#chapter thirty nine

[isabellafoster13]

WARNING: TALK OF CHARACTER DEATH!

Chapter Thirty-Nine: That's Not How You Heal from Grief

Lucy looked up to find Rufus standing in front of her, smiling down as he waited for her answer. She nodded, mustering a small smile as she did so, and watched him sit next to her. "Here to convince me to side with you?" She questioned her friend quietly. 

Rufus chuckled before answering, "no, not at all. I know that it won't do much besides stress you out more." 

Lucy hugged herself and looked at him. "Why are you here then?" 

Rufus stared out in front of himself, observing something that wasn't there. "Just wanted to provide you with some company, and make sure you return to the hotel safely." 

"What are Freed and Midnight doing?" 

"Getting all of us food." 

Lucy nodded before returning her gaze to her lap. She felt uncomfortable. Why did she feel uncomfortable? Maybe it was because of the argument she had witnessed just a few hours ago, the final decision weighing upon her. Maybe it was because of the memories of Aquarius that were resurfacing again, making her miss her first friend more than she had before. Or, maybe she just didn't want company at the moment, not even from a good friend. She didn't voice this to Rufus, though, preferring to simply accept his company and push down the uncomfortable feeling she was experiencing. 

A few moments of silence passed before Rufus spoke, his tone soft, "I didn't mean to place a lot of pressure on you." 

Lucy shrugged her shoulders. "It wasn't you or the others who placed pressure on me, it's the weight of the decision itself. This is such an important mission, and really any decision can put its success in jeopardy." 

Rufus nodded, his gaze falling to the ground. "I understand. This is a lot for one person to take on." He then looked at Lucy, drawing her attention. She was a bit comforted by his small smile.  "However, you must remember that you are a member of Fairy Tail. You and your guildmates have accomplished many things, and overcome many obstacles. You defeated the Oracion Seis, Grimoire Heart, Tartaros, and have done many more impressive and seemingly impossible things. If anyone can save the Celestial Spirit World, it's you, Lucy." 

Lucy felt her cheeks warm a little at his words. She moved her head so that her face was angled away from his sight, hoping that she hadn't noticed her blush. A small smile crept upon her face as she spoke, "thanks, Rufus. That actually helped a bit." That was the truth. His words really did make her feel better, if a little bit. 

A short period of silence passed again before Lucy hesitantly asked, "did Nyx really let you go?" 

Rufus nodded. "He came down and told me that you, Freed, and Midnight were there to rescue me. He said that he had to go with Terra and Lust, but he would try to find us. Then, he gave me the book and left." 

Lucy nodded. She chewed down on her bottom lip as she thought to herself. From what Rufus had said when the question of whether they should trust Nyx or not came up, she couldn't get out of her head just how much Rufus seemed to be convinced that Nyx really did want to help them. Rufus was a smart man, one of the smartest members of Sabortooth. If he didn't see any indication of Nyx lying, or if he is so sure that they should trust Nyx, then maybe Nyx was being genuine. Then again, Freed and Midnight were very smart themselves, and not easily fooled, even though Rufus isn't either. However, neither of them spoke with Nyx. 

Lucy rubbed her temples with her fingers. She could feel a headache coming on already. She dropped her hands into her lap. She looked over at Rufus, observing how he seemed to be staring off into space, lost in thought. As she observed him, her eyes ended up landing on his red and gold mask. Now that she thought about it, she couldn't remember having ever seen Rufus' face without it. 

She remembered having asked Yukino and Sorano if they had seen his face without his mask: 

Yukino and Sorano looked at Lucy with widened eyes. The three young women were sitting at one of the tables in the Fairy Tail guildhall. Sabertooth had come by for a visit, resulting in a few fights and some lighthearted competitions. Lucy sat across from her two friends, sipping on her favorite flavor of milkshake. 

She looked at the surprised expressions on the sisters' faces, eyebrow raised. "What? It's just a question." 

The pair of sisters were silent for a few more moments before grins broke onto their faces. Lucy paled a little and her lifted eyebrow fell. She knew, right at that moment, she had made a mistake. 

"Why do you want to know?" Yukino questioned, her tone teasing. 

Lucy felt her cheeks warm a little and she exclaimed, "i-it's not like that! I was just wondering!" 

Sorano cooed, "are you sure you aren't interested in him?" 

Lucy's blush deepened. "N-no! Not all! I've never seen Rufus without his mask, so I was wondering what he looked like! And if there's a certain reason he wears his mask constantly!" 

Yukino and Sorano laughed, both taking great enjoyment out of their friend's embarrassment. Lucy could only drop her head onto the table, an attempt to hide her red face from anybody who may look over. 

Once the sisters' laughter died, Sorano spoke, no longer teasing, "we've never really seen his face either. We also don't know why he always wears a mask." 

Lucy lifted her head to look at the pair as Yukino nodded, adding, "we've wondered the same thing, but we never asked...in case it's a sore spot." 

Lucy straightened in her seat and nodded in understanding. She looked back over at Rufus, who was talking to Levy. She understood Yukino and Sorano's reasoning, but she couldn't help but wonder, was there anything under Rufus' mask? She turned back to her friends and moved on to another topic. Maybe one day she'll be able to ask him herself. 

Lucy stared down at her still-bandaged hands in her lap, tears welling up in her eyes, a few of which slipped down her cheeks, as a result of the memory. She sniffled and wiped the tears away with the back of her hand. 

"Lucy, are you alright?" The man beside her asked. 

She looked over to see Rufus staring at her with worry in his green eyes. She took a breath and looked back down at her hands, answering, "just...just remembered a conversation I had with Yukino and Sorano." 

She looked back at him to see that he was nodding with understanding. Rufus then said, his voice low, "the same thing happened to me while I was in that basement." 

Lucy gave him a sad smile. "I'm not surprised that you haven't moved on yet. You might have been closer to both of them than I was." 

She watched as Rufus looked at the ground and sighed. "If I'm being honest, I was expecting to be over their deaths by now." 

Lucy's smile dropped at that. She hadn't expected him to say that. She furrowed her brow in confusion and questioned, "what do you mean?" 

Rufus was silent for several moments. Lucy fidgeted with her hands, being careful to not aggravate her still-healing, fingernail-less fingers. Worry swirled in her gut as she was about to ask him again when he finally spoke, "I just thought that I would have moved on by now." 

Lucy murmured, "I don't think it's even been two months." 

"And I was expecting to be over their deaths by now." Lucy gave a small flinch at his hard tone. Before she could even think of something to say, Rufus stood up, informing her, "it's getting late. Freed and Midnight will be worried if we don't get back soon." 

Lucy stood up as well and looked at the sky, just now realizing that the sun had disappeared, the moon now rising. It wasn't quite dark, but it would be long until it was. She watched as Rufus began walking away. She was still confused about what he had meant. She was also worried. Did he really think that two months was enough time to "get over" the deaths of two close friends? Moving on its own, her bandaged hand shot out to grasp Rufus' sleeve, stopping him, even though he didn't turn around to look at her. 

Lucy opened her mouth, but closed it when no words came out. What was she supposed to say? All she could do was stare at her friend's back, knowing that she had to say something, but not knowing what exactly she should say. 

Why did Rufus say that? Surely, he knew that grief was a lengthy process, oftentimes not even having an exact end. Now that she thought about it, she didn't think she had ever seen him show any amount of grief over Yukino's and Sorano's deaths. Never even heard about it. She at least heard from Erik that Midnight was devastated over Sorano's death. Was Rufus even grieving properly? Did he know how to? 

Rufus' low, solemn voice broke her out of her thoughts, "'time heals all wounds.' Isn't that the saying? I don't understand why it hasn't worked yet." 

Lucy was silent for a few more moments before she finally spoke, her voice far too weak for her liking, "that's not how you heal from grief." 

Rufus finally turned around to face her. She looked up at him, seeing that tears were brimming his green eyes. He asked, his voice just as weak as hers, "then how do I heal? I've never experienced a loss like this. How do I get over them? How do I stop this pain?" 

Lucy felt tears burn her eyes as she responded in a whisper, "not by repressing your emotions. Not by focusing on other things to keep yourself from thinking about them. Rufus, losing two close friends is not something you can simply move on from. It's not even something that you will completely recover from, probably. Forgoing the grieving process is not good, or healthy. You can't deny yourself the time to grieve your friends." 

She stepped closer to the man, slowly wrapping her arms around him so as to give him enough time to pull away if he didn't want a hug. When Rufus did not resist, she pulled him into a tight embrace, her tears now slipping down her cheeks. She felt her throat tighten and she sniffled a few times before she spoke again, her low voice strained, "I'll always be here for you, Rufus. You're my friend. I love you a lot. I don't want to see you hurt. You need to allow yourself to grieve properly. Only then will you start to truly heal." 

When Rufus was silent and didn't move for several moments, Lucy began to worry that she had done or said something wrong, crossed a line that she should have known not to cross. She was just about to pull away and attempt to correct her mistake, when she felt Rufus wrap his arms around her, pressing her body against his more as her buried his face into her hair. Lucy tightened her hold on him when she felt his body tremble, his shoulder shuddering occasionally. It didn't take her long to realize that he was crying. Finally crying for the friends he had lost. 

As Lucy's tears continued to fall and she struggled to hold herself together for her friend, she wondered to herself: wasn't she doing the same thing that Rufus had been? Or at least, wasn't that what she was attempting to do? When had she taken the time to properly cry and grieve for her dead friends? She had been so focused on her mission, and on trying to not fall apart from the memories and self-hatred that had been plaguing her. Was she a hypocrite, giving her friend advice that she, herself, was not able to follow? 

As Lucy's crying escalated to quiet sobs, burying her face into Rufus' chest. 

Lucy stepped into the hotel room, Rufus following close behind her. As soon as she took a few steps into the room, her shoulders were clutched in a tight hold, causing her to look up in surprise. Her brown eyes met sea-green ones and the owner of those eyes spoke, his voice heavy with a sort of mixture of worry and relief, "Lucy, where were you? I was about to go looking for you! Do you not realize what could have happened to you? It's not safe to be out at night, especially considering the current circumstances we've found ourselves in!" 

Lucy mustered a comforting smile as she placed one hand over Freed's mouth, silencing him. "I'm fine, Freed, I promise." 

"But-"

"I understand your worry, and I appreciate it, but I'm fine. I've returned. You don't need to worry anymore." 

She watched as Freed pursed his lips as he stared back at her, his eyebrows pinched together in still-present worry. After several seconds, he retracted his hands from her shoulders and stepped away, muttering an apology. She patted his shoulder before walking further into the room, stopping at the bed and sitting on it. 

She looked over at the other bed, seeing that Rufus was laying on it, on his back. He stared blankly up at the ceiling. A twinge of pain shot through her heart at the sight and the corners of her lips pulled down into a frown. Not wanting to make herself cry again by remembering what happened barely even an hour ago, she looked to the front of the room, seeing that Midnight was sitting at the table, which Freed stood beside. Both men were staring expectantly at her. 

Lucy raised an eyebrow. "What?" 

Midnight answered, "have you made a decision yet? We need to decide on something before we leave tomorrow so that we can properly plan our next steps." 

Lucy nodded and looked down at her lap. She had been dreading sharing her decision with Freed and Midnight, afraid that they would get angry with her. Knowing that she couldn't delay her announcement for much longer, she took a deep breath and raised her head. All eyes were on her, even Rufus', which she could already feel on her without needing to look at him. 

She took a few more moments to steel her nerves before speaking, "I've decided that we should give Nyx a chance." When Midnight and Freed both opened their mouths to speak, Lucy continued, "I don't think that we should trust, at least not yet. He has information on Terra, Lust, and their mission that we need. He can be very useful. We should give him a chance to prove he was being honest." 

Midnight and Freed were both silent for some time. The former leaned back in his seat, arms crossed over his chest as he stared at the drawn curtains in front of the window, while the latter leaned against the table that he stood next to, his arms also crossed over his chest as he stared at Lucy intently, as if analyzing her. 

Lucy had begun to shift uncomfortably when the silence was finally broken by Freed, "we can't change your mind, can we?" 

Lucy shook her head and stared back at him with what she hoped was a steadfast look on her face. A period of silence followed before Freed sighed, "alright, I may not like your decision, but I'll accept it nevertheless." 

Midnight nodded, his eyes still locked on the drawn curtains. "agreed." 

Lucy released a quiet breath of relief. She wasn't particularly confident in her decision, nor was she sure if it would end well for them, but she did know that she needed to know, not only the extent of what Starfall was, but who exactly Terra, Lust, and Nyx were. She had to know who they were and why they were doing any of this. She had questions, and she needed answers. She just wished that the only source of these answers wasn't the man who had tortured her. 

[thetimetraveler24]

Awww no. Percy never had Paul as a teacher! There goes all the fics where Percy has English with Paul. I wanted those to be true!

Chiron and Paul are best friends confirmed. He’s subbing for Paul omg I love it.

Nooooo, Percy eats fish! I actually can’t remember if I adopted the Percy finds eating fish weird hc or not…

SALLY OMG!!! 🤣 Not Sally telling Percy he should have picked up some lingerie for her oh my god Rick what were you smoking?

Okay okay. So that’s the end. If anyone read this, hope you enjoyed my comments.

Now go read the book!!!

HEAVENLY ADULTERER!!! I’m SCREAMING 😂

[renee-writer]

Out of Time Chapter One Hundred and Thirty -nine

AO3

Ian and Jenny don’t get much. They spend the majority of the night getting re-acquainted. Asha and Danny, freed to be a couple, do the same.  Claire and Jamie do sleep deeply for the first time in awhile.

 

Ian and Jamie meet at the fallen barn the next morning.

 

“It is amazing to see you again.” Jamie says after hugging him close.

 

“Aye, you too. I thought,” he touches the old barn door, leaning crooked against the side of it. It is a way to steady himself, “my family gone forever. I stayed here under the vague hope that maybe…” he shakes away the willies, “now you are here, my wife and children!” A smile spreads across his face, “ the past doesn’t matter.”

 

“Daniel? You are okay with her having a bairn with another man?” He said he was, but?

 

“Aye. I understand. In these times, not knowing that I lived, well I guess I didn’t for awhile, a hard thing to wrap my head about,” a shake of his head,” anyway, she did as she had to do. We need babies. An amazing thing. You yourself having two, Murtagh having one. I never saw…”

 

“Aye, he has two actually. He claims young Alex as his own.” They both nod. “as I did Juliaellen before she really was mine. Hard to wrap heads around, indeed.”

 

“You and Claire, it is more then just repopulating the earth.”

 

Jamie nods. “Much more. I love her deeply. She loves me as well. I believe that our Murtagh is fallen in love with Mary. A grand thing as he is all ready there with his children.”

 

“Aye, I never expected to see it but am glad to. My question, which of the man is responsible for Charlie?”

 

“Not a man, a boy. Young William. In the midst of the fear and doubt, they sought comfort and found…” They both sigh.

 

“Poor lad. How old is he?”

 

“Eleven now.”

 

They ponder this in silence as they start to walk around the property.

 

“I kept it up as I could. Wasn’t sure if it would only be me or… well, I was praying someone would join me. It is a miracle that it is you.”

 

“We have many hands now. Men and women who are eager to be about something productive.”

 

“There is plenty of work.”

 

They meet up with the others and start to plan.

[s4sharkteeth]

I agree Charlie, you should’ve been invited 😔✋

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[yutarot]

IN PERFECT SYNC [j.jh smau]

genres: humour, friends to enemies to lovers, secret relationship, forced proximity, college au, dancer au, hiphopdancer!jaehyun, fboy!jaehyun, balletdancer!yn

synopsis: your dance college wasn’t the easiest to get in to, let alone was it easy to stay. so what happens when your college decides they need to cut two of the dance teams from competing ever again, the ballet team and the hiphop team. will both teams get along in order to solve their connected issue, or will they fight to get their own team back to competing again? only you and hiphop dance team captain, jeong jaehyun, can decide your teams fates. but there’s one problem, you hate eachother.

WARNINGS: mention of drugs/alcohol, language, jokes about sex, mention of injury, some usage of ballet terminology, lots of extensive lore?, angst, lots of angst, slowburn as fuck obviously, major character betrayal, lots of lying, i mean LOTS of lying, jaehyun is an asshole for like 50% of this, the plot gets v messy and confusing but i live for that so

DISCLAIMER: all portrayals of people are fake and from my imagination, in no way am i claiming that they act like this irl.

written wc: 8.8k

STATUS: complete! — 09.03.24 - 10.02.24

TAGLIST - OPEN!

MASTERLIST

[profiles one] || [profiles two]

[one — jungwoos scared of girls]

[two — that can’t be good]

[three — well that sucks]

[four — he’s stalking you]

[five — we were just friends]

[six — the man he was] half written

[seven — i need to talk to you]

[eight — i’ve waited so long]

[nine — roses]

[ten — im over you]

[eleven — ur over me?]

[twelve — betrayal] written chapter

[thirteen — dimples]

[fourteen — conflict] written chapter

[fifteen — i never knew]

[sixteen — you’re welcome, btw]

[seventeen — she deserves to know]

[eighteen — it was me.] written chapter

[nineteen — hey guys…]

[twenty — collab of the century]

[twenty-one — i’m happy he’s over u]

[twenty-two — i did it for you] written chapter

[twenty-three — no one knows except..]

[twenty-four — that same old dimpled smile] written chapter

[twenty-five — everything about you]

[twenty-six — however hard it may be.] half written

[twenty-six and a half — it’s finally happening]

[twenty-seven — they can wait]

[twenty-eight — ive nothing to fear] written chapter

[twenty-nine — they don’t know we know they know we know]

[thirty — in perfect sync.] written chapter

end.

replies, likes and reblogs are all greatly appreciated! feel free to send thoughts and requests in my asks: characters, scenes, chapters etc.

[slytherinslut0]

Mattheo Riddle-Beg For Me

In the hallowed halls of Hogwarts, you, a brilliant Ravenclaw scholar known for your unwavering dedication to academics, found yourself in an unexpected battle of wits with the notorious bad boy of Slytherin, Mattheo Riddle.

Assigned as his tutor, you clashed fiercely due to his reckless attitude, a sharp contrast to your meticulous, by-the-book approach to life. Despite his smart remarks and arrogant charm, you stood your ground, unfazed by his attempts to break your resolve.

However, one day, during a particularly tense tutoring session, Mattheo had finally had enough, and nothing was ever the same.

Can this secret, toxic situationship blossom into something more? Or will you two forever be secret enemies turned lovers, destined to crash and burn.

CHAPTERS->

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty One

Twenty Two

Twenty Three

Twenty Four

Twenty Five

Twenty Six

Twenty Seven

Twenty Eight

Twenty Nine

Thirty

Thank you to everyone who has followed along with this story so far. I’d never have dreamed it would be so popular, and that I’d meet some of the most amazing, supportive people ever while writing it. You all mean the world to me and I love you endlessly. Hopefully this makes it easier to find all the chapters:) xoxo

🩵Find my master list here.

[januaryembrs]

MY BABY, HERE ON EARTH | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [BONUS]

Description: the NINE months of pregnancy

Word count: 10.9k

warnings: pregnancy duh, babies, giving birth, c-section, ummm body fluids? lots of emotions, nausea & sickness, talks of weight gain and stretch marks.

authors note: y'all... there you have it. I will be back to finish their story but until then this is my goodbye piece until I have finished my hiatus to write my own book and start uni (again). I can't wait to take these two (three) on the final lap they deserve but for now.. I hope you enjoy pookies being pookies.

previous chapter | series masterlist |next chapter

MONTH ONE. The one where she finds out.

She hadn’t meant to find out when she did. It had been just a routine implant swap that she’d had twice already in the last six years. 

“Any blood clotting, any pain at all?” The nurse asked, jotting down a few notes on her form as she sat back on the bed and waiting for the numbing cream to take hold. 

She shook her head. “It’s weird as hell to feel and when I think about it too long it freaks me out, but no, no pain,” She said and the nurse chuckled, nudging her glasses up her nose.

“And finally, is there any chance that you’re pregnant?” She asked, no doubt having rehearsed the same script about thirty times that day alone.

Bugsy gave her a flat smile, “Small chance, but I guess that’s what this is for, huh?” 

The nurse looked at her then, as if mulling over the words before she said something, “Small chance?”

“I mean, nothing is a hundred percent effective,” Bugsy tried to weasel her way out of the awkward conversation, because she had absolutely no intention of letting the nurse know her and Spencer had been at it like bunnies since the Hotch had forced them to take medical leave. Who knew having so much time on her hands with her very handsome boyfriend would have that effect? 

The nurse pursed her lips, and already the woman felt like she’d said too much. 

“Alright, we’re going to do a routine test, just need a quick urine sample,” Bugsy felt her cheeks heat, though she was in no position to argue. Her discomfort must have been more obvious than she thought, however, as the nurse went on to explain, “If I give you this implant and there’s a fertilised egg, it can lead to ectopic pregnancy, in which case you’ll need surgery. Trust me, honey, peeing in a cup is your easy option,” 

She gave the practitioner a small nod, wondering if she needed to message Spencer to say she’d be running a little late. She knew he was likely doing the sudoku in the waiting room magazine, since he’d refused to let her come alone. And even though she’d told him she would be fine on her own, he’d seen through it, had even offered to get her ice cream on the way home for putting on a brave face. 

And yet her face was nothing short of horror struck not even half an hour later when the nurse showed her the stick with empathetic eyes. 

“Congratulations,” The woman said cautiously, a fake smile plastered on her face as the girl stared at her, utterly gobsmacked. 

“But, I thought…” Bugsy stammered, running a finger over where the nurse had removed her implant, “But I had everything ready, I never let it get late, I did what I was supposed to,” 

“You said it yourself, honey, nothing is a hundred percent effective besides abstinence-” 

“That’s just what parents say to make sure their kids aren’t banging every Tom, Dick and Harry out there!” Bugsy was near screeching, the worry in her tone clear as a bell and her chest hot with panic. 

Pregnant. She was pregnant, there was no way she could be…

Except there was exactly a way she could be, seeing as she struggled even on a dry spell to keep her hands off Spencer longer than a few days at a time. And he was just as bad.

The nurse huffed, rifling through her drawers for a handful of pamphlets. She passed them to Bugsy whose mouth was still bobbing with more expletives she held herself back from saying, and it wasn’t until she saw the happy couple on the front of the first one, holding a very swollen and round bump that she thought she might be sick. 

Comical timing, she hissed at herself. 

“There are always options, sweetheart. Abortion is legal in Virginia, if that is what you decide, however there is always information and support that we recommend looking into before you make a solid decision,” Her response was professional even though her expression was compassionate, and Bugsy knew she must have looked scared because that was exactly how she felt and she had little to no room to hide it. 

Abortion? Is that what she wanted? Except it wasn’t just about what she wanted, it was what Spencer wanted too. Even if he would argue against that being the case in a heartbeat, even if he would tell her she had every right to be the only one to make a decision, no matter what he thought. But maybe it wasn’t so much about needing his opinion for that reason, and more it was because she had absolutely no clue what to do and Spencer was always good at making sense of the things she didn’t know how to deal with. 

She nodded silently, her mouth dry as sandpaper as she took the leaflets and stuffed them in the bottom of her purse where she hoped Spencer wouldn’t go looking. 

She barely remembered standing on liquid legs, barely remembered the way her chest felt tight and her head spun as she thought of the fact her body had a baby growing inside it. 

No, it wasn’t a baby. Not yet. It was likely the size of a grain of sand, miniscule. That wasn’t a baby, that was nothing. 

But it would be. Eventually. It would be hers and Spencer’s baby.

And she wanted to tell him, wanted to tell him the second she saw him there in the waiting room, his head shooting up the second the door opened and she left looking a little ill and shaken. 

“All done? Everything go as normal?”  He preened, standing immediately as she neared him, his hand immediately weaving around her shoulder to pull her close by. Gently, ofcourse, because she had a big, fat bandage where her implant should have been. 

“Y-yeah,” She stammered, hoping he didn’t hear the shake in her throat. Yet she knew immediately that he did. Because he leaned in to give her a delicate kiss to her forehead not even a moment later, “C-can we go straight home, I’m not feeling ice cream anymore,” 

He looked worried, as anyone who knew her would because Bugsy turning down free pudding was a blaring red siren in his eyes.

“Yeah, sure,” He said, stroking a gentle hand over the side of her head and leading her where he’d parked the car. 

And it was that worry, the same cloud that hung over him for months with Scratch and his mom and the Dirty Dozen and everything else that was put onto his shoulder that made her shut her mouth right then and there. He didn’t need one other thing to contend with, not when he was already carrying the weight of the world. 

And so she wouldn’t tell him. Not yet at least.

MONTH TWO. The one with the scan.

“Spence, would you stop worrying, I’m sure everything will be fine,” She urged in the gentlest tone she could muster. Yet she was a hypocrite, because she felt her hands shaking as she sat in the chair, trying to adjust her sleeves for something to do and Spencer stopped his leg from bouncing. 

Looking over at her, he sighed, holding out a large palm and weaving her fingers in between his and she flicked a look over at him, her own eyes nervous. 

“I’m sorry,” He gave her a guilty smile, “If it helps, it’s half excitement too,”

And she smiled then, shaking her head as he squeezed her hand gently. 

“Me too,” She confessed, looking down at her stomach that didn’t seem all too different than usual. She’d felt a few symptoms up until this point, a bit of nausea but that was nothing she couldn’t handle, headaches here and there. But it wasn’t anything exactly life changing that she’d expected when she’d always thought of pregnancy. 

If anything, none of it felt real quite just yet. Having only been a few weeks since she’d told Spencer, they’d spent the majority of the time searching for houses and appointments and gynaecologists and neonatal care, and whenever they were free, they were trying to get used to the idea of the two of them as parents.

“Did you know they’re around half an inch long by now,” Spencer said, his hazel eyes falling to where her shirt hid her stomach that had yet to change no matter how many times he stared at it, “About a third of that is made up of their head,”

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” She shrugged, stroking her thumb along the edge of his pinky finger, “It’s your kid, they’re going to have biggest brain out there,” 

He snickered, lifting her hand to press a kiss to the back of it softly, “If they have even half your brains, we’re going to be raising the next Galileo,” 

“Mr and Mrs Reid,” Their heads shot up at the midwife, Bugsy fumbling for words to correct him as the two of them stood up to greet him with bashful smiles. She didn’t need to look at Spencer’s face to know he’d gone bright red. 

“It’s uh, Prentiss-Reid,” Spencer spluttered as they entered and the nurse looked again at his chart with wide eyes, his cheeks a little pink himself and he ushered the two of them into his office with a smile. 

“So it is, I do apologise,” He said earnestly, holding a hand out to gesture Bugsy to sit on the reclining bed, “I hate to stereotype, but usually when dad books the appointments, its because their wives are already doing a hundred other things,” 

“It’s okay, it happens,” She said with an awkward chuckle, avoiding Spencer’s eyes because they still hadn’t had that talk. Even though she knew her mother would frown at her grandchild being born a bastard, she didn’t care much for Elizabeth’s opinion. It wasn’t like marriages had ever led to good things for her mother anyway. 

She hopped up onto the examination cot, her heart quivering just the slightest in worry because the smell of bleach and rubber made the whole thing real. Until then, having a grain of rice growing inside her seemed like a fever dream since she’d only had a handful of side effects, throwing up could have easily been passed off as bad chicken, the head aches could have just been her eyes straining from using her computer too much. 

“Okay, everything feels okay, Mom? Nothing concerning at all?” And then the midwife said things like that, mom, and the part of her that almost forgot she was pregnant came to a screeching halt. 

She’d be a mom. Someone would call her mom. The thought of it made her suck in a breath.

“Uh, no.” She cleared her throat and felt Spencer grab her hand, “Morning sickness is kicking my ass, but nothing worrying,”

The nurse chuckled, and she felt Spencer rubbing his thumb over the back of her palm, his eyes burning into the side of her head. 

“Well, if it’s alright, I need you to lift your shirt up a little so we can have a see what’s going on,” He said with a kind smile, and she realised then he’d slipped latex gloves over his hands, and brandished a bottle of gel. 

She nodded absently, doing as he said and lifting her shirt to sit under her breasts, drawing the hem of her skirt down so he had a space to apply. And the second he did she sucked in breath through her nose, the cold of the air conditioning chilling her to her marrow, and she tried telling herself that’s why her hands were shaking. 

