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turtletaubwrites · 7 months

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A Good Catch ~ Part 4 ~ End

Shanks got the vote for my 600 Followers Celebration, and now I am wrecked. I love this fictional man so much. Please enjoy the conclusion to this lil story. 🎣💖 Thank you for all of the love and support, y'all are amazing!! 🥰

Pairings: Shanks x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4275

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Ao3 Link

Summary: Your impromptu vacation is coming to an end, and you try to enjoy it as much as you can. You want Shanks to know how much it's all meant to you.

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Swearing, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Teasing, Flirting, Alcohol, Penis in Vagina Sex, Unprotected Sex, (Be safe out there), Vaginal Fingering, Choking, Birth Control, Pet Names, Outdoor Sex, Porn with Feelings, Aftercare, Angst with a Happy Ending

A/N: I apologize for all the angst, but don't worry, it'll all be okay! I hope you enjoy this final chapter! This story was a pleasure to write. 🙏🏼

More dreams of the high seas rocked your sleep. The monstrous waves halted their deadly crash upon you as warm lips kissed along your jaw.

“Just a nightmare, damsel. I’m right here. I’ll save you.”

A choked sob left your throat as hot tears burned in your eyes before they’d even opened.

“Whoa, hey. You’re okay, sweetheart.”

Blinking through the tears, Shanks’ gorgeous face, lined with concern, filled your world.

“Need me to fight your dreams, Y/N? Never done that before, but I’ll find a way.”

He puffed up his chest before he kissed away your tears away, and your laugh lit his face up.

“There’s my fiery girl.”

Melting into a salty kiss, you let your bodies find each other again.

“Come here,” he rasped, guiding you to curl against him, his warmth pressed against your back.

He left kisses along your hair as contentment hummed softly through you.

Not enough.

“Want me again so soon,” he teased as you moved your hips back. He let out a hiss, and then a pleased chuckle when you found what you were looking for, rubbing your ass against the hard length of him.

“So greedy,” he purred, tracing his fingers along your neck and chest, his breath hot against your hair.

“I am.” The breathy confession poured out of you, pulling you free of some of that tension. “I'm greedy. And demanding.”

You reached your hand behind you, stroking that veiny cock up against the meat of your ass until he moaned for you.

“Presumptuous of you to demand anything of an Emperor of the Sea.”

His fingers wrapped gently around your throat, the tightening in your core almost painful as you cried out his name.

“Mm, what does my greedy, demanding little damsel want me to do to her?”

His cock twitched in your hand, letting only whimpers leave your lips.

He lifted his head off the pillow behind you, pressing his cheek against the back of your head to get closer to your ear. It didn’t matter where he was, or if he was even touching you, that voice would always destroy you.

“If you’re gonna be so rude, you’d better use your words.”

“Please…”

“That’s more like it,” he rasped, giving your neck just a hint of pressure. “Please what, pretty girl?”

You could feel slick dripping down your thighs already, and had to bite your lip hard to focus.

“Please, Shanks. I need your cock, need to feel you.”

“Good girl,” he praised, replacing your hand with his as he started to push between your thighs. “Fuck, sweetheart… Already drenched, hm? Lift that leg for me now.”

Your leg wobbled as he teased along your folds, lining up until he pressed the swollen tip of him inside.

“Please, please, please, please–”

Shanks dug his fingers into your hip, his voice heavy with his own need.

“Say my name.”

“Shanks– Oh my– Fuck! Shanks…”

The feel of him shoving himself into you sent your eyes rolling back. The force of his thrusts as he used your hip to slam into you harder tore raw, desperate noises from your throat.

“Don’t you dare fucking stop,” he growled behind you, losing some of his force as he released your hip. But he brought his hand to your throat again, squeezing until you choked out his name.

“Mm, you like this, Y/N? I can feel your sweet pussy gripping me so tight. Like when I choke you, baby?”

“Mhm,” you moaned, so close. Then his fingers clenched so fucking tight, and you came on his cock as you fought to say his name.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he groaned, kissing your hair as he loosened his hold. “I need to see you baby, can you move for me?”

After he helped you ride out that orgasm, you followed him, still twitching, until he had you where he wanted.

He sat up against the headboard, his eyes pouring over you as you slid onto his thick cock. The pressure of it had you slumping onto his chest, and he stroked your skin before pushing you back to meet his eyes.

“Can you stay with me, sweetheart?”

Your mind blanked at his words, eyes fluttering closed as you felt him pulsing against the walls of your greedy cunt.

“Can you keep your eyes on mine, Y/N? I wanna watch you fall apart for me.”

Of course.

Digging your fingers into his shoulders, your body thrashed as Shanks found the leverage he needed to make you scream. You gave him his name for as long as you could until you lost all words.

“Play with your clit, love. Let me see you.”

Your mouth fell slack with need as you were ruined again.

Shanks’ dark eyes were a mirage, everything golden, everything you needed, and you lost yourself in the feeling of hope. The feeling that it was real.

The feeling that he wouldn’t disappear like mist to leave you alone in a barren world once again.

“Gods, I need you so bad. Let go for me sweetheart. Mm, feels– fuck. Come for me…”

Right now Shanks was real, and you sent his name like a prayer to the heavens as he filled you with pleasure, with meaning, with the heat of his body, with him.

Your body drank him in, and he gifted you with your own name as you milked his cock, dancing with ecstasy until you lost the strength to hold yourself up.

He held you then, that spicy scent like the last bitter glimpse of the mirage. The last moment to pretend you were saved.

“You know, Y/N,” he let out, his own voice still breathy and strained, “I’ve lived a lot of stories, but I’ve never met a soul like yours before.”

You hummed against him, shivering as his cock twitched within you. You didn’t want to let him go.

“You hungry, sweetheart?”

Breakfast on the beach with the hungover symphony of groans and snores made you smile, Shanks grinning at you as he shielded his eyes from the morning sun.

“You know, it’s not polite to make fun of those in pain,” he reprimanded before stuffing a heaping spoonful into his mouth.

“Oh, my deepest apologies. I didn’t realize that the consequences of your own actions were above reproach. The poor drunken fools.”

Shanks snorted, giving you a crooked smile after wiping his gorgeous face.

“Would you like to take a tour of the ship with me today?”

“Do I get to visit the gift shop afterward?”

This earned you a kiss, his eyes devouring you, eating you up after your breakfast bowls were taken away.

The first place he took you was the crows nest, and he truly looked like a pirate now, making his climb look effortless, even missing an arm. You had never seen your island from so high up before, or the expanse of ocean stretching out so far.

“It’s beautiful…”

“I know,” he hummed, kissing your temple as he held you to him. “I’ve been wanting to ask you, Y/N…”

“Hm?”

Shanks’ eyes held that playful edge they usually did, but something seemed a little sharper.

“Your grandma had a lot of stories about pirates. But you seemed so scared when we found you. What made you so afraid of us?”

“You remember there were good pirates and bad pirates in those stories, right,” you asked, sitting on the bench to meet his gaze as he joined you.

“I remember,” he agreed, tilting his head. “But you were truly afraid. Did you think all pirates were bad?”

“Shanks, should I trust every pirate I meet,” you laughed, leaning back against the railing. “Pirates are lawless criminals, right? Are you expecting me to believe that I should feel safe getting pulled onto most pirate ships on these seas? Should I feel safe amongst a ship full of strangers when I can't tell if they're the good ones or the bad ones?”

Shanks didn’t meet your laughter, his lips quirking as he looked down at his sandaled feet.

“No, you’re right,” he affirmed, his voice almost distant. “You were right to feel scared.”

“You made me feel safe,” you comforted, touching his knee to make him meet your eyes. “I’ve never felt safer than I do with you.”

His slow smile was everything to you, and he kissed your knuckles, the warmth of him lighting you up.

“I’ve gotta check on some things today. Come with me? I’ll show you our old girl, the Red Force.”

“Because you’re leaving tomorrow?”

Those words had remained unspoken, but you couldn’t keep them in anymore. His fingers tensed around yours, and you hated yourself for the hint of emotion you’d let into your voice.

“That’s right,” he almost whispered, trailing his thumb along your skin. “I need to make sure my ship is safe to go.”

I’m ruining it, I ruined it.

Grateful that he climbed down first, you took the time to school your face, and swallow the heat of pain in your throat.

Every moment that he stood you in front of some part of his beautiful ship, telling you about what he loved the most, you wished he would just keep his fingers on your skin.

More of the crew was on the ship today than you’d seen before, greeting you both as they reported to their captain.

Every now and then, as you passed by a little alcove, a hidden corner, Shanks would pull you aside.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N.”

“Say my name for me, sweetheart,”

“Kiss me, please. Kiss me now.”

Time meant nothing, as you let yourself be with him. Laugh with him, joke with him, enjoy each moment.

“And here’s–”

“Your fishing equipment,” you asked without needing to, the smell giving it away.

“Mhm, what do you think?”

Ooh, you had thoughts.

“How the fuck are you alive,” you questioned, holding a decaying pole aloft. “How can you survive on the seas like this? Do you even catch any fish? What the fuck is this net?”

Shanks laughed at your outrage, and you rounded on him with genuine horror.

“We get by,” he choked out, laughter still caught in his throat.

“I’m genuinely impressed,” you said flatly, crossing your arms at him. “For someone that grew up on the ocean, I assumed you knew something about fishing. It’s a miracle you haven’t starved to death already.”

“I think I’ve encountered a few miracles in my time,” he grinned, tugging you toward him.

“Stop doing that,” you breathed, pulling away before you panicked, grabbing his hand in both of yours.

“Are you o–”

“Sorry,” you rushed out, “I’m just pissed that a world renowned pirate ship has such a pathetic excuse for fishing equipment.”

Shanks paused, his eyes raking over you before he kissed your forehead, pulling you along.

“Come on, fisherwoman. Let’s get back to our vacation.”

An early dinner brought more clear eyed crew members to join you at the dingy table.

“Did your grandma leave you with any keepsakes,” Benn asked, his curiosity pulling you in, “Any strange weapons, or trinkets, or anything?”

“Um, no,” you answered, looking up as you tried to think of anything. “Just old fishing poles, and a bunch of stories I never believed.”

“A few more of those stories sounded real, you know,” he almost whispered, leaning back as Shanks leaned in.

“What do you mean?”

Benn gave a quick nod, standing to leave as Shanks let his voice tease over your ear, bringing shivers to your skin.

“It means we’re sure your grandma was a pirate. Or at least she knew one well enough to take all their stories.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Why,” he breathed against your cheek, leaving a press of lips that was barely a kiss.

“It doesn’t matter if a fisherwoman’s stories are true. It just matters that they make the time pass by faster, make the boredom of waiting less harsh. We just need something to make life bearable until we get to the next bite.”

Why do I keep doing this? I don’t want to waste my last day with him with my shitty mood. Fucking stop!

Shanks said nothing, as if he could read the ungrateful thoughts in your mind. He stood, snagging a blanket off a hammock as he led you to the sand. He led away from the camp, until the voices, and the light of the fire were gone, and he gestured for you to help him lay the blanket out.

He plopped onto his back with a low grunt, bringing a soft laugh to your lips.

“Are you gonna–”

He didn’t have to convince you. You tossed yourself back, a groan interrupting his words as you fell beside him.

Your hand found his, and the waning moon filled your life as you let its light take over.

“You really are incredible, Y/N.”

The silence of nonbelief filled your space, but you shook it away, giving him everything you could, everything you hoped he would understand.

“You saved me, Shanks.”

“Oh, so you finally admit it?”

You tore your hand from his to smack his chest, grumbling at how much his giggles made you need to kiss him.

“No, stupid! I mean…”

Words. How could you put everything into words? Everything he’d done, and the gratitude you wanted him to take with him?

“I had forgotten how to live, Shanks. Forgotten how to enjoy the life around me. You helped me remember. I’ll never forget it.”

Tears filled your throat, and there was nothing you could do to stop them. No force in this world could hold back the weight of emotion that you felt for this ridiculous pirate.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out, curling yourself against him. “I’m just going to miss you.”

Shanks said nothing for a long moment. Just held you, held his cheek against your hair while you tried to calm your breathing.

“I live a dangerous life, Y/N,” he whispered, kissing your forehead.

“I know, Shanks, it’s okay. I knew you’d have to leave,” you breathed, slow tears dripping down to his chest as you pulled him even closer. “I just wanted you to know… I wanted you to know how much these past few days have meant to me.”

You followed as he sat up, brushing your tears away. He held your jaw, tilting your face to study you.

The way Shanks looked at you always felt like a gift, and tonight it felt like treasure. You rested your hands on his face, and sent gratitude to the moon for lighting up these magical nights.

“I feel the same, Y/N.”

You couldn’t tell which would feel worse, which would make it harder. The thought that it didn’t mean much to him, and that he'd be able to sail away from you, just the same as he would from any other island.

Or the thought that he would miss you, that you would both spend nights under full moons, remembering the touch of each other’s skin, remembering everything.

How could you let him go? How could you ever move on if you knew he was out there somewhere with your name etched in his mind?

His lips met yours, and this kiss felt like the end. It felt like the world was ending, and all you could do was hang on to each other, keep that connection until you would be flung apart.

This little world you had created together, this moonlit beach filled with laughter and lust. It was coming to an end, so you tore every moment of joy you could from it, like a band playing music as the ship sinks.

“Y/N…”

“Shanks.”

Clothes were left in a pile on the sand. His clothes. His loose clothes that you’d never feel on your skin again.

He kept bringing you back, out of the painful thoughts. He always knew how to save you.

“I’m right here, sweetheart,” he rasped, trailing his lips along your neck. “You have made me so happy.”

Every touch was precious, and your eyes never parted for long.

Shanks moaned your name as his fingers reached your thighs, your body’s need for him staining the blanket beneath you.

You nodded as his eyes grew dark, and those rough, perfect fingers pressed gentle circles around your clit before entering you. You fell back onto the blanket, and that heat, the pressure in your core was so close.

Just being with Shanks gave your body so much pleasure that it took no time at all before your back was arching, and you looked up at his glowing face while he brought you.

“So beautiful,” he breathed, tracing those wet fingers along your skin, marking you with that pleasure.

“Shanks, please–”

“I’m here. I’m right here, Y/N.”

Gentle kisses covered your neck and face until his lips found yours. He kissed you now as if you had all the time in the world. His lips and tongue took their time, exploring you, bringing soft, needy noises from you both.

Finally, he rolled that heat of him onto you, his cock sliding through your wet folds. He moved his hips, getting so close as he kept his eyes on you, his arm holding him up above you.

“Help me, sweetheart.”

His husky voice made your eyes roll back before you reached down to guide him to your entrance. He hissed when you wrapped your fingers around him, and wasted no time in stretching you, molding your body to his shape.

That red hair hung loose, falling around his face as he rocked into you. Your hands clung to him, let him be your anchor.

“Look at you,” he said with a breathy smile, “my fiery damsel. You are so good for me, so perfect for me.”

“You feel so good, Shanks, you fill me–”

“I’ll fill you up, beautiful. I need to feel you again.”

He nodded down at you, eyes going frantic as he snapped his hips up.

“I need you baby, need to feel you…”

He growled as your fingers found your clit, thrusting into you as hard as he could on the blanket covered sand.

“Look at me, just like that, so good for me.”

“Shanks, I’m coming…”

Strained, primal noises left your throats, tearing through the air.

You could feel the throbbing veins of his cock as thick ropes of come filled you, painting you, claiming you.

