just... attracted to you" She kisses you again, passion lacing the kiss even more.

You pull away. "You have a weird way of showing it."

n/a: this two part series is probably my most hated one, I had such a great start for this series and lost motivation for it after I released the first part, I am so so sorry for those who were excited about it, maybe it I have a good idea for another part, ill write it but as of right now, I'm ending it. don't worry though, I will have a lot more fics with Melissa and they will be 100% thought out. thank you for reading!

taglist: @natashamaximoff-69 @lakita-fisher @esposadejoyhuerta @dopenightmaretyphoon @ricejucie @allamanamedearl @marvels--slut

#fanfic #abbott elementary #fem!reader #my fic #wlw fiction #law #lisa ann walter #melissa schemmenti fic #melissa schemmenti x reader

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the-badger-mole · 5 months

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The Volunteer: Part 2

The first day of volunteering at Hama's Haven went as well as could be expected. Zuko spent his four hour shift painting the stair wells of the building. There were only three floors, but they'd only painted about two and a half landings. The men that Zuko worked with were happy with the progress, though. They were friendly enough, despite his clear inexperience. They gave Zuko the nickname Splotch because of how messy his painting skills were.

"Good thing we have drop cloth down," said the man named Due. He gave Zuko a good natured slap on the back and offered him a can of beer.

"Um...no thanks," Zuko declined politely. "I'm underaged. And it's kind of the reason I'm here in the first place." Due and the other men laughed heartily at him, and Zuko was given another round of back slaps to seal their newfound camaraderie. They would finish the paint job, they told him, the following day. Then the next week, when he returned, they would take on the second set of stairs in the middle of the building.

"See ya, Splotch!" they called after Zuko as he went to go find Azula and the others.

It was a bit later than he realized. Without a doubt, Azula and her friends would be at the front desk or the car already, and furious with him for making them stay in that building. Zuko hurried down the stairs and through the hall towards the front desk. It was only his quick reflexes that kept him from crashing into Katara and her brother as he rounded the last corner.

"Sorry," Zuko mumbled.

"Hey! I know you," Sokka said. "You're that jerk from my physics class! The one who ruined spring break by reminding Mr. Piando that he didn't give the assignment. You volunteer here now?"

"He's with the group the judge sent over," Katara told her brother.

"What?" Sokka laughed. "Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes? What did you do to get sentenced to community service? Let me guess, public mopery? Brooding with intent to skulk? Did you scowl at the wrong cop?"

"They're in for arson," Katara supplied, eyeing Zuko with disapproval.

"That's none of your business," Zuko growled at her.

"Get out!" Sokka gaped at him. "Arson? Seriously?"

"You are literally the only one who doesn't know that." Katara rolled her eyes at her brother. Sokk, still unfazed, just shook his head and let out a low whistle.

"Dude...when you rebel, you go hard, huh?"

"It wasn't like that!" Zuko insisted. "Look, I've got to go." He took off down the hall towards the front desk.

"Alright," Sokka called after him. "But you stay out of trouble. No more arson around!" Zuko could hear him laughing at his own joke.

Idiot, Zuko thought rolling his eyes to himself. He stopped at the front desk to make sure Hakoda got his hours logged.

"You sister and friends are waiting for you outside," he told Zuko. There was a tightness in Hakoda's face that made it clear that it would be a good idea for them not to linger. Zuko thanked Hakoda quietly and hurried out.

As he anticipated, Azula was in an even fouler mood than she was when they got there. She was standing outside of the car with Mai and Ty Lee ranting about her day. Mai, who had been assigned to work with her also looked unhappy, but she at least seethed silently.

"I should sue this place!" Azula was saying as Zuko approached. "I'm covered in whatever was rotting in those bins. My shirt is ruined, and that useless, smug knuckle dragger just laughed at me! My dad with tear this place to the ground. When he is done, there won't be anyplace for the rats infesting this place to hide!" Zuko was taken aback by is sister's vitriol.

"Let's get home," Zuko said, glancing around the parking lot. Fortunately, no one was in the immediate area to hear his sister's tirade. She looked at him and scowled.

"What took you so long?" she demanded. "We've been waiting for you to leave this disgusting place for ages!"

"It's only been a few minutes, Azula," Ty Lee interjected timidly. Azula rounded on her with a sneer.

"I'm sure you wouldn't mind staying, would you?" Azula spat at her friend. "Made a lot of good friends in the kitchen? Why don't you ask if there's a spare room. I'm sure they'd be happy to let you stay." Ty Lee shrank back, biting her lips against the tears that were about to fall. Azula just rolled her eyes and huffed in disgust. She turned and got into the car, taking the front seat this time.

"Zuko's going to be cramped in the backseat," Mai said.

"He can deal with it for twenty minutes," Azula snapped. "Shut up and get us out of here." Zuko slid into the backseat without a word. Azula moved the seat up a few inches so that Zuko at least had room to get in, but that was it. Azula continued ranting the entire drive, coming up with some particularly creative and vicious names for Hakoda, the staff and the residents of Hama's Haven. Her brother and friends just let her go. Mai interjected occasionally with some snide remarks of her own, but she didn't have the energy for all out rage like her friend. Zuko did his best to tune them both out, and he politely ignored Ty Lee's subtly wiping away stray tears next to him. Not for the first time, Zuko wondered why the sensitive, bubbly girl was friends with Azula and Mai of all people, but he'd stopped searching for an answer to that years ago.

True to her word, Azula went into her father's home office and demanded that he get her out of her community service sentence. Zuko could hear her while he fixed himself a snack in the kitchen. Interestingly, he noted, she didn't mention a thing about getting him or her friends out of the mandated service. Not that it bothered Zuko. He'd already decided he didn't mind the work.

Ozai did end up calling the judge to demand that something be done for his daughter. Zuko heard it the next day. He'd forgotten to shut the door to his office completely, so Zuko was able to hear Ozai alternately threatening and cajoling Judge Jeong-Jeong to release Azula from her punishment. He offered bribes. He swore to get Jeong-Jeong removed from his bench and disbarred from practicing law anywhere. He offered to donate a ridiculous sum of money to the shelter, if Hakoda was removed from his position. Jeong-Jeong said little through the near hour-long call until the very end.

"Mr. Kaji," he began ponderously. "Firstly, I feel the need to remind you that bribing a judge is a federal offence, and this call is being recorded. Secondly, my ruling stands. It is only the generous intercession of your brother that kept your children and their friends from spending the next 8 to 13 months in a juvenile detention center. I feel I have been more than fair with my judgement, but if Azula would rather serve out her sentence in juvenile detention, I would be happy to arrange that."

Ozai swore and started to speak, but Jeong-Jeong cut him off.

"As for having Hakoda terminated," he continued. "He has been serving at that shelter since it opened, and he has never had a single complaint about how he runs it in all that time. I have no say in what happens there, but I sincerely doubt the board that oversees the operation of Hama's Haven would be willing to let him go on the say so of one disgruntled, mandated volunteer and her overly indulgent father. This is Azula's only option if she doesn't want to go to the juvenile detention center. If she refuses to honor her service hours, or if Hakoda dismisses her, that's exactly where she will end up. Am I clear, Mr. Kaji?"

"I'll find a way around this," Ozai promised.

"You are certainly welcome to try," Jeong-Jeong sounded amused. "I'm sure the additional scrutiny from the government won't affect you...much."

Ozai swore at the judge again, but again Jeong-Jeong cut him off.

"If there is nothing else, Mr. Kaji," he said. "I have better things to do than babysit your tantrum." The call ended abruptly, leaving Ozai to rage in his office to no one. Zuko took his book and crept towards the back stairs. It was better if he wasn't in his father's line of sight while he was in this mood.

He made it to his bedroom just as Ozai came out of his office and stormed up the main staircase. He shut his light out and stayed silent. Ozai, though, went straight to Azula's room. Zuko heard her door fly open and hit the door with a thud.

"What's your problem?" Azula snapped.

"You're going back to that pit and serving your hours," Ozai told her. "I don't want to hear another word out of you about it."

"But, Dad!" Azula protested.

"Not another word!" Ozai barked. Azula went silent. A moment later, Zuko heard the door slam shut and his father stomped down the stairs. Then he left the house, slamming the front door even harder than Azula's door. Zuko waited until he heard his father's car peeling out of the driveway to make his way carefully to Azula's room. He knocked at her door lightly, then poked his head in. Azula stood in the middle of the floor, absolutely seething with rage. Her dark glower got darker when she saw her brother.

"What do you want?" she hissed.

"Just checking to see if you're okay," Zuko said. He was. It was rare to see Ozai's anger aimed at Azula.

"Peachy," Azula snorted. "I just found out that Dad's connections are useless. Now I'm stuck either cleaning up after people i wouldn't let touch my rags or spending a year in jail."

"It's not that bad," Zuko said, shrugging. "Some of the people are pretty cool, once you get to know them." Azula shot her brother a disgusted look.

"I should've known you'd be fine there," she said. "What are you doing in my room, anyway? Get out!" She stormed across the room and slammed the door in Zuko's face. He just barely managed to keep his hand from being crushed. With one last scowl at Azula's door, Zuko decided he'd had enough of the house for a while. He took his car and drove off in the opposite direction of his father.

The next week of school was annoying. As Katara had implied, word of their sentencing had spread throughout the school. People stared and whispered as Zuko passed through the halls. Well, more than usual. It was annoying, but people were too intimidated by Zuko to say anything to his face, so he could ignore most of it. At lunch, Zuko headed towards his usual spot in the far corner of the cafeteria, but he was stopped half way by Sokka appearing at his side.

"Yo!" he greeted Zuko. "Come sit with us today. I'll introduce you to the rest of the Haven Crew."

"What?" Zuko's nose wrinkled in confusion. Sokka had already started walking, though. Zuko followed awkwardly to a table where Katara sat with three other people. Zuko recognized Suki, who was in the same martial arts club as him, but the other two- a boy with a tight fitting beanie and a girl Zuko was startled to realize was blind- he had no idea who they were. They looked like freshmen.

"Katara you know," Sokka said, pointing to his sister. "This is Toph and Aang. The babies of the group. And this beautiful, terrifying girl is Suki, my girlfriend of two years."

"We've met," Suki told Sokka. She smiled politely at Zuko. "Nice to see you again, Zuko."

"So," Toph drawled, leaning towards Zuko. "You're the guy who blew up a building."

"What?" Zuko sputtered. "I didn't blow anything up!"

"Whatever you say, Sparky," Toph grinned at him. "Hey! I'm not mad at you. There's a few building's I'd like to blow up. Starting with this one."

"Toph, don't say stuff like that!" Aang glanced around nervously, looking for a monitor or a lurking teacher.

"Nah, it was just arson," Sokka told his friends, grinning. "I didn't know he had it in him, though. Sit, down, Zuko. You can't eat standing up." Zuko eyed the open seat between Sokka and Aang hesitantly.

"Would you just sit down already?" Katara snapped irritably. "The seat isn't dirty." Zuko scowled at her, but sat down.

"Zuko and his accomplices are going to be working off their debt to society at the Haven," Sokka explained. "We'll be seeing a lot of him. Dad says they've got nine months of work to finish."

"Um...you all volunteer at the shelter?" Zuko asked.

"Yeah, we're all there at least a few times a month," Suki told him. "I do tutoring once a week."

"I help out in the garden." Aang grinned cheefully.

"Pottery and crap," Toph said.

"Crafts," Katara said. "You do pottery and crafts." Toph snorted at that.

"We made comb sheaths last month," she said. "I think crap is spot on."

"Toph," Katara let out a long suffering sigh and shook her head.

"So, Sparky," Toph turned back to Zuko with a smirk. "Why don't you tell us how you landed on the chain gang?"

"Toph!" Suki chided. "You can't just lead with that."

"Why not?" Toph demanded. "It's the most interesting thing to happen in this school all year!"

"Maybe he doesn't want to talk about it," Aang suggested, looking at Zuko nervously. Katara rolled her eyes, which bugged Zuko most of all for some reason.

"There isn't that much to tell," he said. "We got drunk at warehouse and my sister dropped a candle, or something into a box of tea leaves. The fire department put the fire out before there was a ton of damage." The finer details, Zuko decided, didn't matter.

"And that's why you always use a flashlight when you're drinking," Sokka said sagely.

"Or you could just not drink underage," Katara scoffed.

"Too easy." Sokka waved his sister off. And with that the topic moved onto something else. It was jarring. Zuko wasn't sure what he was expecting. An interrogation. Derision. Some sort of prank to humiliate him for daring to think they actually wanted him to sit with them. But the conversation turned to what they all had done over the weekend. Zuko had little to add there, and no one pressed. It was a pleasant lunch, all things considered. Sokka invited him to sit with them again the next day and the one after that. By the end of the week, Zuko joined them on his own, if a bit hesitantly. They welcomed him. Or rather, they didn't tell him to get lost. Zuko decided to count it as an open invitation.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

#atla #zutara #ask box prompt #volunteer work au #part 2 #THE YEAR OF CONTENT!!!!

105 notes · View notes

vinetae · 1 year

Note

Y/n as a young babysitter of jimin's son where jimin is recently divorced. Y/n is a tease yet acts oblivious and jimin is obsessed with tiddies just like the child but for different reasons. Just porn with a little bit of plot.

Okay soooo this went in a WHOLE different direction buuuuut still has some really breast obsessed and smutty scenes!!!! My darn brain went- BUt wait. what if!-

IT HAD-

A PLOT???!!

I hope you enjoy it <;33

P.S: The app thing isn't accurate but hey we ain't here for the plot, ight?

Those two sentences (Red and yellow) at the top are the two sides of my brain talking to each other.

______________________________________________________________

Pairings: Single Dad!Jimin x Babysitter!Reader

Genre: Single dad!AU, Babysitter!AU, Angst, Smut, !!Age gap!!

Word Count: ??

Summary: Uhhh you already knowwww

______________________________________________________________

"Are you sure this is the right place, Yoon-mi? You glance up towards the apartment numbers nailed to the door.

'225'

You had been needing some extra cash every since you'd been laid off by your boss because you refused to sleep with him. Mr. Choi had always been a sleezy perv, it just took one last final time for you to walk away from it all. Only then, had you realized that number one; You had no more income for money.

Number 2; Rent was due.

Your friend Youn-mi had told you about this amazing babysitting service for you adults trying to earn some big cash. At first you'd been a little heistant. You'd always been around kids your whole life, so although you were amazing with them and they loved you, you had hoped to get away from them in your adult years.

Only that had not been the case.

It only took a few clicks of a button to set up your profile. Then, you'd been getting gigs left and right. Mom of 4 wanting a babysitter so she could go on vacation? Pass. Four is too much. Grandpa and grandma wanting a night out? Sure. Shit, someone already signed it. You'd scrolled for hours trying to find the right job to set up and sign. Just as you were about to uninstall the app seeming as it was a waste of time, a notification popped up on the screen. You slide down to check out the details.

Name: Park Jimin.

Child(ren): Park Ji-woo.

Date for day: December 13th.

You shrug, clicking on the messaging icon before another notification popped up.

Message from: PJMin

Details

You click on the message.

From: PJMin

Hello, I've reccently seen your profile and I'm very impressed! Would you mind if I asked you a few more questions, though?

You smile just a bit at the situation.

How ironic.

To: PJMin

Hi, thank you for your consideration! Ask away.

A few minutes later, your phone goes off.

From: PJMin

No problem. Actually, you logged on just in time. I've been needing a sitter for this weekend, and I loved your profile. So it says that you're 22, right?

You don't see how your age is that big of a deal, but you decide to just go along with it. Deciding to change the coversation a bit so it doesn't sound like a dating app instead.

To: PJMin

Yes. My mother ran a daycare just a few blocks from my house, so it's probably safe to say that I grew up there. She shut down when I turned 17 and now I'm here.

From: PJMin

Trying to live out your glory days, right? Haha

You chuckle at his response. Eh, not really.. But rent was more important than being right for now..

To: PJMin

Haha, I guess you could say that. So how old are your kids?

From: PJMin

Kid. I have a 5 year old son. Something came up at work this weekend and I'm in desperate need of a sitter. When I saw your profile, I knew you'd be a perfect match. So, the big question;

You pause, tilting your head as you await his response. A few seconds go by until he continues.

From: PJMin

How well do you like Thomas The Train?

One thing led to another and now you're standing outside his apartment door. Yoon-mi being on the other side of the phone.

"Of course it's the right one, girl! And I know you'll do great with this. You were practically made for kids!" You roll your eyes at her exatreation. The one thing you didn't want to associate yourself with anymore is now the center of your income.

"Alright, I'll talk to you later." She waves goodbye before your press the red button, closing the app as you ring the doorbell.

A few minutes go by until you can hear something on the other side. Soon, the door opens to reveal a tall figure. The white collar of his button-down shirt sticks straight up as a loose blue tie fits snug around the base of his neck. He's trying to invite you in while in the midst of looping his tie in place.

"Ah! You must be Y/n. Sorry about the wait." You flash your best employee of the month smile while making your way inside of the doorframe. Your eyes scan the lavish room. Cream colored walls stand tall adorning the white marble-tiled flooring. The contrasting dark sofa and lounge chair tucked in the corner had looked like it cost more than your whole apartment. The woven light fixtures dangle from the sunken LED-striped ceiling. The tone set to a tan-ish hue. Your eyes reach back to the man as a young child wraps his whole body around the man's leg.

"Ah, Ji-woo. I told you not to do that in front of people-" The man reaches down slinging the child up into his arms as the young boy's set into a fit of giggles. The smile mirroring his father's. How adorable. They looked like the perfect pair.

