#“are you asleep my love” I SMILE EVERY TIME

[tan1shere]

Hi could you do a fic where Billie announces that reader is pregnant?? Like you don’t understand how BAD I want a fic like this. Btw I love you’re fic

Pregnancy Announcement

A/n: yes ofc my love ! Hope this is good <3

Warnings - nothing just fluff ! || masterlist

"Hey you guys." Billie says softly. It was yet another stationhead live. The comments rolled in, people saying all sorts. It was early in the morning, you were snuggled into bed and frankly neither of you could sleep, you had already gotten up once to go puke, and it was only a matter of time before you go and do so again. Every day at around this time you'd spew 3 times. It was horrible, but it was all for something so amazing in the long run. "Just wanted to come on here. Answer some questions."

They fly by as she tries to read them. "Where's Y/n? She's asleep, something I should probably be doing. But I couldn't." She laughs a bit. "It's fine, just couldn't sleep." She says as the comments ask what's wrong. But her attention moves towards you as you toss in the bed. She knew exactly what that meant as you begin to sit up, rushing into the bathroom. The door was heard being closed hastily. Causing Billie to get up and follow. "Be right back you guys." She opens the door right as you were hurling. Coughing in the process.

Since the room was so quiet aside from that, it picked up on her phone quite clearly. You groan in pain as Billie sighs. "I wish I could take this agony away from you." She says softly, crouching and moving some hair from your face. "One more to go this morning." You sigh defeated. "You never know it could just be two this morning?" She says trying to keep you from worrying. You hated puking so this was definitely something you had to get use to for awhile. "I find that unlikely." You say closing your eyes and leaning into her touch, as her hand moves to rest against your cheek. "I'll be ok, go talk to your fans baby." She shakes her head. "I'm here for you, and that's a promise I'm keeping."

You faintly smile at her. Standing and looking in the mirror. "Hey, I'm actually kinda showing now!" You beam, distracting yourself from the horrible events earlier. She smiles wide, going to put her hand on the little bump. "God I'm so excited." She says. You kiss her. "Me too." You both go back out. You get into bed while Billie goes back to her phone seeing the comments blowing up.

"Oh my god, Y/n is pregnant?"

"Is Y/n pregnant???"

That was practically all that was zooming past. Billie freezes for a moment, mouthing something to you. "They know." You giggle at her petrified face. "That's ok, we were going to tell them eventually." You whisper. "Right... Well yes, she is pregnant. Surprise!" Billie chuckles. Not much of a surprise seeing as they all overheard you two. "Everyone's congratulating you, well us but yeah." You smile. "Thank you everyone!" You say.

Not at all how you guys planned to tell the fans, but the previous plan was still in motion just in case no one else knew. Which would be fairly impossible considering her update fan pages. They were always one step ahead. But you decide to do the post you originally were going to do. Billie adds the two positive pregnancy tests on the bed when she's done with that live. Getting the few pieces of clothing already bought and popping that into frame. She snaps the photo adding a few baby emojis.

"🍼👶"

She tags you near the top, posting it for the world to see.

Tags - @trulyy-yourzz @eilishslut @chrissv4mp @n0vabug @dollyvuu @dollarbils @sweetcherriexs @bilsdillldough @mystiquemm

[dinkerr]

thinking about vi as your wife ♡ (multiple recs put into one, nsfw under cut)

wife vi who cooks for you everyday. it's one of her love languages, taking time out of her day to make yours better with something she made for you. she has many cook books in her nerd collection, every recipe in there has been made by her and she's written down her overall rating of each recipe on every page. mention it to her momma and she'll show you videos of pow and vi making cheese toasties together my shaylas 🙁

wife vi who can't let go of you in the mornings. she is a super heavy sleeper and it doesn't matter what either of you have to do today, how important your job is or who you have plans to see. she WILL be hiding her face into your neck with her leg slung over you, or will be tucking you, the blanket and her childhood bunny plushie into her chest. especially when it's winter. you literally can't escape her.

wife vi who is never seen not wearing her ring and gives you the most baffled look when you're not wearing yours.

wife vi who pulls up in her 1966 cherry red ford mustang to pick you up, her ring shining from the reflection against the sun with i just died in your arms by cutting crew (DON'T laugh at me) playing and her heart shaped lips curling up into a smile when she sees your pretty face before you lean over to give her kisses.

wife vi who is good at art and buys and makes you gifts and gift baskets like this or this or this every time she feels like it. it doesn't even need to be valentines or your birthday or any occasion, she just wants to give.

wife vi who wants a rottweiler with you so fucking bad (to have a baby with you, and to protect you when shes not around even if you can handle yourself) but she knows that they're a massive responsibility and alot of work needs to be put into dogs, so you two settle on rescuing an old kitty from a shelter, a ginger one with a few missing teeth and sass as bad as vi's. his name is screwdriver. screwdriver sleeps in bed with you two every night.

wife vi who would lowkey be your house wife if you made big money... i can't stop thinking about this.

wife vi who would fall asleep on the couch like a dad while watching tv with you almost every single night, and when she's not doing that she's most definitely 110% passing out after you eat her pussy after you two finish dinner.

wife vi who is super into public sex because she likes the idea of it and also just needs you all the time that she should be locked away.

wife vi who would beg for you to let her eat you out under a table of in the bathroom of her dads bar when you're sitting in the car outside and about to go in, or would press the softest little kisses to your jaw, giving you her puppy eyes and asking you if you can put a vibrator on her clit when you two are about to leave the house.

wife vi who loves shower sex. sometimes when you two can't see eachother alot because you two leave for work at different times, both get home late and sometimes there just isn't enough time to fuck like how you both want. so she starts tongue fucking your pussy when you're washing your hair, and you do the exact same when she's washing hers!!

wife vi who's ceo of giving you back messages in the bath after sex. she's got you on her lap, face resting on her chest while her skilled hands search for your sore muscles, massaging the knots out when you press kisses to her collarbone.

this isnt very freaky pls don't kill me i'm just tired and need a lobotomy. but if you do want more freaky shit with wife vi lmk (mischievously rubs hands together 😈) i just know this is gonna flop miserably

@h0neymiel

[gay-dorito-dust]

Joaquin Torres x reader cuddling please ?

It was rare that you had got to have Joaquin like this, cuddled up in your shared bed, holding you close to his chest as his hands rubbed up and down your back soothingly as the movie you were originally watching became background noise.

‘Why are you so comfy?’ You said with your head burrowed into his neck, tightening your grip on his waist when you felt him move ever so slightly and you weren’t exactly all to eager to let go of him just yet, that and the fact that you wanted to leech off of his warmth just a little bit more. ‘It should be a crime to be this comfy.’ You add.

Joaquin smiles, he loved it when you were half asleep as it lead to you saying the most random but cutest things he’s ever heard, and he wasn’t going to complain about it when it was the highlight of his day especially when he comes back from months long missions with Sam and the military. He misses days like these where he could hold you against him and not worry about anything other then the fact that soon you’d both have to leave the others comfort to start the day, to get to be here in this moment with you regardless if you were doing something or not doing anything at all.

‘I’m afraid I don’t know the answer to that my heart,’ Joaquin kisses your shoulder, smiling to himself as he let this moment of peace wash over him, ‘but I’ll gladly accept it being a crime if it means having you cuddled to me like this every time I come home.’ He adds softly as he brings you closer to him as much as he could, allowing himself to sink into your embrace and be as selfish with it to his hearts desire.

You smiled against him as you raised a hand to ruin through his hair in a soothing manner. ‘I can’t help it, I miss you too much when you’re away.’ You admit as you pressed soft kisses against Joaquin’s neck before nosing the pulse point there, finding comfort in knowing that you got to spend another day holding him and loving him like you should, taking advantage of every moment you had with him and committing it to memory before his work takes him away from you again.

You didn’t hold it against Joaquin for being true to himself, if anything you admired it and often encouraged him to be the hero you knew he could be, an albeit selfless one who felts a need to prove himself -especially to Sam- and oftentimes ends up injured becuase of it; Joaquin only wanted to prove that he too was capable of holding his own within society where enhanced individuals were normal occurrences.

‘And I would never hold that against you my love,’ Joaquin reassured you softly, tightening his grip on you somewhat before continuing, ‘there are days where I wish I could just go home to your arms, go back to my safe space, go back to the one person who makes me feel safe and seen without having to try.’ He once again kisses your shoulder. ‘Which is why when I do get to come home, all I want to do is be with you constantly so that when I have to go I still have a piece of you with me to keep me company when we’re far apart.’ He finishes.

You moved your head away from his neck to look him within his beautiful and expressive eyes that you loved. ‘You’re such a sap my falcon.’ You booped Joaquin on the nose, giggling to yourself when he scrunched up his face dramatically, all the while he fights back a smile himself upon hearing you laugh. ‘Only for you my love, but I’m not the only sap here though am I?’ Joaquin retorts as he boops you on the nose in retaliation as he looked at you knowingly, his eyes twinkling with that youthful energy and enthusiasm you knew him for and fell for hard.

‘We’re just a pair of sappy people who love each other dearly beyond words could ever hope to convey.’ You say softly as you rest your head against his, audibly sighing as though you had been holding this in for far longer then you wanted, finally happy to have let it out and have it be towards the man you loved more then anything.

‘And we wouldn’t want it any other way.’ Joaquin replies as he pushes his head further against your own, closing his eyes as he focuses on you and how perfectly you fit against him, something he once thought was too good to be true to have something this nice; though Joaquin quickly decided to not keep wonder how he got so lucky and instead focusing on how much he needed moments like these, moments with you to remind him that he was just as deserving of softer and slower moments likes these.

‘I couldn’t possibly think of being anywhere other than here.’ You tell him, kissing his lips briefly as you moved your head to rest more comfortably upon his chest, feeling his heart within your ear and bringing you even more comfort in knowing that Joaquin Torres was a real man that you loved dearly as you felt the want for sleep grow the further you sunk into his warmth.

‘Me neither my love,’ Joaquin whispered, ‘me neither.’

[gnohomotho]

heyyy this is really specific and kinda silly buuuuut I'm really sick and feeling down.. could I request some Inho fluff? 🥺🥺🥺🥺

maybe some like ~caring for you~ & looking after you with a femreader? 👀😍 thank youuuuu and love your fics!!

Aw, Anon, I'm sorry you're feeling awful. :c Please have some kind In-ho fluffy TLC (I hope that still stands for "tender loving care").

Focused on the love and care! ♥♥♥

.

.

.

I'll Look After You

Pairing: Hwang In-ho // The Front Man x wife!fem!reader Summary: As the prompt says. ♥ But you aren't feeling well at all, and your husband, through anything from tea, to baths, to a massage, is going to keep the sickness away. Warnings: None at all. Just fluff. So much fluff. Word count: 2.4

If you like my works, I truly appreciate every like // reblog // follow! <3

A little stir in in the night.

As if you were having a bad dream. Without you knowing, In-ho’s eyes open in a fleeting second, the man doesn’t seem to sleep – only wait with hands intertwined laid across his chest as his breathing gets more level. You’ve tried to catch him several times, being ever-so-quiet, barely shifting the blanket – just to see him dreaming or peacefully at rest, yet that man could sense a spider’s step at the other end of the building and react accordingly.

But this time, you sat up, abruptly, after many tries at keeping your state to yourself and forcing a mental hammer to your temples just to remain at least half asleep. Your breath was fast, your head pounding, you put one hand against your face with a sigh.

“My heart?”

You hear a quiet, yet very alert voice next to you. The covers shift, and he is sitting upright next to you, in the exact same position as you are, seemingly immediately. Dark eyes fixed on you even in the semi-dark wherein you blink to adjust. You can make out your husband’s unassuming form, sitting in the comforting, quiet stillness; so very bare, so very…endearing.

Before you say anything, an arm is softly wrapping around you and pulling you closer. In-ho seemed at war with every millimetre of distance between you, especially in the night. Even in his stoic sleeping position, heaven help the blanket that got between your skin and his.

“I’m sorry, I just…I don’t feel too good. I didn’t wish to wake you, darling, truly. It’s probably nothing.”

You smile at him and your head pounds. The naked arm around your waist, forearm against the cold skin of your stomach and his hand firmly rested against you with fingers outstretched, remains in place. You feel a slight tightening of his grip, though it is protective, rather than forceful. His other hand moves to your chest with utmost care. It is a slow, noticeable movement – In-ho was purposefully showing you what he’s doing so that you don’t get stressed nor surprised.

The gesture melts your shivering heart a tad – that was always a point of contention between you two.

Using his dominant arm to half let you, half force you to rest against him and be upheld in place, In-ho was now free to assess. Somehow, your breath felt more at ease each time your chest bumped into his steady hand. You relax a little, glad for the support. Even in the darkness, his skin smells so familiar and safe, his almost naked body still exuding quiet authority, yet his arms and his…entirety shared with you…is so very human.

It’s just…your In-ho. No dark fabric or twisted words to cloud the very human skin now firmly rested against you. Even your legs are connected as he sits beside you.

At war with every molecule that would linger between you.

“Your heart rate is elevated, your breathing is…laboured.”

“In-ho, I feel fine just---”

“Don’t talk,” he humms, rubbing the top of your chest as he speaks, resting a palm against your sternum and across the nape of your neck, where his hand remains, “I can feel it must hurt to do so,” he adds, in a softer tone. You only shoot him a look in the darkness, knowing he is likely wearing that same caring, troubled, yet serene expression he always does when he is slightly worried or being obtuse.

In-ho moves to check further, resting a hand upon your pulsating head, cupping your cheek then resting a palm on your forehead.

“You’re burning up, my dear.”

Your eyebrows furrow, and you pull away, only to be caught by the arm around your waist and pulled back. There better not be a raised eyebrow in the dark, In-ho.

“If I’m running a fever, I don’t want you to get sick, I should get away from you immediately---”

“Oh, no.” A soft murmur and kiss on your shoulder. A brush of hair upon your skin underlines the gentleness of his lips.

“Oh, no. No. No.” With each “no” there is another kiss. Soft. Calm. Reassuring. So very gentle.

Eyes adjusting to the dark, you can make him out in the contrast and those eyes, almost unblinking, focusing their entirety on you with such…restrained tenderness.

Were you not feeling this way, you’d slowly move into his arms and hold him, hear his heartbeat and let him run his fingers through your hair as you rested against his chest. You valued the closeness, the intimacy, the still careful yet true love you felt for him, and he, in his unspoken way, in the way he nudged your bodies to connect to become one, the way he unwittingly wrapped around you, the way he would rest you in the crane of his neck or under his chin whispering things no one would believe him to say, could express more than words ever could.

And you knew the feeling of your sleepy head and soft strands of hair resting on his skin calmed him down, though he would never admit it. You knew by the way his breathing always seemed to slow and grow calm, letting his chest lift more rhythmically; by the way his fingers drew small ellipses through your hair, and by the way he twitched and immediately tightened his arm around you from shoulder wherein you rested all the way down to his wrist, should you try to even remotely adjust your position.

Now he was looking directly at you, any remains of sleep firmly gone from his voice.

“After securing Y/N within this exact position. Into this exact place. After so very long and after such effort – I am to simply let my wife walk away? When she is feeling ill, no less?”

You really aren’t in the mood for this In-ho. Perhaps the one who is busy with other matters and returns when you are feeling healthy again. That In-ho. That In-ho doesn’t exist, and you know it. You sigh, but there is an understanding smile lurking behind the breath.

“…In the middle of night? On the day of my daughter’s wedding? While I’m still holding my keys?” Your sarcastic yet sweet attempts to soften the blow did not work as intended, though you did hear a small chuckle. No, you just get yourself wrapped up in a blanket before you realise his arm is gone (the man really has surprising talent in the oddest of places) and a kiss on the forehead solidifies the deal you didn’t even get a chance to bargain about.

“Stay here,” he humms as he begins to get out of bed, smoothing the blanket behind him.

“Because I’m obviously going places, so very free to spread my wings.”

“Oh, my heart.” He looks at you with such adoration, head slightly leaning to one side. You’re not sure if he’s still playing or simply letting his guard down so very far. You allow yourself to smile into the darkness, closing your eyes. The tiredness and feeling of weakness draw your heavy head into the pillow and you drift off.

A small click beside your head stirs you half awake.

“In-ho?” You mumble and get ready to get up, forgetting your blanket enclosure.

“Shh. Don’t talk.”

In-ho gently caresses you through the blanket, then slides his hand inside, cupping your warmth for a while. He then softly takes your arm out and slides his fingers over yours, intertwining them with his, then closing his hand over your palm.

“Tea with medicine to your left, sweetheart.”

You’re very thankful and begin to say so, before a single look into those dark eyes firmly reminds you of the previous suggestion. Perhaps you don’t need the medicine after all, the fever will go down if he throws more ice in that stoic expression your way.

You lift the arm out of his grip, which he allows as patiently as he does slowly, and you lift the hot cup to your lips. It quivers in your grip, and he immediately steadies it, catching your hand on the hot surface.

“Drink.”

“In-ho, I can manage---

“Drink.”

There are times you forget who really rests beside you, and the nonchalant yet firm suggestion does its due diligence to remind you. You lift the cup to your lips and drink the comforting tea, with In-ho guiding the empty cup back to the bedstand with your hand in tow. He then slowly guides it back, still intertwined with his, and holds it to himself, massaging your palm with both his hands.

“I’m drawing you a bath,” he states, simply, and you know it’s going to be full of herbs and means of making you better, the towels as soft as snow, the floor warm. In-ho did not relish words, as they could be misconstrued and twisted, sounding flimsy and signifying nothing – but his actions could speak sonnets.