He managed to breathe first, and you knew he was showering you with sweet words, sweet praise. You weren’t in words yet, you were just in the heat of his body, your racing heartbeats mixing together, that delicious scent of him.

You could have stayed on that blanket forever, but soon you were laughing, helping each other don sandy clothes until you found the shower again. Washing and worshiping each other before sharing more stories as you lounged on those red sheets.

It was a perfect night, and though you fought against sleep to make it last, you woke to more warm kisses, and a mind filled with stormy seas.

“Good morning, damsel,” he teased with that crooked smile.

Shanks held your hand on deck as your shitty village came into view. In your other hand, you played with that little stone in your pocket.

Something to remember him by.

This gorgeous ship docked, and you watched the crew bring your tiny useless boat down. Your stinky gear was piled within, and you laughed to yourself at the sight of the single oar.

Keep it together.

“Goodbye,” you managed to say without your lip quivering, looking up at him before heading down.

“Wait, I…”

Your breath hitched, his hand tensing around yours.

“I’m walking you home.”

He led you along, and your mind felt foggy, not quite there. Nothing felt real, and you weren’t sure if it was helping you or not.

The crew called for you as you passed, waving and yelling their goodbyes. You caught Benn staring at Shanks, shaking his head. Yassop gave you a wink, and the sounds of everyone’s cheers followed you down the dock onto the dirt trail home.

“This is it,” you announced at the door to your rickety little house, the first words either of you had spoken since stepping off the ship.

The air was thick around you. His eyes were a little wide as he stared at you, and your jaw was clenching as you tried to keep your tears at bay.

Your mind went in a vicious circle of wanting to beg him to stay, and wanting to beg him to leave already because it hurt too much.

“I’m, uh,” he cleared his throat before touching your cheek. “I’m gonna miss you, Y/N.”

The answering words choked out of your throat, high and shaky, and his smiling face fell. Those pretty eyes looked pained, his brows pulling together as he reached for you.

As he kissed you.

Another perfect kiss. Until you pulled away.

“Goodbye, Shanks.”

You wanted to shove him away as he nodded, chewing on his lip for too long.

“Goodbye, damsel.”

His soft voice almost broke you as he turned away. You couldn’t watch.

The fishy stink of your house filled your nose as you fell inside, still holding in your sobs so he wouldn’t hear your heart breaking as he walked away. There was nothing but tears, and the rocking movement of your body as you held yourself, your still bare feet shaking as you sat on the old wooden floor.

You had never felt more alone. There was no one you could even tell the story to. The story would disappear, just like he did.

Remembering the stone in your pocket, you held it in your palm until the wracking sobs began.

I wish you were here, grandma.

Grandma.

Your body moved on its own. Out the squeaky back door. Running up the dirt trail, to the little hill above the house, until you fell onto the grass, clutching that little stone in your palm. You touched your forehead to the heavy stone with your grandma’s untrustworthy name carved upon it.

“I finally lived a story, grandma.”

It spilled out from you, as if you were sitting on that boat with her, waiting for a bite. You didn’t even have to lie. It was a good story.

“I’ll never forget him,” you whispered, breath finally even, with the pressure of tears still there. But maybe… Maybe you would be okay.

“Y/N!!”

What the fuck?

“Y/N!”

That voice. His voice. You didn’t want to torture yourself. It was just your mind trying to deal with the pain.

“Damsel! Don’t hide from me, please!”

“Shanks?”

You had to clear your throat to yell his name, but you were still frozen to the spot.

“Fuck, Y/N. Where are you?”

His voice moved closer as you climbed to your feet, your legs wobbly from sitting on the ground for so long.

Waving for him, your lips parted as you watched him run up the trail. His hair was damp with sweat, and his breathing was ragged as he stood before you.

“Wha–”

“We need a fisherwoman,” he practically shouted at you.

Not a sound left your lips as you tried to figure out if you were hallucinating or not.

The hallucination reached out to hold your hand, squeezing as he caught his breath.

“You saw our stuff, we’re terrible! We need someone to fix up our gear, and help us fish in all sorts of wild waters.”

Your brows creased as you tried to focus, a headache starting to form from all the whiplash and crying.

Shanks dipped his head toward you, bouncing on his knees slightly as he continued.

“It’s okay if you don’t wanna be a pirate. You can still travel with us until we find an island you like. Somewhere you can be happy.”

Your mind was still stuck, just trying to understand the words he was saying.

He touched your cheek gently, those pretty eyes searching yours.

“I don’t…” he started, his voice rough, like he couldn’t get it out.

“I don’t wanna leave here without you.”

The chains around you broke loose, a wave of relief, and joy, and excitement rolling over you. You lunged at him, falling into a laughter-filled kiss.

“Are you sure,” you questioned, mind still fragile, afraid to lose it all again.

“I’m sure, I promise,” he breathed between those sweet kisses.

Pulling back from him, you looked into that face that you’d never forget. The joyful surprise in those eyes, the slow, crooked curving of those lips. A truly happy smile. Your new favorite.

“You know,” you teased, poking his chest, “you sounded pretty distressed there. Almost like you were the one in need of some rescuing.”

Shanks’ smile turned mischievous as he caught your hand, starting to pull you away from your old life.

“Damsel, I’m gonna be your captain now,” he threatened, the purr in his voice sending shivers over your skin. “We’re gonna have to work on your manners.”

“Good luck with that,” you said with a laugh as you followed him to the trail.

“Wait,” you cried out, pulling your hand away.

“Why? Is everything okay,” he asked, worry filling his eyes again.

“I’ve just got one more thing I need to do.”

Kissing his cheek, you ran back toward the grass.

“Hey, grandma,” you whispered as you left that little stone on her grave, winking at Shanks as he beamed at you.

“You were right. It was a good catch.”

Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: Thank you for joining me on this ride! I made myself cry with this one, lol. I have now fallen in love with another fictional character. What do I do now 😭

#shanks x reader #red haired shanks #x reader #reader insert #fem!reader #one piece x reader #one piece fics #turtletaub fics #follower celebration #fic requests #mine #fluff #one piece fluff #shanks fluff #shanks fics #shanks smut #one piece smut #smut #use of y/n

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sparklingchan · 6 months

Text

Serendipity || Seo Changbin (Stray Kids)

Pairing: Reader(fem.) X Changbin

Word Count: 5.4k+

Warnings: Suggestive, mentions of pregnancy (the reader is not pregnant) , mentions of poison, Changbin is sweeter than sugar. Set in the Joseon Era.

Genre: Royal AU, Arranged marriage AU, fluff with very slight angst.

Description: The King of Joseon had chosen you as his queen. But there are those that wish for this union to fail. Will your love be enough to overcome the competitiveness of the Palace?

A/N: Hello everyone! Back with another installation of the SKZ Royal AU. I am genuinely in love with this one ngl. King Changbin is a rizzler y'all. Hope you guys have fun reading this <3

Do check out the other fics in the skz royal series. (The stories are not interrelated)

Here's the link to the masterlist.

Being a woman in this country is not an easy task. Especially when one is a candidate for the position of the country's Queen.

You'd dreamt of this for years, the idea sewn into every thought by your father even since you were child. With time, you'd welcomed the thought without a complaint.

"My lady, the Royal messenger is here." Somi informs you, and your nervousness just goes up by a thousand.

Did you manage to become the Queen and make your father proud? Or did you get disqualified and were now just a daughter of some minister and free to marry any other commoner like yourself?

You run down the hallway and enter the pavillion in front of your house, the colorful banners of the Royal entourage shine under the bright sun.

You straighten your robes and kneel down, head almost touching the ground, as a mark of respect for the King's verdict.

The chief Eunuch opens up the scroll in his hands.

"Please find enclosed the Royal Edict from the King's Court:

I, Seo Changbin, the King of Joseon, have chosen Miss y/n of House Kim as my wife and, by extension, the Queen of our beloved country. I have consulted the three High State Councilors and my mother- the Queen Dowager about the same and we have all unanimously agreed that she would be the best choice for the country as well as the Royal family, owing it all to her wits, beauty and manners.

Congratulations to Miss y/n and her family.

The Royal family would also like to extend an invitation to the bride-to-be to shift into the Detached Palace at the earliest as part of the customary pre wedding ritual. "

It feels as if someone had punched out the air from your lungs, you couldn't speak nor stand, while your parents and brother continuously thanked the Royal Eunuch, accepting all the gifts sent by the Palace for you.

But you couldn't move. You just stayed there, frozen. For life as you had known it has come to an end.

And thereafter begins a new, Royal chapter of your life.

"I'm going to miss you, my child."

The days since the Edict pass by in a heartbeat. All the members of your family were busy with packing your belongings while you were busy with mentally preparing yourself to leave your family and house behind forever.

Yes, you'd always wanted to be a Queen. Yes, you'd spent years getting ready for this role. Yet when the time finally comes, it hurts you to think about leaving behind twenty three years of your life.

"I'm going to miss you too, mother." On hearing your words, your mother cries harder.

But as usual, your father shows no emotion. His face is calm.

"Remember, y/n, there are no friends in the Palace other than your husband. You cannot confide in anyone but him. The other concubines will do anything to gain his favor, but you shall always be a step ahead. Be vigilant and loyal. You will make a great Queen." He says. Like the strategist he'd always been.

"Yes, father." You reply, swallowing the lump in your throat.

Your mother clinges to your arm.

"We will try and visit you whenever we can. I'm sure his Majesty will allow."

"Yes, of course. You can visit me anytime. The Palace is only a few hours from here."

"Oh, my child! How will I ever live without you!" Another sob tears out from your mother's throat. You hug her with all the love and care you could muster up in that moment.

Your father walks out of the room, hands behind his back and face twisted into a frown.

The Detached Palace is to be a temporary residence for the bride-to-be. For over the next thirty days, you would be receiving lessons on various subjects like history, Royal Etiquette, sewing, cooking and most importantly- lessons on intimacy. The last lesson is considered most important, according to Somi, since it allows you to birth as many healthy heirs as possible.

After helping you dress up for the night and setting up your bed, your maids take your leave for the night, only Somi remaining by your side.

"Do you think I'll see the King tomorrow? It's queer but I'd like to know what my future husband looks like, at least."

Somi sighs, "I don't think it's allowed, my lady. I believe you can only see his Majesty on your wedding day. A month from now."

You're oddly disappointed. You had dreamt so many nights of seeing the King, holding his hand, being by his side, yet the King in those dreams often never had a face.

Was it wrong to yearn to look at your future husband's face? Just once?

A subtle knock on your door startles the both of you.

"Yes?"

"My lady, the King is here to see you." Your handmaid almost whispers the words through the door.

With unparalleled urgency, Somi helps you straighten your clothes and rushes off towards the door.

"Your majesty." The maids and Somi greet him with the customary bow, while you purse your lips in a line, head hanging in a subtle bow.

Your heart hammers against your chest. It's so loud, you're sure even the King could hear it.

"Please give us some privacy." The King commands.

And you heart beats faster on hearing his voice for the first time. Gentle, yet authoritative, just like you'd dreamt.

When Somi closes the door behind her, you almost regret wishing to see your future husband. The proximity makes you nervous and you could only hope you'd not faint in front of him.

"My lady, you may rise."

You'd almost forgotten you were still bowing to him. You mentally slap yourself.

"Y-yes, your majesty. " your voice comes out as an embarrassing squeak, your eyes still on the ground.

You'd prayed for this moment for years, y/n. Why couldn't you just meet his eyes?

As if sensing your inner conflict, the King takes two long strides towards you and hooks his index finger under your chin, sending a chill down your body.

"My lady, please look at me."

And you do.

And he's like everything you'd ever wished for.

Perfect, like a beautifully crafted sculpture.

His soft brown locks, his rosy lips, the subtle mischief in his eyes. Everything is perfect.

"Y-yes, your majesty. Sorry." You mumble.

The king smiles, rubbing circles into your cheeks.

"You may call me Changbin when we're alone."

You nod.

"I just came to ask if you're finding your new residence comfortable. We both shall be busy with lessons tomorrow onwards so I figured tonight would be a good time to visit my bride."

His bride? His bride?

Your legs feel weak.

"I'm finding it extremely comfortable, your majesty. Thank you for your hospitality. "

Changbin let's out a low chuckle, leaning towards you. His lips hover inches above yours. And when he speaks, you feel hot air on your lips, "I told you, y/n. Call me Changbin."

You frantically nod.

"Good. Better be careful next time, my bride."

When you wake up the next morning, you're sure you'd dreamt everything that happened last night.

But apparently not.

"The King is a dashing young man." Somi teases as she lathers a concoction of herbs into your hair. "You're lucky, my lady. He seems to be a gentleman."

But you are too caught up in your thoughts to reply to her.

Did the king of Joseon really come all the way to the Detached Palace to see you? What if he's disappointed with how you had reacted? But he shouldn't blame you at all.

You had not been expecting anyone yesterday night, especially not him. But he did come to you. And he touched your chin. If you focus hard enough, you could feel his touch lingering in the area.

"My lady?" Somi clicks her fingers in front of your eyes, "Come back to earth. We have to get you ready for the classes today."

Blushing, you reply, "What classes do I have today?"

You had three classes today: Palace etiquette, literature and what Somi insists most important: lessons on reproduction.

While Palace etiquette mostly includes lesson on how to behave with Royal elders, ministers, maids, the King, literature includes important pieces of literature that are important for a woman.

And lastly, the most dreaded time arrived.

The reproduction lessons.

The tutor shows you all sorts of obnoxious hand movements and some drawings of couples in intimate positions. You feel uncomfortable from the beginning till the end.

A woman at least five decades older than you is teaching you about intimacy? Very awkward, to say the least.

But you heave a sigh of relief when the classes end for the day and you make your way to your room in the Detached palace.

"It's just the first day, Somi and I'm already tired to the bone." You say, kicking your shoes off.

"Well, it's going to be a lifetime of time this now, my lady. And you best be prepared for it."

You reply Somi with silence. But her words make you wonder. If this palace life would ever be less tiring someday? Would it even be worth it?

Perhaps not.

But King Changbin 's face flashes in front of your eyes; his sparkling eyes, mischievous grin, his feather like touch- maybe he is what will make everything worth it.

That night, after your maids get your bed ready while Somi is combing your hair, a familiar announcement echoes through the corridors of the Detached Palace.

"My lady, the King is here to see you."

His smiling face peeps through the doors as your maids hurry out of the room. He wears blue silk robes, and you feel weaker in his presence than you did yesterday.

"Did you miss me, y/n?"

And thus begins a month of secret nightly visits by the King of Joseon to the Detached Palace.

Everyday, you wake up looking forward to the time when King Changbin would come knocking at your doors, always up to some jesting.

Sometimes, he brings you fruits you'd mentioned you liked or he tells you stories from his childhood. At other times, he tells you about that one teacher he will hate till the end of time.

But most times, he spends his time listening to you talk- about everything and everyone, about the skies and gods, about ghosts and afterlife, about favourite foods and literature. After you'd overcome the initial shyness, opening upto Changbin was as easy as breathing, almost natural. Of course, you were still nervous around him, but it's a feeling you'd come to like.

Is this what the writers and poets describe as 'butterflies'?

"Do you think I'll make a good Queen?" You ask him one night. He sits in front you on a cushion, across the room, a position you told him is appropriate for two unwed people (although he did not agree to it initially).

If your nightly shenanigans were to be ever discovered by anyone, you would not want to be found in close proximity to each other even though you were betrothed to each other. He's breaking Palace rules everyday as it is.

He hums, "Of course! I think you'll make a great Queen. You're so good at your lessons already."

