#hes 19 for gods sake

[austenwazright]

Honestly the first time I watched la casa de papel when it came out I was like 14 and I was so annoyed by Rio but like I'm re-watching it now and like the boy is 19???? He's younger then me???? I still can't think of me as an adult????? I'll never judge that boy again I'm sorry baby I didn't know better

[evermorestation]

it's such an interesting time to be a millennial australian cricket fan, at least for the men's team. you look back on the names from your childhood with either fondness for their body of work or shock when they're pulled from obscurity. the players you *actually* grew up with, through your late teens and twenties, have either had a roller coaster career trajectory or are the golden generation of cummins' present day test team, and you barely remember their starts but reflect on them with some irony.

looking back on all that, and looking at the incumbent generation who are like 19-21 in a heavy media spotlight, you can't help feel a sense of trepidation – is this gonna be more of the same? who do you get invested in and then regret doing so? who among these kids is gonna be lifting the world cup and who are we gonna be talking about 10 years from now in the "what could've been" sense – because we saw how they all started? because we've been there before, albeit not as professional athletes. imagine speculating on your 19-21 year old self's future and looking in the mirror now. chances are most of us would've been very wrong – and that's what makes the future so scary yet interesting!!

[arolesbianism]

I’ve been having a rough few days, but I’ve been feeling a bit better so I decided to make some lil thingies for some spiraling upwards kitties :3

[pseudowho]

Bedlocked

On a University city trip, someone's got to share a hotel room with Nanami Kento, the class's misunderstood loner...and it's going to be you.

Warnings: College AU! Nanami Kento x Reader, double loss of virginity, "just one bed", heavy make-out, PIV creampie, dry humping, fingering, handjob, both reader and Nanami aged 19

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Nanami Kento wore the awkward bearing of a young man who was surprised by the man he was growing to be. Being uniquely in possession of those excellent traits which were overlooked by girls, but adored by women, he had outgrown himself, from personality to hair, and was unsure how to wear it. Not yet having grown the confidence to lean into his character, and own it, he had been written off by the girls in your class as sullen, boring, miserable-- a downer.

All the girls, that is, except for you. And this was how you found yourself to be sharing a hotel room with Kento, on your thesis research trip to Kyoto.

"--made a mistake with the bookings, we're several rooms short--"

'--well we can share a bed, that's fine, but I'm not sharing with him--"

"--I dunno...I don't think he'd try anything, I just...want to have fun, that's all, and he's a bit..."

You scoffed, pinching the bridge of your nose as the other young women spoke amongst themselves. Kento had not arrived, and yet, was the talk of the group. As the only young man in the class, he had maintained a respectful, professional distance from the young women in it. It had earned him what you thought was a rather undeserved reputation.

Where the others saw uptight, you saw diligence. Where they saw boring, you saw reserved. Where others saw sarcastic, you saw hilarious. Where they saw grumpy, you saw rage against the machine.

In truth, you had long-since harboured an obsession with Kento. His hushed intensity was magnetic, and carried a mass you longed to draw you in. While others saw you as opposites, you saw yourself and Kento as each others' perfect foil. Matching puzzle pieces. Each others' missing ingredient.

And, god, you ached for him, alone at night with your hand drifting downwards. And you would not let him be treated like a leper.

"For goodness' sake, I'll share with Kento." You piped up, seeing the other girls all look round at you. Their eyes drifted, widening in surprise at something behind you, and you did not hear the hotel lobby door swing open and closed outside of your view. "In fact, I'd be delighted to share with him. I'm sure he'll be just as funny and respectful as he always is."

"You think I'm funny."

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the question framed as a statement, and spun round to face Kento...but not as you knew him. You stuttered.

"Oh, wow, Kento...your hair..."

Gone was the sloppy, loping fringe. Instead, Kento's honey-blond hair was neatly parted, undercut, framing his face. All of a sudden, he was so...handsome. Kento glowered down at you, impassive and unreadable. He gave one baleful hum at your assessment of him.

"I assume something happened with the room bookings, then. For you to wind up stuck with me." Before you could answer, Kento pulled his phone out of his pocket, turning back to the doorway with one enormous hand grasping his suitcase handle. "You shouldn't have to make a decision to your detriment. It's not your fault. I'll find somewhere else to sta--"

Kento was interrupted, by your hand clasping over his on his suitcase handle. A grunt of surprise left his lips, at the feel of your dainty hand on his. He looked down at them, his expression always somewhere between anger and irritation. You knew better.

"Stay with me. We...get along well. We always have." Kento scowled, his eyes flickering behind you to the other girls, who, while surprised by how a simple haircut could alter Kento so, were sticking to their guns.

"I don't need your pity." Kento sniped, his voice low and earthy, "I'm perfectly happy to le--"

"And I'm perfectly happy to share. Stop being so headstrong and listen to me."

Kento bristled, looking torn between argument and agreement. As the others collected their keys, filing off to their respective rooms, you awaited his decision. With a huff, Kento fetched your room key, and headed off down the corridor. You fizzed with excitement at the prospect of spending more time with him, but suppressed it, following him with an air of assumed solemnity.

The airs and graces were soon dropped, when the door to your room swung shut behind you and Kento, and you found it to have--

"...just one bed. Shit." Kento's face twisted in discomfort, his Adams apple bobbing deliciously as he swallowed. His eyes trailed down to you, and caught your blush as if it were contagious. He turned to grasp the door handle again, stuttering, so unlike himself.

"Couldn't possibly-- absolutely not appropriate-- my mistake entirely-- find somewhere else--"

"Will you? Find somewhere else, I mean?" Kento faltered, his grip on the door handle loosening. He looked at you with something akin to dread. "On cherry blossom week? In historic Kyoto?" By the time you were finished talking, Kento had deflated like a sad balloon animal.

Night had long since fallen. You heard the laughter, baths and showers running, from the girls in the adjacent rooms. Your confidence was a total mask, as you opened your suitcase, rummaging inside for pyjamas. Your heart pounded in your chest, made all the worse by Kento's silent, tortured appraisal of you. You realised, with a jolt, that you had brought nothing but an oversized t-shirt and underwear to wear to bed.

Beneath his eyes, you were transparent. He felt the tension roll off you in waves. Kento cleared his throat, his ears red, a youthful flush across his nose.

"I'll-- I'll go shower." He offered, considering trying to drown himself. He heard you hum, speaking absentmindedly.

"Go on. Smelly boy." You had barely registered what you said, hearing something like a laugh from Kento as he swung the bathroom door closed behind him. You threw yourself face down on the bed, muffling your cries of anguish into a pillow. Kento leaned against the shower wall as water tumbled down his back, trying not to think with his cock, and failing miserably, cursing his body for its feral stupidity.

You remained face down on the bed. Trying to think unsexy thoughts was murder. You had always wondered how Kento looked, long and tight beneath old band t-shirts. You'd had the briefest glimpse of his abs and happy trail once, when he reached above you to switch the projector on in class. How you had restrained yourself from leaning in and licking the soft skin of his navel was beyond you. The thought of the noise he would have made, alone, had kept you going for weeks. The way you caught him looking at you in class the next day, took you the rest of the way.

"Shower's free." You sat bolt upright, your brain short-circuiting to see Kento stood at the bathroom door in nothing but pyjama trousers, steam billowing out across broad shoulders and swept back hair. You forced your mask back into place.

"Thought you'd died in there." You offered, not as casual as you sounded. You fumbled your shower bag and pyjamas out of your bag, and made your way to the bathroom. You and Kento danced awkwardly, trying to skirt round each other. With a grunt of irritation, Kento grasped your upper arms, moving you effortlessly around him into the bathroom. His touch was scalding. You wouldn't possibly make it through the weekend.

By the time you headed out of the shower, tugging at your t-shirt to make it cover more of your thighs, you blushed to your toes to see Kento sat up in bed, bare chested and reading. He read the same sentence over, and over, and over, trying with broken determination not to track his eyes up your legs, and imagine how you tasted between them. Feeling you hurriedly slip into bed beside him made his cock jump, and he reached out with a fumbling hand, switching off the light without warning.

Only the faint bathroom light illuminated the room. You both lay, backs to each other, on opposite sides of the bed. The silence grew oppressively heavy. You felt lightheaded, barely breathing, hyperaware of every noise and movement your bodies made. You were paralysed by thoughts of his honey-rich voice, his lightly freckled shoulders itching to be touched, how it would feel to be trapped beneath him while he fell apart above you.

"I'm sorry." You blinked, hearing Kento's apologetic rumble.

"...what are you sorry for?"

"This...this situation. I know I'm no fun to be around. And I've made my peace with that. But you--"

"You are fun. Very fun. I'm...not going to punish you for being an introvert."

Kento was quiet on his side of the bed, but no more relaxed. You had gathered the guts to reach one hand across the sheets to him, before he threw the covers aside, and moved to sit up.

"You need your own space. I'll sleep on the sofa." The 'sofa' sat at the end of the bed, barely more than a loveseat, and you snatched a hand out, grabbing Kento round the bicep. You almost shivered at the hard cords of muscle there, thicker than your hand by far, barely grasping on as Kento tensed.

"No. You're taller than me. I'll sleep on the sofa--"

"--absolutely not--"

"--stop being such a fucking gentleman and let me--"

"--I'm not a gentleman, it's just basic manners--"

"--listen, I feel fine, just come and share--"

"--offer some mad girl a bed and suddenly you're a gentleman--"

"Kento, please just come to bed with me."

Kento's brain stuttered, now. He rolled to face you, his whole body on fire, trying to sound calm. He was an open book, to you. You felt every nerve ending of your skin put to the flame.

"...come to bed...with you?" You moved to roll away and cover your face with your hands, indescribably mortified. Kento couldn't allow it-- not when he'd daydreamed about this for so long. He grasped your hands, rolling you back over to face him. He looked awkward, not used to his own strength, as you flipped back over with a squeak, and a weak apology from Kento. You had never noticed the beautiful whiskey depths of his eyes, before.

You were lost for words. The tables had turned so suddenly, you had no idea on which side you sat. Kento scoffed, a faint blush on his high cheekbones, scowling into a corner of the room. The silence thickened again. Kento huffed a laugh.

"Go to sleep. I'll...I'll just play some games for a while." He did not want to. He wanted to flip you over again, to hear that squeak again, wondering if you'd squeak or moan when he pressed his weeping length into your--

"Oh...what games did you bring?" Your eyes lit up, sparkling, sitting up in bed with a bounce. Kento melted. He wanted to put you in his pocket. He could manage the urges, but the affection overwhelmed him and he stuttered, fumbling for words.

"Because..." Kento waited on bated breath, your lips plush and parted, crawling just-so towards him on the bed, seeing how your breasts shifted between your arms beneath that fucking t-shirt and maybe she would want this too fuck we wouldn't come out all weekend once we've tasted each other fuck if she were my girlfriend she'd be my whole world wouldn't ask for anything else ever again--

"...because I'm desperate for a Gengar actually but I haven't got anyone to trade my Haunter with and--"

"Oh. I need a Golem."

"Oh."

"Nice."

You both rummaged in your bags, grabbing your GameBoys, and you swore, trying to find the cable to connect them. Kento raised his eyebrows, scooting himself back beside you in bed, and crossing his long legs.

"Really? You brought one? Who did you think was gonna trade with you, one of them out there--"

"I'll be honest, I was relying on you, Kento, like I always do." Kento's ears reddened. He moved to sweep back the fringe he no longer had. Instead, his long fingers swept back through his neat parting, mussing commas of blond over his forehead, in a way that made you want to do the same until his hair was a mess and he was groaning.

You sat shoulder to shoulder, comparing Pokémon teams. Kento favoured Steel and Fighting types in a balanced, well-prepared team with no weak links. You favoured Ghost types and anything cute, in a weird mismatched set-up that surprised your enemies. With your short cable connecting your GameBoys, you sat thigh to thigh. You hadn't noticed your toes scrunching against Kento's, foot, stroking your skin against his. You felt him shiver and tense.

"What-- what are you doing?" Kento asked, his voice catching in his throat. His chest felt tight. His whole being zeroed in on where your skin stroked his. You caught yourself, and curled your toes away, to Kento's disappointment. "It-- it's okay...you don't have to stop." Your games were ignored now, defunct in distracted hands.

You swallowed, the air thick with tension around you. He was so close, you could smell the residue of his cologne, and the natural masculine smell of him, earthy beneath freshly washed skin. The side of your breast, bare beneath your t-shirt, rested against his bicep. You felt his bicep clench, grazing your nipple. He felt the pebbled snag of your nipple against his arm. He knew he'd combust if he didn't feel your skin on his soon; knew his fragile resolve was breaking.

Your foot cautiously stretched back down, the sensitive skin of your toes stroking against the top of Kento's foot. You felt him shiver again, putting his GameBoy down with a grunt, his eyebrows drawn together with am arm over his eyes.

"Do you...like it when I touch you?"

Kento grumbled under his breath, his mouth twisted in faint derision. "Don't be cruel." You blushed, reaching out for his hand. Kento tangled his fingers in yours, pressing the back of your hand to his twitching thigh, and trailing featherlight fingertips over your palm and inner wrist, an erogenous zone you never knew you had until he elicited a shudder from you.

"See." Kento whispered, lightly stroking the spot on your inner arm that connected curiously to your clit and nipples, a fine gold thread of liquid arousal. "You like it, too. So if you don't mean anything by this, just stop. Don't...don't play games with me." He took his fingers away, and you almost whimpered, chasing his touch, begging.

"No, Kento, wait-- please...don't stop."

Kento short-circuited. He had never been so close to the fabled pleasure of anothers' body. Pornography had little impact for one without the flesh-memory of erotic touch. Kento's cock was thick, now, throbbing. You dropped your head to his shoulder, sighing with bliss as his trembling fingers resumed their butterfly kisses to your wrist. The growing tent in his pyjamas, and the way he spread his thighs aside to accommodate his erection, made your mouth water.

Kento shifted, his body moving on instinct, until he was tentatively leaning over you. He wanted to watch your face as he stroked your wrist, examining its fine little tendons and veins, and examining how you arched, your mouth parted, your t-shirt rucking up until he could see the warm squidge of your belly above your underwear. His voice was husky, thoughtful.

"You'd...you'd stop me, right? If you didn't want this?"

"Yeah, I...yeah. But I-- I don't want you to. I want m--"

Kenti bowed his head to drink the unfinished words off your lips, knowing you wanted more just as much as he did. He grunted against the taste of you, his lips shuddering and uncertain, only hoping his sincerity came through. Kissing him back hard, your lips and tongues clashed, both instinctual, hungry, tasting. You and Kento spurred each other on, your mutual desperation rising exponentially with each nip of the lips, each tongue thrust into each others' mouth, each moan snatched and devoured between kisses.

Your hands sunk into each others' hair, ruffling, teasing, pulling, and you whimpered into Kento's mouth at the massage of his fingertips over your scalp. You were drunk. You had to be drunk, so high off the spontaneity of a moment you thought would be planned to a T.

Kento's mouth wandered, pressing and sucking sharp little lovebites into you on his way down your neck. You had ended up tangled around him, beneath him, the tip of his cock almost escaping beneath his waistband. Riding on buckish young urgency, Kento's broad hand had risen to grope your breast, possessive, trembling against the urge to squeeze you too hard. When you whimpered, arching into his touch, his mind flew back to him, shocked and ashamed by his stunning lack of self-control.

"Sorry," Kento gasped, his mouth and hand flying off you as if burnt, "fuck, sorry, 'msosorry--"

He broke off at the sight of you. Strewn, your hair scrunched against the pillow, with love-swollen lips and roses blooming on your neck, you were serene; for him. Thrown like petals onto the sheets, all for him and his mouth and his hands. Kento felt the fog descend again, dampening his judgement, for the instinctual urge to fuck.

"Have you...have you ever..." You felt Kento's meaning. His voice was rough, deep as the valley, and hewn with stone. You shook your head, still supple and dopey from his attentions. Kento's held breath released in one husky groan. He swallowed, shaking his head down at you.

"No, I...me neither. Always wondered, always--" Always what? Always daydreamed about it almost constantly? Always chastised himself for being such a fucking animal? But, the look in your eyes as you drank him in. Kento and you met on that clouded bridge, in the middle. Your pussy ached with promise.

Kento's hand came to settle slowly on your breast again, delighted by the way you pressed into him. His fingers grazed down over your nipple, reaching the hem of your shirt, brushing upwards.

"I can...can I? Please?"

"Please. Please, yes please, god."

"Fuck...I can't...cant believe it-- finally--" Kento didn't seem to realise he was moaning his inner thoughts aloud, rucking your t-shirt up like unwrapping a gift. As your breast freed, Kento shuddered again, slanted brown eyes scrutinising your body with analytical intent, committing you to memory.

His hand ghosted over your tummy, tracing dimples and stretch marks on the way, before curling around your breast, giving the gentlest of squeezes. The noise that left his mouth was somewhere between a cough and a moan. Still possessed by a haze of need, his mouth dipped down, tongue flicking out over your nipple, before capturing it with his mouth as you arched again, keening. He pressed into your arch, one arm planted above your head, the opposite hand rolling your other breast between keen fingers.

He couldn't help but rock the straining underside of his cock against your barely-covered pussy. The material between you was so thin, you could feel the whole length of him, and the tapering shape of his bulbous tip as it snagged against your clit. Kento knew he'd cum like this, if he wasn't careful, and shivered at the idea of spilling his seed all over your belly. He brushed away his hurrying peak, so determined was he that you'd cum before him.

"--keep--keep doing that...Kentoooo--oooh, feels so good--"

A rush of competitive pride burned through him. He couldn't help but murmur against your spit-slick nipple, nuzzling it with his nose.

"Keep telling me...what feels good. Make sure I'm not selfish, 'cos I--I'll just take if you don't--"

Suddenly hyperaware of your own body and how you must look, dopey and blissful as you chased pleasure by rutting his length between your legs, you stopped, and Kento huffed.