She felt Spencer’s fingers curve through her hair, and she reminded herself to breathe, looking over at him with nervous eyes she hoped he didn’t see straight through. But judging by the way he scooted the chair forward and gave her an encouraging smile, she guessed he’d seen the flicker of doubt in an instant. 

“It’s okay, it’s going to be fine,” He murmured, his own fear buried deep somewhere she couldn’t see anymore the second she had been the one to look to him for help. She knew she wanted this, knew she’d always dreamed of Spencer and her having their happily ever after. She knew whenever she’d let herself think of a little boy with chocolate curls and hazel eyes that she wanted all of that and more. 

But it was all so… real. Like seeing a movie come to life, and she was starring centre stage. Her body wasn’t a disposable shell that held thirty plus years of stupid mistakes and regrets and tattoos she’d decided she hated now. Her body had a whole other human inside it. 

The midwife clicked the machine on, the transducer wand ready in his hand as he gently put it on her lower stomach, barely a few centimetres from her panties, and she wondered why they showed the wand roaming over the woman’s belly button on tv shows since that was entirely wrong and not nearly as embarrassing. She let out a shaky breath, and Spencer stroked her head again, forcing her to give him an unsure look, like she was trying to calm herself for his sake but couldn’t.

His eyes were anxious though he squeezed her again with a smile and she saw it immediately, like he too was trying to be brave for her. 

She had never loved him so much. 

“Apologies for the shock, I know the gel can be a little cold,” The nurse said with a grin, and it was only then she realised the screen had lit up with a black and white image, one she’d seen a thousand times when she’d studied neonatal procedures for her degree. 

She knew that was her womb lining, and that was the amniotic fluid and that right there-

Bugsy froze, and judging by the way Spencer’s hand tightened around her own, he had too. She felt her mouth drop with a laugh of shock, and she sat up slightly to take a closer look at the monitor. 

“And there is baby,” The midwife said, his expression warming as he watched Spencer’s stand up to lean over the bed, not once letting go of the woman’s hand, the two of them utterly enraptured in the screen, “Probably about the size of a raspberry,”

And Bugsy laughed, her eyes lined with tears as she looked up at Spencer’s equally wetted hues. He was grinning from ear to ear when he looked down at her, and it wasn’t long before he brought his lips to her forehead, his nose and throat burning with a held cry. 

“Do you hear that? A whole raspberry already?” She said, her voice wobbling and he giggled, sitting back in his seat and rubbing his cheeks with his sleeve. “I am good at this cooking thing, might as well call me an easy bake oven,”

Spencer shook his head with another chuckle, his eyes trailing back to the little blob on the screen that looked more like a toy alien than anything else, and held her hand between both of his like he was in prayer. 

Because Spencer never believed in anything sacred and divine until he met Bugsy.

MONTH THREE. The one where they tell everyone.

“What are you doing?” Bugsy jumped out of her skin as JJ all but materialised behind her. She looked over her shoulder guiltily, her hand still half way through pouring out her mug of coffee Derek had handed her before he left to get lunch. 

She turned to see the blonde with her own steaming mug of decaf in her hands. She’d been taking the lack of caffeine much better this time around since having a second baby to breastfeed, considering she was nothing short of evil when she’d had Henry, which had been Spencer’s words not Bugsy’s. And it wasn’t as if the woman could blame her. She was grouchy when she didn’t get her regular dose even before being pregnancy, Derek had once gotten a kick to the shin when he’d disturbed her on a day she’d been too busy to grab one on her way to the office. 

She was a fiend for the bitter god. And everyone knew it. Which was exactly why JJ’s eyebrows were all but raised into her hairline seeing the girl who would usually be in the stages of withdrawal by now tipping the drink away. 

“Uh, the milk tasted funky,” She excused, though the way JJ narrowed her eyes at the poor excuse told her it hadn’t passed by a mile. 

“Right, the milk that Hotch picked up this morning?” JJ pursed her lips, sliding her own mug onto the side and jutting her hip. 

And as if he were summoned, Hotch sidled up to the kitchenette, Rossi and Tara hot on his heels as they flicked through some paperwork, and his head shot up the minute he heard his name. 

His eyes trailed to where the girl flipped her mug upside on the drying rack, and his brow furrowed. 

“Is everything alright?” He asked, and she huffed in response, wiping her hands on her jeans. 

“Yes, I’m fine,” She grumbled, shaking her head, “I don’t know what you’re all so wound up about, it’s not like I’m dying, I just don’t feel like coffee today-”

“Oh my god,” Penelope gasped where she crept behind Hotch with her very favourite octopus mug in tow, one that was nearly thrown to the floor when she heard the words pour from the girl’s mouth, “Are you sick? Like in the body or in the head? Rossi, check her pulse, I’m going to get a thermometer-”

“Pen, I’m fine,” She said unconvincingly and she tried to skirt past the group that seemed to have her surrounded. Seeing Spencer pulling up the rear in search of lunch she felt herself sigh in relief, because he would think of a much better excuse than she ever could. 

She had barely been able to keep her mouth shut for the months they had been secretly dating, and had relished in the peace it brought her when everyone knew. But the midwife had said it was common to keep things under wraps at least until the first trimester was over. Apparently the million of questions that were sure to be heading their way would cause her unnecessary stress, though she’d argue having to sneak to the sink every morning and dispose of a delicious looking coffee was torture enough. 

“What’s up?” Spencer asked as she ducked towards him, his hand consciously wrapping around her waist, and she huffed again, looking to him with a silent plea.

“They’re profiling me,” Bugsy said, and he felt his gut knot because he should have known it wouldn’t be long before they caught on. It was their job to pick apart out of the ordinary behaviour, and Bugsy going teetotal on caffeine was definitely something of a head turner.

“I told you that diet would cause a stir,” He joked, hoping they bought his pathetic attempt of an excuse, as he gave her side a gentle squeeze, and hoped that he could lead her back to her desk like she was a lost little lamb being prowled upon by nosy wolves that rarely took no for an answer. 

And it almost worked, almost, until JJ snapped her fingers and pointed at his wandering hand. 

“See that, that is the fourth time you’ve been all touchy and weird this week,” The blonde surprised, her brows furrowing, “Bugsy hates PDA, usually by now she would have whacked you over the head and called you a perv,”

Bugsy smashed her lips together because she couldn’t exactly disagree with her. That’s exactly what she usually did. Usually would tell Spencer to stop being so horny in a place of work even if she felt her cheeks heat at the delicate grabs of her stomach fat. 

But whether it was the little bean now around the size of a small lemon that had made her mellow and affectionate, or whether the lack of caffeine really was making her feel vulnerable, she wasn’t sure. And the whole thing was only made worse by Hotch’s eyes burning into the side of her, and she felt the trail of his gaze head straight for her stomach. 

“Come to think of it, I only saw you with a lime and soda at Savannah’s birthday last week,” Rossi pointed out, wagging his finger in her direction, his brown hues widening in thought, “When Penelope asked if you wanted tequila you said-”

“I’m all tequila-ed out,” Penelope chimed in with the same frown, “But that can’t be, when have you ever been tequila-ed out, that’s like impossible, even that night we had to help Spencer get you in the shower because you’d thrown up everywhere you were demanding more,”

She felt her cheeks heat thinking about her twenty ninth birthday, or atleast the parts of it she could remember of it before the rest of the gaps were filled with black spaces of time that she guessed had been robbed from her by the shots she piled on. 

“Maybe I just didn’t feel like tequila, can a girl not live in the moment?” She tried to rebuttal, only Penelope gave her a blank look that told her to try again because the Bugsy she knew would slap her for saying something so dumb. She opened her mouth to correct her again, but Hotch beat her to it. 

“You know Hayley got really affectionate a couple months into being pregnant,” The man said, his eyes swirling with something proud and warm when he saw Bugsy’s head flick to him like she’d been caught red handed, which they had. “Though, if you ask me I think she was just a little sorry for herself that I took the coffee away,”

There was a beat of silence, and the room held its breath. Even Tara, who had only known them the best part of a few months raised her hand to her mouth in shock, and Bugsy shot a look at Spencer in utter defeat. 

“We tried,” She said with her shoulders shrugging, and it was then that the office was filled with a piercing scream that turned a fair few heads and the infamous octopus mug was thrown clear across the kitchen floor, one of his tentacles snapping clean off. 

“OH MY GOD, IT’S TRUE? YOU’RE PREGNANT?” Penelope wailed like a banshee, and Bugsy couldn’t help but break into a smile, nodding at the woman who screeched again and yanked her in for a tight hug, “Oh my god, there's going to be three of you, three geniuses, three little einsteins that I want to smush together and kiss all over-” 

“Garcia, I think she needs air if she’s going to make another little genius,” Rossi said, and the tech analyst pulled away aghast, cupping Bugsy’s face that was still grinning ear to ear with a chuckle.

“Oh my god, I didn’t hurt you did I? Or the baby- Oh my god there’s a baby in there!” 

Hotch wrapped a rare yet tender arm around Spencer’s shoulder, giving him a little pat and a “Congratulations” while Rossi smiled knowingly between the couple and JJ had her turn smothering Bugsy in a tearful hug. 

And by the time Derek had walked into the office with his everything bagel hanging between his teeth and a tea in his hands, his onyx hues fell to Penelope, JJ and Bugsy exchanging weepy words while Tara handed them tissues with her own sparkling eyes.

“What fresh hell did I miss?”

MONTH FOUR. The one where she starts looking different.

She huffed, her fingers gripping the edge of her jeans and yanking them up her thighs as far as they would go. She felt like everything had shrunk in the wash, or like she was trying on a doll’s wardrobe. Surely she hadn’t gained that much weight in just a few months, but then again she’d been all but living off chocolate pudding cups since the Bean decided it wanted sugar, sugar and more sugar. 

She grunted in annoyance, her arms and back aching where she was leaning over to pull at the infernal things. She barely had a second to pout childishly, before kind hands were wrapping around her stomach and a mouth kissed at her neck tenderly. 

“What’s wrong? Talk to me,” His voice was honey sweet, thick and goopy with love overflowing as he pulled her to his chest, his hand caressed the bump that seemed to be getting in the way of her and her favourite jeans. Spencer knew she tried to ignore the symptoms that almost every woman felt during pregnancy, he knew she compared herself to how JJ had handled both pregnancies gracefully and looked better than ever even as a mother of two. He knew she hated complaining because she didn’t want him to think she was miserable carrying their kid, but god was she getting sick of her clothes pinching her in.

“I’m getting fatter,” Bugsy grumbled, her eyes darting to the vivid lines that had deepened into the crease of her hips within a few weeks and she winced, “I’m not even halfway, how does this kid want to eat pudding all the time?” 

Spencer frowned, shaking his head slightly because he refrained from telling her what a silly statement it was, knowing it would only make her feel worse, and instead pressed delicate kisses to her jaw, squeezing her closer. He’d noticed the stretch marks, just as he’d noticed her face and hips gathering weight a bit more than usual, and was just grateful there was even more Bugsy to love. 

“You’re eating for two, you’re literally growing a whole life inside of you. I think that is more than enough grounds to eat whatever you want,” He murmured, biting the inside of his cheek when she sighed as though she didn’t believe him, “Honey, clothes are replaceable. What your body’s trying to do is create a little bubble around you and this little pudding fiend so you can feed them when they’re out here,” 

Bugsy knew he was right. She’d spent well over a hundred hours researching hormone levels and how pregnant bodies are changing all hours of the day to accommodate the foetus, she knew it was normal for things to look different. Had it been on anyone else she wouldn’t have batted an eye. But it didn’t make the sting of seeing her body morph into one she didn’t recognise any less harsh.

“I know,” She hummed somewhat defeated, turning in his arms to press her face in his neck, “I just didn’t expect it to happen so fast is all,”

Spencer smiled warmly, because every day he thought she had gotten impossibly prettier. He hadn’t believed in ‘pregnancy glow’, in fact he’d chalked it down to some sort of innate scientific survival tactic that associated a vulnerable woman with looking angelic, at least not until he’d woken up to see her stomach protruding from her pyjama top in a clear curve shape and he thought her face looked like she should be in some Monet painting, dozing in a field like a wide eyed doe. 

“I know, it’s a lot for anyone to go through. But you know I’m so grateful for you,” Spencer said, and he felt her smile without even seeing it. Her fingers wove into his hair at the nape of his neck, kissing a trail up his chest because he suspected she looked somewhat embarrassed. “Besides, I’m not complaining. It means I get to do this,” 

She felt two large hands grab at the fat of her bum cheeks and she squeaked in surprise, even though she heard him laugh in her ear at her reaction. That had been another thing she’d noticed, and how could she not. Penelope said just the other day that she was ‘baking a bun in the oven and cake in the trunk’ with a little wink, and she’d had to excuse herself quickly for lack of a response. 

And Spencer wasn’t lying. He wasn’t complaining with any of it, not by a long shot. 

MONTH FIVE.  The one with the mood swings.

“So you guys really don’t want to know the sex?” JJ asked, sipping on her tea as she chatted with Bugsy who was balancing biscuits on top of her now protruding stomach. It was as if overnight the baby had stretched out enough to make themselves a damn penthouse suite in Bugsy’s tummy. 

“We want it to be a surprise, either way we’re going to love the little bean, even if they do keep kicking my bladder at four am,” She said, balancing the tenth cookie on the tower she’d made, reaching over carefully for another one, “I swear if the bean kicks my cookie tower I’m giving them a hideous name,”

“It’s good to feel the baby kicking at this stage, it helps develop their joints and bones so they’re stronger when they’re born.” Spencer inputted helpfully as he slid a fresh mug of decaf tea over to her desk.

“Next time the baby kicks your uterus walls, Spence, gimme a shout and we’ll discuss how great it is,” Bugsy said with a small smile and he paused, looking at JJ as if he was caught in a trap, suddenly well aware of his mistake. 

“Point taken,” He conceded quietly, and JJ chuckled because she’d seen Will just as hesitant to piss her off in both of her pregnancies. And she knew Bugsy would never hold it against him, that Spencer’s head just ran away from him sometimes. 

She halted her little game and carefully leaned over to draw the mug to her lips, too impatient to wait for it to cool down fully and she barely spotted Derek swooping around the corner of the desk.

“Good morning, Mommies and Daddy Genius,” He greeted in that chirpy tone, his hand snatching up the top cookie and scarfing it down before she could protest. 

Bugsy shared her snacks all the time, it was a no brainer that they took a bite here and there out of each other's goodies before they could get a smack to the wrist. And Derek had certainly noticed a few of his Rolos missing the last time he bought a pack, and a particularly cheerful Bugsy smirking at him over her desk. 

It wasn’t a huge deal, and yet Bugsy sat up in a gasp, and the entire biscuit tower fell to a crumbling mess on the floor. 

“Well done, princess, Hotch is going to-” Derek stopped mid sentence when he saw her sniffle, and his eyes widened at the sight of her eyes glistening with tears, “Bugsy- are you okay-”

“My cookies! Derek!” She whined pitifully, and she buried her face in her hands, “My cookies, I was so going to eat the shit out of those, they were gonna be so good, Derek,” 

Morgan looked gobsmacked, his head whipping between the woman leaning against the desk with an understanding smile and Spencer who was already rubbing her shoulders with his lips smashed together, trying not to laugh. 

“Honey, it’s okay, he didn’t mean to,” Her partner tried to coo, though he couldn’t help but feel sorry for the way Derek scrambled to draw out his wallet. 

“I’ll get you more, Bug, I swear, they sell them by the deli down the street, right?” He asked, jittering in his bones because he’d never made her cry before. He worried or a moment Hotch might just put him on sabbatical leave for such an offense. Emily would probably fly to Virginia just to cave his skull in, “I’m sorry, I’ll go get more, I’ll even get you strawberry milk-”

“Chocolate milk,” She wailed, and JJ slid a box of tissues over to the pitiful girl with a silent snicker. She remembered all too well the feeling of unexplained emotion crashing over her, and she didn’t doubt that the tough faced Bugsy would be back to normal any moment soon.

“Chocolate milk, got it,” Derek said, with a nod, and he all but darted for the elevators, in a hurry Spencer somewhat suspected was down to the fact he feared for his life if Penelope got a whiff of what happened.

Bugsy sniffled for a moment, drawing a tissue out the box and dabbing her eyes sullenly, her feelings slightly worse for wear even if she had a small inkling of doubt that she was really so torn up about the cookies as her body made it seem. 

But she had been thinking about them all morning; made herself promise she would only eat them once she got the stack fifteen high at least. 

“Are you okay, baby?” Spencer asked, his gaze empathetic as she snuffled her sobs into the palm of her hands. He wasn’t too worried, even if he hated seeing her cry just as much as anyone else did. And it wasn’t that he didn’t take her seriously. But when she’d been crying just that morning because her shower gel spilled on the floor and tipped almost all the way out, or even when she’d stepped on a snail walking into the building and smushed it into the ground, effectively killing it, he seemed to be getting used to her mood swings. 

She sniffed woefully, “I was really looking forward to those, and now I think I was too mean to Derek and…” Her eyes glistened with fresh tears, and the sight of it made Spencer sigh, leaning forward to kiss the side of her head because it must be difficult being so out of your usual self for nine months. 

“And what?” He prompted softly. Only she burst out crying again, reaching forward to drag him into a hug that told him she was feeling extra sorry for herself.

He wouldn’t blame her. Would sit through every weep and sob and tantrum if it meant he got to show her even more times over that he loved her endlessly. 

However he did have to hold in the giggle when she wailed; “I think I really do want strawberry milk,” 

MONTH SIX. The one with the false labour. 

She had been in Hotch’s office when she felt it. 

Embarrassingly so, her first thought was trapped gas. She’d gotten a lot of that considering the baby had decided it craved spice, and had been planning to excuse herself when it felt like her whole abdomen seized as if she’d been hit with a particularly nasty period cramp. 

Her hand flew to her stomach where she sat with Hotch reviewing her latest reports, the same quarterly check the whole team was mandated to have with their boss since Cruz became section chief. Hotch didn’t miss a beat, the folder in his hand hitting the desk in an instant as he tensed, looking at her with caution. 

“Are you alright?” He asked, and she held her breath for a moment. Spencer was out with Rossi giving a lecture in Washington DC, JJ had the day off for her mom’s birthday, Penelope and Morgan were taking Tara to lunch to show her a few more of their regular spots. It was just them and Anderson in the office for the next few hours, possibly the worst time out of any to have an empty floor. 

“Yeah- I just, woah,” Her stomach gave another lurch of a painful twist and her hand slapped on the table to keep herself steady. She breathed through the pain, because she’d had much worse only that wasn’t what was making her heart race. It was fear. Because she wasn’t due for another twelve weeks at least, and while she’d heard of baby’s being born as premature as six months, she knew premy babies suffered major complications later on, let alone the stress their body goes under during the actual birth. 

Bean, as the team had affectionately named the baby since the couple had firmly decided they didn’t want to know the sex, was about the size of red cabbage, tiny in the scheme of things even though it felt like just a few minutes ago they were a grain of rice. 

“Okay, it’s okay, stay calm,” Hotch said in a smooth voice, gentle yet reassuring as he rounded his desk in a flash and put his hand on her shoulder, “Do you feel like you need to use the toilet? Any back ache or irritability?” 

Bugsy breathed out through her nose as her lungs jittered with nerves, “N-no, I don’t need the bathroom, why would that matter?” 

Aaron stroked a large kind hand down her spine, watching her face scrunch in pain for a second time, and he slowly began directing her towards the door, taking small steps so she wasn’t rushing. “Needing to use the bathroom is an early sign of labour, it’s your body's way of helping expand your pelvis to accommodate the head. Any back ache or frustration at all?” 

He didn’t care that he’d had to repeat himself, not even when he was usually so against it, because he could feel the own unease rising in his throat like bile even if he tried to keep his face as neutral as possible. 

He would be damned if he let her see how worried he was, and so he swallowed heavily, holding his other hand out for her to take when they approached the stairs. Anderson was on his feet in seconds when he saw his unit chief leading the woman with a tightly concealed frown, fumbling around for his phone. 

“Agent Prentiss?” He exclaimed, darting around the mess of chairs and paper and desks to approach them, “Would you like me to call Dr Reid? An ambulance, perhaps?” 

“She's alright, I’m driving her to the ER, thank you Anderson,” Aaron responded politely, his hand still resting on her back, and the agent nodded, digging around for his keys. 

“I can drive, if you’d like to ride in the back with her,” Grant offered with worried eyes as Bugsy’s face crumpled in agony again, and Hotch’s head whipped to her, and his composure crumbled for a moment. 

“Bugsy, hey, it’s okay, we’re gonna be okay, honey,” He cooed, and Anderson was quick to open the glass doors, “Did you pack a bag at all-”

“No, Spencer told me I should but I said it was too early, why is that man always right,” She grumbled, her footsteps weary and jittery as the three of them got into the elevator. 

Hotch fought a smile, trying to remember everything he’d memorised before Hailey had Jack. The 5-1-1 rule blared through his head, and he glanced at his watch for a fraction of a second, and he wondered for a moment if he was going to have to write off a company vehicle for the fact his youngest agent gave birth in the back seat. 

“I’m afraid that’s just how Reid operates,” Hotch said, pulling his phone out to dial the man in question and let him know where they were headed, “It’s probably nothing, Hailey was getting cramps all the time once she reached her third trimester, but we’ll get you checked out to be safe,” 

“Really?” She looked at him with pitiful eyes and he nodded with a tight smile, committing to his illusion of calmness even if he swore he hadn’t felt so scared in months. 

Because it wasn’t just Bugsy anymore, it was Bugsy and her baby. Her and Reid’s baby. The two people who deserved their happy ending more so than anyone else he knew. 

And he felt her hand slip into his then as she accepted his answer, in fact she didn’t let go the entire time she waited on Spencer and Aaron was in no rush to leave her side. Even when she lay back on the table and had the midwife checking everything over, he stayed by her head (no doubt to avoid a very awkward conversation), stroked her hair when she fretted through a few more cramps, even when Spencer burst in through the door with Morgan at his heels looking like the two of them had just ran a marathon.

“Is everything okay- what’s wrong- do you need fluids- do you need ice-” Spencer rushed on his odd breath, his chest puffing with inhales, and he pretended he wasn’t seeing stars floating across his vision. 

“I’m assuming by your reaction you’re dad,” The nurse said, pulling off the blue gloves and dropping her mask from her mouth.

“Yes, he is, he’s dad,” Morgan filled in for him as Spencer all but fell back against the wall, because he really should have drank something other than soda and coffee this morning. He was close to swaying on his feet when he stepped over to his girlfriend, and she took his hand in the her own, or atleast the one that wasn’t occupied by Hotch’s tight hold. 

“Don’t worry, everything is alright with mom and baby,” She said, noting down a few things on her chart and the four of them took an audible sigh of relief, “Braxton Hicks contractions are very common in your final trimester, it probably felt like a lot because your baby is moving to into the anterior position ready for birth,” 

Bugsy’s head flopped back against the pillow in comfort and she forced herself to take a few deep breaths, willing her heart rate to go back to normal. Braxton Hicks, she should have known. Her head had been fuzzy the past few weeks as it was, but she supposed the moment she’d thought there might be something wrong with the Bean, all of her logic had flown out the window. 

But at least she’d had Hotch to keep her level headed, and-

“Oh my god, Anderson,” She jolted up, her legs stuck in the stirrups the midwife had place her into while she examined everything, “We need to tell Anderson, the poor guy was so worried,”

Hotch chose not to tell her he’d seen Anderson go as white as a ghost the second she’d turned her back, and instead patted her leg as Spencer went to speak to the midwife a little more, no doubt picking apart every single symptom she’d presented in that huge, worried head of his. 

“Don’t worry, I’m sure Anderson is fine, honey,” He said earnestly, and she looked at him like a kicked puppy, entirely sorry for the panic she’d caused, “Let’s just get you your underwear back, huh?”

MONTH SEVEN. The one where they decorate the nursery.

“What about Elias,” 

“Veto,”

Bugsy pulled a shunned expression as she carefully rolled the wallpaper up the wall. 

“Mason? Niko, stop,” She proposed, one hand on the wall while using the other to push the nosey feline away from the wet paste she’d been brushing on the wall. 

He sat politely at her chide, blinking at her with those big eyes as he watched her work with a twitching tail, almost entertained at the woman who had ballooned up in just a few weeks struggling to do a relatively easy task. 

“Hmm, Mason can go on the bench,” Spencer responded where he was sitting at the other end of the wall doing the same thing only much faster, though she’d argue it was a little easier since he wasn't carrying a large coconut strapped to his stomach.

They’d left the apartment just two weeks ago. Derek had been the one to help them cart their small amount of furniture into the modest house on the outskirts of West Springfield. It was large by Spencer’s standards, even if Bugsy had seen what grandeur looked like in her own childhood homes, but it didn’t matter. Because walls and floors and fancy grand pianos had never bought her love. Yet the first evening they’d spent in their new home they had slept on a mattress on the floor, the list of things to do the following day rattling around their heads. But they had a home. They had the picket fence with the nice school down the road and the bus stop within eyesight of the kitchen where their kid would one day walk to their door with a book bag and glasses like Spencer’s. 

She had never felt like she belonged somewhere until she had a home with him. 

“What about Ada for a girl?” Spencer called over his shoulder, where he had almost caught up to where she was still working on the small patch of wall. The paper was proving frustrating for her swollen fingers, considering the entire thing, when put together, made up a mural of little woodland creatures amidst a forest and left zero room for error, “Named after Ada Lovelace, the woman who pioneered computers,”

Considering it for a moment, she nodded, “That’s pretty. Ada makes top ten,” 

Flipping the last part up to stick against the thick glue, she ran her hands over the seams to be sure it aligned perfectly with the rest of the picture. Satisfied when it matched and a little fox stared down at her, she smiled, tilting her head up where Spencer was standing over her, watching her concentrate. 

“All done!” She chirped, and he bent down to give her a kiss to her puckered lips, sliding a hand beneath her arm to help her up. 

“Looks perfect, you’re really carrying the team honey,” He mused as she got to her feet with a little whine, wrapping her arms around his middle in a proud hug. 

“I know, what would you ever do without me?” 

He laughed, looking at her with an adoring gaze.

The light cracked through the open window, laying over her face delicately. The house was still bare, still in need of carpets and a good dusting, still had leaky pipes and ants in the pantry. Yes, they had a pantry now. But it was a start. It was a home. 

“I say we leave the cradle for another day, baby is calling for frozen grapes again,” She said, rubbing a hand over her protruding belly button and he smiled. Spencer could have sworn he was the luckiest guy in the world when he called her his friend. He thought maybe he should have bought a lottery ticket the same day she told him she loved him. The day she became his girlfriend he thinks he may have died and the past three years have been purely a dream. 

But watching the breeze kiss her cheeks and stroke her hair, watching her eyes rove over the room that would keep their baby safe and warm in just a few weeks, even seeing her smile at him like he had handed her the whole universe in a box when she was the one growing a whole human inside her; Spencer felt like his life was so much better than he ever hoped it would be. 

“Frozen grapes, coming right up,” He said, slipping his fingers in between his to help her down the winding staircase which had been a winner for her immediately. It’s like we have a castle, Spence. “You or the baby could ask for a whole damn ox and I’d give it to you.”

She laughed, holding onto the bannister as they headed downstairs to the kitchen that was in dire need of fresh paint. 

“What if I said baby wants a holiday to Cancun and another cat,” 

“I’d say baby is onto something there,” Spencer said, sweeping her from the final step and giving her a wet kiss to her head, “But first, grapes.”

MONTH EIGHT. The one where she gets cranky.

“Oh my god,” She groaned as she threw herself into her wheely chair, her button up shirt barely accommodating her stomach that was well and truly ready to pop.  

Derek Morgan loved her, he truly loved her like she was one of his sisters, dare say he had loved her since that day he’d carried her out of the church she was held hostage in by Cyrus. He had seen her at her rock bottom, had seen her graduate with flying colours, had even put his job on the line for her; covered her back from a stupid mistake at a bar when she popped a little molly on government pay. 

Derek loved her. He did. But the moment he saw her slump into her chair, her face scrunched up in frustration, he was collecting his mug of coffee and all but bolting for the door and heading straight for Penelope’s lair. 