"I'm sorry- He's not usually this clingy." He holds out his free hand to offer a shake. You nod, reaching to meet his. You study the child's and his features as he shifts the boy in his arms. "You're Mr. Park, I assume?" You ask, hoping that this is the right apartment still. He flashes you a kind smile.

"Yes, but you can just call me Jimin." You nod, watching as his chocolate eyes light up at the sight of his smiling child. He swings the child around before dipping him down, mimicking a dropping gesture, sending them both into a fit of giggles. His eyes land back to yours.

"Thank You for doing this on such a short notice. I know some sitters on that app have to have at least a week in advance." You smile. "No problem. I really had nothing to do anyways. My boss kinda laid me off this week.."

Shit, why are you sharing such personal information already?!?! Stupid! You barely know him!! He probably thinks you're some stupid sappy story now- will he fire me?

His expression switches to a concered look. "I'm sorry.. But hey, if you do well I might hire you for full-time." He smiles before handing Ji-woo to you. He immidiently clings to you, before burying his face into the crease of your breasts. Mr. Park's quick to react, scolding his child.

"Hey! Ji-woo- What'd I tell you about doing that to girls??" He reaches forward to stop his child's naughty antics. You chuckle at his cute expression.

Ji-woo's..

Not Mr. Park's.

Ji-woo sits up clinging onto you ever more as to not be picked up by his father again. "No!" He wraps his chubby arms tightly around your neck before sticking his tongue out at his father.

"Ugh, I'm so sorry.." Jimin reaches behind him, scratching the nape of his neck awkwardly. He's always been obsessed with.. uh.." You look down the back up to see Jimin's face tint with a light pink hue.

"Breasts?" You finish his sentence. He chuckles, a nervous tone clear in his chest. "Like father like son I guess.." You hear him mumble the last part, which makes it your turn to turn cherry red. After a few minutes of Jimin explaining all of Ji-woo's favorite things and allergies, it had been time for him to leave.

You both are standing by the door. You with Ji-woo wrapped around your small figure as Jimin's sliding his jacket over his shoulders. He grabs the keys before giving Ji-woo a peck on his cheek.

"You're welcome to anything in the fridge. His bedtime's 8:00 o'clock so I'd prefer if he didn't watch any cartoons at least an hour and a half before bed." You nod as gives Ji-woo one last look before he sighs.

"It's my first time leaving him alone like this.." You flash him an assuring smile.

"Don't worry sir, he's in great hands, I promise." A smirk tugs his lips at that sentence. His eyes no longer having any hint of sadness or worry. Instead, it's swirling with something else..

"Sir?" His steps close distance between the two of you. Ji-woo had gotten down long ago to go and play with his toys in the corner. Your hand had been on the door's edge as his tone is hushed and whispered.

"We'll have to work on that."

____________

It was now time for Ji-woo's dinner. You'd decided to go with some easy gimbap rolls cut into little bite-sized pieces as to not be a choking hazard. The television had been streaming in the background, as you placed the last requirement of items down onto the dinning room table.

"Ji-woo, time for dinner!" You call out, scooting your chair until you're snug tucked into the table. A few minutes go by as Ji-woo walks into the dinning room. You flash him a teasing smile.

"Did you wash your hands, mister?" He smiles before nodding his head sharply.

"Yes!" You reach out to feel his cold hands bringing them up to take a whiff. Once you smelled the scent of vanilla and lavander, you help him into his booster seat. The apartment is quiet, as you both are enjoying a nice dinner together.

Only now could you see the resembelance between his father and him. The high bridge nose, the dark chocolate eyes, only Jimin's hair had been lightened a bit to match his irises.

_____

Once it had been bedtime, Ji-woo helped you pick up his toys in the living room and his room before you'd decided that he had earned a bit of screen time before it was time to sleep. He walks into the living room, dragging a thomas the choo-choo train blanket behind him. He hops onto the couch before scooting over to lay his head in your lap.

"I like you, Y/n." You smile, caressing the crown of his jet-black hair. Brushing the cutely cut bangs out of his eyes, his eyelids start to flutter from sleepiness.

"You do? Well I have a secret to tell you~" You lean down to whisper in his ear, as he shoots up with widened eyes.

"What secret??" He bounces on your lap with anticipation. You giggle, trying to settle him down.

"Shhh, it's a REALLY big secret. Do you think you can keep it?" He nods profusely before clasping his hands together, beginning to beg.

"Pleeeeaaaseee! I keep it! Tell me tell me tell me!!"

"Okay okay-" You lower your tone and head, whispering into his ear.

"I like you too." He smiles before tackling you, wrapping his whole upper body around your neck. The force would've made you stumble backwards if you hadn't been leaned against the couch. Once the energy is quiet again, Ji-woo replies while rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"You're nicer than mommy.." Your eyebrows knit together in pain at his words. What had his mother done for him to say this?

He nuzzles his face into the crease of your chest before pulling his thumb into his mouth to suck on it.

___

Once you'd settled Ji-woo into his racecar bed, you'd quietly made your way out of the room and began cleaning. First the kitchen, then the living room. Well, there hadn't been really anything to clean. This guy kept his place almost spotless..

You're almost finished with the last few dishes you'd been hand washing, until the beep of the front-door unlocking sounds through the complex. Jimin grudgingly walks into, sighing as he kicks his shoes to the side before removing his jacket, along with loosening his tie. He begins unbuttoning the clasps of his white collar shirt before noticing your presence.

"Oh shi- sorry.." He walks back over, fixing himself so that he's decent once more. You stay silent, resuming washing the dishes. He takes in a deep breath, settling down onto the chair that faces you. The tick of the clock echoes through the room, as you finish up the dishes. You turn back around before placing a small steaming cauldron in front of him. He looks up to meet your eyes, as you flash him a warm smile.

"And you cook too?" You chuckle, before joining him on the parallel barstool next to his.

"Just a little. I thought you'd might wanna eat something after work.." He smiles, blowing on the hoot spoonful before taking a bite.

His eyes light up at the delicious flavor.

"This tastes amazing. Thank You" He takes another bite, quietly letting a few moans slip out on the way.

"It's been so long since I've had real cooking.." He sighs, tilting the cauldron to the side to sip every last drop.

"Usually-" He places the bowl back down as he leans over the counter, setting it down into the sink.

"Usually I just order take-out either here or at the office." You smile, tilting your head to the side, admiring his exausted look. Barely noticeable eyebags slip droop under his eyes, as his cheeks turn rosy red from the spice of the soup. His straight, thick eyebrows curve into a mysterious shape. His eyes-

Staring straight into yours.

You stutter, looking anywhere but him now.

"I-.. Sorry." Out of the corner of your eye, you can see a small smirk tugs his lips.

"Sorry for what?" He leans his face closer to yours, trying to get you to look at him again.

"Look at me, Y/n." Your eyes shift around the room. To the fridge that had been decorated with many arts and crafts from Ji-woo's early years. Over to the couch, onto the blank TV-

"Look. At me, Y/n." His finger lifts, tilting your chin until your eyes set dead on his. Your heart felt like it was going a million miles an hour. You knew he'd been very handsome from the beginning but this sight right now- His shirt halfway unbuttoned, giving you a sneak peak down the lines of his chest..

His tie falling loosely around the base of his neck.. His chocolate darkened irises burning into the center of yours.. His hair slicked back from sweat from a hard work day...

But you also noticed something else.

On his left hand, a shiny silver band wrapped perfectly around his third finger.

He knew where your mind had gone to. He wanted to make sure you knew what had happened.

He sighs, leaning back to sit up. "I'm divorced." He reaches over the counter, grabbing a random beer from it's hiding corner. He cracks open the top, taking a sip from the tip.

"I'm sorry.." You can only respond with. He reaches over before sliding you a can yourself. You take the canister, not wanting to seem rude, but just toy with the cold can instead. He continues.

"Don't be. She was a horrible person from the start." He takes another sip before slamming the beer can down, sighing. He turns to look at you, shifting in his seat.

"She was never a good mother to Ji-woo anyways." He chuckles, a sad tone crossing his voice.

"You know she left Ji-woo here all by himself, just to go catch the new deals at Balenciaga? He was only six months old.." Your mouth drops open at his confession. He scoffs at your expression.

"Exactly. She was and still is a bitch. And that's not even the half of it.." Your eyebrows knit together in concern, as your hand unconsciously comes to rub at his left shoulder.

"I'm really sorry.." He sighs, leaning into your touch. Your fingers trail along the broadness of his shoulder before stopping at his bicep. The thick muscle protrudes through the thin material of his white button up that has the corner of your lips drooling.

His eyes, bare into yours as you watch a few tears slip from his ducts. The corner of his lip quivers at all that he'd been supressing for weeks on end. Ever since the divorce, he's never really had time to actually process the whole thing in the first place. He'd barely been able to cry himself to sleep at night becuase Ji-woo had wanted to sleep in his bed ever since the huge fight between him and Ji-soo.

Your eyes wander over his towering frame. As your hand runs gently across his heated skin, each muscle in his body tense at your touch. With each passing second, his lips inch closer to the pad of yours.

His veiny hand comes to grace your cheek softly. His fiery touch torches each square inch of your skin. The burn taunts you. The plush of his bottom lip drags across your right cheek lightly, feeling the way his straight cut teeth bare a slight poke to your heated flesh. His free hand comes to rest on the round of your knee. The hot stream of breath brushes past your cheek, rolling onto the shell of your ear.

"I.." You whine as the digits of his fingers dance up the plains of your thighs, resting on your cupped heat. Your breath hitches in pitch.

"B-Bad.." You whine, as he groans at the sound.

"Mmm, bad indeed." He smirks as butterfly-like kisses are pressed to the side of your cheek, trailing down your sharp jawline.

"N-No.. Mr. Park this-" He teases the hem of your jeans, toying with the button that held the fabric together. His chest rumbles as a deep groan emits.

"Mmm, makes it sound like I'm your boss." He chuckles as his lips press deep kisses down the line of your throat.

"Ji-Ji-woo.." He grumbles at the name, hugging your body closer to his, as if you're sitting on his lap.

"Mmm, no baby. Jimin~"

You finally gather the strength to push him away, as your eyes flash towards Ji-woo standing in the doorway, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Appa.." Jimin's neck whips to the side as he imidiently pulls away from you, walking over to pick up Ji-woo in his arms. His eyes switch from yours to his son's.

"Come on, buddy. Let's get you back to bed." You watch as Jimin walks back into his son's room to tuck him in for goodnight.

A few minutes later, Jimin returns. He takes a glance around the room, noticing your lack of presence. A frown creeps his face.

"And you did WHAT with him??" Youn-mi questions while slamming down her shot glass. You take in a breath, watching the bubbles in your coke slowly dissapear. "We didn't even do anything. It's just- well there was this thing.. and then he.." She drunkingly smiles, slurring her words around while taking back another swig.

"Then you fucked, right?? oh PLEASE tell me you fucked!!" Your cheeks go red at her choice of words. You had reccived quite a few stares from bypassers from the level of her voice.

"No, we didn't." You swirl the end of your straw around your once chilled glass of soda. The bubbles dying down with their fizzling.

"We just- ugh, it's complicated!" She just laughs, leaning into your shoulder drunkenly.

"Girrrrl. Gimmie that phone!" She reaches into your bag, while you're laughing, trying to deflect her attacks.

"Ahah!" She smirks, easily typing in your passcode before swiping over the app she'd been more familiar with than you. She found his profile in seconds.

"HOLY FUCKING SHIT, GIRL!! I would PAY to suck his dick!" You instantly snatch your phone, snapping at her with reddened cheeks.

"Yah! Remind me to change my passcode. I don't need you sniffing through my phone so easily anyways." Her mouth falls open as she oogles at her imagination.

"Y/nnn if you don't take that gig, I will!" You sigh, sliding your phone back into your purse before taking another sip of your now room-temp drink.

"I don't knowww. I feel like it's going to be weird if I go again.. He probably won't even ask-"

"There!" She chimes, before flashing you something she'd sent. You squint, reading the text out loud.

To: PJMin

Heyyy so I'm like UBER sorry about earlier and shit but if you're still DTF LMK 😉😉😉

"Youn-mi!!!" You yell at her, as she quickly dodges your attacks. "I'm gonna KILL YOU!!" She laughs trying to fight you off.

"Y/n if you hadn't fucked with him I would kill YOU!" You roll your eyes, trying to take the device from her hands. A you're still fighting tooth and nail trying grab your phone back from her grip so you can delete that god-forsaken text, your phone pings mid-fight. Your eyes both widen in sync as she shields you from looking at the screen, reading it out loud.

"Y/n? This doesn't seem like you. Are you DRUNK??? AHHAHA OMG HE'S WORRIED ABOUT YOU!!" Your eyes roll the back of your head.

You wished the world would swallow you whole.

"Youn-mi stop it! I'll loose my job because of you!!" Another ping.

This time, she turns the phone to you. You can't help but look down, as your eyes blow wide at the content. You read back of what Youn-mi had sent prior.

From: PJMin

Y/n, I'm serious. Do you have anybody that can take you home?

To: PJMin

You're more than welcome to 😉

From: PJMin

I'm putting Ji-woo to bed. Where are you?

Youn-mi giggles like a 13 year old girl talking about her middle school crush. She balls her hands up while swaying back and forth, singing an off-tune song. "Y/n's gettin rich dick, Y/n is get-ting rich dickk" You hit her shoulder as she laughs. "Ow!"

You never should've gone out with Youn-mi tonight. You practically had to call Jimin to explain that it was just your friend teasing you, and that he didn't need to waste time or gas for her stupid antics.

You were more than just embrassed to show your face today. Once he knew that you weren't drunk off your ass, he texted asking if you were free the next day. His mom had planned to watch Ji-woo while he went out to sign somethings, but she had forgotten about her last minute dentist appointment. And on such short notice, you were the only one he could think of that would feel safe with watching his son.

Trust me, he was just as nervous.

Flashes from a few nights ago keep filling his mind. He never should've crossed that line for numberous of reasons. Yet,

He somehow still can't get you out of his mind.

"And this one is what color, Ji Ji?" Jimin coos as he sits with his son cross in his lap, holding out some blocks in front of them both. He bounces Ji-woo on his leg gently, as he flashes his father a 1,000-watt smile.

"Blue!" Jimin grins, rubbing the crown of his head, kissing his chubby cheek.

"My smart little man." As Jimin picks up the next colored block, the doorbell rings.

"Ooo, looks like someone's here~" He lifts Ji-woo up, carrying them both to the front door. His eyes land on your own. However his gaze is set on an entirely different category of you.

I.e the black tights that hugged your legs like he wished would suffocate him. A huge puffed scarf coiled around your neck like how he would wrap his own hands around your neck, taking your breath away. literally.

The white button-up blouse you'd decided to pair with your color pencil skirt left his mind racing to the most lewd and unspeakable things. Yet, he keeps his calm demeanor. That's the thing about working in corperate.

Number one rule: Never let them know how you're really feeling.

"Y/n!" Ji-woo yells as he tries to reach out to latch onto you. Jimin watches as your bright and beautiful smile matches his son's, as you too reach out to hold him in your arms. Jimin internally melts at the simple gesture.

"Ji-woo! How's it been hanging, man??" You twirl Ji-woo around the little platform made for outdoor shoes, as Jimin just stands back watching the cute interaction.

"I missed you, bud! We're gonna have soooo much fun, isn't that right?" Ji-woo giggles at your tone as he rests his head on your chest. Once the fun's calmed down, Jimin watches as you finally take notice of him.

"Uhm.. Hi."

He flashes you a professional smile, which is actually breaking his heart to only do. If it was up to him, he'd have you against the navy blue and charcoal walls of his apartment already.

"You're a bit early." He comments, watching as you slide your shoes off to the side before closing the door behind you.

"Yeah. Sorry about that. Darn traffic was terrific." You giggle, before walking over to set Ji-woo down in his booster chair. Jimin joins the two of you, watching as you begin making his breakfast without missing a beat. "If I didn't know any better I'd say you're trying to make Ji-woo like you more than me" He watches as your nose scrunches with your laugh.

"Whaat? Noo." It had all been fun and games until Jimin caught a glimpse of your cleavage when you had bent over, looking for a bowl to start breakfast with. The back of his throat goes dry at the sight. Ji-woo's smile burns a thousand suns while looking at his dad until he noticed something.

"Appa, phone." the young boy points to his father's.. lower area, as Jimin quickly clears his throat.

"Ah okaaay. Ji-woo, why don't you go clean up the blocks in your room?" He frowns, pouting at the mundane chore he obviously didn't want to do right now. "But I wanna stay with Y/n-ma." You chuckle at the name.

"What's with the Ma?" Ji-woo flashes you a grin.

"I like the word ma. It's pretty like Y/nnie." Jimin watches as the simple compliment makes your cheeks go more red than a cherry tomato.

"Go clean buddy. You'll spend all day with her later." Ji-woo huffs before sliding out of his chair, walking to his room. You glance up to Jimin through thick eyelashes, silently giggling to yourself at Ji-woo's previous comment.

"Didn't know people keep their phones in the front pocket, nowadays. What is it, like a trend? The back's not good enough anymore?" You tease, as you crack as egg into the skillet. He chuckles rising from his seat as he reaches from behind you to grab something off the counter. You could feel the prominent outline of what Ji-woo had pointed out earlier, rearing itself barely into your ass.