"I can hear you--thinking you look stupid-- and you don't--" He scowled down at you, his voice hoarse and strained between heavy grunts of ecstasy. "Will you cum? Like...like that?" Kento nodded down towards where you had been rolling your pussy against him. You tried to pull an arm over your eyes, blushing, extraordinarily embarrassed. Kento tangled his fingers in yours, pressing them over your head.

"Hey-- hey-- listen, I'll...I'll let you see me cum...if you let me see you. Please." You swallowed, mouth watering at the thought of watching Kento break, such sincere fascination trickling down your spine.

"...okay." You answered, uncharacteristically meek. Kento huffed another laugh.

"Good girl." You blushed from hairline to toes, involuntarily bucking up against Kento with his words. He began to rut against you again, the friction good but not quite right, not as good as it could be. You threw caution to the wind.

"Hang-- hang on, I'll just..." You reached a hand down beneath your panties, parting your labia just enough for Kento's heavy length to snag harder against your clit.

Kento's eyes zeroed in on the creamy white discharge on your fingers as you pulled your hand out, and when he continued his motions, you fell supple and needy beneath him again, groaning with the pleasure of his bulbous tip and the ridge beneath it, catching your clit. Pleasure bloomed through you, so much closer to orgasm than you had thought.

"--don't stop--" You begged, arching up towards Kento until he fucked down harder with a broken growl, his own need to cum eclipsed by your pleasure. Drawing one nipple deeper into his mouth, and lubricating the other with his spit to roll it fluidly between his fingers, Kento learned fast, playing you like an instrument until your mouth gaped in a silent cry, your first orgasm received from another, roaring through you in waves.

Kento kept humping against you, not recognising that you had reached your peak. He faltered, hips stuttering and panting as you groaned, squirming and writhing, groping at him with desperate, fucked-out hands. Kento was obsessed, a spurt of pre-cum adding to the slick he'd already made between your legs. Utterly besotted, his slim eyes wide with blown pupils, he shakily raised one hand to stroke your hair, kissing your forehead through the bliss, shushing you with whispered praise.

"--so cute...look so pretty...thank you-- thank you--"

As you came down from your high, you heard him thanking you, and laughed, trying to cover your face as he batted your hands away, playful and smirking. Biting your lip, emboldened by post-nut confidence, you slid your hand down to grip Kento's clothed, pulsing cock. He stilled above you with a grunt, looking so angry again as that feral, desperate haze descended. You begged him, hushed and soft.

"Can I...feel it?" Kento's thoughts burst with single-minded relief. He nodded, breath catching in his chest, allowing you to roll him over onto the bed until you were lying on your side beside him. You stroked his clothed length, fascinated, watching every reaction with cruel innocence.

Unsure how to handle him, you faltered as your hand began to slip inside his pyjamas. Kento had one arm slung over his face, still scowling, wanting desperately to watch you play with his cock, but too self-conscious.

"Here, I'll--" Kento reached down, shucking his pyjamas down until his cock released. Kento seemed embarrassed by his size, distinctly bigger than average, and thick, his pink tip peeking out from beneath his foreskin. Mistaking the cause of your silence for disgust, Kento grimaced behind his forearm, apologising.

"--shit, 'msorry, I know I-I'm--"

"...wow." Your breathless little gasp, followed by your hand immediately circling round Kento's cock, sent his mind blank again, watching you with dumb adoration as you examined the weight of his cock in your hand. Your hand gripped him, stroking from ball to tip with an inexperienced squeeze that had Kento grunting, gasping and bucking beneath you. It didn't matter that you had clearly never handled an erection in your life; for Kento, who had never been stroked by a woman looking at his cock and face with hungry, adoring eyes, he was being rushed towards a toe-curling orgasm.

"--st--sta--stopstopstop, m'gonna cu--m'gonna cum--'m gonna--"

Your hand stopped immediately, and Kento snarled, before gasping, momentarily shocked by his visceral reaction to being teased just to the edge of completion. Your pupils dilated, obscenely aroused by the strange danger of a furiously needy man about to cum in your hand. You were lost in the tease, lowering your head and maintaining eye contact as you threatened your lips just over the tip of Kento's cock.

"...stop?"

Kento was glazed, eyebrows tilted, looking uncharacteristically concerned, darting between your mouth, and your eyes, and back again. His nose flared with hot little pants. A barely perceptible shake of the head. You smiled, laying the flat of your tongue against the tip of Kento's cock, and licking over the bulbous head with an incoordinate pump of his length.

Kento's moan rumbled from his chest outwards, muffled as he bit into his own arm, his mind blown by the wet little sucks of his cockhead that he'd imagined only in his wettest dreams. He hurtled with breakneck speed towards his peak, finishing with frantic bucks and begs.

"--oh my--fucking g-god--huuugh fuckfuckfuck sorry m'sorry--shit--"

Kento came with an uncontrollable roar of pleasure, both arms gripping the pillow beneath his head, biceps straining, balls clenching. You pulled free of his cock with a wet pop and a little cry of surprise, when the first spurt of cum salted your tongue.

You continued to stroke him, obsessed with the jerk of him in your hand, the way he groaned, low and long, with each stripe of thick, white seed up his belly. It was only after the twitches had ceased, his cock sluggish against his belly, that Kento began to gasp like a fish out of water and gripped his hand around yours.

"--sto--sta--stop...fuck...so...sogood sosogood..."

The words left your mouth before you even thought to stop them, a years old masturbatory kink suddenly within reach. "Can you cum like that inside me?"

Kento stared at you in mute shock, his neat new haircut mussed beyond repair. His post-cum brain struggled to process your request. You frantically babbled to reassure him.

"--I--I mean no condom--and hear me out hear me out-- I've got good protection-- and and I've never and you've never so we won't catch anything--"

Kento was above you, flipping you onto your back and suckling at your neck again within seconds. You heard his oddly grown-man chastisement into your neck, while his body moved in the total opposite direction.

"So fucking irresponsible-- just just "oooooh cum inside me Kento" just like that, fuck-- do you think I'm--I'm fucking stupid? Sh...shit...fucking yes please I can't believe I'm doing this--"

Kento's cock had barely softened, graced by the barely-there refractory period of youth. He was thick, heavy, and dragging down your belly. You were just as frantic as him, kicking off your underwear and watching Kento hyperfocus again; this time, on your bare sex, right before his eyes.

He knelt back, gripping himself in his fist as if holding himself back. Feeling his sharp eyes penetrate you, you moved to close your legs. Kento looked at you as if you were mad, batting your thighs aside with his knees as you covered your face, mortified.

"Beautiful." He berated, rubbing his fingers through the cum spattered on his belly, and sinking them down to glide cautiously between your labia. You gasped, squirming, and Kento watched his fingers coat with your slick with a gulp, feeling a fresh burst of blood engorge his cock until he ached.

He leaned to his bag, rummaging and cursing, before coming back up with a bottle of lube. You shot Kento a look and he shot you a look in return, berating you again with a voice stricter than fitting for his age; "I was expecting a room of my own."

"Oh yeah? How's that working out for you?"

"Very well actually-- stop laughing or I'll--"

"...you'll what? Make me?" You asked, coy. Kento let out a strangled little groan, and pinched the bridge of his nose as you laughed.

"...don't even...dont even know what you're asking...idiot--" Kento huffed as you drew a crooked smile out of him, your joyful muffled giggles a natural balm to his baseline rage. You stilled again, breathless as you watched him stroke his pulsing cock, your throat dry with voyeuristic anticipation. Kento panted, beyond embarrassment and hanging on by a thread.

Kento stroked some lube between your puffy folds, eyes heavy as you squirmed, prodding one finger softly at your entrance. You stilled beneath him, holding your breath. Kento tangled your fingers in his.

"Breathe." He hummed, and as you released a shaking breath, Kento began to ease one slick finger inside you. Your mouth dropped open, eyes closed beneath raising eyebrows, as Kento slid his long finger into you all the way to his knuckle. He hadn't realised he was holding his breath until he felt lightheaded.

"...you...you feel...fuck, incredible, so--so tight..." Kento whispered, his voice low and gravelly, that same primal urge to fuck immediately into you threatening to cloud his brain. By the way you gazed up at him, still and supple, you would probably let him too and he could just push right in and--

"...we'll take it slow," Kento reassured you, tight and tense, "...and I'll stop straight away if...if it hurts."

Your eyelids fluttered to feel Kento's thick tip prod at your entrance, sure he wouldn't fit until he pressed forwards, and you stretched like you'd never stretched before. You bit your lip against the faint sting, nodding urgently and gripping Kento's thighs as he looked at you in concern.

Kento was lost in the moment, his eyes zeroing in on where he gradually sheathed himself inside you. He'd never felt such exquisite pleasure, obsessed by how your plush walls moulded to the shape of him, sucking him in, slick and tight. You squeaked, biting into Kento's shoulder as he bore down on you, his cock almost sunk to the hilt. He stilled as he bottomed out, his fingertips bruising on your hip, trembling with jagged groans.

You felt so strangely placid, full, and wrapping your legs around the small of Kento's back to lock him inside you. The brief sting, the belly-deep ache, left you feeling like you had made a blooming transition from girl to woman in one deep thrust. Kento drank you in, pressing a long, lingering kiss to your lips and mumbling against them.

"...'m not gonna last long." Kento was possessed, pulling out a little before rutting into you again, delighted by your gasp, determined to break more noises out of you. His usual gentle nature was becoming quickly overrun by a firm, authoritative edge, not knowing yet how this would come to define him as a man.

Kento rocked into you, shallowly at first, before gaining the confidence that he wouldn't break you. By the time he had built a rhythm, pumping into you through sweaty pants, your breaths mingling together, he felt the drag of orgasm approaching him fast. Kento's imagination could never have matched up to the reality of dragging his cock through such nectar.

Any time Kento tried to talk, he broke off into anguished pants and groans into your throat, sinking his teeth there for a moment, seemingly irritated by how sloppy he'd become.

"...j'sso...uhnfuck...wet--best thing I--...huhnnn--"

Hearing you whimper and squeak as he moved within you offered him some condolence for being a speechless mess, at least.

Though you knew you wouldn't cum from this alone, you were lost in the addictive feeling of being full and fucked into by Kento chasing an instinctual high. You couldn't help but let your fingers wander downwards, rubbing your clit beneath them. The thick pressure in your belly made your pleasure three-dimensional, so much better than your fingers alone.

Kento was a quiet lover, saying more through heated glances and lingering touches than he ever could through words. Knowing he was holding back for fear of hurting you, you whispered against his ear, sending ripples down his spine.

"--harder-- pleasepleaseplease--"

"Fffuck okay...this?" Kento sunk into you to the hilt and jabbed, urging himself deeper, earning a guttural groan as his cockhead pressed against your cervix and soft-spot. He nodded into your neck, shuddering deeply. "Th-this...yeah...oh fuck, yeah..." Your toes curled against the back of his thighs, and you sobbed with the bone-deep adoration of his kisses to your womb. Kento's restraint snapped, tilting your hips as he gripped you, holding nothing else back.

Kento sped up, driving himself inside you with total abandon, his breaths coming out as spitting curses and groans. Finally, he strained above you, his moans breaking and peaking, unable to hold off any longer;

"--gonna...gonna...cum in you for--for-fucking-ever-- nnggh--"

Watching Kento break and spill himself inside you, his cock jerking with long, painfully pleasurable contractions, was the erotic vision you had sought your whole adult life. Hurriedly working your fingers until your own high hit you, had Kento collapsing on top of you to feel your pussy clenching around him, milking him of every little drop of seed.

Kento was silent, his corded back clenching over you. You nuzzled into his ear, pressing kisses along his jaw until he gave you his lips with a groan. Pulling gently out, and replacing his cock with his fingertips so he could feel how his seed dripped from your cunt, had Kento wondering vaguely how he'd ever use a condom now he'd tasted the ripe-peach of you without a barrier.

You nipped Kento's neck, jolting him back to reality. Glossy doe-eyes glimmered up at him in the dark; and you, desperate to feel full again, completely addicted to him as he was to you.

"...again?"

"...give-- give me a minute."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Heard some strange noises coming out of your room last night."

You kept your face innocently neutral at the breakfast table the next morning. You tipped your head to the side, inquisitive, as if you didn't feel multiple thick loads of Kento's seed soaking your underwear.

"Oh?"

"Mhm." A knowing stare from the other girls at the table. Kento sat down, clearing his throat, his plate piled with what should have been an embarrassing number of pastries.

"She's really good. At Pokémon battles." You had a single moment to admire Kento's absolute gall, the other girls looking at him with vague displeasure as he continued.

"Her Gengar's really strong actually. I wasn't ready for it. I thought Machamp would be a good choice, but--"

The other girls had already lost interest, turning their conversations elsewhere. Kento looked up at you from the other end of the table as you mouthed oh my god at him. He was inscrutable, apart from his twinkling eyes.

You were fortunate that none of these girls were at your wedding, years later. But you did occasionally still refer to making love as 'Pokémon battles', if just to hear your impassive, suited, quiet man laugh.

[inkedinshadows]

First of all congratulations for 1000 followers 🎊🎉🎊🎉🎊🎉 it’s honestly amazing and you deserve all the best❤️❤️❤️ also happy new year 🎆🎆🎆 secondly, all the prompts are super good it, I had such a hard time choosing from them cause they that are all amazing, anyway I think 19, 20 and 21 just fit together perfectly for an angsty Azriel fic.

Broken Vows

Pairing: Azriel x f!reader

A/N: thank you so much anon, you're the sweetest! <33 And happy new year one month too late oopsie 🤭

Prompts: "I trusted you." + "Don't leave me now. Please. I still need you." + "Baby, please, just look at me."

Warnings: Az is not the best partner here (I promise he didn't cheat)

Word count: 1.3k

It must be a dream. A nightmare.

Whatever was happening, it wasn't real. It couldn't be. You refused to believe it.

Azriel was still talking, but you weren't listening anymore. His words blurred together in your mind, yet his first few sentences remained sharp, playing over and over in your head.

I've found my mate.

You had never been the jealous type, so it hadn't bothered you when he began spending more and more time with Madja’s new apprentice. It had started as small talk after her visits and you usually lingered too. Talya seemed nice enough—quiet and reserved yet friendly.

You hadn't questioned it when Azriel started visiting the apothecary for even the slightest headache. But then those visits became too frequent. He went there even when both of you felt perfectly fine.

You should have realized something was off when Azriel became distant. The signs had been there. You had just been too blind to see them.

But the problem wasn't that he had found his mate, was it?

I want to be with her.

A few simple words, and the whole world collapsed around you.

“Baby, please, just look at me.” His voice finally cut through your thoughts. “I know this is hard to hear, but let me—”

“You promised,” you interrupted him. Your eyes met his from where he sat at the other end of the couch.

“Baby…” he began, but you cut him off again.

“You promised,” you repeated, your voice rising as tears pricked your eyes. “You promised!”

Guilt flashed across Azriel's face, and he at least had the decency to remain silent as you pressed on.

“You said you'd reject your mate for me, Az,” you blurted out. Hot, angry tears rolled down your cheeks, but you barely noticed. “It was in your wedding vows, for gods’ sake!”

Azriel shook his head. “It's not that simple. I don't—”

“Isn't it?” you interrupted again. “Because it seems simple enough to me. You just reject the bond, like I did.”

His expression immediately hardened. “I don't want to reject the bond. If you would only let—”

“Why wouldn't you want to reject it?” you demanded.

“Because she's my mate!”

“And I'm your wife!”

For a moment, you just glared at each other. His shadows swarmed nervously around his wings, but then his shoulders slumped and his expression softened slightly.

“Can you let me explain?” he asked, studying you. “Please.”

With a sigh, you wiped your cheeks before crossing your arms over your chest. You simply looked at him, waiting.

“I don't want to lose you, baby,” he said softly.

“I don't see how that is going—”

Azriel stopped you mid-sentence. “Let me finish? Please?”

You rolled your eyes but gestured for him to continue. Listening to him was the last thing you wanted right now, but maybe he was going to surprise you. Maybe he was going to say it was all just a joke, a prank, and you'd be mad, but it would be fine.

You were grasping at straws, and you knew it.

“I still want to be with you,” Azriel said. He shot you a sharp look when you opened your mouth, and you sank back against the couch to let him continue. “But I also want to explore this bond with her.”

You scoffed. “So what? You think you can have both of us?” You shook your head, something vicious twisting in your gut. “That's not going to work, Azriel.”

You rose from your seat to head upstairs. You needed time to think, to figure out what to do. If you stayed, you would only get angrier. You had already cried and had no desire to do it again. But if you left, maybe you could spare yourself the fury.

Though the pain—the ache in your heart—could not be avoided, no matter what you did.

“Talya said that she understands the situation and she'd be willing to—”

You froze on the spot. Azriel must have realized he'd said the wrong thing because he didn't finish the sentence. His eyes dropped to your clenched fists as you turned back to face him.

Your restraint was gone. You wouldn't hold back now.

“You talked to her before you talked to me?” you seethed.

“Well, I…” Azriel seemed to be grasping for words. “She's my mate,” he repeated, as if that was explanation enough.

“And I'm your wife!” You threw your hands up. “I have been for the last two centuries!”

“I'm sorry, baby, but I—”

“Don't you ‘baby’ me, Azriel!”

He lowered his gaze, but you were too upset to care about the hurt look in his eyes. It was nowhere close to the heartache he was causing you.

“You know why I never worried about you finding your mate?” you asked. He looked up at you, but even if he had planned on saying something, you didn't give him time. “Because you promised you'd choose me. You promised you would reject the bond. And I believed it, believed you. I trusted you.”