“Back pain again?” JJ asked, flitting past a very frantic Morgan and heading towards Rossi’s office with a stack of papers in her arms. Bugsy let out something close to a growl in return, and JJ took it as a yes.

“I swear I have been pregnant for years,” She huffed, barely reaching over to where her keyboard sat at her desk. Tara nudged it forward for her to grab, because it seemed like she was on her breaking point enough as it was, and received a brief nod of thanks “I can’t remember a time when my back didn’t hurt, or my boobs were aching or my head wasn’t all fuzzy and weird and- OH for the love of god SWITCH ON YOU PIECE OF SHIT,” 

JJ’s brows raised as the keyboard mouse went flying off the side of her desk in protest, rolling straight past where Hotch and Spencer were strolling through the office, her boyfriend carrying the biggest Strawberry Milkshake he could find on this side of town. 

If Hotch wanted to say anything about her damaging property, he thought it smarter to keep his mouth shut as she swivelled to face the two of them, her expression already irritated by the worried stare they shot her way. 

“What?” She said with a bite, and Spencer raised his hands in surrender, which left her gaze to slide to Hotch. 

And Hotch loved her too, loved her more than he would ever admit. But he swore he the second her eyes clamped on his, Aaron Hotchner considered an exorcism might be necessary. 

“What, what are you staring at me for?” She snapped, throwing her hands out like a bratty teenager, and Hotch cleared his throat before he spoke, something embarrassingly close to fear shaking his vocal chords.

“Have you given any more thought to maternity leave, yet?” He asked and her eye twitched, and it was as if he saw the stapler was next on her list of things to send flying off the table, preferably straight at his head. “I would be more than happy to pull some strings so you take longer off after the baby is born, maybe even Spencer could start his paternity early-”

“What?” She said for a third time, like she was a broken record. And she knew she was being unfair, perhaps even cruelly so. But she would make it up to them later, when she was in a better frame of mind. Her underwear rode up and pinched where her uterus had begun to drop, her trousers itched for whatever reason, her face was hot from just walking from the elevator to her chair and that was just since she’d entered the office. She hadn’t got much energy for showers anymore and so washing her hair became some ugly affair where Spencer got in with her and did it for her, only last time he put a little too much product on and got the suds in her eyes and they had spent twenty minutes rinsing her face, naked and dripping wet, over the sink. She felt awful, awful for how she was being so irrationally rude, but it was like every inch of her being was uncomfortable. And there was still another month to go.

“Good god, man, don’t poke the bear,” Tara hummed as she passed, taking her own half full mug to the kitchen to escape whatever was rumbling in that hot head of hers. 

Hotch swallowed heavily, noticing how Spencer stayed deadly quiet no doubt because he’d learned his lesson in trying to force Bugsy into doing something when she was like this, “I’m saying I think it would be good for you to take some time off, you’ve both worked hard enough as it is and with the baby being so close, it would be good to take it easy for a few weeks-” 

She pressed her lips together, because she knew he was probably trying to help, probably trying to be considerate, and yet the heat of annoyance bubbled up inside her all the same like a kettle on the precipice of boiling.

“If you want the big scary pregnant lady out of your way just spit it out, Hotch,” She snapped, scowling at him in a way he remembered Hailey doing when he so much as sneezed too loud.

And he couldn’t find it in him to be mad at her. Because anyone with eyes saw she was uncomfortable, he knew if she was anything like his own ex-wife then she wouldn’t be sleeping nearly as much as she should, that more than likely their kid would be already kicking with long, scrawny legs to get out and show the world what they were made of. 

Hotch was saved from the firing line when his guess was proved almost immediately, and she groaned with a hand to her abdomen. 

“Spencer, would you tell your kid they’re not a linebacker and that my kidneys aren’t the damn ball,” She complained, and her partner flashed her a brave smile, leaning over her to rub where she was caressing her battered organs. 

“Actually, right about here will be your spleen since the baby has pushed everything around at this stage-” And with that Hotch darted towards his office because Bugsy looked ready to clip someone around the ear, and he didn’t have the heart to write her up for it.

Although for the sanctity of his team, he rushed her documents through the same afternoon and gave her an extra four weeks pay in lieu of a truce. 

MONTH NINE. The one with the birth.

It had been fourteen hours already when the doctor mentioned the word caesarean. 

“Caesarean? We never planned for a C-section,” Bugsy’s eyes widened where she was intermittently sucking down gas and air, Spencer patting her forehead down with an ice wet cloth. 

But then again she supposed she had never planned to go into labour when getting the laundry off the washing line while Spence painted the porch. 

He looked at her with nervous hazel hues where her face sparkled with sweat and water, her hand squeezing him tightly as another contraction hit. 

“I’m afraid we have few options left, Miss Prentiss,” The midwife said, a woman around her age that was already masked up after prodding around her cervix for a few hours, “Fourteen hours is rough on anyone and we’re not seeing any movement past your pelvis. Any longer and you or your baby might be at risk,”

And it was the truth, but it was a harsh one, and tears sprung to her eyes hearing those last few words. She had never had any delusions it would be easy giving birth, it was revered as the most painful thing anyone could go through, but she had assumed on a hope and a prayer that things would go smoothly. 

“I know it’s scary,” Spencer found his voice after a second, their hands clasped tightly together because there was more chance of snow in hell than there was he was letting her do this alone, “But, baby, you’re doing so well, and you’re almost there,” He said in a watery sweet tone, dabbing at her brow once more and the two of them exchanged a teary look, “It’s going to be okay, you’re going to be okay, they’re going to numb you for the whole thing and when it’s over we’re going to have our baby, huh?” 

She smiled ruefully because he was trying desperately to cheer her up, even though it sounded like he was reassuring himself just as much as he was her.

And she nodded, because she knew he was right, and more than anything she wanted their baby to be safe, even if it meant having her insides scooped out like she was some russian nesting doll. 

“O-okay, yeah, c-can Spencer stay with me?” She asked nervously, and the midwife smiled, pressing a button to call for the anesthesiologist.

“Ofcourse, honey. Just try to relax, we’re going to arrange an epidural for you,” She said in a voice that told Bugsy she’d practised staying calm in an emergency a thousand times. 

Bugsy breathed through her nose, feeling Spencer swoop in to wipe the lone few tears dribbling down her cheeks. 

“It’s gonna be okay, we’re gonna be okay,” He said, his voice bustling with nerves and she wanted to tell him the same, wanted to tell him she loved him more than ever for trying to put a brave face on for her sake. But she couldn’t, so she nodded frantically, leaning her forehead against his cheek and taking a few more deep breaths. 

–

“You’re doing great, honey, you’re being so brave,” Spencer reassured in his biggest voice, his hand carding over the side of her hot face gently. There was blood, there was so much blood, and the sound of her monitor was the only sound that was constant and not at all worrying with its steady heart beat. 

The midwives were flitting around the room, the lead obstetrician making careful incisions and handing various things Spencer didn’t want to see over to his co-workers. Because he loved their baby already, couldn’t wait to meet the mini him he’d been dreaming about since he was a boy himself, but Bugsy needed him first. She was his everything, his whole life, his whole universe fading between clear consciousness and a slightly loopy gaze as she relaxed on the table. 

“Is it over? Are they here, are they okay?” She slurred, looking over at him where his hair was covered in a blue scrub cap, his entire body wrapped in protective uniform to minimise the risk of infection on her body. 

He cradled her face again, shaking his head, “Not yet honey, you’re doing so good, it’s nearly over,” Spencer said, pressing his brow against hers because he had a mask over his mouth and couldn’t kiss her properly, “I love you so much, I swear I’ll try every day of my life to repay you,” 

“You’re being mushy, you’re freaking me out,” She joked as if she was her regular self, because the midwives had all warned him that the sedatives would take the edge off her nerves. And he chuckled, even if he was worrying enough for the two of them, sniffling behind the stuffy mask he had to keep on until she was in recovery. 

“I’m sorry, baby, I just want you to be okay,” Spencer said earnestly, and he pressed a kiss to her head anyway even if she wouldn’t feel it with his mask, “I’m gonna get you so many milkshakes when this is-”

There was a wail behind the curtain they had draped over her stomach, and both their breaths stopped in their chests. 

“Is that…” Bugsy started, her eyes wide and alert even if seconds ago she had been almost drunk, “Is that it- is that them?”

And another scream resounded around the room as if to answer her. 

Spencer swore he had never felt tears well in his eyes so fast until one of the midwives brought a wriggling, wrinkly bundle around the curtain, and within seconds he felt his cheeks sodden with tears. 

“Oh my god,” He said his smile reaching his eyes as the little creature was put on Bugsy’s chest, and it was only then he realised she was weeping too and he resumed his position stroking her head, “It’s a-”

“It’s a girl! Spencer, we have a girl!” Bugsy’s grin went from ear to ear, her eyes round and adoring at the ugly, scrunched face still screaming at them, her eyes closed and her skin covered in a white goop, “Oh my god, she’s so beautiful,” 

“I told you she’d take after you,” Spencer said, not minding the nurses sewing Bugsy up as they stared at their little girl, Bugsy’s arms holding her body weight delicately though she didn’t quite know what she was doing. 

Spencer was quick to remove the mask once they cleared him to, and the second he was freed he pushed his lips to his girlfriend’s, their mouths equally as salty and sodden as one another with the way their cheeks washed with tears. Pulling away, he looked at her in the eyes, the same eyes he’d always loved, the same eyes he’d know in any life, in any world, in any fog, and their smiles were damn near blinding. 

“I love you so much, I swear I’m going to make it up to you, anything you want,” Spencer said, kissing her again, his hand resting over hers where she held their baby girl on her bare chest. 

She didn’t have the heart to tell him she already had everything she’d ever wanted right there with her. 

“I love you so much more, Spencer,” She said quietly, the two of them pulling away when the little girl squealed again and they chuckled, quickly rushing to calm her cries as they looked at her as if they had yet to realise she was real and she was theirs, “Oh my god Spencer, you’re a daddy,”

“Bugsy, you’re a mommy,” He said with raised brows and she gasped, giggling with glee as her free hand flew to grab his face and pull him in to kiss her again, “We’re a mommy and daddy,” 

The two of them burst out laughing even though overjoyed tears lined their eyes again, and Spencer trailed a large finger down her chubby cheek softly, her skin shrivelled and pruney like she’d been submerged in a bath for too long. 

“Spencer, she’s perfect,” She said after a moment, her breath completely stolen when she took her in, the small head completely covered in dark hair, which she had already suspected would be there from the amount of times she found herself itching at her stomach. Her tiny fists waved in the air as her sobs subsided, beginning to warm up to the skin on Bugsy’s chest, and Spencer audibly choked in a cry of his own when her eyelids slowly blinked open and revealed forest hues damn near identical to his own. He pushed his temple to Bugsy’s again as she carefully swayed her from side to side.

“I’m never going to let anything hurt you,” He murmured, his breath warm on her collarbone and his baby girl stared back at him like she understood, even though he knew that was pretty much  impossible, “Either of you,” 

Bugsy sniffled with a wobbly smile, her hands shaking as she held her daughter up, “Do you want to hold her?” 

Spencer looked ready to wail all over again, not that she would ever hold it against him. The two of them had been weeping all day, and their kid was a real tear jerker to look at with her thick lashes and wide eyes. 

He was quick to pop open his shirt, holding his hands out nervously as she placed the baby in his arms, his fingers supporting under her head the whole time he brought her to his chest. 

Bugsy smiled, the midwife checking in with her for a moment before they were ready to wheel her into the other room to rest up, while Spencer looked entirely enamoured with the little bundle in his arms. 

He was a dad. He had made this beautiful, perfect little girl with the woman he loved more than anything in the world, and somehow she had given him even more reasons to feel so lucky. 

“Hello, you,” He said through bleary eyes, smiling through a chuckle when he saw just how tiny she looked in his arms, and he had never seen anything look so fragile, “I’m going to try be the best dad you could ever have, okay? I’m gonna be there for all the lame parties, and the sleepovers and the big games and every single time you need help on your homework, I’m gonna be right there with you.” 

“What name are we putting on the chart?” The midwife asked as Bugsy watched Spencer murmur to the sweet face that looked up at him in wonder, “Or is it just Baby Girl Prentiss for the moment?” 

“It’s Reid,” Bugsy said with a smile, as Spencer poured even more of his gentle heart out in promises she knew he would keep until the day he died. And she knew without checking with him the name they chose weeks ago was perfect; the one they’d decided on just a few days after the nursery was finished and she had yet another bowl of frozen grapes to chow down on while they admired their work. 

One for his mother, one for Emily. 

“Ana Emilia Reid,”

–

taglists:

TROUBLE 

@littlemadamred  @stainedpomegranatelips  @mcntsee  @release-your-sweets @smileykiddie08  @caramelised-onions  @the-tpd-bau  @stephthepeach @sunflowersndpeaches  @sammy-4103  @starmansirius  @yeonalie  @delusionallooney  @sadbae-33  @mdanon027  @swag13r  @frickin-bats @bilesxbilinskixlahey  @mindfullycriminal  @mrsbellastyles  @imagines--galore  @bluejaysaysstuff  @imaginexred  @flow33didontsmoke  @spicyspirit  @mywellspringoflife  @lovelyygirl8  @pleasantwitchgarden @rosylnsworld  @jamieolivia27 @halcyonwithletters  @waywardhunter95 @ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist  @theoraekenslover  @niktwazny303  @alyeskathewave  @yondiii  @cultish-corner  @lllucere  @escapismurmom @stillhere197  @hiireadstuff  @queermaxwooo  @telengraph  @ivyflowers13 @estrela-rogers  @busy-buzzing

[shesjustanothergeek]

The Gods We Can Touch Masterlist

|Aemond Targaryen x Strong!Reader| ft. Yandere Aegon and Alicent

Summary: The older twin of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, you were a picture of the maiden, untouched and untainted by man's sins. At least, that was what Alicent Hightower believed when she held you in her arms moments after her old friend's labors. You were her shining light, her dream. Though you were never hers, she believed you were meant to be.

What will become of you as time passes and the Queen's shining light grows within the blackened darkness? Will her eldest son's morbid fascination with the light burn the realm? Or will her second son's obsession with the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen change the course of the Seven Kingdoms as we know it?

"I have outlasted all desire,

My dreams and I have grown apart;

My grief alone is left entire,

The gleamings of an empty heart.

The storms of ruthless dispensation

Have struck my flowery garland numb,

I live in lonely desolation

And wonder when my end will come."

Chapter One: My Dream

Chapter Two: The Gods' Light

Chapter Three: The Long Night

Chapter Four: Before the Storm

Chapter Five: The Princess and the Queen

Chapter Six: Salt and Blood

Archmaester Gyldayn’s Testimonies of Princess Aelora Targaryen’s Youth

Chapter Seven: Ending Anew

Chapter Eight: The Lord of the Tides

Chapter Nine: Time Mends the Broken

Chapter Ten: The Black Council

Chapter Twelve:

Chapter Eleven: The Weight of a Crown

Chapter Thirteen:

Chapter Fourteen:

Chapter Fifteen:

Chapter Sixteen:

Chapter Seventeen:

Chapter Eighteen:

Chapter Nineteen:

Chapter Twenty:

Chapter Twenty-One:

Chapter Twenty-Two:

Chapter Twenty-Three:

Chapter: Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five:

Chapter Twenty-Six:

Chapter Twenty-Seven:

Chapter Twenty-Eight:

Chapter Twenty-Nine:

Chapter Thirty:

Chapter Thirty-One:

Chapter Thirty-Two:

Chapter Thirty-Three:

Chapter Thirty-Four:

Chapter Thirty-Five:

Spotify Playlist

The reader does have a name (no use of it) for the sake of titles and the typical Targaryen/Strong features, but other than that, descriptions are vague.

All House of the Dragon/A Song of Ice and Fire warnings apply, but I will put specific ones with each chapter.

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 4

in which spencer reid and inexperienced fem!reader are interrupted at the most inopportune of times. he calls you on the first night of his case. dirty talk turns into a hard conversation. we get a glimpse into spencer's past, and we finally learn why he's so hesitant to sleep with you.

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: dirty talk, phone sex/mutual masturbation, softdom!spence, obligatory he talks u through it, lots of graphic discussions of sex, established relationship, angst (sorrryyy!) a/n: so remember how i said you'd need the bonus chapter to fully appreciate/understand this part? i was wrong!! it will come in handy probably in the next part tho:) also idk how these parts keep getting so long im sorry! anyway, i love you all so bad. thank you for bearing w/ my craziness. PLEASE let me know your thoughts on this part!! i adore hearing from you!! kisses

(also special thank you to @fliesforeyes who convinced me phone sex w/ spence could be done!! i will link his phone sex blurb here :)) thank u binx!!

“Three million six hundred eighty four thousand three hundred thirty two times fourteen million seven hundred sixty one thousand nine hundred seventy one.”

You’ve lost count of how many stupid math questions you’ve asked your human calculator boyfriend, just to see if he can actually do them. Spencer is silent for a second, and you think you’ve finally stumped him. 

“That one is complicated.”

You sit bolt upright in his bed, looking down at him and pointing an accusatory finger. His brows raise at the manic look in your eye. 

“You don’t know.”

“I do know. I meant it would be hard to explain if you aren’t a math person.”

“Bullshit!” You scoff, “you don’t know!”

“It would display on a calculator as five-point-three-eight-eight-E-thirteen. It’s a really big number.”

“Oh, really big, huh?” you mumble, searching for your phone blindly in the sheets and scrambling to open the calculator app. “Um… what numbers did I say?”

Spencer repeats them back to you and you press the equals sign. 

You look at it. 

And then you set your phone down. 

“I was right, huh?” he smiles up at you, probably reveling in your pouty wrongness. 

Too proud to admit it, you collapse on top of him, burying your face in his shoulder. 

“I don’t like this game anymore. What the fuck even is an e? Why are we doing algebra?”

Spencer laughs, brushing your hair aside. 

“The e stands for exponent. It’s to the power of ten.”

“Ever heard of a rhetorical question?”

“Yes, I have.”

It’s hard not to snort even at his dumbest jokes. 

“You’re annoying. Let’s do something else.”

You roll over onto your back again, letting your head flop over to look at Spencer, whose hair is exactly the right amount of messy after a long day, falling in impossibly soft waves over the perfect lines and contours of his face. Despite lounging, he’s still in his suit from work—he’d left Quantico and immediately picked you up. There were no solid plans for the evening, so after both of you pretended that you wanted to go out for a while, you ended up back at his apartment. 

He looks good. Almost too good. 

��Something like what?” he smiles lazily, reaching over and tracing his fingers over your cheek. 

“Something… naked?”

His grin widens and he shakes his head. 

“Me naked or you naked?”

Pretending to think about it, you roll your bottom lip between your teeth. 

“Mm… why not both?”

“Hm. Why do I feel like I know where this is going?”

The mattress sinks underneath your elbow as you prop yourself up, dropping your head over Spencer’s to kiss him. 

“Because you’re so smart, and you think it’s a great idea.”

He entertains your kiss for a moment. Just a moment.

“You sound sure of yourself.”

“Because I am!” You finally give in to your impulses, tangling your fingers in his hair and looking at him meaningfully. “It doesn’t make any sense for us to have not had sex. I don’t care about any of your weird, cryptic moral reasoning.”

He grabs your wrist carefully. 

“It is not moral,” he scoffs. “We haven’t even talked about it yet.”

“Really? Because I feel like we’ve talked about it a lot.” 

He begins to reply, but you realize you don’t want to get into a debate over whether you’ve technically talked about it yet. “I don’t even care! If that’s all that’s standing in your way, then let’s talk about it. Right now.”

Spencer sighs, his eyes darting between yours as he reaches up to cradle your cheek. 

“Fine. But I have things to say you’re not going to like.”

“So business as usual?”

He rolls his eyes. You allow yourself a tiny self-satisfied smirk, forever relishing in his poorly-hidden soft spot for your constant teasing. Spencer ignores this. Which is probably for the best. 

“I know you probably won’t see it this way, but—sex is different than everything else we’ve done so far. It can be really fun, obviously it feels good, it facilitates deeper feelings of connection—that’s all true. Which is why, in my opinion, it’s incredibly important that you be selective with who you sleep with. Because it’s so easy to do something you regret, and sex is vulnerable. It should always be with someone you trust and—and… care about.”

A pink flush stains his cheeks like watercolor as he stumbles over the last few words. It makes your heart flutter against the confines of your chest.

Maybe best not to think about the absence versus presence of certain four-letter words and what they may or may not mean. You’ll move on to more pressing matters and pretend like it doesn’t ache just a little in your whole body. 

You cover his hand with your own. 

“Are you going to break up with me anytime soon?”

Spencer’s eyes widen, filling with genuine horror and confusion. 

“What? No!”

“Are you going to cheat on me?”

“Absolutely not, I—”

“Then I’m not going to regret it. Issue resolved. Moving on.”

“Honey, I just want you to be 100% sure that I’m what you want.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, flopping onto your back once more. “I have begged you to sleep with me on multiple occasions. We have been dating for months and I liked you even longer before that. I think about it literally every time I see you. I don’t know how to be any surer.”

It’s quiet for a moment as you study the imaginary pattern on the ceiling. The rebuttal you’d been anticipating doesn’t come—instead, the mattress shifts next to you. Spencer enters your field of vision, now leaning over you with a little smile on his face that gives you butterflies. 

“Every time?”

“…yes, every time,” you agree, voice considerably thinner than it had been a moment ago. Spencer glances at your lips as he speaks. 

“Interesting. And what is it that you think about exactly?”

You groan again, attempting to roll facedown, but he pins your shoulder to the bed. The way he’s sweetly kissing down your cheek and jaw is infuriating because you know it’s a false pretense. 

“Ugh, I don’t know! Don’t make me answer that!”

“You said if talking about it was all that was standing in my way, we would talk about it. Now I want to talk about it. Come on,” he says, voice low and cloying against your throat as he attempts to tease the answer out of you. “Tell me what you think about when you think about us having sex.”

You let out a shaky breath at the feeling of his lips skimming your neck, hating how easily he can reduce you to this. 

“I… I always wonder what it will feel like. Sometimes I wonder if it will hurt.”

Spencer sighs, interrogation by way of seduction momentarily forgotten. You silently curse yourself for saying something so un-sexy. 

“It might, sweetheart. That’s one of the reasons we’ve held back. I… really don’t want to hurt you. I don’t even know if I can.”

You grab his face in both hands, forcing him to look at you with more confidence than you feel. 

“Sometimes I worry about it, too. But I like you a lot more than it scares me. I still want to.”

He kisses your palm. 

“You’ll be okay. It doesn’t hurt for everyone, and even if it does, you’re resilient.”

“Exactly. So you have to get over yourself.”

Spencer laughs like he wasn’t expecting to, eyes sparkling as he regards you.  

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe I do.”

He’s smiling again as he leans down and kisses you—a slow, lingering thing which tastes like spearmint as you part your lips for him. 

“Please?” you whisper against him after a long moment. He hums, keeps kissing you. 

“What is it that you think you want? You don’t even know what you’re asking for.”

“Tell me,” you beg, chasing his lips. “Tell me what you’re going to do with me. We can talk about it. This is talking about it.”

Spencer exhales deeply, wedging a thigh between yours. Immediately you clamp around it, trying not to grind against him too overtly. 

“You want to know what I’d do to you?”

“Yes—” you paw at his jacket. Surprisingly, he doesn’t stop you from pushing it off. Your heart pounds. 

“Well… we both know how anxious you get,” he muses, pressing his lips so delicately to your fluttering pulse-point in emphasis, and then back to your mouth. His thigh pushes harder against you to supplant the absence of his lips as he speaks, though he kisses you sporadically and between sentences. “You’re hard to get out of your head when you’re nervous, you know that? I watch it happen. One minute you’re with me, and then you start overthinking, and getting self-conscious. The only thing that seems to relax you is letting me touch you—so first I would touch you like I’ve touched you before. I’d make sure you know how pretty you are and how good you deserve to feel.” You whimper inadvertently at his words, arching into him and grinding against his leg as he pauses to kiss the sensitive soft spot below your jaw. “You’re going to need to be really ready to let me in. Do you know what I mean by that?”

As he asks, he pushes his thigh against you harder. Your body responds immediately, arching into him and seeking more friction. When you squeak, he takes it as a no. 

“I mean I need you relaxed and wet. You’ll excuse my crude language.”

You pull at his tie, breathing heavier now and so turned on it’s almost painful. 

“What are you gonna do after that?”

“What else is there to do but fuck you after that?” he breathes. “You want me to tell you how I’d fuck you?”

Something about it makes you whine salaciously. You’ve heard him curse—you’ve even heard him talk about fucking you. But it feels more real now; when it’s low in your ear and you’re covertly undressing him and he’s pushing your shirt over your stomach promisingly. 

“Yes, please.” 

He hums against your jaw, nipping and brushing his lips over the skin as he considers. Leaves you waiting. 

“I would have to take my time with you. You’ll be overwhelmed. I know you think you won’t, but you will. I’m going to have to be so, so careful with you, angel. It’s going to drive me insane. But it will feel good for you.”

“Why careful? I don’t want that.”

He chuckles. A chill runs down your spine. 

“Yeah, you do. You’re going to want me to be careful when I’m—” he pauses, pressing his thumb to your bare lower tummy and dragging up to a spot below your belly button. He presses down lightly again. “Right here. Approximately.”

The surface of the sun has nothing on the temperature of your skin in this moment, as you writhe underneath him in both arousal and embarrassment. Mostly, burning need. You feel almost sick with it. 

“Please don’t make me wait anymore. Just do it, please, Spencer. I need it to be you, I don’t want it to be anyone else. I promise I’m ready.”

It’s silent for a moment. Your heart quickens. You sense his walls wearing away, his instinct to keep you intact for god knows what reason crumbling. He’s finally going to give you what you’ve been begging for. 

Spencer opens his mouth, eyes glimmering—

And then his phone rings. 

You both freeze—he melts dejectedly before you do, more accustomed to an ill-timed phone call and realizing the finality it can present. 

He’s breathing heavily against your neck, as if maybe whoever it is will just hang up. But the phone keeps ringing. 

“I’m sorry.”

Your stomach sinks as he sits up, grabbing his phone from the side table and rubbing circles on your inner thigh as he answers.

“This is Reid,” he says, lackluster. 

If you wanted, you could hear what Penelope is saying—but you don’t bother listening. It’s going to be a case. Spencer is about to leave. The details are his problem. 

“Okay. I’ll be there in an hour.”

He hangs up, tossing the phone onto the mattress and not speaking for a moment, just continuing to rub your leg apologetically. Watching you almost mournfully—taking in your disheveled hair, your likely blown-out pupils, the shirt pushed almost over your chest. 

“I have to go right now,” he finally manages with a heavy sigh, gently pulling your shirt back into place. 

You sit up, shedding all the hopes that had been building for the evening, and try to sound chipper—though all you feel is bitter disappointment that goes deeper than you understand. 

“I know. Go ahead, I can get a cab home.”

He frowns, running his hand over the back of your hair. 

“I don’t love the idea of you standing on the sidewalk waiting for a car in this part of town so late. Do you just want to stay here for the night and go home tomorrow?”

You force a smile. Great. So you’ll be spending the night in his bed after all—just without him. 

“Sure. Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of you are feeling particularly grateful. 

Soon you’re walking him to his own door. Both of you come to a stop in front. 

“I’m sorry,” he sighs again. 

“Spencer, it’s fine. It’s your job. You don’t need to apologize. You were very clear about this part when we started dating.”

“I know, but… it’s easier in theory than in practice.”

You smile. If Spencer is a reflection of you, it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. His hair is still messy from your fingers running through it and he’s missing his tie. You hope all his coworkers see and feel bad about taking him away from you. 

But it’s not their fault. You just want someone to blame. 

Instead you mould yourself to his body, wrapping around him like you belong there. He returns your embrace, pressing his lips into the crook of your shoulder and rubbing your back in that way he always does with you. 

In that moment, your affection for him becomes so profound it’s like a chemical reaction—everywhere he touches burns and you love him so fucking much it aches in every inch of your body the way your muscles do when you have a bad fever. Love is the most terrible of afflictions, you realize. It is a fever dream. It’s every fiber of your being screaming to tell him how you feel, to beg him on your knees not to go because you love him like a child loves a parent or a bee loves honeysuckle or the ocean loves the horizon. Pared down to your most basic components, the barest version of yourself, you require him. Your soul needs his soul. 