"Dunno, but.." He leans forward, the breath that falls from his lips brush against the shell of your ear.

"I prefer the back."

You quickly turn around, seeing as you're now trapped between his arms. both of his muscular and veiny limbs trap you in an embrace you're not sure you absolutely wanna leave. His head dips forward, as his gaze silently commands you to keep your eyes on him.

"So.." He starts. His breath dancing along the outer lines of your lips before dissipating into thin air.

"What was up with last night?" He questions, watching as your eyes flick back and forth, not sure what to focus on.

"My friend took my phone."

"No passcode?"

"Passcode. But she knew it."

"Then might wanna change it."

"uhuh.." Your eyes peek down to travel the gentle dips of his abdomine that the tease of his hem-ed shirt had been allowing you. You hear the same cocky laugh as you had a few nights before.

"Like what you see, baby?"

You couldn't help but moan at the simple pet name. Everything had just been too overwhelming for your sense to keep up.

And what happens when a fortress's walls get torn down?

Infiltration begins.

It felt as if you were a hot air balloon. Each of his words only fueling the fire that makes the object rise higher and higher until it feels as if the person is on cloud 9.

His hands curve around your waist to pull you closer. Your bodies flush against one anothers as breth pattern begin to mix to form one beautiful, and dangerous taste.

"Why don't I just take you on this counter right here baby. Bend you over and fill you up until your every breath," His finger slips into the tight elastic of your waistband, finding your immidiently. You gasp at the sudden movement.

"Every word," His lips suck on the skin that sits right behind your ear, licking and tugging at the lobe while his fingers dance between your slick folds.

"Every sound you make belongs to me." His hand comes up to cup over your mouth, as if he knew exactly when you were going to, and just in the nick of time. He coos, thumbing over the plump of your lip, dipping the tip past your lips before forcing his thumb down on the flat of your tongue. You moan, as his smirk widens.

"How 'bout I just stay home today, hmm? My mom can come by and pick him up." Your eyes flutter then flick wide open. You twist your body, as your sudden movements stop his own.

"What'd you just say?" He tilts his head at your question. A smile still presses his lips.

"What?"

"You told me that your mom had a dentist appointment."

Shit.

He laughs it off, leaning back into your arms, trying to re-ingnite the once burning fire. Your hands are quick to pull them from inside your underwear, pushing him back a bit as he stumbles.

"Y/n I-"

Your eyes now burn with something other than the once intoxicating lust.

"You lied to me."

His eyes go wide. "No- No! I didn't I-" You walk forwards, backing him into the corner.

"You said your mother had an appointment."

"She did but-"

"You said she couldn't watch Ji-woo, and that you had nobody else you trusted!"

"Y/n please I-"

He glances down, seeing that he's trapped between you and the counter's edge.

"Just calm down-"

You scoff at the realization. "I'm outta here." You storm off to grab your bag as he follows quickly behind. "Y/n, wait!" You turn to face him, anger firing away.

"I ain't your teenage wet dream of fucking your babysitter, Jimin! I came here to watch kids and get paid. Not fuck their dads like some kind of whore!"

He reaches out, trying to calm your raging tone.

"You're not a whore, Y/n and I've never thought of you as one! This is NOT how I planned this, alright? It just kinda- happened! and it's not like you didn't need the money" You groan at his sad attempts.

"Money?! I'm not some kinda charity case for you to guilt into sleeping with after you hand out a few -might I add- HARD EARNED dollars!"

His hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you away from the door. His eyes burning with the same intense look as yours, just on different sides of the spectrum. He speaks again. This time, his tone is quiet and calm. Much like one he'd used for when being disappointed in his child.

Only in this case, he's disappointed in himself.

"I fucked this up, I really did. I never meant for you to feel like some sort of sex worker when all you've done is care for Ji-woo with the upmost love and affection." You can see tears welling up in the ducts of his eyes. A few already on their way out of slipping.

"And I'm so thankful for that.. I'm the asshole and I only thought with my dick and there's no presentation in the world that can show how sorry I am for that.." You stop resisting so much, finally allowing the steam to settle off from your skin as he continues.

"My ex-wife really fucked me up and I know that's no excuse but- I just.. She had always been attacking me. Whether physically or mentally, with each day she took a piece of me with her and crushed it right before my eyes. So yes, I act like a dickhead because that's how I gaurd myself. So fucked up, right? Protect myself with sex and being a dickwad. But that first night when you cooked dinner for me.. it brought out a side I tried for months to hide. You.."

He leans in closer, as his once tightened grip on your wrist comes to take your hand loveingly in his. "You made me feel something I hadn't felt in such a long time.." He brings his hands up, kissing one knuckle on bot.

h of your hands.

"I just- wanted to show you how much your small gestures mean to me.." You scoff softly at his words, not fully believing it.

"I only cooked for you once. Are you that much of a simp?" He smiles, pressing his forehead to yours as his tone lowers.

"Maybe seeing you actually being nice to my child had something to do with all of it too.." Your eyes rolls back playfully.

"Yeah? How so?" A smirk tugs the corner of his lip, as his cheek brushes against the side of yours. His hushed whisper and hot breaths rolling down the shell of your ear sent chills up your spine.

"Would it be wrong of me to admit that after you leave I have to go relieve myself in the bathroom because of the things you wear..?" Your bodies flush together, slowly backing up into the wall next to his front door entrance. Your steps in sync as his hips press into yours, leaving a small gasp to roll from your lips before his own swallow it whole.

"Relieve? Such a gentleman-y word. Can't just say jerk like every other man?" His smirk beams into your own. The tension in the room slowly transforming into lust.

"We both know," He leans to brush the skin of your ear before lightly pulling the flesh through his teeth.

"I'm not like every other man."

Your lips barely brush his own as the alarm set on his watch starts blaring. His eyes bare into yours, before backing away, silently cursing at the slip of time.

"Shit.." He looks up, seeing as Ji-woo had crossed the lving room to sit at the table, patiently waiting his food. Your expression quickly changes from sultry to sweet.

"Well, have a good day at work," You turn back around, sending him a cheeky grin before winking.

"Mr. Park."

6:00PM. What was the hold up? Jimin promised that he'd be back no later than 4. His mom actually had stopped by earlier and picked Ji-woo up for an afternoon picnic, so now you're just stuck at his apartment, cleaning up the mess you and Ji-woo had made that morning.

On your knees, you reach over to grab, throwing the stuffed animals and dinosaurs into the plastic bucket before starting on another one. You sigh, sitting up on your knees, taking a break from the back-throwing task. Your eyes finally can take a look around his apartment details. The beautiful art pieces sat flat against the tall, extending walls of the living area. The black sectional rimmed with golden tabs adorned the Teak finished flooring. Everything about this place screamed money.

Something your apartment could ever even dream of.

You stand to your feet, making your way around to take a few good looks.

The hallway had a similar design in colors and themes, with navy blue and charcoal gray walls standing around 10 feet tall, outlining the beautiful home. You look to the mahogany side table, noticing a few pictures placed carefully on top.

Him holding what you could only assume was Ji-woo. His 1,000-watt smile beamed so brightly that you could feel the warmth just from a few colors and shapes on a piece of paper.

The next had been trimmed with a thin gold outline; Him hold his 3-year old son upside down while standing on a beautiful, white-sanded beach, The sun setting perfectly behind the horizon, bidding their wonderful trip a goodnight for now.

You could feel the tears starting to well in your eyes.

Your parents could never really afford fancy trips like that. You only really ever got to leave the city when your dad had to make distant deliveries. He owned a small corner shop for small pastries and sweets. When mom had found out about the loans he'd hidden from her all those years, they had been around something like 200,000 dollars in debt. The only reason you know that guestimate? You heard your mother constantly ridicule and fight over it many nights when they thought you had been sleeping. Soon, she had enough and your parents divorced. She's now married to a guy named Dan and lives in Michigan somewhere.

Your tears finally slip when you see the last framed picture.

His wedding day.

She had looked beautiful.

She looked perfect.

How could you compare?

He looked 100 times happier looking at her than he did you..

You're so stupid.

This was all so stupid.

His eyes creased, disapearing completely as he had dipped her low. Her arms wrapped around his neck tightly.

They looked like the perfect couple.

The perfect family.

You look closer, seeing fancy jewerly adorning her neck and hands. In her hair, a golden clip-pin with flower petals and diamonds. Her wrist had a gorgeous golden small chained accessory that looked like it costed more than your entire apartment including the furniture. Her skin was like a doll's. Not an imperfection in sight. The smile they both shared had looked wider than anything you've ever shown.

Your heart breaks at another picture posted up on the gray wall.

He's bent down in the tall, green grass; kissing her rounded belly. Her white dress flows perfectly in the wind, while the flower crown had lost just enough petals to the strong breeze to look like a spring paradise.

Suddenly, you felt digusting. The mirror hanging right infront of you made it even harder to look at yourself. Your pinned up greasy hair had fallen back slightly, making you look 50 years older. Your reddened and scarred face had too many bumps to count at this point. Your forehead look oily and some of your teeth were crooked. You force a smile, only to feel twice as worse. Your eyes switch back and forth between his ex-wife and your reflection.

You felt angry.

Broken.

Digusted.

How were people born with perfect looks?? How do they automatically have perfect, straight white teeth and an updo fit for a majesty herself!

You let the anger take over, lifting the picture frame up before watching it smash into a million pieces on the hardwood floor. Your breath is ragged, as you fall to the floor.

You couldn't stand looking at her smug face anymore. Her perfect teeth and smooth, silky hair. Her beautiful smile that could make any man fall to his knees. She could have anyone under her control just by a simple grin.

And you hated that.

Jimin watches as the clock strikes 7PM.

finally.

He makes quick haste in packing up his things before walking out of the office.

The familiar chime of the front door sounds as he clicks it shut, sliding off the uncomfortableness of his loafers. He sets the briefcase on his side bench, walking in to see his living room spotless. He walks around, trying to find any sign that you had still been here. He stops as a small glass shard pierces the sole of his foot. He groans lifting his foot to remove the shard. "What the.." His seeing your body plopped on the floor with about a million similar shards surrounding your sulking figure. He reach down, lifting the broken picture to see what had gotten you so upset.

His wedding pictures.

"I'm sorry.." He hears you soft cries, immidiently putting the frame down to level himself with you. "Not a big fan of weddings, I assume?" He teases, trying to see your adorable smile which he loved so much.

To his disappointment, you only had just repeated 'sorry' about a million times.

"I'll clean it up.." You reach for the shards before he grabs your wrists, in making sure you don't injure yourself.

"What happened, Y/n?" He asks, tilting his head down to try to catch your attention. His thumb and index reach out to lift your chin, gently making your soaked and red eyes to meet his. "What happened, sweetheart?"

"I broke something.." You act like a child getting scolded by her parents. Your speech being heavily impaired by all of your sudden emotions. You weren't one to cry or breakdown like this. Hell, when you lost your job about a month ago, you barely shed a tear. You just pushed through and buried your feelings.

'I'll deal with it later' was your mantra.

He chuckles, giving you a soft, caring look. "I see that."

"So why'd you break it?" You sniff, trying to calm your staggered breaths. "B-Because.." The inside of his palm comes to caress the heated red flush of your cheek, thumbing over the space under your eyes to dry. "Why can't you just work it out with her..?" He's taken back by the sudden request. He chuckles, thinking it's some kind of slight joke but when he sees the burning tears soaking your cheeks, he knows you mean business.

"Some people aren't supposed to be together, Y/n.." You scoff at his counter.

"Divorce fucks people up, Jimin.."

He sighs, taking a seat in front of you, crossing his legs.

"I know."

You finally glance at him on your own terms.

"You don't fucking know. Have you even considered how Ji-woo feels about it!? He's gonna blame himself! Wonder if he's the reason his parents broke up. And in his teenage years, he's going to be so fucked up from going back and forth from place to place he's going to consider if it's really worth living in this shit hole!!"

You watch his eyes widen at your words.

"Y/n.."

You quickly rise to your feet, sniffing before placing the broken picture back on his side table. You dry the last bit of tears with the sleeve of your fuzzy over-sweater. "I've gotta go." He stands, blocking your way.

"Y/n, she's an unstable narcissistic person who needed serious help. Ji-woo is better off not having any contact with her."

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from having another episode.

"How would you know? I saw your family. Perfect parents who own a huge, successful business with millions of dollars income. While some of us had work our asses off, scrape what we can off the bottom of other's shoes just to be able to fucking EAT." He folds his arms across his chest.

"Is this about my marriage or my job?"

"ALL of IT! ALL OF YOU! You're rich and sucessful. Someone like you spit on people like me!" His eyes pierce yours with a harsh intensity.

"Make up your mind, Y/n. Wanna bitch about my job, my family's wealth, or my fucked up marriage? Really, Y/N. Take. Your. Fucking. Pick." Your breath hitches at his tone. He scoffs at your silence.

"Oh now you wanna shut up? Come on, Y/n. You picked this battle, now you've gotta fight for stance. Don't got anything to say now, huh? You're such a fucking brat, you know?" He watches as your tiny adam's apple bobs up and down. The back of your throat dries from the tension.

"Don't just stand there, Y/n. Wanna complain about how I was born into such a perfect, wealthy family? Oh, or do you wanna bitch on how you just hate how rich I am because I too worked my ass off to get where I am! Just because I didn't grow up with your kind of situation, doesn't mean I didn't have my own shit to deal with."

Your teeth grind against each other at his bitter words. You'd never seen this side of him before. Not even when talking about his so called bitch-of-a-wife.

"You don't know SHIT." You curse, pushing him with all your might, that only barely makes him move. "You gonna keep being a brat or am I gunna have to fuck this attitude out of you?" Your body freezes. He smirks, stalking your figure, now having you backed into some doorway.

"Such a loud mouth for a tiny girl. Who gave you permission to curse like this, sweetie? I know I sure didn't." Your silence only fuels his ego.

"What? Can't handle a little fight back, baby? Think I'll just get on my knees and do as you say? like all those little pussies of men you've fucked before? You might think you're the shit, darling,"

The back of your legs touch a soft material. His breath rolls across your cheek, sliding to touch your outer ear.

"But we all know you just want a real man to fuck you like his little princess."

You moan out, as his arms come to snake around your waist, gripping you tight.

"Was this in your plan all along? Getting me all worked up then seducing me with your cute little subby face?" A deep chuckle echoes through the room. Lust prowls the atmosphere like a rabid animal.

"Thinking that I'll just fall head over heels for your cute face, and you'll get what you want?"

You shake your head, not even realizing that it's what you wanted all along. He chuckles at your compliance.

"See? Told you."

He leans forward, whispering along the shell of your ear.

"All big and strong until someone actually puts you in your place."

His harsh words elicit a pitchy whine from the back of your throat. You reach up, trying to tug at the material of his button up. He smirks, removing your hands from his clothing.

"Nu-uh. You wanna act like a brat? You get punished like one."

He sits on the egde of his bed, manspreading his thighs for your viewing glory. His eyes narrow at yours, silently commanding you.

"Down." You start to lower yourself to the floor before he stops you, tsking.

"On my lap." You swing your leg over his lap before he stops you once more.

"Jesus, baby. Should've known you weren't one to listen." He pulls your body down, bending you over his knee as his hand palms the flesh of your clothed ass. He chuckles, lifting your skirt up to reveal your thin, high waisted pantyhose.

"What's your safe word, love?" You moan at his question.

Damn.

Who knew consent was so hot??? (Hell yes it is children)

"mmm, what was your ex-wife's name again?" You tease.

He growls at the mention, giving your ass a good slap before countering.

"Smart off to me again and I'll make this ass redder than Rudolph's nose. Now,"

He runs the flat of his palms smoothly across your clothed skin before sliding the hem of your pantyhose down.

"What's your safe word, again?" You lift your head slightly to look at him, flashing a cheeky grin.

"Red, sir." He lightly applies a smack to your ass.

"Good girl."

His eyes beat down onto the exposed flesh of your ass. The plump and softness of the skin is slightly reddened from the first spanking. Before you're about to smart off again, he continues.

"How should we do this, hmm? Maybe match your spankings to how many times you rolled your eyes at me?" You squeal at the sudden impact being harshly applied to your cheeks. He immediately soothes the sensitive skin afterwards, rubbing the round of his palm onto the reddened flesh.

"Or how many pieces you broke my wedding frame into?" You moan out, shaking your head, refusing either one of those options. He chuckles, not giving you an ultimatum.

"No? But you were so confident earlier though."

He leans down, tilting your chin to turn to meet his narrowed gaze.

"Now are you going to behave or am I going to have to paint your beautiful ass every shade of red?" You shake your head, not wanting anymore. You had some experience with spanking and shit but-

Holy fuck did his hands hurt..

"I'm gonna need more than a few tears, love." You whine, feeling the slick between your folds duplicate in dampness.

"No, I'll be good- I swear!" You moan out, feeling the sweet relief of his palms rubbing over your reddened cheeks. He smirks, grabbing a fistful of the plump flesh before giving it a little jiggle.

"That's more like it." He stands, pushing you back against the bed. His index comes up to tilt your head, forcing your eyes to meet his. "You just wanna please daddy, don't you?" Your pussy clenches at the given-name. Though you hadn't really likes it in the pornos you'd seen before, you quite liked the taste when it came from his mouth.

"Say it." He commands, as you rise to your hands and knees.

"I want your cum to fill me up so good" He quirks an eyebrow.

"Who's cum?" You moan at his tone. His voice alone could make any women cum in just a matter of seconds but when it was paired with that,

HOLY SHIT.