"That does not guarantee anything. I might not be good at taking the responsibilities."

"Do you trust my judgment, y/n? I think you'll make a great Queen. And even if you are overwhelmed, I shall always be here."

That night he leaves earlier than he usually does, owing to the fact that tomorrow is the day where his concubines are to be welcomed into the palace. Five of them.

The thought leaves you feeling bitter and dejected, but you make sure to not make those feelings obvious. This is a rule for Kings, to take as many concubines as possible to ensure the continuation of the blood line.

"Don't worry, my lady. Your rank in the palace is above these petty concubines. They will not mess with you." Somi comforts your thoughts the next day.

"But what if Changbin favors them more?"

Somi does not reply to that question.

On your 18th birthday, your father had promised to you that he would make you the Queen of this country. He kept his promise because here you are, after five years, getting dressed to be married to the most powerful man in the country.

Your father always insisted that powerful men do not love but Changbin's sparkling eyes always contradicted everything your father had taught. Nevertheless, you know the competitiveness among the concubines for the King's affection is mad. More often than not, even the Queen gets involved in petty fights.

But you try to remove all thoughts of your father and the concubines today. Because today, you are to be married to King Changbin. From today, your name will be written in the historical logs of the Royal family. From today, a new life begins.

"Are you okay, my lady?" Somi asks, "You look worried."

"I'm fine. Just hope the ceremony goes well."

The ceremony does go well and in all honesty, you were not worried about the ceremony itself. You were worried about the aftermath.

The maids guide you to your new palace, and get you dressed in white robes for the wedding night. The night when you will finally meet Changbin as his wife. The butterflies swim around in your belly.

The bed is decorated with flower petals and a few candles are lit. Everything is perfect.

"The King is here." One of your ladies in waiting announce and you get up to greet your husband.

The maids leave the room as the doors slide open and Changbin steps in, also dressed in white robes. He looks dashing, but his signature grin is nowhere to be found.

When the doors close behind him, he walks past you to the bed, the scent of liquor evident in his breath.

"Have you been drinking, your majesty?" You ask him, worried by his odd behavior.

What was wrong with him? Why wouldn't he even bother to meet your eyes?

"Changbin." He slurs, wrapping the blankets around him, "Call me Changbin."

He turns away from you and is snoring away in no time.

The butterflies in your stomach flutter around before dropping dead.

You did not sleep that night. Even though you were sleeping next to the man you love, you felt lonelier than ever.

Many times during the night, you consider walking out of the bed chamber to the servants quarter so you could talk to Somi. But you couldn't do that. Because you were now the Queen of this country and every single step you take will have its repercussions.

When morning comes, Changbin wakes up in a haste and greets you with a subtle nod and walks out of the chamber in long strides.

You well the tears back. It's your first day as Queen and hadn't he always promised to be there when you were overwhelmed? Had he lied? Or was it Changbin's doppelganger who visited you every night in the Detached palace?

Somi comes in a few minutes later with an excited smile on her face.

When she does your hair for the day, she asks, "So, how was the wedding night?"

You want to answer her truthfully - how cold Changbin had been, how he had not even looked at you let alone touch you, how you think he had changed almost overnight. But you see the prying eyes of the other palace maids and swallow your sadness.

"It was perfect. Like everything I'd ever hoped for."

"He was gentle, I hope." She says through a grin, but it feels like someone pouring alcohol on an open wound.

"Yes. He was."

As part of royal customs, the new bride is supposed to visit the senior most female member of the family and greet her. In your case, the member happens to King Changbin's mother.

Somi dresses you in the most exquisite silks and adorns your hair with the most precious flower but you feel nothing at all when everyone compliments you on the way out of your new Queen's palace.

Your mother in law's palace is a little far from the Queen's palace yet it is as beautiful as any other palace. From inside as well as outside.

"Greetings, your majesty. It is nice to meet you." You bow in front of the Queen Dowager.

The woman-not more than sixty years of age- looks at you with a gentle smile.

"Come in, y/n. Please be at ease."

You're seated in front of her on a cushion while the Queen Dowager's maids serve you breakfast.

"I hope your first day here goes well, my child. Our family is thrilled to have you." She says.

"The pleasure is all mine, your majesty. I am honored to be a part of this family." You say.

In the back of your mind, you wonder if Changbin is thrilled to have you or not. Probably not.

The mere thought of yesterday's rejection stings.

"Y/n, truth be told, my son is a quite a troubled man. His father was murdered in front of his eyes. He was made the king when he was only 16 years old. It's been 7 years since then, but the burden only gets worse. I hope you, as a Queen and as his wife, can help him lessen these burdens. Can you do that?" The Queen Dowager asks again, sipping tea from a small cup.

"I will do everything I can to help him." If only he'd let you.

"Good, good. I'm glad. And one more thing, y/n, you know as Queen one of your primary duties is to produce an heir for Changbin's throne. I hope you're working on that, yes?"

Heat reaches your cheeks. If only the poor woman knew what her dear son had done last night. If his behavior continues, perhaps it will be long before the Queen Dowager sees the face of a royal grandchild.

"We are trying, your majesty. We will not disappoint you." You reply, sipping tea from your own cup.

"Great! I shall send all types of herbs and tonics to help you conceive as fast as possible. I shall also draw up a chart after consulting the astrologer..." the Queen Dowager's voice fades into the background as your mind drifts off to the nights in the Detached palace, when Changbin would come and spend all his free time with you, against the rules of the palace. At that time, you had been sure that producing an heir would be a beautiful process, not a chore.

But Changbin does not even treat the thought like a chore.

Did he not love you? Did his Royal duties burden him too much?

When you leave the Queen Dowager's palace, you walk past The King's palace. It is as beautiful and majestic as they say. But you wonder if you'll ever be able to set foot in the same.

As if on cue, you see Concubine Jung walking out of the King's palace, her maids behind her. The butterflies in your stomach burn with jealousy.

She has a smirk on her face when she sees you.

"Eun, did you know there's a rumor around the palace that the King refused to sleep with the Queen last night? Sad, isn't it?" Concubine Jung says.

One of her maids giggle and nod, "Of course! How could the Queen even live with this shame?"

You cry yourself to sleep that night, while Somi does everything in her abilities to soothe you.

Needless to say, nothing worked.

"My lady, wake up. The King has invited you to breakfast with him." Somi informs one morning, six months after your wedding.

"Tell him I have a bad stomach bug. I cannot go."

You'd be found dead before sharing a meal with him and that obnoxious Concubine Jung. You'd shared enough meals with them already.

The past months, the King had not visited you even once but often you'd see him walking the gardens with Concubine Jung at his side.

After the first few weeks, you had no tears left to shed anymore so when the rumor came in last month that Concubine Jung might be pregnant, your eyes do not water no matter how much you force yourself to cry.

"I do not wish to congratulate them." You say, true and plain.

"My lady, he's invited only you. Not anyone else."

So you agree. As a last attempt to make your marriage work, even if it's just for your own sake.

Somi dresses you in green robes- The King's favorite. You quickly make your way to his palace, as if someone else would take your place if you didn't hurry. It's sad your thoughts had turned so negative in just half a year in the palace.

Your father had told you the King would take in many lovers during his lifetime, and that being Queen is about having power, not being loved.

But you think he didn't warn you enough. He didn't warn you how lonely it would be to sleep on the cold bed every night, how painful it would be to see the King smile at someone else.

Even if you did wish for a child, how could you produce you a child without Changbin?

"Good morning, your majesty." You say to him when you enter his bed chamber. It smells like cinnamon, a smell he'd often carry with himself back when he used to visit you at the Detached palace. Back when you were sure the king had been in love with you.

"Hello, my Queen. Please have a seat."

The butterflies dance around for a split second.

"Did you sleep well last night?" He asks, taking a seat in front of you.

"Yes." Lies. "Thank you for inviting me over."

When the maids leave the both of you alone, his demeanor changes.

"Actually, y/n, I had something to talk to you about." He says, casually, as if he hadn't been hurting you everyday for the past few months.

"What is it?" You ask.

He sighs, "It's mother. Ever since that rumor of Concubine Jung being pregnant spread. She wants the first grandchild to be of the Queen."

His words do not faze you, "How can I help you, Changbin?"

He frowns. Since when had your tone become this melancholic?

"Um, so if I have your consent, I'd like to try for a child tomorrow night. We'll see how that goes, yeah?"

"Okay. I will be honored." You say.

You finish up the food quickly and almost slide the doors open when he grabs your arm from behind.

"Y/n, what is it? Did something happen? Are your parents well?"

"My parents are well enough, thank you for asking." You say, keeping your eyes on the ground.

"Then? What happened? Is it Concubine Jung? Really, you did not have to be jealous of her. She's not pregnant. I can assure you of that. I have not consummated my marriage with any one of the concubines."

His words seem to have an effect on you. Your heart blossoms with hope but you keep your face and voice neutral.

"I am not jealous, Changbin. If one of the concubines get pregnant, I shall wish you both well."

You force your arm out of his grip and walk out the palace, not looking back once.

Changbin's stares at your leaving figure, now worried beyond relief that he might have broken the one person he cared for the most by his pursuits of a greater good.

While the past few months for you had been filled with loneliness, for Changbin it was almost the same-if not worse.

The first night of your marriage was filled with as many butterflies for him, as it was for you.

He had fallen in love with you and he wasn't afraid to show the world how much you meant to him. He wanted to hold you, kiss you, make love to you. And he had all plans to do that on the first night.

But that was until he had overheard a secret conversation between Concubine Jung and her father- Minister Jung.

For all he knew, Minister Jung had always wanted his daughter to be the Queen but being the dim-wit that she was, Concubine Jung could not even get through the first stage.

"Father, it's been two days since I'd been in the palace and that man has not visited me once. He had not even asked for my name the day of the welcoming. What kind of man is he? And you say I am to be Queen!"

"Hush, child. In this palace, even the walls are listening. Be careful. And as far as the position of Queen is concerned, you need not worry. If the King does bed the Queen tonight and she get pregnant, we shall make sure her pregnancy terminates before maturity. I have connections with all sorts of medicine vendors in the country, be assured, she shall never see the face of a child. After we weaken the Queen, we can take her throne as easily!"

Changbin had wanted to laugh at the man's foolish plans but deep down, he was worried as well. For you.

Which is why he pushed you away for so long and kept Concubine Jung close. While she tried everything in her power to seduce him, he refused her under the pretense of keeping an oath of abstinence for a year.

Every time she tried to even hold his hand, Changbin thought of you; your innocent eyes, your talks, your wit, your hands, your beautiful hair. No woman could make him feel like you do.

Changbin's secret informants had confirmed that Minister Jung had not one but two houses full of gold and cash he'd collected as illegal taxes from the local people. He'd also sometimes force husbands to send their wives to him in exchange for money. Even the thought nauseated Changbin.

Every time Concubine Jung visited, he made sure to collect some sort of evidence through her. He even visited her every night and while she snored away, he stole some of her gold jewlery and clothes to get them checked as evidence of the illegal taxes her father had been collecting.

And sure enough, after a few months of spying on her and her father, Changbin had gathered enough evidence by now to expose both of them at the court.

But he realised quickly that Minister Jung had a few tricks up his sleeves as well. The rumor of his daughter's pregnancy would make it difficult for Changbin to expose him easily, and so Changbin waited every night that the rumors would die down so he could run to the Queen's Palace and hug you with all his might. You were not safe unless the father and daughter were deposed.

And for some selfish reasons, Changbin had hoped you'd understand the reason behind his distance. But no woman could find a logical reason behind her lover being absent and it was horribly wrong for him to expect you to do the same.

"Are you stupid?" His friend, the eccentric dancer Minho had asked him.

Changbin had told him how coldly you'd behaved this afternoon when he'd asked you if you wished to try for a child. Most women would giggle and blush. But you were like a statue.

"You push her away for months and make her feel lonely and not loved and what not and you have the audacity to ask her that?"

"Well, yes. Mother had been pressuring me for a child and obviously, even with the pressure, I would never do anything that y/n would not have wanted but I thought it would be a great way to reconnect with her. Even if it didn't end in child making or whatever."

Minho let's out a frustrated groan, "You have to learn so much, Bin. But let's start with this- be honest with her. She's your wife and you ought to tell her everything. Give answers to all her questions and hold her hand if she let's you. Small steps first, a child can wait."

Changbin nods, " Okay, should I go to her right now?"

"Yes, you idiot!" Minho says, earning a slap on the arm from The King of Joseon.

He should be glad he's not being beheaded for calling the King an idiot.

You're almost done getting ready for bed when the lady in waiting makes an unexpected announcement .

"My lady, the King is here to see you."

Your heart leaps and the butterflies come alive again only to die down once you realise why he might be there. For a child. Isn't that why he's here? Isn't that why people get married in the first place?

"Y/n." He sighs when he enters the room, almost out of relief. He purses his lips.

"Is there anything I could help you with?" You ask.

Oh, how badly he'd hurt you. He could see the hurt in your eyes, in your voice, in your mannerisms.

"Y/n, I'm sorry. I really am. I know I have caused you pain and I cannot imagine how lonely it must have been. But I hope you know that I really do love you and only you."

"Then why the distance? Why visit Concubine Jung every night?" You ask, hands on your hips.

The tears that had left you threatened to return again.

And he tells you everything. From the conversation he overheard to how insistently Concubine Jung asked him for a child to how much solid proof he'd collected over the months and how he'd sent those evidences to the Minister of Security, who in turn ensured that by tomorrow the Jungs will out of the palace and be imprisoned for life.

It all makes sense to you now, of course it does. Yet you feel guilty. He'd been trying to protect you, all this while.

"I'm sorry, Changbin. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions. I only-"

"Don't apologize, y/n. It's me that should apologize. I should have somehow tried to contact you and tell you about everything. I'm-"

"No, no, Please. Don't. You only tried to protect me and-"

"No, y/n, it's all my fault, please-"

Somi overhears the entire conversation through the door, her mind finally relaxing after the misunderstanding had been solved between you and the King. She could no longer stand you being this sad. And she somehow knew King Changbin had his own reasons for his behavior.

She hears soft sounds of kissing through the door and takes it as a sign to move away from the door, and join the other maids waiting outside the palace door. She smiles to herself.

The butterflies burn with passion.

"I do not wish for a child this early. I want to be here like this with you for a while, just y/n and Changbin and maybe two or three years later, we could try for a child. What do you think?"

When he kissed you initially, you half expected this to end up in the bed. But it did. And you're glad it did.

The butterflies bloom more than ever.

You're wrapped in his arms, tightly. The nakedness no longer bothering the either of you.

"I agree. I want to be this close to you every night, not as a Queen or the mother of your child. But as y/n. As your wife."

Changbin draws his face closer to you, pecking you on the lips, "And so you shall, my love."

And so you shall.

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heathersdesk · 3 months

Text

The Relationship between the LDS Church, Palestine, and Israel

I have a confession to make. As a younger person, I was obsessed with Elder Jeffrey R. Holland.

"You and every Millennial."

NO. You don't understand. This went beyond "Neat, his talk is up next. He always does a good job. Let me tune back in to this two hour long meeting." This was a parasocial, fandom level, ADHD-fueled special interest that amounted to a kind of hero worship I can't fully explain now, other than to say I outgrew it. I had every talk of his that he had ever given that was available online on my various devices I had in college and would listen to them regularly. I knew them so well I could quote them in entire sections. One of my roommates met him in Southern Utah and got one of my books signed for me, and I cried when she gave it to me. I met him once at a Mark Twain performance (one of his favorite authors and the subject of his study as a student) at Sundance and I wasn't normal about it at all.