You were well aware of what rejecting a mating bond felt like, how difficult it could be to deal with. Even without feelings involved, even knowing that you and your mate wouldn't have been a good match, it had still taken you two weeks to feel whole again. But Azriel had been there, filling the empty spot where your bond had been with his love.

You had never regretted your choice. You never had a reason to.

“And now I find out that not only did you spend time with her knowing she was your mate,” you went on, “but that you also want to be with her?”

Azriel’s voice was firm, edged with frustration. “I told you I want to be with you too, didn’t I?”

“Mother above, Azriel,” you snapped. “You think that makes me feel better? I trusted you, but you didn't even try.”

You had fought before. After two hundred years together, arguments were inevitable. But you usually talked it out and reconciled after a few hours—a day at worst. Maybe that was why Azriel didn't look particularly concerned.

Until you slipped the wedding band off your finger and tossed it onto the couch beside him.

His eyes widened in shock, and his usually restless shadows stilled behind him. You both stared at the ring, the silence stretching as your anger faded, leaving behind only a broken heart.

“You can't have your cake and eat it too, Az,” you finally said, your voice calmer now, resigned.

You turned on your heel again.

“I'm leaving,” you announced, already walking toward the stairs. You could go stay with your parents. They would welcome you without pressing for an explanation.

Azriel snapped out of his stupor and stood, reaching for you.

“Don’t leave me now. Please. I still need you.” His fingers closed around your wrist. “I still love you.”

You yanked your arm free, but didn't turn to face him. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him as you bit out, “You should have loved me enough not to pursue your mate. You promised.”

He tried to stop you again, his shadows swirling around your legs as if to keep you from walking away from their master.

“Baby, that's not—”

You turned back one last time. Tears lined your eyes and your voice broke on the words. “I should have been enough, Azriel.”

You didn't wait to hear his response. You didn't try to go upstairs to pack some clothes.

Unable to stomach his presence any longer, you winnowed away.

a/n: technically, this is the end. I wanted to leave it open and hanging, but the more I think about it, the more I realize that I am a sucker for happy endings so I might write a part 2 bc I already have an idea :))

Taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch @georgiadixon

1k taglist: @onebadassunicorn @thegoddessofnothingness

[strawberryunsaid]

Nayeon's Solo

It's Nayeon's idea to start a "special fanmeet" for her most dedicated ONCE. The group was intrigued by the idea, but the eldest has to give it a try first.

Nayeon x Male reader

Length: Almost 1.5k.

"You want to what?!"

All of Twice exclaimed once Nayeon brought up the idea of this "special fanmeet" for Once.

"Imagine, we get to reward our most loyal ONCEs AND we get to have a little fun!" says Nayeon.

Chaeyoung smirks a little, she knows her Nayeon unnie has wanted to do this for a while, and she approved of it. She maybe wants to try it next too.

"Well if you're going to propose the idea, you might as well start it!" says Jeongyeon.

"Oh, I'm already planning it. Manager unnie has gathered the fans who have spent the most money on my solo, and invited them to a special "meet and greet" with me. It's gonna be fun!"

Jihyo scratches her head at the thought "Wait, so how many people did you invite?"

"Around, 10-20 maybe?"

Jihyo laughs and pushes Nayeon "THERE'S NO WAY YOU CAN HANDLE ALL THAT!"

"You underestimate me." Nayeon winks as she exists the dorm, getting ready for a very special and intimate fanmeet.

The day of the fanmeet arrives. She wore her red stage outfit to the fanmeet as she knows it accentuates her body, makes her tits and ass plump, tempting the ONCEs to give her a great time.

She's backstage with her Manager unnie. "Are you ready for this Nayeon?" her manager asks, concerned as this is the first of its kind in the group. Manager unnie has done her research, only boy groups have done this kind of fanmeet in the industry.

"I'm ready. How many minutes do I have with each fan?"

"We have allotted 2 hours for this fanmeet. There's around 20 people here right now, so you'll do 6 minutes per person."

"If they don't finish within the 6 minutes, just skip to the next ONCE, right?" "That's right."

Nayeon smiles in excitement.

"If anything goes wrong, we have bodyguards set up in every nook and cranny of this room. Outside, of course, but you just need to say our safe word the moment you feel uncomfortable, got it?"

"Got it. You're the best, Manager unnie."

Manager unnie smiles and gestures her to go to the stage.

The crowd cheers as Nayeon enters the stage.

"Annyeonghaseyo, TWICE Nayeon imnida!"

They may be only 20 of them, but they were a loud 20. Nayeon counted 19 males and only 1 female. 1 female? This is gonna be interesting.

On the stage is one long table, 2 chairs that are next to each other, not across each other like in normal fanmeets... And a mattress.

"So, you're all wondering why you're here today, yes?"

The crowd nods and answers in approval.

"Well, I'm sure you've heard rumors of male groups having "special fanmeets" with their fans, right?"

Nayeon notices the small smirks and surprised faces that the ONCEs were making. She bites her finger in excitement.

"So here's what we'll do. We have 2 hours, let's make the most of it! Manager unnie gave you all numbered tickets, and I'll call you on one by one. You shall each have 6 minutes with me, please take care of me! Number 1, please step forward!"

The shy ONCE makes his way towards the stage. A timid Korean guy who's dressed in TWICE merch and holding a lightstick.

"A-annyeonghaseyo, I'm such a big fan Nayeon noona."

"That's sweet, but if I were you I would stop wasting my time talking and get to playing with me."

The ONCE still wasn't sure what to do during this fanmeet, he didn't want to assume anything as it could get him in trouble if he does something wrong.

"Oh for god's sake." Nayeon goes in for the first move. She grabs his hand and puts one finger in her mouth. She looks at him extremely seductively, like she was going to pounce on you like a wild animal.

You can hear the crowd increasingly get louder... And hornier. The male ONCEs start moving around their crotch areas, as they get harder at the sight of Nayeon getting seductive on stage. The one female also get horny, as she starts putting her hand in her pants and starts playing with herself.

"Now... Do you know what to do?" asks Nayeon to #1 and the rest of the crowd.

The timid ONCE nods in approval. He takes his right hand and puts it on her butt. He squeezes it tight, like he's never grabbed an ass before. Well, no ONCEs has grabbed Nayeon's ass before.

Nayeon takes his hand out of her mouth, leaving a trail of saliva as his hand descends. She goes in for kiss, and they start to make out.

He gets so horny from this, he uses his left hand to grab Nayeon's crotch area, and starts to play with her pussy from the outside. An audible moan escapes Nayeon's mouth, but she was still making out with the ONCE.

He couldn't take it anymore, his penis wanted to break free. He stops making out with Nayeon and takes out his dick.

Nayeon knows what to do. She's a pro at this.

She pulls his arm towards the mattress and she kneels. She starts sucking his penis, and the ONCE still couldn't believe this was happening.

She's sloppy with the blowjob. A ton of saliva on his dick, which makes Nayeon's bobbing that much more smoother. With every in and out of Nayeon's mouth, you can hear an audible slurp. This was a dream that the ONCE didn't want to end.

He only has a few minutes left, and he tends to make the most out of this. He bends over and pulls up Nayeon's shirt from behind. Nayeon stops the blowjob and raises her arms. The cold wind finally touching Nayeon's inner skin. The only thing separating this ONCE from one part of heaven was a red lace bra. He goes in, unclips it, and a pair of wonderful breasts pop out of the bra.

"God I wish I had a camera for this." says the ONCE.

"I know you do, that's why this whole thing is being recorded and you can buy it for a few hundred US dollars if you want to remember this night." Nayeon points to the camera on top of the curtains.

Nayeon may not have the biggest pair of boobs in TWICE, but she does know how to use them.

She pulls the ONCE down to the mattress, making him lay down... Making him her prey.

"I need you to do something for me." she says. "Anything." "Lick my pussy while I give you a heavenly boob job."

He nods. She removes her shorts that were embracing her lower body. A matching lace panty revealed.

The ONCE had a panty fetish, so he gave a request to Nayeon. "Can I have the panty?" "Do you want to buy it?" "Yes." "It's all yours, honey."

She takes off her panty and sets it on the table next to the mattress.

"Discuss it with my manager unnie after the show."

He then starts to lick her pussy while Nayeon gave him a boobjob.

The crowd was in awe of what was happening. Their soloist TWICE bias was right in front of them, giving them a private sex fanmeet. This was everything and more. They couldn't help themselves while watching Nayeon fuck this ONCE. They all started touching themselves, holding in an orgasm to not waste their time with Nayeon.

2 minutes left.

Nayeon stops the blowjob, sits up and grabs the ONCEs head, gesturing for him to stop.

"Time for you to get a glimpse of heaven."

She fixes her position, lowering her pussy towards the penis. She grabs his penis, teasing the wet entrance of her pussy, she leans in towards his ear,

"I'm ready for you to fuck me."

She puts his penis in, and she starts moaning so loudly that the guards outside can hear her.

"Ah! Ah! Ah!" she exclaims, bouncing up and down this ONCE. He has his hands on her hips and letting her do all the work. He couldn't stop staring at her. Her erotic face, moaning and screaming at every thrust. Her bouncing tits, he could have never imagine seeing her boobs this up close, let alone fucking her.

And seeing his penis enter her pussy with every bounce. It was a dream.

Less than a minute left, he's about to cum.

"N-Nayeon noona, I'm about to cum." "Then do it inside me." she stares at him seductively, daring him to do it.

The ONCE screams as he cums, Nayeon smiling as she conquers her first in a line of fans.

She gets up, cum escapes her pussy. What a beautiful creampie. But she gets back down, leans into his ear one more time.

"Let's do that again next solo... As long as you keep proving yourself you're my biggest fan.

Next!"

[ssahotchnerr]

What if a drabble about this https://twitter.com/bxnksi_/status/1754954693329998141?t=QfzPSplktYI04Owlt-gzSg&s=19 I just know hotch's gonna be taking that kiss IMMEDIATELY like no thoughts. He'll be like, "screw my point and kiss me".

priorities

this cw; bau!reader, established relationship, kissing, light suggestion, brief arguing into fluff, 6x22 references - this relates to aaron coaching jack's soccer team <3

the team's prying eyes couldn't help but be directed upwards as they attempted to work, due to the visual of you and aaron going at it through his office window. your hurried and raising voice also drifted out his slightly ajar door from time to time.

"it's not fair to you aaron." you insisted, mentally urging him to stop being so stubborn and understand your point. "i get that they need a coach, and it's wonderful they thought of you, but you're too preoccupied."

aaron scoffed lightly, crossing his arms as he leaned back against his desk, "preoccupied?"

you gave him a look - c'mon. it was a rather accusatory word, you'd admit it, but he knew what you meant. "the league should be resolving their own problems."

"isn't them asking an attempt to do so?"

"but it's not your problem, or is it your responsibility to accept. i know you feel obligated to and," you reached out to touch his arm affectionately, reminding him you were on his side. "it's so sweet of you to jump at it. but please think about it realistically."

aaron exhaled a breath of his own, turning his eyes away from yours in a subtle eye roll.

"aaron," you gaped at him, your frustration quickly turning into annoyance. "you're in the fbi. you're a unit chief, for god's sake. don't you think they should ask someone who's not on such a strict, unpredictable schedule? what happens when you can't make it to a practice? to a game?"

as you fired off all the reasonings, even throwing in the example that jessica did swing by once to pick up jack upon getting a call for a case - aaron fell quiet, knowing you were right.

he felt obligated; being unreservedly himself, he wanted to be the one to step up and take the initiative. jack's soccer team deserved someone willing and wanting to provide their undivided attention as coach, given majority of the parents were more preoccupied by their phones than watching their own kid. focus - he could provide such.

another convincing factor, being coach would provide him more time with jack. these days, the fact jack was growing up, rapidly, was slowly sinking in. before he knew it, aaron would blink and jack would prefer to do anything else than to hang around his father.

but again, from a realistic standpoint, you were right. trying to navigate a soccer team with his crazy schedule would be extremely difficult; the potential aspect of not being around, and then potentially not being able to find reliable cover - an inevitable, ongoing complication, despite how badly he wished he could manage it.

aaron hadn't meant for this to turn into a disagreement either. to be fair, he had just returned from a meeting with strauss, which always amp'ed up his disposition in one way or another.

but now you were getting heated, and as you thoroughly stated your case, aaron's eyes involuntarily kept flicking down to your lips. the more he attempted to avert his eyes away, they only lingered more.

and not wanting to argue further, he quickly surrendered to his own argument, the only thought beginning to maintain importance was how badly he wanted - no, needed - to kiss you.

"go ahead, say it."

your remark regained his attention, "say what?"

"i know that look, so go ahead." you crossed your arms, huffing a frustrated breath of air out of your nose. you had mistaken his lack of focus for another impending, contrasting detail of his, "say it."

"kiss me."

your expression changed at once; irritation shifting to a softened confusion. "what?"

"what? do you want me to beg?" aaron tossed out, a glint surfacing in his eyes and warming you from the middle out, "fine, you're right, forget about it. now kiss me."

you opened your mouth to respond, but aaron took that as an opportunity to weave his fingers through the belt loops of your pants, pulling you strictly against him and pressing his lips to yours.

once your initial surprise wore off, and focusing on how soft aaron's lips felt on yours, you kissed him in return with just an equal amount of gentle vigor.

you pulled away, your mind attempting to resist his everlasting temptation, bringing your index finger to his chest. "this isn't resolvin-"

but aaron chased your lips, immediately pressing his back to yours and stopping you mid-sentence. you reciprocated eagerly, sighing softly against his lips in content as your fingers found hold on the sides of his suit jacket.

"you're absolutely ridiculous." you laughed against his lips, providing one more chaste kiss before successfully pulling away, your cheeks flushed.

"am i?" he quipped back, rather playfully as his eyebrows rose, a cheeky expression plastered on his face - one of which only made you want to kiss him wildly.

"yeah, you are." you bantered back, exhaling to ease yourself back to the real world, which aaron also assisted in with his next statement, dropping the matter yet again.

"i'm still expecting your supplementary report on the houston case by the end of the day." he said, his hand sliding down your back and patting your ass, playfully urging you to get a move on. "get back to work."

you nearly released an audible groan but instead rolled your eyes, bringing yourself to peck aaron's lips once more. on your way out, you tossed over your shoulder. "this discussion isn't over, you know."

due to your restrained line of vision, you missed the small smirk of his lips. "and if it ends similarly, i'll be looking forward to it."

[reidsworld]

Beekeeping Age

Summary: Who knew having a crush on your best friends dad would turn out so good? Based on this request.

Pairing: Hugh Jackman x Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff

Content Warnings: Age Gap (25 and 55), Secret Relationship, not proofread

Mars speaks... Thank you so much for the request, I'm sorry it took me so long to respond! Also I'm pretty sure his daughter is like 19 but for the sake of this, she's like 25 lol.

Masterlist

You and Ava had met in your first year of university. She was studying communications, and you were pursuing cinema, but your friendship clicked immediately. Movie nights turned into inside jokes, and your shared love for Formula 1 only solidified the bond. By the time you were finishing your degree, her house felt like a second home.

And her dad? Well, Hugh Jackman was always around, friendly and easy to talk to. Over time, your admiration for him began to grow into something more, though you’d never admit it out loud… until one day, a TikTok joke set things in motion.

“You know what we should do?” Ava said, sitting beside you on the living room floor, phone in hand.

“What?”

“This audio!” She played a popular audio on tiktok about beekeeping age.

You snorted, shaking your head. “Seriously? You wanna do that?”

“Come on, it’ll be hilarious,” she said, nudging you playfully. “Besides, half the world already has a crush on my dad.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fine.”

With a laugh, you both set up the shot. Ava played the part of the daughter, gushing over her dad’s wholesome bee-keeping hobby, while you delivered the punchline.

When you finished recording, Ava burst out laughing. “Oh my God, that was perfect.”

You laughed along, but you couldn’t help but feel the warmth creeping up your face. The joke hit a little too close to home. Ava raised an eyebrow, catching your expression.

“Wait…” she began, eyes twinkling with amusement. “You don’t actually—”

“What? No!” you quickly protested, but she kept laughing.

“Oh, come on. Everyone’s into him! I mean, he’s Hugh Jackman. It’s fine,” she teased.

You flushed but waved it off. She had no idea how much truth there was behind that joke.

A few days later, you found yourself chatting with Hugh after one of his early morning runs. You were both sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee in comfortable silence.

“Ava tells me you’re a big F1 fan too.” Hugh said, glancing over with a grin.

“Yeah, I’ve been obsessed for years,” you said, grateful for the change in subject. “I actually studied cinematography partly because I loved the way F1 races are filmed.”

Hugh’s eyes lit up with interest. “No kidding? I didn’t realize that’s what got you into it.”

You nodded, feeling more at ease. “I’ve always loved how dynamic the sport is—the speed, the angles, the tension.”

“Well,” Hugh said, leaning back in his chair, “speaking of F1, Ryan just gave me tickets to the next race with Alpine. I was thinking of taking Ava and… maybe you, if you’re interested?”

Your eyes widened in excitement. “Wait, really? You’re inviting me to watch the race from the garage?”

He chuckled at your reaction. “Absolutely. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think you’d enjoy it.”

The race weekend was a dream come true. Standing in the Alpine garage, so close to the action, was something you’d always fantasized about. Hugh was at your side, just as enthusiastic, and you found yourself growing more comfortable around him. As the weekend progressed, your conversations flowed effortlessly—from F1 to films to life, and everything in between.

By the end of the trip, there was an undeniable connection between the two of you. You couldn’t help but feel that spark.

What started as innocent conversations turned into something more over time. Hugh would call or text you when he wasn’t busy, and the two of you found more excuses to spend time together. Coffee runs became long walks, and movie nights became opportunities to hang out alone. It wasn’t long before you realized your feelings for him were deeper than a crush.

The sneaking around was thrilling, but it also felt right. You and Hugh kept things under wraps for a while, not wanting to complicate your friendship with Ava.