"Daddy's." He nods, bringing your hands to unbuckle the clasp of his belt. Your hands make quick work of the material, watching as it falls to the floor, circling his ankles.

"And who's your daddy?" You giggle at the word. It felt so wrong on your tongue but on his..

"You, daddy." That makes his heart swell. His hands wrap the leather belt around his wrists. A dark expression swirls behind his usual chocolatey irises.

"Lay back for daddy." You obey, watching as he leans over, wrapping the leather belt around your wrists, pinning you to the headboard. He leans back on the balls of his knees, admiring your beautiful figure.

"Mmm, this won't do." His fingers trail up the inner of your thighs before ripping a huge hole into the black tights. You gasp, watching as he slips your mini-skirt from your hips, throwing it somewhere across the room.

"Can't believe you wore this here.." He scoffs, palms rubbing up the inner parts of your thighs before setting on your clad light pink panties.

"So fucking cute." He groans, running his digits through the thin material, watching as the light pink fabric turns a light gray.

"How fucking dirty of you, baby. Soiling your panties? Why? Because you were thinking of daddy fucking your tight little pussy?" You moan, nodding quickly at his words. A chuckle rolls past his lips.

"I bindded you, not gagged you. Use your big girl words, baby." You whine, feeling the pads of his digits making straight lines connecting from your clit down to your soaking core.

"Yes! I dreamed of daddy's cock every night! Wanting it in me so bad, daddy..!" He raises an eyebrow, not truly believing your words.

"Mmmm, so you didn't even touch yourself? You stayed pure for me? Because if you touched yourself, I'm gonna have to punish you for that, darling." His fingers tilt your chin to meet his eyes.

"Tell me the truth, baby. Did you touch your pretty pussy? Make it all wet like how I'm doing right now? Did you ruin yourself without me?"

You shake your head, legs twitching from the lack of his touch. "No! I stayed pure for daddy." The tip of your toe teases his clad underwear, running the sole of your foot along the outline of his hardened dick. He retorts, moving away from your touch.

"Not into feet babe." He comments, as your face turns a beet red.

"Me neither.." You both laugh at the silly fail. He sighs, palm running over the rounds of your knees, watching the way your breasts bounce slightly when he rocks your body.

"What are you doing?" You look down, seeing his narrowed eyes staring at your erect buds.

"Your body is like fucking Picasso, sweetheart."

You laugh at his comment, watching as his lips come to hover over the exposed bud.

"I hope it's not like fucking Picasso.." He rolls his eyes at your stupid joke.

"Don't ruin this, Y/n." You smile, watching as he takes the bud between his lips, while his other free hand comes up to toy with the bouncy flesh of your over breast. Your head falls back against his silk pillows, back arching from the way his tongues swirls your nipple.

He releases with a pop, licking the pads of his lips before speaking.

"Can't fucking wait for these to be filled up with milk.." Your eyes widen at his words. "W-what?"

His eyes glance up to meet yours. A softer expression paints his face.

"For our babies. God, to see you so big and pregnant for me- carrying my child- fuck." You giggle at his antics, wrapping your exposed thighs around his hips, grinding against his clothed angry cock.

"You already have a kid, baby." You reply, kissing the side of his neck, as he traces patterns into the skin of your under bust.

"mmmm, I'm just horny.." He chuckles, licking a stripe up along the erects of your nipple. You moan at the sensation, as he smirks, chuckling.

"My baby likes it when I suck her pretty tits?" He teases it back and forth between the space of his top and bottom front teeth, watching your every expression with focus. The way your face contorted a certain way with each direction, tug, and lick.

"Jesus, baby. You're so sensitive. Like a virgin." He chuckles, as you stay silent.

He rises, giving you a questioning look. "Baby are you.."

You gently nod, flashing a small smile.

"My major never really let me date any guys so I-"

"You're a virgin?"

You're starting to think telling him was a mistake.

"Yeah but I like thi-"

"How the hell am I so lucky."

His words stop you mid-sentence.

"W-what?"

He crawls up the plains of your curved body, hands trailing up to caress your cheek.

"I'm. So. Fucking. Lucky."

He whispers, while trailing his butterfly kisses all the way down to your navel. He glances up through his thick eyelashes.

"Anything else I should know?" You think for a second, before responding.

"I once tried using a bubble wand as a dildo."

He bursts out at this. Sitting up, his eyes cresant from his fit of giggles.

"Are you being serious?" He questions, wiping a tear from his eyes before laying back down, taking one of your breasts in hand to play with it.

"What's so funny?" You chuckle, not being able to help joining in with him.

"It was just- so random." He leans up, gently pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose, before giving you an eskemo kiss as well.

"That was adorable. You're adorable." He reaches up to untie your hands, making your pout a bit.

"But I liked those.." He smiles, pecking a small kiss to your cheek.

"We'll get into that later. For now, let's just focus on teaching you-" You cut him off.

"Please don't tell me you're about to teach me how to have sex." He chuckles, nodding.

"This is like the best thing a man can do." You smile, pecking his lips, pulling his chubby cheeks in along with the kiss.

You can feel his smile beam against the passionate kiss, as he pulls away. "Your kisses are so soft, baby.." You pout, folding your arms.

"No no! It's a cute thing. So many people just go in and basically bite each other's tongues off - That was an exaggeration, sweetheart. I'm suing you if you try to bite my tongue off." You giggle, nodding while leaning back against his bedframe.

"Your kisses are so soft. Just saying" He takes his chi n in his hand, pulling you to seer your lips together once more. It had quickly escalated when he added tongue. You always thought the idea was a little gross but actually feeling it..

Holy shitballs.

He feels you moan against the kiss, as his hands comes down to toy with the cup of your breast. His other hand trails down to slip into the elastic of your panties.

"Ah-" You moan out, feeling the tip of his finger run along the entrance of your sopping core. He smirks, pressing kisses to the side of your cheek, all the way down to your collarbone.

"Does it feel good?" He asks, lips still attacking your neck. You moan, feeling the tip of his middle finger poke at your entrance.

"U-huh.. Feels weirder when someone else does- Fuck!" You feel the tightness of his whole finger stretching you out. Your velvet walls slicking his extended digit, while his kisses distract your from what pain he fears you might experience.

"Tell me if it hurts, okay?" You nod, hips meeting to grind up into the palm of his hand. He chuckles while adding another finger. You grip onto his shoulders, nails gently cratering soft creasant moons into his shoulder blades.

"Shit baby... You're so fucking tight.." You whine, wanting to feel more.

"Mmmm, good." He smirks, tugging at the loose skin of your ear.

"Mmmm, feels good?"

"u-huh! Oh fuck-" He adds his third finger as your body completely just melts at the sensation. Your hips now moving to straddle his lap while he just sits back chuckling.

"What's so funny?" You ask, grinding down onto his palm.

"You're so eager, that's what's funny. You're acting like a teenage boy, babe." You roll your eyes, reaching down between the space of you, wrapping your hand around the length of his cock. He quickly shuts up, taking a sharp breath as your hand just sits around his cock.

"I was trying to go slow, Y/n." You playfully scoff, leaning down to spit on his hardened cock, as you move your hand up and down his length. You watch as his exposed stomach now tenses up at your motions, admiring the way his hairline had a beautiful little glisten on it from sweat.

"If I wanted slow, I would've told you." He chuckles, moving a strand of hair from your face while thrusting his three lodged digits up until your sopping core. Your hand making quick work on his cock makes this virginity-loss session more like two teens scared to fuck so they just jack each other off.

"Then what do you want?' You questions, groaning at the feeling of your hand around his cock. Your fingertip dances gently around his angry tip, watching as the precum spills from his slit.

"I want you to fuck me." He moan as your hand had done a certain motion, practically making him Jell-O in your hands. s

"But vi-virgi-" You cup your hand over his mouth, shushing him while repeating the same motion that made him react that way in the first place.

"Fine, don't fuck me. But don't call it 'love making' either. I've heard that one too many times from my parents, I don't need to hear it while we have sex." He nods, as he flips the two of you over. His body towering your own, watching the way your eyelashes flutter a bit in the cool apartment AC air.

He looks over toward you as he's reaching inside his black and gold rimmed nightstand, pulling a tiny square packet from it's hiding spot. You laugh slightly, as he settles back in between your thighs.

"Wouldn't Ji-woo find that?" You question as he rolls the tiny latex rubber over and down his cock.

"Of course not." He reaches back over, flashing a black key that had been placed in a specific spot under the nightstand.

"It's locked." He smiles, reaching down to line himself up with your entrance. You take in a sharp breath as the tip pokes your sopping core.

He glances up, pressing soft kisses all around your face before leaning up. "You might bleed a little.. And it'll be painful for sometime, but after that it gets better." You nod, watching as the gray swirls in his eyes let you know that he's just as nervous as you are. Your hand comes to rest upon his cheek, which seemed to calm both of your nerves.

"I'm ready."

He nods, clasping his hand in your while slowly sliding the tip in.

Okay..

Not so bad.

You smile, feeling the pain starting to form.

Okay it's a little un-

"Fuck!" You moan out, imminently clasping your legs together, trying to stop him. Thankfully he stops checking to see if you're okay.

"I-.. Just hurt.." He nods, flashing you a small smile before kissing the tip of your nose.

"You're doing so well, baby. Being so good for daddy." You moan at the words, barely being able to feel the way he'd slowly inched his way in, until you felt the way his tip kissed your cervix.

"How do you feel?" He glances up, checking your expression to see if it's anything discomforting.

"It.. so full.." He chuckles at your lack of a structured sentence.

"That good, huh?" You nod, not even caring what he's teasing you about this time. Your hips grind up into his, feeling the way the ribbed condom slid against your ways.

"Oh.. my- fuuuck" His moans soon join yours as the speed of his thrusts pick up in momentum. His arms had braced themselves on each side of your body. A beautiful missionary pose if you do say so yourself.

"Oh shit baby- So fucking tight for me. fuuuckk" He groans, lifting your legs to wrap tightly around his waist, while your arms had snaked their way his veiny neck. Your head falls back, mouth gaped a O-shape.

"Oh- Ji- oh my god-" His grunts leave a pool of slick running down your thighs, which made this moment all the much hotter. Any pain that you had experienced had been long replaced with an ecstacy you wish you could feel all the time.

Your nails dig into the skin of his back, once innocent and cute creseant moon shapes now turned cherry red, with a few having drawn blood.

"Oh my god!" You hands come to stable by your hips, while leaning into your already fucked up position, thrusts hitting -somehow- even deeper before.

"Oh fu- daddy!" Your screams and skin slapping made fifty-shades of gray look like a disney movie. Along with Jimin's dirty but sweet talk, you had felt like you were on cloud nine.

"Oh fucking- shiiiittt baby. Gonna fill you up so nice. Fuuuck baby, look at your pussy taking me so well."

You moan, trying to switch positions. He pauses. "Something wrong?"

You nod. "I wanna be ontop." His eyes widen. "But- isn't that too kinky for right now?"

You pout. "Jimin so help me if you keep condemning me on how I can and can't fuck, I will leave here right now and you will have the WORSE case of blue balls in your life. " He immdiently flips around to that, laying on his back. You one leg over, straddling him lap. You reach down, guiding his cock around until your find your entrance.

"Oh- fuck that's not!- oh.." He groans, feeling an even tighter sensation from your back.

"Oh shit.." You laugh, taking it out before trying to line it up with your entrance. His wrist catches you.

"Baby if you want the worse UTI possible, I'd say go for it but let's just-" he reaches down, pulling the condom off. As he's reaching into his bedside table, you slam down onto his lap, cock being engulfed by your soaked pussy. He groans out, hands immediately coming to steady your hips.

"Jesus fu- baby you're gonna kill me.."

You smirk, guiding your hips along the trails of his cock, bouncing repeatedly. Going from fast paced to a slow, rhythmic pattern. His hands comes up to cup the rounds of your breasts, nipples being tugged at by his thumbs and index fingers. You glance down, chuckling at his position.

"You've got a breast kink.."

He smirk. "No, I've got a 'I wanna fuck a baby in you, please be the mother of my child' kink." That both sends you into a fit of tiny laughters, but the soon get replaced by moans and whimpers.

Mostly from your side.

"Baby I'm really gonna- no no no no shit- Baby I'm gonna cum!" You moan, hands reaching down to draw tiny circles into his hip bones and v-line as your thighs and pussy clench around his cock.

"Mmmm, can't tease me with a baby and break your promise, daddy." He groans, fighting with everything he's got as to not blow his load into your sweet pussy right now.

"Baby please- We can talk about that lat- fuck it!"

He flips you around in a matter of seconds. Your roots tightly coiled in his palm, while the other has reached forwards to grp one of your nipples.

"You want a baby so fucking badly? We're doing this my way." He leans down, thrusting his hips upwards into your pussy, watching as your sopping core engulfs his dick. He chuckles.

"My sperm, my choice of position." Your roll your eyes as his tugs on the roots of your hair, pulling you back to face him.

"Keep rolling your eyes and next time Imma shove that butt plug up your smart ass." You smirk, wiggling your hips as his thrusts start to become sloppy.

"You love my smart ass, daddy." He grunts, feeling the way his balls push up against your folds, slicking them even more.

"Fuck yeah I do. But," He tweaks your nipple in one hand, as you mewl out. "I love your fucking titties better."

You groan, burying your face into his satin pillows.

"Fuc-Fuck I'm coming!" He reaches forward, taking a hold on your clit likes it's dear life. The harsh circular motions send you into a fit of moans.

Psh, as if you weren't already in that.

"F-fuck- coming!" He moans out as you feel the hot rush of warm liquid shoot through your pussy. After a few moments he pulls out, admiring the Da Vinci like work he's done to both your ass and cunt.

He flips you over, making you lay upside down as your legs rest against the wall.

"What's this for?"

He smirks. "You said you wanted a baby, "

His lips capture yours in a spiderman like kiss.

"I'm gonna give you a baby."

He sits up, smiling like a little kid.

""Also I'm gonna call your pussy pac-man. Or.. pac-woman?" He laughs while cleaning up the sheets.

"Pac-pussy! Has a nice ring to it, don't chya think?"

______________________________________________________________ You know that I was thinking that this fic isn't long enough so I'm like- Lemme check the word count.

THIS MOTHER FUCKER WROTE 11,000 WORDS, 43 PAGES WORTH AND SAID IT'S 'NOT LONG ENOUGH'

omg I need sleep-

#bts x reader #jimin x reader #bts jimin fanfics #bts jimin #jjm #bts fanfic #bts fics #btsff #jimin #bts oneshots

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zemkzone · 2 months

Text

I don't normally vent, but... TLDR: I was mugged in a city, a country, where I am a foreigner and the supposed friends who were helping me told another friend I was acting "entitled" to their help. It was heavily implied I had to APOLOGIZE to them. AITA or not AITA? I now have much bigger trust issues than I had last week.

Long version:

I've been living in the UK for almost 2 years, and I went down to London on Friday for a break from a stressful work-week. The first night went well, dinner and a show, and I fell asleep at a decent enough time to wake up early on Saturday for 9:30AM yoga with, for lack of a better term, friends of a friend. It was a relatively nice morning, so I decided to take one of the buses instead of schlepping my way down to the Tube (which I still call the subway most days coz, can you blame the proverbial Yankee visiting King Charles' Court?). I got off the bus in the City, what they call the business area in London as a whole, I have been made to understand. Google Maps told me it was an easy walk from the bus stop to the hotel where the yoga class was, but there were several alley/side road closures where the app wanted me to go. I was still on a nice, wide sidewalk, with few cars on the street and few people around me too. I paused at what felt like a safe intersection on that wide sidewalk, right by a modern glass building with CCTV hanging off it and CCTVs on the crosswalk traffic lights a few meters away. I was as far from the roadside as possible, and out of precautionary habit, I had my back turned to the road a little to protect the phone I had out in my hand. I was texting those sort-of friends that I was a few minutes out, and trying to get Google Maps to reroute me.

Suddenly, a black glove appeared in front of my face and my phone was snatched away by what looked like a man in an electric blue puffer hoodie, riding a bicycle on the sidewalk. I tried to chase him, but between the coffee I had to let go of and the duffle bag on my shoulder, it was hopeless. He disappeared around the corner I had been considering walking along myself, and I was left to ask for help from the four passersby at the crosswalk. Two of them happened to be a father and daughter (Brits, but also just visitors in London). The father wrote down my exact location and the time so I could report it to the police. When I said I had friends at a nearby hotel, he and his daughter helped me find my way to it. They didn't have to walk me in, but they did. "We'll wait here," he said at the top of an escalator, "and wait for you to give us a thumbs up if the receptionist has located your friends". The receptionist did, I signaled the two perfect strangers that all was well, and we waved goodbye as they headed off to continue their day.

What followed should have been an exercise in practicality. The boyfriend of one of those sort-of friends (let's call him M) and a hotel staffer helped me contact the police and cancel my debit card (which had been in my snatched cellphone's case). Two officers came to the hotel so I could give them my statement, etc. All the while, M sat with me, updating his girlfriend and the others who still continued on with their yoga session. The police asked me to take them to the spot where the crime occurred. M was still with me, and as we walked out of the hotel, his girlfriend (T) and more people than I expected (I'd only though I was meeting T and another friend I'll call W) came out to join us. I hadn't realized that a whole hour had passed since I'd arrived at the hotel. Their yoga session was over.