“Spencer?”

“Hm?” 

It’s nothing more than an absentminded hum against your skin. 

“I…”

Should you be looking him in the eye when you say this? Should you say it right before he has to leave? Just because you say it doesn’t change the fact that he’s about to be gone for several long days. Maybe this is a terrible time to admit something that suddenly feels so true and so consequential. 

He senses your internal conflict, pulling back despite your resistance and holding your face between his hands. 

“You what?” He murmurs, soft eyes bouncing back and forth between your own. Fuck—you feel so observed, now. Like he can read your mind. 

“I forget.”

FUUUUUUCK. 

Spencer blinks. Processes. You watch the disbelief crystallizing over his eyes like ice freezing over a lake. 

He knows. 

He knows you didn’t forget, and he probably knows what you were going to say, and he’s going to tell himself he was wrong to spare your dignity. 

Everything hurts when he kisses you. You wonder what regret tastes like. 

“Well, let me know if you remember.”

It’s too gentle and at the same time he can’t hide the edge with all the tenderness in the world. You nod as if in a trance, already looking forward to dissociating as you lie in bed and stare at the dark ceiling.

Two small goodbyes are exchanged, slightly stifled now, as if shared between drunk strangers who have sobered up and are mutually embarrassed about how candidly they’d interacted before. 

You close the door behind him, doing up all the locks, and meticulously flick every light switch in the apartment off before climbing into his bed—though you don’t really feel like you deserve to be there anymore.

But perhaps this is all an overreaction. It’s not like you owe it to him to say I love you, or anything—it was bad timing, anyway. And why can’t he say it? In fact, why hasn’t he said it? 

Maybe you have it all wrong. 

Maybe he doesn’t feel that way about you. 

You fall asleep before you allow these questions to make you sick. 

24 hours go by. 

24 hours go by and you really had meant to leave his apartment—it was just that you woke up late, and your phone was dead so you couldn’t call a car, so you charged it while you made breakfast, and then you ate, and then you decided to take a shower and wash your clothes, and then it was two in the afternoon and you hadn’t left yet and you decided to walk to the store and replenish the groceries you’d used up. 

Maybe you got a bit distracted looking at flowers and other beautiful things at the market and by the time you got home it was 5:00, so you decided to wait until seven to skip rush hour. And then eight, just to be sure. 

Before you know it, it’s midnight, and you’re dozing off in his bed again (teeth cleaned with the brush you’d bought at the store—maybe this whole situation hadn’t been entirely unwitting on your part.)

Throughout the day, you tried to let all your anxiety about the previous night melt away. If it’s something that needs to be addressed, Spencer will address it. Everything will work out in the end. That thought is how you’re able to doze off. 

You’re almost asleep when your phone lights up and begins buzzing on the side table. You wince as your eyes open, not adjusting well to the harsh bright display and unable to discern who’s even calling you at this hour. Stupidly, probably because you’re half asleep, you answer without checking. 

“Hello?”

Your voice is groggy, quiet with sleep. 

“Shit, did I wake you?”

“Spence?” you whisper, stomach flipping at the sound of his voice on the other line. You feel caught, still sleeping in his bed. 

“… yeah,” he chuckles. “Did you not check who was calling before you picked up?”

“I was asleep,” you pout. “Kinda.”

“Okay. Go back to sleep, honey. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

You sit bolt upright, phone balanced between tense fingers and speaking directly into the microphone. 

“No! No, I’m awake. What’s up? Why did you call?”

A longer stretch of silence—you’re too sleepy to comprehend what it might mean, though never too sleepy to worry about it. With a pang of pain, you recall your strange goodbye, the words you hadn’t said. 

“I just needed to hear your voice,” he sighs. You frown, staring at nothing in particular in the pitch black room. 

“Oh. Is everything okay?”

“As much as it can be.”

“Right.”

More quiet. You chew on the inside of your cheek, stricken with a sudden feeling of awkwardness that you haven’t had with Spencer in a while. 

“I’m sorry… I don’t really know what to say.”

“That’s okay,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice which makes you feel a bit better, “why don’t you tell me about your day? Or you can absolutely go back to sleep, if you’re too tired.”

“Don’t ask me about my day,” you whisper, flopping down on the bed once more. Shame seeps into your voice. He laughs. 

“What? Why?”

“Because if I tell you you’re going to think I’m super weird and you’re going to break up with me.”

Laughter tapers off into gentler tones. 

“I already think you’re super weird. It’s actually one of your most attractive qualities.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks. 

“But it’s like… borderline crazy.”

Immediately, he replies, “for better or worse, I also frequently find myself attracted to crazy.”

“Thank you for calling me crazy and super weird,” you grumble. 

“I also called you attractive twice. Tell me.”

When his tone takes on that easy, assertive quality, and it’s sort of raspy and low because it’s late and he’s been talking all day, and you can hear the lazy smile on his face—you imagine him laying on his hotel bed, arm slung over his eyes in the dark as he grins into the microphone—you have a very difficult time saying no. 

“Fine. Guess where I am right now.”

“Um, I would hope you’re in bed?”

You smile to yourself, basking in the victory of successfully throwing him off his game even slightly. 

“Guess whose bed.”

Silence. 

“What an interesting question.” That cocky smile, the low drawling is back, and you chew on your lip, ignoring the shiver that runs down your spine. “If it’s not mine or yours, we’re going to have issues.”

“But if it is yours? You’re not going to call the police on me?”

“Why would I call the police? To tell them there’s a pretty girl in my bed and I don’t want her there?”

“To tell them your psychopathic girlfriend broke into your apartment and might be holding hostages there.”

Spencer laughs; a brittle, drawn out thing, flat and quiet as the desert.

“If you were a psychopath, calling the cops would be a waste of time. I would handle you myself.” The idea of being handled has your thighs clenching. “But—yeah, don’t invite anyone else in.” More humor finds its way into his voice, momentarily relieving some tension that had sneakily begun to build. “Having people in my space makes me anxious.”

“But not me?” Your whisper is half flirtatious, half insecure. Spencer’s reply is soft, as if he’s picking up on this from hundreds of miles away.

“No, not you. You are always the exception.”

“Good,” you say, cheeks aching as you half-bury your warm face into his pillow. “Because I made myself really comfortable. You have a nice shower, by the way.”

Spencer groans. 

“You’re killing me.”

“What? What did I do!”

“Don’t talk to me about my bed and my shower. I might start to think you’re intentionally being a brat.”

“You asked me about my day! I’m just telling you what I did!”

But you’re also intentional teasing him for sure.  After a pause, he sighs in defeat. 

“You’re right. I did do that. Tell me what else happened.”

“Well,” you begin, all too eager, “I had to put my clothes in the dryer after I got out, so I borrowed some of yours. But then they were way comfier than mine, so after I went to the store I put them back on, and—”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?” you frown. 

“Tell me what this is.”

“I—I don’t know what you mean.”

Lying to a profiler is usually pointless. 

“I’m not stupid, sweetheart. Tell me why you keep talking about my shower and my bed and my clothes.”

Caught red-handed. Your skin heats up. 

“I don’t know. I miss you.”

He hums in a way that blurs the line between sympathetic and patronizing. Even through the phone you can feel the bass of it in your bones.  It changes the frequency you’re vibrating at. It’s hypnotic. 

“But that’s not really why you’re being intentionally provocative, is it?”

“No,” you admit quietly. “I’m still upset you had to go last night.”

“So you’re frustrated and you’re taking it out on me?”

Your brow furrows. Well, when he puts it like that…

“I’m not taking anything out on you.”

“I think you are. And I don’t appreciate that, because I’m on your side, honey. Do you think I prefer being in a hotel bed by myself or being in my bed with you?”

Somehow, he makes you feel like a scolded child. But he makes it appealing in ways you don’t understand. 

“Your bed with me,” you murmur, skin prickling with the coldness of his absence even as you curl under the blanket. 

“Right. So why don’t you tell me what I can do for you right now, instead of punishing me for things that are beyond my control?”

“I wasn’t punishing you,” you mutter. 

“No? You weren’t intentionally talking about using my shower and sleeping in my bed and putting on my clothes so that I’d have to think about what I can’t have right now?”

“I—”

“Believe me when I tell you I have been thinking about what I can’t have, all day. Your efforts are entirely redundant and you can’t say anything about yourself that is even close to as dirty as the frankly disrespectful thoughts I’ve been having about you for seventeen hours.”

The lack of air is making you so dizzy your vision goes gray at the edges. 

“What… what thoughts?”

“None that you need to concern yourself with.”

“You can’t just say something like that and then not tell me!” you insist. He’s obviously giving you a taste of your own medicine and it’s fair but it doesn’t mean you have to like it. 

“I can do whatever I want,” Spencer corrects cooly in a way that pisses you off beyond belief because he’s right. It triggers some adolescent immaturity within you—a desire to get back at him, so to speak. He wants intentionally provocative? He can have it. 

“Fine. Then so can I. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it even if I could.”

“Spencer,” you warn. “If you don’t tell me what you were thinking I’m gonna—” you look around the room for ammo. “I’m gonna look through your nightstand!”

“Go ahead. I’ll warn you, it’s not very interesting.”

“Sounds like what someone who has something hide would say,” you mumble, crawling across the mattress through tangled sheets and using your phone flashlight to open the drawer. 

Spencer is patient and silent as you take in its contents—a small blue leather-bound notebook (full of what looks like Russian), a fountain pen, a glasses case, various kinds of vitamins, and—

“Spencer Reid,” you say, dragging out his name and pretending nothing is fluttering in your stomach, “what are these?”

“I don’t know. I can’t see what you’re referring to.”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Oh, I have one. But I’d like to hear you say it.”

You realize you may have gotten yourself in deeper than you meant to by going through his stuff. Well—they don’t say karma is a bitch for nothing. 

“What are you doing with a box of condoms?” 

He chuckles and you feel it in your whole body, warm as you stretch across his mattress and eye the box like it might jump out at you. 

“Those are years old. I’ve used three since I bought them.”

“Don’t tell me that,” you whine. “I don’t wanna think about all the other women you’ve seduced.”

“You wanted them to be for you, huh?” 

You flush. Honestly you hadn’t even thought about that. 

“I… I don’t know. I kind of just assumed…”

It’s silent for a second and you frown, realizing you hadn’t even considered protection when you’d imagined sleeping with him before. 

“You assumed what, honey?” he asks, voice soft. 

“It’s dumb. I can’t tell you.”

“You can tell me anything. I’m not going to think it’s dumb, I promise.”

You chew on your lip, letting your eyes unfocus on the box as you muster the courage to be honest. 

“Whenever I imagined it… we didn’t… use anything.”

The words make you cringe even as you’re saying them. So does the quiet that follows. 

“When you imagine us sleeping together, we don’t use a condom?”

“Ah!” The phone drops to the mattress as you cover your ears and roll onto your side, curling into yourself once more. “You didn’t have to say it! You make me sound so weird!”

“It’s not weird,” he laughs, because he can probably imagine exactly what you just did, “I just wanted to make sure I was understanding you. That said… we would definitely use protection.”

“Do we have to?”

The quiet words take even you by surprise—and they seem to stun Spencer as well. Several false starts are punctuated by a sigh as he gathers his thoughts. 

“We really should, baby. That’s the kind of thing we need to take seriously.”

“But you’re… you’re good, right?”

Thankfully he picks up on your meaning. 

“I am. I wouldn’t touch you if I weren’t.”

“And I’m good. So...”

“Hm. And has anyone ever explained to you where babies come from?”

You groan in frustration. 

“Spencer, I’m being serious! There are ways to negate that.”

“Honey,” he murmurs, “I understand that. But it would be irresponsible of me to say yes. We can talk about it in the future, but—”

“I’m telling you it’s already dealt with. The chances of an accidental pregnancy are slim to none.”

The new information hangs in the air for a moment until Spencer speaks—to your surprise, his voice is low and humorous. 

“That is… good to know. But even so—I’m setting a dangerous precedent if I always let you get exactly what you want.”

“Is it such a bad thing that I just wanna—I wanna know what it feels like? You don’t want that?”

“That’s not what I said. I want to know exactly what you feel like. I’m just hesitant to give in so quickly because it makes me look weak.”

You laugh breathlessly, caught between being turned on by the first part of his sentence and amused by the sarcastic second half. Your thighs clench and your hand absentmindedly wanders between them. 

“You know what I was thinking about?” you ask. Spencer hums curiously. “I was thinking about when you let me, um… when you let me touch you how you touch me.” He hums again, but you can hear the amused curve of a smile in it now.

“When you had your mouth all full of me and you looked so pretty?”

“When I—yeah,” you agree, too caught up to deny his compliment as your fingers brush your most sensitive spot through clothing. “And  how you got me all messy after. And I was wondering what it would feel like… inside me.”

He sucks in a breath. Your legs brush against each other and you twist slightly as you pretend like you’re not touching yourself just a little bit. 

“You want me to come inside you?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, brain short-circuiting at the way those words sound in his voice. 

—

On the other side of the line, Spencer isn’t doing a fantastic job of thinking clearly either. His dick is half-hard already and it’s only getting worse with each little noise you make that you don’t seem to realize you’re making. 

“Really? That would be very messy, baby. I’m surprised that’s what you want.”

“But I really want it,” you breathe. He’s not even looking as he slips his hand under the waistband of his pajamas and palms himself, his other hand rubbing tiredly over his face as his phone rests on his chest. This was not how he intended for this call to go, believe it or not—but he’s here now. 

“Yeah? Is that why you’re touching yourself right now?”

You go silent—which is more or less exactly the reaction Spencer had been expecting. Patiently he waits for you to deny it, in three, two—

“’M not.”

Now, he could explain how he knows that’s a lie. How your breathing pattern changed, and your voice got softer and airier, and how you started speaking with smaller words in fragmented sentences. But he doesn’t feel like explaining any of that. 

“I know that’s not true,” he murmurs. “You know what? It wasn’t fair to get you all worked up last night and then leave. I don’t want you frustrated, honey. I want you to do whatever you need to do.”

You make a little gasping noise, and Spencer can imagine the way your back would arch when you did it. His own hips buck slightly as his dick twitches under his fingers. 

“Where are you touching?”

“Um—over my clothes.”

Cute. 

“Go under them for me. Tell me how it feels when you’re touching yourself like that.”

It takes a moment, in which all he hears is the rustling of fabric, until you’re whispering, “feels… it feels good. I wish you were here.”

He inhales, freeing his cock and squeezing the base. 

“I know. Just listen to my voice, pretty. I’m right here.”

Spencer allows himself a few slow tugs as he imagines what’s happening in his bed. You make a squeaking noise, like a held-back moan, and his eyes screw shut. 

“I need them inside,” you whine, and he knows you’re referring to his fingers—the ones currently stroking his own leaking cock. 

“You can use your own, just give yourself a minute first. Remember what I said about needing to be ready?”

“I am ready—” judging by the surprised chirp you interrupt yourself with, you’ve proven yourself right. What surprises Spencer is the weak sound of disappointment you make next. “Spence, it doesn’t feel the same.”

“We’re different sizes, honey. Your hands aren’t as big as mine. But you can still make it feel good.” 

He almost says, 90% of the nerves in the vaginal canal are located in the lower third—in other words, within approximately 2.36 inches from the opening, which you can most certainly reach—but he refrains. He’s not sure if that’s good dirty talk. 

“You have a really sensitive spot about three inches up, right in front. It’s going to feel a little different than the rest of you when you touch it. I want you to try and find it for me, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe, ever-eager to please even from a great distance. There’s a quiet moment. “I can’t—I don’t think I can r—oh,”

The moan is so pretty Spencer can’t help speeding up the motion of his hand, hissing slightly as his fingers brush against the angry tip with every pump. 

“Did you find it?”

“Yeah,” you whine, a weak, high-pitched thing. “Oh my god.”

“Be gentle,” he warns with some effort as his own hips jump slightly. “You’re really sensitive there. If you’re not careful you’ll make yourself sore.”

“I don’t care—holy shit—” the way your voice rises and tightens to a squeak at the end has Spencer moaning as he fucks his fist. A black hole forms and warps time, turning every minute into a second and every second into an infinity until he has no idea how much time is going by. He drags his thumb over the tip, smearing precum over his cock and whining as his jaw drops at the feeling. “Oh my god, Spencer,” in that same strained, high voice. “’M gonna—ah!”

He gets the general sentiment. 

“What, baby? You’re gonna make yourself come all over your fingers? Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

“Mhm!”

“Yeah, I bet you are. It feels good, huh?”

“Yes,” you cry. 

“See? You don’t need my fingers to feel good. Mine barely fit, you know that? I have to hold your fucking hips down whenever I put my fingers in you because you can’t stop squirming. I don’t know how you think you’re going to take my cock.”

“Spencer!” 

He knows. 

“Come, baby. Let me hear you.”

The delicate sounds you make as you bring yourself to orgasm tip him over the edge of his own—grunting as he comes all over his fist. 

“Jesus,” he strains under his breath, the word dragging out into two long syllables as his hips buck involuntarily and cum drips down his knuckles. He’s lightheaded and he’s created a mess and it all happened so quickly. “Fuck,” he breathes, a rasping chuckle as he reaches for the towel he’d dropped on the bed after his shower earlier. “You conscious over there?”

“I’m conscious,” you slur, breathing heavily. “I’ve never had an orgasm by myself before.”

“Are you proud of yourself?” Spencer smiles, wiping his hand off and making sure he’s otherwise clean. “You should be. I am.”

He’s barely kidding. 

“I’ll be proud when I can do it without your help,” you tease. 

“But I’ll always want to help you with that.” His already warm face flushes further as he goes over what he’d said. “Sorry I was so vulgar.”

You laugh. He blushes even more. 

“Are you? I think you secretly love being vulgar.”

“I don’t know why! I have no idea where it comes from. I would never speak that way in any other context. I should probably work on that. Sometimes I look back on the things I say and I’m genuinely appalled.”

“Well, don’t stop on my account. Personally I enjoy it.”

“Yeah, I think I’m corrupting you. You probably shouldn’t enjoy it.”

The truth of it weighs heavy on his mind, but he’s pretty sure his voice alone doesn’t betray that and you can’t sense it through the phone. 

“Oh, my god. Do not do that falling on your sword shit. I like being corrupted by you. If you stop I’ll be very upset.”

“Well god forbid you get upset,” he teases gently. Idly he wonders if the reason he’s suddenly feeling so depressed is because his cortisol levels were already high from the case, and then he jarred his system with an orgasm, spiking his dopamine and ultimately causing it to plummet without the oxytocin release that post-coital physical contact would usually provide. 

Or if it was something else. It could also be something else. 

For the millionth time, he wishes he was with you. Part of him also wants to go to sleep. But mostly he wishes he was with you. 

—

A comfortable silence settles over the conversation. In the ditch between words, you’re mapping constellations in the texture of Spencer’s ceiling. If you squeeze your eyes almost shut, you can imagine it really is the night sky. You can imagine he’s really here. 

You think about what he said—his apparently mindless vulgarity. Did it mean anything? Or was he just rambling to get you off?

“Spencer?” you murmur. 

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

He sounds earnest, perhaps a little tired, as he replies, “always,” through the little metal rectangle on your chest. He likes me and my questions are important to him, you repeat to yourself silently as you work up the strength. 

“If Penelope hadn’t called, last night… were you going to have sex with me?” 

Your lip tastes like his toothpaste as you chew it. Spencer sucks in a breath of air like he’s about to speak—and lets it fizzle out like foam on a carbonated drink. 

“I don’t know,” he finally admits, lamely. “That wasn’t my plan, but you can be extremely convincing when you want to be.”

“But why can’t it be your plan?” It’s an almost whine, pouty and childish—but the next words are quiet and pained. “Is it something I’m doing wrong?”

“No, no! It’s not you. You’re perfect. It’s—it’s complicated. It’s a me thing.”

Such trite words—such a ubiquitous, simple excuse sounds almost comical from his mouth when you know he’s capable of all the eloquence in the world. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s ridiculous. 

“Okay. Let me simplify this for you,” you begin with an uncharacteristic assertiveness that surprises even you. “I want to have sex with you. Either we are going to have sex or we’re not. So your future branches in two diverging paths. In one, we have sex, and then we keep having sex. In the other we never have sex ever. If you want to ever have the privilege of fucking me, then we just have to do it. Otherwise it simply will never happen. And I’m not eternally patient, Reid.”

Go me, you think, slightly breathless from your monologue. 

“Watch your mouth,” he says dryly. Something about the chastisement makes your stomach flip and your whole body tingle. “When you talk to me you call me Spencer. I will also accept Doctor Reid.” You wrestle down a smile, refusing to let him change the subject. A delayed sigh from him sobers up the conversation. “You know what I want. I’ve been very clear with you about that. But…”

“But…?”

Another sigh. A deeper, shuddering sigh, like his breath is searching for balance. Like Spencer is in a precarious position for which he was unprepared. 

“But—but to be completely honest… I worry that you’ll regret choosing me. And I know virginity is a social construct and I’m not implying that your worth will somehow be diminished if we have sex but regardless of my views on virginity as a construct, having sex for the first time can be weird and scary and it’s incredibly intimate and I don’t want you to regret your first time like I regret mine because you chose the wrong person.”

The words come at you so rapid-fire it takes you a moment to process them. And aside from all the ways you want to reassure him that you will not regret choosing him—that you could never, ever regret anything about him—one thing stands out. 

“You regret your first time?” 

Something between a scoff and a sigh travels through the line. You can tell he’s not annoyed at you for asking so much as he’s flustered himself with all his own words as he occasionally does. 

“Yeah. Yes. Sometimes I do. The person—she didn’t… like me as much as I liked her. And I was really, really in love with her, and she knew that and she knew she wasn’t in love with me—or maybe she was, I don’t know—but my point is, when one person likes the other more than the other person like them, things get complicated. And however you feel about me—that’s fine. It’s fine. I don’t want you to feel bad if we don’t feel exactly the same way about each other. I understand that this is newer for you, it’s different, I—I just don’t want us to do something we can’t undo because I don’t want to relive that. And I’m not saying it will never happen but I just don’t want you to make this choice when… when right now, I think we’re in different places emotionally. Regardless of that, I want you to choose the right person. I don’t want you to choose me and then find out that we feel differently after we sleep together and leave you feeling like you signed up for something you didn’t understand. I’m sorry. Maybe telling you this is selfish. But I’ve been thinking about it and trying to ignore it and I think I just have to be completely honest.”

Your ears ring like Spencer just fired a blank right into the microphone. Like you just got backhanded across the face and now you have the world’s worst case of whiplash. 

Every finger is numb and your blood is so cold it feels blue as it slithers thick through your veins. 

What you want to do is scream. What you want to do is go back to last night and stop yourself from almost telling him I love you, slap yourself and keep your cards a little closer to your chest. Because now he knows, and he doesn’t feel the same. 

You want to scream bloody murder. 

But when you try, when you unhinge your jaw and part your chapped lips and expect a bellow to come hurdling up the corridor of your throat with so much force it rattles your bones, all that falls out is a small, “oh.”

Maybe that’s worse. 

Spencer doesn’t reply. You hate yourself for feeling obliged to fill the silence. 

“I didn’t realize you…”

I didn’t realize that you don’t love me back. 

I didn’t realize I like you more than you like me. 

I didn’t realize you’d tell me to masturbate in your fucking bed and then drop this not even five minutes later. 

If Spencer Reid was able to talk to you over the phone with the same amount of affection and familiarity as always, like everything was still okay, knowing you love him and he doesn’t love you the whole time, he is not who you thought he was. 

“I’m sorry,” he lamely says again, like it could ever help. 

More silence. Now you can’t bring yourself to speak, so Spencer does. 

“I realize how awkward this is. I really didn’t mean to put you in this position. Especially not over the phone when I—god, I’m stupid. I’m sorry. But can we—can we talk about this in person when I get back? Please?”

Is that what grownups do? Is the proper etiquette for him to take you out to dinner and explain why he’s not in love with you? Is he going to break up with you?

What does one even wear to a breakup date?

“Okay,” you whisper. Your eyes sting, your everything stings, like you’ve been wrapped in a shroud of briar. Sheets that were soft a moment ago feel like sandpaper on open wounds. You feel like an open wound. 

Spencer sighs. It’s a sound of relief that confuses and hurts you even more. 

“Okay. I—okay. Thank you. Um—I’ll let you go back to sleep, now.”

“Okay,” you repeat—as if any of this were okay. But you can’t keep being that stupid girl who feels it all so much harder, who loves easily and begs to be loved in return, too naive to assume that someone who treats her so kindly might not reciprocate her feelings. It has to be okay, because if it’s not, you’re silly and dramatic and you’re just proving him right. 

“Goodnight,” Spencer whispers, and you can’t help but feeling that it’s the last time you’ll ever hear those words from his mouth while you’re in his bed. And he’s not even fucking here.

So you pull the blanket a little higher. You let your tears stain his pillow because they’ll be invisible by the morning. It will be like they were never here. Like you were never here. 

“Goodnight.”

-

part five

[dearhargrove]

Hi there! I have an eddie diaz request please. I don't know if you've seen the boyfriend door lean on tiktok but I was thinking eddie either comes across it and tries it on reader to see if it works (reader is a bookworm) or he does it without knowing what it is and reader melts (in either scenario) and she explains and shows it to him and he says he'll have to do it more often? All cute fluffy and adorable if you can please. Thank you!!

summary Eddie finds out about the 'door frame lean' thing on tiktok and tries it on you.

word count 950

tags fluffy and a bit spicy, Chris!!, Eddie's a menace

a/n hope I did this request justice because I absolutely adore that idea! Need someone to do this for me? Also Eddie would most definitely do this at any chance after realising how it had you going crazy 😭 I used this tiktok as a reference by the way!

masterlist

You're sitting up against the headboard with your book in your hands and a glass of wine on the nightstand next to you, simply passing time until your boyfriend comes home from his 24 hour shift.

You're almost done with it when you hear the front door open and close, a bag being dropped on the floor and shoes messily discarded next to the shoe rack (it seems no matter how many times you get mad at him for not putting his shoes away he forgets it and repeats the same mistake).

Moments later you see him walk along the hallway to your shared bedroom. His hair is messy instead of combed back like it was this morning when he'd made sure to ask you if it looked good, and the exhaustion is clear on his face.

You close your book after putting the bookmark between the pages you were reading and look at him with a smile that he easily reciprocates.

“Rough shift?” you move off the bed and walk to lean against the door frame as he approaches. “Yeah. People are stupid,” you chuckle and he stops in front of you, reaching his left hand up and placing it on the door frame and easily leaning his head down to look at you.

You're entirely caught off guard, not sure whether to look into his eyes or focus on the fact that this position was very flattering on his biceps. You swallow nervously which he catches and tilts his head with a small smirk.

“What? Why do you look nervous, amor?” He asks huskily and puts his other hand on your waist. That's just about your last straw and you fluster and look away, “Uh, no, just- how was your shift?”

He laughs and lets go of the door frame to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you closer until he can reach your neck and bury his face in it. You're pretty sure he can feel your pulse being abnormally high from where he'd placed his head, so in hopes of not making him aware of how crazy this entire situation had you going you bury your hands in his hair and gently scratch his scalp. Something you knew would make him melt any time you did it.

He grunts and his arms tighten around your waist, fingers pressing into the middle of your lower back. “Fuck,” he mumbles, “That feels good.”

Your whole ruse to distract him backfired because he just kept getting more sexy and you're pretty sure he either knew exactly what he was doing or was totally unaware of the effect this whole interaction was having on you.

“Dad, you're home!” Chris distracts both of you and Eddie kisses your pulse point and squeezes your waist again before crouching down to lift Chris into his arms and hug him tight. “Hey, buddy. Aren't you supposed to be asleep? It's almost nine thirty.”

You watch them and take the moment to gather your wits again because, oh my god. You'll never be able to read about the door frame lean in a book again without thinking about this.

Later that night when you're both in bed, his head placed on your chest as he patiently waits for you to finish reading the chapter so you could play with his hair, he looks up at you, “I didn't actually believe that door frame thing would work.”

Your jaw drops and you look at him with furrowed brows, “What do you mean?”

“That.. what's it called? Booktok. Buck was talking about it because he thought it was funny and mentioned how I should know what that is since you read so much. I didn't so I looked it up. Who knew you'd fold so easily?” He teases and you glare at him in slight embarrassment and take your hand from his hair.