You sit up a bit, able to see him far better now – your In-ho, now only half naked, eyes calm yet piercing, mouth harbouring a small unnoticeable smile, demeanour calm yet alert. His shoulders ostensibly fall as you look longer, as if he’s trying to calm you down by looking calmer himself. Softly reaching a hand across your shoulders, he pulls your hair away from your neck and lets it rest across your chest to one side. His fingers trail around your neck at the very same time, as if he could not miss an opportunity for a caress and reassuring touch.

“Turn around, darling.”

And you do, still very much woozy. In-ho, now with your back to him, removes the rest of your hair from the nape of your neck and plants a tender kiss just between the bottom of your head and beginning of your shoulders.

“Dear, you’re tense.”

As he says so, you feel an arm softly pull at the blanket, brushing it against the skin of your upper arms and down, down, until it is resting against your forearms and around your waist. A shiver runs through you, trembling all in its wake like a small wave of ice. In-ho immediately catches it with both deliberate hands – firmly rubbing your shoulders and laying his chest against your back. The naked, hot skin, the rubbing motion creating heat, and the mere fact that it is him does help warm you a little, though he makes a mental note to adjust the heating once your attention is elsewhere.

Soft, intricate, yet firm hands, like those of a piano player, begin to move upwards and massage your neck, moving to the muscles around the very top of your spine. Circling, rubbing, and kneading all under their touch.

After a little while, they move to your shoulders. As if he was going through mounds and ossified waves of stress, heaviness, worry, sickness – and simply letting them dissolve in his fingers and slip through, leaving you be.

A grateful, alleviated sigh leaves your lips – and In-ho can hear the wide, if tired, smile upon them, kissing the sensitive place between your shoulder blades in response and remaining there for just a second longer than necessary. How does heat emanate from a single kiss and how does it cover your quivering body in the equivalent of warm honey from cold tip of the toe to the very place he kissed and up?

Once In-ho has touched, cherished, and unwrapped all of your upper body muscles from their layers of blocked pain and distress, he turns you around and lays you back down, laying with you. His arm is around your shoulders nudging your neck in its crane, his head is so close to yours you could kiss the tip of his nose, your bodies are as close as they can be without intertwining. Your eyes are softly closing on their own, feeling so blissfully tired and calm, as if a weight was lifted from every centimetre of your body. In-ho can see it, and watches it with very masked delight – your trust, your bliss, your comfort…your tranquillity in his arms.

Your peacefulness and loving eyes now closing in a slow, restful motion and a body at such ease that time seems to slip slower around the both of you – all under his watch, under his body, under his direct action and control. He slips errant strands of hair from your face, kissing your cheek where they rested. You smile into the kiss, eyes closing, and nudge your forehead against his. You remain like that, for a few seconds, just enjoying the closeness and the open pathways of your body that melted under his touch. His forehead does an ever-so-slight, almost unnoticeable side to side motion, and you cannot help but smile wide at the hidden adoration the man holds for you.

“I think your bath is almost ready,” a soft rumble from his enters your chest as he speaks, softly, into you more than to you, “but I find it hard to let you go.” As if to underline the words, In-ho’s leg nudges towards yours, caressing you through the blanket.

“Would you mind company?”

Now it was your turn to lift both eyebrows and attempt to disconnect from him just enough to be audible.

“I’m not sure.” You lower your head slightly to kiss his neck, an advantage you’ve learned to use every time he places you in such a loving yet firm embrace.

“Will the company be half as sweet as the company I hold now?” The hint of innocence and genuinely curious inflection did stir something in your companion, and you felt the grip tighten – then turn into a caress.

“Oh, I’ll make sure to leave them thoroughly yearning to wish they were.”

In-ho was a man of truly odd hidden talents. At one moment, you were wrapped up like a labyrinth of blankets, limbs, and kisses – the next, you were somehow firmly in his lifted embrace, holding onto his neck and shoulders with each arm, while his arms held you under your knees (which you instinctively squeezed half for stability, half for the snuggle) and around your back under your arms, making ample use of the space created by you having to cling upwards.

You blink, and without looking around, nestle in the small of his neck, laying your head in the comforting warmth as he adjusts you to himself with one motion and smiles into your hair. With another kiss, he carries you to the bath...

And does not leave.

[vamptizm]

azzi fudd gf headcanons — 𖦹₊ ⊹

this was a request but i totally forgot to write all this under the request thing.. so if that was you in my inbox, this is for u. i hope you don’t mind the few sprinkles of spicy stuff

ᯓᡣ𐭩 loves to share her stuff with you. whether it’s food or clothes or jewellery— even her lipgloss. she’s a firm believer of ‘sharing is caring.’

ᯓᡣ𐭩 she has a habit of letting you win. any competition you guys will have going on, she’ll let you win in a way where you won’t even notice it. she would do anything to see that proud smile on your face.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 such a softie but will flip that switch light speed when it comes to protecting and defending you. she’s like an affectionate cat with sharp claws.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 the two of you stay up late all the time. even when she has to be up early for practice or has a game the next day, she’ll stay up talking with you about everything under the stars until one of you knocks out.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 she leaves little notes in your pockets, backpacks, or just sticky notes around your place. some are sweet, some are just straight up nasty. from “hope you have a great day! ilysm.” to “can’t wait to have u sit on my face tn.” and some are just cute doodles that remind her of you.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 whenever you fall asleep first, she just watches you, tracing patterns on your arm, playing with your hair, and whispering “i love you” when she knows you won’t hear it.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 definitely prefers to stay in with you rather than go out. not only does she want to cuddle and watch movies in the comfort of her own home, but she wants you all to herself.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 pays such great attention to every little detail about you. what you like, dislike, said, did, want etc… she listens to everything you say and rarely forgets anything.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 will try to bake your favorite pastries and deserts for you, no matter how hard they might be. you want brownies or cookies? done. a whole 3 tier cake? she’ll try her best.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 gets all flustered and smiley when seeing you in her jersey. she loves the fact that you’re so proud of her, you’re willing to wear her name and number on you, wherever you go. especially when she’s fucking you in it.

[leviathansmistress]

Caving Heart

Pairings: Divorced Wife!Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

Tags/warnings: Allusions to sex, we rock with Wanda because Wanda rocks with us, angst then fluff :D

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

In which you're starting to let her in, once again...

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

This is Natasha looking at you, scrambling as you put your clothes on. You didn't know how it happened, she was just putting the kids to sleep and the next thing you know is she is putting you to bed as well.

"This is just one time, this will never happen again." You said calmly. Natasha could only bite her lip, she didn't say anything but the words cut deep in her chest.

For the first time after 3 years of being a fucking celibate—you had sex. A life changing, toe curling, breathtaking orgasm from the same person who gave you your first orgasm. Not that you literally practiced celibacy because you still had the vibrators and toys your wife actually bought when you were still together and not that you don't want to have sex but…you just can't—you can't with someone else.

Natasha was the first to worship your body, the one who loves tracing and kissing the stretch marks that etched in your thighs. She admired every part of you and with all honesty? You can't see anyone leveling how your ex-wife looked at you.

You were standing, fixing your clothes, ready to kick your ex-wife out of the house since it's already late at night. But then, you felt a strong arms wrapping your waist. "Baby, please…" She begged.

"Natasha, stop." You tried to remove her locked arms on your stomach but her grip was strong.

"Baby please, I'm sorry." She kissed your shoulders over and over. "Please forgive me, I want you back. I want you back Y/N. I need you back." She cried. "I need you baby please. I'm sorry. I love you so much, please."

You started crying as well but you held your stance, you tried to thrash away from her grasp but whenever you try to move away Natasha makes sure to not let you go, not this time—not anymore.

"Natasha, stop." You hissed, wiping the tears from your face. "Jesus, you'll wake the kids up." But she did not say anything despite your angry tone, you can only hear her cry and sob behind you, her forehead pressed against the back of your shoulder.

And it went on the rest of the night. Both of you standing and crying in each other's embraces.

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

Your friend, Wanda, the godmother of your children, decided to visit you at your home, bringing you some tea and a real tea.

"I told you Mrs. Hart's husband was cheating with the chief." She said with a wide eye, pouring you some tea she made.

"Well, that one is actually not included on my bingo card this year…" you chuckled lightly. Then, there was a knock that interrupted your tea with your friend and your first born immediately ran to get it.

"Mom!" She squeaked, Natasha easily brought her up using just her right arm. You watched as she peppered her kisses before putting your daughter down. Meanwhile, your friend, Wanda, switched her shocked eyes between you and Natasha. She watched as your ex-wife handed you a huge bouquet of flowers and kissed your temple.

"Ashana's asleep." That was the only thing you said, then Natasha nodded. She gave Wanda a smile before heading upstairs.

When Wanda was sure your ex-wife was already gone upstairs, she switched from being a nosey neighbor to being a detective that needed some answers.

"What exactly was that?" She left her mouth open, you're afraid a fly might come in.

"What?" you giggled playfully.

"That!" She now hissed, pointing at the stairs of your house. "And that too." She pointed to the bouquet of yellow daffodils in your hand.

"Stairs..? And flowers?" you laughed, blushing at the satisfaction you're feeling with your friend's interrogation.

"Oh, c'mon don't play stupid. Since uh when." She sassed.

"Since last week."

"Last week and you didn't tell me?"

"Well, this is the first time we saw each other again so how am I supposed to tell you?" You defended, transferring the flowers from the vase.

"Girl, don't you have a phone?" She barked, standing and she motioned towards you. "Daffodils, daffodils, daffodils…" she said in a sing-song snapping her body to lean on the counter where you have been fixing the flowers, you cannot help but laugh at her silly movements. "Did you know that daffodils mean a new beginning? A start of something fresh—whether it's a new relationship or an existing one. So what's the deal huh? You two?" she asked, scrunching her nose. You hide yourself behind the bouquet of the flowers but your friend snatched it away from you.

"You're such a bitch, you're blushing!" She whacked the bouquet playfully on your face and you immediately dodged it.

"Noooo!" You whined, retrieving the flower back.

"Look who's in love? Hm?"

"Who?" you asked innocently, focusing on putting the daffodils on the vase.

"This bitch right here." She whispered before attacking your sides with her fingers.

"Wanda! If Shane heard you cursing again, I swear…" you warned, swatting her hands away.

She made an offensive look, palming her chest, "Hey, don't bring the kids in here. I have been nothing but a good influence auntie."

"Shane said you called someone a bitch in the market."

"Because she cut through our line." Wanda defended. "Damn, I can't believe my homegirl will snitch me. But anyway, I need to go now. I will pick my twinsies to school." She rushed to hug you, then she proceeded to get her keys and purse.

"Thank you, Wands." You walked her to the door but then, she stopped, right at the doorway and turned to look at you.

"Daffodils means a new beginning…and a new life." She started. You tilt your head before breaking into a laughter, forcing her to turn around.

"Hey, hey wai—aw!" She grabbed your hands away from her shoulder and held it firmly in front of her. "I just wanna say, I am ready for another goddaughter."

"Okay. No." She let go of your hand and immediately ran away from the porch of your house.

"You're not sure about that my friend!"

"I hate you!" you shout.

"I love you too, sis!"

You waved as your friend finally drove away from your house. When you got inside, you saw Natasha coming down the stairs. "Where's Shane?" you asked her.

"Asleep." She trailed behind you, as you went to the dining room.

Your phone vibrated behind your ass but you ignored it. "Did you eat?" you looked at her, already grabbing a plate for her. You knew Natasha so well, she doesn't eat lunch and if she does, it's always late. She hugged you from behind, wrapping her arms around your stomach.

"Nope." She said, while her face was buried on your shoulders. You hummed already expecting that answer from her.

"I'll reheat the lunch." You touched the side of her head. The phone vibrated again, but you chose to check it later.

"I was thinking of eating something else." She mumbled.

"Oh…do you wanna order?" You asked, feeling offended she doesn't want to eat the food you cooked for lunch and Natasha immediately sensed it.

"Nope, food's here." She said lazily, wrapping you tightly in her embrace.

Finally understanding what she meant, you slapped the side of her thigh so hard that she let out a cry.

"I was just joking." She cried as she stepped back, rubbing her thigh. Well, she actually was not joking.

Then, your phone buzzed just right behind your ass for the third time now. You took the device from your pocket and read the message that was from your friend.

Are you having sex with your ex-wife right now?

Reply 'ugh' if you are doing some baby making activities with your ex-wife.

Okay, I'll take the no replies as a sign that I am having another goddaughter or godson soon. I love being a fairy godmother!

[star-har]

pancakes

gojo satoru | fluff (mild nsfw?, like if u rlly rlly squint)

the morning sun filters through the curtains, casting golden light across the room. you’re still half-asleep, cocooned in blankets, when you hear the soft clink of dishes from the kitchen.

your brows furrow. gojo doesn’t cook.

blinking against the light, you drag yourself out of bed, padding toward the kitchen after lazily brushing your teeth and washing your face. and there he is—standing by the counter, hair a mess, wearing nothing but a pair of pajama bottoms.

the golden hues of the sun dance across the smooth expanse of his skin, all toned abs and lean muscle built into every inch of his frame—he looks as if he’s been carved from stone by some greek god. you wouldn’t be surprised if he was.

“what are you doing?” your voice is hoarse with sleep, amusement curling at the edges.

“making breakfast for my wife,” he says, too casually. you glance at the stove—pancakes, or at least an attempt at them. the batter is too thick, one side slightly burned.

a small laugh slips from your lips. “you can’t cook, sweetheart. remember, you were banned from the kitchen.” you muster a snort as you recall his last encounter with breakfast—he’d melted the plastic spatula and set the pan on fire.

he scowls, as if he knows exactly what you’re thinking of. “really? can’t recall that..” he wonders thoughtfully, scratching his chin. then he jumps when he catches the burnt crust of the pancake on the pan. he hurriedly flips it and ignores your narrowing eyes.

“right.” you step closer, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind, chin resting at his muscled back. he’s warm, solid, and smells faintly of vanilla and coffee. “and what’s the occasion?”

you trail your fingers down the expanse of his back, tracing the pink scratches there, still lingering from the night before.

his hands still for a second before he flips a pancake—badly. “dunno.” clearly, he’s not letting go of this quickly-formed grudge.

you smile to yourself as you lift your head slightly, peering at his face. his ears are pink.

a slow smile spreads across your lips. “you just wanted to do something nice for me, huh?”

“shut up,” he grumbles, but you can hear the smile in his voice.

you turn him around, pressing up on your toes to kiss the corner of his mouth, lips barely brushing his skin. “it’s cute.”

his hands find your hips, grip tightening just slightly. “you’re cute.”

he dips down, sweeping you into a kiss. there’s a taste of coffee in his mouth as he slants his tongue to yours, sighing against your mouth as his hands slide down your tank, grabbing your ass.

you laugh and pull away, and his response is to kiss you again, deeper this time—if it’s even possible.

you speak against his mouth, fingers running circles over his skin. “you gonna feed me or let me starve?”

he tilts his head back, gold light hitting his snowy lashes, pretending to think. “i’d say i’m practically already feeding you, no?”

“oh, is that right?”

to emphasize his words, he sinks down, capturing your mouth with his own as he pulls you flush against his hips. your stomach flutters, legs buckling beneath you. if not for his grip anchoring you in place, you’d have already collapsed.

“there’s plenty more where that came from, too.” his grin is wicked.

your knees are so weak. “is that so?”

he pulls you closer, dragging his mouth from your lips to your cheek, your jaw, below your ear where he places a soft kiss. “that depends, though.”

“on what?” you say, but it comes out more as a breathy whisper.

he leans in, lips grazing your ear. “on how you plan to thank me.”

a laugh bubbles out of you. “eat first,” you murmur, tugging him closer. “then we’ll talk.”

he practically inhales his pancakes. you do too.

———

I love not writing smut but suggesting at it it’s sm fun (sorry ill get there one day)

[wlwsoccerfics]

Little Tillie(KatieMcCabeXCaitlinFoordXBabyReader)

Summary: your Mommy has a hard time letting you leave with your momma for national camp.

Your Mommy was laying on the floor with you. She had to put you down because you were supposed to do some tummy time. Something you hated with passion. Which you let her know by crying. Trying to look at her but your head felt extra heavy today. You mastered the task of rolling over on your own though. So that was something.

"i hate to see her upset! That's my little Angel right there! I won't see her for like two weeks and the last hours i have with her is her crying over tummy time? No not today!" Katie stated and looked at Caitlin.

"you are such a Softie!" You hear your momma say to your Mommy. Which was true.

"i don't care! How can i say no to this perfect little Girl?" Your mommy asked and picked you up. You stopped crying right away and cuddled up to her. Glancing over at your momma like she had just offended you with that stupid tummy time and your Mommy came to safe the day.

"she got you wrapped around her little Fingers!" Your momma said. "But i understand that you are going to miss her. I promise that we gonna Facetime you every day and i will sent you lots of Pictures and Videos!" Your momma told your Mommy.

"i never was apart from her for that long, so i am not looking forward to that! And i am gonna miss you as well." She let your momma know. Your Mommy kissed your momma.

"next time you can take her, my Love! Right now with me nursing her it's just easier!" You hear your momma say. Your eyes starting to feel heavy and you couldn't stay awake for much longer, so you cuddled up more to your Mommy. She kissed your head gently and held you close. Caitlin taking a picture of the two of you.

"that will be my new Lockscreen!" Your momma said.

"i need one of you and her as well so i can have a new Lockscreen!" Your mommy stated.

It was time to say goodbye to your mommy and you didn't like that at all.

"See you in two weeks, Baby Girl!" Katie stated and kissed your forehead. You still had the Baby death grip ,so you were holding onto her shirt quite tightly.

"that's gonna be fun!" Caitlin answered and tried to take you into her arms. You started crying softly. Katie gave you a kiss on the cheek.

"it's okay sweet Angel! You gonna have so much fun with Momma!" She told you but you didn't want to let go of your Mommy just yet. Only when your momma started singing your favorite song you stopped holding onto Katie so tightly and let your Momma take you into her arms. You then cuddled up to her.