At that point, I was torn between (1) feeling marginally better because I had company who knew the city and (2) trying to keep it together in the face of everything that losing a smartphone in 2024 implies. After the police took down the added details at the incident site, T and co. asked me if I wanted to still go to brunch. I agreed since I needed to sit, was shaken, and, though I didn't feel it at the time, did need more than half a cup of coffee in my stomach. At the restaurant, I tried to stay in good spirits. Aside from T, M, and W, there were two people in the group I had never met before, and we were joined by yet another person. I managed to shovel down most of an avocado toast and an Irish coffee (I effing needed the boost). T and her friends had moved on from the usual "sorry that happened to you" and were playing catch up while I asked M where I could find my phone carrier and a place I could get a new phone. I'd come to the UK with the phone that had been snatched, and had only gotten a SIM-only plan with the carrier. I thought the practical thing, since I don't know how many more months/years I'd be in the UK, would be to buy a new phone, then have my carrier block the stolen phone's SIM and issue me a new one. M and I Google Mapped my options, added in my own hotel location so I could grab my passport on the way. I admitted that, considering everything, I (1) needed help getting navigating to those places from where we were and that (2) I didn't feel good enough to be alone just yet. We paid (I still thankfully have working credit cards) for our food and finally left the restaurant.

This is where, to my mind, the uncomfortable part started. Two of the extra 3 people (remember, I was only supposed to have been with T, W, and M, but they had a total of 3 other friends there too), and somehow what should have been a quick 20-30 minutes to get my passport from my hotel and then drop me off on the street with the phone and carrier store became 6 nerve-wracking hours with a too-large group. I said nothing when they started doing "for the gram" picture stops along the way. M went up to my hotel room with me when I got my passport. He took a photo of some passwords on my laptop that I might need when the phone or carrier store staff helped me with my phone. (In hindsight, we should have used pen and paper.) Then our group of 5 all went in what I assume was the direction of the two stores. W was navigating, and at that point, the streets were so crowded and I was getting very tense that I just trusted she knew what she was doing. In my mind, I kept replaying the mugging over and over, what I could have done differently, etc, etc. (I know what happened wasn't my fault, but at the time, I couldn't help it) and listing what I'd have to do first when I got the replacement phone and SIM. I didn't know T and co. well enough to tell them I was internally seeing red and trying not to spiral. Then, suddenly, we stopped walking... at a bubble tea place. I'd only vaguely heard what the group had been talking about as we walked along, since it seemed to be more Instagram/YOLO, etc stuff and no one was asking my input anyway. I smiled tightly and declined an offer for them to buy my bubble tea, opting to stand outside the store to work on staying calm. I didn't realize (hadn't been told) they wanted a break or anything, but I couldnt complain since I was literally dependent on them until I could get a new phone. We eventually got to the phone store, the last remaining extra person left, and I had to pay full price for a phone because as a foreigner I couldn't get on the monthly payment plans. T, M, and W, instead of just pointing me to the carrier store three shops down, came in with me and waited while I talked to the staff. At some point, W or T asked if I wanted coffee, and, while I thanked them for still being there, I declined the drink again. I thought they'd go off to a nearby café or something since I had paperwork, etc to fill. They and M never left. By the time I got the new SIM in the phone and the staff had advised me to go back to the store where I'd bought the phone to get help setting it up, M, T, and W were still there. They went back to the phone store with me, and T told me to stop being so anxious and sit down while we waited in the queue for assistance.

By then, it was almost 5 in the afternoon. The tech assistant helped as much as he could, since I was basically setting up my phone from scratch, but said I could do the rest with my tablet back at my hotel... or come back to the store with it before closing time so he could walk me through that part. T gave me a card with some of the friend-group's phone numbers, and she, M, and W still walked me to my hotel (I'm pretty sure it was unpromted, but my head was so foggy at that point from all I had done and still had to do). It turned out the hotel was a 10-min walk in a straight line from the phone shop. We got to the entrance to my hotel, I said thanks to them for being there the whole time, and they left. I handled grabbing my tablet and walking right back (in 5 min) to the phone shop to finish setup alone. The day ended with me exhausted, having a semi-functional phone that I'd have to wait to fully fix still when I got to my apartment (in a place I jokingly nickname the Shire) after the weekend, and crying to friends back in the States in a call over a lousy room-service dinner. I told them what happened, including my misgivings over all the YOLO stops, and they calmed me down and helped me a little more with fixing my phone.

I got at most two hours of sleep by the time the sun rose on Sunday morning... and then made myself presentable enough to meet A, the original London friend who had introduced me to T, W, and M where I first arrived in the country. I told him that while I was grateful for his friends' help the previous day, I didn't think I could go through that again. (I didn't exactly want to say "they're good-time people, but I don't know if I'd want the...awkward stops all over the place again if I were ever in another crisis around them.") What A said... upset me. T, M, and W had apparently complained to him that, while they still thought I was a lovely person (ah, Britishisms!) I acted "entitled" to their company the whole afternoon and was scowling too much. They didn't regret canceling plans for me, but I seemed "ungrateful in my human interactions with them". A all but said I had to APOLOGIZE to his friends.

I'm in my early 30s, with a no-nonsense, get-shit-done North American mentality and I'm aware my default expression, especially when I'm too tired, is RBF (resting bitch face, for those too young to know), and I feel terrible if I need to drag anyone at all into my messes. They're energetic and bubbly Brits in their late 20s. But they really could have left me at any point, just given me directions and left, and I would not at all have held it against them. Just like I was grateful and held nothing against that father with the kid who initially helped me after the mugging. Is this an AITA situation? Did I miss anything? Is this a subtle cultural/age/millennial-GenZ divide?

I'm still tired as FUCK, trying to get used to this new phone, and have a LOT of life admin to do suddenly after this whole weekend. If you have any thoughts or comments, whoever and wherever you are, feel free to say something.

#real life woes #american vs british mess #aita #not aita #i am just so tired

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travlersjoy444 · 1 year

Text

"No."

2012 Leo x reader

Angsty ending to I've Been Tired and 'My Brother's an Idiot' Blues

Happy ending version: "Yes."

Chapter Summary: You reject Leo's offer to be friends again.

Sequel is here: No pt.2

***

You sighed, fidgeting with your hands. Leo…Leo was your best friend. But his mind was elsewhere. And regardless of what he’d done wrong, you didn’t want to hold him back from what he actually wanted.

And on top of that, you were pretty sure you couldn’t handle another rejection. Maybe it was selfish, but you wanted to be…you know, number one. The way Leo was for you. And honestly? It kinda hurt that you weren’t that for him.

Maybe you needed some time away, and maybe you felt guilty for that. But…you were tired of having your feelings hurt, and tired of being rejected in favor of his flights of fancy.

You took a deep breath, coming to a decision.

“Lee…I love ya. Seriously. You’re my best friend.” You said, and for a moment, he perked up. You winced, and continued. “But…Maybe we should take a break for a bit, y’know?”

His hands trembled. He looked shattered, like the light behind his eyes had gone out. And for a moment you wanted to take your words back, to run down the fire escape and give him a hug and whisper that everything was fine…

But he nodded, despite the glossiness of his eyes, and stared at the ground. “I…Okay. I guess…I guess that’s…fair, (Y/N). I’m…I’m so so sorry.”

You felt your grip tighten around the railing of the fire escape, and you slammed your eyes shut so you wouldn’t have to see the heartbroken look in his eyes. “Yeah. Me too.”

“...Yeah.” He said, and his voice cracked.

You heard the sound of the manhole being shoved open, and then closed again, and when you opened your eyes and peeked through your fingers, he was gone.

Okay.

You took in a final breath of fresh air, and ducked back into your room.

Weirdly, you felt better.

Maybe you were a horrible person for that, but it was true. You felt lighter. Freer.

Things were gonna be okay.

You still cried though.

***

Raph was waiting at the bottom of the ladder in the sewers, with Donnie and Mikey at his side.

“So how’d it go Fearless?” Raph grinned.

“Is everything okay again? Are you gonna stop bummin’ me out?!” Mikey said excitedly.

Leo stared at the ground and tugged at his wrist wrappings.

“Oooh.” Donnie cringed, picking up on Leo’s body language. “Do you want us to leave you alone, Leo?”

“Wait, so what happened?” Mikey frowned.

“Shh, give him some space.” Donnie hissed.

Leo sighed and wrapped his arms around himself. “Raph, you’re leading patrol today. I’m…I’m gonna take a break.” He said as authoritatively as he could muster.

“So…it was a no.” Raph realized, and despite being fully aware, Leo still felt himself die inside a bit more at hearing it said out loud. He scowled.

“Yeah, it was that! So you guys can…can stop asking, okay?!” Leo snapped, but at the look of shock in their faces, he deflated. “Look, I’m…I’m sorry, guys- uh guys and Donnie- I just-”

Donnie stepped forwards and patted Leo’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Leo. We…” They glanced back at the other two who stared blankly, and rephrased. “Well, I get it. We’ll leave you alone if you want that, I’m sure Raph can handle being the leader for a day-”

Raph coughed something that sounded like ‘Oh please no’, and Donnie gave him a hard glare.

“Ugh…yeah sure I can, Fearless. So long as Snakeweed doesn’t show up.” He said finally, although he looked pissed despite the words.

But Leo had already vanished down the corridor.

He didn’t think he could have sat there any longer, listening to his siblings talk…and for the second time in the past twenty-four hours, he found his eyes watering out of control.

He wiped the tears from his face as he ran into the lair, but they kept coming.

He’d messed up so much, and now he’d lost you. Maybe forever.

He slammed the door to his room open and slumped onto the bed.

He wished he’d never met Karai. He wished he’d been a better friend. But it was too late now…

Leo wrapped his arms around himself and let out a choked sob. He was so stupid. Maybe it was a good thing you’d left him…after all, he was clearly not good enough to be your friend, much less your boyfriend. He was dumb for even hoping you’d ever like him, regardless of what Raph said.

Raph was wrong, he thought, rubbing his eyes on his knee pads. You didn’t like him…why would you?!

After all, he was more than just a weird looking sewer freak: He was a weird looking sewer freak who’d hurt you again and again just to keep himself from getting hurt.

(You’re an insecure teenager, Leonardo, said a voice in his head that sounded like Master Splinter. Of course you’ve made a mistake, it’s part of growing up- Leo shook his head and ignored the voice, choosing instead to let loose a rampant pile of insults on himself.) (Stupid, stupid, incompetent leader. Dumb turtle. Bad friend. Dishonorable sad loser who’s feeling sorry for himself again…)

He tried really hard not to cry, but it was far too late for that, seeing as everything in his general vicinity was soaked with salty tears.

He sighed and took a deep breath. It was okay, things were gonna be okay. You’d said you wanted a break, not that you wanted him dead, so that meant he might just get to see you again someday, right?

Someday when he would be older, wiser, and maybe a bit taller if he was lucky, and then he could take you out to the forest under a starry sky and say ‘I am so so sorry, (Y/N). I love you and I wish we could be friends again.’ and you’d say ‘Wow Leonardo! You’ve grown and changed so much- you’re way more like Captain Ryan than you are like that dumb idiot kid I had to deal with all those years ago- I can’t say I love you yet because you’re so different that I barely know you, but I’d love to get to know you! You wanna get boba tea or something?’ and he’d say ‘Heck yeah’ and then you’d finally be friends again and everything would be perfect and he’d never be so stupid ever again-

…But that was just a daydream. In reality, it was far more likely that in the future he’d still be…A: a stupid kid. B: 5’1. Maybe 5’2 if he was lucky. C: a scary sewer freak that you were only ever friends with because you were so kind that you didn’t mind his quirks.

In reality it’d probably go more along the lines of ‘Hey (Y/N), I miss you.’ And then you’d say ‘Seriously? You’re still not over that? Damn you’re an even bigger loser than I thought. Also I’m dating this hot human boy who looks more like Captain Ryan than you’ll ever get to look.’ And then you’d show him a picture of your hot new boyfriend and Leo would inevitably end up with a hate-crush on him because you had awesome taste in everything and your taste in guys was no exception…which is exactly why he knew you would never ever date him.

Which was fine. Leo understood. But he didn’t know what he’d do without having you as a friend…but Leo also wasn’t an asshole. He might miss you, but you didn’t wanna see him, and he sure as heck wasn’t gonna cross that boundary as tempting as it was…

He swallowed. His train of thought was getting pretty unhinged, he was probably spiralling…he took a deep breath and got up from his bed to get some tea.

He stirred the matcha powder into his cup and watched it swirl…things would be okay, right?

Yeah…yeah. He still had Splinter. He still had his siblings. Maybe someday he’d get to have you back, but in the meantime…the sky was clear, the Krang weren’t causing too much trouble, Slash hadn’t killed them yet, he had a tea party with Chloe scheduled…

Life would go on.

It was gonna be okay.

***

No pt.2

Author's note: So there's gonna be a happy ending in which you say "Yes" coming out soon, but I'm also very tempted to do a separate happy-ish conclusion to the "No" storyline...do you guys think that would be confusing? Because if it's too contrived I'll just leave it as is, but if you guys want to see a good ending to this chapter, let me know I guess?

Taglist for this mini-series:

@saspas-corner

@beansap

@xyntix

@futuristicpandakidd

@raphies1wife

#tmnt x reader #tmnt 2012 x reader #reader insert #gender neutral reader #gn!reader #tmnt leo x reader #tmnt 2012 leo x reader #leonardo x reader #tmnt 2012 leo #2k12 leo x reader #2k12 leo #i've been tired fic

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starwalker42 · 10 months

Text

human credentials

A realisation, a car ride, and a question.

“Scully… do you think there’s a chance you might be autistic?”

Autistic!Scully fic, because my brain wouldn't shut up until I wrote it. I've pictured it taking place in season 2, but it could probably fit anywhere between season 1-6. Many thanks to @i-want-those-files for the autistic Scully meta that started this whole thing, and for the Discord loaves who have put up with me talking about this for weeks <3

Read on AO3 | @today-in-fic

It's been a long morning.

A phone call at 3am; Skinner’s voice, still thick with sleep, apologising for the early hour. Some weapons bust at a warehouse in northern Virginia – intel was fresh, perps were in place, and all hands were needed on deck for go time in two hours. A car would be outside his apartment in ten minutes. Mulder had rolled off his couch, turned off Space Odyssey, and was waiting by the kerb within two.

Scully was already in the back of the sedan, but they’d maybe exchanged ten words on the way – she’d dozed as Mulder had watched the pitch-black countryside roll past the window, feeling a familiar itch buzz through him. If he was back at his apartment, he’d be heading out for a run to shake it off. He guessed an armed raid would be a suitable replacement.

They got to the rendezvous late, barely twenty minutes before it was time to go – just enough time to get kitted out and receive a rundown on the plan. He sat next to Scully in the SWAT van, elbows bumping in the close quarters, and waited for the signal to go.

It was loud, messy, but over in less than ten minutes – the gang had been caught unaware, with barely a chance to react. All the same, there were casualties: two agents and four suspects wounded in the crossfire, and one suspect dead from a hand grenade he’d detonated accidentally. Mulder’s ears were still ringing, four hours later.

Four hours later, when he’s still at the warehouse, because a big raid like this means one thing: paperwork.

His rifle has been checked three separate times, and he’s been asked the same questions twice, by separate senior officers: How many times did you fire your weapon? Do you feel you reacted with proportionate force? Who provided your orders? Did you voice any concerns prior to engagement? Were these listened to by your task force leader?

And he’s answered the questions as they want him to, playing the good little FBI agent and biting back any sarcastic response that threatens to raise its head. They’ve shut the X-Files before. He doesn’t need to give them encouragement to do it again.

Once the seniors are satisfied, he’s allowed to go, so long as he promises to keep his cell phone close by and not to speak to any press until the official statement is released. They give him permission to turn in his vest and helmet, and after leaving the debrief area he’s finally allowed to talk to the other agents milling around the scene, looking just as drained and bored as he feels.

There’s only one agent he wants to talk to, but she’s nowhere to be found.

He feels his heart twist in something that feels like disappointment as he realises she’s probably long gone, on her way back home after her own debrief. There’s an understanding that they won’t be in the office until later, now, but part of him had been hoping they’d drive back to Washington together, sharing common grievances and singing to the radio. He swallows the familiar feeling of abandonment and asks another agent how to get out of here.

“There are cars out the back.” Mulder nods and turns to leave, until the agent adds, “Good luck out there.”

He doesn’t bother asking why, but the comment is explained soon enough.

Someone must have tipped off the press, because the moment he steps out of the warehouse he’s blinded by camera flashes. There are microphones being thrust towards him, and he can’t respond even if he’d wanted to, because all the questions are flowing together, too loud for him to hear. For a long moment he just stands there, blinking away the sunspots in his vision.

Then he remembers – he’s got to be a good little FBI agent, and standing mute and dumb in front of the press is not a good look.

“Excuse me.” He squeezes past the cameras, keeping his head down.

He isn’t wearing his windbreaker, and he hopes that with nothing to formally identify him as FBI the journalists will soon lose interest. A few keep trying as he edges through the crowd, but after a few ‘no comment’s they leave him alone.

As he leaves them behind, the first drops of rain start to fall. He hurries around the side of the warehouse to the cars, flashing his ID to the agent monitoring them as he ducks under the ticker tape.

It’s a standard fleet, government-issue black sedans, and Mulder knows each one has the keys waiting for him in the ignition, ready for him to head back to Alexandria with the understanding that he’ll return it to the Hoover Building at his convenience.

He doesn’t like being a good little FBI agent, but it does have its perks.