One evening, you were relaxing on the couch, scrolling through TikTok when an edit of Hugh popped up on your feed. It was a compilation of his movie moments, and you couldn’t help but smile at how good he looked in each clip. As the video played, you whispered to yourself, “He really is amazing…”

You didn’t notice Hugh walk into the room until he chuckled from behind you. Startled, you looked up, realizing he’d seen the reflection in your glasses.

“Why watch videos when you have the real thing right here?” he teased with a playful smirk.

You blushed, embarrassed. “I—uh, I wasn’t—”

But he just laughed and sat down beside you. “It’s alright. Still nice to know I’ve got some fans out there.”

Eventually, you both knew you couldn’t keep the relationship a secret forever. The guilt was starting to weigh on you, and Ava had always been too important to lie to.

Sitting in the kitchen one afternoon, you glanced at Hugh nervously. “I think it’s time we tell Ava.”

He nodded, though he looked just as apprehensive. “Yeah, I think you’re right.”

You sat down with Ava, your heart pounding in your chest. “Ava, I need to talk to you about something important.”

She looked up from her phone, sensing the seriousness in your tone. “What’s going on?”

You exchanged a quick glance with Hugh before speaking. “I’ve been seeing someone… and it’s your dad.”

Her eyes widened, and the room fell silent. You could see the surprise and confusion on her face as she processed what you had said. The tension in the air was thick as you braced yourself for her reaction.

“This is… really weird,” she finally said, rubbing her forehead, “but I still love you guys. I guess I just wasn’t expecting that.” She looked between the two of you, a small smile forming. “Just treat him well, alright?”

Relief washed over you as the tension melted away. You hadn’t known what to expect, but Ava’s acceptance lifted a weight off your shoulders.

“I promise,” you said with a smile.

Mars speaks... Thank you for reading, any and all feedback is always appreciated 🫶

[xxgothchatonxx]

In Dracula, Lucy's whole arc is is also very much a tragedy, because she is introduced as a 19 year old full of life and hope, confined by her mother, but eager to go into adulthood with the person she fell in love with, and who we see is a decent guy who cares about her and listens to her (unlike Hutter, Holmwood presses Lucy to tell him exactly what her symptoms are and calls his doctor friend). She wants to spend her last summer unwed with her best friend, only for Dracula to afflict her throughout, like a plague. And after thinking she's safe, she's dying, but she keeps fighting for her life and having hope each time she's saved, because she wants to play tennis and fish and ride again. But never able to tell what is happening to her body, always kept in the dark, until she finally violently is torn apart, alone, with her dead mother on top of her, stifling her yet. And as she dies weak and tired on her birthday, a half monster, she's unable to kiss her love because of her viral bloodlust. She then ends up getting killed by the stake and bonesaw on her wedding day. Mina's letters to her asking to come visit were never opened.

The problem is, 99% of directors do this story the opposite of what Eggers did: Turn it into a punishment for Lucy, who is now nothing but vain, promiscuous, spoiled, opens her windows and throws away the garlic to let Dracula in, and sometimes tempts men to cheat. Van Helsing will call her Satan's whore, the audience is relieved they don't have to cry for a dead woman who had it coming, and she ends up being just a display for how strong and irresistable the villain is. You cry for Ellen at the end. In most Dracula adaptations, not even Mina cries for her because she's too busy being into her best friend's killer.

I couldn't agree more, nonnie. (Though I do love Thomas)

Lucy Westenra is one of the most consistently poorly adapted characters I've ever seen. The closest that I can think of that treated Lucy with a fraction of respect was "Lucy Billington" in The Invitation. She was sweet, kind, and even though she was on the villain's side (though i wonder if she was forced into it by her family...), she was clearly stuck in a terrible situation that she regretted at the end. And I was sad when she died. Look, my expectations on "Lucy" portrayals are so low, I will gladly take these crumbs of attempted depth!

The Coppola version is bullshit, the NBC version can go to hell with their biphobic attempt at "progressive queer representation", and the Moffat show... you know, I remember watching that with my bestie who is all too familiar with Moffat's bullshit. We had fun with the show but when they pulled that shit with Lucy, my bestie said "yep... fucking told you he'd do this..."

Which is just baffling because it cannot be that difficult to get Lucy right! Her story is a tragedy, not a "and that's why you shouldn't be a Slut" cautionary tale, for fuck's sake!

The Lucy character in Nosferatu, Anna Harding, was done very well, I thought. Sad she was stuck with a loser like Friedrich (i mean, they were in love... but Fred was a loser) but her friendship with Ellen was so sweet, same with her love for her daughters. It's a case where I knew her death was coming but while it made me sad, it didn't make me angry. And Ellen had the correct reaction to seeing her best friend being attacked by the asshole vampire who was stalking Ellen! Screams of terror and rage towards said asshole vampire! (Well, his rats, but same diff)

Once again, the Dracula fanfiction has a better understanding of Dracula characters than actual Dracula adaptations. Because god forbid we see Dracula as the monster he has always been!

[pedrosyouknowwhat]

Apocalyptic winter

Trilogy masterlist

Pairings: Dark! Joel Miller x Fem! Reader

Chapter warnings: Dead dove do not eat, dubcon borders noncon, coercion, manipulation, pregnancy (not very detailed), pregnancy nausea, age gap (reader is 19-20 and Joel is 56), unprotected p in v, grooming, mentions of Sarah & Sarah's mom, victim blaming, angst, depression

"Baby, who did this to you?"

Blood came rushing into your brain, a dull thumping at your temples as you looked up from your seat in Maria and Tommy's couch. Your body begun to shake, because you had silently prayed they wouldn't ask you that. That they'd be too disappointed to do it. But no, Tommy's worried eyes set on you as Maria couldn't do more than blankly stare at the coffee table before you.

Almost as instinct you shook your head, tears kissing your eyelids in a stinging pace.

"It's our fault," You had heard them mutter in the kitchen as you came to them that morning after pouring your soul out on your toilet; you had felt like shit for almost a month now, and Joel did little to calm you down. His priority after the "date" had shifted, and you felt as if every moment with him revolved around bending you over or getting his hands up your skirt. "We never taught her about it-for fuck's sake she's almost twenty-"

After Maria asked about your period and you had lightly commented that you hadn't got it yet, her eyes glazed over with fear as her dark lips parted.

Pregnant.

That was your diagnostic, and it doomed on you. You could barely understand it as it was, perhaps because you have never had to worry about it, or perhaps because you didn't knew better.

"Babygirl," He called again softly, and it irked you. The nickname both brothers used on you, Tommy in his fatherly concern and Joel in his wild savagery. "You are fine, it's fine, jus' need to know who."

How could you tell him that the man that had done that to you was the man whose pictures hang behind him, on top of the fireplace? The man who had just come for dinner the night before and you had called him an "Ol' grumpy man" as you giggled? the very man that had taken you home afterwards and fucked you until you apologized?

Would you have to tell him, then, all the things you had allowed him to do? How he made you come in his fingers? how he had shoved his cock up your throat? How he had fucked you on the bed Tommy himself had built for you?

"No," You panted, feeling your hands clammy from how tight you had them fisted. "Please Tommy, don't make me-"

"Sweatheart," Maria cooed. "Was it-" She stammered with her words, and you felt her breathe getting ragged, as if she was going to say something unspeakable "against your will?"

You felt something clawing at you, a desire to say yes that was strong as the desire to say no when Joel slammed you against your couch, hiking your knees up and wide. But the same way you would plead for more then, you shook your head stubbornly.

"N-no, no," You chanted, seeing their expressions shift slightly. Oh god, they were so disappointed. "I-I wanted it."

Filth pooled from your lips, filth that Joel had set onto you.

"Baby, we need a name." Tommy spoke again, voice harder now despite his softened eyes.

Any name, you thought, the possibility of lying your way out scaring you by even appearing in your head.

"I can't." You croaked, feeling the tears fall down your warm cheeks as you once again failed them.

"Tommy," Maria called, and you felt grateful the attention wasn't on you anymore, until she mumbled the next words. "I think I know."

You wanted to jump on the couch and scream she doesn't, but that level of disrespect was too much for you.

"Then tell me." He demanded, hands on his hips twitching. Maria gave you one look, as if it was your last chance to repent, before opening her lips.

"I-I didn't want to believe it," she started, and it doomed on you that she knew, every little sight she left out building anticipation on you. You barely noticed how wild your hands were shaking. "but I heard whispers about Joel going into her house at night."

A sob broke the silence, face slamming into your hands; because it was never supposed to go this far, because you thought that if they ever knew it would be because of you. Because once Joel had whispered to hush you, that perhaps were you were old enough, it could be.

You heard thundering steps and you flinched, face still cradled in your hands, but as they dissipated, you managed the courage to look up. Only Maria was in the room, and you were to scared to ask were Tommy was, perhaps you knew better.

But any trace of anger wasn't present in her face, and as she casted one look at you, she stood up from her seat and came crashing down at the couch besides you. She hugged you silently.

You realized how much you missed it when you heard raw, bickering voices nearing the house; you felt yourself shaking once again as the door opened, seeing him so fervently.

You whimpered at his glare, deep dark eyes and dark brows, and at the swelling bruise by his jaw; his lip looked busted too. You remembered what Tommy had once told you when you were fifteen, if any guy tries to be smart with ya I'll be his worst nightmare. But of course you had never imagined the guy to be his own brother.

He escorted him in, glaring holes into the back of his head. Joel stopped, as if waiting for someone to tell him to sit down. His way of acting was uncharacteristic, but you knew he wouldn't pick a fight with Tommy, and it was possibly why Tommy only sported bruised, bleeding knuckles.

He looked at you, and then at him, all in a scowl as Tommy nudged him to sit down. He did, spreading and laying his hand over the back rest on the chair, as if he wanted this over with.

You saw the man that had practically raise you hesitate with his words, anger still coursing through his flushed skin as he held one pointer finger at him.

"Tell me what did you do to her." He barked, deep beneath knowing he didn't want to know, just wanted him to recognize him. Joel stayed silent, eyes jumping from you to him to Maria as he rubbed the scruff on his beard. "Tell me!"

You jolted, catching everyone's attention, shaking so violently tears jumped from your eyes to your lap. You felt yourself becoming sweaty from how profusely you were crying.

"You know what I did-"

His voice was dark, bitter, and it brought shivers down your spine.

"Tell. Me." Tommy repeated. Joel grew irritated.

"Yeah we fucked, is that what you wanna hear?" Joel bit. "What's the big deal? not like I fucking raped her-"

"Do you even know how old she is?"

"Yeah, nineteen." Joel gruffed, but he stared at you as if you could had been lying. "Legal now and legal before."

Tommy laughed dryly, ironically. "Older than what Sarah would be."

The name seemed to perk up you and Joel; you knew who she was, and what happened to her, but never from Joel.

"Keep her out of this shit." Joel growled, thought melancholy strained his voice.

"The shit now is what you have gotten yourself into." Tommy spat, and Joel groaned, the seriousness of the situation escaping him. "You got her pregnant."

As if a bomb had burst, silence spread through in a deafening pace. You felt your chest begin to close as you wanted to claw at him, throw yourself at his feet and beg for him to stay besides you.

He remained stoic, hard as he evaded your pleading eyes.

"Ain't got stuff to take it out like the old days?" He asked Maria, so calmly it made you go cold.

"No, Joel," Maria answered shortly, a tangy bitter drawl. "the world had gone to shit, and once again you are getting the wrong girl pregnant."

The wrong girl. It rung in your ears, because you had been Joel's good girl for too long, his baby girl, his sweet little thing and his perfect little whore.

"Then what do you want me to do?" He questioned, and the way not one of his words were directed to you hurt. Tommy nibbled his lips, unsure too. "We don't precisely have child support here, don't we?"

His words came out cynically, as if searching for a escape goat.

Please look at me, please, let me show you how sorry I am, please, Joel.

"You are-You are going to get everything she needs and makes sure she doesn't have to lift one finger." Tommy decided, making his brother howl in frustration. It felt awry, uneasy, how they were discussing this in front of you, without you having one word to say.

You dueled on what you would say if you had the word, perhaps beg Joel to form a family, perhaps tell Tommy that you can take the burden yourself, but the tension in the living room and the way he looked at you, disgusted, sent you mute.

"Gonna act like she wasn't the one spreading her legs?" Joel irked, making Tommy narrow his eyes at him, dangerously. He looked at you, directly for the first time, and spoke to you in his bittersweet drawl. "Why don't you tell them, honey? how you told me you were ready for it-"

"Enough!" Maria bellowed, raising to her feet. But Joel wouldn't seize it, standing as his thick boots thundered the floorboards.

"Yeah because it's easier to come crying to mommy and daddy about it-"

"Joel!" Tommy barked, cutting him off. "I think it is better for you to leave now, you have done enough."

He spared you one look before turning in his heel, his shoulder bumping against Tommy as he left the Miller's house. No, no, NO, begun thundering in your head as you jump to your feet, ignoring Maria as you followed him out into the open door.

"Joel!" You screamed, and he ignored you, shoulder blades tensing. You ran up to him, clinging to his arm. He stopped, possibly not to trample you as he kept his gaze ahead, onto the slowly-filling streets. "I-I swear I didn't tell them- please, Joel-"

He shook you off, not with enough force to send you stumbling down, but so enough to staggered in your feet.

"This was a fucking mistake," He growled at you, and you shook your head, pounding from how much you were crying. "and you are a fucking idiot, stupid whore-"

He cut himself off, seeing how you begged at him, and continued walking away. You heard your name being called, but you just felt onto the cobblestone, chest heaving as you cried your little heart out for him.

The rumor spread, until it was no longer a rumor; it was a fact. Joel Miller had gotten you pregnant. You hid in your house for so long your friends stopped dropping by, knowing they will only see you laying in your couch, red faced and hoarse throat.

Joel wouldn't even deliver things himself, Tommy did it. He and Maria dropped by at least once every day, to see how you were going. They saw you cracking, falling deeper and deeper into hysteria each time. You cried, you laughed, you barely ate and then you binged. All as your tummy swelled.

For some moments you felt as if you didn't know what was growing inside of you, something draining your energy that Joel had thrust upon you. You hadn't seen him in months, and it tore at you.

You had changed the scenario millions of times; sometimes mad at him, sometimes mad at yourself, and sometimes even mad at Tommy and Maria for not teaching you better; but those times were only when the pregnancy took the worst out of you, when you found yourself hurling over the toilet seat and dealing with unbearable pain in your body.

He wasn't there either when you had your baby, just Maria by your side. The overwhelming pain left once she handed you the baby, a gorgeous little girl. In Jackson's small, ran down hospital you stared once again into the eyes of Joel Miller; two dark, chocolaty puppy dog eyes that needed you. It was enough for you at the moment.

But the pleasure was short-lived, as you recovered from birth in the small living room of your house, Tommy cradling the baby in his arm as he cooed and giggled at her and Maria massaged your feet, gently.

"Now I have to go get all that pink stuff," Tommy told the baby between giggles. "and I risked my ass for that firefighter truck huh?"

You laughed, recalling the box Tommy had brought a few weeks before, a box with baby clothes and the firey red toy on the top; he hoped for a boy, but he would never tell you.

"What do you mean, risked your ass?" You laughed, picking up on the last sentences, you had taken a good load of pain medications to ease the aftermath. Probably overkill, but it was easier like that. Your giggles dissipated as you saw his expression souring, Maria ceasing her ministration on your soles. "Tommy?"

Confusion nagged at you, and Maria sighed, a tinge of annoyance in her voice. "Well, Joel hasn't brought anything since um, September I think-" she then added quickly, seeing your horrified expression, "But don't worry yourself about it-"

You gasped in awe, a bit of pain shooting into your chest. Mostly for becoming such a burden to Maria and Tommy, but Joel was... unbelievable.

You had allowed him not coming to see you, you had taken his absence and disinterest, but this hurt worse than that. This was disrespect.

And the thing was, that you had grown tougher. You felt obliged to, for your sake, and your baby's sake, you had left behind your girly fantasies of love and sneaking drinks in the Tipsy Bison. Somehow, Joel Miller had made you a women in more than one way.

And he was about to see it for himself.

[edenesth]

The Way to His Heart [19]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.9k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 18 | Fic Masterlist | Part 20

"What do you mean it will take weeks for me to fully recover? I don't have that kind of time, Yunho. This war isn't over yet." Your husband frowned, his gaze fixed on the physician from his position on the bed.

You sighed, stepping closer to the doctor, your concern evident, "Seonghwa, Physician Jung is doing his best. How can you return to battle if you're not physically strong enough? What good will that do, hm? And remember, you've acknowledged Officer Song's strategic prowess. Perhaps it's time to have a little faith in him for now."

Like magic, your words softened the general's hardened expression as he nodded in defeat, "Fine, I suppose you're right," He offered you a smile before turning back to Yunho, "I trust you've at least written back to Mingi to assure him I'm fine, right?"

"It's done, my lord."

"That's good; things should be stable for now. We dealt a significant blow to the Ruhon forces in our last battle. It's unlikely they'll launch any new attacks soon, considering their diminished numbers. If things continue to go well, this war might conclude sooner than expected." Seonghwa remarked, feeling optimistic.

"I certainly hope so, for everyone's sake. I made sure to inform Officer Song that you'll need a few weeks to recover. If they need you urgently, I'm sure he'll write back promptly," The physician assured, relieved to see your husband immediately agree with him, calming down so quickly with your presence, "Yes, I'm sure he will." Yunho knew for certain that without you there, he would have had a much harder time attempting to soothe the older man's frustration.

Sensing the general's longing gaze toward you, the doctor suppressed a knowing grin. Understanding that he was interrupting your much-needed private moment, he decided it was time to leave you both alone. With a final bow, he excused himself, "Well, that's all from me for now. I'll return tomorrow for your bandage change and medication. Good day, General Park and Lady Park."