"you cracked the code, Babe!" Your Mommy told your momma. She nodded her head softly.

"yes looks like it!" Your momma said with a soft smile.

Your auntie Steph and your auntie Kyra picked you and your momma up and you drove to the Airport together. You ended up falling asleep in the Car. Your momma wasn't sure If this was a good thing or not cause she for sure wanted you to sleep on the plane. Good thing you liked to sleep alot.

"how did the goodbye with Katie Go?" Steph asked.

"Little one hated it! She isn't used to being apart from either of us really." Your momma answered.

"she is gonna be fine. So is Katie." Kyra said softly.

"i know, it still sucked!" Your momma admitted.

You slept the entire drive and part of the flight before waking up and your momma having to nurse you. You were quite hungry. Only stopping when you were really full.

"well someone was really hungry!" She stated. You smiled at her, totally Milk drunk.

When you reached your Destination and your Hotel your momma didn't even have a Chance to fully make it out of the Van before your auntie Macca scooped you up.

"there is my perfect little niece!" She happily said. You smile at her.

"hello to you too, Macca!" Your momma said with a soft laugh.

"hello Caitlin! Sorry! I just got really excited!" She admitted.

"i can tell!" Your momma answered. You happily sucked on your little Fingers. Letting everyone that wanted to hold you taking turns. The next two weeks were filled with hugs and cuddles for you. So it wasn't too bad.

[777bae]

A LOVE THAT GROWS WILLIAM EKLUND

Summary :: William Eklund is a dedicated partner and father, supporting you through pregnancy, late-night cravings, and building the nursery. His love deepens with every milestone, always cheering on your daughter. (REQUESTED :: pregnancy -> girldad)

Warnings :: pregnancy

Word count :: 4.0k

You never thought you could love William Eklund more than you already did. From the moment you met him, he had been warm, kind, and full of life. But now, as you sit on the couch, your hand resting on your growing belly, you realize that love has a way of expanding—just like the life forming inside of you.

William had been over the moon when you first told him you were pregnant. You still remember the way his blue eyes widened, the way his lips parted in disbelief before curving into the biggest, most beautiful smile you’d ever seen. He had wrapped you in his arms, lifting you off the ground as he spun you around, laughing in pure joy.

He had always been attentive, but now, he was completely devoted. Some nights, when he thought you were asleep, he would trace gentle patterns over your skin, talking to her like she was already here.

“She’s going to be so beautiful,” he murmured one evening, his fingers brushing over your stomach. “Just like her mama.”

You let out a sleepy laugh, reaching to run your fingers through his soft hair. “You’re really in love with her already, aren’t you?”

William lifted his head, his hazel eyes shining with a warmth that made your heart ache in the best way. “Completely,” he admitted.

Every morning, before he leaves for practice, he kneels in front of you, pressing a soft kiss to your belly and murmuring sweet nothings in Swedish, his voice low and full of adoration. Sometimes he hums a lullaby, his fingers tracing light circles over your stomach, as if he’s already trying to soothe the baby inside. He always tells her he loves her, even before she’s here, and sometimes, if you’re lucky, she kicks in response, making his eyes go wide with awe.

“She knows her papa already,” he whispers, resting his cheek against your belly with a tender smile.

You swear he never stops thinking about you. When he comes home after a long day of practice, sweat still clinging to his skin, his first words aren’t about hockey or how training went. They’re always about you.

“How are my girls?” he asks, dropping his bag by the door and immediately walking over to you. He kneels down in front of the couch, his hands finding your belly first before he leans up to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips.

If your feet are swollen, he’s on the floor before you can even complain, rubbing slow, careful circles into your aching skin. His hands, rough from hockey, are warm and soothing as he kneads the tension away, pressing kisses to your ankle between strokes.

“You’re doing so much already,” he murmurs, gazing up at you with so much love it almost takes your breath away. “Let me take care of you.”

And he does—constantly.

When you wake up nauseous in the middle of the night, barely making it to the bathroom, he’s right behind you, gathering your hair and rubbing your back as you tremble over the sink. He whispers reassurances, pressing his lips to your temple as he holds you up.

“I’ve got you,” he says softly, waiting until you feel steady enough before guiding you back to bed. He disappears for only a moment, returning with a cold washcloth to press to your forehead, along with a glass of water and a handful of crackers.

He never lets you lift a finger. Laundry? Already done. Dishes? Washed and put away before you even notice. One time, you wake up to find him assembling a crib in the middle of the nursery at 2 a.m., struggling with the instructions but determined to finish before you wake up.

“I wanted to surprise you,” he admits sheepishly when you catch him, his hair a mess, frustration evident in the way his brows are furrowed. “I swear, the instructions make no sense.”

You laugh, shaking your head as you step closer, resting a hand on his shoulder. “You could’ve waited until morning.”

“I know,” he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. Then he looks at the half-finished crib before glancing back at you, his expression softening. “But I just… I want everything to be perfect for her.”

Your heart melts at the sincerity in his voice.

William has always been the type to put others first, but now, with you carrying his child, he takes it to another level. When you’re out running errands together, he always insists on carrying the heavier bags, even if it’s just a carton of milk. If he notices you looking tired, he gently tugs you into his side, his arm wrapping around your waist as he kisses the top of your head.

And then there are the cravings.

One night, you’re curled up on the couch, barely paying attention to the movie playing, when the sudden, desperate need for chocolate-covered pretzels hits you.

“Will?” you mumble sleepily.

“Hmm?” He glances over from his spot beside you, already tucking the blanket tighter around your legs.

“I think I need chocolate-covered pretzels.”

He blinks, then checks his phone. “It’s almost midnight.”

“I know,” you sigh dramatically, pouting up at him. “But they sound so good right now.”

He shakes his head, laughing softly. “You and our daughter are really putting me to work, huh?”

Still, he doesn’t hesitate. Within minutes, he’s pulling on his hoodie and grabbing his car keys.

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he interrupts gently, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “I’ll be back soon, okay?”

Twenty minutes later, he’s back, triumphant, holding up not one but three different brands of chocolate-covered pretzels.

“I didn’t know which ones you’d want,” he explains, setting them on your lap with a proud grin. “So I got them all.”

It’s in moments like these that you realize just how lucky you are.

One night, after a particularly long day, you find yourself overwhelmed with emotions. You’re exhausted, sore, and your hormones are making you cry over everything. William finds you sitting on the edge of the bed, silent tears slipping down your cheeks as you rub at your swollen belly.

“Baby,” he whispers, immediately kneeling in front of you. His hands frame your face, thumbs wiping away your tears. “What’s wrong?”

You sniffle, shaking your head. “I don’t know. I just… I feel huge, and everything hurts, and I’m so tired.”

He listens, his face soft with understanding as he gently pulls you into his arms.

“You’re growing a whole human,” he reminds you, pressing his lips against your hair. “It’s okay to feel this way. But you’re not just beautiful, you’re incredible.”

You close your eyes, sinking into his warmth. “I love you.”

“I love you more,” he whispers.

That night, he holds you a little closer, his hand never straying from your belly, as if he’s silently promising to always be there for both of you.

And in that moment, you know—he always will be.

The moment your daughter enters the world, William changes forever.

You’ve never seen him cry much, but the second he hears her tiny, wobbly cry, he shatters. Tears spill down his cheeks, his lips parting in a stunned breath as he stares at the little miracle in the doctor’s hands. His hands shake when they finally place her in his arms, his entire world shifting in an instant.

She’s so small, wrapped in a soft hospital blanket, her delicate features scrunched up as she whimpers. A tuft of light brown hair, just like his, sticks up slightly at the top of her head. His breath catches as he studies her, as if memorizing every perfect little detail.

“Hi, älskling,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. His fingertip brushes over her tiny fingers, marveling at how impossibly soft they feel. When she instinctively grips his pinky, a broken laugh escapes him, followed by another round of silent tears. He leans forward, pressing a reverent kiss to her forehead, his voice nothing more than a whisper. “I’m your papa.”

And just like that, his heart belongs to her.

Even when the nurses gently take her for checkups, his body tenses as he watches every movement, as if ready to jump up and protect her at any moment. He’s at your side immediately, his hand gripping yours, but his eyes never leave her. The second they place her back in his arms, he cradles her like she’s made of glass, like the entire universe exists within her tiny frame.

The world has faded away. It’s just her now—just the two of you, wrapped around William Eklund’s heart forever.

From the very first night, William is the most devoted father.

Late-night diaper changes? He’s up before you can even blink, moving with a surprising grace despite his exhaustion. He rocks her in his arms, humming a soft Swedish lullaby, his voice a gentle vibration against her tiny body. Even when she fusses, even when sleep is a distant memory, he never complains.

“Shh, älskling, Papa’s here,” he whispers, rubbing circles into her back, swaying gently in the dim glow of the nursery light. His lips brush over her downy hair, his expression one of pure, unwavering love.

Bathtime becomes a sacred ritual. He kneels beside the tub, rolling up his sleeves as he carefully washes her, his touch so delicate, as if afraid he might break her. When she kicks her little feet and splashes him, he laughs, a deep, genuine sound that makes her coo in response.

“Oh, so you think that’s funny, huh?” he teases, flicking a few droplets back at her. “You’re already causing trouble.”

Tummy time? He’s right there on the floor with her, stretched out beside her as he makes exaggerated faces and noises, determined to get a reaction. When she finally lifts her head for the first time, he gasps dramatically, clapping his hands.

“She’s so strong!” he exclaims, looking over at you like she just won an Olympic medal. “Did you see that? She’s a natural.”

But the real magic happens when she starts recognizing him—when her big, bright eyes light up at the sight of him. The first time she reaches for him with her chubby little hands, his heart nearly stops. And when she giggles—her very first laugh—it breaks him completely.

“Did you hear that?” he gasps, eyes wide with amazement as he turns to you. “She laughed! She thinks I’m funny!”

From that moment on, he becomes addicted to making her laugh. He makes the silliest faces, the goofiest voices, anything to hear that perfect little sound.

She’s his little princess, and there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for her.

When she insists on wearing a tutu and fairy wings to the grocery store, he doesn’t even hesitate. He scoops her up, balancing her effortlessly on his hip, nodding seriously as she waves her imaginary wand over the vegetables.

“Oh no,” he gasps dramatically. “Did you just turn me into a frog?”

She giggles, tapping his nose. “No, Papa! You’re a prince.”

He places a hand over his heart, feigning relief. “Phew. I was worried there for a second.”

When she decides he needs a “makeover,” he sits cross-legged on the floor, letting her carefully paint his nails with bright pink polish. His hands are far too big for the tiny brush, and her strokes are uneven, but he never flinches—only smiles as she sticks her tongue out in concentration.

“She’s got a future in this,” he tells you, admiring his very messy, very pink nails. “Think she’ll give me a discount as her first client?”

He tucks her into bed every single night, no matter how exhausted he is, no matter how late he gets home from a road trip. The second he walks through the door, his priority is always her. He scoops her up in his arms, pressing kisses to her cheeks as she sleepily mumbles, “Papa…”

“I missed you, älskling,” he murmurs, settling her against his chest as he reads her bedtime stories. His voice is warm and animated, changing tones for every character, making her giggle.

“Again, Papa!” she pleads, her little hands tugging at his jersey.

He sighs dramatically, pretending to think about it. “Hmm…okay, but only because you’re so cute.”

Some nights, when she’s sound asleep, he sneaks into her room just to watch her, brushing a stray curl from her forehead. His heart swells in his chest, his voice barely a whisper.

“I love you, älskling. Always.”

As she grew, his devotion only deepened.

He was the dad who carried her everywhere, even when she was big enough to walk, because “she likes being close.” He was the one who let her put tiny bows in his hair, who sat through tea parties with a tiara on his head, who held her little hand as they danced around the living room to her favorite songs.

“She’s got me wrapped around her finger,” he admitted to you one night, watching her sleep, her tiny body curled up against his chest.

You smiled, resting your head against his shoulder. “I don’t think that’s a bad thing.”

William only chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Not at all.”

She’s two years old the first time she steps onto the ice.

Bundled up in layers, her tiny body almost swallowed by the oversized jacket you insisted she wear, she waddles onto the rink, her skates barely keeping up with her enthusiasm. William is right there, kneeling in front of her, his hands outstretched, ready to catch her at any moment. His eyes are soft, full of warmth and pride, even before she’s taken her first glide.

“You got this, älskling,” he coaxes gently, his voice full of encouragement as he steadies her wobbly frame.

Her tiny hands clutch his fingers so tightly, like she knows he’s her lifeline. Her brows furrow in determination as she plants her skates firmly on the ice, but balance isn’t her strong suit just yet. Within seconds, her legs slide out from under her, and she plops onto the ice with a soft thud.

William freezes for a moment, his breath catching, but then she looks up at him, her cheeks flushed pink from the cold, and giggles. The sound melts him completely.

“Oh, you think that’s funny, huh?” he teases, chuckling as he kneels down and helps her up, brushing imaginary snowflakes from her padded jacket. “That’s okay—we fall and get back up, right?”

She nods eagerly, mimicking the way he straightens his shoulders. “Again!”

And so they try again. And again. And again.

Every time she falls, William picks her up without hesitation, his grip steady, his encouragement endless. He makes a game out of it, playfully pretending to slip himself just to make her laugh. But when she finally manages to push off on her own, gliding a few inches before coming to a wobbly stop, she gasps in excitement.

“I did it!”

William lets out a loud cheer, sweeping her up into his arms, spinning her around in celebration. His laugh is bright, uninhibited, full of pride as he presses an exaggerated kiss to her cold nose.

“Did you see that, Mama?” he shouts over to you, eyes shining with pure joy. “She’s a natural!”

From that moment on, she’s not just his little girl—she’s his biggest fan.

Every game day, she dresses in her tiny Sharks jersey, the name EKLUND printed across the back in bold white letters. It’s a mini replica of William’s own, and it’s slightly oversized on her small frame, the sleeves nearly swallowing her hands. But she insists on wearing it, proudly pointing to the letters as she tells anyone who will listen, “Papa’s number 72!”

You take her to every home game, and as soon as you settle into your seats, she’s perched eagerly on your lap, bouncing with excitement. Her eyes scan the ice, searching for him, and the moment William skates out for warmups, she’s already pressing her tiny hands against the glass.

“Papa!” she squeals, her voice high and full of joy. She taps her fingers eagerly, trying to get his attention. “Look! It’s Papa!”

William always finds you both, no matter what. Even in the chaos of warmups, even with music blaring through the arena, his gaze instinctively searches for his girls. The second he spots her, his entire face softens, and he grins, skating toward the glass.

He taps his stick twice—his little secret signal just for her.

She squeals in delight, pressing her palm to the glass as if she can reach through and hold his hand. He presses his glove to the same spot, mirroring her, before giving you a wink.

The bond they share is undeniable. She watches him with complete fascination, her eyes never leaving him as he skates, as he passes the puck, as he moves effortlessly across the ice. She cheers when everyone else does, clapping her little hands, even if she doesn’t fully understand the game just yet.

But the moment she sees him on the big screen, her excitement reaches a whole new level.

“PAPA!” she shouts, pointing frantically at the Jumbotron. “Look! It’s Papa!”

You can’t help but laugh, pulling her closer as she beams with pride. The people around you smile fondly, watching her tiny body practically vibrating with excitement. And on the ice, William glances up at the screen, catching sight of her pointing wildly. He shakes his head with a grin, mouthing a quick I love you before refocusing on the game.

William never stops being her biggest supporter.

When she’s five, she has her first dance recital. She’s a bundle of excitement and nerves, dressed in a sparkly tutu, her hair curled perfectly for the occasion. William is right there, sitting front row, his phone up and recording every second like a proud dad who doesn’t want to miss a thing. You’re right beside him, your heart swelling with pride as you watch your little girl step into the spotlight.

“She’s gonna be great,” you whisper, squeezing his arm.

“She’s already great,” he replies, eyes locked on her as she takes her place on stage.

The music starts, and even though she misses a step or two, to William, she is perfect. He cheers louder than anyone in the room when the recital ends, clapping so hard his palms turn red. You can feel your own pride radiating from him, the warmth in his gaze as he watches her run up to him, still buzzing with excitement. He scoops her into his arms without hesitation.

“You were amazing, älskling,” he says, spinning her around. “A star, just like I knew you’d be.”

She beams up at him, holding tight to the flowers he brought her—tiny pink roses, because he knows they’re her favorite. “Did you really like it, Papa?”

“I loved it,” he promises. “I’ll always love anything you do.”

And he means it, his gaze soft as he looks between you both. It’s clear that his world is right here in this moment, with you by his side, and her in his arms.

No matter how tough or busy his days are, William is always there when she needs him. When she wakes up crying from a nightmare, she knows exactly where to go. She tiptoes into your room, dragging her stuffed bunny by the ear, sniffling softly. Without hesitation, she climbs into bed between you both, curling into her father’s warmth.

William stirs almost immediately, as if his soul is wired to respond to her even in sleep. He shifts, pulling her against his chest, his voice low and soothing.

“Shh, baby,” he murmurs in Swedish, rubbing slow circles on her back. “It’s okay. Papa’s got you.”

You smile softly at the sight of them, the way his hand instinctively moves to comfort her, knowing she’s safe in his arms. She hiccups a little, still caught in the remnants of whatever had scared her, but his steady voice and familiar embrace work faster than any lullaby. He hums softly, whispering words of reassurance, kissing the top of her head like he has since the day she was born.

Within minutes, she’s breathing evenly again, safe in her father’s arms.

And even though the bed is now a little too crowded, even though he has practice early in the morning, William wouldn’t change a thing. Because this is what being a dad is—being the one she turns to, always, and you’re right there with him, holding your daughter close, loving her as much as he does.