He’s surveying the cars, reading to take his pick, when he sees a flash of red hair out of the corner of his eye.

It’s Scully. She’s sat in a car – in the passenger seat, he realises with a grin.

She waited. Of course she did.

He practically bounds over, throwing open the driver’s door, and leans in. “To Georgetown, ma’am?”

She doesn’t acknowledge him. At first, he thinks nothing of it, just climbs into the seat and starts to buckle his seatbelt, but then he notices her hands. She’s got both of them resting on her thighs, and she’s clenching and releasing her fists, over and over, so fast it seems an almost unintentional movement, a spasm of muscles.

He looks up at her face, and realises her eyes are squeezed shut. Her shoulders are tight, pulled up towards her ears, and her hands keep going. In, out, in, out.

He’s never seen her like this. He’s not sure what to make of it.

“Scully?”

There’s a noise, then, a whine almost, quiet but continuous, and it takes him a moment to realise that it’s coming from his partner.

“Scully?”

It doesn’t stop. To his distress, her movements start to get more frantic, her fists clenching faster and faster, until suddenly something changes. Before he can stop her, her hands have come up and she’s hitting herself, slapping her open palms against the side of her head hard enough that it must be hurting, but she doesn’t stop.

Mulder doesn’t think, just moves – he gets out of the car, indifferent to the steady downpour that’s now started, and heads to her side, opening the passenger door. He reaches in and grabs her wrists, so tight he can see the skin there turning red as he pulls her arms away, back into her lap.

“Scully, stop.”

His touch seems to freeze her, and she stops, not fighting him – but as soon as her hands still, her feet start to move, her knees bouncing up and down, and she’s still making that noise, a soft keening in the back of her throat. Frantic, he runs his eyes over her, searching for an injury, blood, anything that would explain… oh.

Some part of his brain finally kicks into gear, and as he watches her, watches the tension in her body and the need to move, it all slowly starts to make sense in a way he hadn’t been expecting but now seems entirely logical.

“Scully,” he says quietly, kneeling down next to the car. “Scully, I think I know what’s going on. I know you need to help yourself calm down, but I can’t let you do something that’ll hurt you. Okay?”

She doesn’t stop moving, doesn’t open her eyes or relax, but she acknowledges him, gives him a quick, jerky nod of the head.

“So if I let go of you, I need you to do something that won’t hurt. Promise me?”

Scully nods again, and he releases her wrists.

As he’s expected, her legs slow their bouncing as she laces her fingers together, squeezing them against each other. Little by little, her shoulders start to relax.

Mulder stays kneeling by her side, and keeps his voice quiet, his tone even.

“Can you tell me what happened back there?”

For a long moment, Scully doesn’t reply, just sits there, clenching her hands. Then, just as quietly as he had, she speaks. “It was too much. It was just… too loud, and too bright, and there were too many people, and it wouldn’t stop.”

Her hands start to move faster, and he fights the urge to grab onto her again. Instead, he exaggerates his breathing, gently prompting Scully to do the same, helping her breaths come slow and deep. He waits until her hands slow down, and then asks her another question.

“How can I help?”

“Uh…” She gives a shaky smile at that. “Honestly, just keep doing what you’re doing.”

That eases the grip of fear from around his heart, just a little. He’s doing something right, at least. Realising he’s still crouched next to her open door, he starts to straighten, giving her space.

“Should I get back in the car?”

For the first time, Scully’s eyes open, seeking his.

“No,” she pleas. “Stay there?”

Her desperation makes him pause; he relaxes back onto his haunches as her eyes slide shut again, and stays in place by her side, feeling the rain drip off his hair. “Okay. I’m here for as long as you need me.”

Gradually, her hands start to slow, moving from a regular rhythm of clenching and releasing to an occasional squeeze together, until they’re resting on her lap, entwined but still. Her breathing has steadied, too, and with a final deep inhale Scully lifts her head and opens her eyes again to look at him.

“Okay. I think I’m okay.”

There's a moment where he wants to say something, wants to take her hand and squeeze it, but he stops himself, aware they’re not completely alone.

Instead, he suggests the only thing that he can. "Do you want to get out of here?"

She breaks eye contact, something under the surface that he can’t quite place. "Yeah. Let's do that."

He gets back in the car and they drive.

xXx

It’s been almost an hour of driving before Scully speaks.

“I’m sorry about that.”

They’ve made good progress through the near-empty roads on the way to DC, but now, as they near the capital, the traffic has started to pile up; Mulder watches the rain bounce off the trunk of the car ahead as he tries to think of a way to reply.

Finally, he settles for an easy response, a non-answer, really. “How are you feeling now?”

“Better. Calmer. I think it was bad because I hadn’t slept - my nerves were a little frayed.”

“Has it happened before?”

“A few times. I normally deal with it before it gets that bad.”

What she doesn’t say doesn’t escape his attention. This has happened before. Multiple times.

He tries not to think about that – about her struggling, panicking, feeling overwhelmed and not feeling able to tell anyone. Has it happened when he’s been close by? After she’s left the office, or in the adjoining motel room? Have there been times where he’s missed it, or mistaken it for tiredness or irritation, when actually it was something deeper, something far more difficult for her to explain?

He remembers what crossed his mind, standing in the rain next to the car.

“Scully…” He starts, immediately trailing off as the words escape him.

How do you ask something like this? And not just to a stranger, but to a friend, his partner, who knows him better than anyone? Who he knows better than anyone?

Someone he should know better than anyone. There’s a voice at the back of his head asking why it took him so long to notice, why he never asked the right questions or picked up on certain things, why it took him until now to join the dots together. He can’t indulge that voice right now - there’ll be time for blame and rumination later. He needs to finish his question, get it out before he loses the confidence to do so. So, before he can overthink it any further, he sets his jaw and bites the bullet.

“Do you think there’s a chance you might be autistic?”

He can’t look at her as he says it, but there’s a pause, and he feels her eyes on him. He keeps his fixed on the headlights of the car in front, giving her time. She can shout at him if she wants to – he thinks he might deserve it.

She doesn’t shout. After a moment, she asks him a question in response. “You’re the psychologist, right?”

He knows what she’s asking, and he doesn’t want to lie to her.

“I think… I think what happened earlier, what you described, was sensory overload. And what you were doing with your hands looked a lot like stimming.”

“And that’s related to autism?”

“It can be.” She’s not going to let him drop it, not that easily, so he fishes for the right words for a moment. “Scully, I can’t diagnose you, and even if I could I wouldn’t want to. A diagnostic label is so definite, and people can find it so harmful if they’re not ready, and the last thing I want to do is to make you feel uncomfortable - I know it’s not easy to hear, not if you’re still processing the idea.”

He stops himself, aware the words are coming out faster than he can control them.

“I guess what I’m saying is that I don’t want to upset you.”

“You’re not.” He turns to look at her. She’s looking right back, endless blue shining with a resolute certainty. “Mulder, back there… that’s the first time anyone has ever understood what’s going on, or said something helpful. When I used to – what did you call it?”

“Stimming. Self-stimulating.”

“I used to do it sometimes, in grade school, when it got loud, or everything was too much. I’d just… click my fingers, or clench my fist over and over. But then the teachers told me off for fidgeting, and the other kids laughed at me, so I forced myself to stop.”

He forces himself to wait, to let her fill the silence.

She takes a long, deep breath.

“I remember thinking ‘what’s wrong with me?’. It felt like there was some big joke, something everyone else was in on, but that I couldn’t work out.

“I still feel it now, sometimes, this sense of…” she gestures vaguely. “Of something being wrong. Something’s wrong with me, and everyone else knows, but I can never pinpoint what it is.”

She runs her tongue over her lip, and her next words shake a little. "Mulder, are there… are there other things? About me?"

He knows what she means. And she wants it from him straight, so that's how he gives it to her.

"I know that when people make small talk with you, you get uncomfortable. You prefer it when people say and act how they think, and you find fitting in with people, especially other women, difficult. You don't like change. You have a very rigid belief system, and you don't like anything challenging that. Expressing emotion doesn't come easily to you, but when you feel you feel a lot. You like numbers and science and the certainty of the laws of nature."

And there's nothing wrong with you, he thinks, but doesn't say. There's nothing wrong with you at all.

Scully's quiet for a long moment. He knows her well enough to know that this means she's thinking, probably too much.

“Okay. I probably, to some degree, fit the profile. But I can do all those things. I can make small talk and act interested in those conversations, and I can tolerate uncertainty and change. And I can deal with too much noise and movement, most of the time.”

“Isn’t that the problem?”

She looks at him.

“The words you’re using, Scully. ‘Act’, and ‘tolerate’ and ‘deal with’. You don’t do those things because you find them easy, or because you enjoy them. It’s because you have to.

"A lot of autistic people - autistic women, especially - talk about pretending. Masking how they actually are or feel, because they want to blend in. It's like… like constantly wearing a disguise you don't feel safe enough to take off."

She falls silent again. The cars ahead start to move, and he puts the car into drive, almost missing her next words under the noise of the engine.

“I thought that was how everyone felt.”

Mulder doesn’t know how to respond to that, or if she even needs a response, so he just waits.

“Sometimes I feel like I don’t even know myself. So much of who I am is for other people, to fit in, and I don’t even know why I bother because it doesn’t make me feel better. Instead I feel like I’m hiding, and I’m terrified of being found out. I’m waiting for someone to realise I’m not who I pretend to be.

“You know, I get so excited about science. About the beauty and the mystery of it, and its absurdity and incredibility, about how I’ll never know everything about how the world works, and how the laws of nature and physics are older than the Earth, and will keep the universe moving even after I’m gone. But I can’t explain that to anyone in a way that makes sense, so I pretend I’m interested in science and medicine in the same way everyone else is.

“But it’s not just that, it’s everything else. I mean, at work I wear certain clothes and style my hair in a certain way, not because I want to but because that’s how I’m expected to, and I look in the mirror and don’t recognise myself because that’s not me. I feel like you’re one of the only people who’s ever seen past that, who even gets close to knowing who I actually am. To everyone else, I’m completely different. I’m some person who doesn’t even exist, it’s just a lie.”

She pauses.

"It's… it’s exhausting.” Saying that seems to help some of the tension leave her body.

“That’s how I feel. I don’t know if I can explain how… how tiring it is, having to be normal, for other people.”

“What if you didn’t have to be?”

She gives him a look. "Mulder."

"No, just bear with me for a minute. I know you won't be able to with everyone, but with me, at least. What if you could completely let go of that need to be normal?"

Another pause. Then, so quiet he almost doesn’t hear: "I'm afraid."

He's only heard her say that once before, sat at his bedside discussing belief and life after death, and her father who passed away only a few short days before.

"I think I'm afraid of what happens if I let go of the mask."

Something twinges in his chest at the idea that Scully – Scully, who can stand in front of a team of seasoned agents and give orders with the best of them, who will stare death in the face without blinking, who is the kindest, most compassionate, most amazing person he’s ever known, is scared of the judgement of other people.

The words come to the front of his mind again, and this time he feels them almost slip from his lips: There is nothing wrong with you. Everything you think is weird, or wrong, or unacceptable, makes you perfect. You’re incredible, Scully.

But he can’t say that. Can’t allow himself to say it, not like this, because he’s a little bit scared of what it signifies. So instead, he says something that he hopes is close enough to what he means, what he wishes he could say.

"Scully, I am the last person on earth who would judge you." It comes out softer than he'd intended it to.

Slowly, they edge forward with the traffic, the rain starting to slow. He doesn’t take his eyes of the car ahead, but he can feel her thinking all the same. This time he finds himself filling the silence.

“I want you to know that if the office is ever too loud, or we’ve just come out of a busy meeting, and you need time to yourself or you need to stim, you can do. I know it might be hard if you’re used to hiding it, but I don’t want you to feel like you can’t.”

“I wouldn’t want to distract you.”

He glances across at her. “Scully, I do it around you all the time. It doesn’t bother me.”

They stop again. There’s a moment of silence, and when he turns to face her, Scully’s looking at him, forehead creasing in confusion. Mulder suddenly realises that he’s always just assumed Scully knew.

“I stim.” He answers her unasked question. “When I tap pencils, or chew seeds? It’s different to you, I do it to concentrate, but it’s the same thing.”

“But you’re not…”

“Autistic? No, I’m not.” Now he has to explain, he’s not actually sure how to. He’s never said the words out loud before. “In 1983, ten years after Samantha went missing, there was a police inquiry into her disappearance. I had to have a psychiatrist assess me, to check how reliable my testimony was, and if there was a chance I had a psychotic disorder that would explain what I saw.

“When he finished the assessment, he asked why no one had ever assessed me for attention deficit disorder before.”

Scully smiles at that, her lips twisting into a half-grin.

“I know,” Mulder jokes. “You’d think I would have worked that out sooner, given the 21 years I’d spent with my brain and the three-year psychology degree.”

The traffic starts to move again – the roads are clearing now as rush hour comes to an end and they move further towards the centre of the city. They both fall quiet once more, Mulder’s attention on the roads ahead and Scully back to gazing out of the window. It’s a peaceful silence, though, one that Mulder hopes is a good sign rather than an indicator that Scully’s lost in her own thoughts again. Neither talk until he pulls up outside of her apartment building, which is when Scully turns to look at him, one hand on the door handle.

“Mulder?”

“Mm?”

“Thank you.”

He hears the gratitude in her voice, deeper than he’d expected. He can’t quite acknowledge it; he wants to tell her she has nothing to thank him for - that all he’s done, really, is the bare minimum, and probably far too late, at that.

He doesn’t say any of that – just nods a little, in understanding, and offers her a small smile.

“Any time.”

She opens the door, saying over her shoulder almost as a second thought, “I’ll see you later?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Scully glances back at him properly, and he gives her a full-blown grin. “I’ve got a case about hydrokinesis that’s got your name on it.”

She rolls her eyes at him as she gets out of the car, and he laughs.

#xf fanfic #txf fic #msr #my writing #please someone validate my headcanons lol

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prettysweetprettysweet · 10 months

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guys. i've got something to tell you and it's so important....it's so important. but first a recap:

- news that mileapo are coming to Paris, arriving at the same time as @fulltimehabibti and i. ranya texts me the news, all of a sudden i, who has not thought about kinnporsche in a good long while, am utterly consumed by the idea of seeing them with my own eyeballs and confirming they are real human beings. my thoughts return to this constantly throughout the day. i do not want to speak to them or have them notice me! i just want to perceive them.

- our hotel is right next to the Dior Gallery and mileapo are here for the Dior show. the next day, we tap out of our day for a tiny 30 minute break, walking past the Dior Gallery to our hotel. we discover on our way back out that mileapo had been posing with fans only 7 minutes prior at the exact location that we were standing when we discovered this.

- ranya goes to the Dior show and sees them, takes great videos and photos. I literally could not go because of work deadlines. i think, perhaps having reached a neutral point, that there might be another opportunity soon but probably the universe has orchestrated a series of misses to humble me.

- I discover that I had booked our Louvre tickets for the wrong day. we can no longer go for our late evening ticket. during the exact window we were meant to be at the Louvre, mileapo end up there. i am heartbroken but i've made peace with the fact that i won't see them and i'm just glad Ranya got to see them

-today. we are all over, the Rodin museum, pointedly to a few stores looking for certain items, we end up walking by the Galeries Lafayette. ranya asks 'have you ever gone in?' and sort of with a light where-the-wind-takes-us attitude ('yeah lets go in im in the mood to look at stuff') we wander into the galleries and spend about an hour perusing the floors when ranya asks, 'do you want to get bubble tea at this shop?' we head leisurely to the nearest exit.

-we walk out one of the exit doors and me and ranya see him at the same time. i am thrown off because he looks so different in person but i know something is happening. stopped dead in our tracks, ranya says two words: 'that's pond.'

-literally dead in our tracks. we are four feet away from pond who has just stepped out of a van and is waiting patiently. we know something is about to happen and we don't move. mile and apo quickly pile out of the van with huge smiles on their faces. for about a minute they collect themselves, turn, and walk right past us to enter the gallery. five feet away from us, no one in between us. we were not noticed.

a city of 2 million people, an area of 104 km, a full day of activities and our steady stream of minute decisions led entirely by ranya's instincts thoughts and questions, brings us straight to the feet of mile and apo. the probability of that happening is absolutely insane. the previous misses, the way we (mostly me) were obsessing about it, the absolute perfect timing, exiting through that door, us noticing pond despite the hundreds of bodies around us.

i snapped a photo as they walked away bc i couldn't live with myself if i didn't have proof that this insane luck befell ranya who is blessed and god's favorite (i entertain no delusions that i had any hand in this, if anything i was a disability her guardian spirits had to work around).

as i told ranya, i believe in god now. also, this moment was so perfect and absolute that i think im immune to celebrity culture now. i could see al pacino on the streets tomorrow and i wouldn't be phased. i think i also might be ready to die

#mileapo #kinnporsche #yo mismo #apo nattawin #mile phakphum

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mariana-oconnor · 1 year

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The Stockbroker's Clerk pt 2

Missed this until now because I decided to start knitting and then i didn't stop. Whoops.

Also I've read in a couple of places that Mr Pycroft, our victim, is going around using antisemitic language, so yeah... not great. I am not well-versed in slurs, apparently, or at least old timey ones. And I was rooting for him, too.

Nice little bit of history about tomorrow's bank holiday (wooo! bank holiday month. Three four day weeks this year. I suppose the coronation had to be good for something.)

Then Sherlock Holmes cocked his eye at me, leaning back on the cushions with a pleased and yet critical face, like a connoisseur who has just taken his first sip of a comet vintage.