After the physician left the room, you approached Seonghwa to ensure his comfort, tucking the comforters snugly around him and adjusting the pillow behind his back. His eyes remained fixed on your face, which he had missed dearly, as you fussed over him, "Is the temperature alright? Let me know if it's too hot or cold," You inquired. He nodded, and you continued, "Are you hungry? You must be. I'll ask the kitchen staff to prepare something for you—"

Before you could step away from his bedside, he grasped your wrist, his expression displaying a small pout, "Stop, my love. I just want you to stay with me, please."

You softened, placing your hand over his and giving it a reassuring squeeze before brushing some of his hair away from his face, "I'm sorry, I was just worried about you. You've been away at war for so long. I wanted to make sure you have everything you need now that you're home before you eventually return to the battlefield."

He smiled, his hold on your wrist tightening slightly, "All I need is you." He murmured, gently pulling you closer into his arms.

Feeling your heart melt at his words, you relaxed into his embrace on the bed as he pulled the comforter over both of you. Nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck, you sighed contentedly as he kissed your temple. He felt complete with you so close again, "God, I missed you so much," He confessed, "Out of all the wars I've fought, this has to be the most dreadful one. Not because it was tough, but because I couldn't stop thinking about you throughout it all."

"I missed you too, Seonghwa," You confessed, drawing in a deep breath to savour his familiar scent, "I never thought I could yearn to be near someone this badly."

His eyes instinctively fluttered shut as you nestled closer to him, pressing his nose against your hair, wishing for this moment to last forever. After a moment of comfortable silence, he couldn't resist asking, "I've heard a lot has happened while I was gone. I'm sorry I wasn't here to help you through it. Tell me everything, my wife."

Taking a deep breath, you started from the beginning, recounting the events that unfolded after the general had departed for war. You described encountering Jinjoo during your visit to the fabric factory with Hongjoong, the surprise visit from the prince to the estate, and his unexpected invitation to the birthday banquet. You explained how he lied about you representing Seonghwa at the event and your gratitude for Wooyoung and San's help in preparing for it.

As you narrated every little detail that occurred at the supposed royal birthday celebration, your husband's heart swelled with pride and admiration. He listened intently, feeling his love for you grow with each word. Your courage in standing up for yourself and defending him in front of Prince Yeosang filled him with immense gratitude. He realised how fortunate he was to have you by his side.

"I'm so proud of you, my darling Lady Park."

With a light scoff, you teasingly pushed him in the chest, "Are you now, my dearest General Park? I still can't believe the first thing you chose to do after coming back was hurt me and push me away."

Guilt immediately clouded his expression as he drew closer to you, emitting a small whine, "I'm sorry, my love. Truly, I am. Speaking those cruel words hurt me more than this damn wound. I promise I didn't mean any of it. You're not troublesome at all, and I do want you with me for the rest of my days. If anything, you're all I need from now until the end of time."

At that, you could no longer bear to continue making him feel bad. Turning serious, you gently caressed the bandaged area on his abdomen before speaking, "I understand, Hwa. I really do. But I swear, if you ever pull something like that again, I won't hesitate to let Hongjoong loose on you."

His heart skipped a beat at the nickname you used for him, one you had never used before, "What did you just call me? Say it again."

Embarrassed, you blinked rapidly and cleared your throat before repeating softly, "I called you Hwa. It's your name, isn't it?"

He nodded with a cheeky grin, covering your hand with his, "Indeed it is. I love how bold you've become, my love. Now, along with that nickname, tell me you love me again."

You blushed at his request, feeling he deserved to hear it as many times as he wanted now that he'd returned to your side safely. Relenting, you bit your lip and murmured, "I love you, Hwa."

"Again." He demanded, resting his forehead gently against yours.

"I love you, Hwa."

"Again, my love." He whispered, leaning in closer with hooded eyes.

"I love you, Hwa."

"Say it for me just one more time."

"I love you so much, Park Seonghwa."

Intoxicated by your presence, he could no longer resist cupping your face and pressing his lips firmly against yours. You kissed him back fervently, eyes fluttering shut as you relished the sensation of his lips on yours. Both your hearts raced as you made up for lost time, pressing close to one another under the sheets. Your cheeks burned up, realising this was the most intimate moment you'd shared with your husband so far.

Gently pushing him away by the chest, you looked up at him, worry evident in your eyes, "That's enough, Hwa. You're still injured—"

But before you could finish your sentence, he leaned in, capturing your lips in another loving kiss. You gasped in surprise, but your resistance crumbled quickly as he deepened the kiss. Maybe just for a little longer, you thought to yourself, giving in to the moment.

As he savoured the feeling of having you so close, Seonghwa's emotions swirled within him like a tempest. He needed this closeness desperately, especially after the fear he'd felt earlier, thinking he might be close to death. The regret for hurting you with his words gnawed endlessly at him, and he despised the idea of being separated from you again. How could he have ever entertained the thought of you being with another man? The mere thought of Prince Yeosang in his place, holding you, touching you, kissing you, filled him with an uncontrollable jealousy that bordered on madness.

These thoughts fueled a surge of aggression within him as he flipped you around on the bed, trapping you beneath him. He loomed over you, his gaze intense as he whispered, "Mine. You're all mine."

As much as the sudden action flustered you and caused your heart to skip a beat, you frowned at his stubbornness, realising he wouldn't know when to stop unless sternly told off, "Are you out of your mind, Park Seonghwa? Such big movements could affect the wound, you idiot." You scolded, disrupting the intimate moment.

He blinked, momentarily speechless at the abrupt change in tone, protesting, "I'm fine, my wife—"

Before he could continue, the dressmaker barged in with raised brows, "Oh, we're all fine now, aren't we? I guess you're well enough to take a beating then."

The general panicked, hastily laying back in his spot, "Hongjoong, please, it's rude to enter without knocking." He chided.

You snickered when his friend rolled his eyes, "Well, it's also rude to disrespect your wife, but here we are."

"Oh my god, stop reminding me—"

"I'll stop when you learn to grow the hell up."

"Says you?!"

With a deep sigh, you stood up from your husband's bed, "You two fight to your heart's content; I'm going to prepare something to eat for this one." You said, gesturing to Seonghwa, ignoring his silent pleas not to leave him alone with his friend.

Hongjoong grinned at you, "Don't you worry, I'll take good care of him in the meantime."

Oh, I know you will.

"Have we heard from Physician Jung yet?" Mingi inquired as he was being suited up in preparation for the impending attack by the approaching Ruhon men.

"No, sir. It appears we're facing this battle on our own. But with your exceptional strategies, we should manage well even without General Park." One of the soldiers replied, striving to maintain optimism despite the military commander's absence.

"Let us hope so." The strategist muttered, unable to bring himself to reveal that his strategies had been devised with the assumption of having the best warrior in all of Joseon leading the army. Officer Song hadn't seen battlefield action since his promotion, and his combat skills were far from polished. Just why did this have to happen in the general's absence? Mingi feared the responsibility; if they failed in this battle, it would fall on him. The prospect of leading these men to their deaths was enough to make him feel nauseous.

He still couldn't grasp how Ruhon had made such a swift comeback. It seemed implausible given the significant losses they had suffered in the last battle. After all, the enemy nation wasn't known for its strategic prowess; they were often predictable in their actions. Unless... they were intentionally misleading Joseon into underestimating them? If so, the strategist might have played right into their hands as part of their plan.

Oh god, what do I do?

As General Officer Song meticulously went through his preparations for the impending battle, a sense of unease settled over him like a heavy cloak. Even with his efforts to focus solely on the task at hand, his thoughts kept drifting back to Seonghwa. The absence of their commander, his superior, and one of his closest friends weighed heavily on his mind.

With each passing moment, his worry for the general intensified. He couldn't shake the feeling of dread that enveloped him, wondering if his friend was safe and well. Had the older man managed to make it home? Had Yunho received his letter, informing him of General Park's condition?

These questions nagged endlessly at him, gnawing at his insides as he grappled with the uncertainty of the situation. Despite his attempts to maintain a facade of confidence for the sake of his fellow soldiers, Mingi couldn't shake the underlying fear that something terrible might have happened to Seonghwa. All he could do now was hope and pray for his friend's safety, even as the spectre of war loomed ever closer.

A sudden wave of fear washed over him, unlike anything he had experienced in a long time. The general's absence felt more profound and impactful than ever before. It was as if the very foundation of his confidence had been shaken, revealing the stark reality that his sense of assurance had always been rooted in the presence and trust of his commanding officer.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the strategist found himself questioning his own abilities and worthiness. Without General Park by his side, his confidence wavered, leaving him feeling unsteady and uncertain. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt such panic in war.

With a heavy heart, he squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, attempting to steady his nerves. Doing his best to ignore the doubts that plagued him, he knew he had a duty to fulfil. With trembling hands, he reviewed his strategies once more, desperately seeking reassurance in the plans he had meticulously crafted.

As he waited for the cue to head out and face the enemy, Officer Song resolved to push aside his fears and doubts. He may not have Seonghwa's guidance and leadership at this moment, but he knew he had to stand firm and lead the troops to the best of his abilities. With determination set in his heart, Mingi braced himself, ready to face whatever may come in the battle that awaited him.

Just as he was hoping to receive any updates about the general or word from Physician Jung, a soldier burst into the main tent, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. The strategist's heart skipped a beat, looking forward to some semblance of reassurance amid his mounting anxiety. However, instead of providing the updates he had been desperately seeking, the soldier stammered out his words.

"S-sir, I'm afraid it's time we head out and be on standby," The soldier managed to say between breaths, "The Ruhon army should be arriving anytime soon."

Mingi's hands clenched involuntarily, his mind racing with a mix of apprehension and determination. Despite the lack of information about Seonghwa's condition, he knew that duty called and he had to lead his troops into battle. With a firm nod, he suppressed the trembling in his hands and resolved to face the conflict head-on.

"Let's go out and make General Park proud." He declared, his voice steady despite the turmoil within him. With resolve burning in his eyes, he led his men out of the tent.

Moments later, Officer Song found himself mounted on a horse, the weight of his armour pressing against his shoulders as he surveyed the Joseon army lined up behind him. They stood at attention, ready for his orders, their anticipation palpable in the air.

As he gazed out at the empty land ahead, where the enemy forces would soon emerge, Mingi could hear nothing but the thundering of his own heart in his ears. His hands tightened around the hilt of his sword, a familiar weight that offered some measure of comfort in the face of uncertainty.

With a deep breath, he forced himself to focus, pushing aside the uncertainties that threatened to overwhelm him. He may not be Park Seonghwa, but he had undergone rigorous training and was a capable fighter in his own right. Reminding himself of his own combat skills, he squared his shoulders and steeled his resolve.

"We stand ready." He declared, his voice carrying across the ranks of soldiers behind him. Despite the nerves gnawing at his insides, he projected an air of confidence, determined to lead his troops with strength and determination.

I hope you're proud of me, hyung-nim.

His breath hitched in his throat as he finally spotted a tiny speck on the horizon, growing larger and more distinct with each passing moment. His heart raced as he realised that these were the enemy soldiers they had been waiting for. With a loud voice, he yelled the order for all soldiers to get into position.

Tensions were high as everyone readied themselves, their nerves stretched taut with fear at the absence of their strongest warrior to lead them. But as the figures drew closer, Officer Song's brow furrowed in confusion.

Something was not right.

Instead of a formidable army, only a few Ruhon soldiers were riding toward them, their arms raised in what appeared to be a gesture of surrender. Mingi's eyes widened in disbelief as he heard their cries.

"Soldiers of Joseon! Please don't attack! We have come to surrender!"

A sense of astonishment rippled through the ranks of the Joseon army as they processed the unexpected turn of events. One of the Ruhon men even went so far as to pull out a white flag, waving it frantically to signal their willingness to concede defeat.

The strategist's grip tightened on his sword as he studied the Ruhon soldiers before him, their faces worn with exhaustion and defeat. Despite their assurances, he couldn't afford to let his guard down yet, not after the treacherous tactics they had previously employed against Seonghwa.

"Hold it right there! How can we believe you're telling the truth?" He demanded, his voice firm and unwavering.

The Ruhon soldiers let out heavy sighs, their arms still raised in a gesture of surrender, "Please, we're telling the truth. Most of our troops have been depleted from the last battle," One of them explained, his voice tinged with desperation, "Our ruler has sent word just this morning to put this war to an immediate stop. A messenger is on the way to your royal palace to convey the message to your King as we speak. We come in peace to relay this message, and that is all. All remaining Ruhon troops will be retreating from our camp after this."

Mingi remained silent for a moment, weighing their words carefully. Finally, he lowered his sword, signalling for his own troops to stand down, "Very well," He said, his voice tinged with caution, "But know that we will be watching closely. Any sign of treachery from you, and we will not hesitate to defend ourselves."

The Ruhon soldiers visibly relaxed at his words, nodding quickly, "You have my word." One of them assured before they turned around and began riding away. The tension dissolved as they disappeared from sight, leaving Officer Song and his men standing in disbelief. Relief washed over them, dispelling the earlier fears. The strategist's expression mirrored the collective sentiment of his troops—a mix of relief and disbelief.

"Well, I guess we should head back to camp and await confirmation then," Mingi said, his voice filled with a hint of exhaustion. His soldiers nodded eagerly, grateful that the tense situation had been resolved peacefully. They began to disperse, their spirits lifted by the unexpected turn of events.

Now, everything fell into place, and the pieces of the puzzle aligned once again. His earlier suspicions about Ruhon's swift recruitment of soldiers now made perfect sense. It was clear that they no longer possessed enough manpower to continue fighting this war.

Returning to the main tent, Mingi was relieved to find a messenger waiting for him, "Officer Song, there you are! You have a letter from Physician Jung Yunho," The messenger announced eagerly. He hurried over to receive the paper, unfolding it with urgency. His eyes scanned the neatly written words at lightning speed, absorbing the contents. Once finished, he released the breath he had been holding, sinking into the seat behind him, "Oh, thank heavens the general is alright." He breathed out, a weight lifted from his shoulders.

The messenger's face immediately brightened at his words, and he quickly left to share the good news with the others. Mingi couldn't help but smile; everything was finally falling into place.

Peace, at last.

But his moment of relief was short-lived as a commotion erupted outside. The strategist frowned and left the tent to see what was happening. He found his soldiers blocking the entry of a woman, which puzzled him. Women weren't allowed in this area.

"Forgive us, ma'am. Women are not permitted here," One of the soldiers explained. Mingi pushed through to hear her response, "Yes, I know that, but you don't understand. I'm here on His Majesty's orders. We received word that General Park has been poisoned, and I've been sent specifically to treat him."

As he caught sight of her petite figure, his eyes widened in recognition. Not because of her uniform, which indicated she was a female royal physician, renowned for their medical expertise, but because she was the one he had been searching for all this time.

I finally found you, my one.

« Preview of Part 20 »

"The audacity of those Ruhon bastards, attempting to poison my strongest warrior. That's nothing short of treachery, isn't it, my Queen?" The King grumbled, his concern for Seonghwa evident in his furrowed brow. He had even dispatched their most skilled female royal physician to the war zone, trusting her to heal him.

Anxiety filled his being as his wife sighed beside him, offering a comforting hand on his back. She had yet to muster any courage to mention the trouble caused by their fourth son during the general's absence, not wanting to add to her husband's worries, "I wish I had an answer for that, Your Majesty." She murmured sympathetically.

Before the royal couple could further drown in their pool of misery, the royal secretary rushed in with a few letters. He hastily performed the formal bow, only to have the King wave it away.

"Forget the formalities, Secretary Choi! Tell us what updates you have this instant!" His Majesty's voice was urgent.

San nodded, swiftly unfolding the papers and reading each one aloud. With each letter, a weight seemed to lift from the room.

"The first letter is from General Park," He began, "He reports he's safely home and receiving treatment from his own doctor."

Relief washed over the King's face.

"And the second?" Her Majesty pressed, her tone hopeful.

San's voice steadied as he continued, "The second is from the ruler of Ruhon. He acknowledges defeat and officially surrenders. He is also requesting an audience to discuss a peace treaty. It would seem the war is over, Your Majesties."

"Oh, thank goodness it's over."

After a moment of everyone digesting the news, His Majesty furrowed his brows in slight confusion, "Wait, General Park is home already, you say?" His voice carried a note of incredulity, "How odd. That would mean he began travelling back before there was even news of the enemy's surrender. Why would he return home all of a sudden? Did something else happen?"

The Queen's heart sank at that. For weeks, she had harboured the hope of shielding Yeosang from his father's potential wrath, but now it seemed fate had other plans.

I'm sorry, my son.

Woohoo, only the final part is left, and we're done with the main story! Psst, try going over to the Spinoff Masterlist to see if you can spot anything new HEHE🙈

As always, thank you so much for reading, and please let me know your thoughts! <3

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[lizzyiii]

Pregnancy Scare

pairing | josh washington x fem!reader

word count | 4.9k words

summary | you are slowly pulling away from your boyfriend, Josh, frustrated because of this secret his keeping. Matters only get worse when you realize your period is late.

tags | angst, hurt/comfort, pregnancy scare, mentions of pregnancy, teenagers in love, fluff, mentions of mental illness, confessions, no description of reader

a/n | hey beautiful people, just wanted to say that these are extractions from my actual fanfic on A03, unfortunately it is Josh x OC, but if you guys are interested it's called Echoes Of Us

likes comments and reblogs are much appreciated ✨

MASTERLIST

Oh god, oh god, oh god.

Your mind was racing as you sat on the edge of your bed, staring at the calendar pinned to your wall. The little red circle marking the start of your period last month seemed to mock you now. It had been over a week—a week—and nothing.

Your chest tightened as you buried your face in your hands, letting out a shaky breath. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not like this.