The morning she starts school, William is a mess.

She looks so small with her tiny backpack, her shoes barely making a sound as she shuffles toward the front door. She’s excited—practically bouncing with anticipation—but William? He’s not ready.

“She’s too small for this,” he says, running his hands over his face as he watches her zip up her jacket. “She’s still my baby.”

You laugh softly, lacing your fingers through his, squeezing gently. “She always will be.”

But that doesn’t make it any easier.

At drop-off, she turns to him, her big, curious eyes shining as she holds her arms up for one last hug. He kneels down, pulling her in tightly, breathing in the familiar scent of her strawberry shampoo. You feel your own heart ache as you watch them.

“You’re gonna have the best day, älskling,” he tells her, voice thick with emotion. “And when you get home, you can tell me everything, okay?”

She nods, her little arms squeezing his neck. “Okay, Papa.”

And then, before he’s ready, she lets go.

He watches her walk inside, his heart clenching with every step she takes away from him. When the doors close behind her, he lets out a shaky breath, rubbing at his eyes.

“You’re crying,” you tease, nudging him gently, not bothering to hide the soft smile on your lips.

“No, I’m not,” he huffs, clearing his throat. “It’s just…dust. Or something.”

But the way he keeps staring at the doors says otherwise.

“She’s growing up too fast,” he mutters, shaking his head.

You smile, resting your head against his shoulder. “She’s got the best dad to help her through it.”

Years later, when she’s a teenager, William is still just as soft—just as devoted.

He’s the dad who stays up late, pretending he wasn’t anxiously checking the time when she’s out with friends. The moment he hears the front door creak open, he’s there in the living room, arms crossed, raising an eyebrow.

“Have fun?” he asks casually, like he wasn’t just worried sick.

She sighs dramatically, rolling her eyes. “Yes, Papa. I’m fine.”

You watch William’s face soften as he breathes out. “Good.” Then, softer, “I just like knowing you’re safe.”

She smiles at that, knowing deep down that he’ll always be the one who cares the most.

William is the dad who takes her on coffee dates just to check in, who listens—really listens—when she vents about school or friends or life. He doesn’t judge—just offers quiet advice, a steady presence when she needs him most. And you? You’re right there with him, standing as a united front for your daughter, always ready to support her.

And he’s still the dad who hugs her just as tightly as when she was little, no matter how much she grows.

No matter how old she gets, she will always be his little girl.

The years pass, and one day, she’s not so little anymore. She’s walking across a stage in her cap and gown, she’s packing for college, she’s chasing dreams that once felt so far away. William watches it all happen, pride and heartache mixing in equal measure. You stand beside him, both of you reflecting on the little girl who once wobbled on skates, now standing tall, ready to take on the world.

Wasn’t it just yesterday that she was pressing tiny hands against the glass, cheering him on?

Time moves fast, but one thing never changes—his love for her, and the love you share for her, too.

Because William Eklund was born to be a girl dad. And no matter how many years pass, no matter how much she grows, he wouldn’t trade it for the world. And neither would you.

[fizzing-imagines]

Scar | Billy Hargrove x Reader

Notes: Some Billy fluff. I hope you enjoy! 🤍

Words: 836

Warnings: None

"What's wrong?", you mumbled half-asleep as you saw Billy pacing up-and-down the room. He tries to shush his pain-fillen groans in order to not wake you up, but it was unsuccessful. From a look on the dugital clock on your nightstand, you could tell it was 2 in the morning. "Backpain.", he mumbled while stretching his arms in the air. His doctor gave him some instructions on how he could ease the pain, but it barely helped. On the other hand, he didn't want to take too many pills against the pain, since he didn't want to end up addicted to them.

"You don't have to act tough, Billy.", you said while getting up from your shared bed. "No, (Y/N), go back to bed. I'll be fine." Against his best wishes, you got up and walked over to him. "Through sickness and health, we said." This was always your argument when his back killed him.

The incident at Starcourt Mall was ten years ago. You two met when he was recovering at the hospital; he had to get his spine reconstructed, you were in treatment for a broken femur. Meeting him was all by faith when you two were grabbing the same candy bar in the giftshop. Billy let you have it under the condition that you'd go out with him.

After many dates at the hospital, you two became a couple and got married 3 years later. While your femur healed with no issues, Billy was still struggling with fibrosis. It was one of the reasons why you two decided not to have any kids.

"You know you have to take your medication if it hurts too much.", you told him. But he just shook his head and groaned again. "I don't wanna.", your husband mumbled. With a sigh, you lifted his shirt and took a close look at the scar tissue. "It's inflamed, honey.", you mumbled. "Go on, lay down. I got it." But he was pretty reluctant.

Billy felt bad about needing help from you. He should be the one to take care of you, protect you, hold you at night. Instead, he spend his nights awake in pain and bothering you, keeping you from getting a good nights rest. What kind of husband does that.

"Billy.", you cupped his face between your hands. "Billy, what happened to you is not your fault. Let me help you." Eventually, you got him to lay on the bed, although reluctantly. "I know you don't like this. But I wanna help you." Since his scar flared up so many times, you kept a bottle of lotion in the nightstand drawer. It was one of the few things that made him fall back to sleep when he was in pain.

"You married a useless man.", he mumbled while you were already massaging the inflamed area. "No I didn't, I married the man I love."

"You're up at night to take care of someone who can't even protect you. I can't even give you pleasure most days." His voice was filled with frustration and anger, although the anger was more directed against himself. You kept massaging his scar while listening. "Why would you even stay with someone like me? I was supposed to be better by now."

"Honey, I'm not with you for being protected or having sex. I'm with you because of you. Because you make me laugh, you make me happy, and because you love me." You explained. Billy underneath you was starting to get drowsy, and only mumbled in a sleepy tone after that.

"I wanna be the husband you deserve.", he said. But you dismissed his words with ease. "You are the husband I deserve. Because you love me." A small grumble escaped his throat. "Remember how you took me to The Getty because I mentioned it once? Or how you always pay for my nails?" A small smile played on his lips. Your face was adorable when he told you he'd take you to The Getty.

"That's how you show me you love me. And this is how I show you." Your fingers hit just the right spots for him to fall back into a slumber. It was honestly amazing how you knew just how to hit the right spots.

Like every time when this happened, you leaned foward to give him a kiss on the cheek. "Good night, Billy.", you whispered in his ear. Just like that, he was snorring underneath you.

He'd never know how you'd stay up for another hour every time and massage his scar until your fingers felt numb. You couldn't deal with seeing him in pain, especially when he was so tired already.

This is how you showed him you love him. In your wedding vows, you said "In sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part." This is how you cherished him through his sickness.

It was all worth it when you could fall asleep next to him afterwards.

[sapphicaeri]

my prettiest problem

pairing: giselle x fem reader

genre: smut

word count: 1.7k

notes: this is the first fic i've written in a while so it's rather short but i promise it'll get longer (and better)

On a cold, wintery night in Seoul, you find yourself dozing off in your girlfriend’s bed. You shake your head a few times and blink quickly as if that will keep you awake. She had been gone for hours as she had to rehearse for her group’s upcoming comeback. Being an idol’s secret significant other was not easy but Aeri was more than worth it. You look over at your phone. It was almost midnight, typically when she would come back from practice. As if she knew you were thinking about her, a notification with her name on it pops up.

Almost home, sleepyhead.

You react to the message with a heart and smile to yourself. Of course, she knows you’re falling asleep, you both have been through this nightly routine a million times.

Within a few minutes, you hear the four girls chattering and laughing as they enter the dorm. They say their goodnights to one another, and then the bedroom door slowly opens. Aeri walks in, sees you snuggled up in her bed, and smiles brightly.

“It took you long enough,” you jokingly whisper under your breath loud enough for her to hear. She drops her bag on the floor and rolls her eyes playfully. “Sorry,” she says in a singsong voice as she takes off her jacket. For some reason, you can’t help but watch her intently, she was that good-looking.

“Like what you see?” This time you roll your eyes and ignore the bait. The lack of a response triggers something deep inside of her. Aeri cocks her head to the side and glares right back at you. She begins to pull her sweaty t-shirt over her head slowly. You restrain yourself from visibly reacting, but on the inside, you feel heat traveling to every part of your body. Your eyes dropped to her chest. Of course, she was wearing your favorite bra of hers. It was a lacy, white bra that could barely hold her full breasts up. Continuing to tease you, she loosened the drawstring on her sweats, dropping them to the ground in one motion. She was wearing a matching thong. Fuck.

You instinctively shut your eyes, unable to control your emotions for much longer. She smirks and struts towards the bed intently. She firmly grips your chin and tilts your head upwards. “Look at me,” she whispers. You shut your eyes tighter, once again trying to ignore her words that had such an intense effect on you. Aeri then wraps her hand around the back of your neck and pushes your head against her boobs. A moan escapes from your lips immediately, signaling your defeat.

Lacing her fingers through your hair, she tugs at the strands to make you look up at her. You obediently open your eyes but try to avoid her fiery gaze. Aeri leans down slightly and plants a quick kiss on the corner of your lips. You grip her waist and pull her closer, practically begging for more. To no avail, Aeri stands her ground and just looks at you, eyes narrowed in disappointment. “Tell me. Do you like what you see, baby?” Her voice was as raspy and sultry as ever. You managed to nod your head but you both knew that wouldn’t be enough.

Aeri steps back and unhooks her bra, letting the straps slide down her arms without letting it fall off completely. She turns her back to you, her ass on full display. “I’ll just go take a shower so we can get ready for bed, yeah?” You can’t see her face but you know she’s smirking. Aeri was always confident about her hold on you. As much as you didn’t want to, you knew you had to show her how badly you wanted her because god did you want her bad. “I love what I see, Aeri,” you begin, “Please.” She turns back around, letting the useless bra descend to the ground. Her boobs bounce gently as she walks back towards you.

When she’s within reach, you stretch your arms out and pull her between your legs. Your hands drop to her ass, gripping both cheeks roughly. Now, it was your turn. Aeri bites her bottom lip to suppress a moan as you tug on the waistband of her panties. Without any hesitation, she grabs your hands and guides them downwards to take her underwear off. Aeri’s fully exposed body left you breathless. From head to toe, she was perfect. Nothing could compare to the masterpiece that was her.

You lean forward and plant kisses across her toned stomach, moving farther down with each one. Once you reach her mound, you stop, causing her to whine out. “Please,” she begs as if she were about to cry. Ignoring her pleas, you stand up to take off your clothes as well. You pull her into an embrace and kiss her hard. The kiss becomes sloppy within milliseconds, the two of you were so desperate for each other. Reluctantly breaking the kiss, Aeri steps forward and gently pushes you onto your back in the bed.

She climbs on top of you and straddles one of your legs. You can feel her wetness on your bare thigh as she begins to roll her hips slowly. Her soft moans begin to fill the room and you can’t help but moan too. She flips her pink hair out of her face and throws her head back, speeding up as she grows needier. You place your hands on her waist to slow her down and she cries out. “I need more, I want to cum for you,” she says breathlessly. The pure lust and desire on her face made it nearly impossible to continue to tease her, you needed to give in.

The sight of her immaculate body moving in the most perfect ways made you ache even more between your legs. From the way her breasts moved in time with her hips to the way she furrowed her brows and bit her lip, you couldn’t take it anymore. You grab her wrists abruptly and pull her towards you. “Ride me.”

Aeri quickly gets up and positions herself so that she’s kneeling right over your face. You wrap your arms around her thighs and slowly lower her. Her pussy is glistening and almost dripping. She needs this just as bad as you do. You slide your tongue between her lips and earn the loudest moan yet. You shush her, as the other three girls were probably still awake. She nods her head in agreement with her eyes shut tight. You start again, this time licking her clit with the tip of your tongue. Her body begins to shake and you can sense her struggling to hold back her sweet moans.

“Oh fuck,” she curses when you flatten your tongue and start to bob your head slowly. Her hands tighten around yours, almost cutting off your circulation but you couldn’t care less. You keep eating her out just the way she likes it. Your tongue slips between her folds repeatedly and you almost can’t believe how addicting she tastes. Her quiet squeals turn into loud, throaty moans the second you start to suck on her clit. You keep sucking, pushing your tongue against her clit while you do, driving her completely insane.

“I’m going to cum,” she almost yells. You try to shush her but she slaps the back of your hand away as if to beg you to focus on only her and her clit. You grip her ass and pull her as close as you can, sucking faster and faster. Aeri can’t believe how euphoric she feels right now, every inch of her body reacting to your actions. Before she can warn you, she starts crying out and shaking uncontrollably, suffocating you with her lower half as she cums all over your face.

Your tongue slows down as she rides out her climax. Aeri almost falls forward but braces herself against the wall before lying down beside you. You turn over and kiss her, allowing her to taste herself. She puts a hand on your cheek and kisses you back, her tongue moving in sync against yours. Your hand trails down her side, following her curves perfectly, slowly making their way to her legs.

You’re running out of breath but wouldn’t dare break this kiss. You push your hand between her legs and spread them slightly, tracing shapes on her inner thigh. Her breath hitches at the thought of what’s coming next. You drag your finger from her dripping hole to her pulsing clit. She moans right into your mouth and spreads her legs wider for you.

You take your chance to slip two of your fingers inside of her, stretching her out all too quickly. Aeri lets out a long moan in response, her hole clenching around your digits. You start pumping your fingers in and out slowly, curling them upwards slightly. The way her body writhes and the sounds she makes rile you up even more. You have total control over her and her body.

Aeri couldn’t think straight, all her thoughts were jumbled together. One thing she did know is that she needed you in this moment more than anything. “More,” she begged. Obeying her commands, you push your fingers as far as you can and pump them in and out faster. Her slick was dripping down your fingers and onto your palm. “Does it feel good, baby?” “Yes,” she blurts out in response, “It feels so fucking good. I’m going to cum again.” Her moans increase in volume and frequency as you bring her closer to the edge. You push your fingers against her spot and rub against it as you pump your fingers. This elicits a sultry moan from Aeri as she begins to cum all over your fingers.

You remove your fingers from inside of her and she whines in disappointment. You push your fingers past her lips and she sucks on them obediently. “That’s my good girl.” The praise makes her pussy ache again. You remove your fingers from her mouth and replace them with your lips.

“The girls definitely heard you,” you say in between kisses. Aeri bites your bottom lip hard. “I couldn’t help it,” she says, redness creeping across her cheeks. You kiss her cheek and smile, “I know.” She rolls her eyes at your cockiness and pouts cutely. “Yeah, yeah,” she retorts. You lock eyes with her, admiring how deep and brown they are. “What am I going to do with you, Aeri?“ you begin, “You’re my prettiest problem."

[itshonestlynotme]

I ADORE your potter-black family posts. Could you please write something about reader finding out she’s pregnant OR like reader and regulus talking about having another kid and they’re worried about how harry will feel cuz they don’t want him to feel replaced? ILY MUAH

Harry meets Danny

Harry meets his little sister Danny.

[Regulus Black x fem Potter! reader]

word count: 899 words

warnings: fluff, mentions of pregnancy, harry being a cutie patootie

note: I love this prompt so much.

-

The soft glow of candlelight filled the cozy Black-Potter living room, casting flickering shadows along the walls. Outside, snowflakes drifted down like bits of silver confetti, frosting the windows in delicate lace patterns. Y/N sat curled up on the couch, one hand resting on the small but unmistakable curve of her stomach. Across from her, Regulus paced with the anxiety of a man who once battled dark forces but now faced something infinitely more daunting: telling Harry he was going to have a sibling.

"You're going to wear a hole in the rug," Y/N murmured, a smile tugging at her lips.

"I'm trying to figure out the right words," Regulus said, stopping mid-stride. He ran a hand through his hair, his brow furrowed. "How do you tell a six-year-old that everything is about to change?"

Y/N patted the cushion beside her. "We tell him with love. And honesty." She tilted her head toward the staircase. "He's probably still awake, you know."

Regulus sighed, resigned, and climbed the stairs. Moments later, he returned, Harry perched sleepily on his hip. The boy's messy black hair stuck out at odd angles, his green eyes blinking in the dim light.

"Mama? Baba?" Harry rubbed his eyes. "Why am I awake?"

Regulus settled Harry between them on the couch. Y/N shifted to face him fully, brushing his hair back fondly.

"We have something important to tell you," she began.

Harry's eyes widened. "Is it bad?"

"No, sweetheart," Y/N said softly. "It's something wonderful." She exchanged a glance with Regulus before taking a breath. "You're going to be a big brother."

Harry froze. He looked from Y/N's belly to Regulus, and then back again. "A brother?"

"Or a sister," Regulus said. "We don't know yet."

Harry's mouth formed a small "o." Silence stretched between them like a fragile thread.

"Are you excited?" Y/N asked, her voice gentle.

Harry's legs swung against the couch. "I dunno. Will you still have time for me?"

Y/N's heart cracked at the uncertainty in his voice. She pulled him into her arms, cradling him tightly. "Oh, my love. There is nothing and no one that could ever replace you. You made us parents. And we will always have time for you. Always."

Harry sniffled into her shoulder. "Promise?"

"I swear it," Y/N said.

Regulus leaned in and kissed the crown of Harry's head. "You'll never be alone, Harry. You'll have us. And you'll have a little brother or sister to protect, to teach...maybe even to prank if you inherit any of your Uncle Sirius's tendencies."

That earned a watery giggle. Harry looked up. "I get to teach them stuff?"

"Absolutely," Y/N said with a smile. "Like how to fly a broom and sneak extra biscuits from the kitchen when Baba isn't looking."

"Oi!" Regulus shot her a look of mock disapproval, but his eyes were warm.

Harry's grin grew. "Okay," he whispered. "I think being a big brother sounds kinda cool."

Y/N pressed a kiss to his forehead. "You're going to be the best big brother ever, sweetheart."