This is the least relatable simile I have ever read, seeing as I don't like wine and have no idea what a 'comet vintage' is. I was going to look it up, but then decided that my first instinct that it was brewed from alien glowing grapes grown from meteor seeds that fall from the sky is far more fun and I'm just going to be sticking with it. Honestly, it feels like a fun worldbuilding idea. Maybe I should use it.

Not the point. Just... I have no idea what's going on with Holmes' face here.

“Oh, easily enough,” said Hall Pycroft, cheerily. “You are two friends of mine who are in want of a billet, and what could be more natural than that I should bring you both round to the managing director?”

Getting a job interview, as always, is a lot more about who you know, it seems. Although this seems easy even by that standard. At a job you've been at for... a month? I can't remember the exact timeline. But maybe you should leave it a little longer before bringing your friends around for jobs. Unless the managing director has specifically asked if you know anyone (and I'm betting he hasn't).

"Or is it possible that—” He began biting his nails and staring blankly out of the window, and we hardly drew another word from him until we were in New Street.

Don't bite your nails, Holmes. Come on now. Also, I find it hilarious that both Watson and Mr Pycroft might just be staring at him, waiting for him to finish. My Dad trails off like this sometimes and when we prompt him to finish his sentence he stares at us blankly and can't even remember what he started saying.

“It is no use our being at all before our time,” said our client. “He only comes there to see me, apparently, for the place is deserted up to the very hour he names.” “That is suggestive,” remarked Holmes.

Yeah, I might have tried following him by this point. That's very suspicious.

I had never looked upon a face which bore such marks of grief, and of something beyond grief—of a horror such as comes to few men in a lifetime. His brow glistened with perspiration, his cheeks were of the dull, dead white of a fish's belly, and his eyes were wild and staring. He looked at his clerk as though he failed to recognize him, and I could see by the astonishment depicted upon our conductor's face that this was by no means the usual appearance of his employer.

This is ominous. Something has clearly gone terribly wrong. Or maybe it's auspicious because we're pretty sure this is the bad guy who is planning Crimes, so maybe we should be glad that he's all dead fish-ified. Lovely graphic description there. ACD is very good at vivid character descriptions. I don't usually picture things as I read them, and I can almost see this guy. I have very strong vibes of him, anyway.

“One is Mr. Harris, of Bermondsey, and the other is Mr. Price, of this town,” said our clerk, glibly.

Hall Pycroft lies like a fucking pro. No hesitation. No thinking, straight out with the fake names and origins. I get that he's already prepped this on the train journey (or before) but he doesn't even pause. Cool as a cucumber, no shame. Mr Pycroft should be the criminal. Genuinely.

“I have every hope that the company may accommodate you. I will let you know about it as soon as we come to any conclusion. And now I beg that you will go. For God's sake leave me to myself!”

That's actually more polite than I was expecting him to be. But wow, sudden heel turn there at the end. Mr Pinner is having a Bad Day. If you're feeling that sick, maybe you shouldn't have come in, Mr Pinner. Surely you, at your entirely legitimate business, have a secretary or assistant or enterprising urchin you could send with a message. I'm sure it isn't just you at this totally real and non-fraudulent company.

All of your assistants must have the day off, I guess.

“You may wait here a moment; and there is no reason why your friends should not wait with you. I will be entirely at your service in three minutes, if I might trespass upon your patience so far.”

Yeah... he's not coming back. Those are not the words of a man who is coming back. I'm not sure if he's going to make a run for it or throw himself out of the window at this point. Watson was very clear about him looking pretty terrible about things.

“Is he giving us the slip?” “Impossible,” answered Pycroft. [...] “There is no exit?” “None.”

I didn't mean it about him throwing himself out the window... Guys... guys?

Although a window would count as an exit, I suppose. But seriously, is he about to kill himself? Do I need to put a suicide warning tag on this post.

"If ever a man was three parts mad with terror, that man's name is Pinner. What can have put the shivers on him?”

In my 'supernatural is real' alternate universe version of this fic, Banshee.

In the canon universe, I can only assume his accomplice in London has been discovered and he is in immediate and definite danger from someone more dangerous than the police. Maybe he double crossed his partner and his partner found out. Maybe both he and his partner are double crossing a third party who likes to solve problems with direct (violent) action?

His words were interrupted by a sharp rat-tat from the direction of the inner door. “What the deuce is he knocking at his own door for?” cried the clerk. Again and much louder cam the rat-tat-tat.

The horror movie vibes are strong in this one. This is just a classic horror movie scene. I take it back, it wasn't a banshee, it was a monster like the ring girl or something and after you hear the knocking you have three days before it comes out of the shadows and eats your soul and wears your flesh.

Time to grab your weapons.

Then suddenly came a low guggling, gargling sound, and a brisk drumming upon woodwork.

Either Mr Pinner dying of self-administered poison, OR a goo monster is disappearing between the gaps in the floorboards. It's 50/50, really.

Following his example, we threw ourselves upon it with all our weight. One hinge snapped, then the other, and down came the door with a crash. Rushing over it, we found ourselves in the inner room. It was empty.

MORE DOOR SMASHING. YES!

Oh my god he did liquefy and dribble through the floorboards. RIP to the cleaners of the offices on the fourth floor.

But it was only for a moment that we were at fault. At one corner, the corner nearest the room which we had left, there was a second door.

Fake out. Seriously? There's a whole-ass door in there, Mr Pycroft. What do you mean no exits. That's an exit. It's a door. Do you even use your eyes?

Oh...

OK, I really didn't mean that he was going to kill himself. I... yikes. Well. I'm not quoting the description in here because that's graphic and unpleasant. But I do wonder at the logistics of his knees being drawn up...

I stooped over him and examined him. His pulse was feeble and intermittent, but his breathing grew longer, and there was a little shivering of his eyelids, which showed a thin white slit of ball beneath.

Not dead. Phew.

"Just open that window, and hand me the water carafe.” I undid his collar, poured the cold water over his face, and raised and sank his arms until he drew a long, natural breath.

And Watson is doing his medicine thing, which admittedly seems to boil down to 'he's not dead, we must water him like a plant.' Cutting edge Victorian medicine, ladies and gentlemen! The raising and lowering of his arms, I imagine must have something to do with his blood flow. I don't know if that does any good, though. I doubt it, because I've never seen or heard of it before, but I am not a trained medical professional, so what do I know? I'm sure Watson absolutely knows what he's doing.

“I suppose we ought to call the police in now,” said he. “And yet I confess that I'd like to give them a complete case when they come.”

I mean, modern day, I'd probably call an ambulance rather than the police at this point, but I guess Watson has done all that can be done. It's up to Mr Pinner to survive, now.

Love how reluctant Holmes sounds, though. Like a child who has been told to share their favourite toy.

“Well, the whole thing hinges upon two points. The first is the making of Pycroft write a declaration by which he entered the service of this preposterous company. Do you not see how very suggestive that is?”

That did seem odd, but I'm not sure how that could be used against him. Unless he's being scapegoated. Or unless they showed it to Mawson's. But that would mean that they weren't impersonating him.

"Don't you see, my young friend, that they were very anxious to obtain a specimen of your handwriting, and had no other way of doing it?”

Okay, so it was for the impersonation? Because all Mawson's had of Mr Pycroft to use for validation was the letter he wrote them, so the impersonator is a professional forger who has just been forging Pycroft's handwriting this whole time? That makes a certain amount of sense.

"But in the interval the rogue had learned to imitate you, and his position was therefore secure, as I presume that nobody in the office had ever set eyes upon you.”

Yep yep. Feeling pretty good right now. I didn't think of the handwriting thing, but I already had the rest of the solution, so that's fine. I can live with that.

“Ah yes, they keep a permanent guard there on account of the value of the securities that they hold. I remember hearing it talked of in the City.”

Ah yes, the massive motive for a potential crime they have, which I am now mentioning in passing and which I'm sure has nothing to do with any of this.

“The paper!” croaked a voice behind us. The man was sitting up, blanched and ghastly, with returning reason in his eyes, and hands which rubbed nervously at the broad red band which still encircled his throat.

OH MOTHERF- I was going to quote that bit about him buying a paper on his way to the office and say that I thought the paper must be important, then I decided against it, and my own innate sense of honesty forbids me to go back and add it in retrospectively now. Bugger it all. I really did read that and think 'The paper must be important' but then backtracked in my own head. Gosh and Darn. I'd forgotten about it.

This is very irritating. Like when you're at a quiz and you say the right answer and then talk yourself into changing it to a different one. BAH!

‘Crime in the City. Murder at Mawson & Williams's. Gigantic attempted Robbery. Capture of the Criminal.’

Oh wow, his partner murdered someone and got caught. I guess that would probably be enough to get Pinner the death penalty too for conspiracy. I'm not sure what crimes were punishable by death at that time.

"For some time back Mawson & Williams, the famous financial house, have been the guardians of securities which amount in the aggregate to a sum of considerably over a million sterling"

Obligatory inflation calculation says a million pounds in 1890 comes out to £103,648,764.51 in modern money. So yeah... that's a pretty big motive.

"This person appears to have been none other that Beddington, the famous forger and cracksman, who, with his brother, had only recently emerged from a five years' spell of penal servitude."

Cracksman, I assume means a safe cracker. I definitely prefer it as a term. And I think it should be noted that Mr Pinner was not lying about having a brother. He was lying about him being his own brother... and literally everything else. But he does have a brother. So that's something, right? 👍👍

"Sergeant Tuson, of the City Police, [...] with the aid of Constable Pollack"

These newspaper articles are always so keen to give us the names of the people involved. This is good for the police officers, but not so good for Mr Hall Pycroft, as now his name is not going to be particularly welcome in the world of stocks and banking.

"His brother, who usually works with him, has not appeared in this job as far as can at present be ascertained, although the police are making energetic inquiries as to his whereabouts."

'Energetic' enquiries. I know they mean that they're actively pursuing leads and putting a lot of effort into hunting him down, but this made me think of them doing star jumps or running on the spot as they knock on doors and ask questions.

"Human nature is a strange mixture, Watson. You see that even a villain and murderer can inspire such affection that his brother turns to suicide when he learns that his neck is forfeited."

So he tried to kill himself because his brother was going to be sentenced for murder?

Am I just a bad sibling, because that 100% does not strike me as a thing a person would even vaguely think of doing? That's like... weirdly obsessive and creepy levels of sibling love. 'I can't live without him'? I know they're criminals and at least one of them is a murderer, but I really think these two need extensive therapy to help them become less co-dependent. That's a toxic family relationship, right there. I don't even know what to make of it.

Once again, Holmes doesn't actually solve the case, not really. I mean, he does, but the main crime has already been thwarted before he gets there. It's so weird how that happens.

No idea what's going to happen to Mr Hall Pycroft now. I doubt he's getting a job at Mawson's after he's played a part in that little crime. And like I said, his name's been in the paper associated with the criminals, so I doubt he's getting a job anywhere else, either. He might have to change his name and possibly also his career path. Sucks to be him, I guess?

#Letters from Watson #The Stockbroker's Clerk #Sherlock Holmes #attempted suicide #long post

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jxtina-86 · 11 months

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Tell Me When It Kicks In - Part 1

Late night conversations in hotel rooms lead to so much more.

Split into two parts - first is Seth/Siobhan. Part 2 is Dean/Becca. See here for the rest of the series/order to read.

Follow-up to Wonderwall

Warning: Language/hints of smut

Rating: MA

I've been waiting all night for you to tell me, Tell me that you need me Tell me that you want me Waiting All night, Rudimental ft Ella Eyre

“Do we really have to go?” I can't help the whine that enters my voice as Siobhan picks through her suitcase.

“Yes.”

I frown at her bent form, my eyes casting down over her towel-covered back to her ass which is barely covered by said towel. I shift uncomfortably from my position in the bed, the sheets doing nothing to hide my arousal as she straightens, clothes in hand and lets the towel fall to the floor.

I curse silently as she slowly slides her panties up her legs, completely oblivious to the torture she's putting me through. Who'd have thought watching a woman dress would be as bigger turn on as watching her strip? I had that pleasure earlier, when she pushed me back onto the bed and slowly peeled away her shorts and tank top, revealing her pale skin to me for the first time in weeks.

WWE has demanded more and more of my time over the last few months, whilst Siobhan's own work has moved away from being exclusively at home, taking her across the country every few weeks. Considering that our first foray into this arrangement didn't start particularly well, we've both been cautious to make sure that we have time for each other. Even if it's just for a few hours on a Wednesday evening before Siobhan heads to the airport early the next day. By the time she returns, I'm long gone.

But despite all this, the effort is still there. Work is banned from any long periods of time we spend together, unless absolutely necessary. We refuse to spend our time exclusively in my apartment. We go out. We go to bars, we drink, we laugh, we crunch our way through bowls of nachos whilst watching the game. We go out to dinner, tease each other in dark corners of restaurants, casually touch each others thighs under the table, exchange soft, lingering kisses next to the car before driving home, her hand in mine as I kiss her knuckles. But on the evenings where we all we want to do is curl up on the couch and order in, our phones are switched off, hidden away out of sight. We surround ourselves with blankets and cushions, tucked away in our own little world.

The tension caused by our chosen employers will always be there. We can never truly escape it. But we do our best. We fight back, fight for a few hours here and there, fight to hear each others voices, even if it's just for a couple of minutes before one of us is hustled off to a meeting or to board a plane.

I haven't seen her in almost three weeks. I arrived at the hotel just after midday, finding it empty apart from her own bags and a note explaining she'd gone to lunch with Lex and Becca. So I headed to the gym, returning a couple of hours later to find her waiting for me. Despite my aching limbs, hunger took over. She felt so damn good in my arms, beneath me, on top of me. Her breath was hot on my ear, letting go of a shaky gasp, a whisper of my name as I wrapped my arms around her and held her to me.

And then she was gone, slipping from the covers and scurrying to the bathroom to shower and get ready for dinner. When I scowled, she'd chuckled and then looked pointedly at the clock and I realised that nearly four hours had passed in what felt like a few minutes. Another afternoon slipping through our fingers, our evening together sacrificed for the sake of being social.

“Where are we going anyway?” I exhale as I finally resign myself to getting out of bed.

“Some Italian place. It's only a block away.”

“And why do we have to go again?”

“They asked, we said yes,” she says, turning to face me and sliding her bra straps into place.

“But–”

She rolls her eyes as she steps towards me, her arms circling my waist. “But nothing. You get me all day tomorrow, remember?”

True. But I want more than that. And she knows it.

“We can order room service, take a long shower together...” Her lips press briefly against my shoulder. “Sleep...”

“Why can't we do that tonight?” My hands run down her back, my fingers plucking at the waistband of her panties.

“Good things come to those who wait,” she tells me with another soft kiss to my skin before pulling back. “And if we don't turn up, Lex will lose her shit. She was very specific about us all going tonight.”

“Why?” I turn to my own suitcase to draw out my wash-bag.

“I dunno. She was acting really weird.”

“How so?” I call over my shoulder as I head to the bathroom. I turn on the shower, stepping inside as Siobhan starts to rattle through her make up on the vanity unit.

“I dunno. She point-blank refused a glass of wine.”

I chuckle. “I doubt that means anything.”

“C'mon, how long have you known Lex? Since when did she ever turn down a glass?”

“Maybe she was driving?” I close my eyes as water pounds my face.

“We were in the hotel restaurant.”

“I don't know, sweetheart. Maybe she just didn't want any.” I wipe the steamed glass with my hand and see Siobhan frowning at her own reflection. “You're reading way too much into this.”

“See, that's where you're wrong,” she turns, pointing at me with a brush. “The plot thickens, Rollins. We finish eating, the waiter asks if we want coffee. Lex pulls out this packet of herbal tea from her purse.”

“She's given up coffee?” I'll give her that, it is kind of weird to think of Lex without a Starbucks glued to her hand.

“Apparently so. I have no idea how though. That stuff smelt horrific and she's just sitting there, drinking it like it's the best damn thing she's had all day.”

My laugh echoes around the bathroom as I dip back under the stream of water to rinse. Siobhan mutters something that I don't hear.

“What's that?” I shut off the shower.

“Doesn't matter.”

Wrapping a towel around my waist, I step behind Siobhan, my hands gliding over her hips as she leans closer to the mirror to line her eyes black. “I'm sure Lex is fine. And if something's up, she'll tell you.”

“I just...” she pulls back, dropping the pencil with a small clatter. “I just feel like a shit friend. I haven't seen her in months, in fact, we've barely spoken. I've been so busy with work and then trying to fit in time with you and–”

My lips press against her neck, interrupting her flow. “You know I would never want you to put me before your friends. I would never hold that against you, you know that right?”

“Of course, but I just... I just feel like I should know what's wrong with her.”

“Nothing is wrong with her. Pretty sure Roman would have said something if there was.”

“I guess...” But she doesn't seem convinced, her brow furrowing as she leans forward again to coat her eyelashes.

I head back out into the bedroom, swiping another towel as I pass and scrubbing it over my head and hair. I'm convinced there is nothing wrong with Lex. Mainly because Roman has been strutting around backstage, his smile so wide, it's like he slept with a damn coat-hanger in his mouth. The guy is beyond pleased about something, yet no-one can get it out of him. I've tried, Dean's tried. Nothing. Jimmy, Jey and Naomi tried. Nothing.

“Life's good, bro.”

That's all any of us get. Life's good.

Siobhan's hand grazes my arm as she brushes past me, as I pull out pants and a shirt from my suitcase.