Elder Holland had a fan with Swiftie-levels of intensity in 2009, and it was me. It's deeply embarrassing to admit this, but it's crucial to understanding why I know the things I'm about to tell you.

Before Elder Holland became an apostle, he was the president of Brigham Young University. During his tenure, he entered into negotiations with Israel to build the Jerusalem Center, the extension of BYU's campus in the Holy Land. He raised $100 million for its construction. This required buy-in not only from church leadership and donors in the US, but the cooperation of the Israeli government. This was how he ended up winning the Torch of Liberty award from the Anti-Defamation League of B'nai Brith. He was effective enough at building bridges between Latter-day Saints and Jews and the other communities in Jerusalem, he got people to open their checkbooks to pay for the facility that would be dedicated to building that interfaith understanding and cooperation into the future. Finished in 1989, it's one of the most important contributions to the Church in Elder Holland's legacy.

The Jerusalem Center exists because of Elder Holland. How well he handled its formation, in my opinion, is how he ended up becoming a Seventy, followed by the call to become an Apostle in 1994.

The Jerusalem Center was constructed on what used to be Palestinian land. The Church is aware of that fact and makes restitution for it in the form of student scholarships to Palestinian students. Sahar Qumsiyeh, a professor at BYU-Idaho, was formerly a Palestinian Christian. She was introduced to the Church and joined because she received one of these scholarships.

The Jerusalem Center became a real turning point in the Church's relationship with Israel and Palestine because they have strong, close partnerships with individuals and groups who identify with each group. They have sent humanitarian aid many times over years, and have committed to doing so now. I trusted that would be the case.

I do highly encourage you to read the links above, but the TL;DR version is that the Church got fully engaged in helping Palestinian refugees for the first time in 2006. I've given you multiple links for a reason, so you can see the way LDS attitudes to this conflict between Israel and Palestine have been evolving and changing over time. The rejections of Israeli violence and support for Palestine today are not new. They've been going on in the LDS Church for almost two decades now. The Church maintains the campus in Jerusalem specifically to expand our peoples' perspectives and understanding of that conflict, specifically so they won't unconditionally side with Israel and support everything they do. And that's not my interpretation. That's what one of the instructors who taught at the Jerusalem Center said of the program there.

While some Latter-day Saints have adopted unconditional support of Israel because of the influence of their allegiance with the Republican party, it's not a position that's endorsed by the Church. It's a position the Church has made deliberate efforts to undermine with the resources available to them on multiple fronts. In education through the Jerusalem Center, in humanitarian aid to Palestinians, in messaging from General Conference, and in their PR campaigns like "I Was a Stranger," church leadership (and, one could argue, God) has been trying to challenge Latter-day Saints to develop a more unconditional love that embraces the entire human family, not just those who are politically convenient to us in our current loyalties.

So when the Church made their statement regarding the outbreak of the Israel Hamas War, people criticized it for not saying enough. It didn't give the information that people wanted: what the Church's response was going to look like, how it would impact church members in the region, and what precautions the Church was going to take to protect them. Because the statement was given on October 12th, the answers to those questions weren't really known. But there was an additional question people wanted answered: Whose side is the Church on? They wanted the strongest possible condemnation, some in favor of Israel, and some in favor of Palestine, depending on what their political alignments were. And I will say those people missed the point. They didn't have the knowledge base of the Church's relationship to the Middle East to properly understand the statement.

The Church didn't "pick a side" in this conflict because of the longstanding relationships the institution has with both Israelis and Palestinians. No human life in that war is more or less valuable to them based on their ethnic background or national origin. To expect the Church to choose sides demonstrates a total lack of understanding of what the Church's goals are with their presence in the Middle East: getting people to recognize the value in interfaith relationships and developing love that rejects politically manufactured enmity.

If you're demanding the Church to pick sides in conflicts based on your political alignments, you're allowing the process of politically motivated dehumanization to cloud your judgement. You're asking them to choose an enemy, which couldn't be further from what the Church is supposed to do in this situation. The statement reflects a refusal to choose sides by condemning one thing, in the strongest language I've ever seen any modern church leader use: Violence.

All violence, no matter who enacts it or for what purpose, is "abhorrent" in the sight of God. That's what the statement said. Think about the implications of that statement. If a person is doing violence, they cannot please God. Those who please God cannot do violence.

Think about the longstanding relationships the Church has with civic leaders in Israel. Think about the fact that this statement was given on the 12th of October, before Israel's offensive even began. It would have been so easy for the Church to condemn terrorism in that moment instead of violence, but that's not what they did. They stated their commitment to care for Israelis and Palestinians in the coming conflict, drawing a line in the sand—prophetically, if I may add. I fully believe that the strength of the language of this statement anticipates how extreme the Israeli response has been, which the Church condemned before it began.

One of the unfortunate side effects of being terminally online and fluent only in American politics is that a statement like the one the Church gave reads to some as saying passively "all lives matter." That's not what was happening here. There was a reason I gasped when I read the statement and thought to myself "Woooow. They're big mad."

I studied Public Relations in college. Lying is the dumbest approach you can take as a PR strategy. It squanders good will, destroys your authority, and doesn't accomplish any organizational goals long term. A better strategy is to say exactly what you mean in the fewest words possible, and let people identify the implications for themselves. Only those who are truly invested in your message will understand everything you said without you having to say it.

The Church's statement was all but a slap in the face to the Israeli and US governments, telling them that God rejects them for bringing this violence into the world. They will not enjoy his protection while this violence continues. It also stands to reason that any other nation that assists Israel with their campaign of death and destruction will also stand condemned by God.

Church leadership, in partnership with PR, isn't going to say that part out loud. But they'll imply the hell out of it. Working in PR is operating on Jane Austen levels of subtext. I wish more people understood that so they could enjoy moments like this when the Church throws shade.

#mormon #lds #mormonism #tumblrstake #the church of jesus christ of latter day saints #palestine #israel

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runningmunson · 2 years

Text

Catch Me First

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader Word Count: 1.3k Summary: After playing a drinking game with Aegon, you are so drunk you don't even recognize Aemond. Leave it to him to take care of you for the night despite that proving to be a challenge. Warnings: mentions of drinking/drunk reader, swearing

Masterlist

You couldn’t remember why you agreed to it in the first place. Maybe it was because you saw Aemond way too close to some lady earlier, or perhaps because of the nasty letter your mother had sent. Regardless of the reason, you were currently drunker than you had ever been after agreeing to a drink off with Aegon.

Aemond, on the other hand, had been looking for you for over an hour, knowing the hour was getting late, and he wished to bid you goodnight. After asking several people, a servant finally let him know you were in one of the smaller halls with his brother.

He walked into the room to find you sitting on the floor with a cup in your hand and wine spilled all over your dress. Aegon sat in a chair, nursing his own cup. Helaena was even in the room working on a new needlepoint spider but looked rather uncomfortable.

“What in the seven hells is going on here?” He questioned the both of you. The new voice in the room caused you and Helaena to jump.

“Drinking, of course. You should join us!! Though I do believe your betrothed is far too gone to enjoy herself any longer,” Aegon threw his head back and laughed. The wine sloshed over the sides as he took another drink.

Aemond stood there glaring at his brother, crossing his arms behind his back. He took a deep breath, trying to control his anger, “I don’t expect much from you, brother. But I expect you to have the decency to not drag her into your foolish ways.”

“Oh, this was all her. I merely suggested a little game,” Aegon pointed to you and smirked.

Aemond ignored him and walked toward you to help you off the floor. When his arms connected with yours and pulled you up, you tried to pull away in protest.

“Let go of me! You do know who my betrothed is, do you not? Prince Aemond will have your head for laying a hand on me!” You screamed at him, swatting his hand away. He looked at you confused before it clicked. You were so drunk you didn’t even recognize him.

Aegon’s eyes went wide and burst into laughter; his cup fell with a clang to the ground. “She doesn’t know who you are? Oh, this is too great!”

“We are leaving. Now,” he commanded. He grabbed your arm with moderate force and pulled you out of the room in search of your own. The whole time you were walking you struggled against his grip and threatened that he would regret doing this to you.

When you were almost to your room, you spotted Ser Criston. You frantically tried to get his attention, “Ser Criston! Please! I need your help!”

He walked over to where you and Aemond stood. Criston took in your disheveled appearance and Aemond’s now tight grip on your arm to keep you from running. He raised his eyebrow and looked toward the prince.

“I need help this instant! I don’t know who this man is, and he won’t let go of me!” You cried out.

“Just ignore her. She’s drunk, no thanks to my idiot brother,” Aemond said through gritted teeth.

“My lady, this is the prince,” Criston tried to hold back a smile, knowing Aemond wouldn’t appreciate someone making fun of you, especially in a moment such as this.

Your eyes went wide as you looked at Criston and then back to Aemond. It was as if they could hear the gears grinding in your head. Well, this man certainly had long silver hair like your betrothed. He wore similar clothing. He had the eyepatch. So it must be him, right?

“Aemond? My gods, am I glad to see you!” You threw your arms around him.

“Ser Criston, if you would excuse us. I need to get my lady to bed,” Aemond gave him a curt nod and received a bow in return. This time you willingly linked your arm with his as he escorted you to your room.

It took twice the time it usually did to reach your room, seeing as he had to make an effort to keep you from stumbling and falling on the ground. He looped his arm around your waist and pushed open your door. You were led to your bed where he gently sat you down.

“It is time for you to go to bed and sleep this off. You are going to feel like shit when morning comes,” he said and went to take your shoes off. He knew he could call your handmaiden to help you undress, but did not want to disturb her this late or make anyone else aware of your inebriated state.

“I need you to stand so I can untie your dress,” he helped you up. Your hand found the bedpost to steady yourself. His fingers hesitantly went to the laces on your dress before getting to work. You looked over your shoulder.

“Are you trying to seduce me, my prince?” You questioned in a sultry voice.

“As much as I desire you, I am not like my brother. I will not take advantage of you in this state,” his cheeks turned a shade of pink. You turned away to pout at his refusal. Your dress fell to the ground, and he helped you step out of it.

Once you were just in your slip, he pulled the blankets back and had you lay down. He tucked you in and turned around for a second to grab you some water. However, when his back was turned, you took this moment to throw the covers off, roll off the bed, and make a dash for the door.

(Y/N)! Get back here right now!” He demanded and ran after you.

“You’ll have to catch me first!” You giggled. You stood behind a chair as he watched you, calculating your next move. He saw you inch toward the right and make your way to the door.

“Oh no, you don’t!” He ran after you and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest.

“No fair, Aemond! You’re much too fast for me,” you pouted. You struggled against him trying to break free, and in the process, you somehow managed to pull his eyepatch off revealing his bare face. Your eyes went wide.

“Woah! That is the prettiest shade of blue I have ever laid my eyes upon,” you said as you admired the sapphire in his eye. This wasn’t the first time you had seen it, but you still found it fascinating.

Your finger slowly reached up to poke at it, but Aemond grabbed your wrist to stop you. He took your moment of distraction to throw you over his shoulder and place you back on your bed to get settled once more. The blankets were thrown over your body and his arm held you down.

“Aemond, I don’t want to go to bed! I want to explore the castle!” You tried to pull his arm off you but stopped once you let out a yawn.

He smirked, “Are you sure about that? You look awfully tired.”

“Maybe I’m a bit tired,” you could feel your eyes grow heavier as the seconds passed. You snuggled further into the bed. You turned your head to look at him and gave him a small smile.

“I love you,” you said to him before drifting off to sleep.

He brushed the hair out of your face and leaned down to press a kiss on your forehead, “and I love you.”

He let go once he felt your body relax and settled down into the chair next to your bed.

You woke up the next morning feeling horrible. Your head was pounding, and your body felt heavy. You looked to your side to find Aemond long gone but saw water and tea at your bedside table. You could almost recall a faint ‘I love you’ that came from his lips last night but perhaps that was only a dream.

—

Taglist: @cullenswife , @wrendermeuseless , @darylandbethfanforever9

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #hotd imagine #hotd #house of the dragon x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond x reader

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ms-fandomgirl · 4 months

Text

BBHG: Okayu (Ch. 6)

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Words: 3,581

Summary: A chance encounter in the Shibuya Train Station leaves you with a sore shoulder and a mysterious bento box. You’re willing to write the incident off and move on, otherwise preoccupied with navigating a new city and a new job, but a bombastic blond, meddling friend, and fate itself seem to have other plans.

Genre: Pro Hero AU, fluff, strangers to lovers, medical setting

Links: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist | Cross-posted on Ao3!

Warning: Sickness (not life threatening)

Okayu - A simple Japanese rice porridge made of only water and rice. Known as a healing food, it is a staple to serve when someone is sick as the mild porridge is both easy on the stomach and supposed to restore energy.

Previously…

“Did I die and go to heaven? Because you look like an angel.”

The voice was weak, barely a whisper, but it sent a shock through the room nonetheless. It wasn’t Bakugou who had said that terrible pickup line, and it certainly wasn’t yourself.

You pivoted on your heel so quickly that you almost fell over, gripping the side of the bed for stability. Bakugou was just as fast, appearing at the bedside in an instant. You peered down with your mouth slightly open in awe, and electrifying yellow eyes stared right back at you.

Pro-Hero Chargebolt was awake.

He grinned up at you despite his weak state, relentless and seemingly oblivious as to why you had yet to say a word. His eyes darted over to Bakugou, and his smile broadened as he directed his next words toward the stricken blond.

“You look a little pale right now, Bakubro. Maybe you need some vitamin me in your life to feel better.”

Bakugou spluttered in indignation, opening his mouth to no doubt berate his friend, but another voice beat him to it.

“I can’t believe the first thing I hear after waking up in this hospital is your cringe pickup lines, bro.”

You snapped your head over toward the other side of the room, eyes widening as you took in a groggy Red Riot crossing his arms in his bed.

“Kirishima!” Bakugou cried, immediately making his way over to him.

“Oh, so he gets a ‘Kirishima’ but I don’t even get a response to my amazing opener? What am I, chopped liver?” Chargebolt grumbled.

Without missing a beat, Bakogou responded. “Yes.”

“Rude, bro. So rude.” He turned to you then, lowering his voice as though he was confiding in an old friend. “If I’d known this is the welcome I’d get, I might as well pass out again.”

You reached out to touch his forehead on instinct, glancing at the monitor beside him as you did so. “You don’t actually feel like you are going to, do you?”

He chucked at your reaction, slightly shaking his head before wincing. “Well, I feel like I got slammed into a building, but other than that I’m just peachy. I don’t really remember how I got here though. Could you help me out, beautiful?”

You nodded over to Red Riot, catching his eye before beginning your explanation. As he turned your way, you subtly reached toward the pager clipped into your pants, pressing the button on the side of it before focusing your attention on the boys once again.

“Both of you were attacked during a public hero parade about two weeks ago by a villain, now dubbed ‘Basilisk’ by the media. His quirk allows him to inject unknown toxins within his victims which, at the very least, cause the body to shut down into a coma. However, more recent attacks have caused more severe symptoms, such as seizures and vomiting.”

The two heroes stared at you in shock, not quite believing the news you dropped on them. They briefly glanced at Bakugou, who agreed with your summary. It was then that the weight of the situation fully sunk in, and the room was left in a heavy silence. In fact, it was so silent that you easily heard the patter of footsteps rapidly echoing down the hallway. The door burst open, revealing a flustered Dr. Hiyashi.