That night, after Harry had fallen asleep between them, one hand resting protectively on Y/N's belly, Regulus whispered into the darkness, "He's going to be okay. We're going to be okay."

Y/N laced her fingers with his. "We already are."

-

The sun was barely peeking over the horizon when six-year-old Harry Potter-Black was woken up by the sound of soft footsteps. His wild hair stuck up in every direction as he rubbed his eyes and squinted at the doorway of his bedroom.

His Baba stood there, hair disheveled, an uncharacteristically wide grin on his usually serious face.

"Harry," Regulus whispered, voice thick with emotion. "She's here. Your sister's here."

Harry didn't need any more convincing. He scrambled out of bed, heart racing with excitement. "She's really here?" he asked breathlessly.

Regulus held out his hand, and Harry grabbed it tightly as they padded down the hall toward the master bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, and Harry peeked in.

His Mama was propped up against pillows, hair damp and face glowing with a tired but radiant smile. In her arms was a tiny bundle wrapped in a soft, moon-patterned blanket.

"Hi, sweetheart," Y/N whispered as Harry hesitated in the doorway. "Come meet your sister."

Harry crept forward, eyes wide. "She's so small," he breathed, standing on his tiptoes to see better.

"Would you like to hold her?" Y/N asked softly.

Harry's green eyes shot up to hers. "Can I?"

Y/N nodded, shifting slightly as Regulus moved to sit beside her, guiding Harry into the safe space between them. With infinite care, they helped him cradle the tiny baby.

"This is Danica," Y/N said, brushing a gentle finger along the baby's soft cheek. "Danica Potter-Black."

"Danny," Harry whispered, staring at the delicate face. "Hi, Danny. I'm your big brother. I'm gonna take care of you forever."

Danica gave a tiny sigh, her tiny fingers curling into a fist. Harry's heart melted.

"She's like a morning star," he whispered.

Regulus wrapped an arm around his son. "That's exactly what her name means, Harry. Morning star."

Harry beamed. "I love her already."

Y/N felt her heart squeeze with happiness as she met Regulus's gaze over their children's heads. At that moment, their little family felt complete.

-

previous chapter <- -> next chapter

[just-dreaming-marvel]

A Princess & Her Knight ~ 2

A PRINCESS & HER KNIGHT MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,000ish

Summary: Logan's first day as your protector.

Notes: I promise the chapters will get longer. Please send in reactions!

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

“I heard that Sir Logan has been assigned as your personal knight,” your lady’s maid, Anne Marie, stated as she helped you ready for bed.

“Yes. My father believes that I need a babysitter,” you responded. “And while I love my father, his choice of knight is questionable.”

“I don’t know. Sir Logan is handsome.”

You rolled your eyes. “He’s grumpy and gruff. He also follows every rule. It’s boring.”

“It’s only because he’s a good knight. He respects his King and his position.”

“I respect my King and my position, but can’t a girl have a little fun? I doubt that Logan even knows what fun is.”

“And I’m sure that you’ll show him soon enough.”

You smirked. “I’m sure I’ll show him tonight.”

~~~

Logan knew that his new position didn’t technically begin until the morning, but he had a feeling that he needed to check over the passages he knew the exits to before heading to bed. And he was right. There you were, slipping out of one and into the garden.

“Princess,” his annoyance was clear as he called out for you.

You turned around, not surprised to see that Logan was out here. “Sir Logan,” you greeted, like you didn’t just get caught breaking your father’s recent rule for you.

“You should be in bed.”

“So should you. You need to rest before your start your new position tomorrow.”

“Seems like I’ll be starting it now.” He came over and gently grabbed your wrist. “Let’s go. You can show me how to get back to your room through the passage.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I will.”

Logan huffed in annoyance but didn’t argue further. He had a feeling that he would be arguing with you enough for a life time. “Let’s get you back to your chambers so that I can get a guard posted at that passage.”

“You’re no fun.”

“I’m not here for fun. I’m here to keep you safe, Princess.”

“Fun and safety can go hand in hand. Or you could learn to live a little.”

Logan opted to stay silent, already growing tired of your poking at him. You took his silence as your first mini victory and allowed him to lead you to your chambers without a fight. He let your wrist go once you had reached your door.

“Good night, Princess,” he said, “and please get some rest instead of wandering around.”

“I’ll try, Sir Logan,” you responded. “I will see you in the morning.”

~~~

Logan had Bobby at your door that morning before Anna Marie was even there to get you ready for the day. Bobby knew how important this assignment was and how it was a great honor to be partnered with Logan to protect the Princess.

“Hi, Bobby,” Anna Marie greeted as she came to the door. 

“Miss,” he replied with a nod. 

“I heard you were working with Logan now. He sure has his hands full with you and the Princess.”

“I am going to try my best to not be too much of a handful.”

“Yes, well the Princess isn’t going to be trying at all.”

“Then I better make sure I’m on my best behavior.”

Anna Marie smiled before she slipped into your chambers. You were sound asleep in your bed, allowing Anna Marie to get your things ready before she got you ready for the day. You had a pretty regular day planned out for you: breakfast with your father, sitting in some of your father’s meetings, lunch, tea with your Aunt Cassandra, and then the rest of the day was yours. 

“Y/N,” she said softly as she gently shook you awake.

You groaned as you began to come to. “No… Let me sleep.”

Anna Maria giggled at your usual antics. “You have the whole morning booked out, Princess. It’s time to wake up.”

“Fine.” You opened your eyes. “But if I’m grumpy that’s your fault.”

“My fault? Or is it the fact that you have a new knight over you today.”

“Both.”

“I will only take blame for what I have part in.”