You were eighteen—still figuring everything out, still planning your future. And now the universe had decided to throw you a curveball you weren't ready for.

To make matters worse, you hadn’t spoken to Josh in days. You had been dodging his texts, ignoring his calls, and making every excuse to avoid seeing him when he came back home for the weekend.

It was easier this way. The secrets he’d been keeping had created a wedge between the two of you, and it was suffocating you.

You didn’t know what was worse—the way he would dodge your questions with a charming smile or cheesy joke or the nagging feeling in your gut that he didn’t trust you enough to let you all the way in.

And now? Now, you might be pregnant. Pregnant, for god’s sake. You let out a bitter laugh at the thought. "Eighteen and pregnant. That’ll look great on my college applications."

Your gaze drifted toward your phone on the nightstand. Josh’s name was still at the top of your unread messages. The last one from him was from this morning:

Sun, May 20, 2012,

10:47 AM

Josh: Baby, I’m sorry. Can you just talk to me?

11:19 AM

Josh: Please?

Your stomach churned. The thought of talking to him made you want to scream and cry all at once. What would you even say? That you were furious with him for keeping things from you?

That you weren't sure you could trust him? Or maybe you'd lead with the bombshell that you might be carrying his baby?

Your fingers trembled as you grabbed the unopened pregnancy test from your bag, your heart pounding in your chest. You had driven two towns over to buy it, far enough from Santa Monica that no one you knew could catch you.

Even then, you hadn’t been able to meet the cashier’s eyes as they scanned the box and handed it over.

Now it sat in your hands, small and unassuming, but it felt heavier than anything you'd ever held. A deep groan escaped you as you shoved the box under your pillow, as though hiding it would make it less real. Flopping back onto your bed, you grabbed your phone, hoping for a distraction.

Big mistake.

Your chest tightened as you scrolled through your notifications. A string of unread messages from Josh stared back at you, a silent accusation.

You locked your phone without responding, holding it to your chest. The guilt gnawed at you. Avoiding Josh was one thing, but there were also unread messages from Beth. That was worse. So much worse.

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening. Beth didn’t deserve this. She'd always been the supportive one, the steady one. Ignoring her felt like betraying your friendship.

But how could you face Beth right now? The thought of seeing her filled you with dread. Beth had this uncanny ability to read you like a book—she’d take one look at you and know something was wrong.

You could already picture the concerned tilt of Beth’s head, the gentle but insistent questions, the way she’d push until you cracked.

And then, before you could stop yourself, the words would come spilling out, “Hey, B, guess what? You’re going to be an aunt.”

Just imagining it made your stomach twist into knots. You couldn’t handle that conversation—not with Josh, not with Beth, not with anyone.

The spiral was already beginning, your thoughts circling darker and darker, and you clutched your pillow tightly against your chest as though the pressure might keep you from completely unraveling.

Your breaths were shallow, and you were dangerously close to a full-blown breakdown when the soft buzz of your phone snapped you out of it.

You froze, your heart jumping into your throat. Tentatively, you picked up the phone, half-dreading yet another message from Josh or Beth.

But when you glanced at the screen, you let out a shaky sigh of relief. It wasn’t them.

It was Em.

13:05 PM

Emily: Shopping later?

You stared at the text for a moment, your thumb hovering over the keyboard. Emily’s bluntness was weirdly comforting—it was one of the few things you could count on to stay consistent. You really could use a distraction, something to pull you out of your own head.

13:06 PM

You: Barney's in an hour?

It didn’t take long for Emily to reply.

13:07 PM

Emily: See you there, bitch.

You couldn’t help the faint smile tugging at your lips. For now, you could put everything aside—the unopened test, the missed calls, the terrifying what-ifs—and focus on something mindless.

You tossed your pillow aside, grabbed your purse, and headed out the door. Shopping with Emily wouldn’t fix your problems, but it might give you just enough strength to face them.

“Y’know, I’m surprised Jess isn’t here,” You murmured as you scanned the racks of dresses, running your fingers over the fabric, your thoughts far from the clothes in front of you.

Emily stood beside you, meticulously inspecting each hanger with the precision of someone on a mission.

"Don't get me wrong, I love Jess," Emily replied, her voice casual as she shifted a dress aside. "She’s my best friend, but sometimes… I don’t know. She doesn’t really give the best advice and doesn’t always get... certain things."

You turned to glance at Emily, raising an eyebrow, a small smirk playing on your lips. “Are you calling her dumb, Em?”

Emily laughed softly, shaking her head. "I’m not! Don’t twist my words like that."

But then her laughter faded, her gaze lingering on a dress she wasn’t really looking at. Her lips pursed, and she hesitated before adding, “It’s just… I’ve been having some problems with Mike.”

At the mention of Mike, you let out an audible sigh, unable to hide your disdain.

Emily shot you a sharp side-eye. "What was that sigh for?"

You shrugged, toying absentmindedly with a strand of your hair. “You know I don’t like him.”

"I’ll never understand why," Emily replied with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. She pulled a dress from the rack but didn’t even look at it before putting it back. Her tone softened as she admitted, "But… there’s something else."

You frowned, turning your full attention to Emily. "What is it, Em?"

Emily hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with a price tag. “I haven’t slept with him yet,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant but failing to hide the tension in her voice.

Your eyebrows shot up to your hairline, your surprise evident. Emily noticed and immediately scoffed. "Why the hell are you looking at me like that?"

"I’m not shocked," You said quickly, though your tone betrayed your curiosity. "It’s just… you two have been together for, like, a year."

Emily sighed, crossing her arms defensively. “Yeah, and? Relationships aren’t all about that, you know.”

“I didn’t say they were,” You replied, your voice gentler now. You leaned slightly against the rack, studying Emily’s expression. "But if it’s bothering you, why haven’t you told him?"

Emily hesitated, her shoulders slumping slightly. "It’s not that easy. Mike’s… Mike. He can be so pushy sometimes, and I just—ugh, I don’t know."

You tilted your head, your tone blunt but kind. “If he’s making you feel pressured, that’s not okay, Em. You don’t owe him anything just because you’ve been together a while.”

Emily glanced at you, her guarded expression softening. “It’s not just him. It’s me, too. I guess I feel… guilty? Like I should be ready by now, but I’m just… not.”

You reached out, placing a hand on Emily’s shoulder. "Then that’s his problem, not yours. If Mike really cares about you—and I mean really—he’ll wait. No questions asked."

Emily nodded slowly, exhaling a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. “Thanks, babe.”

"Anytime," you replied with a small smile. Then you added, unable to resist, “But just for the record, I still think you could do better.”

Emily rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the grin tugging at her lips. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, but you love me anyway,” You quipped, a teasing grin on your face as you pulled another dress off the rack. For a moment, the air lightened between you.

But as your eyes wandered, something stopped you cold—the maternity section.

Your heart skipped a beat as your feet carried you there almost instinctively. You reached for a dress, a soft, pink summery thing with a flowy cut.

It was adorable and obviously meant for someone who was heavily pregnant. You stared at it, your mind spiraling. You could almost see yourself in it, your stomach round and heavy with life.

“What the hell are you doing?” Emily’s voice cut through the moment like a knife, startling you.

You jumped, the dress slipping from your hands. You shoved it hastily back onto the rack. “Nothing, Em,” you said, too quickly.

Emily raised a skeptical brow, her sharp eyes darting from you to the maternity section. A slow smirk tugged at her lips. “What, you pregnant or something?” she teased lightly.

You let out a forced laugh, waving your hand dismissively. “What the fuck? No.”

But Emily wasn’t buying it. Her playful expression gave way to something more calculating as she studied you closely. She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Wait... are you?”

“No, Em,” you said, too fast again, your voice dropping to a shaky murmur. You hesitated, then added, “My period’s just late, that’s all.”

Emily’s eyes widened, the gravity of the situation sinking in. “Oh my god,” she whispered, the teasing gone from her tone entirely.

“It’s nothing, Emily,” you snapped, your voice firm but not convincing. “I swear. Don’t make a big deal about it, okay?”

Emily nodded, her lips pursed like she wasn’t entirely convinced. Then, with a glance at you, she reached out and plucked the pink dress from the rack.

She held it up, studying it for a moment before saying, “If you are, you know you can’t keep it, right?”

You froze, your stomach dropping like a stone. “Why?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Emily shrugged, her tone casual, almost flippant. “Because we’d be terrible moms.”

You frowned, your chest tightening. “Why would I be a terrible mom?” you asked, trying to sound indifferent but failing miserably.

“Don’t take it personally, Hon,” Emily replied with a nonchalant wave of her hand. “It’s just… we all turn into our parents eventually, right? And I mean, as soon as Junior you hits puberty, Senior you becomes a bitter bitch. It’s just how it goes.”

Your jaw clenched as you looked away, your gaze landing on the dress again. Emily’s words were meant to be casual, maybe even a joke, but they stung.

You swallowed hard, willing yourself not to cry. Somehow, your already bad day had just gotten worse.

You sat on the edge of your bed, staring down at the pregnancy test in your trembling hands. Your eyes were fixed on the single, unbroken line in the tiny window.

Not pregnant.

You should’ve felt relief. You wanted to feel relief. But all that settled in your chest was a heavy, hollow ache. Emily’s words echoed in your mind like a cruel mantra: We’d be terrible moms.

A lump formed in your throat as your grip tightened on the plastic stick. No, you thought fiercely. I wouldn’t be like that. You'd try. You'd try so damn hard to make your baby happy, to protect them from everything. You'd do better. You could do better.

But none of that mattered now. You weren't pregnant.

Distantly, you heard the doorbell ring, followed by your mother’s sharp, impatient voice cutting through the quiet of the house. “Get the door!”

You exhaled shakily, breaking out of your thoughts. You tossed the test into the trash with more force than necessary, the hollow clink of plastic against metal strangely satisfying.

With a sigh, you got to your feet and headed for the door, leaving the hollow ache behind—or at least trying to.

You froze when you opened the door, your heart leaping into your throat as you stared at Josh’s face. His green eyes, wide and pleading, met yours, and for a moment, all you could hear was the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.

Josh cleared his throat, looking a little sheepish as he murmured, “Can I come in?”

You didn’t trust your voice, so you just nodded and stepped aside, letting him cross the threshold. He slipped inside, shutting the door softly behind them.

“Thanks,” he said quietly, before reaching out and thrusting a bouquet of pink peonies into your hands. “These are for you.”

You blinked, surprised by the gesture. The delicate flowers felt out of place in your clammy grip, and all you could manage was a quiet, “Thanks.” You set the bouquet on a nearby table, your movements awkward and uncertain.

Josh stuffed his hands into his jean pockets, his shoulders hunched slightly as he asked, “Can we talk?”

You nodded, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah. Just... let’s go to my room. My mom’s in one of her moods.”

Josh followed you down the hall, his footsteps slow and tentative. Once inside your room, he closed the door softly, his gaze roaming the familiar space.

The walls were decorated with photos of all of you together—laughing at the beach, posing at school events, arms slung around each other.

Your bed was piled high with stuffed animals, and posters of The Cranberries and ABBA lined the walls. It hadn’t changed since the last time he’d been here, but it felt like a lifetime ago.

Josh took a deep breath, running a hand through his messy hair as he perched on the edge of your bed. His knee bounced nervously, the movement betraying the calm he was trying to project. “So... I’m sure you’re wondering why I came here.”

You stood stiffly near your vanity, arms crossed tightly over your chest. Your gaze was guarded, your tone biting as you replied, “No, not really. I’m just hoping for an explanation—any explanation, really.”

Josh winced at your words but managed a dry chuckle. “Yeah, I figured as much.”

He looked up at you, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small, self-deprecating smile, “I know I’ve been a really shitty boyfriend. And I’m so sorry for all the crappy things I’ve done. But... I don’t want to lose you, baby. I really don’t.”

You leaned against your vanity, your fingers gripping the edge as though it could steady you. Your voice softened slightly, but the edge of frustration still lingered. “But that’s not the truth, Josh.”

He looked away, guilt flickering across his face. Of course, you'd call him out. There was no way he’d get off that easily. “Yeah...” he murmured, his voice low. “That’s what I need to explain.”

Your silence was heavy, expectant.

Josh sighed, his hands rubbing over his jeans as if to release the tension coiling inside him. “I was hoping you’d just... I don’t know... kinda understand without me having to say it out loud.” He shook his head, a sad smile flickering briefly before fading. “But that’s not fair to you.”

He paused, his throat tightening as he tried to find the words. “I love you, baby. I don’t know how else to say it. I love you so much it scares the hell out of me sometimes."

Your voice cracked as tears welled in your eyes. “How about showing it, Josh?” you said, your words trembling. “I’m not trying to push you away—I’m holding on for dear life—but I need you to need me back.”

The sight of you breaking made Josh’s heart twist painfully. He stood, his movements slow and deliberate, before wrapping his arms tightly around you.

“Hey, hey,” he murmured, his voice soft and pleading.

“Don’t cry, baby. Please don’t cry. I promise you—I do need you.” He pressed his lips to your hair, holding you like you might disappear.

You sobbed against his chest, your hands pushing weakly against him as you choked out, “Then why won’t you just tell me? Why do you need the medication? Where do you go when you disappear? Why won’t you let me all the way in?!”

Your words cut deeper than any knife, and Josh felt his resolve crumbling. He hated this—the way he was hurting you, the way his silence was tearing the two of you apart. He tightened his grip on you as though that alone could keep you two from unraveling completely.

“Baby…” He trailed off, his voice heavy with guilt. He couldn’t bring himself to meet your eyes. How could he tell you?

How could he say the words he’d been terrified to utter? But lying—or saying nothing—would only hurt you more.

He took another shaky breath, his throat tightening as he finally said it. “Because I’m sick. Okay?”

You pulled back slightly, your brows furrowing in confusion. “What do you mean... sick?”

Josh’s hands tightened slightly on your waist as he closed his eyes, his voice barely above a whisper. “I-I have schizophrenia. I was diagnosed when I was twelve.”

His words hung in the air, heavy and raw. He couldn’t bear to look at you, couldn’t face the possibility of seeing disgust—or worse, pity—in your eyes.

“What?” your voice was small, almost inaudible, as you stared up at him, your tears momentarily forgotten.

Josh finally forced himself to look at you, his green eyes wide with vulnerability. “I didn’t want you to know because... because I was scared. Scared of how you’d see me. Scared of losing you.”

His voice cracked, and he ran a hand through his hair. “I hear things that aren’t there. I see things. I have these thoughts I can’t control, and... I didn’t want you to think I was crazy.”

Your heart sank as the weight of his confession settled over you. You reached up, cupping his face with trembling hands. “Josh,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the tears slipping down your cheeks. “You’re not crazy. You’re... you’re Josh.”

His furrowed his brows, and for a moment, he looked as though he couldn’t believe your words. “You don’t... you don’t think I’m broken?”

You shook your head firmly, your trembling hands still cradling his face. “You’re not broken, Josh. You’re human. And if you’re scared, let me be scared with you. I want to be here for you. But you have to let me.”

Josh’s throat tightened as he pulled you into his arms, holding you against his chest like you were his lifeline. He buried his face in your hair, his voice barely a whisper. “You still love me,” he murmured, attempting to lighten the heavy moment.

You scoffed, your voice muffled against his shirt. “Of course, I still love you, you idiot.”

Josh let out a quiet laugh, the sound soft and relieved. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands sliding up to cup your cheeks.

Gently, he brushed away the tears still clinging to your skin with his thumbs. “I know, I know—I’m an idiot. Just... stop crying, okay? It’s killing me.”

You let out a thick chuckle, sniffing as you wiped at your face with the back of your hand. “Fine, but you owe me a whole box of chocolates for this.”

“Deal,” Josh said, his lips quirking into a small, crooked smile. His hands slipped to your waist, anchoring you as though he was scared to let go.

You stepped back slightly, giving him a sheepish look. “Wanna stay for a movie? Something light, maybe?”

Josh smirked, tilting his head as though considering your suggestion. “Only if it’s horror.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly. “You call that light? Fine, but if I scream, you’re paying for my therapy.”

“Deal,” Josh said again, his voice warm and playful now.

“Alright,” you said, gesturing toward the bed. “Pick something while I go freshen up. And no weird indie stuff this time, I mean it.”

Josh raised his hands in mock surrender, a light grin tugging at his lips. “Scout’s honor. But no rom-coms either—I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

As you disappeared into the bathroom, Josh sat on the edge of your bed, trying to collect his thoughts. But something caught his eye, and his heart skipped a beat.

A small object was sticking out of the trash can beside your desk. His hand reached out almost instinctively, and his fingers closed around a small white stick—a pregnancy test.

Josh’s pulse quickened as he stared at it, feeling a knot form in his stomach. A small part of him prayed it would be negative, that the whole situation would be a misunderstanding, something you two could laugh off later.

The air around him suddenly felt thick, suffocating. A tidal wave of emotions crashed over him: happiness, fear, panic, and confusion.

He sat there, frozen for a moment, staring at the test in his hand as if it were some sort of cruel joke. Was he really about to become a father? At nineteen? Was he ready for this?

The sound of your voice broke through his haze, pulling him back to reality. “Josh?”

He looked up, his face pale, still holding the test between his fingers. The words felt heavy on his tongue, but they spilled out anyway.

“You’re… pregnant,” he said quietly, his gaze still locked on you as if the reality of it hadn’t fully hit him yet.

Your eyes flicked down to the test in his hand, and you let out a deep, small sigh. “Josh, it’s one line. That means negative,” you said, walking closer to him.

Josh’s heart thudded in his chest, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. He glanced down at the test again, now noticing how the faintest second line appeared to be nothing more than a shadow.

Josh swallowed hard, the embarrassment still fresh as he asked again, “It’s negative?”

You nodded softly, your shoulders slumping with a mixture of relief and lingering unease. “Yeah, it’s negative,” you murmured before sitting down beside him, your hands clasped tightly in her lap. “My period was late, and I just… I was so scared, Josh. I didn’t know what to do.”