“What’s wrong?” he gasped. Four pairs of eyes stared back at him.

“Ah.” He straightened his coat, donning a professional demeanor before slowly walking into the room. “Pro Heroes Red Riot and Chargebolt, let me first offer you my sincerest relief that you are awake.”

Red Riot and Chargebolt accepted his statement graciously, although you noticed Chargebolt suppressing a chuckle at the doctor’s dramatic entrance.

“How are your memories? Do you know how you got here?” he asked.

Chargebolt answered first.

“Nurse-” he paused for a second, eyes filled with guilt as he realized he had no clue what your name was. You laughed it off, softly telling it to him so he could continue once he repeated it. “-filled us in on the situation. I can’t really remember much of the parade or how I got injected unfortunately, but I remember everything leading up to it.”

“Good, good.” He turned to you then, addressing you directly. “I contacted Hina to let her know of this new development. She should be here shortly, but-”

He paused his sentence to look at you, really look at you, and you felt like an organism squirming under a microscope. You straightened your spine, but you knew for a fact that you hadn’t fixed your hair since the park, and you belatedly wondered if your face was still puffy from your breakdown earlier.

“You’ve had a big day. I think you should go home for the afternoon.” His voice was gentle, taking on almost a paternal tone. You would have been mildly offended if you weren’t so exhausted.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to make things more difficult-” you began, but a gruff voice interrupted your weak protest.

“You should go. You look dead on your feet.”

You glared at Bakugou, but his gaze remained firm as he stared you down. Sensing that this was a fight you wouldn’t win, you looked away, shrugging your shoulders lightly. You had to admit, now that the adrenaline of Chargebolt’s awakening had worn off, you were left feeling even more tired than before. As Bakugou’s friends began to heckle him about his rough words, you turned to Dr. Hiyashi, thanking him for the opportunity.

You were just wondering how you could quietly leave when Hina, your savior once again, walked through the door with an anxious Suneater behind her. Taking the opportunity, you managed to slip behind them as Dr. Hiyashi filled her in on the situation. You tried to be relatively sneaky in the transition, but if you had turned around, you would have noticed a pair of ruby eyes trailing you until you shut the door behind you.

When you finally made it home, you were barely able to change out of your work clothes before collapsing onto your bed. The beginnings of a headache pressed against your forehead, and even the diffused light of your room felt too bright for your eyes. Certain that a nap would fix your problems, you easily drifted to sleep.

However, when you woke up at dusk, the weariness hadn’t gone away.

In fact, everything had gotten worse. Your favorite soft blanket was shoved to the far side of the bed, its presence creating a constrictive furnace with the heat radiating off of your body despite the chills running up and down your arms. The small headache had turned painful, your skull feeling like it was being split in two as you curled up into a miserable ball on your bed. You knew you needed to go to the bathroom to break out your ibuprofen, take your temperature, and grab a cold rag, but the thought of moving made you shudder, the task insurmountable.

Instead, you pulled out your phone, first texting Hina about your situation and then Shiozaki. The action was small, but it had cost you a large amount of energy. You let your phone slip out of your grasp as you collapsed back onto the bed, hearing the small chime of a new notification but not bothering to respond. You had begun drifting off into a slight doze when a sudden noise startled you awake.

Knock.

Your eyes shot to your door, but your body refused to move even an inch. You let out a unintelligible groan in form of greeting, and the person seemed satisfied at your response. A slight shuffling could be hold, and the clink of something ceramic against hardwood, and then silence once again descended around you.

Somehow, you eventually found it within yourself to shuffle over to the door, carefully opening it to reveal your offering: a packet of rice crackers, a bottle of water, a thermometer, and a bottle of ibuprofen. Meager fare, but you were extremely grateful for anything that would save you an extra trip outside of your room.

Returning to the comfort of your bed, you went for the thermometer first, sticking it into your mouth quickly to read out the inevitable results. While it loaded, you fished out your phone to send a quick text of thanks to Shiozaki. At this point, you knew she would be out of the apartment and checked into a hotel, so this would be your last contact with her before the message proclaiming you better. She had a fear about getting sick, which you had learned very quickly upon getting the flu after moving in. You were just thankful she had been willing to help you before fleeing.

The electric beep of the thermometer pulled you from your thoughts, and you grimaced as you read 101.2 degrees Fahrenheit. Expected, but definitely not good. You turned your attention toward the ibuprofen next, popping two in your mouth quickly followed by a large gulp of water. After all but inhaling the crackers, you settled down once again, content to stare at the ceiling as you let your drowsiness overtake you, this time hopefully to carry you through the night.

The good news was that you slept through the night, morning, and well into the afternoon. The bad news was that your whole body felt sore, and you thought you might be dying soon, if not from illness then from the commotion outside your door. The voices were indistinguishable through the walls of your apartment, but they were increasing in volume and based on the intermittent bangs on your front door, you were pretty sure they were aimed at you.

Fumbling around in your nest of blankets, you grabbed your phone as quickly as you could before slipping down to the floor and crawling your way into the closet. Sure, you were on the twelfth floor, but people could fly these days, and in your fever-addled brain, this seemed like the smartest option. Swiping your phone open, you immediately began dialing the police, only to pause before clicking the call button. What if you were blowing things out of proportion? What if you were hallucinating? But you still wanted someone to check on you; someone who would be able to take a fight if necessary too. You clicked out of the keypad, thumb scrolling through your contacts until it landed on your person of choice.

The phone only rang once before he picked up.

“It’s about damn time you answered your phone,” Bakugou snapped.

“Bakugou, you’ve got to help me,” you whispered, ignoring his greeting. “There’s someone banging on my apartment door and I think they’re out to get me.”

“Huh?” Bakugou exclaimed, sounding genuinely taken aback. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“There’s someone trying to Break. Into. My. Apartment.”

“What-no there’s not!”

You groaned in frustration. “And how would you know that? I know what I’m hearing!”

“And I know what I’m seeing!” he argued. “The only people in this hallway are me and an old lady in a bathrobe.”

“How dare you have the gall-” a shrill voice cut through the speaker, and you froze. You knew that voice. It was your crabby neighbor, Mrs. Fukigen, who would bang on the wall if you even vacuumed too late in the day. And wait, did he just say that he was in the hallway? That statement, plus his strange greeting, finally helped you connect the dots. You quickly swiped over to your unread messages for confirmation, only to see fifteen unread notifications.

Oh no.

Ice ran through your veins, but for a completely different reason now than before. You no longer feared a home invasion, but you did fear whatever Mrs. Fukigen and Bakugou could get up to if they were left alone any longer. You didn’t know what types of hero codes of ethics Bakugou was bound to, but you could easily see a world where Bakugou would swing on an old lady, especially one like Mrs. Fukigen who even made you daydream of resorting to violence from time to time.

You shot to your feet in a panic, which proved to be a very big mistake as you stumbled into the wall. Nevertheless, you persisted, making your way to the door as quickly as you could. After all, the fate of your apartment complex depended on it.

Finally making it to the door, you wrenched it open, only to be greeted with the sight of Mrs. Fukigen’s bony finger pointed centimeters from Bakugou’s nose. At the sound, both parties stopped their fighting in order to gape at you. It was only then in the sudden silence that you realized how you must have looked: disheveled clothes, messy hair, and on death’s doorstep.

Immediately Mrs. Fukigen retracted as though she had been attacked, hands covering her mouth and nose as she backed away towards her door. All notions of arguing abandoned at your appearance.

“Stay back now,” she snapped at you, as though you were no longer her neighbor but some diseased final boss. “And open your windows, while you’re at it. I can’t afford to catch whatever illness you have through the vents.”

And with that closing statement, the door to her apartment slammed shut.

Now, only Bakugou remained, taking in your state wearily as you leaned against the door for support. However, unlike Mrs. Fukigen, he was a hero, not a coward. Instead of commenting on your appearance, as you were expecting him to do, he merely held up a large brown paper sack as a peace offering.

“Can I come in?”

You shrugged, stepping back into your apartment.

“At your own risk.”

He huffed out a laugh, crossing the threshold without hesitation. You should have asked him why he was here. Even better, you should have asked him how he knew where you lived. But just having that brief interaction at the doorway of your apartment had winded you, so you instead curled up into the corner of your couch, peering at him as he sauntered around your kitchen like he owned it.

“Bowls?” he asked, opening cabinets and drawers at random.

“Cabinet to the left of the stove,” you supplied.

He nodded in satisfaction as he continued whatever mission he had set his mind to. You reached behind you, wrapping yourself in the dark green woven throw on the back of the couch. The room filled with silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, it felt surprisingly natural, Bakugou’s presence having blended naturally into the atmosphere of your home instead of invading it, as so many might assume. The low whir of the microwave provided a gentle white noise that had your head nodding, and it wasn’t until a gentle prod of your shoulder that you realized you had fallen asleep.

“Here, eat this.”

Bakugou’s manners were as lacking as ever, but the food on the tray he had thrust in front of you more than made up for it. Two steaming bowls paired with a mug of matcha made your previously uneasy stomach rumble in hunger. The larger bowl was filled with a golden miso soup, cubes of soft tofu and delicate pieces of torn seaweed floating in the broth to create a mouthwatering aroma. The other bowl held a simple okayu, although the slightly congealed state of the rice told you that it had been cooked to perfection.

Your arms shot out faster than you could think, only for Bakugou to quickly back away in response.

“Are you crazy? You’ll spill everything on yourself if you move like that,” he snapped.

You weren’t sure whether he was more concerned for you or the food, but he did have a good point regardless. You settled back into the couch, patting your lap for him to set the tray onto. He eyed you apprehensively, as though you were playing a trick on him, before carefully setting the tray on you.

As expected, the food was absolutely delicious. You blamed your semi-delirious state for the moan that escaped your lips after your first bite. You sheepishly glanced at Bakugou who rolled his eyes at your display, although you swore his cheeks were slightly pink.

“Out of all of the food I cook you, this is your favorite?” he grumbled, although it wasn’t truly a complaint.

You cracked a small smile, eyes closing in satisfaction as you spooned down more of the okayu. “What can I say? I’m a simple woman.”

He scoffed in agreement. “Apparently so. I barge into your apartment in the middle of the day, and you don’t at least question it a little? A normal person with a brain would wonder how I got here.”

You shrugged, unaffected by his small jab. “I figured you probably got the address from Shiozaki, or maybe even Hina. Or through your super secret hero files.”

It seemed logical to you, but the stunned expression and slight part of his lips painted a clear picture of Bakugou’s shock.

“And you don’t care?”

“Why would I?” you questioned back. “At this point, I’d hope to have at least considered us friends. But the real question I want to know is why you’re here, not how.”

The words sat heavy in the room, so much so that you almost regretted saying them. Bakugou had kept the conversation lighthearted until now, and you felt like a fool for ruining it. Yet you were curious, and that curiosity only grew as you watched his response. His eyebrows drew close in concentration, and it took several times of his mouth opening and closing before words were eventually forced out.

“It was my turn.”

You tilted your head, urging him to continue with a wave of your spoon.

“Today was my turn to make lunch, but when I showed up at the hospital, you weren’t there. I found your nurse buddy and she told me you were out, so I adjusted accordingly.”

You gave him an incredulous stare. “You hunt down my address, make me homemade miso soup and okayu, and brave Mrs. Fukigen all to stick to routine?”

He glared at you, and you playfully stuck your tongue out in response.

“And here I thought it was because you cared,” you joked.

But Bakugou didn’t laugh. Instead, he turned his face away and began mumbling out a string of half-hearted insults. Yet it was unmistakable now: the blush you thought you saw earlier now extended to the tips of his ears, growing in intensity as you couldn’t contain your giggles at the state of him. He lightly shoved your shoulder in an attempt to get you to stop, but it only made things worse. His petulance and pouty demeanor was the funniest thing you had ever seen in your state of sickness, and it wasn’t until you were gasping for air that you were finally able to settle down.

“You done?” he grumbled, although you could tell from the sparkle in his eye that he wasn’t truly angry at all.

You nodded, both in regard to your meal and your hysterics, shoving the tray in his general direction. He shook his head as he retrieved it, but he dutifully took your dishes to the sink. You stared unabashedly as he did so, marveling at the fact that Pro-Hero Dynamight was currently washing your dishes. It sounded so absurd, yet at the same time, it made complete sense. Maybe it was because you had only ever seen him as “good-smelling asshole” or Bakugou, but you much preferred this version of him to whatever was projected on the news channels.

The tap shut off with a soft click, and the room was once again blanketed in a soft silence that made your eyelids begin to droop. You hadn’t realized you had curled up onto the couch until your head rested on the arm rest, and you hadn’t realized your eyes had closed until a warm palm pressed against your forehead.

“Still got a bit of a fever,” Bakugou tsked.

“Feel better though,” you muttered in response, quickly fading like the rays of orange sunlight illuminating the apartment. “Thank you.”

You heard an affirmation, and then silence, before two strong arms wrapped around you, pulling both you and your blanket up into the air. Fully-conscious you might have screamed, both out of surprise or embarrassment, but semi-conscious was completely focused in on the warm that radiated from the chest you were gathered into. You were further pleased to note that the scent of warm caramel and expensive smelling cologne only strengthened as you burrowed deeper in your makeshift cocoon, resting your head on his chest. Just as you had settled in, the short trip was over, and you were being gingerly set on your bed.

“I’ll be back tomorrow, so you better open your door this time.”

Your eyes squinted open, taking in his broad silhouette in the doorway. A sleepy reply slipped from your lips before you could even think about it, quiet yet full of confidence that left no room for doubt.

“Always.”

A/N: I bet you thought I had given up! I'm sorry it's taken so long, but life got super busy, and I also took a breather from writing for a bit as I focused on other projects. However, what I said in the beginning still stands: I will finish this story. Thank you so much to everyone who has stuck with me so far, and welcome to any new readers!

As always, reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated, but please do not repost here or on other platforms. However, fan arts, edits, or anything like that are beyond amazing and totally welcome! If you have a question about it, just ask me.

Tag List: @lavender99, @gold24fish, @bqkuho3, @satorulicious, @cringeycookies, @summrwalkr, @nyxmania, @poopoobuttsy, @st1rvoid, @kitzusune, @nindevorak, @stxrrielle, @cax-per, @kisskissshutmydoor, @kazuumii, @nnubee, @neutralevilxx, @idk-sam, @berryvioo, @hoothootreiber, @sikuthealien, @boopjuice, @crazypersonrandom, @aecarstairs, @andysdrafts, @xenasolos, @dndmell,

If you would like to be added to the tag list, let me know in the comments! Also, if the tag list DIDN'T work, please let me know as well. I think I figured out the problem, but we'll see. Hyperlinks are not my specialty.

#ms fandomgirl writes #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katuski #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #bbhg #bakugou fanfiction

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lizzy019 · 3 months

Text

𝒩𝑜 𝑀𝑜𝒹𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓎.

Darrel Curtis x Bimbo!Fem!Reader [Reader is a Soc]

cw -> dirty talk, breast play, p in a, hitting

Word Count -> 1.1K

No because why is this request giving my ovulating brain such DIRTY IDEAS? Hope you enjoy it!

$136.32

That was how much money you wanted to squeeze out of him.

The numbers that were counted made Darry’s mind almost combust into flames when he heard that high amount, and simply for two dresses and a few pairs of heels?

But then he looked over at your smile, the way your lips curled so happily when you offered he didn’t have to pay if he couldn't. So with a tap of your card, the money was sent through and your bag of new items was handed to you.

A big smile widened on your face as you linked arms with him and hurried out. You were so happy!