You huffed as you sat up. “Fine. Let’s get me ready for another boring day.”

~~~

Logan followed you around like a shadow. His armor clinked in only the way his did, due to how stiff and rigid he walked. Bobby drifted in and out, allowing for Logan to have breaks. Logan’s breaks were brief, you barely noticed that he left. It was clear that he took his assignment seriously. Almost too seriously.

Before you knew it, it was time for your afternoon tea in the garden with your Aunt Cassandra, your father’s sister. Being six years younger than your father and unmarried, she was seen as a large disappointment to the Court and many in the kingdom. You had a relationship with her, but on your terms. She was controlling and, though she always denied it, jealous that you were heir to the throne while she was stuck to the sidelines. 

The Duchess Ororo Munroe was also set to join you and your aunt for tea. She was ten years older than you and already a widow. She was always grateful for your father as a King because in any other kingdom she would lose her status when her husband died. But instead, Ororo got to keep her land, title, and appointment in the Court. You loved her. She was fiery and fierce. Ororo trained with the guards frequently. You were always in awe at her skill and wished that someone was willing to train you.

“It’s a beautiful day out,” Ororo commented, looking at the surrounding gardens.

“It is,” you agreed.

“It would be prettier if the gardeners would have trimmed the hedges like I told them to,” Cassandra added.

Ororo sent you an annoyed look and rolled her eyes. You smirked behind your cup. Your aunt always found the littlest of things to complain about when she wasn’t saying snide remarks about how she would run the kingdom.

“I see that our dear Princess here as a new babysitter,” Ororo teased, glancing behind you at Logan.

“Yes,” your replied, setting your cup down. “My father is worried for my safety.”

“And your recklessness I assume.”

“He is fond of my recklessness. Father just believes that I need more protection right now.”

“Well, if I were in charge, you wouldn’t get away with most of what you do,” Cassandra added. “You don’t take your title serious enough. If you were my daughter—“

“I’m not. So we don’t have to worry about what you would do, especially since I am the heir to the throne. Not you.”

Cassandra’s jaw clenched as anger flashed across her hateful eyes. Her fingers tapped against the table as she tried to chose her next words carefully. Before she could say anything more, you stood up.

“I believe I have some personal matters to attend to,” you said. “Thank you for the invite for tea, Aunt. It was good to see you, Duchess.”

Then you headed off into the garden, with Logan close behind. He stayed silent as he followed you, though grew more and more curious as you got to the edge of the gardens. You exited the gardens, revealing the stable. You walked straight for it.

“Princess,” one of the stable boys greeted. “Would you like me to get your horse ready?”

“Please,” you responded. “And prepare Sir Logan’s horse as well.”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

“Princess,” Logan called. “You are in no attire to go riding.”

“I’ll be fine,” you waved him off. “If you don’t want to tag along, you don’t have to.”

“We must tell the castle.”

“We’ll be fine. Stop being so grumpy. Have a little fun.”

“Your Highness, you are supposed listen to me. You told the King—“

“I am listening to you and I’m choosing to ignore at the moment.”

“Your Highness,” the stable boy exited. “The horses are ready.”

“Thank you.”

You walked into the stable, paying no mind to your attire. You walked up to your horse, greeted him with a loving pet before jumping on. Princess’ were supposed to ride side saddle while in a dress, but you didn’t care to. As you as you were settled onto your horse, you headed out towards the open fields. Logan huffed as he mounted his own horse and quickly followed after you. You rode through the open fields, enjoying the wind against your face and ignoring the man following close behind. 

You rode until you reached the end of the field, where there was a large stone wall, signaling the end to the castle grounds. You stopped and stared up at the wall. Logan came to a halt beside you.

“Do you think I could scale the wall?” You wondered aloud. 

“I don’t think it would be wise, Princess,” Logan responded.

“Why?” You looked over at him. “You don't think I could do it?” 

He remained silent. You took that as a challenge. You slid off of your horse and walked up to the wall.

“Princess, stop,” Logan ordered, but you ignored him. 

You found a spot where there was some lower stones poking out enough for you to step on. You kicked off your shoes and stepped onto the first stone. Before you could go any further, firm hands were on your waist, pulling you away from the wall.

“Let me go, Logan!” You demanded. “I am the Princess!”

“And it is my job to make sure you don’t kill yourself,” he grumbled, keeping his grip on you as he walked towards the horses. 

Logan lifted you up, onto yours before turning around to get your shoes. Before he could reach them, you were off your horse and trying to climb the wall again. He grunted disapprovingly as he quickly stuffed the shoes into the satchel on your horse before returning to you. You had climbed up using a few of the stones at this point.

“Princess, get down!” Logan ordered.

“Oh, come on, Logan,” you replied, throwing him teasing smirk, “live a little.”

“I’m serious.”

“Okay, serious, come up here and get me.”

Before Logan could make a move to chase after you, you tried to move your foot up more and slipped. You let out a squeal as you went falling down to the ground. Logan swiftly caught you, preventing you from crashing to the dirt.

“Princess! Are you alright?” He immediately began scanning you for injuries. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” you answered, catching your breath to try to calm your hammering heart. 

“Are you sure?”

“I’m fine, Logan. Just scared me a little.”

He carried you back to your horse and helped you on. He kept checking you over, his eyes looking to see if he missed something.

“We should head back,” Logan stated before getting onto his horse. 

Logan leaned over and took your reins, tying them to his saddle, and then leading you back to the castle. You stayed silent, knowing that there was no point in arguing with Logan. He escorted you back to your chambers and quickly put Bobby outside your door before heading to talk to the King.

“Your daughter is reckless,” Logan stated as he burst into the King’s office. “The Princess has absolutely no regard for her own safety.”

“So I assume you had an interesting first day,” Charles said with a chuckle.

“She tried to scale the wall! The wall!”

Charles laughed harder. “That’s a new one.”

“This isn’t funny, Charles. What you have given me is an impossible task. She’s impossible!”

“May I remind you that you are talking to your King about the Princess.”

Logan sighed. “Yes. Sorry, Your Majesty.”

“I can tell that my daughter has gotten under your skin. Unfortunately, Logan, I believe that you are the only one who can handle her so your assignment stays.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

“Is she injured at all?”

“No, I caught her before anything could happen.”

“Then I say it was a successful first day.”

next chapter >

[cringe--is--dead]

Would You Fall in Love with Me Again?

Umemiya Hajime x Reader

You often heard the saying ‘time flies’ as a child, and you rarely found yourself believing it. Adulthood and the freedom you sought appeared so far away, and now, you realized how true that statement was.

It felt as if once you grew old enough to learn to balance freedom with responsibility, your aging never stopped. One moment you were a child, listening to fairy tales from your mother, and the next you were betrothed.

Your husband was a sweet man, he was kind and he made you happy. He was strong and fierce, and you, along with your country, saw and knew this. You had met at a party, hosted by some nobleman your family knew. There had been nothing romantic about it, the stories you fell asleep to spoke nothing of a man falling out of a tree mere inches in front of you.

You hadn’t even been able to feel anything other than panic— but luckily the worst he had was a sore back, and a bruised ego. Once your adrenaline had died down, the first thing you noticed was how blue his eyes were. The next was that his hair, as tangled with leaves as it was, was as white as the sugar cubes your older brother snuck for you.

That night of conversation led to more, and it felt like one day you woke up as the wife of Umemiya Hajime, the crowned ruler of Furin. Your meeting may not have been magical, but your wedding night had put stories to shame.

“Your Highness?”

You hummed, not tearing your eyes from where you were watching your daughter run around the garden, chasing a butterfly as the creature fluttered from flower to flower.

“Some of the suitors are requesting an audience with you, madame.”

Hajime had built this garden for you, every fruit grown was one of your favorites, every flower he had planted had meaning. Baby’s breath, red camellias, pink carnations, chamomile, white clovers, forget-me-nots. You had refused to ever plant anything else, the garden remained unchanged for years.

“Shall I turn them away?”

How you wished to say yes, to demand her to tell them to just leave. To take their sorry-hides and leave your kingdom, your land, your country, to never return. How you wished even more to tell them to gouge out their leering eyes, throw themselves into the sea they claimed took your husband.

Instead you stood, brushing your dress to lay flat, turning to your hear lady-in-waiting, sending her a small smile. “No, I shall see them.”

“Are you certain?”

For years men had come to your kingdom, your home, to request your hand. They acted as if the empty space in your bed was an opportunity for them, that the ring you still held onto was merely decorative. For years you turned them down, for years you held onto hope that your husband would return to you.

But men grew impatient, and your people became weary. You had to begin to entertain them, all the while your heart screamed for your husband, begged you to give him more time to return to you.

Your daughter, seeing you stand, left her butterfly hunt to rush over to you, the smile that matched her father’s painting her face. “We’re going inside now?”

You brushed her hair out of her face, the wavy curls that reminded you so much of Hajime, but the color that matched yours. Her smile was contagious, and you sent her one back, “Yes my dear. I believe you need a bath.”

At this, she made a face, cheeks puffed in an exaggerated pout. She hated bath time, she hated all the pampering she faced during and after. She was a free spirit, opting to play in the gardens. Hajime had left for war while you were pregnant, and the pair had never been able to meet, but every night since she was born you told her stories of her father. Of the man he was, the man he is.

You often woke in tears, dreams of your husband and daughter laughing in the gardens ringing in your ears. You only hoped one day they may come true.

“Now,” You turned back to your lady, “Have them gather in the foyer, refuse them any wine or ale they ask of, however. I don’t wish for any of them to be drunk when hearing what I have to offer.”

“Of course, my lady,” She bowed, heading inside, the worry in her eyes apparent.

Your daughter tugged your hand, “When can I have wine and ale?”

At this, you laughed, reaching to bring her to your chest, “Not for a long time my dear, I highly doubt you would enjoy them.”

She grumbled as the pair of your made your way inside, unknowing of the pair of eyes that tracked the two of you moving.

You had a small group of women working for you that you trusted with your life, of women you knew were faithful to you, and you alone. Years ago that number had been larger. You handed your daughter off to them, cited to have her bathed and ready for her afternoon nap, as unhappy as she was about this plan.

You took a moment for yourself, steeling the courage you needed. You held power, you could command armies worth of men should you need it, but you so often felt afraid without the comfort of your husband with you. But you refused to show this to these men. Once your main lady returned to you, you made your way where the entourage was awaiting you.

The doors opened, and whatever conversations that had been had paused. All eyes were on you, and you felt your skin crawl at the disgusting thoughts you could feel pouring towards you. But you kept your head high as you walked, making your way to the front.

You said nothing as you took your seat, refusing to stand when speaking to anyone. They didn’t deserve that, half of them hadn’t even waited for you to give birth to your daughter before showing up, seeking your hand, claiming your husband had no doubt perished at war.

“I suppose you all have waited long enough,” Was how you began speaking, pausing to allow the sneers and jeers to echo the room.

“I propose a challenge for all those still wishing for the throne, all those aiming for my hand.” Your left hand brushed your hair from your face, aiming to show how you still adorned your wedding ring, a challenge in itself.

“My husband had made many allies for us, and these allies are tough, formidable men. I have reached out to many, and have since then received my answers.” With a nod of yours, the side doors were opened, and more men filled in. For them, you stood, walking towards your husbands allies— his friends— to greet them.

“Shishitorin has been Furin’s closest allies for years, and have been a reason we have been able to hold our own against opponents who came to steal power. The only man who has ever held his own against their own leader, was my husband. No man had ever come close.”

It was a rare sight to see Togame serious, but it was even more rare to see Choji without his smile. Their letters in response had read serious, and you knew they wished to do what they could to ensure these suitors were unable to get their hands on you— or the throne.

They looked ready to kill, as did the rest of their men that arrived with them. They would play nice, as Choji stated in a letter, for you and your daughter.

“If any man can defeat their five strongest fighters, including Sir Togame and Sir Tomiyama, then they have proven themselves worthy for the throne, for the crown, and my hand.”

It appeared simple in writing, but you had been there when Furin and Shishitorin had begun their companionship. You had witnessed the blood shed, the tears, and the pain that came, and had been privileged to witness the relationship that came after. Had it not been for their strength for you to fall back on, you worry grief would have had you years ago.

“May the most worthy man win,” You nodded at the group of men, turning to nod at the guests, before taking your leave.

Murmurs broke out behind you, and for once, you heard the worry in the voices of the suitors. It filled you with a level of vindication you hadn’t known one could feel.

You knew there were very few men able to win five consecutive fights against Shishitorin’s strongest fighters, even if there was nothing on the line. But now your friends were armed with the determination to ensure your husbands place remained untouched, you felt strongly that no one would even come close to winning.

Despite the confidence you had in your friends, your heart still hammered, and you couldn’t fight the tears that filled your eyes. Silently sobbing was something you had long since mastered, you refused to appear weak in front of the men who had taken residence in your home, show fear to your daughter who looked up to you so.

You took a moment to collect yourself, eyes screwed tight as you willed the inevitable headache to leave you be. Knowing it was unavoidable, you continued down the hall, making your way to your daughter’s room. To no surprise, she wasn’t asleep.

“My dear,” You sighed dramatically, making your way to her bed, “I told you a growing girl needs ample rest.”

“I’m not tired!” The same old song and dance, truly.

“No? You woke so early this morning,” An exaggerated yawn left your mouth, “Even I find myself in need of an afternoon nap today.”

She narrowed her eyes at you, “You can nap with me, then. I guess that’s fine.”

“How gracious of you, my little princess,” You shifted to lay beside her, allowing her to move to lay so her head was on your chest, ear against your heart.

It was quiet for a bit, your fingers carding through her hair. At one point, you had thought she’d fallen asleep.

“Mama?”

You hummed, “Yes, my dear?”

“Am I ever going to meet daddy?”

It may have been less painful had she plunged a dagger into your chest, but you schooled that pain, your hand continued to brush through her hair, “You will, little princess, one day.”

“But when?”

“I don’t know,” Admitting that felt the same as admitting defeat, but you couldn’t lie to her.

She was quiet for another moment, “Do you think he’ll like me?”

That was enough to give you pause, and you moved her to look at you, noting the tears in her eyes.

“He loved you the moment I told him I was pregnant with you,” You brushed the first tear that fell away, “He often spoke to you in my belly when you moved around in the morning, he sang you lullabies every night, even before your ears had begun to form.”

You tickled the tips of her ears, her little giggles easing the ache in your chest, “He cried more than I did when he had to leave before you were born. He promised you, the day he left, he was fighting for me, and for you. He promised nothing would stop him from returning to us, that he’d destroy anything nature sent his way— every storm, every whirlpool. He’d even fight the gods should he have had to.”

“Is that where he is? Fighting gods?”

“Perhaps, or perhaps he’s commanding the storms to bring him home to us, and clouds aren’t the greatest with directions.”

She smiled, but it dimmed after a second, chewing her lip before speaking, her voice quiet, “Some of the men here said he was dead… said you were in- in denying that he was dead. They said I need a dad, that you need a King.”

The hatred you had in your heart originally swelled, and you felt anger eat at your heart, and she continued, “But I knew they were liars! I have a dad, and when he’s back they’ll have to leave!”

“That’s right,” You smiled at her, a forced feeling, “Now, my dear, a nap will do us both well.”

She laid down, her eyes fluttering shut soon after. You felt yourself drift off with her, the feeling of anger still fresh in your chest. You hadn’t realized how tired you were, until you were woken hours later. The sun had begun setting, the sky a bleeding red. Your heart was hammering, and you were holding your daughter close to your chest. Blinking blearily, you stared at the bedroom door. Why had you woken so afraid?

A muffled scream echoed throughout the building, and that gave you enough answer. Your daughter was half-awake, and you held her tight to your chest. The door was flung open, and your ladies rushed in, panicked looks on their faces.

“What is—”

“One of the men has gone mad,” One of them whispered to you, tone frantic, “The others were conspiring, ma’am, they were— they planned to—” Her eyes flickered to your daughter, but her message to you was clear as day.

The man had grown tired of waiting it seemed, perhaps some had gone to fight and lost, and they decided to act on their own accord.

“Shishitorin—”

“They took up arms against many of the suitors, but we came to find you, you two must hide,” Her eyes were frantic as she tugged at the two of you.

Your heart was hammering, your palms sweaty as you held your daughter to your chest. She had no idea what was happening, but her grip on your dress was tight.

You left your daughter’s room, taking up in a small room, one you recalled your husband saying was to only be used when necessary. Unfortunately, that necessary was here. You were all huddled close, your daughter, naturally, the most protected. You’d kill any man who entered that room before they touched her, and you would ensure if you died trying you wouldn’t be the only one.

Your dedication ladies were around you, ready to sacrifice themselves for you. But you prayed to whoever may be listening that shouldn’t happen. Hours crept by, slow as the sap that dripped in the garden during the springtime. There were screams and yells, the sound of gurgling and people choking on, what you assumed, was their own blood.

The silence that followed it all was deafening. None of you moved, no one shifted. You heard it then, a muffled call of your name. You felt the women around you tense, but you sat straight, “That’s Choji.”

Still weary, you ensured your daughter was safe in their arms before you stepped outside, clutching tight to a dagger you had grabbed on your way out the door.

“Choji?”

The shorter man looked frenzy, hair disheveled, blood on his clothes. But he was smiling— his eyes looked watery.

“Choji— are you—”

“He’s back,” He rushed to you, hands gripping your forearms, “Umemiya’s back.”

It was a blur, really, after Choji uttered those words. The night had shifted, darkness surrounding the walls of your home. Your daughter was whisked away, exhausted but placated by whatever you had said to her in a daze. You found yourself alone in your bedroom, as you had found yourself so many times before. It felt different now, and your wrapped your arms around you, an attempt of soothing yourself.

The door opened, and you couldn’t stop the wild beating of your heart. You turned only partly, looking at the man who entered. He wore your husband’s face, at least what you had assumed your husband would look like after eight years. This time of seasons, it was almost nine years.

He was taller than you recall, or perhaps it was how he held himself. His hair was longer, the ends curling almost identically to your daughter’s. His eyes, the same shade of blue as the ocean, were far sadder than you could ever remember.

“Is it really you?” Your voice was a whisper, but it echoed loud in your chambers, “I’ve often dreamt of you coming home to us, and I must admit each waking moment is more painful than the last.”

He stepped forward, and you couldn’t stop the step back, mirroring his closeness. The pain in his eyes intensified, and your resolve cracked some.

“Every time you reach to touch me I wake up, if this is another dream I’d wish to stay in it as long as I’m able.” He nodded slowly at your explanation, eyes staring at you, as if he was as afraid to look away as you were, “You look far different than you have when you’ve visited me in my dreams. You’d always great me with a smile.” Your voice cracked as you spoke.

He looked pained at this, and his shoulders tensed, looking as if he were hunching in on himself, “I’m not the same man I was when I left you.” His voice was quiet, deeper, but the same voice you wished to hear for years.

“I’m… different now, I’m afraid. War was not kind, and the journey home, my journey to you was unforgiving.” He swallowed hard, eyes pleading as he looked at you, “I’m not the man you took as your husband, and I’m afraid you won’t be able to love me as you did before.”

“Your journey took six years longer than you promised,” You all but whispered towards him, hands trembling as you fidgeted with your ring, “There was talk that you had died.”

He shook his head, “I had to come back to you, to— to our child. Nothing would have stopped me, not even death herself. She tried though,” His voice was thick, “I watched many men die, I took… so many lives. Their blood stains my hands, no matter how much I bathe.”

He looked at his palms, as if searching for the stainage.

“When I returned there were so many men here. They spoke vilely of you,” The words left his lips like poison being spat, “They spoke of your body as if it were a prize they sought after, one they would’ve taken if it were not given. Their fight with Shishitorin was a genius move on your end, my love.”

He smiled at you at that, and the tears that had been building spilled over. That smile had haunted your dreams and nightmares alike for years. And now it was here, mere feet in front of you.

“But they grew angrier. I wished to plot my arrival to be less dramatic, but the threats they spoke of. I’m only a man,” He closed his eyes, holding his breath for a moment before looking back at you, “They cannot, and will not, ever harm you. Look at you. Or speak of you again. Years ago, the blood staining our home would have had me feeling guilty, but now I see it as a means to an end. I fear my hearts turned cold, it’s closed in my time away. I fear your husband doesn’t exist anymore.”

“Doesn’t exist?” He nodded at your whispered question, a shameful look on his face.

You turned away from him, the tears still steadily falling down your cheeks. The garden, your garden, stood as pristine as it had earlier, the cherry blossom tree standing in the middle, her branches swaying peacefully in the night wind.

“If you wish to prove you’re still my husband, or worthy of being so,” Your voice was thick as you spoke, your nose stuffed, head throbbing, “Then I shall give you a task as I have the others.”

“Anything for you.” The sincerity in his voice was borderline painful.

“I wish for you to uproot the garden outside,” You didn’t turn as you spoke, “My husband planted all types of flowers years ago, said there was meaning behind them. I have never met another man who understands the language flowers hide as he, and I have done my own research.”

Truth of the matter was you had found the notes your husband scribbled years ago, lists of flowers and their meanings, which ones he felt for you and which one he swore he’d never even look at.

“Indifference. Refusal. Disappointment. Resignation. Stupidity.” You forced a mirthful chuckle, “All things I fear my husband felt for me. Towards me.”

There was silence, not even the sound of breath other than yours. For a moment, you were terrified he had left the room, and you turned.

He was crying, silent tears falling down his face as he stared at you. Anger was written in his eyes, but he didn’t move, wasn’t even looking at you anymore. His gaze had matched yours, looking at to the garden and all her loving plants.

“For you to even suggest that—” He took a breath, his cheeks red.