“Stop teasing me about it.” He laughs and shakes his head, “Never. You looked way too cute, though I almost got worried with how high your pulse was getting…”

You gasp and flick his forehead with your index finger, about to throw some insult at him when the door opens and Christopher stands in the doorway.

Eddie sits up and you put your book on the nightstand, “Chris? Everything okay, love?” You ask and he pouts. “Nightmare. Can I sleep here tonight?”

You look at Eddie with a worried expression and he slightly shrugs but scoots to the side to make space for the ten year old. He crawls into the middle of you and you pull the blanket up to his shoulders. He looks at you with big eyes and you smile, knowing what he wanted, before carding your hand through his hair. He hums happily and Eddie looks at you slightly offended, “He's stealing your attention.”

You snort and roll your eyes, “You can wait until he's asleep.” Chris grins happily at his father and then at you. “I'm cuter anyway,” Eddie gasps and you laugh as the two banter.

One look at the clock though and you're shushing them both with a forehead kiss, “Alright now, time to sleep.” Eddie looks happy with himself, taking that as him getting all your attention now and you raise one eyebrow, “You too.”

Chris giggles and then settles down, same as Eddie after he scowls at you. You click off the small lamp on your nightstand and see Chris already snoozing with Eddie watching him fondly.

Placing your hand in Eddie's hair instead you whisper ‘I love you’ which he repeats and puts his arm over Chris to put his hand on your hip, falling asleep not long after.

[mononijikayu]

pretending as always — ryomen sukuna.

"Sukuna." you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. "Do you ever think about us? About how things used to be?" He didn’t answer right away, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as if the answer was written somewhere in the shadows. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost resigned. "Things change. People change." "I know, I know." you replied, your fingers tracing the outline of his hand resting on your waist. "But I miss it. I miss us. The way we were before… everything."

GENRE: alternate universe - modern au!;

WARNING/S: angst, toxic romance, hurt/no comfort, cheating, unhappy marriage, crying, hurt, sadness, pain, character death, grief, unhappy ending, depictions of broken marriage, depiction of grief, depiction of cheating, depiction of death, depiction of loneliness, mention of grief, mention of misery, mention of loneliness, cheating husband! sukuna, long suffering wife! reader;

WORD COUNT: 10k words

NOTE: the thought bubble says 'things change, people change.'; the playlist for this chapter alone was just so angsty. like from i'm not the only one to glimpse of us, i really went through it writing this. i decided to write only one sad fic because i feel like putting out casual, together and thirty nine almost at the same time was just really criminal of me to do. so i hope you enjoy this, though!!! i love you all <3

masterlist

kayu's playlist - side 900;

if you want to, tip! <3

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ANOTHER HUFF RELEASES FROM YOUR MOUTH. You don’t remember how many you’ve smoked today. But you were sure that it was beyond one pack. This was the only time you could be alone, to think for yourself. To have control. The control you’ve been craving for years and years, one that you will never truly have again. You didn’t need someone to see you out here, to tell you no, to worry about your health. You didn’t need that. Not right now. You needed to be alone. You needed silence. 

You sat on the balcony of your lavish penthouse, gazing out at the shimmering lights of Tokyo. The city was alive, vibrant, a testament to the empire your husband, Ryomen Sukuna, had built. He was the man behind the biggest conglomerate in Japan—a titan in the world of business, feared and respected in equal measure. And you were his wife. 

Once upon a time, you had been someone too. A doctor with a promising career, surrounded by friends, fulfilled by the life you had created with your own hands. Your days were spent saving lives, making a difference, and your nights were filled with laughter and tenderness with colleagues who had become family. You were driven, passionate, and proud of the work you did. But now, as you sat in the lap of luxury, the woman you once were seemed like a distant memory.

Now, you were just his wife. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t love him—you did. You loved him more than words could express. Sukuna was everything to you, and being his wife brought a kind of happiness you hadn’t known was possible. Yet, there was a gnawing emptiness, a void that had grown over the years. As much as you loved him, as much as he adored you in his own way, you knew the truth.

Ryomen Sukuna was not a man who could be kept down, not even for you. He was a force of nature, unstoppable, always striving for more, always looking beyond what he already had. His ambition was a double-edged sword, driving him to unimaginable heights but also pushing him further away from the simple life you sometimes yearned for. 

There were nights when he didn’t come home, when he was out sealing deals or attending extravagant parties where you were merely an accessory. You’d watch him from a distance, surrounded by admirers, his presence commanding attention wherever he went. He thrived in that world of power and influence, and you knew that no matter how much he loved you, that world would always be his first love.

You tried to be content with the life you had with him. After all, you had everything most people could only dream of—wealth, status, and the affections of a man who could have had anyone but chose you. But deep down, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had lost yourself in the process. You weren’t the doctor anymore, the woman with her own dreams and aspirations. You were simply Mrs. Ryomen Sukuna, a title that came with its own set of expectations and sacrifices.

As the night grew darker, you wondered what it would take to feel like yourself again. Could you ever reclaim the life you had before Sukuna, or had you given up too much to ever go back? And if you did, would you lose him in the process? It was a question that haunted you, even as you curled up in the luxurious sheets of your bed, waiting for him to return home. You loved him. But sometimes, love wasn’t enough.

Your husband was a man to love—eccentric and electric, a living embodiment of wonder wrapped in the form of a man. His presence was magnetic, a force that drew people in, leaving them captivated by his every word, his every move. Ryomen Sukuna was a personality larger than life, his energy palpable, his enigma undeniable. He filled every room he entered, his laughter loud and contagious, a stark contrast to his own brother, Jin, who was quiet, composed, and unassuming.

Where Jin blended into the background, Sukuna demanded attention. Everyone who met him felt the spark, the electricity that seemed to radiate from him. He was unpredictable, always a step ahead, always thinking of the next big thing. His mind worked in ways that left others in awe, trying to keep up with the whirlwind that was his thoughts and ideas. Loving him was like holding onto a storm—thrilling, dangerous, and consuming.

But for all his vibrance and charm, Sukuna was still a man of cold realities. His work came first, always. No matter how much you wanted to be his priority, the empire he built was what he poured most of his energy into. He was often distant, consumed by the responsibilities that came with being the man at the top. Days would pass where you barely saw him, where his presence in your life felt more like a memory than a reality.

Yet, when he did give you his time, it was genuine and honest. Those rare moments were when you saw the man beneath the mask, the one who cared for you in his own complicated way. His touch was real, his words sincere, and in those fleeting minutes, you felt the depth of his love, even if it was buried under layers of ambition and duty.

There were nights, though, when he would come to bed, slipping under the covers beside you, and in those moments, he was truly yours. Those were the times you held onto, the nights where the world outside his office door ceased to exist, where the only thing that mattered was the feel of his warmth next to you.

His arm around your waist, his breath on your neck—these were the small, intimate moments that made the loneliness bearable. In the quiet of the night, Sukuna would pull you close, and for those few hours, he was just a man who loved his wife, not the untouchable titan he had become during the day.

But as the dawn approached, you knew he would slip away again, back into the world that demanded so much of him. Those nights were a bittersweet reminder that while he was yours, you would never fully have him. Still, you cherished them, holding onto the hope that maybe one day, the man who captivated the world would find his way back to you, not just in the shadows of the night, but in the light of day as well.

If you tried slyly, you could sometimes extract details about his life—small, fragmented pieces of the puzzle that was Ryomen Sukuna. A hint here, a passing comment there. But even after so many years of marriage, he wouldn’t budge.

He was a vault, his thoughts locked away in a place you couldn’t reach, no matter how hard you tried. There were times you sat across from him, watching his expressions, hoping to catch a glimpse of what was going on behind those sharp eyes, but he was impenetrable. You didn’t know what he was thinking half the time. 

And as the years passed, you began to realize a painful truth: you didn’t know this man anymore. He wasn’t the man you fell in love with, the one who had promised you the world with that charming smile and infectious energy. That man was a memory, fading with every passing day. The man you were married to now was a stranger, someone who wore Sukuna’s face but carried a weight and distance that hadn’t been there before. He was no longer wholly yours, not anymore.

But when he was—on those rare occasions when he let you in, when the walls came down just enough for you to feel the warmth beneath his cold exterior—those moments were everything. His exterior remained hard, a shield against the world and perhaps even against you, but in the quiet darkness of your bedroom, he softened.

The bed you shared became a pure and sacred shrine, a place where the outside world couldn’t reach, where only you and he existed. In that space, the burdens he carried were set aside, and for a fleeting moment, he was just a man, your husband, the one who still held pieces of your heart.

The warmth of his body against yours, the way he would pull you close as if you were his anchor—these were the moments that reminded you of the love that still lingered between you. It was as if, in that bed, time stood still, and the distance that had grown between you disappeared, leaving only the two of you, as you once were.

And though those moments were few and far between, they were enough to keep you holding on, hoping that perhaps, one day, the man you fell in love with would return to you, not just in the night, but in every aspect of your life together.

You lay beside him in the dark, feeling the weight of the silence between you. His arm was draped over your waist, his grip firm but gentle. It was one of those rare nights when he was fully present, when the business world he ruled seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you. You turned slightly, your face inches from his, searching his eyes for something—anything—that might bridge the gap that had grown between you.

"Sukuna." you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. "Do you ever think about us? About how things used to be?"

He didn’t answer right away, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as if the answer was written somewhere in the shadows. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost resigned. "Things change. People change."

"I know, I know." you replied, your fingers tracing the outline of his hand resting on your waist. "But I miss it. I miss us. The way we were before… everything."

His eyes finally met yours, and for a moment, you saw something flicker there—regret, maybe, or a trace of the man you once knew. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by that familiar unreadable expression.

"I’m still here. I always have been." he said, his tone matter-of-fact. "I never left. And you know that."

"Physically, yes, I know. But I just….It’s just." you murmured, a hint of bitterness creeping into your voice. "Sukuna, it’s like I don’t know you anymore. You’re not the man I married. You’re not the man who promised me the world. And I don’t know where he is. And I want him back.”

He didn’t flinch, but you felt the slight tension in his arm as he pulled you a little closer. "The world isn’t what it used to be. It won’t ever be what it was, you know that." he replied quietly. "And neither am I. And you know that too. But I’m still here. I’m still your husband.”

You sighed, feeling the tears prick at the corners of your eyes. "But when you’re here, like this… it’s different. For just a moment, it feels like nothing’s changed. Like it’s just you and me, the way it used to be. I wish we could stay here, like this, forever."

He didn’t respond right away, but you felt his grip on you tighten, his thumb brushing softly against your skin as if to reassure you. "This bed, our bed…." he said slowly, his voice rougher than usual, "it’s our sanctuary. It’s the one place I can forget about everything else. But you know I can’t stay here forever. Not when the world calls me, not when it needs me.”

"I know that." you whispered, your voice cracking slightly. You needed him too. You needed your husband. And he will never see it. Not even when he tries. "But I can’t help wishing you would. That maybe, just once, you’d choose me over everything else. Like you used to.”

He was silent for a long moment, his breath warm against your hair. When he finally spoke, there was a softness in his voice that you rarely heard. "If I could, I would. You’re the only thing that keeps me grounded, that reminds me I’m still human. But I can’t give you all of me. Not anymore. I have things to do too.”

You closed your eyes, letting the tears fall silently. "I just wish… I wish you’d let me in, Sukuna. I want to know what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling. I want to know the man I’m sharing this bed with."

He didn’t answer right away, and you knew he wouldn’t. Instead, he pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your forehead in a rare, tender gesture. "I’m here now, you know?" he whispered. "Let’s just… stay in this moment, just for tonight."

You nodded, unable to find the words to say anything more. You clung to him, holding onto the warmth of his body, the rare softness of his embrace, knowing that when morning came, he would be gone again—pulled back into the world that demanded so much of him. But for now, you had this, and it would have to be enough.

It sounds more romantic than it actually is in reality. What you shared with Sukuna was far from the idyllic love story others might imagine. It was a volatile existence, a solitary one. A lonely existence. There were no whispered secrets in the dark, no playful banter or stolen glances across the room. There were no soft gazes filled with unspoken affection, no tender moments that lingered long after they ended. With Sukuna, you got the raw, unfiltered version of him—a man stripped of any pretense or facade.

Sukuna was not a man of many words, and that held true even during the most intimate moments between you. He was silent, his focus intense, his mind seemingly elsewhere even as he was with you. There were no sweet nothings exchanged, no promises of forever whispered into your ear. He was a man of action, not words, and even less so when you were in bed together.

Yet, despite the lack of verbal communication, there was one thing he always maintained—eye contact. His gaze never wavered, never strayed from yours, and in those moments, you saw something in his eyes that you rarely saw anywhere else. His eyes were earnest, and that sincerity was the closest thing to vulnerability he ever allowed himself to show. It was as if, in those brief moments of connection, he was telling you without words what he couldn’t bring himself to say aloud.

But even that small comfort was fleeting, a temporary solace in a relationship that often felt more like a battle than a partnership. You loved him, but it was a love laced with pain and longing, a love that left you feeling more alone than ever. Because while his eyes might have been honest, they also held a distance that you couldn’t bridge, a reminder that even in his most vulnerable moments, Sukuna was still just out of reach.

So you took what you could get—the warmth of his body against yours, the rare tenderness in his gaze—and tried to ignore the aching loneliness that gnawed at you in the silence that followed. Because at the end of the day, you knew that this was the only version of Sukuna you would ever truly have. And for better or worse, you had to make peace with that.

You lay there in the quiet aftermath, your body still humming from the intensity of it all. But as the warmth began to fade, reality seeped back in. The silence between you was heavy, filled with all the things left unsaid. There was no gentle touch, no soft embrace to pull you closer. Sukuna remained beside you, but there was a distance, an unspoken barrier that kept you apart even when you were lying inches away from each other.

This was your life—a series of fleeting connections punctuated by long stretches of solitude. You had learned to navigate this existence, to find comfort in the small moments, even if they were far from the grand romance you had once imagined. But it was a lonely existence, one that often left you feeling hollow, as if a piece of you had been carved out and left behind somewhere along the way.

There was no pillow talk with Sukuna, no lingering in the soft afterglow. Not like it used to be, when you greeted the morning light talking and talking. The man beside you was not one for such things. He was not the type to reach out and hold you close, to whisper sweet reassurances that everything would be okay. He simply wasn’t built that way, and you had long since stopped expecting him to be.

Instead, there was just the raw version of him—the man who was silent in his love, who showed it in ways that were hard to decipher, in ways that often left you questioning if it was there at all. His love wasn’t gentle or easy; it was fierce, consuming, and at times, almost indifferent. But it was there, hidden beneath layers of responsibility, power, and the iron will that had made him who he was.

Sukuna’s eyes were the only place where you could see that truth, where you could catch a glimpse of the man beneath the exterior. Even during sex, when his body was moving against yours with a deliberate intensity, his eyes stayed locked on yours, never wavering.

There was something disarming in that gaze, something that spoke of an honesty he couldn’t express any other way. It was in those moments, brief as they were, that you felt a connection, a thread of intimacy that tied you to him, even if it was fragile and frayed.

But as much as you clung to those moments, they were never enough to fill the void. The bed, which had once felt like a sanctuary, now seemed more like a cold, empty place where two strangers shared space but not lives. You would turn to face him, hoping for something—a word, a touch, anything to bridge the gap—but he remained still, his mind already miles away, lost in thoughts you could never reach.

And so you would close your eyes, trying to hold onto the fleeting warmth of his body next to yours, trying to convince yourself that this was enough, that you could live with the silence, the loneliness, the distance. Because at the end of the day, he was still the man you loved, the man who had once promised you the world.

But that promise had faded, just like the warmth that now ebbed away in the cold, empty silence of the room. And as much as it hurt, you knew that this was all there would ever be—a man you could never fully have, a love that was always just out of reach, and a life lived in the spaces between what was and what could have been.

You cry a lot about how life has let you suffer this way. The tears come in waves, usually in the quiet hours of the night when the weight of it all feels too heavy to bear. You cry for the life you thought you would have, for the love that feels like it's slipping through your fingers, for the man who promised you everything but gave you only fragments. The pain of it all has become a constant companion, a dull ache that lingers even in your happiest moments, because you know, deep down, that things will never be what you once dreamed they could be.

You knew about the women. You’ve always known. The whispers that reached your ears, the subtle changes in his demeanor, the way he would smell of a perfume that wasn’t yours. You knew about the women he took to hotels, the ones he wined and dined in the finest restaurants, the ones he spoiled with gifts and attention that you used to believe were reserved for you alone. You knew about the strip clubs, the fleeting kisses at bars, the meaningless trysts that filled the void you couldn’t seem to reach.

But knowing and seeing were two different things.

The image before you feels like a knife to the gut, twisting with a cruel precision. She’s beautiful, laughing at something Sukuna has whispered into her ear. They’re sitting too close, his hand resting on her thigh as though it belongs there.

His expression is relaxed, the mask he wears with you completely gone. This is who he really is, you think to yourself. You could feel this bitter realization curling in your chest. You feel like you were going to be sick.

For a moment, your legs threaten to give way beneath you. The restaurant is dimly lit, the low hum of conversation and clinking silverware suddenly drowned out by the rush of blood in your ears. You’ve been here before. It’s one of his favorites—one you thought was yours too, where he used to look at you with that same easy smile.

Your heart hammers against your ribs, urging you to flee, to turn away before the pain can deepen. You take a step back, and then another, the darkness of the entrance swallowing you whole as you move further from the scene. It’s as if you’re in a dream, your body moving on autopilot, one step after another, until you’re out on the street, the cool night air hitting your skin like a jolt.

You keep walking, eyes unfocused, the city lights blurring into a haze of colors. The truth is, you don’t know where you’re going. All you know is that you can’t stop moving. Because if you stop, if you allow yourself to think, to feel, the walls you’ve built around your heart will collapse, and you’ll be left with nothing but the agony of what you’ve lost. Or perhaps, of what you never truly had.

You knew everything. And yet, you pretended as always, especially when he came home. Because he always did. No matter how many nights he spent in the arms of someone else, no matter how many times he broke your heart with his affairs, he always came home to you. And you clung to that, as painful as it was, because it was the one thing you had left—the knowledge that, for whatever reason, he chose to come back to you.

You knew everything. And yet, you pretended as always, especially when he came home. Because he always did. No matter how many nights he spent in the arms of someone else, no matter how many times he broke your heart with his affairs, he always came home to you.

And you pathetically clung to that, as painful as it was, because it was the one thing you had left—the knowledge that, for whatever reason, he chose to come back to you. That he'll always choose to come back to you. And only you.

The sound of his key turning in the lock was your cue to slip the mask into place, smoothing out the cracks in your facade. You could hear the soft rustle of his coat as he shrugged it off, the faint smell of that foreign perfume clinging to the air. It was like a slap in the face, but you swallowed the bitterness down, forcing yourself to stay calm.

“Hey.” he called out, his voice casual, as though nothing were amiss. As though he hadn’t just spent hours with someone else.

“Hey.” you replied, keeping your tone light, as if you hadn’t been waiting in silence, wondering who he was with, what she looked like, if she made him laugh the way you used to.

He stepped into the room, his gaze brushing over you, taking in the sight of you curled up on the couch with a book in your hands. It was a scene of domestic tranquility, one you’d perfected over the years. You’d become a master at hiding the turmoil beneath the surface, at pretending that everything was fine.

“How was your night?” you asked, the words slipping out easily, as if they weren’t laced with the weight of unspoken truths.

“Busy.” he replied, moving toward you. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to lean into him, to savor the warmth of his presence. This was the part you held onto—the part where he came home, where he chose you, if only for a few fleeting hours. “Did a lot of meetings. It was dull. Like always.”

But even as he pulled away and headed to the bedroom, you couldn’t help but feel the coldness seep back in, the emptiness that settled in the pit of your stomach. You knew he’d be gone again tomorrow, off to chase whatever thrill he found in the arms of someone else. 

Still, you clung to that tiny thread of hope, the one that told you he would return. Because as long as he came home, as long as he kept choosing you, there was a part of you that could pretend—pretend that it was enough, that you were enough. You knew that you were tearing yourself apart. Apart from this man. But you were stuck. You didn’t know how to get out. Not when you can’t bear separation.

It was a cruel cycle, one that left you feeling shattered and hollow, but one you couldn’t break free from. You pretended because it was easier than confronting the truth, easier than acknowledging that the man you loved was also the man who was tearing you apart. You pretended because you wanted to believe that, despite everything, there was still something left between you, something worth holding on to.

Because as much as he hurt you, as much as he used other women to fill whatever void he was running from, you knew one thing with absolute certainty: he loved you. He might have been distant, cold, and unfaithful, but that love was there, buried beneath the layers of deceit and betrayal. It was a twisted, painful love, one that hurt more than it healed, but it was real. And that’s what made it so hard to walk away.

He loved you, and it hurt you. It hurt because that love wasn’t enough to stop him from seeking out others, from indulging in pleasures that had nothing to do with you. It hurt because that love didn’t protect you from the heartache, didn’t shield you from the loneliness that came from sharing a bed with someone who was only half there.

But it was love nonetheless, a sick, unadulterated, gut-wrenching love you can never truly escape even if you wanted to. and you clung to it with everything you had, because without it, you weren’t sure who you would be anymore.

So you cried, and you pretended, and you waited for him to finish his shower, knowing that when he did, you would smile, you would act as if nothing was wrong, as if your heart wasn’t breaking a little more each day. Because you loved him, too, and that love was the only thing holding you together, even as it threatened to tear you apart.

The stairs creaked with every step, and you quickly wiped the tears from your cheeks, forcing yourself to take a deep breath. You knew the routine by now—how to mask the pain, how to put on a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. The sound of his footsteps echoed through the steps, and you braced yourself, slipping into the role you had perfected over the years. He’d gotten out of the shower and dressed.

Sukuna walked back into the living room, his presence filling the space like a storm cloud. He glanced at you briefly, his expression unreadable as he walked in front of you. You could still smell the faint scent of a perfume that wasn’t yours, the remnants of a night you knew all too well. It was as if he was mocking you. It was as if he wanted you to know.  But you didn’t say anything. You never did.

“Did you have dinner yet?” you ask him, your voice steady despite the tightness in your chest. “There’s still some soba I made for dinner.”

He hums in response, reaching for your hand, his touch warm but somehow distant. “Maybe later, I’ll heat it up myself. Let me stay here with you for a bit.”

You nod, pretending to be satisfied with his answer, even though you know it’s a lie. “Okay, that’s fine.”

You make some space for him to sit beside you, but instead, he lowers his head onto your lap, his body stretching out along the couch. The gesture is familiar, almost comforting, but tonight, it feels like a weight pressing down on your chest. You feel the bile rise in your throat as he closes his eyes, humming softly to himself, as if this moment is as peaceful for him as it is tormenting for you.

You force your fingers to move, to edge along the tips of his fuchsia-colored hair, the strands soft beneath your touch. The motion is automatic, a habit born from nights like these, where you pretended that everything was still okay. But as you purse your lips into a tight line, trying to keep your composure, you feel the tears threatening to spill over, the pain clawing at the walls you’ve built around your heart.

Not now, you tell yourself. Not now. You can’t break, not here, not while he’s with you.

You swallow hard, pushing down the surge of emotions that threaten to rise to the surface, and speak in a voice you barely recognize as your own. “You worked hard.”

He opens his eyes, his gaze meeting yours in the dim light of the room. “So did you.” he whispers, his tone soft, almost tender.

His words, if they were meant to comfort you, only deepen the ache inside you. You bite down on the inside of your cheek, forcing a small, hollow smile as you continue to stroke his hair. Because that’s all you can do—pretend that this moment is enough, that his presence here is enough to make up for all the nights he’s been away, all the lies you’ve told yourself just to keep going.

He closes his eyes again, sighing softly, and you watch him, your fingers never faltering in their gentle rhythm. And as you sit there, with his head in your lap and the soba cooling on the kitchen counter, you realize that this is what you’ve become—someone who is willing to live in the spaces he leaves behind, someone who clings to the small moments he offers, even when they’re built on a foundation of lies.

“I missed you, Sukuna.” you whispered, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to keep it steady.

“I know.” he replied to you, in a tone that knows. A tone that reveals it all. He knew that you know, you weren’t a fool. You were too smart for it. And yet, here you are. With him, his lying, selfish self, loved by you. “I’m here now.”

You nodded, knowing that was the most you would get from him. “I’m glad you’re home.”

He didn’t respond, but you could feel the tension in his body slowly easing, his breathing becoming more relaxed. You knew this was as close as he would come to letting you in, and you tried to take comfort in it, even though it wasn’t enough.

You lay there in silence, your hand still resting on his chest, listening to the rhythmic sound of his breathing. You wanted to say more, to tell him how much it hurt, how much you wished things could be different. But you knew it wouldn’t change anything. He would always come home, but he would never truly be yours.

So you stayed quiet, pretending for him, for yourself, for the fragile love that still tied you to him, even as it slowly unraveled. You pretended that this was enough, that the fleeting moments of closeness were worth the nights spent alone, the tears shed in silence, the knowledge that he would never be wholly yours.

And in the dark, as you lay beside him, you let yourself believe the lie, if only for a little while. Because sometimes, pretending was the only thing that kept you going.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

EVERYTHING CHANGED WHEN YOU HEARD THOSE WORDS. The doctor's words echoed in your mind as you drove home, your knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel. "A few months, at most," he'd said, and you'd nodded, thanked him even, before walking out of the clinic in a daze. The sky outside seemed unchanged, the world continuing its indifferent spin, while inside you, something had irrevocably shifted.

When you finally made it home, you sat down, the weight of everything settling onto your shoulders like a heavy blanket. The familiar surroundings seemed distant, like you were seeing them through a fog. The elegant decor, the soft lighting—everything was perfect, just as it always was, but it felt like a set piece now, like something you were watching from afar.

You tried to think of what you should do next, what anyone would do with such news. Should you cry? Scream? But nothing came. Instead, a strange sense of calm washed over you, like the stillness after a storm. Maybe this was it—God's way of freeing you from this misery, this life you’d never truly lived.

A miserable existence, that’s what it was. A life spent in the shadow of Ryomen Sukuna, the man who was everything to everyone, and nothing to you. The man who had captured your heart and soul, only to lock them away somewhere deep inside, where they withered, starved of the love you so desperately needed. You’d given everything to be his wife, to play the part in the perfect narrative he’d constructed, and in the process, you’d lost yourself.

The relief that bubbled up inside you was unexpected, but undeniable. You wouldn’t have to suffer much longer. No more pretending, no more aching for a love that would never be yours. No more nights spent staring at the ceiling, wondering why you weren’t enough. Soon, it would all be over. You wouldn’t have to endure this life, this love, for much longer.

You decided then and there—you wouldn’t tell him. What would be the point? He was a man consumed by his empire, by his power, and you were just another piece of his world, another part of his success. Telling him would only disrupt the perfect narrative he had written for himself, and you couldn’t bear to see the indifference in his eyes when he realized that your story was ending.

No, you would continue to be his wife. You would play your part until the very end, letting yourself fade quietly from the narrative, just as you had faded from his heart. And maybe, when it was all over, when you were gone, he might feel something—a twinge of regret, perhaps. But that didn’t matter. Not anymore.

In the stillness of your home, a peculiar sense of peace enveloped you. The silence was heavy, but it was a silence of your own making, one that spoke of an end and a release. You had loved Sukuna with a depth that was both profound and consuming. Your love for him was a force that had shaped your days and your nights, driving you to care for him in ways that went unnoticed and unappreciated. 

But as you faced the reality of your impending departure, a bittersweet calm settled over you. The weight of your unrequited love, the fatigue of constantly giving without receiving, was finally lifting. You had poured your heart into a relationship where your love was met with indifference and infidelity. You had tried to make him see, tried to make him understand, but in the end, the love you gave was never truly reciprocated in the way you had hoped.

Now, as the days dwindle and the finality of your situation becomes undeniable, you found a strange comfort in knowing that the end was near. The thought of liberation from a love that had only ever been one-sided was both heart-wrenching and soothing. You were tired of the endless cycle of giving and waiting, of hoping for something that would never come. And in the quiet of your home, you felt a sense of relief at the prospect of being free from this endless cycle of emotional exhaustion.