“Darry, Darry, do you think I could show my dresses to you when we get back to your place? Pleeease?” You whined out, bottom lip jutting forward in a soft plea.

Darry didn’t know why you were begging, he’d say yes anytime and wouldn't turn any offer down when it came to you. So he swiftly nodded his head, kissing your cheek as you two made your way back to his car.

A frilly pink dress with white bow straps to hold it up on your shoulders was presented to Darry.

Breasts barely contained in the fabric, and hips expanding the dress, you looked as if you were straight from a porn movie. It had him drooling from the sight.

However, your obliviousness and ditzy attitude paid no mind to his eyes, simply spinning around and enjoying the dress.

“What’d ya think? Do you like it? I like it! Or maybe it’s too tight? Do you think so? Oh, of course you do, what was I thinking? I’m so dumb!” You moved on too fast, lamenting the fact that you thought Darry didn’t like it simply because you rushed to a random point.

This jolted him out of his trance, and his hands came to your waist in assurance.

“No no, the dress is nice on ya. Makes your figure look fuller, sweetie. It looks good.” He consoled you, gently brushing your hair from your face and pulling you into a light hug.

Oh God, he could feel your breasts pressing against him. All big and warm, soft and squishy against his torso.

He tried to pay no mind to it, trying to be a respectful gentleman and keep his hands to himself. But you were just so adamant on staying in his hug that eventually he couldn’t take it.

Darry’s hands very slowly moved to your dress’ zipper, trying not to alarm you before he zipped it off and wriggled it off of you faster than you could react. A yelp escaped you from being bare to him.

“You wanna dress up and pose like a slut, huh? Wanna make me look bad in front of everyone, no modesty or anythin’. You dirty whore.” His hand shoved your back into the bed, ass up in the air.

The words brought tears to your doe-like eyes, a look of apology crossing over your expression. How foolish of you to assume that such a weepy expression would get Darry to retract his words and apologize.

No.. no, you were very wrong.

A harsh, almost brutal smack was collided to the fat of your ass as he whipped his cock out from his jeans, desperately fondling with the belt before he kept it secure in his hand to hit you any time you misbehaved or complained.

His length pressed against your puckered hole, slowly pushing the tip in dry until the amount of precum he was oozing was able to act like lube.

Loud cries escaped you, eyes rolled back as you took every merciless thrust of his openly and with great pleasure.

“Darry, Darry! Fuck me, yes!” You cried out, manicured nails clawing at the sheets. Another crack of his belt to your ass was executed, and the feeling had your eyes watering.

“You fuckin’ keep your mouth shut. You better pray.. for your damn ass and for your damn heart that I don’t fuck you into this bloody mattress, ya hear?” He gasped out, relishing in his own pleasure but still maintaining his dominant position.

“And what’re you supposed to call me? It sure ain’t Darry, what is it, sweetheart?” He asked you in an almost malevolent and malicious tone.

“D-daddy! Daddy, ‘m sorry! I’ll be good, please! Want you to make me feel good..!” You mewled, tears soaking the sheets where your face rested.

This time, the belt was thrown to the side, renamed as a problem to deal with later as he grabbed your hips and full on thrusted like a dog in heat.

“You retarded son of a bitch, makin’ a fool of yourself in public. You don’t think others see your damn tits on display? Hell, you could be bare ass naked and everyone would react the same as they do when you’re dressed all skimpy and slutty.” Darry growled out, finding himself chasing his own orgasm.

Your ass hurt from both the slaps and the fact that he was drilling into you, like a damn power drill into concrete.

“Darry, daddy, want you to cum in my ass! I want you to fire babies into my stomach, please!” You cried out, watching him begin to shiver and shake like a leaf in the wind.

Darry simply nodded, giving a few more hard thrusts before releasing all in your wee asshole before collapsing on top of you. And before you knew it, you both had fallen asleep just like that.

Waking up to the sound of rustling fabric, your head turns arduously to see Darry prepping an outfit for you that involved one of your favourite pairs of chunky heels and a dress he chose out for you, as well as jewelry he thought complimented all the other colours before noticing you’ve risen from sleep.

His expression turned fretful, and you noticed the tinge of ignominiousness in his expression.

“Darry? What time is it? What’re you doing?” You asked so softly, so benevolently.

You noticed how he had his work clothes on, and instantly it snapped in your head. All your questions answered. You hobbled up to see the outfit he prepared, a slight wobble from the unholy activities of yesterday.

A pretty lilac dress with off-white heels, silver pendant and earrings to match.

“I wonder why you went for roofing when you could’ve done anything in design.” You chuckled, kissing his cheek and gently rubbing his tricep as he buttoned up his shirt.

“Sweetie, I really gotta run, I’m gonna be late.” He murmured, looking down at you and pressing a kiss back to your forehead before he rushed out.

For the rest of the day, the pain in your rear was a constant reminder that Darry had ruined you wholeheartedly, out of worry and frustration.

This always made you wince, but smile.

#the outsiders smut #smut #x reader #darry curtis x reader #darrel curtis x reader #the outsiders

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exmotranny · 4 months

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the green carpet scratches at your pink heels. bile rises in your throat.

they talk about womanhood- but it’s not quite right. there is the pink and compliments and talk of boys

i am a beloved daughter

but there is also something else. it digs at your flesh, it feasts on your skin. your mother motions at your chest, bigger than hers and you're not even done growing yet! how lucky.

of heavenly parents

you pray to a man every night, finish it in another’s name. on your knees. you were sent a shady link as a kid. the woman on her knees, tears streaming out of her eyes, i don't want this, she said

with a divine nature and eternal destiny

blood on the inside of your underwear. you were told this meant you were a woman now. you were ten years old. what the fuck did you know about being a woman? your mom said you weren’t allowed to touch between your legs, but it's normal to want to. you didn't know what that meant, either.

as a disciple of jesus christ,

you wanted to be desired. you daydreamed of being the trophy for boys around you, of claiming that role one day as a wife. you came from a long line of women married young. you don’t know their names, but you were taught about their husbands in church.

i strive to become like him.

pressing your breasts down as much as possible, trying to give the illusion of a flat chest. badly cropped jpgs of jesus photoshopped to have top surgery scars are the secret currency you pay to get past the hours of church. you hold them like diamonds.

i seek and act upon personal revelation

you thought god was talking to you. you almost threw away everything you owned. you thought you were a prophet. total fuckin’ ego death! holy shit! god speaks through me!

and minister to others in his holy name

and then the next morning. when your faith crashed, when moroni abandoned you, did it feel unreal to you too, joseph?

i will stand as a witness of god

oh god, no. please. i don’t know what’s real anymore.

at all times

leg hair peeking from under your pretty sunday dress. they all stare. you ignore them and open up to D&C 132.

and in all things

emma, did you love him to the end? i don’t think you wanted him. did you watch as he married a 14 year old? did you tell him you burned the commandment? did you cry when he died for the church that he loved more than he loved you?

and in all places.

blood on the floor of carthage jail. this martyr will be remembered forever. do they talk about you, emma? or are you just joseph’s wife?

as i strive to qualify for exaltation,

when i marry, my husband will be a god, and i shall cleave onto him. when i marry, i will go to his universe and bear more of his children.

i cherish the gift of repentance

heads bowed low as the sacrament is passed. my hands clutch onto the bottom of my skirt. pleasure outside celestial marriage is forbidden. i apologize for loving the wrong way.

and seek to improve each day

i tried to kill myself, last time i got home from girl’s camp. i got home and cried and found the pills and shoved them into my mouth until i cried more and more until i was gagging. i hunched over the toilet. my hands on the grimy floor.

with faith, i will

forced to sing in front of the congregation. my head spun from anxiety. my stomach turned with nausea.

strengthen my home and family,

loving wife beautiful kids loyal husband church once a week work weekdays weekend mom monthly round on the business end of his cock forever and the vomit threatens to make an appearance.

make and keep sacred covenants,

an old man is in a room alone with me. he asks me if i masturbate.

and receive the ordinances and blessings

i tell the man no. i receive a card so i can be ordained.

of the holy temple.

that's just how it goes, isn't it?

all around are paintings of god and jesus. we learned about heavenly mother. why don’t i see her in paintings? did god have plural marriages? did heavenly mother make us? why don’t we pray to her? did she watch god marry a 14 year old? did she cover her eyes? when she saw blood on her underwear, was she told she was a woman? did she touch between her legs? did she ever believe herself better than god? does she cry when she cant talk to us? why do i cry? was heavenly mother scared of singing in public and did she press her chest flat and did she cry when god forced himself into her mouth? did she burn his doctrine too?

i am given flowers on mother’s day. i will be one eventually, after all. and i vomit in the church bathroom quietly like the perfect woman i am supposed to be.

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eashn · 2 months

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Hunger | Kuroo Tetsuro Chapter 2

Part 2 of The Train's Coming (masterlist)

Pairing: businessman!Kuroo x fem!reader

Summary: you're colleagues and you're screwin'. Now, it's finally time for you and Kuroo to present your big business proposal to the board.

Ao3 Link | Word count: ~1.8k

Tags/Warnings: Smutty near the end, heated makeout, Kuroo's hard-on, FWB, Timeskip!Kuroo, sexual tension, humor, Ikkei and Keishin Ukai make an appearance, so does Bokuto

“Now that is gutsy, Miss L/N,” Director Nekomata said. You cringed slightly, not sure yet how to take that.

“Gusty!” Washijo bellowed. “They’re trying to poach my job—”

“Tanji,” Director Ukai said, rubbing his wrinkled forehead. “I’m sorry, man. I didn’t want to do it like this.” He sighed. “You’re fired.”

You thought that after almost thirty years as the Head of Sports Promotion at one of the largest companies in the nation, Tanji Washijo would be a bit more well-versed in the art of diplomacy. “Excuse me?!” the man shrieked. You had been wrong.

“This is outrageous!” he cried. “It’s—it’s egregious!”

“Alright, old man, pack it up,” Ukai the younger snarled. Seated beside his uncle at the Board of Directors’ table, his only real job at these meetings was to take notes—but you always liked it when he spoke up. He was funny. “What, do you read a damn thesaurus every morning before walking in here?”

You made the mistake of glancing over at Kuroo. The eye contact almost sent you both cracking up, but you averted your gaze frantically, reigning it in. He clasped a hand tightly over his mouth, furrowing his brows like he was observing the situation in front of him with dire concern.

“Decades!” Washijo hollered. “Three decades I’ve been a diligent employee at this company, and now this—” he pointed accusingly at Ukai Junior “—delinquent! Thinks he can talk back to me?!”

“What did you call me?” Keishin leapt to his feet, banging a fist on the table.

“Oh, for God’s sake—security!” Ukai Senior roared. He grabbed his nephew by the collar, yanking him down to his seat. Two burly-looking security guards walked in, and Ikkei turned tiredly to them. “Please. Help Tanji back to his desk,” he said. “And get him, I dunno, a box or something for his belongings.”

“A box or something—!”

“Right away, sir,” interjected one of the guards, a broad man with spiky gray-and-black hair. The dude glanced at Kuroo for a second, and suddenly you remembered: that was Kotarou Bokuto, Kuroo’s friend from high school.

“Preposterous!” Washijo cried. “I thought we were friends, Ikkei! This—this is asinine!”

“Jesus,” Keishin muttered.

“I won’t forget this! After years of service for this company—!”

“Alright, big guy,” Kotarou said, placing a firm hand on the man’s shoulder. He and the other guard began walking him to the door. Right before he left, he turned furtively to Kuroo, and you caught him whisper, “Good luck with all this, man.”

“Thanks, Ko,” Kuroo mumbled, utterly in shock.

And so, security marched Tanji Washijo, the former Head of Promotion—kicking and screaming—out the conference room door. For a few moments, the rest of the Board looked on with unease. Someone fiddled with his collar, another tapped his pen nervously against the table. Then, they turned their attention onto you two. The presumptive new Heads of Promotion. They appraised you carefully, sizing you up in that condescending, corporate way. Only Nekomata smiled at you.

“Excellent work on your proposal, once again!” he said serenely.

You smiled nervously at the tranquil old man. “Thank you, sir.”

“Thank you,” Kuroo echoed, and when you glanced over you saw his matching smile—that blinding, charismatic smile. In classic fashion, he’d shaken off his stupor in record speed. Kuroo always lands on his feet, you thought, grinning a little wider as you snuck another look at him. Dear God, he looked good in that jacket.

“Agreed,” Ukai Senior said. “Mr. Kuroo, Miss L/N, you’ve both shown promising work in all your time here. I’m truly pleased.” Your heart warmed at that—it meant so much coming from him. Ukai was undoubtedly tougher than Nekomata, ten times harder to impress. You thought of all the sleepless nights you and Kuroo had put into this project, and you simmered with pride. It finally felt like it’d all been worth it.

“We need young blood like you leading this company,” he continued.

Your breath caught. You felt Kuroo’s eyes shift to yours for a second, but you didn’t dare return the look. Not now.

“I’m completely in favor of instating you both as the next co-Heads of Promotion,” Ukai said. You thought you might die right there on the conference room floor.

“I’ll second that!” Nekomata announced.

“I’ll third it,” Ukai Junior agreed. He winked good-naturedly at the two of you.

“Shut up, Keishin,” said Ikkei.

“Oh, fuck you, old man.”

And before you even knew what was happening, the meeting was over. The Board members were all on their feet and milling about the room, buzzing with arbitrary conversation—none of which really registered in your mind. A few people came over to shake your hand or to clap Kuroo on the shoulder, and you let it all happen by default. Your brain was as good as boiled cabbage right now. You were the Head of Promotion. You felt like throwing up. In a good way, though. Definitely in a good way.

You didn’t know how you wound up back at your old shared cubicle with Kuroo. Nekomata was having you both gather your things to shift them into a shiny new office, so, in a daze, you collected your belongings, unstuck your dozens of post-it notes from around your desk, and were just about to leave the cramped old place behind. Kuroo, however, hesitated by the window. A ghost of a smile flickered on his face as he gazed out that shitty, tiny window, out toward the skyline beyond. The day was almost over, and the city lights were beginning to come alive.

“I know it’s cliché,” he said, “but I’m really gonna miss this view.”

“Yeah? Wait till you see the view from our new office.”

“Sure, but…just c’mere for a sec.” Some unidentifiable emotion rippled across his face as he beckoned you over. You complied, puzzled. “Look,” he said, pointing down onto the street. “Over on that side. That’s—”

“Miya’s Noodle Shop!” you realized, laughing. “I never knew you could see it from here. Do you remember—”

“The first time we went to lunch together?” Kuroo said. “‘Course I do.” You looked up at him, catching the way he gazed down at the shop fondly. “Those first few months, I thought I’d never make a friend in this city. Then you came along.”

Oh, man. After everything that’d already happened today, Kuroo had to go ahead and do this—make you all sappy and emotional in a way that was definitely unbecoming of a brand-new manager. You gazed at his peaceful expression, noticing the glazed look behind his eyes: his only indication that he was reeling, too. He, too, was in utter disbelief that you’d finally, finally made it here. And then he went ahead and got all mushy on you, somehow echoing the exact sentiment you’d thought this morning on the train. Life was so lonely before you.

“You haven’t stopped taking the train since.” You smirked at him, letting an edge of teasing into your voice. “Am I your only friend, Kuroo?”

He whirled. Jaw tense, brows drawn tight, he leveled you with a piercing stare. His face was dead serious when he replied, “You’re the only one that counts.”