“Everlasting love, the flame of my heart, an oath to never forget you, promised twice, patience, a wish for you to think of me, and only of me.” His voice grew louder as he spoke, “I had wished to plant hibiscus bushes under our window, but the scent made you sick while you were pregnant, and you told me on our wedding night that roses were too simple to express our relationship.”

He turned to you, the bright fury behind his eyes unleashing a storm of emotion. “I’d have burnt any flower, any tree, any bush that even suggested I thought such awful things about you.”

You stepped towards him, your chest bubbling with anger, with sorrow, love, pain— everything you had kept in for eight years.

“And the only man who knew all this was the man I married,” You were in front of him now, his faces inches from yours, “So I suppose that means you’re still him.”

The anger wavered for a moment, before you watched his face crumble. The silent tears turned into ragged breaths, and you stood tall, the pain in your chest aching to join him.

“I fell in love with you, and I have never stopped loving you. Time, distance— nothing will ever stop those feelings. Do not come into our bedroom and state I won’t love you as much as I did all those years ago, as much as I do now.”

“I have waited eight long years, alone and worried, but as in love with you as I was when we were first married. I was waiting for my husband, for you,” You poked at his chest, the first contact you had with him for eight years, “You absolute idiot.”

You weren’t sure who broke first, but the sobs causing your breath to hiccup broke free. His arms were around you, and you were weeping into his shoulder, as he was in yours. He was as warm as you recalled all those years ago, as solid as ever. He held you, as if he was terrified you’d move too far from his reach if he gave you the space to do so. You held him back equally as tight, if not more.

“My dear, how I have missed you.” He whispered against your hair, and the warmth of his lips against your forehead brought forth a fresh wave of tears.

“I knew you’d return,” You pulled back, cupping his cheeks, staring at the man you had loved for nearly a decade and a half.

He pulled you forward, crushing you into a kiss. His lips were rough, you could almost feel every crack in his skin against your own. But you melted into his embrace like it was your first kiss all over again. It was messy, both your cheeks still wet from your tears. You held each other, lips molded into one until you both had to pull back to breath, panting in each others space.

“We have a daughter?”

You laughed, broken and whole all at once, “Yes. She acts so much like you, I nearly named her Hajimia.”

He made a face, “Please tell me she isn’t named that.”

You shook your head, “No, Fumiko.”

Hajime echoed your laughter, just as wet and unbridled as yours, “Hibiscus.”

“I told her stories of you every night,” You traced a scar on his forehead, cutting straight through his eyebrow, “She already adores you so much.”

He grabbed your hand in his, the palms rougher and more calloused, but as warm and protecting as ever. He brought your knuckles to his lips, a kiss pressed against them, “And I already adore her, I did the moment she was conceived.”

“You fought nature and men’s deadliest armies to return to her, to me,” You pressed forward, your face in his chest, the sound of his heartbeat was music to your ears, “I love you. I never stopped.”

He took a shuddering breath, “I love you.”

a/n: so I whipped this out in one sitting, sat here and wrote for like 2 hours straight. if you can’t tell I’m a little Epic obsessed. I don’t even know if this is good or not!

[reikafanfic]

Random Nsfw Head Canons For Riize Hyung line (with Fem!Reader)

( Includes: Shotaro, Eunseok, Sungchan, Wonbin )

Just my personal thoughts, don't take it too seriously this is just for fun <3

I also don't proofread so get ready for a lot of typos and an absolute bastardization of the English language

Hyung line, Maknae line (coming soon)

♡ ♡ Shotaro ♡ ♡

I know because he's naturally cute and he has a round wholesome face you might be fooled into thinking he's innocent and vanilla WRONG this man is a tried and true SLUT.

I mean, its been said before but it's bears repeating, have you SEEN his old dance videos?

You can't tell me he wasn't the community dick for a while, this mf is ran through.

All in all he has quite a bit of experience and I could see him both loving to be with someone who's just as experienced or teaching someone not as experienced his favourite kinks.

I don't see him as particularly picky in that aspect, he's still a sweetheart, just happy to be there.

Definitely loves head, like it's one of his favourite bedroom activities, both receiving and giving.

If there's something like the opposite of a breeding kink he has it, giving pleasure with no other goal.

There is no baby making, he's on his knees for you because he wants YOU to feel good, and vice versa.

Just straight up sinning for the sake of it, he maybe has some hints of a corruption kink.

Always encouraging you to be demanding and bold with him, take what you want from him he's yours after all.

Shame is not a thing with this guy, always open to try something new.

He's always softly encouraging you, giving you a teasing smile as he asks you to tell him what you wanna try.

"c'mon sweetheart, use your words"

Definitely loves hitting it from the back, hands on your hips as he slams them down on his dick.

He's more of a moaner than a groaner, mainly because he knows how much his pretty voice turns you on.

He definitely leans more dominant but will gladly sub, like I said before he's just happy to be there.

The only times he's every truly being submissive and not putting on a show for your enjoyment is when you tie him up and edge him till he's a mess.

Looking up at you with his big brown eyes, pleading with you.

"I've been so good....fuck please just let me cum I'll do anything"

He's also got aftercare down to a science, taylors what he does based on what you need in the moment.

Whether it's cuddling with you until you both fall asleep or helping you take a shower he's down for whatever.

Super chatty after sex too, pillow talk is his favourite part.

♡ ♡ Eunseok ♡ ♡

I know everyone sees him as a daddy Dom or a "call me sir" type but I honestly think he's more sexually conservative than people think.

Which is to say he likes to "court" you before he fucks you, wants to get to know you before he's bending you over.

He definitely likes to be dominant but that side of him doesn't come out until later, in the beginning he's just trying to figure himself out.

He isn't a virgin but doesn't have nearly as much experience as shotaro which is why he takes it slow.

What's that saying? Slow and steady wins the race?

That's definitely true for him because once he figures out what makes you tick it's OVER for you.

He figures out what your sweet spots are, how you like him to touch you, how you like to be talked to and when he knows all of that he'll be using it against you every chance he gets.

You flirt with the waiter to make him jealous? He's grazing your thigh and whispering into your ear just how you like until you're squirming.

Teases you throughout dinner until you're dripping only to act like nothing happened when you get back to the car .

"Did I forget something? What is it? Use your big girl words, Sir can't read your mind"

Also knows exactly how to edge you to make It feel the most frustrating, smirking as you whine and beg for him to let you cum.

Also loves spanking you, his favourite thing is having you bent over his lap, fingers in your cunt, pulling them out just as you're about to finish and slapping your ass.

Mildly sadistic, but only mildly, the extreme stuff doesn't appeal to him. It's fun to spank you but I think he'd get uncomfortable using a crop, the chances of seriously hurting you are just too high.

Don't let him fool you though, he's still a softy at heart, he can only tease you so much before he's giving in.

Sex always starts out rough but by the end of it he's cooing at you, telling you he loves you as he lets you cum over and over.

"Don't look at me like that...you know it makes me weak"

Gets all mushy towards the end of sex, goes from talking about how much of a slut you are to how much he loves you, is super embarrassed about it after.

Again he isn't as experienced as Shotaro so his aftercare could use some work, he gets a good handle on things after a while though.

Makes sure to clean you up and massage you if you're sore.

Unlike Shotaro he's quiet after sex, just wanted to hold you and run his fingers through your hair, preferably having your head on his chest.

King of forehead kisses.

♡ ♡ Sungchan ♡ ♡

He's similar to Eunseok in the sense that he definitely prefers to be more dominant and likes it rough but he doesn't take himself nearly as seriously.

Even when he's playing a more dominant role he still flashes you his big smile from time to time, he's still your sweet boyfriend after all.

He didn't wait to have sex with you like Eunseok did, he's down to do it whenever you want, he would've fucked you on the first date if you'd asked.

SIZE KINK, he loves how much taller he is than you, constantly wants to compare hand sizes or rest his head on yours.

Loves making you ride him, your smaller frame struggling to take his cock, big eyes looking at him pleadingly.

"Fuck just like that baby, you look so good like this"

Don't forget, just because you're on top doesn't mean he's giving up control, he's still in charge.

He, like Eunseok, is also mostly a Dom but he isn't necessarily as rigged, if you wanna Dom him he'll let you have your fun for a little bit.

He'll eventually get frustrated though, flipping you over to fuck you into next week.

Speaking of size kink, he loves man handling you, you don't need to lift a finger when you're with him because he can just move you himself.

You literally get tossed around like a ragdoll during sex.

Also LOVES being sent Nudes, pretty lingerie is the biggest turn on for him, sending him suggestive pics in a new set you bought while he's working is the fastest way to get your brains fucked out.

Has probably the highest sex drive in riize, he's down to clown anything time anywhere.

Probably the most into semi-public sex, isn't above sneaking off to fuck you in a closet in-between schedules, hand over your mouth to muffle the sounds.

"shh, be a good girl and stay quiet, no-one gets to hear your sweet moans but me."

Probably the most lazy during aftercare, just wants to cuddle up and go to sleep.

Will clean you up if you complain but only does the bare minimum in that regard, he just can't wait to cuddle up with you.

Another chatterbox after sex, will talk your ear off about literally anything and everything.

♡ ♡ Wonbin ♡ ♡

The switchest switch of them all, he doesn't really lean strongly towards subbing or domming he's down either way.

When he's subbing he's definitely a bit of a pillow princess, I mean have you SEEN him?? That's my wife frl.

He loves being tied up and played with. Just use him to your hearts content, he's just your toy, edge him, making him cum over and over, ride him, tease him, he just wants to be good for you.

Your wish is his command, he doesn't get bratty often because he craves you praising him more than anything, all of you have to say is "Be a good boy and _____" and he's doing it.

HOWEVER he definitely has a jealous streak, he only gets disobedient when you're paying attention to someone else more than him, if you hug your guy friend a little too close Infront of him it'll set him off.

"No no just pretend like I don't exist, it's fine, I know how much you love attention"

He does all this just so he can feel you fuck the attitude out of him, probably the most likely to be into pegging.

Wants YOU to manhandle HIM.

His face buried in the pillow and you fuck into him, looking back at you with teary eyes as he whines and moans, a little bit of drool coming out.

"Fuck- I'm sorry- please- please please"

He isn't even sure what he's begging for, he just needs you so bad.

And when he's domming you? He's honestly more of a soft dom, this man is putty in your hands.

He tries to be mean, he really does, and he succeeds for like five minutes, having you tied down and teasing you, almost pushing his cock in but always pulling back before even his tip is inside, making you beg for his cock.

Beg is singular though because he melts at the first "please" you let out, he really can't deny you anything.

Seriously, you look at him pleadingly ONCE and he sighs, giving you whatever you want, you've got him wrapped around your finger.

His aftercare is different depending on of he was domming or not, if he was subbing he's whiny as hell.

Wants to be cleaned up and showered in praise, wrapped up in your arms as you run your fingers through his hair

Will literally bury his face in your boobs and fall asleep, he's not much of a talker.

If he's domming he's honestly a little lazy, will cuddle up with you but won't really do any cleaning unless you insist.

Holds you close to his chest and runs his fingers though your hair until you fall asleep, sneaking in a few pecks.

He does more of his aftercare the morning after, bringing you breakfast in bed or if he isn't feeling particularly up to it he'll order you food.

Ngl I'm very nervous to post this because criticism scares me but I've been wanting to make a blog for a while so here goes, please be nice😞🙏🏼

[hypnobeauty]

a chance encounter - a cho hyun-ju x reader fic (part 11)

summary: a story about how you and hyun-ju met and the following years of your relationship. masterlist cw: no use of y/n, reader is afab, life being fucking hard can't my girls get a fucking break, pre squid game, domesticity, slice of life, salesman, wtf was she doing in that field, hyunju is a capricorn. a/n: hello lovelies! got crazy writer’s block while writing this, so do NOT get your hopes up. then got into a crazy spiral while writing thinking ‘omg i’m making so much stuff up, sounds weird’ but then i remembered… it’s literally fanfiction lol anyway, enjoy xx as usual comments are always welcome taglist: @strayteez3staner @dekiruxxx @jeongteen @sunnysurvives @3leni @etta-huracan @honeyhyunju @basoressia @antisocial-aina @googie-jeon @christinamadsen @deernat @vvlwvvy @psychobitchsthings @dikeu-yoiz

part 11. when cards fall, we build

for two years, hyun-ju had been your home. it wasn’t just about love—it was in the way you had shaped each other’s lives, molded the contours of your days to fit together so seamlessly that the thought of being apart felt unnatural. she had once told you, in that quiet, thoughtful way of hers, “i never thought i’d have this. not like this, not with someone like you.” she hadn’t needed to elaborate; you had known exactly what she meant.

you had your own apartments, technically, but they had long since blurred into shared spaces. her sweatshirts lived in your closet, your earrings mysteriously ended up on her dresser, and neither of you knew who had originally bought the vanilla-scented hand cream that now sat in both bathrooms. you borrowed each other’s makeup without asking, left notes in the margins of each other’s books, and it was an unspoken rule that her fridge would always have your favorite yogurt, just like your cabinet would always have her preferred brand of coffee.

your routines had entwined just as naturally. she had introduced you to weight training, and though you still claimed to hate it, you went with her to the gym anyway—mostly for the way she would smirk at you in the mirror and whisper, “one more set, you’ll thank me later.” you booked your nail appointments together, sat side by side at the hair salon flipping through magazines. saturday mornings were for errands, grocery shopping side by side, your carts always ending up with at least two things you didn’t need because “aein, look, it’s cute.” even on the busiest of days, you always found time for each other, whether it was a quiet meal after work or simply falling asleep with your head on her chest, her fingers idly stroking your back.

hyun-ju had never expected this. she had never imagined waking up to someone who kissed her shoulder before getting out of bed, never thought she would come home to someone waiting for her, smiling at her like she was their favorite part of the day. but it had happened, and she had never felt more grateful. she was head over heels, in the way she watched you when you weren’t looking, in the way she always pulled you close like she was afraid you might slip away.

she had never imagined this for herself, not really. for so long, she had been cautious, guarded, always aware of how she was perceived. but with you, she had let herself be. and then, there was her. the version of herself she had kept locked away for so long, the parts of her that had once felt too indulgent, too exposed. she had always been careful, deliberate, measured in her presence. but with you? with you, she had begun to relax into herself again.

she started dressing the way she truly wanted—not just comfortable, but expressive. she let herself enjoy the way she looked, the way she felt in her own skin. you never commented on the shift outright, never made a big deal out of it—but the way your eyes lit up every time, the way your fingers would trace the collar of her shirt and murmur, “you look so good, hyun-ju,” was enough to make her feel like she was glowing.

and then, there was the dancing.

hyun-ju didn’t dance. at least, that was what she had always claimed. too self-conscious, too aware of her body, of the way people watched, judged. but one night, after too much alcohol, after you had pulled her by the hands and twirled her around the living room, she had caved. and after that? it had become a thing. behind closed doors, with only you, she let herself move freely—laughing as you made her spin, rolling her eyes as you made her sway to whatever song was playing, letting herself press close when the music slowed. she still grumbled about it, still claimed it was your thing, not hers, but you both knew the truth.

she was happy. happier than she ever remembered being.

with you, she didn’t have to think so hard. she didn’t have to weigh every action, didn’t have to anticipate every reaction. she could just be, and for someone like her, someone who had spent so much of her life trying to navigate the world carefully, that was everything.

she never told you all of this outright, never put it into words the way you might, but she showed you in the way she touched you, the way she always pulled you close in sleep, the way she whispered your name like it was something sacred. “i never thought i’d have this,” she had admitted once, voice barely above a whisper in the dark. “not like this.”

and now, she couldn’t imagine being without it. you belonged to each other, in every possible way.

everything happened so fast. in the last six months, your life had turned completely upside down. it began with a desperate call from your mother one saturday morning in march. you had been sitting at hyun-ju’s small kitchen table, the scent of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the warmth of sunlight streaming through the window. breakfast was simple but comforting—scrambled eggs, toast, and jam you’d bought from a street vendor the week before.

your phone buzzed, and when you saw your mom’s name on the screen, a chill ran through you. her voice was frantic, the words tumbling out in a rush: your father had collapsed at the factory and was being rushed to the er.

your fork clattered onto your plate as you scrambled to stand. your hands shook as you tried to grab your bag, your mind already spinning with worst-case scenarios. hyun-ju was by your side in an instant, her hands on your arms, steadying you. “aein, breathe,” she said softly, her voice grounding. “i’ll drive you.”

the drive to the hospital passed in a blur. hyun-ju kept one hand on the wheel and the other on your knee, her touch grounding as your mind raced through worst-case scenarios.

at the hospital, she held you tight in the waiting area, her arms wrapped securely around you as you sobbed into her shirt. she didn’t flinch when your tears soaked through the fabric. her hand moved in slow circles on your back, her voice a quiet murmur in your ear. “he’ll be okay,” she whispered, though you could feel her own fear in the way her grip tightened around you.

your father survived. it was a heart attack, but the doctors said he’d need medication for the rest of his life. you drained your savings to pay for his hospital stay, the medicine, and the endless tests they had to run.

but he didn’t get better. the heart attack left him with heart failure, and soon, he needed a pacemaker. that meant more tests, surgery, and the device itself—each expense piling higher than the last. this time, there were no savings left to drain. you had to go to the bank, taking out a loan you prayed you could repay in small installments.

but what you never expected was to lose your job. the office felt different when you walked in that morning—quieter, heavier, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath. you’d been back for only two days after taking time off to care for your father, but you could already feel the strain in the air. deadlines loomed, and your desk was a chaotic mess of files and unfinished designs. you’d spent the last two nights working late to catch up, but it wasn’t enough.

when the email from hr landed in your inbox, asking you to come to the head manager’s office, your stomach dropped. the walk to the office felt interminable. every step echoed in your ears, and when you opened the door, the sight of three people waiting for you confirmed your worst fears.

the head manager sat at the center of the table, his hands folded neatly in front of him. your direct boss sat to his right, her gaze fixed firmly on the surface of the table. the hr representative sat to the left, her face carefully neutral.

“please, have a seat,” the head manager said, gesturing to the chair across from them. you sat down, your hands gripping the edge of the chair to steady yourself.

the head manager began with a practiced speech, his tone polished but impersonal. he praised your skills, your creativity, your contributions to the agency. “you’ve been an invaluable member of the team,” he said, as if that softened the blow of what was coming next.

“but,” he continued, his tone shifting, “your recent absence has caused significant disruptions. your projects had to be reassigned, which placed an undue burden on your colleagues.”

you opened your mouth to argue, but he held up a hand to stop you.

“we understand that your reasons for taking time off were personal and important,” he said. “but the reality is that the agency cannot afford this level of unpredictability.”

“i’ll make it up,” you said quickly, your voice trembling. “i’ll take on extra projects, whatever it takes. just give me a chance.”

the head manager sighed, glancing at the hr representative. “it’s not just about the workload. there have also been concerns raised about… personal choices.”

the words hung in the air, heavy and pointed. your stomach churned, and your eyes darted to your direct boss. she still wouldn’t look at you.

you knew exactly what he meant. your relationship with hyun-ju wasn’t a secret, but it wasn’t something you flaunted either. a photo of the two of you sat on your desk, and you’d mentioned her in passing to colleagues. apparently, that was enough.

“i see,” you said quietly, your voice barely audible.

the rest of the meeting passed in a blur. by the time you walked out, clutching the severance paperwork in your trembling hands, tears were already spilling down your cheeks.

back at your desk, you began packing your things. your wacom tablet, your paper blocks, pens and markers. a small succulent your colleagues had given you on your first day and you were very proud of keeping alive for years. the framed photo of you and hyun-ju, her arms wrapped around you, both of you smiling like nothing in the world could touch you.

your friends gathered around you, their hugs and words of encouragement breaking what little composure you had left. ha-neul sobbed openly, clutching your arm. “i’m quitting,” she declared, her voice thick with emotion. “if they’re going to treat you like this, i’m done.”

“don’t be absurd,” you said, forcing a weak smile as you wiped her tears. “you have a facelift to pay for, remember?”

she let out a watery laugh, but the pain in her eyes mirrored your own.

meanwhile, hyun-ju found work as a shooting range instructor in gwangmyeong. she excelled at it, her ease with firearms both impressive and a little unnerving. she’d taken you to the range once, laughing when the gun’s recoil sent you stumbling. she made it look effortless, her arm steady as she hit the target with precision every time.

weeks later, the weight of your dismissal still lingered. freelance jobs trickled in, thanks to the kindness of your friends and ex-boss, but the debt loomed like a shadow over everything. your father’s medical expenses were relentless, and the loan payments barely made a dent.

hyun-ju wasn’t faring much better. her job paid decently, but her own debt was staggering. ₩330 million—years of hormone treatments, surgeries, and the recovery periods that kept her out of work. she tried to hide her stress from you, but you saw it in the way her shoulders slumped after long days and the way she stared at her bank statements for far too long.

one evening, as you worked at your desk, you heard her sigh heavily from the bed behind you. “i’m thinking about moving to gwangmyeong,” she said.

you turned to see her sprawled across your mattress, still in her uniform, her arm draped over her eyes.

“i’m sorry?”

she lifted her arm, exhaustion clear in her face. “i can’t keep doing this, aein. the commute is killing me. it’s too much.” she had recently sold her car to help paying her debt and was taking the bus back and forth everyday.

her voice was steady, but you could hear the strain beneath it. you nodded, though the thought of her moving farther away made your chest tighten. “i get it. makes sense.”

you turned back to your computer, pretending to focus on the screen.

“i’ve already started looking,” she said.

that caught your attention. you frowned, glancing back at her again. “you have?”