That night, when Sukuna returned home, you greeted him with a facade of normalcy. Despite the heavy burden of your knowledge, you smiled at him with a warmth that belied your inner turmoil. You continued to dote on him, serving him his favorite dishes with the same loving care you always had. Every gesture, every touch, every look was a continuation of the role you had played for so long.

You carried on as if nothing had changed, maintaining the pretense of a happy, loving wife. Your actions were deliberate, a final testament to the depth of your love and the extent of your sacrifice. You wanted to give him one last glimpse of the love he had taken for granted, to remind him of what he would be losing, even if he would never fully grasp it until it was too late.

You went through the motions of daily life, engaging with him, listening to his stories, laughing at his jokes. The facade was not just for him, but for yourself as well—a way to preserve a semblance of normalcy amidst the chaos of your emotions. You wanted to leave him with the memory of a wife who had loved him deeply, who had cared for him until the very end, despite everything.

In the quiet moments alone, after he had gone to bed, you would sit in the darkness, feeling the weight of your impending departure. You would reflect on the years you had spent loving him, on the moments of joy and sorrow that had shaped your relationship. And as you faced the end, you found a strange sort of solace in knowing that you would finally be free from the constraints of a love that had never truly been mutual.

The peace you felt was not without pain, but it was a relief nonetheless. You had loved Sukuna with all that you were, and now, as you prepared to leave, you took comfort in the knowledge that you would soon be free from the sadness and longing that had defined your existence.

Sukuna looked up from his plate, his gaze lingering on you with a mixture of curiosity and concern. He could see a flicker of something in your eyes that he hadn’t seen in a long time.

“You seem... unusually happy tonight,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of both surprise and suspicion. “Is something going on?”

You met his gaze, a faint smile on your lips that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “It’s been a long time since we had a dinner like this, just the two of us.”

Sukuna’s brow furrowed as he studied you. “Yeah, it has. We’ve been so wrapped up in our own worlds that it’s easy to forget what it was like before everything got so complicated.”

You nodded, your fingers nervously twisting the edge of your napkin. “I’ve missed this—being with you like this, without all the distractions and complications. It feels like a rare moment of normalcy in the chaos.”

Sukuna’s expression softened, but there was an edge of concern in his eyes. “You seem more at peace than usual. Is everything okay? You’ve been acting... different lately.”

You hesitated, the weight of your secret pressing down on you. “I’ve just been reflecting on things. It’s strange how time changes everything, how we lose sight of what really matters until it’s almost too late.”

Sukuna’s gaze grew more intense, his unease palpable. “Reflecting on what? You’ve been acting like there’s something you’re not telling me.”

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to keep your voice steady. “It’s just... I’ve been thinking about how we’ve lost touch with each other. How we’ve let life get in the way of what really matters.”

Sukuna’s eyes searched for yours, trying to grasp the depth of your words. “Are you saying there’s something wrong? Something you’re not telling me?”

You looked away, your smile faltering. “It’s not about something wrong. It’s about realizing that sometimes, we need to appreciate the moments we have, even if they’re fleeting.”

Sukuna’s confusion deepened, his concern growing. “You’re scaring me. Why are you talking like this? What’s going on?”

You forced yourself to meet his gaze, your heart aching with the weight of the truth you couldn’t reveal. “I’ve just been feeling... reflective. It’s hard to explain, but I’m grateful for these moments, even if they’re all we have left.”

Sukuna reached out, his hand gently grasping yours. “Are you trying to tell me something? You’re acting like this is a goodbye.”

You pulled your hand away, the pain in your chest almost unbearable. “It’s not a goodbye. It’s just... a realization. I want to make the most of the time we have, to cherish these moments together.”

Sukuna’s face fell, his worry evident. “You’re making it sound like something terrible is happening. If there’s something you’re hiding, you need to tell me.”

You shook your head, forcing yourself to smile through the tears that threatened to spill. “It’s not about hiding anything. It’s about acknowledging that even when things are difficult, we can still find moments of happiness. I wanted tonight to be one of those moments.”

Sukuna looked at you with a mixture of sadness and confusion, his frustration clear. “You’re not making any sense. Why can’t you just tell me what’s going on?”

You stood up from the table, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze any longer. You smiled at him. And even at that moment, he noticed. He noticed it didn’t go up to your eyes. “I can’t. Not yet. I just needed you to understand that despite everything, I’ve always cherished our time together.”

Sukuna watched you with a heart heavy with concern and regret, as you walked away from the table. "Do you still want some wine?"

"No." Sukuna whispers under his breath. "I'm fine."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

YOU WERE GOOD AT PLAYING ROLES. Sukuna didn't suspect a thing. You continued playing your part, showing up at events, smiling when required, and being the perfect wife that the world expected you to be. He remained oblivious, too wrapped up in his own world to notice the subtle changes—the way your laughter had lost its warmth, the way your eyes seemed distant, even when you looked directly at him.

He carried on with his life, his empire growing ever larger, his influence spreading like wildfire. And on the side, there was her—the woman he met in secret, the one who made him feel alive in ways that you no longer could. He didn’t care to hide it anymore, not really. He knew you knew, but in his mind, it didn’t matter. You were his wife, his possession, and that was enough.

The restaurant was bathed in a warm, subdued light, its cozy ambiance a stark contrast to the storm brewing in Sukuna's heart. He sat across from his date, his smirk easy, a deliberate mask concealing the turbulent emotions beneath. His eyes roamed lazily over the flickering candlelight, his drink half-empty, the conversation flowing smoothly. It was supposed to be an escape, a fleeting distraction from the complexities of his life.

The phone buzzed on the table, its vibration slightly jarring against the relaxed hum of the evening. Sukuna glanced at it, a shadow of irritation crossing his features. He almost ignored it, but a nagging instinct—something primal and insistent—prompted him to check. The screen lit up with an urgent message, and as he read the words, his smirk faltered, replaced by a sudden, unsettling pallor.

His hand trembled slightly as he answered the call that followed.

“Mr. Sukuna, I’m terribly sorry to interrupt your evening. There’s been an emergency. Your wife—she’s collapsed and has been rushed to the hospital. The situation is very serious. You need to come immediately.”

Sukuna’s mind reeled, struggling to process the gravity of the message. His heart pounded furiously in his chest, a cacophony of fear and disbelief.  “What? No, that can’t be right. Are you sure? What happened?” His usual bravado turned into worrisome, strained whispers. “My wife was healthy when I left her at home.”

“Yes, I’m certain. She was rushed in a couple of minutes ago. The doctors are doing everything they can, but it’s critical. Please come to the hospital right away.”

The call ended abruptly, leaving Sukuna staring blankly at his phone. The realization of what he had just heard began to sink in, each beat of his heart echoing with a growing dread. Without a word, he stood up abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor.

“Suku? What’s going on? Where are you going?” Her face is a mask of confusion and concern. “Suku–”

 “I—I have to go. It’s an emergency.” His voice barely more than a whisper, laden with panic.

He didn’t wait for any further questions or explanations. His mind was a chaotic whirl of thoughts as he left the restaurant, the cool night air doing little to calm the storm inside him. The drive to the hospital was a blur, the city lights streaking by in a disorienting haze. Every turn, every red light seemed to stretch time, amplifying his growing sense of dread.

Inside the emergency room, the atmosphere was clinical and cold, a stark contrast to the warmth of the evening he had just left behind. The cacophony of beeping monitors and hurried voices created a symphony of chaos that matched his inner turmoil. He pushed past the reception desk, barely acknowledging the questions they asked him. All he could think about was reaching you, seeing you, and holding onto whatever fragments of hope remained.

“Sir, you need to wait here. We’re in the middle of an emergency procedure.” The nurse said firmly, as Sukuna tried to approach.

Sukuna’s eyes fixed on the form lying still on the gurney, a sight that twisted his insides with a profound ache. The resuscitation efforts were intense, a desperate dance between life and death. He felt a profound sense of helplessness, the cold efficiency of the medical staff contrasting sharply with his own emotional chaos.

 “Please, I need to be with her. I have to—” His voice breaking, a raw plea. “Please let me through—”

“Sir, we need to focus on the procedure. You can’t be in the way.”

Sukuna was forced to retreat, his heart sinking as he slumped against the wall, his fists clenched in frustration and fear. The minutes dragged on, each second feeling like an eternity. He stared at the closed doors of the emergency room, the gnawing fear that he might lose you forever consuming him.

In the cold, stark hallway of the hospital, Sukuna felt his world unraveling. The veneer of control and dominance he had always relied on was gone, replaced by a gut-wrenching vulnerability he had never before experienced. He was left alone with his thoughts, confronting the painful truth that he had been given a chance to face his own failures and regrets.

Everything they could, they tried—but it wasn’t enough. He could see it in their eyes, in the frantic movements that were becoming more desperate by the second. He shouted at them, his voice rising to a roar, demanding they do something, anything. He wasn’t used to feeling powerless, wasn’t used to being afraid. But in that moment, as he watched you lying there, unmoving, unresponsive, fear gripped him in a way it never had before.

He couldn’t lose you. Not like this. Not now, not when he’d taken you for granted for so long. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. You had always been there, always been his, and he’d never truly appreciated it. And now, as he watched the life drain from you, he felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time—genuine, bone-deep terror.

When the nurses finally stopped, when they turned to him with those solemn expressions, he knew. They didn’t have to say a word. He pushed past them anyway, falling to his knees beside your bed, his hand grasping yours, still warm but lifeless. You were slipping through his fingers. He didn’t want to free you — not yet. He needs you. He still wants you.

“Don’t do this, not yet.” he whispered, his voice breaking, something it never did. “You can’t leave me. You don’t get to leave me.”

But you were already gone. The silence in the room was deafening, and for the first time in his life, Ryomen Sukuna felt utterly and completely helpless. 

Sukuna stayed by your side long after the nurses and doctors left the room, long after the machines were turned off, and the sterile, mechanical sounds faded into an unbearable silence. He gripped your hand tightly, as if somehow, by sheer force of will, he could pull you back from the brink, undo what had just happened. But the truth was inescapable—you were gone.

The world outside continued to turn, indifferent to the agony that churned inside him. Sukuna, the man who had always been in control, who had never feared anything or anyone, was now paralyzed by a fear so intense it consumed him. He had never imagined a moment like this, a moment where he would lose something so irreplaceable.

Memories flashed through his mind—moments he had dismissed, overlooked, or taken for granted. The way you would smile at him when he came home, the quiet dinners you shared, the way you had always been there, even when he hadn’t deserved it. He had grown so used to your presence that he never considered what it would be like without you.

He had thought he could live his life as he pleased, that you would always be there, in the background, silently enduring whatever he put you through. But now, with you gone, the enormity of his loss hit him with full force. It wasn’t just that you were gone—it was that you were gone because of him. He had driven you to this, with his neglect, his infidelity, his arrogance.

His chest tightened, and for the first time in years, Sukuna felt the sting of tears. He couldn’t remember the last time he had cried—if he ever had. But now, the tears came unbidden, a raw and overwhelming response to the pain that was tearing him apart. He had lost you, and it was his fault. There was no one else to blame, no way to undo what he had done.

He thought about all the things he would never get to say to you, all the apologies that would never leave his lips. He had always believed he had time—time to make things right, time to explain, time to finally show you that you mattered to him. But now, that time was gone, and with it, any chance of redemption.

Sukuna stayed there, holding your hand, until the nurses gently told him that he had to let go, that it was time to say goodbye. He didn’t want to—he wasn’t ready to. But he knew there was no choice. Slowly, reluctantly, he released your hand, feeling a cold emptiness settle into the space where you had once been.

As he walked out of the hospital, the reality of his life without you began to sink in. The thought of returning to his grand, empty house—one that had always been a symbol of his success, his power—now felt like walking into a tomb. You were no longer there to greet him, no longer there to fill the space with your presence.

And for the first time, Sukuna understood what it meant to be truly alone. All the wealth, the power, the women—none of it mattered anymore. The one thing that had truly mattered was gone, and he was left with nothing but the echo of his own regrets.

As he stepped into his car, the weight of your absence pressed down on him, suffocating in its intensity. He had never been afraid of anything before. But now, as he faced a future without you, he was terrified.

Sukuna sat in the driver’s seat of his car, the door still open as if he might somehow find the strength to run back into the hospital and reverse what had happened. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles white, and the first sob broke through his defenses, ragged and harsh. He slammed his fists against the wheel, the sound echoing in the empty garage, the pain in his chest mirroring the bruising force of his punches.

Each hit was a release, a desperate attempt to rid himself of the unbearable grief and regret that had settled over him like a heavy fog. Tears streamed down his face, blurring his vision, and he felt a profound sense of helplessness that he had never known. He had always been in control, always been the one to dictate terms, to manipulate situations to his favor. But now, as he sat there, he was powerless, unable to change anything, unable to bring you back.

In the midst of his torment, memories began to flood back—painful, vivid recollections that he had buried under layers of indifference and self-absorption. He remembered the way you would spend hours in the kitchen, cooking meals with a dedication that went beyond mere obligation. You had always taken care of him, preparing dishes that you knew he loved, ensuring the fridge was stocked with his favorite foods.

He could picture you now, in the kitchen of your shared home, chopping vegetables, stirring pots, your face focused and serene. The way you’d hum softly to yourself, the warmth of the kitchen contrasting with the coldness that seemed to have crept into his heart over the years. Every meal you made was a labor of love, a testament to the care and consideration you had for him, even when he had taken it all for granted.

And then there were the times you’d prepare extra food, stock the fridge with ready-made meals, knowing that his schedule was unpredictable, that he might be too busy to eat properly. You’d filled the refrigerator with care, making sure he would have something to sustain him, even when you couldn’t be there. 

He should have noticed the subtle changes in your routine. The house had been unusually pristine lately, the surfaces spotless, the floors immaculate. It wasn’t like you to maintain such a high level of cleanliness without a reason. It was as if you had been preparing the space, ensuring that everything was in perfect order, as if you were orchestrating a smooth transition for him, even after you were gone.

The closets were tidier than usual, the clothes organized and neatly hung. He realized now that you had cleaned out your own belongings with quiet efficiency, not because you were preparing to leave in the conventional sense, but because you wanted to spare him the burden. You had sorted through your things, reducing the mess he would have to deal with, thinking ahead so that your death wouldn’t leave him grappling with the physical remnants of your life.

The laundry was always done, the baskets emptied and folded with a care that went beyond routine. You had taken care of it all, ensuring that he wouldn’t be confronted with chores and tasks that might remind him of the void you were leaving behind. The house had been more than just clean—it had been meticulously arranged to make his life easier, to ensure that the practicalities of your absence wouldn’t add to his grief.

In the midst of his grief, the realization struck him with the force of a revelation. You had been planning for this moment all along, your every action a carefully orchestrated preparation for the inevitable. You had thought of everything—how the house should be, how his daily life should continue without disruption, how he might cope with the void you would leave behind.

And yet, despite all your foresight, he had been so absorbed in his own world, so blind to your quiet efforts, that he hadn’t seen what you were doing. He had been wrapped up in his own needs, his own desires, oblivious to the depth of your sacrifice.

Now, as he sat there in the car, the weight of his regret felt almost unbearable. You had given him a gift of love so profound, so selfless, and he had only realized it in the harshest of moments. He had been given a chance to appreciate you, to see how deeply you cared, but it had come too late.

The house was prepared, the chores managed, the meals cooked—all to make sure that your departure wouldn’t add to his burden. And all he could do now was mourn the loss of someone who had loved him so completely, while he had remained unaware of the full extent of their care.

The realization hit him with a crushing weight. You had been preparing him—preparing him for a future without you. You had known, on some level, that your time was limited, and you had tried to make things easier for him, to ensure he wouldn’t be left entirely lost when you were gone. You had left behind a legacy of care and love, even in your absence.

The tears flowed more freely now, each one a testament to the depth of his regret. The sight of the empty kitchen at home, the pristine rows of shelves, the meticulously arranged pantry—all these things that once seemed so ordinary now felt like a poignant reminder of the love he had squandered. You had been his rock, his constant, and he had never truly valued it until it was too late.

Sukuna’s sobs grew louder, more desperate, his grief palpable in the confined space of the car. He felt as if he were drowning in a sea of his own making, surrounded by the memories of what he had lost and the realization of how profoundly he had failed you. The realization of your love, the sacrifices you had made, and the undeniable truth that he had only seen it all now, when it was too late, was a torment unlike anything he had ever known.

He sank forward, resting his head on the steering wheel, letting the tears fall harder than before, his body shaking with the intensity of his emotions. He wished he could turn back time, could undo the mistakes he had made, could tell you how much you meant to him. But all he was left with was the crushing weight of his actions, the echoes of your love, and the empty space where you once were.

[renee-writer]

April 15th Chapter Thirty-nine

AO3

They are allowed to bid farewell to Ian. 

 

“Dinna Fash, mo mhac. I have my life.” Jamie tried to hide his reaction to seeing his brother -in-law.

 

“Aye, and you are going home to help da look out for the lasses and children.” William tried to look on the bright side.

 

“Just so.” They don’t have long. The war doesn’t stop for goodbyes. “You take care of each other.” He swallows and hugs the neck of each man. “I shall tell your lasses how brave and braw you are.”

 

“Dinna tell them…” Jamie needn’t say more. Ian knows that some things should never be spoken about, not to the wives, anyway.

 

“Never.”

 

More hugs and Jamie and William return to the front while Ian starts on the way home.

 

Wartime plays havoc on the post delivery. Jenny receives nothing from His Majesty’s army or her husband. This makes his arrival an incredible surprise.

 

She is out hoeing the soil when a strange carriage pulls up. Shielding her eyes from the sun, she tries to see who it is. The hoe falls from her boneless hand when she recognizes her husband.

 

She almost falls over herself running to him. He is almost knocked down by her embrace.

 

“Oh my love, it is really you!” Punctuated by kisses., “I thought you dead. Had the strangest feeling whilst Claire was delivered of the twins,” more kisses, “ Something had happened.”

 

It comes to her slowly. He is here. Not in a wooden box, Praise God, but somehow injured. Injured to bad to keep fighting. They aren’t sending healthy man home.

 

“It is my leg, my heart. What is this about twins?”

 

They all sit around the great room. Ian is surrounded by his children and wife. His da sits near as well. 

 

“So I thought John in honor of you and Jamie’s mate.” Claire is explaining. He met and made a fuss over his new nephews. All made a fuss over him.

 

“It is perfect.”

 

“Did you kill lots of bad men?” Wee Ian looks at his dad with adoration.

 

“I did what I had to do, son.” His dad meets his eyes and nods.

 

“Daddy is alright, him and Uncle Jamie?” Hazel asks. He had told them all the status of his brothers-in-law but understood she needs reassurance.

 

“Aye lass, they are.”

[lemonlover1110]

𝐌𝐲 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝

Toji Fushiguro

[Chapter 1] Passionfruit

Story Masterlist - Next Chapter →

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Chapter Warnings: MDNI, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex (f. receiving), Vaginal Sex, Breeding Kink, Praising, Referenced Cheating (MEANING TOJI ONCE CHEATED ON READER AND IT'S TALKED ABOUT), Creampie, Sad Sex(womp womp)

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Getting married to Toji was the worst decision that you’ve ever made. You love him more than anything, yet he’s been the worst husband that you could’ve asked for. Your wedding day was the happiest day of your life, yet since that day, you haven’t been happy. You try to be shocked but since the beginning of your relationship, Toji told you that he wouldn’t be a great husband. 

You had dumb hopes, of course, that you could turn him into the perfect husband– Not necessarily perfect but at least a good one. You should’ve backed out on your plans the first month of your relationship, when you caught him in bed with another woman. But you were so into Toji back then that you managed to move past it, luckily, the incident never occurred again, and of course, he made it up to you. 

But Toji was never a great boyfriend though. He did the bare minimum every time, and you praised him for it. You don’t recall him even telling you that he loves you until your wedding day. To this day you don’t know why you stuck with him when the universe sent you a clear sign the first month of your relationship. You were still young, and even if you broke up with him you would have accomplished your five year plan in time.

You met Toji when you were twenty two and he was thirty four. He had a nine-year-old son and your first thought was no, you didn’t want to be a stepmother at such a young age. You just hooked up with him a couple times, and eventually you caught feelings. It was nothing too passionate, but you liked him enough to start a relationship with him, and to stay when he betrayed you early on.

By twenty four, you got engaged. You surprisingly didn’t have to ask him, he did it himself with no issue. He heard about your five year plan, married by twenty five, and he knew a wedding or at least the type you wanted, took at least a year to plan. Within a year, you were married.

You were getting cold feet on your wedding day, coming to the realization that Toji had never told you that he loved you. While he wasn’t a man that expressed his emotions, he surely would’ve told you that he loved you at least once, right? Toji heard you were getting cold feet, and he was at your door thirty minutes before the ceremony started.

“Isn’t this bad luck?” You asked him, unsure of what he was doing at your door. You didn’t really couldn’t stomach having a conversation with him. Toji looked as handsome as ever, it was the first time you’d ever seen him so dressed up. He shrugged.

“Heard that you were having second thoughts.” Toji began, and you crossed your arms. You couldn’t even look him in the eye. He cleared his throat before asking, “Care to explain?”

“Do you even love me, Toji? We’ve been in a relationship for three years, and you haven’t even told me that you love me. I do love you, Toji, but I don’t want to get married to someone who doesn’t love me.” You told him, and his brows raised. He took slow breaths, and you were on the verge of tears. You stumbled over your words as you continued, “Just please be honest with me, Toji. I can move on and start over, even if it’s hard at first.”

He took a couple steps toward you before his hands cupped your face. His lips met yours in a short but sweet kiss. He smiled at you before telling you, “Have I really not told you how much I love you?”

His words made you continue with the marriage, bringing you a sense of comfort and safety in your relationship. You weren’t so hesitant about being married, and the first month of your marriage you were genuinely happy– Until you weren’t.

Being a stepmother wasn’t hard. Megumi was a sweet child, only twelve when you got married to his father, but old enough to make his own decisions and to know right from wrong. You didn’t have to teach him anything, in fact, Toji asked you to stay out of that aspect of Megumi’s life. Unless Megumi did something that was clearly wrong, he didn’t want you to discipline his son. However, you never had any issues with Megumi.

You only ever had issues with Toji. The honeymoon stage is supposed to last longer than a month, but within a month Toji was dismissive of you. He was cold towards you, he didn’t bother communicating any issues. It felt like Toji was just using you to come home to a clean house, a cooked meal, and for sex. You tried to fix it many times, but he never bothered to change.

You weren’t treated like his wife. He couldn’t care about your interests, blamed any of the issues of your relationship on you, and what you found the worst, constantly compared you to his late wife. You were worried about that before you got married, and you expressed your concerns to him; sometimes it felt like he did it on purpose.

You had this concern that you never felt in your relationship, even after the incident of your first month together. He was cheating on you– He had to be. He came home late, and didn’t pay any attention to you. But you were proven wrong after you followed him around and he was just working. Simply working. He didn’t even look at another woman… It relieved you, and once again filled you with this sense of comfort in your marriage.

You were fine until he nearly forgot your twenty-sixth birthday, he only remembered at night, and your heart broke. But he was so loving towards you after he remembered, for a week, he treated you like his wife but things quickly went back to normal.

Dismissive, cold, reserved. 

But you still dealt with it because you loved him. Even when you constantly argued and he blamed every issue of your marriage on you. You were growing tired of it, and each time that he brought up her name, you threatened to leave. He didn’t take you seriously though. And you weren’t serious until your twenty-seventh birthday, when he completely forgot to congratulate you again. But this time it completely slipped. He came home late that night, but you didn’t get to see him because you had cried yourself to sleep.

You were the wife that he wanted for some time– Quiet. You didn’t bother talking about his day, asking if he liked dinner, if you were going to do anything special for the weekend (you never did but you always asked), you didn’t ask Megumi anything either. You mentally checked out of the relationship. Until you realized that you can’t live like this forever, just emotionally isolated while you played housewife. And now you’re sitting on the couch of your apartment, waiting for your husband to come home.

Your heart is almost beating out of your chest, your hands shaky and getting worse with each second that passes. He’ll get home at any minute now, and it’ll all be over. He won’t argue your request, Toji isn’t one to argue much. You’re usually the one that starts the arguments to actually communicate with him, but you won’t be arguing with him tonight.

“Why are you still awake?” Toji’s voice spooks you, you were so lost in your own thoughts of what will come next that you completely missed the sound of the front door opening. Toji furrows his eyebrow as he looks down at you. You blink slowly before shrugging, the same response he would’ve given you. You stand up, pointing to the coffee table where the divorce papers lay.

“I want a divorce.” You’re brief. Before you can see his reaction, you take off your engagement and wedding ring, setting them down on the coffee table beside the divorce papers. You go back to your bedroom, leaving him in the living room to process the news. You doubt he cares too much. 

“Are you sure you want this? A divorce?” He ends up following after you which surprises you. You get in bed, throwing the blanket over you. You don’t pay much attention to him before you respond,

“Yes. It’s what we both want.” You answer. He shakes his head. 

“It’s what you want because I don’t want a divorce.” He responds, and you raise your brows. You shake your head disapprovingly.

“Right… You’re right. Because with me you have a live-in maid.” You point out, your voice calm as ever. Toji blinks slowly, tilting his head to the side before he opens his mouth.

“Don’t I pay the bills?” He argues, making you get out of the bed. You can’t stay calm at this moment, even if you try.

“And you hold it over my head every damn day. I don’t even get an allowance to buy myself some clothes because all the money you have left over, you throw away gambling!” You raise your voice at him, so much pent-up anger slowly unleashing. “And I wouldn’t care too much about that if you gave me the place as your wife– You treat me as if I were your fucking servant.”

“What the hell? Since when do you care about that?” Toji asks, and you freeze in your spot. You end up laughing in disbelief because you can’t believe your own husband is saying that. He’s supposed to know you better than anyone. Yet he doesn’t seem to know you at all.

“Since always! I want to be loved, Toji, how do you not know that?” You sound defeated, and he’s stepping closer to you. You’re nearly crying, realizing how you’ve wasted your time. The man that stands in front of you doesn’t love you, he’s only with you because– You don’t even know why he’s with you. “What kind of wife doesn’t want to be loved?”

He cups your face, his thumb caressing your cheek. You’re getting lost in his eyes, and you have to force yourself to look away because it never ends well when you look into his eyes. You’re so fucking weak for him. You never thought you could love someone as much as you love Toji; at first you definitely didn’t think it’d be such a strong emotion since you didn’t care much for him at first but when you fell, you fell hard. You truly believe that the man that stands in front of you is the love of your life, yet you’re leaving him because you doubt that you’ll be able to be happy by his side.

It’s the worst kind of love. The one that makes you unhappy because you yearn for it to be reciprocated.

“Then let me love you, baby.” Toji says, his lips moving down to meet yours. You’re taken back, and even though you want to pull away you also want to stay like this forever. Instead of pushing him away, your hands meet behind his neck and pull him closer to you.

His tongue swipes on your lips before you part them to let his tongue meet yours. His hands move down your body, his fingertips like fire, arousing every inch of your body as they move down your skin. You should pull away since a strong sentiment takes over as you realize that this is the only way Toji knows how to love you, and you hate it. But you’ve melted into the kiss and you can’t pull away now.

Toji’s lifting up your nightgown, and the back of your mind is telling you to stop. You’re not listening though. You only ever pull away– You don’t pull away, Toji does. He kisses down your neck before focusing on that sweet spot on your neck that makes your knees weak. 

His finger hooks under your panties, and he begins to play with the waistband before he pushes them down to the floor. When he stops kissing your neck, his fingers go to the hem of your nightgown and he lifts it up. When he takes off your nightgown, he picks you up to put you down on the bed. His hands cup your face and he gently kisses your lips, and while he looks down at you, you’re thinking that maybe– No, no, nonononono you can’t be so weak. What are you even doing under him?

Just as you’re about to get up, his lips go on yours again. He caresses your cheek, “I really love you. So much.”

His lips kiss you again and then they move down. He kisses every inch of your body, “You’re so beautiful.”

“So fucking perfect.”

“You’re my perfect wife.” He praises you with each kiss to your body, and you can’t deny how you’re like putty under his touch. Toji seems to realize the grasp he has on you, that’s why he’s kissing every inch of your body so you won’t leave him. Toji isn’t always so loving with you as he is right at this moment. He presses one final kiss on your lower abdomen before he goes to your face. He kisses your lips again, “I love you so much.”