He nodded slowly, letting out a breath as he placed the test back in the trashcan. “Well… it’s a good thing it’s negative, right?” His voice was light, almost hesitant, as if trying to gauge how you felt.

You didn’t respond right away. Your gaze was distant, fixed on the trashcan. “I told Emily,” you said quietly, her voice carrying a hint of sadness.

Josh frowned, his concern deepening. “What did she say?” he asked gently, noticing how your mood had darkened, your shoulders tightening.

Your lips trembled as you tried to keep your composure. “She said… she said I shouldn’t keep it if I was pregnant. That I’d make a terrible mom,” you said, your voice breaking slightly as you blinked back tears.

Josh’s eyes widened in disbelief, a flash of anger rising in his chest. “Why the hell would she say that?”

He shook his head, his expression softening as he turned towards you. “That’s such a shitty thing to say. Baby, you’d be an awesome mom someday.”

You shook your head, your pout deepening as you murmured, “She said we all turn out like our parents. And if I had a baby, I’d just end up like my mom… a bitter bitch.” Your voice cracked slightly, and you leaned your head against his shoulder for support.

Josh let out a soft sigh, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer so you were nestled against his chest. “That’s total bullshit. You're not a bitch, and you could never be one either. You have the biggest heart I know, and— and any kid would be lucky to have you as their mom.” he said firmly, rubbing your back in soothing circles.

You glanced up at him, your wide eyes shining with both doubt and hope. “Do you… do you want babies?” you asked softly, your voice laced with hesitation.

Josh blinked, the question catching him off guard. He leaned back slightly, thinking it over. “I… yeah, I think I do,” he admitted after a moment, his tone gentle but honest.

“It’s scary to think about, you know? But yeah… I’d really like that someday.” He smiled down at you, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

You felt your heart skip a beat at his words. You bit your lip before asking hesitantly, “With me?”

Josh let out a soft laugh, cupping your cheek as he tilted your face up to meet his gaze. “Of course with you, silly. Who else would I want that with? You’re the only person I can imagine having a family with.”

A small, genuine smile broke across your face, warmth spreading through your chest. You tilted your head up slowly, your heart pounding as you closed the distance between the two of you.

Your lips met in a gentle, lingering kiss, the kind that made you feel like the world had melted away.

When you finally pulled apart, Josh rested his forehead against yours, his hands cradling your face. “See? You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

You let out a small, watery laugh, your fingers brushing away a stray tear. “You’re really good at this pep talk thing, you know, Mr Washington?”

“Hey, someone’s gotta be, Mrs Washington,” he teased with a grin, pulling you closer.

For the first time in a few months, you felt lighter, as though the storm clouds in your mind had started to part.

You didn’t know what the future held, but as long as Josh was by your side, you knew you could face anything.

[thewordfortheday]

It is a great virtue to overlook an offense. Proverbs 19:11

The honorable thing to do in a situation where you have been hurt or insulted is, to refuse to become offended. You may say, "How can I not take offense when I have been spoken to rudely?" 

Jesus showed us the way. He forgave those who insulted Him and spat on Him. The reason taking offense is displeasing to God is that it's destructive to relationships. It divides people and causes conflict. It can break up families, friendships, and even churches. It's one of Satan's most valuable weapons against God's kingdom. I know it is impossible in your own strength, but with God's grace and strength you can.

Pray: Father God, Help me to overlook offenses, and forgive those who have hurt us. I need Your strength, Lord. Thank You Jesus for being our example and showing us the way. For Christ's sake. Amen 

[cmdrfupa]

What's My Age Again?

I can't allow his birthday to pass and post nothing. Happy Birthday to our husband, Toeji <3

Fluff, crack, suggestive but we are tame today!

“Birthday plans? You bent over the counter, ass covered in caramel and sprinkles.”

“For fucks sake, Fushiguro. Its Sunday.”

Toji smiled and kissed your cheek before rolling on top of you. “Even better. When you say ‘Oh God’, it won’t be in vain.” His hand traveled down to your waist as the rough pads of his fingers delicately traced your skin.

You laughed and it felt like heaven showed itself to him as your eyes closed and disappeared with every chuckle that left your lips. Your husbands birthday was coming up. What you thought was to be a special one. And it was only appropriate that you attempt to give him a sweet party with his favorite foods and favorite people.

“Baby. Be serious. Its a big deal. You’re turning 40. We’ve gotta do something to celebrate that.”

Raising his eyebrow and moving to sit up on his elbow, he mischievously smiled. “Babydoll, who told you I was turning 40?”

“Uhh well, Shiu told me that yo-”

“Shiu is playing with you and I am more so amazed that you don’t know how old I am without askin.”

Confused and honestly a little a perturbed, you sat yourself up, gathering the sheet to cover your bare chest. “Okay, lets be clear here. I asked Shiu 6 years ago at that party he had for his wife how old you were because you were being all elusive and shit about it.”

“And he told you 34?”

“Yes. he told me you were 34.”

“Sweet pea. I’ve got a 19 year old. That would’ve made me a teen dad.”

Even more confused now, you furrowed your brow. “No offense Fushiguro but if you were getting around the way you were in your 30s, I-”

The scar over his lip rose and he squinted “I’m going to pretend like you weren’t going to say that.”

Your giggle was almost immediately muffled by his attack of kisses. “You’ve got the hottest dilf this side of the Meguro river. That’s all that matters.” He spoke into your neck and wrapped his arms around you.

“I suppose so. But I want to have a little party for you. Something more than just a cake, a vacation and me bent over whatever surface you request for that year.”

“You’re saying this like it isn’t the best gift every single time.” Toji laid his head on your chest, kneading and almost settling into your bosom like a cat. “And every year we go through this where I sat its not a big deal and you say-”

“But it is a big deal!” you both spoke in unison as Toji raised the pitch oh his voice to tease you. You thumped his forehead and he squeezed you with a grin.

You could leave it alone. Let ignorance be the blissful heaven it was meant to be and pretend to be okay with not knowing his age.

Or you could let that nosey trait do its job and find the truth.

“You’re right. You can be 75 and I’ll still want to slide down your chest.” you winked and wrapped your legs around his waist pulling him closer.

“Atta girl.”

__--------------

The air in Shiu Kong’s office carried a faint whiff of leather and expensive cologne. It was the kind of place that screamed, “Don’t bother me unless someone’s dead.” You had only been here a handful of times, one to drag Toji’s ass out by his collar when he was attempting to get back into the business and the other when needing to drag Shiu’s ass out because his wife couldn’t find him. But today was different—you were here on a mission.

Shiu looked up from his desk as you entered, his eyebrow arching in mild surprise. “Well, well, if it isn’t my preferred half to Toji. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I need your help,” you said, plopping into the chair on the other side of his desk. “And by help, I mean information.”

Shiu smirked, leaning back in his chair. “Let me guess—Toji’s in trouble again? Or did he finally admit he lost that bet to me?”

“We’ll circle back to this betting nonsense,” you replied, folding your arms. “But I want to know how old he is.”

Shiu froze for a beat, then burst out laughing—a deep, throaty chuckle that made you regret walking through his door.

“I’m serious!” you insisted, leaning forward. “You gave me some dumb answer a few years back and you know him. He keeps dodging the question, and I know you know the answer.”

“Of course I do,” Shiu said, still grinning. “But what makes you think I’m going to tell you? This is gold. Why would I ruin the fun?”

“Because I’m desperate,” you admitted with a sigh. “He’s been deflecting all week—kissing me, telling me shit about our upcoming trip, changing the subject, the usual. I can’t let him win.”

Shiu tapped his chin thoughtfully, the smirk never leaving his face. “Alright, I’ll bite. What’s in it for me?”

You narrowed your eyes. “The satisfaction of knowing you’ve driven me one step closer to sanity?”

“Tempting, but no.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “Here’s the deal: I’ll give you a hint. Just one. But the rest? You’re on your own. And I want a pot of budae jjigae.”

“Fine,” you said, gripping the armrests of your chair. “It’s a deal. What’s the hint?”

Shiu grinned wider, clearly enjoying himself. “Let’s just say… Toji’s age is as elusive as his sense of responsibility. But if you really want to know, hes got this old duffel bag he’s had since I’ve known him.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You hadn’t even considered that.

“Wait, you’re serious?”

“Dead serious.” He leaned back, lacing his fingers behind his head. “That things like a treasure trove wherever he has it now. But I’ll warn you—whatever you find, you didn’t hear it from me.”

“Got it.” you said, standing up. “Thanks, Shiu. I’ll have your stew by the end of the week if this is at all helpful.”

“I like it spicy. And extra spam. Don’t forget!”

“You both eat like teenagers. No wonder your lady likes when we have potluck nights.”

Shiu shook his head, his laughter following you out of the office.

­---------

Back at home, the closet was a mess. Toji’s version of “organized” could only be described as controlled chaos, with jackets tossed over boxes, stray weapons stashed in shoe racks and decade old pants flung on random shelves. You stood in the middle of it all, hands on your hips, staring at the heap of items you’d pulled out in your search for the infamous duffel bag.

“This man,” you muttered under your breath, tossing a rolled-up hoodie to the side. “How can he be so good at avoiding questions but so bad at cleaning?”

After moving a pile of shirts that hadn’t seen daylight in years you were sure, you finally spotted it—an old, worn duffel bag shoved into the back corner. Its faded black fabric looked like it had seen better days, and the zipper was barely holding on.

“There you are,” you whispered triumphantly, dragging it out and sitting in the center of the closet.

As you observed the bag to see where to start, something slipped out from the side pocket—a small stack of photographs, edges slightly bent with age. You picked them up, curious, and settled onto the floor to take a closer look.

The first photo caught you off guard. It was a black-and-white image of a young boy, maybe five or six, standing stiffly in front of a grand but cold-looking building. The Zenin compound, you realized. His clothes were neat but clearly hand-me-downs, and there was a wary look in his dark eyes, as if he didn’t trust the person behind the camera. Next to him stood another boy maybe a few years older and an older gentleman clearly smiling with a hint of inebriation under his cheeky grin.

Your chest tightened. He’s told you about most of his chidlhood. From bits and pieces about his mother to the rougher experiences living with power hungry nut jobs. You knew enough to know it hadn’t been easy. But seeing it—this quiet, vulnerable moment frozen in time—hit differently.

You flipped to the next photo. This one was brighter, taken outdoors. Toji looked a little older, maybe eight or nine, holding a wooden practice sword. He stood in a training yard, surrounded by other kids who all looked sharp and polished. Toji, on the other hand, now had the cut on his mouth and dirt smudged on his shirt. But what struck you was the determination in his expression—like he was daring the world to knock him down again.

“Oh, Toji,” you murmured, your fingers brushing over the edge of the photo.

The next image was the one that stopped you in your tracks.

It was Toji as a young adult, maybe twenty, twenty-one. He was sitting on a low wall, the setting sun casting warm light over his face. And he was smiling—not the smug, cocky grin you were used to, but a real, genuine smile. His hair was messy, and his posture was relaxed, almost carefree. For a moment, it felt like you were seeing a version of him untouched by the weight of the world.

Your heart swelled. You couldn’t help but smile back, as if the photo was alive and he could see you.

“What are you doing, snooping around?”

The sudden voice startled you, and you almost dropped the photos. Spinning around, you found Toji leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and an amused smirk playing on his lips.

“I, uh…” You scrambled for an excuse, but your words died as you held up the picture of young Toji. “Is this you?”

His smirk faltered. For a moment, his expression softened as his gaze flicked to the photo in your hand. “Yeah. That was a long time ago.”

“You look… happy,” you said softly.

He didn’t respond right away, stepping into the room and crouching beside you. He plucked the photo from your hand, his thumb brushing over the surface as if remembering the moment it was taken.

“I guess I was, for a little while,” he said quietly. “The compound was quiet as my father had left to tend to business which meant my cousin was off being a nightmare in someone else’s life for a few hours. I’d say I was feeling pretty good.”

You didn’t push him for more. Instead, you reached out and placed a hand on his arm, giving him a gentle squeeze. “You deserved more of that.”

Toji glanced at you, his smirk returning—but this time, it was gentler, less guarded. “You getting all sentimental on me now?”

“Maybe,” you teased, nudging him with your shoulder.

Toji placed the photo back onto the stack, his hand lingering as if reluctant to let it go. “Y’know,” he began, his voice quieter now, “I don’t keep these around to get all nostalgic. Just… sometimes it’s good to remember where you came from, even if it wasn’t great.”

You nodded, sensing the gravity in his words. “Makes sense. But seeing these, seeing you… it’s a reminder that you’ve come so far.”

Toji snorted lightly. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t go writing me a Hallmark card now.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Fine, no sappy speeches. But I mean it. You’ve been through so much, and you’re still here, still fighting. That says something.”

He gave you a sideways glance, a flicker of vulnerability passing through his eyes before he masked it with his usual smirk. “Guess I have my reasons for sticking around,” he said, his gaze lingering on you just a little too long.

Your cheeks warmed, but you weren’t about to let him derail the moment. “Speaking of sticking around,” you said, leaning in with a conspiratorial grin, “are you ever going to tell me how long you’ve been around? Y’know, your age?”

Toji smiled and went from a squat to sitting next to you. “You really don’t let up, do you? You really wanna know my age?”

“I’d sell a kidney ro know.”

He leaned back, groaning dramatically. “I mean, if you’re serious, I know a guy who would give you a great deal for one.”

You lighlty punched his arm before leaning your head onto him.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Alright, fine. But don’t go telling everyone, got it?”

“Swear on my life,” you said, clasping your hands together in mock solemnity.

Toji shook his head, leaning in closer. His lips brushed against your ear as he whispered his age, his voice low and deliberate.

Your eyes widened as you pulled back to look at him. “Wait, really?!”

He shrugged, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Told you it wasn’t that interesting.”

“Not interesting? Baby, you basically just told me a state secret,” you said, still processing the number. “You’re not getting away with that so easily. We’re revisiting this conversation later.”

“Sure, sure,” he said, standing up and ruffling your hair as if to dismiss the subject entirely. “Now, c’mon. If you’re done snooping, I’m starving.”

You huffed, but couldn’t help smiling as he headed toward the kitchen. “This isn’t over, Toji!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he called over his shoulder, his tone teasing but light. “Keep dreaming.”

You couldn’t help but think about that smile in the picture—the one you’d just seen mirrored, if only for a moment.

“Wait for me old man! I don’t want your hip to slip or you forget where the onions are!.” You yelled as you made your way out of the bedroom!”

“When I have you asking me to stop, I’m going to show you whose old, sweet pea.”

You couldn’t help but think about that smile in the picture—the one you’d just seen mirrored, if only for a moment. “i’ll have you begging for a life alert, big boy.”

Your man. Your baby. You Toji.

(I’m saying he’s 45 currently, final answer huehuehue)

[rororonyan]

headshots only rn because thinking about a FULL outfit is a way bigger headache

And random facts i'm noting down

Hans/ the nutracker prince / the nutcracker (russian adapted ballet +/ german book)

The nutcracker's name in the book is Hans allegedly. But for variety's sake (and because i'm more familiar with the ballet and always assumed it was a russian story) this guy is russian and is named Ivan. I could not give you his age on account of being a wooden doll but he's physically around 27

He has a blank and expressionless face but he's very easily flustered and very reactive inside.

He has a lot of penguin babies friends and they love him very very much thank you.

Gets along with Pinnochio on account of them both being living doll-adjacent

His eyes are snowflakes and i think that's precious, also they expand and 'freeze' more of his eyes when he's happy

He insists on wearing gloves to hold people's hands or touch them because he's always freezing cold

Pinnochio / Carlo / the adventures of pinnochio (italian book)

Nothing much to say on the name, but did you know he's named Pinnochio because he's made out of Pine wood? He's pretty short, but in this ver Carlo and thus Pinnochio died at age 19 or so, so he is 19.

Lies of P has done irreparable damage to my perception of Pinnochio and it shows in this design i fear.

He's a shy little man, he works as an assistant in his father's workshop, so while i kept the bright fun palette from the known adaptation i kept it to more leathery and working clothes. I might change the cravatte for a bow but the blue clip will stay, it's a source of life or something, blue fairy lore i need to think on. It's also why his eyes are blue.

The little prince / Le petit prince (french book)

He is never given a name in the story and even exclusively reffered to as the little prince. So at this point i'm inclined to believe his officia name iss The (first name) little (middle name) prince (last name)...... anyhow it feels sacrilegious to give him a name for some reason, but if i do name him he's being named Estelle. His age is as mysterious as him. But he's pretty tall, looks around 22

His freckles glow like stars and his hair glimmers like there's glitter dusted on it or stardust

I feel like his design is just too much like the book so i might have more fun with it

I think he's whimsical and playful, he has a penchant for theatrics and games in that childish sense, but he also comes across as very nurturing and mature. He likes to joke that he can use magic- but like.. can he? Or is it just an alien kinda deal.

Momotaro/ Peach boy (japanese children's folk tale)

Momotaro, i'm not changing it, it's adorable. He's 23 or so

Plant adjacent? He sometimes sprouts leaves and little flower buds in his hair.

Very serious, shouldn't be taken seriously. He's not a tsundere type he's just very bad at sounding and looking happy, and while he talks a big game most people don't take it seriously on account of him being short. He always looks pissed but he just has a real bad case of resting bitch face i think.

Oscar Zoroaster Phadrig Isaac Norman Henkle Emmanuel Ambroise Diggs / O.Z / The wizard of oz (american book)

The name stays because i cannot top this name even if i tried. It's iconic. He is the moment. He's 36.

His earrings are an explicit reference to Howl from Howl's moving castle.

He has grey hairs in there but he will deny that.