she sat up, her expression unreadable. “i found a small house. it’s two stories—tiny, but enough. one bedroom, one bathroom. there’s even a little front yard.”

you hummed in response, trying to sound indifferent, though a knot of sadness twisted in your stomach. had she been planning this without you? not that she couldn’t, but it’d be nice to know.

hyun-ju stood and walked over to you, her footsteps soft on the floor. she stopped behind you, her hands settling on your shoulders. “and there’s a space by the window for a desk. natural light, just like you love.”

her words were so careful, so deliberate, that you finally turned to look at her.

“let’s move in together,” she said suddenly, her voice steady but her eyes searching for yours.

“what?” you asked, startled.

“let’s move in together,” she repeated, her hands tightening on your shoulders. “you work from home, and i work there. it makes sense. we’ve been spending almost all our time together anyway.”

you opened your mouth to respond, but she kept going, her words tumbling out in a nervous rush. “i’ve done the math. we’d save so much money. and i know it’s farther from your parents, but you can still visit them every week. i’ll make sure of it. there’s enough space for all your things. and it’s not perfect, it’s not thailand, but we’ll make it work. together.”

“hyun-ju,” you said softly, placing your hands over hers.

her ramble came to an abrupt stop, her eyes wide and uncertain.

“yes,” you said, your voice steady.

“yes?” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.

“yes!” you said again, laughing as she pulled you to your feet and wrapped her arms around you. she lifted you effortlessly, spinning you around as you squealed in surprise.

for a moment, the weight of debt and worry melted away, replaced by the simple joy of knowing you’d face it together.

everything had unraveled so quickly, and now, three months later, you could barely recognize the life you used to have.

the week after you and hyun-ju decided to move in together, you gave up the lease on your apartment and put your car up to sale as well—it had been sitting with little to no use for a while since you lost your job. packing up your things felt bittersweet—each item carefully folded or boxed carried memories of independence, of a life you’d built on your own. ha-neul, of course, made the biggest fuss when you told her. “what do you mean you’re leaving seoul?” she wailed, clutching her chest dramatically. “you can’t just abandon me in this overpriced hellhole!”

but she came around, as she always did, even helping you sort through your furniture. deciding what to keep and what to sell was a delicate negotiation between you and hyun-ju, with plenty of compromises along the way. your parents, surprisingly, took the news well. they had been slowly warming up to the idea of having a lesbian daughter, and now your mother even asked about hyun-ju and your possible future babies whenever you visited. “how’s our hyun-ju doing?” she’d say, sending her greetings over the phone.

despite the challenges, the two of you settled into your new home with a sense of cautious optimism. the house was small, and finding space for both your belongings required a lot of planning—and a few arguments—but it worked. there were moments of quiet joy that made all the struggles worthwhile: sharing coffee on the front steps in the morning, cooking dinner together in the tiny kitchen, and falling asleep tangled in each other’s arms at the end of a long day.

but those moments couldn’t erase the reality of your financial situation.

the bills arrived like clockwork, along with the dunning letters that seemed to mock you every month. hyun-ju’s last surgery, breast implants six months ago, had been a long-awaited milestone for her. you’d told her she was perfect the way she was, but she wanted this for herself, and you supported her wholeheartedly. still, it left her with little room to help with your own growing debt.

at night, when the two of you wound down from your days, hyun-ju sometimes voiced her frustrations in whispers. “i hate this,” she’d say, her arms wrapped tightly around you. “i hate that we’re stuck like this.”

when you tried to reassure her, she’d shake her head, guilt clouding her eyes. “you lost your job because of me. if it weren’t for—”

“stop,” you’d interrupt, pulling her closer. “don’t say that. i’d choose you over any job, any day.”

but the truth was, it was hard. some weeks, you scraped by—barely covering rent, utilities, internet, transportation, food, your father’s insurance, hyun-ju’s insurance, her hormones and supplements, and the surprise expenses that always seemed to crop up. by july 2024, your combined debt had reached a staggering ₩455 million.

*

on september 10th, you found yourself at a bus stop in seoul, waiting for the bus to take you home after visiting your family. the air at the bus stop was cool but not biting, a gentle reminder that autumn was on its way. you adjusted your cardigan, pulling it tighter around you as you sat on the cold metal bench. beside you, the large reusable bag filled with pots of homemade food from your mom was a comforting presence. she’d insisted on packing enough to last a week—soups, stews, and side dishes carefully labeled and stacked.

the street was quiet, eerily so. the faint hum of distant traffic was the only sound, and the empty road stretched out before you like an endless void. you glanced at your phone, checking the bus schedule. ten more minutes.

that was when you noticed him.

he seemed to materialize out of nowhere, stepping into the glow of the streetlight with an air of purpose. his suit was immaculate, a tailored gray that clung perfectly to his frame. his black shoes gleamed like polished obsidian, and his hair was parted and slicked back without a single strand out of place. in his hand, he carried a sleek black case.

he stopped a few feet away, his posture unnervingly still, and smiled at you. it wasn’t a warm smile—it was toothless and hollow, like a mask of politeness stretched over something much darker.

“good evening,” he said, his voice smooth and practiced, like a salesman greeting a potential client.

you blinked, caught off guard. “good evening,” you replied cautiously, your voice tinged with unease. “look, i respect your faith, but i’m not interested.”

he chuckled softly, the sound low and almost amused. “oh, i’m not here to preach.”

you frowned, your fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. “then what do you want?”

he took a step closer, his hands resting lightly on the handle of his case. “i want to help you.”

you scoffed, glancing back at the road. still no sign of the bus. “help me?”

he said your name and your heart stopped.

“w-what?” you stammered, your head snapping toward him. “how do you know my name?”

the man’s smile widened—calm, practiced, a predator’s grin masquerading as polite amusement. it didn’t reach his eyes.

“oh, i know a lot about you.”

the air in your lungs turned to stone. your fingers twitched at your sides.

“what…?” the word barely stumbled out.

he adjusted his cufflinks, as if this was just another business transaction, as if he wasn’t about to peel back the layers of your life with surgical precision. “your name. your age. twenty-eight, right? born and raised in mangu-dong.” he tilted his head, watching you closely, savoring the way your muscles tensed. “smart girl. seoul national university, college of fine arts. design major. graduated with debt so steep it followed you like a shadow for years. you finally managed to pay it off—not that it helped much in the grand scheme of things, did it?”

your stomach twisted, the words sinking into you, anchoring you to the chair.

“i know about your parents. your mother is a seamstress. still working herself to the bone for so little, still ignoring the pain in her hands because she can’t afford to stop. and your father, the factory worker with a heart that turned against him before he could ever retire. the pacemaker alone cost ₩38 million.that hospital? dongguk university hospital? they love seeing his name on their patient list, don’t they?”

a slow, barely-there chuckle left him, as if this was amusing. as if your father’s failing heart was just another line on a page.

“and then,” he continued, ever so smoothly, “there’s the agency job. hanul creative. your fresh start. your dream, wasn’t it?” his eyes flickered with something like delight when you flinched. “you were good—no, you were great. but that didn’t matter in the end, did it?because talent doesn’t mean anything when the people above you decide you’re wrong for their ‘company image.’”

your mouth felt dry. you swallowed, hard.

“and then there’s her.”

the world tilted.

“cho hyun-ju.” The way he said her name—slow, deliberate—sent a spike of ice through your chest. “Your dear, your girl.” his lips curled, relishing the way your breath hitched. “two years together, six months in that tiny shoebox you call 'home' in gwangmyeong. the life you were trying so hard to build, despite everything crumbling around you.”

he let the silence stretch, his smile sharpening as he watched the war play out behind your eyes.

“she’s drowning too, isn’t she?” he mused, almost pitying. almost. “all that military service, all those years, and what does she have to show for it? a pension that barely scratches the surface of her debts? the loans she took out when she left? a future, maybe?” he exhaled, as if it was exhausting just talking about it. “i know she tried. tried to take the burden off your shoulders. but in the end… it was never enough.”

your throat burned. you felt exposed, gutted, like he had reached into your chest and dragged your ribs apart.

“h-how…” the question barely formed, your voice cracking under its own weight. “how do you know all this?”

the salesman tilted his head, the faintest ghost of amusement dancing in his gaze. ��ah, now that’s the wrong question.” he leaned forward, voice lowering to something smooth, something dangerous. “it doesn’t matter how i know.” his fingers tapped against the briefcase beside him, rhythmic, calculated. “what matters… is that i have a proposal for you.”

he crouched slightly, setting the black case on the ground. your mind raced. was there a weapon inside? was he going to rob you? kill you?

you tensed, ready to run, but when he opened the case, there were no weapons—just two square tiles of ddakji and stacks of 50,000 bills.

“i’m sure you’ve played before,” he said, holding them up with a faint smile. “let’s play a few rounds. each time you win, i’ll pay you ₩100,000.”

you stared at him, your brow furrowing. “i don’t have any money to play with.”

“you can pay with your body,” he said matter-of-factly.

your stomach churned, and you recoiled. he must have seen the disgust on your face because he chuckled again. “not like that. if you lose, i slap your face. simple as that.”

the thought of ₩100,000—real, tangible money—made you pause. you could buy groceries with that. pay a bill. maybe even have something left over.

reluctantly, you took the blue tile.

“good choice,” he said, tossing the red tile onto the ground.

you threw your tile, trying to remember the strategies you’d used as a child. it spun through the air but landed flat, barely moving the red tile.

the man smiled, crouching to pick up his tile. with a practiced flick of his wrist, he sent it flying, and it flipped your tile effortlessly.

before you could react, his hand connected with your cheek in a sharp, stinging slap. your head snapped to the side, your ear ringing as you stumbled back.

the shame burned almost as much as the slap itself.

“again,” you said, your voice trembling.

the next round, you won. he handed you two crisp bills, and you stared at it, half-expecting it to dissolve in your hand. but it was real.

you played several more rounds, losing three and winning ₩700,000. each slap left your cheek burning, but the weight of the money in your hand kept you going.

finally, the man packed up his tiles, his movements calm and deliberate. “you’re good at this,” he said, reaching into his pocket. “you have potential.”

he handed you a small brown card. one side bore three symbols—a circle, a square, and a triangle. the other side had a single phone number.

“call this number,” he said, his voice almost kind. “you won’t regret it.”

you stared at the card, your heart racing. “who are you?”

“i’m just a messenger,” he replied, his toothless smile returning. “oh, look. there’s your bus.”

you turned, and sure enough, the bus was pulling up to the curb. you grabbed your bag and rushed to board, your hands trembling.

as you sat by the window, clutching the card, you looked back at the bus stop. the man was gone. but the sting on your cheek, the weight of the money in your pocket, and the card in your hand told you he had been very real.

*

you decided not to tell hyun-ju about the encounter.

you knew her too well—she’d worry, and get upset. the last thing you needed was for her to add another burden to her already heavy load. when she noticed the redness on your cheek that night, her eyes narrowed with concern.

“what happened here?” she asked, brushing her fingers gently over the tender skin.

“oh, i tripped,” you said quickly, offering a sheepish smile. “i’m so clumsy.”

her brows knit together, and for a moment, you thought she might press further. but instead, she sighed, shaking her head as she grabbed an ice pack from the freezer. “you need to be more careful,” she said softly, holding it to your cheek.

you winced at the cold but didn’t protest. her eyes lingered on you, doubtful but unwilling to push.

three days later, the secret unraveled.

you were working at your desk when you heard hyun-ju’s voice call your name from upstairs.

“yes, aein?” you called back, standing and making your way to the bedroom.

when you reached the doorway, you saw her holding the black jeans you’d worn on your trip to seoul. her other hand held the small brown card, its sharp edges catching the light.

your breath hitched.

she turned to you, her expression unreadable as she held up the card. “what’s this?”

“i can explain—” you started, but the words faltered as she walked past you.

you turned, watching as she went to her side of the wardrobe. she opened a drawer, rummaging for a moment before pulling something out. when she turned back, your heart nearly stopped.

she was holding an identical card.

“when?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“last month,” she said, her tone steady but low. “when you spent the weekend at ha-neul's. i was leaving work. and you?”

“when i went to seoul this week,” you replied.

she nodded, her gaze dropping to the cards in her hands. “have you called?”

“no,” she admitted. “have you?”

you shook your head. “no. but i’ve thought about it.”

you sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. the weight of the past few days pressed down on you as you tried to gather your thoughts. hyun-ju joined you, sitting close enough that your knees touched. she handed you your card, her fingers brushing against yours.

“i’ve thought about it too,” she confessed, biting her lip. “i made ₩300,000. how much did you make?”

“₩700,000,” you said, letting out a soft chuckle, and getting her card from her hands. “i put it in the savings account.”

her eyes widened. “that’s a lot. good. that’s good. i used mine to pay off an installment at the bank.”

you turned the cards over in your hands, comparing them. the symbols on the front were identical, but the numbers on the back were different. “they’re different numbers,” you noted, holding them up for her to see.

hyun-ju leaned closer, her eyes narrowing as she studied them. “we made ₩1 million together just playing ddakji,” she murmured. her gaze shifted to yours, her expression a mix of curiosity and apprehension. “what do you think it’s about?”

“i don’t know,” you admitted, your voice low. “but he knew everything about me—my name, my debt, my father. he even knew about you.”

hyun-ju’s jaw tightened. “the man who approached you… was he wearing a suit?”

you nodded and she sighed. “he knew about you too. he said there’d be a lot more where that came from.”

the room fell silent for a moment, the weight of unspoken possibilities hanging between you.

“what if we call?” you suggested tentatively. “just to… see what they say.”

hyun-ju hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line. then she nodded. “okay. let’s call.”

you ran downstairs to grab your phone, your heart pounding as you climbed back up. sitting beside hyun-ju on the bed, you dialed the number on your card and hit speaker.

the phone rang once before a deep, robotic voice answered.

“say your name and birthday.”

you swallowed hard and replied.

“welcome. be at cheolmangsan park at 9 p.m. on october 30th.”

the line went dead.

hyun-ju stared at the phone, her brows furrowing. she grabbed hers and quickly dialed the number on her card.

the same voice answered.

“say your name and birthday.”

“cho hyun-ju, december 27th, 1991.” she said, her voice steady despite the tension in her shoulders.

“welcome. be at dogonaegogae trail at 9 p.m. on october 30th.”

the call ended abruptly.

“two different places,” you murmured, turning the cards over in your hands. “the same time and day.”

hyun-ju’s gaze was fixed on the cards, her expression unreadable. “what do you think is going to happen?”

you shook your head, a nervous laugh escaping your lips. “i guess we’ll find out.”

hyun-ju turned to you, her eyes softening as she leaned in. her lips brushed against yours in a kiss that was both tender and grounding, a silent reassurance that whatever lay ahead, you’d face it together.

now that hyun-ju found the card, her sharp intuition pieced together parts of the story you hadn’t shared.

when you told her you’d tripped, she didn’t press you that night. but as she held the ice pack to your cheek, her eyes lingered on you, scrutinizing the redness. “that’s an odd place for a fall,” she��d said softly, almost to herself. you’d brushed it off, smiling through the ache in your cheek and the guilt bubbling in your chest.

now, as the two of you sat on the bed with the cards in hand, you could feel the tension radiating from her.

“i knew you were lying,” hyun-ju said suddenly, her voice quiet but firm.

you froze, your fingers tightening around the card. “what?”

“about tripping,” she clarified, her gaze steady. “i didn’t push because i thought you’d tell me when you were ready. but now…” she held up her card. “now i know why you didn’t.”

you sighed, guilt settling heavily on your shoulders. “i didn’t want to worry you,” you admitted. “i thought if i told you, you’d try to find him or—”

“of course i’d try to find him,” she interrupted, her voice tinged with frustration. “you came home with a red cheek and a lie, and i knew something wasn’t right. i just didn’t think it’d be this.”

her tone softened as she looked down at the card in her hand. “when he slapped me, i didn’t expect it. it wasn’t just the pain—it was the humiliation. it felt… calculated. like he knew exactly how to make you feel powerless.”

you reached for her hand, intertwining your fingers. “i’m sorry i didn’t tell you. i just… i didn’t want to make things harder for you.”

hyun-ju squeezed your hand, her lips pressing into a thin line. “i get it. but we’re in this together, okay? no more hiding things like this.”

you nodded, the weight of her words settling in your chest.

the next few days were a blur of restless energy and unanswered questions.

you both tried searching for any clues about the cards, the symbols, or the phone numbers. late at night, you sat side by side on the couch, your laptops open as you scoured forums and social media.

“try searching the symbols,” hyun-ju suggested, her brow furrowed as she typed furiously.

you typed “circle square triangle card korea” into the search bar, hoping for something—anything—that would shed light on what you’d gotten yourselves into. the results were sparse, mostly unrelated posts about geometry or design.

“nothing,” you muttered, leaning back with a frustrated sigh.

hyun-ju let out a soft hum of agreement, her eyes scanning the screen in front of her. “it’s like it doesn’t exist,” she said, her voice tinged with unease.

occasionally, you’d stumble across a vague post or comment about “invitations” or “games,” but they were always cryptic and unhelpful. one post on an obscure forum mentioned a man in a suit handing out cards, but the thread was abandoned, with no replies or follow-ups.

“it’s like chasing shadows,” hyun-ju said one night, closing her laptop with a sigh.

despite the dead ends, the cards remained a constant presence, sitting on the coffee table like silent witnesses to your growing anxiety.

in the quiet moments, the weight of what might happen began to creep in.

“what if it’s dangerous?” hyun-ju asked one evening, her voice barely above a whisper.

you glanced at her, surprised by the vulnerability in her tone. hyun-ju was rarely one to admit fear, her years in the military giving her an air of steady confidence.

“i’ve thought about that,” you admitted. “but… what if it’s not? what if it’s the answer we’ve been looking for?”

hyun-ju didn’t reply immediately, her gaze fixed on the card in her hand. “it’s just… we’re already so far in debt. if this goes wrong, it could ruin everything.”

you reached for her, pulling her into your arms. “we don’t have to do this,” you said softly. “we can just throw the cards away and forget this ever happened.”

hyun-ju leaned into you, her head resting on your shoulder. “but what if it’s our way out?” she whispered.

the question hung in the air, unanswered.

the days leading up to october 30th felt both excruciatingly slow and suffocatingly fast. time moved like molasses when you tried to distract yourself with work or chores, yet every time you glanced at the calendar, the date seemed closer than it had any right to be.

*

on the morning of october 30th, the tension was palpable.

you spent the day trying to focus on work, but your mind kept drifting to the card sitting on the table. every time you glanced at the clock, your stomach churned.

hyun-ju was quieter than usual, her movements deliberate as she went about her day. when she caught you staring at her, she gave you a small, reassuring smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

by evening, the two of you were ready to leave. hyun-ju adjusted the strap of her bag, her expression unreadable. “are you sure about this?” she asked, her voice steady but low.

you nodded, clutching the card in your hand. “i am if you are.”

she reached out, her fingers brushing against yours. “whatever happens, we do this together. okay?”

“okay,” you replied, squeezing her hand.

the night air was cool, carrying with it the faint scent of autumn leaves and damp earth. you and hyun-ju stood at the edge of your small front yard, the cards tucked safely into your pockets. the house behind you, your shared sanctuary, seemed so much smaller now, dwarfed by the enormity of what you were about to do.

hyun-ju reached out, her fingers brushing against yours before clasping your hand firmly. her grip was warm, grounding you in the moment.

“you call me, no matter what,” you said, your voice steady despite the unease bubbling in your chest.

she nodded, her dark eyes fixed on yours. “sure. you call me too.”

the two of you lingered, neither willing to let go just yet. when she pulled you into a tight embrace, you melted into her arms, the familiar scent of her and the warmth of her body momentarily easing the tension.

hyun-ju tilted her head down, her lips meeting yours in a kiss that was both tender and desperate, as if she were trying to pour every unspoken word into that single moment. when you finally pulled apart, her hand lingered on your cheek.

“we’ll be okay,” she said softly.

you nodded, not trusting your voice.

then, with a shared glance that held both fear and determination, you turned and began walking in opposite directions. the weight of her absence hit you immediately, but you resisted the urge to look back.

*

you arrived at cheolmangsan park fifteen minutes early, the chill in the air doing little to calm your nerves. the park was eerily quiet, the usual hum of city life replaced by an oppressive stillness. you paced along the path, your hands shoved deep into your pockets as you tried to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach.

unable to bear the silence any longer, you pulled out your phone and called hyun-ju.

“hello?” she answered on the first ring, her voice steady but tinged with tension.

“are you there yet?” you asked, your breath visible in the cool air.

“i’ve been here for a few minutes,” she replied. “dogonaegogae trail is just as creepy as it sounds.”

you let out a soft laugh, though it felt hollow. “i hate this.”

“me too,” she admitted. “but we’re here now.”

the two of you talked quietly, your voices filling the void as you tried to reassure each other. the conversation was a lifeline, a thread connecting you across the city.

then, headlights cut through the darkness, and you turned to see a black van pulling up to the curb.

“there’s a van here,” you said, your heart pounding.

“same here,” hyun-ju replied. her voice grew quieter. “it’s stopping.”

“so is mine,” you said, your grip tightening on the phone.

the van’s door slid open, and a voice crackled through a speaker inside. “enter.”

you hesitated, your pulse racing.

“i think… i think this is it,” hyun-ju said.

you swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak. “be careful, okay?”

“you too,” she said softly. “i love you.”

“i love you too,” you replied, your voice breaking slightly.

the line went dead.

you slipped your phone into your pocket and stepped toward the van, your legs feeling like lead. the interior was dark, the faint glow of a light casting long shadows across the seats.

as you climbed in, your eyes landed on a man slumped in the seat ahead of you, his mouth open and his head resting against the window. he wasn’t moving.

“what… what’s happening?” you asked, your voice trembling. you reached for the door, but it wouldn’t budge. panic set in, your breaths coming faster as you fumbled for your phone.

before you could dial hyun-ju’s number, a faint hiss filled the air. you turned just in time to see a small pig-shaped sculpture on the dashboard release a spray of gas.

your vision blurred, your limbs growing heavy as you struggled to stay conscious. “no… wait…” you mumbled, your body slumping against the seat.