“Why don't you spend some time with Lex tomorrow?” I suggest as she tugs on black jeans.

“She's flying back home in the morning. But she mentioned about going back to see her mom in a few weeks, so I might go and check in on my apartment for a couple of days and catch up with her then.”

“Right.”

“That's sweet of you though,” she smiles, adjusting her hair which is striking against the green of her shirt. “But tomorrow is about us, like we agreed.”

Slipping on her heels, she approaches me, her fingers smoothing the collar of my blazer. She steps behind me and starts to pull back my semi-dry hair into a familiar knot at the base of my neck. Her fingertips brush against the back of my ears and a shiver ripples through me. Her hands slide over my shoulders when she's done, her body pressed against my back. My eyes drift closed as she presses a soft kiss to my earlobe.

She sighs, pulling back and I groan inwardly. Twisting round, I pull her back into my arms, my fingers brushing a thick lock of hair behind her ear.

“You sure I can't tempt you to start tomorrow now?” I whisper against her lips.

She allows me one, fleeting kiss before pulling back. “Later.”

Later can't come sooner.

---

Siobhan nudges me in the side as Lex covers the rim of her glass with her hand, shaking her head as the waiter offers to pour her wine. I roll my eyes in response, my focus drifting back to the menu in front of me.

“You're really taking this tee-total thing to the limit,” Siobhan comments, lifting up her own glass.

“I'm not tee-total. I'm driving,” Lex responds and I glance up in time to see Roman's hand engulf hers and squeeze softly. Lex's eyes dart up to him and they exchange similar smiles.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Siobhan about to open her mouth again, but the waiter re-appears, asking for our orders. He slowly makes his way through our orders and after I've handed him back my menu, I slip my hand under the table and squeeze Siobhan's jean-clad thigh. She glances towards me and I shake my head ever so slightly, willing her to leave whatever she was about to say unspoken. She widens her eyes in response, pursing her lips together.

She'd continued her examination of the facts as we'd made the short walk to the restaurant, only quitting the subject when we entered and saw the other four already seated. It was the first time I had seen Lex in a few months and whilst I couldn't put my finger on it, there was definitely something different about her. Roman's eyes never left Lex as she hugged both me and Siobhan on greeting, her loose white shirt billowing around her small frame as she moved.

“So Lex, what's the deal?” Dean questions as the waiter pulls back from the table.

“The deal, Ambrose?”

“Yeah, why are you dragging our asses out here for dinner?”

“Ignore him,” Becca smiles apologetically at Lex.

“Ignore me? Darlin', I ain't seen you in weeks. They,” Dean jerks a thumb towards Roman and Lex. “They know exactly what that's like, yet they still drag us out here.”

“Tell me about it,” I mutter, wincing as Siobhan elbows my side. “Hey, what was that for?”

She scowls at me and then turns back to Lex. “So c'mon then. Spit it out.”

Lex almost chokes on her water. “Spit what out?”

“Dean's right. There is obviously something you want to tell us, so let's hear it.”

“I told you this was a bad idea,” Roman chuckles, his arm circling around Lex's shoulders and pulling her closer to him.

“What was a bad idea?” Becca's eyes have narrowed, her gaze darting between the couple.

“I wanted to tell them all together,” Lex reminds Roman.

“Tell us what?” Siobhan asks, her impatience clear.

Another smile is exchanged before Lex takes a breath. “Well, we have some news.”

There's a brief pause, only punctured by a gasp from my side. I turn to see Siobhan's eyes start to widen.

“You're pregnant.”

My gaze snaps back towards Lex and Roman, who are both staring at Siobhan in surprise. Lex slowly opens her mouth and then closes it again as if realising that whatever she's about to say has... Well, already been said.

“How–” Roman blinks, breaking the stunned silence.

“I... I guessed,” Siobhan says slowly. “Hang on, I was right?” Her voice shoots up an octave. “You are pregnant?”

“Yes,” Lex finally speaks, a grin slowly transforming her face.

Siobhan lets out a squeal, her chair scraping back as she leaps to her feet. “Lex! Girl, come here!”

I chuckle softly as Siobhan bounds around the table and almost wrenches her friend from her chair to hug her once again.

“Congrats, bro,” I nod at Roman, who grins back almost sheepishly.

“Yeah, man. Fuck,” exclaims Dean. “I feel bad about complaining now. That's amazing news.”

“Thanks,” Roman nods in response, scraping a hand over his face. “She made me promise not to tell you both. Sorry.”

Behind him, Becca is releasing Lex from her own hug of congratulations. I watch with a smile as Lex smooths down her shirt, spreading the material tightly over the slight swell of her belly. Siobhan looks at it in awe, her fingers nervously sweeping across her cheeks as she grins and then pulls Lex back into another hug.

“No worries,” Dean is brushing aside Roman's apology. “Least this explains the permanent grin that's been plastered across your face. We were this close to beating that outta you.”

Roman holds up his hands in surrender. “We had the first scan a few weeks back. I couldn't help myself.” He turns, reaching for Lex. “You got the printout, baby girl?”

Siobhan and Becca return to their seats as Lex retrieves a small square of paper from her purse. Passing it to Siobhan, she points out the head and body.

“Wow,” Siobhan exhales, “He's so tiny.”

“See, told you Pumpkin's totally gonna be a boy,” Roman winks at Lex.

“Pumpkin?” I question as Siobhan passes me the scan photo, pointing out the fuzzy shape in the centre.

“The due date is October,” Lex explains. “And I'm not allowed to use 'it.'”

Just above the body is another spot of white and I suddenly realise it's a hand, raised as if waving at the camera. Passing it to Dean, I watch as Becca leans in to look as well, her head resting on his shoulder as she points out the hand as well.

“So how far long are you?” she asks, passing the scan photo back to Roman.

“Almost 15 weeks,” Lex's hand drops instinctively to her stomach, no longer attempting to hide behind her loose shirt. “But we found out about six weeks ago.” Her gaze turns to Siobhan. “So, it was really just a guess?”

“Well... We–”

“We?” Lex's eyes cut to me.

“Becca and I,” Siobhan corrects her. “We thought it was a bit weird when you turned down wine at lunch. And then coffee. And how you must have gone to the bathroom about five times in the space of two hours.”

“And the only logical explanation was pregnancy?”

“That was all Shiv,” Becca points. “I just thought it was a bit odd, s'all.”

Lex giggles and sighs. “The coffee thing is so damn hard. Like all I can smell is coffee and I'm sitting there drinking this shitty herbal tea because it's the only thing stopping me from vomiting.”

Siobhan's face crinkles in disgust. “That nasty smelling stuff prevents the vomiting?”

“The doctor said it would stop after the first trimester, but this one,” Lex points at her stomach. “This one has decided to continue on past that, just for shits and giggles.”

“You gonna find out if it's a boy or a girl?” Becca asks.

Lex shrugs as does Roman. “We haven't decided.”

“Oh, it's so going to be a boy,” Siobhan grins. “No girl would put their mama-to-be through that. He's gonna be little trouble-maker, breaking hearts wherever he goes.”

Becca chuckles. “Can you imagine if it is a girl though? Poor thing's never going to get a chance to date, not with these three.”

“Damn straight,” Roman nods.

“That's where we come in,” Siobhan nods at Becca. “Show her a few tricks.”

Lex giggles as Roman groans. “No way.”

“What?” Siobhan's face is a picture of mock-innocence. “Oh please, if you have a girl she'll have you wrapped around her little finger the second she opens her eyes.”

“Some boy'll turn up to take her to prom and despite all your scowling, she'll just bat her eyelids at you and you won't be able to say no to her,” Becca chimes in.

“Boys, c'mon, back me up here,” Roman pleads to me and Dean.

“Dude's right,” Dean tells Becca. “Time to get your own back on all those dads that gave us the death-look when we turned up for their daughters.”

“My high school girlfriend's dad took me down to the basement to show me his collection of hunting rifles,” I recall with a grimace. “He didn't say a word, just looked me in the eye and nodded. Then I'm sat in the car with her fucking hand on my thigh and whispering in my ear and all I can think about is those damn guns.”

Siobhan snorts beside me. “You mean he saw through those puppy-dog eyes of yours? What a surprise.”

I squeeze her thigh under the table. “I ain't got puppy-dog eyes.”

Dean is recalling his own memory, with a slightly more violent edge to it. But I'm distracted by the coy look in Siobhan's eye as she bites her lip.

“You do,” she murmurs quietly. “They come out when you beg.”

“I never beg.”

“Oh, really?” She looks up at me through thick lashes. “Sounded like begging earlier.”

I frown. “When?”

She raises an eyebrow in response. “When you were trying to convince me to stay in bed.”

“I'd say I was entitled to use them then.”

“And when I was riding you.”

I swallow hard as she turns back to the rest of the table. I shift uncomfortably in my seat, trying and failing to shake the image of her hands pressed against my chest as she slowly wound her hips in a figure of eight, my own hands gripping her thighs as my eyes rolled back in my head.

I blink frantically, reaching for my water. Across the table, Lex has shifted her chair closer to Roman's. His arm has snuck around her waist, his hand resting on her stomach. The now-trademark grin is plastered across his face as he looks down at Lex, who is oblivious to his gaze, her own eyes focused on Dean and Becca, giggling at the former's story.

Siobhan's hand slides over mine, resting on the table between us. Her fingers slip between mine, curling our hands into a fist and squeezing. I glance at her out of the corner of my eye and find her watching Roman and Lex too. Her eyes are soft, a small smile tugging at her lips. And then Dean makes a comment and her eyes cut to him, her voice dripping in sarcasm as she responds and my heart pounds.

---

Siobhan rocks against me as I fumble for the room key.

“I can't believe she's pregnant.”

“I can't believe you guessed,” I reply as the door clicks open and I let her enter before me.

I watch as she sits on the edge of the bed, kicking off her shoes before falling back on the crumpled sheets.

“Well, what other news could they possibly have?”

I shrug. “A new house?”

“I doubt they would have announced that over dinner.”

I join her on the bed, relishing in the way she automatically snuggles into my side. My fingers find their way through her hair, slow strokes that make her sigh happily.

“She's over the moon,” she murmurs.

“I know.”

Her hand brushes against my chest, nails scratching softly through my shirt as her lips brush against the side of my neck.

I remember the look on her face as she watched Lex and Roman and my heart starts to pound once again. A few years ago, a look like that would have had me running to the hills and I always found an excuse to extract myself from a girl's life should I ever see that look. All I wanted was company, nothing serious, nothing that required more of me than a couple of hours here and there to leave us both satisfied.

Yet...

Now that look fills me with excitement. I wouldn't say the nerves are completely gone, but they sure as hell aren't going to scare me away. No, seeing that look appear on Siobhan's face makes me want to explore the possibilities that it unearths. That look on her face tells me that there is so much more ahead of us. That look makes me wonder if a similar one has ever graced my face as well.

“You're quiet,” Siobhan whispers. “You okay?”

“Yeah, sweetheart. I'm good,” I tell her, smiling up at the ceiling as she kisses my cheek and sits up.

I shift up onto my elbows, watching as she plucks my discarded workout shirt from the floor, along with her shorts and tank top from earlier in the day. Folding them neatly, she stacks them next to our suitcases before she starts to strip. In her bra and panties, she heads for the bathroom, pushing the door half-closed behind her.

If I close my eyes and blot out the hotel room, it's like we're back in my apartment. The sounds of her moving around the bathroom are as comforting to me here as they are back in Iowa. I love her being in my space, seeing her clothes alongside mine in the closet, opening the bathroom cabinet to find my stuff pushed into a corner, whilst hers takes up the majority of the shelves. I love coming home to find her in my bed or on my couch.

I hate it when I'm there alone.

Everywhere are reminders that she should be there with me. I find her clothes in the laundry basket, her favourite TV shows set up to record. The bedsheets, however clean and fresh, still carry a whiff of her perfume and shampoo. I find her favourite brand of gum stashed in the driver's door of my car, the seat pulled all the way forward, the radio tuned into a station that plays nothing but old school R'n'B.

I forget that she technically still has her own apartment. Not that she stays there often. In the last six months, I could count on one hand the time she's spent there. Her mention of going back there in a few weeks was a stark reminder that none of this is official. I've wanted to broach the subject of her moving in with me permanently for a while now, but for one reason or another, the words don't come. I hesitate. I bite my tongue and push the thought away.

Why?

I told her at the beginning that she was more than welcome to move in with me. I wonder if I should have made it clearer, been more insistent on this becoming official rather than the weird no-mans-land we seemed to have found ourselves in. But at the time, the fact that she was even willing to consider opting for a career path that would allow us to do that just that eventually was enough. It was a big, scary step for the pair of us and neither of us wanted to rush it.

Siobhan comes back out of the bathroom, her face bare, her hair pulled up into a messy knot. She rubs her face with a yawn before tugging out a clean shirt from her suitcase.

“Why bother?” I mumble as I stand and stretch. “Only gonna take it off you in a few minutes.”

She grins. “A few minutes huh? You mean I could actually get into bed before you start pawing at me?”

“Funny.” I squeeze her waist as I pass to the bathroom.

When I return, she's curled up against the pillows, thumbing through her phone.

“That better not be work,” I frown as I remove my shirt and pants.

She twists her hand, giving me a glimpse of her screen. “It's not. I was texting Lex.”

“Surely she'll be a little preoccupied to reply,” I chuckle as I join her in bed.

“Probably. Roman could never keep his hands to himself around her before. Now that she's carrying their baby, he can't help himself.”

“I don't blame him,” I murmur as I curl around her.

“What do you mean by that?”

I yawn, my mind drifting. “If that was you, I'd be the same.”

She stiffens slightly and I silently curse.

“You... You think about stuff like that?” she says slowly, shifting in my arms so she can turn to look at me.

“I...” Fuck.

“Seth...”

“Not really. I just...” That look on her face.

“Not really?”

Her expression is unreadable and I have no idea what to say. I honestly haven't thought about that. It was just an observation, a recognition of how much this pregnancy obviously means to both Lex and Roman, not an implicit hint that one day I want to have the same with Siobhan. I mean, it would be great, but fuck. Not yet.

“I just meant,” I clear my throat. “That if that was me and you, I would think that I would be inclined to do the same. Not that I have thought about that.”

Christ, this sounds just as bad as it did in my head.

“Sounds to me like you have thought about it.”

“I haven't!”

“It's okay, y'know.”

“What is?”

“To think about that. If you want to...” she trails off.

I eye her carefully. “Do you think about that kind of stuff?”

She drops her gaze. “Seth, we don't even live together.”

“You stuff all over my apartment suggest otherwise.”

“I mean officially.”

“Then we can make it official.”

My words are met by silence. I brush the hair back from her cheek, my fingers slipping to under her chin and raising her head so I can meet her eyes.

“I'm serious, Siobhan. You spend most of your time at mine as it is. You've been back to your apartment a handful of times since our anniversary. Sure, it was rough to start with, but we're managing, right? We're making it work, aren't we?”

She gives me the smallest of nods. “I guess.”

“So what's stopping us?” I gently nudge, my heart pounding as she wets her lips.

“Me.”

I swallow hard. “What do you mean?”

“I... I'm scared, Seth.” Her voice is barely a whisper. “What if I fuck up again? What if it's more serious this time? What if you don't want me anymore?”

My arms grip her tightly as I pull her against me under the sheets. “Firstly, that's never going to happen–”

“It might.”

“It won't.”

“Seth–”

“No,” my voice is firm. “Listen to me, Siobhan. I love you. I want to be with you. I want you to move in with me. I want it to be our apartment, not mine.” I take a deep breath. “I want you there. With me.”

Her eyes are wide, unsure.

“I'm serious, sweetheart. I fucking hate being there without you,” I continue. “And I get that it's a big move, I really do. But maybe it's time we did it and see what happens.”

“And what is going to happen?” she murmurs. “With us? We move in together and that goes okay. Then what?”

I shrug. “Whatever you want.”

“I'm selfish, Seth.”

“That makes two of us,” I grin down at her.

“I... I don't know if I want what Lex and Roman have.”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

“A baby.” She stares up at me, her eyes starting to glisten. “I don't know. I don't know if I want that or not. I look at them and I think that's amazing and a little part of me thinks that maybe, one day... But then I think about what that means and it's too much. But... But if that's what you want, then I don't want to stop you. I don't want you to wait on me to change my mind if that's not going to happen. Because I don't know if I will decide.”

“Hey...” I cup her face, my thumbs brushing over her cheeks. “I'm not asking you for anything other than to move in with me.”

“But–”

I brush my lips across her forehead. “I just want to be with you, Siobhan. I just want it to be you and me. If that changes in the future, then we cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“And if it doesn't?” she mumbles against me.

“Then it'll just be me and you forever.”

“I can't let you do that, not if that's–”

“Ssh.” I nuzzle the top of her head. “All I want is you. Nothing more.”

“I'm not saying no.”

“To what?”

“Everything,” she whispers.

I ease her back to meet her gaze once again. “So you'll move in with me?”

“Yes...”

“That's all I wanted, sweetheart. Everything else can wait.”

“Everything else?”

I smile softly, cupping the back of her head as I lower my mouth to hers. “I love you, Siobhan. Maybe one day I'll show you just how much.”

“You already do,” she breathes against my lips as I seek out her hand.

Drawing back, I raise her hand to my lips, brushing against the tip of her finger and then the knuckle, followed by the base as I hold her gaze.

“One day,” I promise her.

---

Part 2 with Dean/Becca incoming...

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