About two years ago, you threw caution to the wind and accepted a job offer in a new city. Thus began almost two years of a breakneck routine: waking up at ungodly hours, primping yourself up for the day, and dragging yourself to the station, only to wait in silence by the tracks as the train took its sweet time to arrive. Like everything else about your life, the mornings had become all about hustle. You were running to catch the train, running to finish all your assignments, running on precious little to keep yourself awake and alive. It was the nature of the job, unfortunately. You got used to it.

But after all this time, you had finally realized an integral thing: the work could only satisfy you so much. This promotion was everything you had wanted—you were nothing short of thrilled. Yet you knew that, like any drug, success has a shelf-life. Your body metabolizes that thrill, over and over and over again, until it doesn’t quite hit you the same way anymore. In other words, you had long since realized that there needed to be more to your life than the job. You had to find other ways to make yourself happy, or else risk the danger of burning out once and for all.

Kuroo made you happy. Really happy.

He stood there, neat and polished, in his ironed tie and white button-up. His hair was fighting the product he’d put in it this morning, trying to stick out in that characteristic, bedhead way. It was a gorgeously endearing sight. And the way he was looking at you now, earnest and vulnerable, made you want to abandon all common sense. Screw “unbecoming.” You wanted to jump right into his arms.

“That…means a lot,” you finally said. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“I don’t know. For everything. For being here, and being…you.” You swallowed hard, finding it increasingly difficult to keep the emotion out of your voice. “My turn to be cliché. I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

Kuroo’s eyes crinkled in a grin—and then, he scanned up and down the hallway. Abruptly, he backed you against the wall, barricading your line of sight with his broad shoulders, and before you could even protest, he cradled your jaw in one palm.

“Me neither,” he whispered. And Kuroo kissed you.

It was voltaic.

Charged with hours worth of pent-up longing, it was slow and deep and devastatingly warm. Heat rushed like liquid lightning through your veins as he worked his lips against you, his other hand coming up to pull your waist into his. You gasped into his mouth, and felt him smile against your own.

“Fuck,” you whispered, parting from him. He giggled like you’d said something funny. “We shouldn’t do this here,” you said.

“Says who? We’re their bosses now.”

“That doesn’t mean—” Kuroo didn’t let you finish; he slammed his lips back against yours, and immediately this kiss felt different. Messily, desperately, Kuroo slid his tongue into your mouth, gliding it against yours. One of his hands was fisting in your hair, tugging you ever closer. The other was gripping your hip, and you could feel the throbbing heat of him pulsing to life against your thigh. Images from your exchange this morning bubbled back into mind, and you remembered the night you’d promised him—the culmination to all the teasing you’d put him through.

Not that he was teasing you any less. He began kissing slowly down the side of your neck, and you couldn’t hold back the embarrassing sound that tumbled out of you. Again, Kuroo huffed a laugh into your skin, like all of this was hilarious to him. “Shut up,” you whispered, weaving your fingers into his hair. He didn’t even say anything in response. But he pulled away from you—you fought down the disappointed whine that almost left you at the loss of contact—and his eyes met yours. They smoldered with want. With longing.

With that all-too-familiar hunger.

You breathed heavily. “Wanna get out of here?” you murmured.

And the rest was history.

Part 3 (which will be plotless smut lmao) is coming soon!

Thanks so much for reading! Requests are open, and follow @eashn for more!

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #kuroo smut #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x reader #hq kuroo #kuroo tetsuro x reader #bokuto koutaro #smut

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lunarheslwt · 7 months

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28th appreciation fic recs: February edition

Hi! Welcome to the February fic rec list! I wanted to put together all the fics I've read and loved over this month for the 28th appreciation, so here they are! Click on the links for full tags and summaries. If you read any of these make sure to show the authors some love by leaving kudos and comments, and sharing any fic posts!

☁️To you I can admit, I'm just too soft for all of it by @starryhaze28

(28k / not rated / non traditional a/b/o)

“Harry?” Louis asks when he hears the frantic crying coming through the speaker. “H, darling what's wrong?” Concerned, Louis puts on his shoes as he keeps hearing the sobs. It’s the middle of the night and the phone call has definitely pulled Louis out of his deep slumber, but Harry is crying, and Louis has to be with him. “It’ll be okay, baby, I'm gonna come over, okay? You just- Haz you have to send me your address, yeah? Can you do that for me?” Louis asks, trying to remain as poised as possible as he presses his phone between his ear and shoulder so he can grab his jacket. “No.” Harry cries out. “It's all wrong, Lou- It’s-” Another sob. “I hate it, Lou, I hate it so, so much, make it stop.” the nesting shop au

Thoughts: the softest dearest thing you'll read, characters I would die for, a true comfort read

☁️While you're figuring it out by @silverstuff50

(4k / E / wholesome bdsm)

Harry is in a rut and his mood is getting lower and lower. Louis helps him with love and kink.

Thoughts: if you love kink, and if you love the softness and emotions that come with established relationships, then this is for you, its the perfect combination!

☁️On that note by @allwaswell16

(6k / E / pen pals, getting together)

Louis’ office job on an omega only floor would be absolutely fine, if not for the alphas he and his friends have to deal with in the building. But although they’ve never met face to face, the friendly notes sent between him and Harry in Purchasing help him get through the day.

Thoughts: this was so cute, and Louis' character esp is so endearing, and the way they get together is so precious !

☁️(drippin' on me) till my feet are wet by @justanothershadeofblue

(3k / E / watersports)

They’ve known each other so long, is the thing. More than a decade, at this point; their entire adult lives. They know each other with a deep and abiding familiarity, know each other's ins and outs, hopes and fears, secrets and kinks. There’s nothing hidden between them, and little that escapes each other’s notice. All of which is to say, Louis knows exactly what Harry’s up to, making this huge pitcher of lemonade and waiting until the lads were out the door to bring it outside and press a cold glass into Louis’ hand. He’d poured the liquid carefully, sunglasses concealing his gaze as he filled it to the top. “Drink up,” Harry had said, and Louis had, tipping the contents down his throat in one long pull, letting a few drops slip free and run down, chilled and sweet, into his short beard. He’d caught Harry’s eye and held out his glass for more. “Good,” Harry had said, voice deep, and filled it again.

Thoughts: so. fucking. hot. And bonus: the tenderness that comes with established relationship. Best of both worlds really, so it's perfection.

☁️We don't fight fair by @hellolovers13

(2k / E / chase, non traditional a/b/o)

“What, you think I'll just roll over for you now?” The smirk on Louis’ face was almost devilish. “Yes,” He breathed against Harry’s lips, cocky and sure, like it was a fact of life. It sent all kinds of shivers through Harry. God, but he wanted to. Wanted Louis to have him right against this wall, let everyone see how he fell apart under him. But not tonight. Harry fixed his posture, standing up straighter and trying to get himself under control. “I don't think so, omega.” Or: Nothing like a little chase to start off Louis' heat.

Thoughts: *muffled screaming*. Genuinely was so hot I was speechless for a good while. If that's not convincing: there's a chase. And it's O/O. I'm begging y'all to go read this.

☁️Man spreading by @red-pandaaa

(2k / E / pwp)

“Manspreading is such a bad habit,” Harry said, mainly because he felt like he was obligated to. “Is that so?” Louis said, in a tone that challenged Harry to disagree. Harry nodded as firmly as he could. “I think you should try to tone down the manspreading a bit.” “Maybe I should spread out my man instead,” Louis mused. OR Harry complains about Louis manspreading, Louis makes a joke, and rimming ensues

Thoughts: short and sexy, i loved it sm, this ones for the uh...rimming enthusiasts!

☁️Trippin', Stumblin' by @itsnotreal

(4k / M / friends to lovers fluff)

Harry was falling for Louis. No, really. He was literally falling for Louis— well, okay, maybe it was because of him. Technicalities. Or the one where Harry is super clumsy but still manages to catch Louis’ attention.

Thoughts: nervous awkward harry is so precious to me, this was so fucking cute and PRECIOUS

☁️You can try to hide by @itsnotreal

(6k / E / cnc, hunter prey kink)

Harry has managed to keep his innermost thoughts at bay when he’s around Louis, but what happens when he shows up unannounced one night when Harry’s at his most vulnerable.

Thoughts: read tags! cnc done WELL, so gripping so thrilling, so hot. The mind reading is SUCH a nice touch ahhhh

☁️Shut your mouth, baby by @larry-hiatus

(3k / E / new years smut)

While fooling around in a closet at a New Year’s Eve party, Louis can’t seem to keep quiet. All he needs to do is hold off until midnight, when Harry will finally uncover his mouth and let him come at full volume.

Thoughts: Em never misses with the smut so this is another banger, bonus: desperate overwhelmed Louis. So. 10/10 in my mind.

And that's it! Yet another short list bc I've been so tired and falling asleep before I could read sigh. Also yes literally almost all are smut but in my defence it's because I didn't get time to read long fics and short ones are usually smut. But then again we love and support smut in this house so you're welcome. Send some love to the authors if you check out any of these!!

#28th appreciation #February 2024 reads #monthly rec list #larry fic recs #hlficlibrary

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hystericstar · 1 year

Note

Could with have something with Sky x reader and bath sex? Like maybe they sneak into the academy's bathhouse while it's empty? Idky but I feel like Sky likes warm baths and such like that and having some sexy time along with it would be ~divine~ for him 👀

super cozy sky content! We love to see it <3 oh! And to everyone else who has sent in a request recently, I’m not ignoring any of you!! I just write kinda slow so please have some patience with me.

cw: none really, just seggsy bath time :)

! MDNI !

“Shit.” He huffed, back sliding on the wood of the tub. The echoes of splashing covering up the heavy breaths being exchanged. The room itself was quite steamy, rendering the differentiation between sweat and water impossible.

Your breasts were placed firmly against his chest, sliding up and down smoothly with the occasional squelch.

Link let a hand dip beneath the water, nimble fingers poking and prodding at your clit. With each bounce it nearly left the water completely before delving back in and down his shaft. You simply whined when he chuckled at your sudden gasps of pleasure.

“Almost.” Your voice hushed and breathy. He hugged you firmly, keeping you in place to rock his hips up into you. Link groaned into your ear. “So tight.”

With the grip he had on your body, he moved you into a laying position against the opposite wall of the tub. With your legs now on his shoulders, he promtly began pounding into you under the water, sending droplets to land on his abdomen and walls around him.

If what you were doing wasn’t obvious to the people outside before, it certainly was now. The splashing of water now had rhythm and your startled cries were not muffled in the slightest. All that didn’t matter however. Not even in the slightest. To link, it just made it all the better. How else would people know who could make you feel this good?

You knew you were at your limit when your eyes rolled back and toes curled. The hero felt it too, hips stuttering and pace growing desperate. His arms hooked around your legs for support. Leaning forward above you, a few water droplets from his damp hair landed on your cheek. He rocked into you one last time, filling your insides up with the same warmth as the steam encasing your bodies.

~《☆♡•°•°♡☆》~

Now that I look at it, it’s not super soft stuff but hey, it fits regardless <3

#loz x reader #loz x reader smut #link x reader smut #skyward sword link #skyward sword link x reader #ss link #ss link x reader #skyward sword link x reader smut #ss link x reader smut

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cloudninetonine · 1 year

Note

*Pulls up to your drive-thru.* Yeah, can i get uhhhh..... Hylians are giant flavoured older brother/Dad Warrior please? Hold the fries.

I gotchu fam

“I hate you, Hylians, why are you all so tall.”

One minute you were with the group and the next you were lost in the crowd, your face not short from annoyance as you tried to leap higher than the people with hopes of seeing the familiar faces of the heroes that bore the name ‘Link’.

No luck, nada.

“I hate you too, Link.” It wasn’t specified which man you meant exactly but hell, why not all? “How the fuck have you not noticed I’m gone- wait. It’s being I’m fucking tiny!”

The goliath’s around you did not part as you muttered your little crazed rant, your body pushing through the bodies with only half hearted calls of apologies. No time for this, you wanted to be with your friends, not fighting for your life to try and find some high ground. How ridiculous!

If Warriors had been by your side this wouldn’t be so hard. A second shadow, like a protective older brother, you had almost forgotten the amount of times he had guided you safely through the masses. Not that the others hadn’t, of course, but the man had practically grabbed you by the scruff and dubbed you his little sibling. A little ridiculous in your eyes at first, but the found family trope had been something you always loved and, well, it did feel nice to have an older brother in a place as strange as this.

“Finally!” You cried, making it through the crowd of the market. “Fucking hell, lucky to not have claustrophobia.”

The sight of a bench was relieving, your feet leading you towards the small structure to climb atop. It wasn’t that tall leading to not the greatest of results- you couldn’t see past the wall of bodies just ahead, shoulders slightly slumping in defeat before you decided to cup your hands around your mouth to yell.

“Link!” No one battered an eye, you tried again-

Well, you were going to try again, when a hand grabbed roughly at your shirt’s scruff and yanked.

Your yelp was interrupted by your choke, body violently falling towards the pavement stones before you were tugged upright last second to see an unfamiliar face belonging to an unfamiliar man- cheeks red in a blazing fury, hot enough for you to believe his glasses would fog and steal with bellow from his nose.

“There you are!” He roared, you flinching from the volume. “How dare you leave the group! How many times do I need to tell you?!”

You gawked at his audacity. “Fucking pardon?!”

The strange man almost seemed taken by your words before he steeled again. “You dare use such words!? I will have you paddled!”

Paddled- PADDLED!?

“Paddled!? What are you some fucking sixteeth century house maid!?” You shouted in his face, wide eyed and a little frightened. “Who the fuck are you!?”

“Enough! You will return to the group at once!”

“Group!?” Glancing around him you noticed-

A huddle of children.

He thought you were a child.

A child.

You were about to blow your gasket out in rage.

“You- hey! Let me go!” His hand had moved to roughly grab at your wrist, nails almost digging into your skin. “Let me the fuck go you stupid bastard!”

In such a situation you would be both embarrassed and nervous, flushed pale at the thought of getting dragged even further away from your group and being mistake for a mere Hylian child but all you felt was anger. Anger from getting lost, anger from dealing with the crowds, anger from dealing with the heat and now anger from dealing with this mother fucker.

You just wanted to be with the Chain, would rather hear another of those idiotic boys short jokes than have to deal with this day any further. Tired and most certainly hangry, you were ready to take on even Dink just to finally rest and have the sun set on such horrid circumstances.

Without hesitation you sent you foot out to connect with his shin, his howled pain bringing a sense of delight with you before once again the man straightened, raging even further as he roughly grabbed at your hand.

“That is it! I have had enough with your brattish attitude.” From his jacket pocket he produced a long thing stick that mimicked a ruler, raising your sleeve to show bare skin.

Was this man about to hit you?

Oh, you were going to kill him-

Before he could even bring down his weapon a hand had grabbed his arm, a familiar gloved hand that dug into the material of his jacket as it easily steadied the appendage, your trapped paling at the moment of getting caught.

‘We are in broad daylight you stupid fuck-’

“I suggest you take your hand off my sibling.” Came the eerily calm voice of Warriors, his ocean blue eyes almost an icy cold from the rage he was holding back. “Before I cut it off.”

The fool bumbled, “This is my-”

“Your student is here.” A child, similar to appearance but mostly certainly not the same as you, cowered behind the towering man, grabbing desperately at his green tunic as he watched the scene- a few Castletown guards not far behind with looks of disgust and anger as they watched. “Along with the guard.”

“I- I-” You finally ripped your hand away, slapping harshly at his that stayed stagnant in the air and enjoying his pained help.