Your hands go to Toji’s tie, and you loosen it up. Toji takes it completely off and your fingers begin to unbutton his shirt. Toji takes off his shirt completely, tossing it aside. Your hands go up his torso, and you’re almost in disbelief that Toji manages to keep his build even after getting an office job. He kisses your lips one more time before kissing down your body once again, each kiss making your body crave for more. This time he gets lower than your lower abdomen.

Toji kisses your folds before his tongue runs through them. His tongue begins to flick your clit and your bottom lip is quivering before a soft moan finally leaves your lips. Toji’s tongue is slow but slowly picks up speed.

There’s nothing Toji loves more than the taste of you on his tongue, yet he rarely does it. It’s a treat for both you and him. He’s doing it to get you to stop, hoping that his tongue giving you pleasure is enough to stop the insanity that you want to ensue. 

Your voice is soft as you let your moans into the air. It doesn’t take long for pleasure to consume your mind since Toji knows how to use his tongue. He knows your body too well, and you know you’ll grow to hate it when you’re away from him, but right at this moment you love it more than anything.

His tongue moves down to your entrances, and he teases it. A low moan leaves your lips when his tongue enters your cunt, while his thumb begins to play with your clit. Your back is arching while your bite down on your lip. He’s making you feel so fucking good, but you have to be quiet. Megumi’s room might be on the other side of the apartment but you don’t wanna risk him listening to any of this.

Toji’s tongue moves in and out your cunt a couple of times before it goes back to your clit. You’ve always loved how Toji is always so determined to get you to come, even when you weren’t dating and you were just his hookup. This is one of those times that he won’t stop until you’ve climaxed.

He gets his index and middle finger wet enough before he pushes them inside you, causing your eyes to roll to the back of your head. He curves his fingers so they brush right against that sweet spot that’s enough to drive you wild. You fucking hate it so much– Not in the moment, in the moment you’re loving it; you absolutely hate it because you know it’ll make it hard to leave. But sex is not the only factor in a marriage. 

“Toji–” You moan. Your orgasm begins to approach, and it feels harder to hold back the noises that threaten to leave your lips. Your hands grip onto the bed sheets as your climax nears. Toji does such a great job, and if he wasn’t so focused on your cunt, he’d be praising you because you feel so nice around his finger and taste so good on his tongue. “Oh, fuck– I’m gonna…”

You stumble over your words until you finally reach your high, and God, the sound you make is like music to Toji’s ears. And while usually clarity hits you when you hit your orgasm, it doesn’t this time. He takes his fingers out of your cunt yet he continues flicking your clit until he’s had enough. When he’s finished, he kisses your clit and detaches himself from your cunt.

Toji stands up and unbuttons his pants. He pushes them down with his briefs. His arm goes under your back and he brings your back up, kissing your lips ever so lovingly, which is rare from Toji. Your legs wrap behind his back. One hand holds your back, forcing you to sit up, while the other strokes his cock a couple of times before he runs the tip through your folds.

“I love you so much, I really do.” Toji kisses the tip of your nose as his cock stretches you out. He’s making eye contact with you as his cock bottoms out, and you feel the tears that well your eyes. You wish it was of pleasure– While it does feel great, your tears are filled with sadness. Maybe he does love you.

A tear falls from your eye, streaming down your cheek and Toji doesn’t waste a second before he wipes it away. He kisses your lips and he begins to move, letting go of your back so you’re able to lay back down. “Will you stay with me, please? I need you.”

No, no he doesn’t. He doesn’t need you. He just doesn’t want to be alone. A need is something you need to live, and he clearly doesn’t need you. You bite down on your lip, looking away from Toji because just looking at him makes you want to burst into tears. 

“Please look at me.” Toji says, his hand going to your chin and moving your head so your eyes fall on him. He’s so… Perfect. Toji might have many imperfections, but in your eyes he’s perfect. That’s why you’ve stayed for so long. You will never find someone as perfect as he is. You try to focus on what’s happening to you physically, his cock filling you up and hitting every right spot, but it’s hard when so many emotions run through you at the same time. “Do you love me too?”

“I love you, Toji.” The words slip past your lips. You watch as he smiles, and you avert your gaze elsewhere. You don’t like giving him the satisfaction of knowing that, even when he deeply knows it. 

“I love you more than you know, baby.” Toji tells you, his hand going down your body to play with your clit. You try to ignore it, letting the feeling of pleasure take over, but your other emotions are too overwhelming. So many emotions flow through you.

Tears keep streaming down your eyes as Toji reminds you that he loves you so much. His hands land on your hips. His hands feel so gentle on your body. “Please stay with me.”

Toji is usually much rougher during sex, but this time he's gentler with you. It still feels so fucking good. You bite down your lip, feeling as your second orgasm of the night approaches. Your walls begin to squeeze around him, and Toji begins to curse under his breath. He fucking loves this, fuck fuck fuck fuck, he could stay buried inside of you forever.

“Will you stay with me, baby? Do I need to trap you?” He says, and what he’s saying is so wrong but it just sounds so fucking hot. It arouses you even more. “Do I need to knock you up?”

“Fuck–” You’re so close to finishing and his words are certainly helping. His cock just hits every right spot and he plays with your clit perfectly. You have to put your hand over your mouth when you reach your climax, not being able to contain the sounds but at least your hand muffles them. 

“I’m gonna fuck a baby into you. I need you by my side, baby.” Toji continues, his thrusts slowly becoming sloppy. His nails unwillingly dig into your flesh. “Gonna make you a mommy, fuck–”

Toji throws his head back, shutting his eyes. He groans when he finally finishes, filling you up with his cum. He stays buried inside of you until he makes sure every drop of his cum is inside of you. He finally pulls out after a minute.

Toji lays down beside you, an exasperated breath leaving his lips. He tries to bring you closer to him, for you to lay your head on his chest how you usually do. He doesn’t usually like it, normally he pushes you off saying he has work early the next morning before he turns on his side. But not this time, he’s the one that tries to bring you closer, and Toji feels a sense of relief when you do.

You hear his heartbeat as it settles, and it brings you so much peace. His hand lovingly strokes your arm, an action that Toji only ever does when he’s making up for something. He places a kiss on your forehead before he mutters, “I love you.”

No kiss or caress can change your mind though. You’ve made your decision. He’s so loving now but within a week he’ll go back to being the same cold Toji. Toji doesn’t know though, and he thinks you’re all good when your hand fondles his chest. His lips then peck yours.

“Are we good now?” Toji asks. He doesn’t want you to leave, and while he might not show it, he does love you. Toji would not sit on his ass for nearly twelve hours a day, five days weekly, for anyone else but you. Plumbing was paying more than enough for him and Megumi, but it wasn’t going to be enough for you.

Toji changed jobs for you, wanting to give you a lavish lifestyle. He bought you a somewhat expensive ring, gave you a proper wedding, and now you’re living in an apartment that he wouldn’t have been able to afford in his previous job. Sure, he does have somewhat of an addiction and he doesn’t give you money to buy whatever you want, but you’re a housewife, you don’t get to buy whatever you want. At least that’s what he believes. Toji has done so much for you, and it pains to see that his efforts go underappreciated.

“We are.” You answer his question. You peck his lips again. He’s smiling at you but you can’t bring yourself to smile at him. “But we’re still getting a divorce.”

“What?” His eyes widen when those words leave your lips. Your head remains on his chest, your hand still running on his chest. You’re ever so calm listening to his heartbeat.

“Toji, if this is the only way that you can show me you love me then I don’t want that.” You tell him. You’re ever so calm, you have come to accept that your marriage is ending. You did think you’d be more of a mess while telling him this, but the tears from before are more than enough. “You’re better off with someone else.”

“But I want to be with you. You’re the woman I love.” He says, and it causes you to laugh. 

“You just like having sex with me.” You argue, even though you know that he does love you. But you want to leave. You have to because by his side you won’t be happy.

“I told you I wanted to have a baby with you, that’s no small deal.” He brings up.

“Just a spur of the moment thing. If I thought you were serious, I would’ve pushed you off.” You tell him, getting up from the bed and walking to the bathroom to clean yourself off. Toji watches you from the bed, watching as his cum drips out of you. He’d find the scene hot and pull you back into the bed if it weren’t for the fact that–

His hand go over his face, a sigh leaving his lips, “She fucking wants a divorce.”

[bbina]

between the lines masterlist

ᯓ★ SYNOPSIS.ᐟ from what started as a simple arrangement to hide your feelings for a certain someone by getting into in a fake relationship soon turns into a tangled mess. in which some things are hard to tell when you can’t read between the lines

ᯓ★ PAIRING.ᐟ park wonbin x reader

ᯓ★ GENRE.ᐟ fluff, angst, crack | 𖡎 – written portions

ᯓ★ STATUS.ᐟ completed.

ᯓ★ TAGLIST.ᐟ closed (limit)

ᯓ★ NOTES.ᐟ first riize smau! bbina is cooking with this one i fear... this fic will contain nsfw themes somewhere along the way and some kys jokes, etc. happy reading! also if you want to be added to the taglist make sure your blog is visible for me to be able to tag you

˗ˏˋ ★ CHAPTERS ★ ˎˊ˗ ☆ INTRODUCTION ☆ ONE ⊹₊ ⋆ do what you must ☆ TWO ⊹₊ ⋆ 𖡎 last minute rain checks ☆ THREE ⊹₊ ⋆ national museum of korea ☆ FOUR ⊹₊ ⋆ 𖡎 campfire ☆ FIVE ⊹₊ ⋆ chemistry ☆ SIX ⊹₊ ⋆ 𖡎 first day on the job ☆ SEVEN ⊹₊ ⋆ shock factor ☆ EIGHT ⊹₊ ⋆ 𖡎 yet ☆ NINE ⊹₊ ⋆ soft launch ☆ TEN ⊹₊ ⋆ thanks for the support ☆ ELEVEN ⊹₊ ⋆ 𖡎 pillow talk ☆ TWELVE ⊹₊ ⋆ 𖡎 count your days ☆ THIRTEEN ⊹₊ ⋆ wasn't part of the plan ☆ FOURTEEN ⊹₊ ⋆ 𖡎 why does it matter ☆ FIFTEEN ⊹₊ ⋆ just be with me ☆ SIXTEEN ⊹₊ ⋆ seoul bound ☆ SEVENTEEN ⊹₊ ⋆ more than welcome ☆ EIGHTEEN ⊹₊ ⋆ 𖡎 trust me ☆ NINETEEN ⊹₊ ⋆ newly improved fake boyfriend 2.0 ☆ TWENTY ⊹₊ ⋆ only my girl ☆ TWENTY ONE ⊹₊ ⋆ next date ☆ TWENTY TWO ⊹₊ ⋆ 𖡎 for my eyes only ☆ TWENTY THREE ⊹₊ ⋆ care package ☆ TWENTY FOUR ⊹₊ ⋆ too early ☆ TWENTY FIVE ⊹₊ ⋆ not like this ☆ TWENTY SIX ⊹₊ ⋆ two months later ☆ TWENTY SEVEN ⊹₊ ⋆ 𖡎 long way home ☆ TWENTY EIGHT ⊹₊ ⋆ 𖡎 thank you ☆ TWENTY NINE ⊹₊ ⋆ fake idgafer ☆ THIRTY ⊹₊ ⋆ 𖡎 boundaries ☆ THIRTY ONE ⊹₊ ⋆ could've had it all ☆ THIRTY TWO ⊹₊ ⋆ out of habit ☆ THIRTY THREE ⊹₊ ⋆ 𖡎 time ☆ THIRTY FOUR ⊹₊ ⋆ deja vu ☆ THIRTY FIVE ⊹₊ ⋆ operation: ynbin ☆ THIRTY SIX ⊹₊ ⋆ it's bad for the both of them ☆ THIRTY SEVEN ⊹₊ ⋆ stories write themselves ☆ THIRY EIGHT ⊹₊ ⋆ 𖡎 ulsan ☆ THIRTY NINE ⊹₊ ⋆ 𖡎 drunken words ☆ FOURTY ⊹₊ ⋆ 𖡎 sober thoughts ☆ FOURTY ONE ⊹₊ ⋆ disappointed ☆ FOURTY TWO ⊹₊ ⋆ 𖡎 afternoon bliss (M) ☆ FOURTY THREE ⊹₊ ⋆ 𖡎 we are so back ☆ FOURTY FOUR ⊹₊ ⋆ what are we ☆ FOURTY FIVE ⊹₊ ⋆ 𖡎 wouldn't have it in any other way ☆ FOURTY SIX ⊹₊ ⋆ new boyfriend lore ☆ FOURTY SEVEN ⊹₊ ⋆ texting and driving ☆ FOURTY EIGHT ⊹₊ ⋆ 𖡎 dior her ☆ FOURTY NINE ⊹₊ ⋆ 𖡎 you’re all i’ll ever want and need ☆ FIFTY ⊹₊ ⋆ between the lines

⋆.˚—̳͟͞͞★ asks | lore | official playlist ₊⊹

[writeonwhiskey]

The SKZ House (18+ fanfic)

Posting this for anyone specifically wanting to reblog this fic vs my Masterlist.

Summary: After a bad breakup with your ex, you need a place to live for the remainder of the school year. You see the Sigma Kappa Zeta (SKZ) fraternity ad for an "In-House Stay"; you decide to you apply and are accepted. Your duties? Cooking...cleaning...oh, and pleasing your assigned members: Hwang Hyunjin and Bang Chan.

Series Word Count: 153,021

Warnings: Oral (both m and f receiving), spanking, solo play with an onlooker, threesome, handcuffs, light dom/sub undertones, public sex, choking, orgasm denial, and angst...lots of angst.

Chapter One: Of Breakups & New Housing

Chapter Two: Of Ex's & Tesla's

Chapter Three: Of Blowjobs & Birthdays

Chapter Four: Of Pineapples & Punishment

Chapter Five: Of Mirrors & Lessons

Chapter Six: Of Joy Rides & Hot Tubs

Chapter Seven: Of Watching & Submitting

Chapter Eight: Of Drive-Ins & Wishes

Chapter Nine: Of Halloween & Hallways

Chapter Ten: Of Yin & Yang

Chapter Eleven: Of Triple N's & Multiple O's

Chapter Twelve: Of Delays & Professor Bang

Chapter Thirteen: Of Girl Talk & Berry

Chapter Fourteen: Of Surprises & Closets

Chapter Fifteen: Of Showers & Cabins

Chapter Sixteen: Of Chan & Cuffs

Chapter Seventeen: Of Futures & Flights

Chapter Eighteen: Of Beaches & Balconies

Chapter Nineteen: Of Chokers & Christmas

Chapter Twenty: Of Father's & Basements

Chapter Twenty-One: Of Rotations & Doors

Chapter Twenty-Two: Of Seungmin & Karaoke

Chapter Twenty-Three: Of You (Chan POV)

Chapter Twenty-Four: Of Changbin & Roses

Chapter Twenty-Five: Of Popcorn & Reuniting

Chapter Twenty-Six: Of Talks & Relapsing

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Of Insomnia & Revelations

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Of Notices & Benches

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Of Storms (Chan POV)

Chapter Thirty: Of Rainy Days & Goodbyes

Chapter Thirty-One: Of Vets & Contracts

Chapter Thirty-Two: Of Epilogues

FOR REFERENCE:

SKZ House Photo Book

The SKZ House Bonus Fic

Summary: For the life of you, you can't get Changbin and Seungmin to stop arguing for long...unless they're fucking you at the same time.

Word Count: 3020

Warnings: Threesome, squirting, double penetration, anal sex, deep throating, tit fucking.

One-Shot: Changbin x Y/N x Seungmin

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Faking It | Jeon Jungkook | Chapter Two

Summary: Seeing him again happened sooner than you thought it would but absolutely no one is complaining. Pairing: f!reader (30) x Single Dad Jungkook (33) (Arranged Marriage Slow Burn?) Word Count: 9.8k Warnings: Talking about Jungkook's wife who passed away in childbirth (Doesn't talk about her death but yeah) a/n: Took me three months but we're finally here 😭 And if any of you saw me post this and delete it...no you didn't. I posted it on my reblogs account on accident so sorry if that teased you a bit 😅 Anyways I hope this was worth the wait 😭 p.s. I only read through this once when I completed it so have mercy on me if there are typos

I wake up naturally this morning and it's honestly one of the best feelings in my opinion. Not having to worry about being woken up out of a sound sleep shows me that it's going to be a good day.

As I yawn and rub the sleep out of my eyes I hear my phone vibrate on my nightstand, telling me I have a new message. I roll over and reach for it lazily to check and when I read the sender's name I immediately shoot up, causing Salem to dart off the bed. "Sorry Salem" I call after him but then when I go back to read the message my heart is already beating out of my chest.

'Good morning y/n I hope you slept well. How are you?' a simple yet inviting message from the man I just met last night. Who knew waking up to good morning texts would still feel this good at the ripe age of thirty?

'Good morning Jungkook! I slept like a baby, best sleep I've gotten in a while actually. I just woke up so, so far so good. How are you? How's Juni? Did you guys sleep alright?' I send and at a second glance I can see how completely whipped I am for this man already. Why am I rambling on and on about sleep? I could've just said 'I slept well, I hope you did as well' or something like that.

'That's good, I'm glad to hear! Juni and I slept alright. She actually only woke up an hour ago which is unheard of since she's usually knocking on my door at six am. She's been talking about you since she woke up' he sends back and my heart flutters, loving that I've made that big of an impression on her already.

I check the time and see that it's already nine am which is a record time for me to sleep as well since I'm usually up by seven most days. Then again it's not everyday that you get to spend the night with a man like him...

Wait! That's not what I meant!

'She can't stop talking about going shopping for butterflies so I wanted to see if we could set up a time soon. Maybe this weekend if you're free?' he suggests and I have to restrain myself from kicking my feet, just thinking about this man asking to see me again, disguised by his daughter wanting to get butterfly decorations for her room.

'This weekend sounds perfect! I'm free tomorrow as well so either day is fine' I offer up and face palm, scolding myself for being too eager. 'Tomorrow sounds great! Should we meet around eleven? Juni and I would love to take you out to lunch if you'd like. You know, to thank you for the help' he sends and I can't help but think that maybe he's a little nervous too.

'Eleven it is! Should I meet you guys there? There's a shop that I'm sure Juni will love and it'll definitely have what we're looking for!' I send and I can see the bubbles popping up to show that he's typing but they go up and down a couple more times. He'll type for a little and then stop and type again and I can only hope that I didn't say something wrong in suggesting where to go.

When a few minutes go by I decide it's best to get out of bed and get a cup of coffee. That'll wake up my brain a little more and help me hopefully not make as much of a fool of myself while texting him.

I find Salem perched on top of his cat tree, still a little jumpy from me having scared him but I think it's made him playful more than anything as I watch his tail flick back and forth while he watches me walk up to him.

"I'm sorry for scaring you" I apologize again, scratching his between his ears but when I feel my phone vibrating over and over in my hand I jump again making him climb down off his cat tree and scurry under the couch. I sigh and scold myself as a result before taking a look at my phone, seeing an incoming call from Jungkook.

I almost drop it after reading his name but catch and answer before I end up dropping it.

"Hello?" I ask, slightly out of breath from the scare but try to hide it as best as I can. "Hi pretty lady!" I hear Juni call out in the distance, the phone no doubt on speaker phone. "Good morning Juni! How are you little one?" I ask, feeling more at ease talking to her first and my question awards me with a little giggle before she continues.

"I'm good! Daddy says we're going to a special store to pick out the butterflies for my room! Is that right?" she asks, clear excitement laced all throughout her tone. "Yes that's right Juni we are! Does that sound alright to you?" I ask and I can clearly hear how she's jumping from excitement from how punctuated her voice sounds now as she chants "Yes" over and over again.

"I wish we could go right now!" she says, her excitement too difficult to contain at the moment which makes me smile knowing that she wants to go right away. 

"Patience Juni, tomorrow isn't too far away" I hear Jungkook's voice coming through now and it makes my breath hitch, forgetting the fact that he had been there all along. He wasn't kidding when he said that Juni grabs everyone's attention right away. Given the chance I'm sure she would've talked to me for hours if her dad hadn't reminded her.

"That's right Juni, only one more sleep until tomorrow" I say and I can hear a little gasp from the other side. "Does that mean I can go to sleep right now and then we can go?" she asks, not understanding the concept entirely.

"Not unless you want to sleep for twenty four hours silly" he says and I hear a fit of giggles that could only mean that he might've tickled her but after a few seconds it's calmed down.

"How long is twenty four hours?" she asks, a constant roulette of questions gearing up if he doesn't answer this question correctly.

"You know how you woke up yesterday, went to school, came home, played with your toys, got ready, went to meet Ms. y/n, came back home, went to bed and woke up this morning?" he lists off and I can tell she's probably nodded her head all throughout his explanation.

"Yes?" she responds in a questioning tone, waiting for him to get to the point. "Well that's how long twenty four hours is" he responds and I hear jumping again once he's finished before an excited Juni calls out. "Does that mean we get to go see Ms. y/n again when I get home from school?" she asks and my heart melts at her excitement.

"Juni, we're seeing her tomorrow remember. I'm sure Ms. y/n is very busy tonight" he says and I hear a sad "Oh" from her and I contemplate my next words carefully before going for it. "Juni, would it be okay if I talked to your Daddy for a second?" I ask and I can hear her let out a disheartened 'Okay' before Jungkook takes the phone off speaker.

"Hey y/n, sorry she's a little hyper this morning" he says and I smile at his efforts to apologize for Juni's adorable disposition. "No that's okay, I love talking to her! She's a cutie" I say and he hums, "Try living with her" he counters and I smile, knowing that her excitable attitude might get a little tiring sometimes.

"I wanted to ask you if you would like to do something today after Juni gets home from school? Maybe meet you at the park? I forgot to give you Juni's dress last night after I washed it. I have to go back to my parent's house to pick it up anyway and theres a park around the corner. It's your call though. I don't want to go against what you told her" I say, rambling off nervously again but this time over the phone instead of texting and I regret ever offering it in the first place.

Why am I so freaking awkward?

"You sure you don't mind? I could always just get it from you tomorrow? I don't want to inconvenience you or anything" he says, giving me a chance to back out but not saying no to me, giving me a vote of confidence. "I wouldn't have offered if I minded" I say with a smile in my tone and he takes another second to think before giving me his response.

"She gets off at three, does that work for you or should we meet up later?" he asks and my heart skips a beat, knowing that I'll get to see him again so soon. "That sounds great, you can meet me at my parent's house if you'd like? The park isn't too far away so we can leave our cars and walk there" I offer and he takes a couple of seconds to think again before saying anything else.

"Juni, do you wanna go see Ms. y/n after school?" he asks and I can hear her little feet running around this time and repeating her response of ceaseless Yes's again. "Well I guess we'll see you later then. I can bring some food for us to take to the park if you'd like?" he offers and I shake my head before remembering that thankfully he can't see me in my sleepy state.

"No that's okay I got it covered. You already said you guys are taking me to lunch tomorrow so the least I could do is bring us food to share at the park today. Plus, I'm the one who suggested it in the first place" I explain and he chuckles before agreeing.

"Alright, thank you y/n. Should we show up around four then?" he asks, giving them time to make their way over after picking her up from school. "Four sounds perfect, I'll see you then!" I say and he calls Juni over to say goodbye. "Bye Pretty Lady! See you after school!" she giggles. 

I swear I'm never going to tire of her excitable disposition.

"Goodbye Juni! Have a good day and listen to your teachers okay?" and I can hear a faint 'I will' in the background, no doubt from her running off to do something. "Thanks again y/n, I know she's going to be so excited to see you today...we both are" he adds at the end and my heart skips at his confession. "Me too" I say quietly and we finish up our goodbye's before quickly hanging up.

I slowly walk over to the couch as to not scare Salem this time, grab the pillow next to me, put it over my face and scream into it. Although I tried to muffle it I still end up scaring him making him run off to my room, no doubt planning to be wary of me for the rest of the day but that's okay.

I get to see them again, I get to see him again.

I really hope I'm not wrong about thinking that there might actually be something between us already, something about this just feels right. I don't want to rush into this too quickly though since we don't really know much about each other. I want to take things slow and hopefully he does too.

Well...I hope he'll want to take things further but you never know, a man like him is sure to have a lot of options, right? I just don't want to set myself up for heartbreak. Gotta keep it together and not get too vulnerable with him, even if it feels like I should. 

I've already let him in a little, and he's definetly let me in a lot with letting me spend so much time with his daughter but I don't know, I guess only time will tell what's going to happen between us.