The worst man you will ever meet (but like he looks so hot doing it though.) he has the vibes of a conductor or a state fair magician, which is why he's so good at pulling his whole act, and he's so charismatic he needs to be put down. He is full of lies and deceit. I want to kiss him so bad.

Snow white / Snow white (german book)

First name Snow last name white oh my god their parent could not have been THAT much better than the evil queen for giving that name.... Schnee sounds cute tho so it's staying. He's 18, and very holdable.

The flowers on his head are the blooms on apple trees, his hair is in the vague shape of an apple.

Malewife, he's very softspoken and likes to do chores because it's uncomplicated. He also has a REALLY low attention span, the type to follow a butterfly off a cliff. He's airheaded and silly and tends to get sleepy easily because he's always doing chores around the clock.

Alice / Alice's adventures in wonderland (british book)

I'm on the fence on wether i should keep him named Alice or name him Alex.

Tbh i don't think he went to wonderland dude was just SOOOO high. That or he has severe mental issues. Either way something isn't right. He likes to write a lot, the alice in wonderland thing is a self insert he wrote. He Iikes to babble about the stories in his head a lot. He's a lucid dreamer sot there's probably that in there. He is always sleeping, he prefers it to being awake and in reality. In reality his clothing style is a lot more bland than how i drew it (i drew his wonderland outfit, it might change tbh)

Mermaid / the little mermaid (danish book)

The mermaid is never given a name in the original, so it should say '???' Like the little prince's, i just wanted to note down my name for him. It's Finn, because it's a danish name and i have poor sense of humor. Naming a mermaid Finn.

Tbh i might change this one out i feel like there's less stuff to do with little mermaid and i'm generally less inspired

I heard somewhere the little mermaid was actually a gay story but i have no recollection of proof. But i'll believe it. That being said for the sake of that, merfolk are hermaphrodites. And their language doesn't really have a need for pronouns. I also don't know why in my brain the little mermaid is a platinum blonde w blue scales but. I wanted to pull that out.

They're very very very lovesick and daydreamy, the type to stare and just smile dumbly at a wall because he has their favorite human on the brain... He tends to beach himself on the shore trying to grab stuff out of reach, it's almost gotten him in trouble a couple of times.

[jiminjamms]

sex therapy :: 29. karma's a bitch

chapter tags/warnings: manipulative! naoya. naoya's anger issues continue. infidelity/adultery. extremely strong language. corruption. mentions of physical violence. family drama.

word count: 3.2k

notes: my sixty-hour work weeks have been taking a huge toll on me, so i apologize for this incredibly slow update. the good news is that i cannot take this corporate america bullshit anymore and will resign in the next two months. thank you for being patient! likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated. xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

Naoya had never felt this humiliated in his entire life.

When people said karma was a bitch, he never thought that it would actually make its way back to him. While he was not the most righteous person in the world, he was the Zenin CEO, for god’s sake! He was the leader to a multi-billion dollar conglomerate, the heir of a centuries-old bloodline. 

Yet, here he was, charging back to his apartment like an irate animal.

He startled the lobby doormen upon his loud entry, and once he returned to his penthouse, he had to will every muscle in his body not to tear apart his abode in a rampage.

In his head, his encounter with Toji looped like a broken record, fueling his chagrin.

When Naoya sought to confront his cousin for the first time in months, he thought he had been prepared. He did not expect to end up digging himself into a deep hole surpassing the world's layers due to a judgment error—a slight miscalculation. 

Correction: this miscalculation was anything but 'slight' because he wildly underestimated what felt like everything. Now, he bore the consequences of his mistakes after inadvertently turning himself into a laughingstock. Because his ego was his hamartia, he had become a mere jester in a story where he was meant to be the sole hero, and thus his ill feelings burned hotter than the surface of the Sun.

As much as he hated to admit this, Naoya had been shortsighted. He should have known better. Just weeks ago, he saw a vision filled with saccharine promises of a happy, comfortable life as the most powerful man in Japan imbued with power and wealth. He had been confident—a hundred percent certain—that absolutely nothing could go wrong in the trajectory he worked hard to create. But, what the actual fuck just happened at the therapist's office?!

He did not expect his mistress to make a complete fool out of him. Her very existence was an anathema to him, and he hoped to never be in contact with that woman ever again. In hindsight, Naoya should have taken the hint a while ago. He had previously forgiven his cousin's ex-wife, dismissing her blissful but intentional ignorance. Mari had never been too keen on actual intellectual and corporate matters, for she took far more interest in the money and comfort that came with starting from the bottom and sleeping her way to the top. Despite that, Naoya trusted that she at least had half the mind to not publicly discuss their affair, only for him to be proven wrong in front of none other than...Toji Fushiguro.

"Fuck!" Naoya screamed into the void of his empty living room. His reality was a nightmare as he thought about his despised cousin again—the assured gleam in his viridescent eyes, the smug smirk that tugged across his lips. The imagery soured his mood beyond measure. "I'm going to fucking—"

He did not finish his sentence.

Instead, he kicked a nearby lamp in an angry bout, toppling the fixture over and sending tiny shards cascading across the floor accompanied by the dull thud of the shade. Whatever. His housekeeper tomorrow morning would come in and clean that. 

What he instead focused on was how he had never been this infuriated, this belittled, this undignified.

The entire apartment echoed with Naoya's loud huff.

'About ‘your wife’ or whatever you want to deem her, there is not a single chance in hell that she’d ever think about calling you her husband anymore.' These words from Toji affected him more than he would have liked.

What did he mean?

That bastard is bluffing, the blonde had to tell himself, yet even he could not believe in his own consolation.

He needed to do something about this. 

No, no, Naoya wasn’t scared.

He couldn’t possibly be, right?!

Yet, after he could feel his ears begin to cool and breathing start to re-regulate, he stared at the emptiness in his halls as he came to the realization that had no better choice but to talk to you.

You didn't want to be here.

The moment you read Naoya Zenin's text to meet up for a 'quick chat' at the café near his office, you already knew that the upcoming conversation was going to be anything but 'quick.' The last thing you wished to do was to be in the same vicinity as that very man again.

After spending the last few days at your family residence, you had been showered with warm attention from aunts, uncles, cousins, and even house attendants who—despite naturally wondering the reason behind your stay—welcomed your visit with open arms. To your relatives' many inquiries, you forged a pretense that all was well even if all was not. (Besides, all did seem well in your family estate, away from the incessant pandemonium that was the Tokyo city center.)

While you knew that this peaceful break was not meant to last forever, you did not anticipate returning to the capital just to sit with the Zenin CEO alone.

Naoya had specifically chosen a corner table in the Hong Kong-inspired establishment, distanced from potential eavesdroppers. He seemed to have been waiting for a while by the time you arrived, his right leg crossed over his left knee as he twiddled with his thumbs impatiently. Sprawled on the table were a freshly brewed pot of jasmine tea and a platter of warm custard pastries.

He remained quiet as you took the seat across from him, observing with a crease on his forehead and a knit to his brows.

Anyone could tell that the blonde was not the least bit happy.

"Giving me dirty looks is not going to get this conversation anywhere," you pointed out while helping yourself to a tart.

From your comment, the inverted slope on Naoya's lips twisted into a deeper frown. 

He did not understand where your annoyance came from. 

Fine, he never treated you nicely either, but he did not expect you to snap at him when the discussion had hardly begun. You offered him no greetings, and Naoya also took great offense at how you chose not to look at him as you talked.

Truth be told, your neglect reminded him of all the other upsetting things that he was dying to bring up, and your unpleasant attitude whittled away the little restraint he had left.

“You didn’t try to ask where I’ve been. Not one text or call. Guess it would not have mattered to you if I disappeared, huh?" he lashed out through gritted teeth. He hated being forgotten, hated being looked over, and hated how easy it was for him to prove you to be a neglectful and apathetic wife.

Which was why there was no better option than to cut him off.

“You ordered me to leave you alone, Naoya.” Only slightly did you turn your head to glance at him. Stirring sugar into your tea, you kept your attention otherwise on the nearby window and watched businesspeople scurrying about on the streets on their lunch breaks. "You can live without my attention since I'm not the only woman you have around. What happened to your lady friend? Hasn't she been entertaining you long before our marriage? I am sure she would love your company, so why not pay her an impromptu visit?”

From a slanting angle, you could tell that the transformation from your normally calm demeanor dismayed him. Naoya, not you, was typically the one to make snide comebacks, but he could not deny your latest comments. Evidently, he wanted you to go back to your submissive and passive self, but that was precisely what you no longer could be for him.

His silence prompted you to reach into your purse and retrieve a thick manila envelope, and you presented the package on the table.

Naoya's gaze snapped to the parcel. 

He was curious, but cautiously so. He had invited you here, expecting to control the narrative, to dictate the terms. As a result, your unexpected move threw him off balance. 

"What...?"

“Take a look and find out for yourself.”

A puzzled Naoya demonstrated no hesitation.

He snatched the folder, tearing the top open and greedily grabbing the curated pieces inside. He stared for a long time at the first item: a photo. But he recognized the image of him and his mistress, boarding a private jet for their most recent trip to Mexico. Then, he flipped through the stack rapidly, barely registering each item before he turned to the next. Some were printed-out pictures and others were cutouts from news articles, but all featured him and his paramour. The confusion on Naoya's visage slowly morphed into aggravation, and when he finished his inspection, he forcefully threw the items back onto the table.

In the end, Naoya sat back and went still, not even blinking, thinking, or doing anything but pressing his tongue along his inner cheek. "How did you get these?"

No apologies. No remorse.

Hell, based on his response, the man could not even bother to deny your accusations, a telling sign of how little he could care for his relationship with you. Obviously, you must be a joke to him.

In one firm motion, you placed down your teacup.

"You're missing the point.”

While one's eyes may be the windows to the soul, Naoya's offered nothing in his current state. His pupils looked at—no, examined you in intense dark pools despite the iridescent glow from the lights above.

"Toji gave you these, didn't he?" Naoya continued with a disdainful laugh, himself insistent on getting answers to his own questions. "You can't find this shit on the internet anymore since I've had them all taken down. But Toji's fast. He has eyes everywhere, I know he does. Look at him. Months later, and he's still hung up on reclaiming a position he should've never had the right to in the first place!"

Thankfully, you didn’t flinch from his loud voice. What you did do was become more indifferent as if you were placing a wall to separate yourself from him, mentally bracing for his emotional maelstrom.

"You are missing the point," you said once more. This time, you shook your head in disappointment, and your tone was far more frustrated than the last. "Aren't you shameless?”

"Me? Shameless?!” His brows pinched closer from fury. "Take a look at yourself, woman! What did you do to get all this dirt from Toji and his henchmen, hm? Ha! Know what? I bet it’s because you're so willing to spread yourself for them,” he rambled with a nasty sneer plastered on his expression. At his comments, your jaw fell open before snapping shut as the meaning behind his words sank in. The way this man disregarded how he had an affair (that began many months ago!) only to redirect the spotlight onto you was repulsing, implying that the sole reason the therapists talked to you was that you had slept around. “A whore like you love taking all them all, don’t you? Well? Well? Am I right? Goddamn, you’re such a—”

The harsh scraping from your chair as you stood was what finally interrupted him. Unable to tolerate his vilification, you counteracted his anger with the venom in your rancorous glare. 

"How dare you talk about me like that!”

In the meantime, prying eyes started to turn in your direction from the commotion: teenage girls, sharing nervous glances across their table; a lone businessman, stopping mid-sip from his cappuccino; even the barista, pausing mid-grind such that her arm froze inches from the hopper.

"That man...doesn't he seem familiar?" a distant voice asked.

"Is he a celebrity or something?"

"No, wait. He's the person on the cover of last month's Fortune magazine. Naoya Zenin!" another replied.

"Isn't that lady his wife?"

While the onlookers' curious glances turned into full-on stares, their regard steeled your resolve rather than bothered you. Instead, you wanted the crowd to take in the spectacle. Corrupt tricks and dirty money had long painted the Zenin heir as 'the most perfect man in Japan,' and the public deserved to understand the fraudulence and cruelty that underlaid his facade.

"For months, I trusted you. I respected you. I put aside the harrowing loneliness weighing on my heart all because I tried to understand you. You told me that finding the time or energy for our marriage was not easy because board meetings kept you late in the office or business meetings required you to spend several nights abroad. Fine! So, I had been patient. But," and your voice overflowed from anger as you pointed a shaking finger at the pictures on the table, "Taking another woman to Michelin restaurants for dinners? Spending nights with her at Ritz-Carltons and Four Seasons? Going on entire vacations with her across the Pacific? All while you had a wife at home? Are you out of your fucking mind ?!" 

The man's nose flared with deep-seated rage, his eyes mirroring the same bitterness in yours. "At the end of the day," he began sternly, "we're still married."

Ridiculous.

“On paper, ” you had to clarify. "Otherwise, you wouldn't be cheating on me with your older cousin's ex-wife."

Immediately, louder murmurs rippled through the crowd. Naoya turned stiff, uncomfortable with the attention. So much for selecting a quiet corner in the café. He wasn’t stupid enough to sense that he had to be careful. Saying one wrong phrase would condemn him to a public meltdown. 

However, you were already steps ahead of him when you loudly declared: “I’m filing for a divorce.” 

That caught him off guard.

Your announcement even drew audible astonishment from bystanders as they stopped their meals, turning to each other and drawing out their phones.

In literal milliseconds, the vexation once riddling Naoya's demeanor shifted into denial.

“No. We’re not going to talk about a fucking divorce right now. We’re going to fix what we have, and you’re going to come back to me. We’re...We're married for a reason, and we’re going to keep with it!”

"That's a bullshit reason,” you had to snap. “Listen to yourself. Do you hear how selfish you sound!?" At this point, nothing could hide your bafflement. "Naoya, you were the one who said that if I wanted to leave this marriage badly, then I should leave. Ask Mai and Maki! They heard the entire conversation. Didn't you also say that you didn't give a fuck anymore?"

The man attempted to salvage some semblance of control. "I was just joking!"

"No, you were not." Picking up a photo of Naoya and Mari together, you pressed the picture to his face. “How much more can I take? How many days would I still have to go through alone in the penthouse, all because you would be spending your sweet time with the woman that you love?”

Unloading all this emotional baggage, not only for Naoya Zenin but also for the café spectators to hear, took courage. Previously, you would have let the burden gnaw at your soul. You would have rather wallowed in suffering rather than even think about speaking up.

But the past was the past, and you had grown immensely since then. Currently, you were stronger, more confident. You knew that, in Toji's words, you deserved better. Life was too beautiful to waste on a man who did not love or respect you and, with that in mind, you relaxed your clenched fists with an exhausted and fatigued sigh. 

You broke me first, you said through a deserted gaze. 

Naoya Zenin was the reason why you had become the way you were: a cold, seemingly heartless wife who cared none for her husband. The misery that he placed on your shoulders finally reached its limit, and while you could forgive, forgetting the memories in your scarred heart would be a task over months, years, and even a lifetime. 

“Listen,” you began, tone terse, “this divorce will set you free. Mari is the person whom you need—”

“The hell. No!” the man interrupted in a violent outburst, taking your breath away as he slammed the table and hissed. “I don't give a damn about her right now! We’re…We’re over!" he snarled with incredible anger such that he almost appeared to growl. "I don’t need her, I need you! That...That whore doesn't give a flying fuck about my shit! All she cares about is...is...Fuck this. All she wants is the money. Why else do you think she married and then later divorced Toji? She doesn't want to hear about all the shit in my family because she had not been brought up to deal with all the fuckin' drama in my household. She can't understand because, unlike you, she wasn't born with a silver spoon shoved down her goddamn throat!"

Quietly, you absorbed his words, stunned.

So this was how their relationship had been.

You had not expected him to reveal all these entrenched feelings willingly, but his concoction between reckless rage and sheer desperation had allowed him to spill the ugly side of this extramarital affair. Naoya could not afford to lose you, and not just because this marriage solidified the respect of those around him. While Mari offered him an outlet for physical indulgence, only you could offer the cornerstone to Naoya's mental and social fortitude.

“So you ‘need’ me now, but what happens when you find another reason to hate me again? What will you do if you don’t think I can fulfill the role you want me to have as your partner? Or if you wake up one day and suddenly want your cousin’s ex-wife again? Or if you meet another woman? Am I supposed to stand there again, and watch this all happen?" 

No answer.

The fact that he couldn't respond hurt.

"My decision is final. Looking back, I despised every single second married to you. In fact, I feel sorry for myself. The fact that I blindly put up with your manipulation, betrayal, and blame for all these months.” With your belongings collected, you prepared to leave. “You would be stupid to think you're the only one with options, you know.”

Only when you turned around did Naoya react, scrambling to his feet.

“What the fuck are you—”

In any other situation, he would have grabbed you, lunged at you, did everything in his power to stop you from going. Yet, given all the witnesses, all he could do was call you back like a helpless child, trying his best to not escalate the scene (although, at this point, even passerbys outside have stopped by the window to spectate).

"Hey!" Naoya called after you. “Hey! I’m still talking with you!”

Pathetic, really, to see him desperately beg for you to stay in his life.

There was a certain satisfaction in finally having the control at your fingertips. The feeling was empowering—electrifying, even—and you became so focused on the gratification that you barely registered Naoya's last question.

“Where are you going?”

At this point, you already stood by the exit.

“That’s not something that my soon-to-be ex-husband would need to know,” and you hardly gave him another glance as the door closed behind you. “Thank you for showing me everything I hope to never find in another man again."

last chapter || next chapter

end notes: Part of why this update took so long was because I wanted to have an encounter between Naoya and Y/N to showcase Y/N’s development, from someone who thoughtlessly defended her husband to someone who could stand up for herself (all while alone!). I envisioned this interaction many times, and I thought about different ways to approach the scene, the delivery, the dialogue, the choreography, etc. It took me a while to go for what I currently have. Thank you for reading!

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