If there's going to be an 'us'.

~~~~~

The day drags on as I unconsciously count down the hours until I get to see them again but it seems as though time is standing still.

I've spent most of my day editing the pictures I took for a family friend's wedding since that's usually how I get my clients these days. I know someone who knows someone who needs a photographer and my rates are pretty fairly priced so they tend to hire me.

Going through picture after picture and seeing how happy they look together makes me wonder what it would be like to be truly happy with someone like this. Be so openly and obviously in love that no one can say otherwise.

As time ticks by though my mind wanders off until I realize I only have about an hour to get ready before I have to meet them.

"Shit!" I say aloud and get up to hopefully make myself look presentable enough, luckily I took a shower this morning so we're all set on that front. I still need to figure out something for us to eat while at the park though and if I had paid attention to the time it would've been a brilliant idea.

The only option I have left is to phone a friend.

"Y/n? Is something wrong?" my mom asks, the call on speakerphone while I try to fix my hair. "Well depends on if you can help me or not" I say and I hear her sigh. "Please tell me you didn't end up in jail" she says and I scoff at her obviously sarcastic remarks.

"Very funny mom, but for your information no I did not end up in jail. This is seriously something I need help with though. Are you busy right now?" I ask, hoping and praying her answer is no. "No I'm pretty much free for the rest of the day, why?" she responds and I let out a huge sigh before responding.

"Good! Can you do me a favor and throw together a picnic lunch for three? Well...two and a half" I ask, not wanting to give up who it's for but by her gasp I can tell she already knows. "Are you and Jungkook seeing each other again already?" she asks, and I can tell her eyes are as wide as saucers with her hand over her mouth, her reactions being the same since I was a child.

"Yes" I say, giving a one worded response leaving me turning down the volume on my phone when I hear her squealing. "This is incredible! See I knew you two would hit it off! I can hear the church bells ringing already" she says, jumping to conclusions as she always does.

"Mom can you please get the food ready for me?" I plead, going back to the topic at hand while putting some makeup on, nothing too crazy but not wanting to over or under compensate. "Yes yes of course. Leave it to me!" and before I can say another word she's hanging up the phone. "Well that was easy" I say to myself before going to my closet to pick out what to wear.

As I'm flipping through my options I see Salem come out of the darkness, scaring me half to death leaving me scoffing seconds later, realizing he's given me a taste of my own medicine "Okay I guess I deserved that one huh?" I say to him and he meows in response.

"Okay Salem this one, or this one" I say, placing my options in front of him and he sniffs both before swatting at the one he's chosen. "You don't think a sun dress is too much?" I ask and he meows almost as if he was telling me to trust him and so I laugh and give in.

"I hope Juni likes it" I mumble to myself, quickly throwing it on and rushing to finish getting ready. A few minutes later I'm giving Salem a couple tummy rubs like I always do and rushing out the door, praying that I'll get there on time.

The drive to my parent's house seems like it's taking ten times longer than usual and I'm constantly glancing at the clock, making sure that I won't be late but thankfully I get there with plenty of time to spare.

"Hurry up they'll be here any minute!" my mom says, practically having babysat the door to make sure I arrive first. "Nice to see you too" I mumble, never getting a proper hello from her anymore. "The basket is on the table and I put a blanket in there as well" she says rushing me over to where she's put it and it's at that moment she finally notices my appearance.

"You really like him don't you?" she ask, smugness laced in her tone as her efforts of matchmaking are slowly succeeding. "No! Yes...I don't know" I deny but I backtrack immediately since I really do like him. "I haven't been interested in anyone in years and so I don't want to try too hard but I don't know" I somewhat admit to myself, as well my mom that I'm really starting to warm up to the idea of being with someone again.

"It's okay love, he hasn't been with anyone in a really long time either" she says and I furrow my brow, "How do you know that?".

"Well Mrs. Jeon and I were talking about it last night and it seems like ever since his wife died he's been really closed off to love or the idea of dating again. He's tried a few times but they never went beyond a second or third date" she relays and I nod my head, distracting myself with looking through all of the things she had placed in the basket. 

I try not to let any expression spread across my face since I don't know how to feel. I don't want to say I'm happy that things didn't work out between him and another woman but it's also sad to think about how Jungkook might've felt when his wife passed in such a traumatic way.

"Thank you for telling me but I think I should start learning more about him when he feels comfortable talking to me about it. It's only fair right? I'm sure he hasn't asked too much about me and my past so I guess shouldn't either" I say and walk into the kitchen to get a glass of water.

"But he has" she says when my mouth is full making me spit it into the sink that was thankfully right in front of me. "He what?" I cough, trying to compose myself as I learn this tidbit of information. "He has asked about you. In fact I was on the phone with her right before you got here" I grab a paper towel to dab off whatever water I have left on me but before I'm able to respond we hear the doorbell ringing.

"I'll get it" she say knowingly, giving me another second to calm down before I have to face him. I take a few deep breaths, fix my hair and check my reflection as best as I can in the smudged steel finish on the fridge while listening to my mother greet them at the door.

While Jungkook and my mother exchange a few words I peek around the corner and notice Juni slightly tugging on my mom's pant leg. "Excuse me but where's the pretty lady?" she asks and I have to hold back the coos I want to let out so badly, my heart already a puddle at the sight of her pleading eyes wanting to see me.

"Why don't you go look for her?" she says and when Jungkook looks up his eyes meet mine immediately for just a second but long enough to know my cover is blown. I duck back into the kitchen to hide, convincing myself that he didn't see me when he clearly did. 

"Go on" he says softly when Juni no doubt looks up at him for approval and my mother follows behind her as Juni walks in the completely opposite direction from where I am, my mom trailing behind her, giving no hints and letting her explore on her own.

I assume that Jungkook follows them but when I hear what sound like his footsteps get closer and not further away I tiptoe my way into the pantry, completely mortified that I know now for a fact that he caught me staring at them.

I close the door almost all the way and ten seconds later I watch as his form passes by the little crack in the doorway and I hold my breath as if that might help but there's only one way in and one way out of this kitchen and both him and I know that.

Why did I even hide? What was I thinking? Way to start things off on the right foot.

While I'm busy scolding myself I forget to pay attention and stumble back when he opens the door. "Got ya" he chuckles and I clear my throat, "Yeah I uh, I guess you did" I say, trying to lean back against one of the shelves, stumbling over a box instead but quickly recovering.

"Why are you hiding?" he chuckles, leaning up against the door frame and crossing his arms making me look down and notice how one of them is completely covered in tattoos. I had never specifically been attracted to tattoos before but on him...

I lose track of what he had said and only realize I had left a lull in the conversation when he clears his throat. "Oh I-" I start off but when I hear my mother and Juni's voices in the other room I grab his shirt and pull him in, making him stumble inside, closing the door right away.

It's only when he hits the switch to turn the light on that I realize what I had done.

"I-" I try to apologize but when I look up at him I notice that there's something in the way he's looking at me that I have never seen before, making my words die in my throat. We stand there for what feels like hours but had only been mere moments just observing each other, watching those small changes of expressions and I start to feel dizzy under his gaze. 

The tension between us clear and building but it's only when he opens his mouth to say something that the door is thrown open and we're met with a squeal from Juni. She runs into the closet and grabs onto Jungkook's leg making him stumble forward and as a result pins me against the shelf, his hands resting on either side of me.

It's like the universe is playing some sort of sick and twisted joke on us, constantly putting us in situations like these and yet we had only just become reacquainted with each other last night. 

"I found you!" Juni squeals again, giggles as her cries of victory and she soon pulls on Jungkook's leg to try and separate us. 

"Daddy I wanna play with the pretty lady" Juni pouts and in her efforts of trying to pull him off of me he actually loses his footing and stumbles, our bodies fully flush against each other now, his face just inches away from mine. 

I blink up at him and he does the same to me, both of us frozen and not really knowing what to do. It's only when my mother chimes in and asks Juni to come with her to get a snack that that little bubble that had formed around us had been popped.

"I...sorry... I uh, tripped...you know...with Juni and everything" he says, fumbling his words like a school boy, taking a few steps back to be at a respectful distance again. "Yeah no it's fine. I um, I shouldn't have pulled you in here in the first place" I admit and he smirks, remembering the point that lead us up to the little predicament we're in. 

"Why did you pull me in here?" he smiles, glancing over at where my mom has Juni plopped down on the kitchen counter with a popsicle in her hand. "I take hide and seek very seriously" I explain, me being the one crossing my arms now and he chuckles at my lame excuse for my actions but accepts it anyways. 

"Right" he says and offers me a hand to lead me out which I reluctantly accept.

"Mom she'll spoil her dinner" I say, scolding her with Juni just lost in the flavor and sheer size of it. To be fair it looks adorable in her little hands. "It's alright, a little sugar won't hurt her. Plus we're still going to the park right?" he asks and I look at him and nod. "Right" I agree and lift Juni off the counter to set her on her feet. 

"Hi Miss y/n" she says with a bright smile with her lips and tongue stained a bright shade of red from the cherry flavor. "Hi Juni" I say and fix her little sun dress that she's wearing, it's almost as if we had planned to match and when she notices me straightening out her dress she look at mine and also notices the similarity right away. 

"Look Daddy! Miss y/n and I are matching!" she says with the toothiest grin I've ever seen, her front two teeth standing out just a little bit more making it another cute little trait she shares with her father. Although who knows if she'll keep that once she starts losing her teeth I think to myself and quickly fix her hair as well since it's gotten a bit ruffled in the excitement of it all. 

"That's right baby, you both look so beautiful" he says making my heart skip a beat. When I look over at him he's giving me a similar adoring look he gave Juni just moments ago making it even harder for me to not melt into a puddle. 

I'm beginning to notice that these two really know how to tug on a person's heartstrings, it's almost as if it were as easy as breathing and that's something that's gonna take a while to get used to. 

"Can we go to the park now, please?" Juni asks, her eyes going back and forth between the two of us and when I look over at Jungkook he nods. "Sure, are you ready?" I ask, turning back to Juni and she jumps up and down and chants 'Yes' over and over again like she had done this morning on the phone. 

"Alright let's go" I say and with one hand clutching her popsicle for dear life she uses the other one to grab mine and drag me towards the front door. 

"Juni be careful" Jungkook scolds but I turn back towards him and assure him not to worry and I can see how he relaxes at that. She's a little bouncing ball of sunshine, emphasis on the bouncing since she can hardly sit still most of the time unless she's eating, and even then she's dancing around and smiling happily. I swear if this girl gets any sweeter I'm gonna start getting a toothache.

I let go of Juni's hand while my mother entertains her so we can make sure we have everything before we head out and when I try to turn around to grab my cardigan Jungkooks already grabbing it and holding it out to help me put it on. "Oh! I can-" "I know" he cuts me off but doesn't make any moves to give it to me so I turn my back to him and let him do as he pleases, sliding it up my arms and over my shoulders.

He runs his hands down my arms, no doubt as an excuse to smooth it all out but it causes a slight shiver to run through my system and he let's go, surprised at the reaction. 

"You sure you're gonna be warm enough?" he asks, a hint of amusement laced in his tone making my cheeks heat up but I nod my head and quickly rush over to the table where the basket is so I don't have to face him but he takes it from me as soon as my fingers brush the handle, making our hands touch. 

"I can carry that" I counter and he shakes his head, "No I'll carry it, someone's gotta hold Juni's hand while we walk there" he says, clearly delegating our respective duties and I smile and nod again. "Deal" and at that we're out the door. 

~~~~

"Higher Daddy higher!" Juni squeals while Jungkook pushes her on the swing, his arms no doubt getting a little tired since she's been on it for the past ten minutes now and I can see he's losing momentum with every push. 

"Daddy's tired Juni. Can you swing on your own now? You know, just like I taught you" he suggests and she thinks about it for a second before saying a quick 'Okay' and clumsily moving her legs back and forth to keep the momentum going.

I smile as I watch Jungkook stumble over towards where I've been sitting on the blanket and watching them, adoring their father daughter relationship. "You're so good with her" I praise when he sits down and hand him a cold water bottle which he accepts right away and downs half of it. 

"You think so?" he asks, always unsure of himself but I couldn't think of a more perfect father than him. "I know so. She's lucky to have a loving devoted father like you" I say and he smiles softly, grabing one of the strawberries that my mother had packed for us. 

"You flatter me" he says, a slight blush blooming on his cheeks making me feel almost smitten with him. "It's the truth" I reenforcing what I've said and he shakes his head, finishing off the fruit in his mouth.

"Sometimes I feel like I'm not enough, you know? Like there's only so much I could give her" he says and I can tell from how his body language has changed that he's really thinking about how he wishes her mother could be here for her too.

"What was her name?" I ask and he looks at me curiously, not knowing that I'm on the same page as him yet. "Your wife, what was her name?" I say tentatively but when he registers it I quickly backtrack. "I'm sorry, you don't have to tell me that. I just figured that you might've been well..." I trail off and we sit there in silence watching Juni swing back and forth, back and forth until he decides to speak up. 

"Julie" he says softly, as if it had been years since he had spoken it. "Her name was Julie" he says softly and when I look over at him I can see the melancholy expression he's trying to hide. "That's a beautiful name, did you want Juni's name to sound similar to her's?" I ask, not wanting to make this conversation go dark but knowing that talking about her might cheer him up.

"Well, kinda. We wanted something that combined both of our names. It's silly, I know" he mumbles getting bashful about it. "It's not silly, it's wonderful to see in a way that both you and Juni are still carrying her with you everyday. It's a beautiful way to pay tribute to her" I reassure him and he smiles at me, mouthing a silent thank you. 

"I'm sorry, maybe I shouldn't have pried" I apologize again, seeing that it still has him feeling down. "No it's okay, it's nice to talk about her every once in a while. Thank you, for that" him now reassuring me and I nod, both of us left in silence for a while before Juni runs up to us. 

"Daddy what's wrong?" she asks, seeing the clearly deflated Jungkook as she gets closer and it's good to see that instead of brushing it off like it's nothing he doesn't hesitate to tell her how he's feeling. "I'm just a little sad, Ms. y/n and I were just talking about Mommy" he explains and she gets almost a look of understanding which is surprising for someone of her age. 

"Please don't be sad Daddy, remember you said Mommy is always watching over us right?" she say, giving him the talk that he's clearly had with her a time or two. "Right" he say, brightening up just a bit. "And she wouldn't want to see us sad when we think about her right?" she continues, an slightly stern tone creeping up which makes both Jungkook and I smile. "Right" he echos again and she nods her head in agreement. 

"You always tell me to look in the mirror and touch my nose, and my ears and my lips and everything else that you say reminds you of her and you tell me that she'll always be right here with me. So that means when I'm here with you she's here too right?" she asks again and he chuckles. 

"When did you get so smart?" he says, grabbing her and starts tickling her, making her squirm all over the place and when he finally has mercy on her and she catches her breath she answers, "Well I am turning five soon" she says matter-o-factly and I can't help but chuckle at that. "Oh right, how could I forget" he over exaggerates  and she giggles, grabbing his shoulder before leaning in to whisper something. 

"Daddy can we show the pretty lady a picture of Mommy?" she says almost at full volume leaving him flinching back. It's adorable how she still hasn't figured out this whole whispering thing. "Sure baby" he obliges and pulls out his phone, picking out one and handing it to her so she can show it to me. 

She surprises me by plopping down in my lap and putting the phone way too close to my face. "This is my Mommy, her name is Julie" she says proudly and my heart can't help but ache thinking this is the only way she's known her mother. "She's beautiful Juni" I say, putting my hand on top of her hand that's holding the phone and pulling it back so I can see the picture properly. 

"You really do have your mom's nose" I chuckle when I notice the same curved button nose they share leaving me booping her's and making her smile. She scrolls through a couple more photos giving me little bits of commentary that no doubt Jungkook has told her as she grew up and it's when I hear the soft click of a camera that I look back up at him. 

"Sorry, it was too perfect not to" he says, seemly enjoying watching the two of us and I can't help the way my heart skips a beat making me shy all over again. "Can we take some more pictures?" Juni asks, wrapping her little arms around my neck and squishing my face against her's leaving me laughing at how adorable this all is. 

Jungkook obliges and we take picture after picture after picture together until Juni is satisfied and has run off to play again. 

"I didn't even know that you brought that" I say, watching as he fiddles around with the camera, flipping through the photos he just took. "It was on the table right behind the basket" he explains and now that I think about it I do remember seeing the corner of a camera bag sitting next to it. 

He smiles as he looks at the pictures and I lean over to catch a glance at them but he pulls it back out of my reach. "Hey!" I chuckle and she shakes his head. "Not until they're edited" he refuses and I scoff. 

"You're not actually going to edit them are you?" I say, nervous at the thought of him spending hours looking at those pictures. "Why wouldn't I?" he asks as if I had said something confusing. "Well I mean, aren't you busy with work? I doubt you would want to take extra time out of your day to play around with them" I explain and he smiles. 

"Let me take a few more and then I'll let you see them" he says, angling his body so he's facing me. "Did you want me to call Juni back?" I ask but when I try he stops me with another click and I look back at him confused. "I meant of just you" he says simply but I can tell he feels a bit bashful from the way he's started to hide behind the camera. 

"I'm not used to being the one in front of the camera" I say, trying to figure out exactly how to pose but he chuckles and puts the camera down a little to take a good look at me. "I don't see why not, you're beautiful" he says casually as if those words hadn't sent my heart into overdrive. "I-" I start but the words just don't come out, especially when he places the camera down and leans in closer. 

He takes my hand and places it on the blanket so I can lean on it, places the other in my lap, angles my shoulders slightly away from him and takes my chin and softly tilts my head up, making the sunlight peer down on my face through the leaves of the tree we're under. 

"Just relax" he says, acting as if I could possibly relax after he had his hands all over me, posing me just how he wanted. 

I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths to clear my head and once I start to get that sense of serenity I hear a few soft clicks from his camera, taking picture after picture, him adjusting my pose by hand every time. 

"Daddy!" is the next thing we hear after who knows how long with the sight of Juni running over to us all covered in mud. "Is this your daughter?" a woman who is clearly out of breath says while trailing after Juni. 

"Juni what happened?" I chuckle, seeing that she's as happy as can be with a few smudges of dirt on her face and her dress all muddy. "Her and my son were playing over there and I guess he convinced her to jump in the mud and well..." she says, motioning towards Juni where I'm trying to clean her off as best as I can. 

"I hope she didn't cause you any trouble" Jungkook says, now feeling a bit guilty about the situation since he had taken his eye off her for a second. 

"No, not at all. If anything I should be apologizing for my son. I swear we look away for one second and he's as dirty as can be" she chuckles, finally close to catching her breath. 

"Can you tell the nice lady thank you for bringing you back?" Jungkook tells Juni and she does as she's told and I can see that she has just about as much of an affect on this mom as she does with me. If Jungkook's not careful she can use her cuteness for mass destruction if left unchecked. 

We hear a boy calling out for his mom that looks just like the woman in front of us now with no doubt her husband trailing after him. "Mom, Dad says it's time to go home" he says, his state twice as bad as Juni's. What is it with kids these days and mud? I chuckle to myself and when the boy notices Jungkook and I with Juni he gets a little shy. 

"Oh, hello" he says before he goes and hides behind his mother's leg, "Oh so now you wanna be shy?" his dad teases and snatches him out from his hiding space and whispers no doubt an encouragement for him to apologize. 

"I'm sorry for getting her all dirty. She was just really nice and I wanted to have fun with her" he mumbles and I can see hints of pink peeking through the streaks of dirt on his cheeks just like Juni. 

What did I say? Weapon of mass destruction.

"It's okay sweetie, I'm just glad you had fun" I say, brushing off his apology and when he looks up at me now I can see that his blush deepens and opts to hide behind his Dad's leg this time. "Alright well say goodbye" his mom says and he mumbles a quiet goodbye and gives Juni a shy wave compared to hers being one to match her outgoing and bubbly self.

"Can we play again tomorrow?" Juni asks him and he looks up at his parents for approval. "We usually come here around this time everyday after school so you just have to ask your Mommy and Daddy if you can come again" she says and when I try to deny her claims Jungkook jumps in before I can get a word out. "We'll be here" he says and Juni smiles so wide. 

"See you tomorrow!" she calls out to them and the trio waves goodbye one last time before heading to their car. 

"Mommy and Daddy?" I turn to Jungkook while Juni is busy doing a little happy dance before taking a drink of her juice box. "Well I um, I guess they couldn't help but think we're her parents so it felt best to not correct them" he says while rubbing the back of his neck, his cheeks dusted a light shade of pink just like the little boy's were when he was looking at Juni. 

"Right, and when they say something tomorrow?" I tease and he clears his throat, no doubt not thinking this whole thing through. "Well I guess there's no harm in faking it?" he says and now I'm the one that's nervous.

"Faking it? You mean you want me to pretend to be Juni's mom? Why?" I ask, flustered by the thought of it. "I'm sorry I guess I didn't think about how you might feel about it. I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable" he apologizes but I rush to explain myself.

"I'm not uncomfortable I'm just shocked that you would want to go along with something like that to keep up appearances for people that we hardly know" I say, trying to figure out where his head is at. "Sorry that was a stupid suggestion we don't have to do it if you don't want to" he says and I shake my head.

"I mean I want to, but do you? I mean what about Juni? What's she gonna think?" I ask and watch as she chases a butterfly that has caught her eye. "We can just tell her we're playing pretend" he says and I raise a brow at him. 

"That's the best you got?" I ask and he chuckles nervously. It's funny to see that a tall, strong, handsome man like him is getting so shy about this but I'll play along, I just don't want to confuse Juni. 

"Juni can you come here for a second?" Jungkook calls and she turns and runs over to us right away, looking between the two of us since we're both looking at her with no doubt some very strange expressions. "You like to play pretend right?" he asks and she brightens up at the thought, "It's my favorite thing to do!" she says, twirling around in her very adorable muddy dress. 

"How would you feel if we started playing pretend with Ms. y/n?" he asks and she gets even more excited and does her little chanting of 'Yes' over and over again, a very adorable habit of hers. 

"So this is what we're gonna do, whenever we're out and about with Ms. y/n we're going to pretend like we're a family. You'll be the Baby, I'll be the Daddy and Ms. y/n will be the Mommy, does that sound alright to you?" he asks and she giggles and looks between the two of us, clearly loving the idea. 

"Yes let's do it!" she says, fully confident in her playing pretend skillset. "Alright Juni but there's one little rule" he says and she come in close, knowing that this part is probably a secret. "You can't call her Mommy in front of her parents or grandma and grandpa, got it?" he says and I fully agree with him, we don't need to get their hopes up when we still don't know exactly what we are. 

"Got it! Mommy?" she asks, getting my attention and trying on the name for size and I answer to it right away, somehow feeling almost natural already. "Yes Juni?" I ask, and she looks over at the playground for a second before looking back over at me. "Can I go play for just a little while  longer?" she asks, holding her hands together and giving me the cutest puppy dog eyes I've ever seen. 

"Go ahead" I say and she giggles and rushes off to run around just for a little while longer just like she said. "It suits you" Jungkook says and I look over at him curiously, "What does?" I ask with a tilt of my head. "You being a mom" he says and the words die in my throat. I've always been told I'd be a good mother when the time came but hearing it from him after what we just agreed to do just...

"Thank you" I say, my heart squeezing in a painful but also grateful way and he gives me a smile before he places his hand on my waist for a second to solidify his sincerity before walking a bit closer to the playground to watch Juni. 

I decide to start packing up the stuff we had brought and by the time Juni is dragging her feet back over to me and completely out of breath I've got everything ready to go. "You tired?" I ask and she nods her head, her blinks getting lazy as a clear sign that it's time for bed. 

"Why don't I carry her home...I mean back to my mom's house" I correct myself quickly but I can tell he liked the sound of what I had said, my implication being completely different from what he had imagined. "It's alright, I can carry her, we've got one pretty dress all muddy so I don't think we need another one" he chuckles. 

I pause for a second and pull out the picnic blanket we brought and hold it against myself before picking her up. "Problem solved" I say and he can't help but smile at my solution and quickly takes Juni's shoes off and wipes her feet clean as best as he can before taking the end of the blanket and  tucking it all up so she's practically wrapped up like a burrito. 

"You sure you can cary her? She can get a bit heavy when she's sleepy like this, especially since we've gotta walk for a little bit" he offers and I assure him I'm fine. "What kind of mother would I be if I couldn't carry my child home?" I tease and his eyes widen, clearly having forgotten the little game we're playing.

"How dare I doubt your capabilities as a mother" he chuckles and picks up our stuff, motioning for me to lead the way.

A few minutes go by and we're left in a comfortable silence on our way back to my parent's house and when I decide to speak up he does the same. "I-" "Tha-", "Sorry you go first" "No that's okay you go first" and we toss it back and forth a few more times before he hits me with the age old "Ladies first".

"Thank you for coming tonight and letting me spend some more time with Juni...well and you of course" I say sheepishly and he smiles. "I would hope you like spending time with me since you are my wife after all" he teases and now we've switched personalities. "You know, I think you're getting a little too comfortable with this already" I say and he smiles, playing with his lip piercing that I somehow only noticed right now, the silver glistening from the street lights.

There's so many things I haven't noticed about him yet, or even know about him but somehow everything seems so easy. 

"I mean can you blame me? You fit right in with Juni and I. Honestly better than I thought you would" he mumbles the last part to himself and I have to try my absolute hardest not to literally fall for him. I'm holding his daughter so I would one thousand percent say that now is not the time. 

"What?" I ask, needing clarification but he doesn't give. "Oh nothing" he smiles and picks up the pace, leaving me trailing behind him and right when I go to say something else Juni flinches leaving me slowing down and soothing her back to sleep. "Your Daddy is crazy, you know that?" I whisper to her as if she could hear me but the need to say something was too great. 

A minute or two later we're walking up to my mom's house and I twist my body to give him access to the small purse I brought with us and let him fish out the keys to open the door. 

When my mom hears us come in she goes to give us a no doubt overly exaggerated welcome home but as soon as she sees a very sleepy Juni in my arms she cuts herself off and switches to a hushed tone. 

"Looks like you all had fun" she chuckles and caresses Juni's head for a second, checking to see if she's really asleep and she very much is. "Maybe a little too much fun" Jungkook chuckles, seeing my mother slowly realize how dirty Juni had gotten. 

"She's a cheeky one isn't she?" my mom smiles lovingly and I can't help but wish this whole mom thing with Juni was real. "She is indeed" Jungkook agrees, and hands my mother the picnic basket. 

"Thank you so much for letting me steal your daughter today" Jungkook teases and I can tell that she absolutely loves this. "Honestly you can keep her. I hardly see her anyways" she says, giving Jungkook permission as well as sending a jab my way. 

"Mom" I groan and the both of them smile as if they delighted in my embarrassment. "I just might" he says softly while looking over at me and I can see my mom picking out the wedding venue as we speak, meanwhile I'm wrestling with myself to stay calm. 

We agreed to fake this relationship which means that everything he says is fake...right? I need to separate the real from the delusion but he unfortunately isn't making this any easier.

We say our final goodbyes to my mom and she watches until we walk up to Jungkook's car, no doubt still watching behind the curtain of one of our front windows, spying on us as if her life depended on it. I try to ignore it though because how we end tonight is really important to me. 

"Can I ask you something?" I say after he finishes putting Juni in the car, him closing his car door and walking me over to my car just a few feet away. "Anything" he says while ushering me toward it with a hand on my waist, a slight sign of protection since it's gotten a lot darker than we both realized. 

"When you said I fit in better than you thought I would...and that you might keep me, was that a part of this whole faking it thing we have going?" I ask, wanting to have an open line of communication with him. We're not shy teenagers anymore so as adults I feel like this is something really important to establish. 

"Do you want it to be?" he asks, standing in front of me while I lean against my car door. It still very much being locked as a very clear sign that I don't want this to end. "I mean we just met and..." I say, trailing off because I don't really know what I want. All I know is I like him. I really really like him and his daughter has got me wrapped around her cute little finger. 

"I know, we can take this slow. If this whole husband/wife thing is too much for you we don't have to do it" he offers and I shake my head, "No, no I want to. I just don't want the lines to get too blurry" I explain and he nods his head and leans his hand against the car right next to where I'm standing. 

"Blurry lines aren't a problem for me when it comes to you, it's your call though" he says and if my heart wasn't already racing it surely would've been now. I look up at him and hold my breath when he gets closer my eyes not leaving his and when he lean down I close my eyes, giving into whatever he wants to do to me. 

"Goodnight" he whispers, his warm breath fanning my neck making me lose my sense of reality for a second, wanting to lose myself in him without abandon. I can hardly breathe let alone think straight and he chuckles at that, standing up straight and ghosting his fingers along my jaw before stepping aside, a clear sign for me to get into my car and when I fumble with my keys he takes them and unlocks it and opens the door for me.

I sit down inside and look up at him, indulging myself for a few more seconds. When he hands me my keys he makes our hands touch only for a moment before saying a soft 'Drive safe'. 

When he closes the door for me I finally let out that breath I had desperately been holding back, watching as he walks back to his car with his little Juni still sound asleep.

I watch him pull out of the driveway and decide that even the way he drives is irresistible, giving me a small wave before he goes and while I'm lost in thought I almost jump out of my skin when I hear my phone ringing and my mom's name pops up.

"Mom I really can't talk right now" I say, putting her on speakerphone and starting to car. "Do not give me that y/n I am your mother and set you up with this man so tell me what is going on" she says and I sigh, checking all my mirrors and heading out as well just seconds later. 

"To be honest mom I don't even know. He's showing me very very clear signs that he's interested in me but I can't really say much of anything else at this point" I admit, the realization that the state of our relationship is anything but normal. 

"We just met last night and things are progressing fast, like really fast" I sigh, stopping at a red light, thankfully giving me a second to think. "Well I'd say this is all a good sign. I mean you're both in your thirties honey so adult relationships can progress a lot faster than when you're younger. He's a man that clearly knows what he wants and he wants you. So go for it" she encourages and I take it all in. 

"You're biased because you're my mother and would love to have his parents as your in-laws" I say and she scoffs. "Yes but that's not the point. You would be a fool if you let a man like him walk out of your life" she scolds and I know she's right. 

"I'll do my best to keep an open mind. But please don't talk to his mom yet, or at least not tonight. I don't need both of you losing sleep over this" I warn her but I know she'll do as she pleases no matter what. "You know I can't do that, but I'll do my best" she says and that is the biggest lie she's ever told but I'm not surprised since we dangled this whole thing right in front of her face. 

"You called her already didn't you?" I sigh and she chuckles. "As soon as I closed the door" she admits and I sigh, not the slightest bit surprised. "Alright mom well I gotta go but we'll talk again soon" I say, pulling into my parking spot and turning off the car. 

"Okay well keep me updated" she says and I can't help but roll my eyes. "Between you and Mrs. Jeon I'm sure you can keep each other in the loop" I say, putting my keys in the lock and closing the door behind me when I step into my apartment. "But I gotta go alright, I'll talk to you later" I say once again and hang up as soon as she says goodbye.

"Hi Salem" I sigh, watching as he jumps down from his cat tree and stretches before walking up to me, rubbing against my leg before walking over to his food bowl, clearly requesting the very late dinner I'm giving him. "I'm sorry boy, I guess I gotta get you one of those timed feeders now from the looks of it" I apologize and give him his food right away. 

I put a couple treats into his bowl as well as an apology and make my way back to my room to jump in the shower and think about everything that happened today. 

Jungkook basically admitted that he wants to get to know me better because he clearly feels like he can see a future between us and to be honest I pretty much feel the same way. It could be that we've caught a severe case of puppy love but I think we both know that this could potentially go somewhere. 

I love spending time with him and Juni, granted this is only the second time we've spent time together but still I can't get over the fact of how natural it all felt. Then he goes and pulls this whole pretend to be married business and now he's telling me he doesn't mind if the lines are blurred between us. 

This is all way too much for one day but I can't deny that I'm not enjoying the journey. This is progressing a whole lot faster than I thought it would but that doesn't necessarily mean that's a bad thing. I guess we've both got a whole lot of learning to do. 

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