“Fucking bitch!”

You stayed by Warriors side as the scene unfolded, the group of small school children being gently ushered away (along with your look alike, who smiled and waved towards the hero who returned it) with two separate guards dragging the horrid teacher in a different direction, his pleas falling on deaf ears. The crowd had watched the chaos for a short while before finally returning to their own devices, the calls of the market echoing through your ears and only giving you a bigger headache than you already had.

“Are you alright?” The blonde asked after just a brief silence, looking worriedly down at you. “You seem very tense.”

“Just done with all the fucking idiots today.”

His hand rested upon your shoulder and you grabbed it gratefully, “I know that feeling all too well, I apologise for not noticing your earlier disappearance but I thought you were still holding onto my scarf.”

“Let me guess, that’s where the kid came in.”

He chuckled, “I only noticed them when I turned around to ask you if you wanted something from the bakery.”

“....you got me something from the bakery?” The exhaustion was evident in your voice but you still managed a smile.

“An apology cake for the crowds- I know you don’t like them.”

With a smile you playfully punched his arm, smirking when he feigned hurt. “Well, you’re forgiven- but can we please go? I’m getting fed up of this place.”

“Of course, the rest must had returned already.” The man kneeled, his back offered towards you. “Come, I’ll carry you.”

You didn’t refuse the offer, climbing atop the man’s back quickly with a relieved sigh once the pressure was gone off your feet. Resting your chin on his shoulder, you relaxed against him completely as he made his way through the masses towards the exit of Castletown. Your camp wasn’t fair, just off the outskirts and heaven in your mind at the thought of the silence of the forest around you.

“...I can’t believe you were mistaken for a child-”

“I will bite your fucking ear off, Link.”

#cloud answers #linked universe #linked universe x reader #lu #linked universe imagine #player au #a player's aid #lu warriors #Finally getting to requests #The sky is falling!#Anon asks

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surrogate-fawn · 1 year

Text

End of Term (NYC College AU)

Part 1 of 2

(Link to Part 2 will appear here when posted)

Summary: Fawn is a small-town girl from West Virginia trying to find her future in the Big Apple. She's left everything from her past behind her . . . or so she thinks. During her final exams, Fawn is completely unaware that she's been pregnant since before the semester began -- and her labor has started. As her discomfort grows more intense throughout the day, Fawn gets a little closer to discovering the cause of it. Hopefully, it doesn't take her too long to figure it out.

((This story features Newt, who belongs to @mittysins.))

TW: Cryptic pregnancy, graphic bodily descriptions, implications of past abuse, emotionally traumatic birth experience.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I still wasn't used to the subway trains. Sitting on one was like riding an elevator sideways during an earthquake. The g-force of every start and stop made my stomach lurch, and I still almost flew outta my seat every time. I could expect to be a little queasy by the time Newt and I reached our last stop -- and that was when I didn't wake up sick.

"Bleh. I blame YOU for this!" I text messaged Newt, despite the fact he was sitting a few seats over. He was sitting in our usual spot, but that morning I needed to sit in the back corner, where I could curl up and rest against the wall.

I saw Newt check his phone from the corner of my eye, and seconds later I got his reply: "How is indigestion MY fault?"

"I didn't even want takeout until YOU asked for it." I was sure to put a goofy emoji at the end of the message to show I was being sarcastic.

"Sorry. Cravings." Newt replied. A second later he sent a gif of a cartoon cat shrugging.

I leaned over and met his eyes with a deliberately exaggerated frown. There were several strangers sitting between us, and I probably looked crazy -- but what else was new in this city? I hit 'send', and watched Newt check his phone. I delighted in his held back snicker when he saw the giant picture of a middle finger on his screen.

That morning marked the start of our first finals week as freshman at Queens College. Newt and I had stayed up as late as possible, doing some last-minute study cramming at my apartment. Now that Newt was entering his second trimester, he was trading in his morning sickness for late-night cravings of Chinese food -- specifically steamed dumplings with fried rice (but it had to be plain rice, he'd cried when I'd accidentally ordered the pork rice).

"You're a bad influence on me, lol. I need to stop joining in on your craving binges." I hugged my backpack tighter to my stomach as my guts cramped again.

"I'm not the one who ordered two boxes of sesame chicken and three extra egg rolls." Newt retorted. A second later: "Not to mention the lo mein."

"The lo mein was supposed to be for lunch today! >:("

"Ye right. ;)"

Fine, yeah, I'd overdone it last night. I could barely contain myself around food anymore. Ever since I'd arrived in New York City that past summer, I'd been overeating. I guess I was eating my emotions. The stress had been piling up all fuckin' semester!

Moving from the suburbs of West Virginia to such a huge city had my nerves fried by the time I settled into my teeny-tiny apartment that was more expensive than a house back home. Stacked on that was the anxiety of starting school. Stacked on that was the fact my roommate, Makayla, refused to do her share of chores. Stacked on that was homesickness. Stacked on that was studying enough to not lose my scholarship. Then stacked on all of that, my one and only friend in this city was dealing with an unplanned pregnancy.

If my next-door neighbor hadn't been Newt, I'd still be floundering. Without a doubt. We clicked at first sight, as if we'd known each other in a past life. He was my lifeline. Newt had lived in Manhattan all his life, but Queens College was the only local school within his budget and that's how we'd ended up in the same off-campus student housing. He was the one that taught me street-smarts -- which roads to avoid at night, where the best Mom-and-Pop restaurants were, how to hail a cab, and how to read the hieroglyphics that were the subway maps. Although we'd only been friends for barely a month when he knocked on my door with a positive pregnancy test and tears in his eyes, I'd never thought twice about being his shoulder to cry on and his hand to hold.

I didn't care if worrying over him added to the stress of my new life here, it was a worry I gladly carried.

But it seemed all that stress was finally catching up to me.

As the train came to another screaming halt, I was twisting myself into a pretzel. My stomach was cramping again, straining hard to move along the mountain of food I'd eaten twelve hours earlier. The doors slid open, and several passengers I recognized as fellow students stood up. Newt joined them, slinging his bookbag over his shoulder and plucking the air pods out of his ears. I knew I needed to get up, but my legs needed a few extra seconds of convincing.

"You good?" Newt asked as he watched me lift myself off the seat in segments.

"I'm fine," I said, walking with him onto the platform. "I just hope that Pepto kicks in soon."

"How many exams you got today?"

"Three," I groaned, my head falling back on my shoulders. "Chemistry, biology, and that stupid-ass remedial algebra class."

"Ha! I've only got two," Newt gloated, pausing to zip up his oversized red jacket.

"Uh-huh, but don't you have to wait eight hours between them?"

"Gives me plenty of time to study," he said as we continued up the station stairs. The sonofabitch was talking like he hadn't been complaining all week about his morning class and evening class having the same exam day.

"Please," I smirked, rolling my eyes, "I know you're just gonna play The Sims 4 on your laptop."

We both shivered as we walked out of the muggy underground and into the biting cold winds coming off the harbor. I pulled my hood over my head and pulled the drawstrings tighter around my neck.

"You can't prove anything," Newt grinned, his breath coming out as a soft cloud.

I gave him a comedically unamused look. "You're pregnant, so I'm not gonna hit you."

Newt chuckled and placed his hand over the small, four-month bump that was hiding under his jacket. "Thanks for the save, kiddo."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The walk to campus was only two blocks, but it felt like I was forcing myself to trudge through mud. I regretted ordering so much food. Clearly, I hadn't learned my lesson, yet.

My overeating the last few months had me in a constant state of bloat. It always felt like a giant water balloon was sitting right on my guts. I was peeing every few minutes, my kidneys working overtime to get rid of the extra fluid I was holding. Gas bubbles were always rolling through me, too. They were mostly just annoying blips of movement but recently they'd gotten painful.

The worst were the large pockets of air that got trapped under my ribs. They would stay there for hours sometimes, making it excruciating to breathe. Nothing in the world could help me when I got like that; I just had to go about my day in agony and wait until the pressure spreading my ribs apart decided to move along.

By now, I was kinda used to functioning while my intestines were trying to kill me; but, God, they were trying extra hard that day.

My stomachache flared up right outside the library, the shortcut I took to get to chemistry class. I sat down on a bench, gripping the edge of the seat and trying not to double over. My sides ached, and a deep stabbing pain plunged deep inside my abdomen. The invisible knife twisted, and I realized I was holding my breath.

"Fawn?"

I looked up at Newt, who had doubled back to check on me. His first class was on the other side of campus, and the library was where our daily routes split for most of the day.

"I'll be fine," I said, waving him away. "I'll buy a soda at lunch. That usually helps."

Newt glanced over his shoulder, down the path he was supposed to take, and then stepped a little closer. "I won't be out of here until five. Don't wait up for me, okay? When you're done with exams, just go home."

"Yeah, I will," I nodded. "That sounds good."

Newt nodded back, looking a lot more at ease. "Is it okay if I come over with some soup later? I found a new recipe online and it looks really good!"

"That's fine," I said, stretching my arms over my head to loosen up my torso. "Just use your key. I'll see 'ya then, bud."

"See you then." He gave me a two-fingered salute and continued on his way.

I checked the time on my phone and sighed. I had to get moving again, or else I'd have half my final exam score deducted for being late. My chemistry professor was a real stickler for being on-time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'd moved to New York City to finally get my degree in Botany & Plant Science. It'd been my dream for a while to become a researcher and study the pharmaceutical use of plants. Having a pair of old hippies as parents will inspire that interest in 'ya. Queens College was the best scholarship I could get out-of-state, and I had to be out-of-state. I just had to be.

I already had trouble fitting in with my classmates as a "mature" undergrad student. Since when was twenty-nine considered too "mature" for college?! All of my subjects were basic introductory courses, and that meant I was surrounded by fresh-faced teenagers less than a year out of high school. Even Newt wasn't that young. He'd taken a few years off before college, but apparently twenty-four was still young enough to fit in with the crowd.

At least not having any classroom friends meant I was left alone that morning. I sat in my assigned seat and watched the rest of the students file in from the hallway. The desk allowed me to hunch down when my stomach clenched again, the muscles in my abs pinching hard. I crossed my legs and bounced my foot, trying to distract myself from the storm brewing inside me as the professor laid out the rules of the exam period.

I was in pain for that entire hour. It was hard to keep up with the time limit. I had to pause on several multiple-choice questions -- sometimes because they were challenging, other times because the stabbing, twisting pain was flaring up. I began fantasizing about how good I'd feel after I was able to get my hands on a soda, and that daydream carried me through.

Shockingly, I was one of the first students to stand up -- and I'd finished with barely eleven minutes to spare. My professor nodded at me as I placed my exam packet on his desk, and he quietly wished me a good winter break as I shuffled out the door.

Freedom at last! There were about two hours to kill before my biology exam, so I was sure with a light snack and some rest I'd be feeling better by then.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'd worked hard to build up enough of a nest egg to live off in New York. I'd squirreled money away for three years in a secret bank account, and lied to Alexander about how much my hourly pay was. My scholarship covered only part of my housing costs, and I knew living off savings couldn't last all four years of school. However, I was not going to stress over buying a three-dollar root beer when it felt like I was being wrung like a washcloth.

The dining hall at Queens was a glorified cafeteria: fold-out tables, plastic chairs, too much noise and not enough space. I really wasn't hungry, but I knew if I skipped out on lunch I would regret it later. So, I stopped by the Nathan's stand to grab a hotdog and bag of plain potato chips to go with my large cup of carbonated medicine.

I made do with sitting at the empty end of a crowded table, where the huddle of dudes at the other end were playing Magic: the Gathering. That stuff was more Newt's scene than mine, so I put my earbuds in and pulled up the YouTube app on my phone.

The Peanuts Christmas special played on my screen as I nibbled on chips and washed the salt away with long swigs of root beer. I was hoping to summon a little Christmas spirit to help me not feel so dead inside. It was two weeks away, and it was the little candy-red cherry atop my mountain of things to worry about. Between hesitant bites of hotdog, I wondered how I could pry some gift ideas out of Newt last-minute. I'd already gotten him an Amazon gift card, but I wanted to get him something a little more per-.

I sucked a sharp breath through my nostrils, choking on half-chewed bread as my stomach cramped again. It didn't feel the same as the hundreds of other cramps I'd been having. This one was bad. It was really. Fucking. Bad! I curled up in the seat, my hands dipping inside my hoodie pocket to press against my stomach. Even through three layers of clothing, I could feel my muscles clenching.

And it just wouldn't stop. Most of them would fade after a few seconds, but this one just kept going. I doubled over, pressing on my belly and praying the pain would stop.

And then it stopped.

I sat up straight and looked around. No one nearby was paying any attention, but my freckles turned pink anyway as I quickly rose and tossed what was left of my food in the trash. I chugged the rest of the soda.

There were still two exams to go, but I was already checked out for the day. I knew there was a bottle of cupcake vodka leftover from Makayla's birthday party last month. Mixed in a milkshake, that stuff had been sweet enough to give me both a sugar high and a buzz. Maybe if the soda didn't do the trick I'd go home and try soothing my stomach with one of those. I deserved one already, and it wasn't even noon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It hurt to be upright.

My biology exam was half lab work and half a written test. The class was split into two groups: one to do the lab first, and one to do the written exam first. Guess which one I was in.

I was white-knuckling that clipboard as I quietly shuffled from one specimen sample to the next. Identify this bone. Identify that leaf. Is this a rock or a fossil? I was rocking my weight from side-to-side as subtly as I could. The cramping hadn't eased up since lunch. I was feeling this one down to the soles of my feet and keeping 'em moving was the only way I could stay standing.

At the apex of the cramp, I grit my teeth as a new pain bloomed deep inside my hips. I leaned my weight over the table, disguising the motion as trying to get a better look at a specimen. A knife-like stab hit my cervix and the ache radiated between my legs.

Ah, okay. I knew that kind of pain, even if it'd been a while.

No wonder the indigestion was so bad. I always got an upset stomach the day my period was due to start. 'Course, I could never tell when I was due. I tried tracking them, but ever since puberty they'd been on a schedule of their own. My cycles had been mild spotting for most of that year, so I figured there was a mighty buildup of Mother Nature in there that was trying to come out. No wonder I was already cramping so hard.

Oh, boy . . . and from my experience, I could tell I was in for a world of hurt once I actually started bleedin'.

I made it through the written half of the exam free of carnage. The pain was somehow easier to deal with when I knew it was all just hormones. At the water fountain down the hall, I popped a few ibuprofen out of my purse and downed them. There, now I knew I'd be feeling better once those puppies kicked in.

Another two hours, and I'd be free to go home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was relaxing on a sofa in the library when I suddenly felt a pouring wetness in the crotch of my pants. Ah, fuck. Fuck!

I left my backpack behind in a panic and speed-walked to the nearest restroom. I subtly pulled my hoodie as far over my hips as possible, hoping to hide anything that leaked through my sweatpants as I shuffled past other quietly studying students. I cussed myself out in my head for not thinking to put on a pad as soon as I started cramping.

Once I was hidden away in a stall, I inspected the damage. My underwear was damp with a watery pink discharge as well as several dark red clots. Yes, some of it had seeped through my pants, but not enough to be noticeable. I could still feel it dripping down into the toilet as I tried to clean everything up.

All it took was that first drop of blood for the cramps to reach their full strength. That was always the case when I missed a few periods. I pressed my lips together to stop a groan from escaping as I doubled over and hugged my midsection. My entire torso throbbed and clenched inward. My toes curled inside my sneakers as the pain once again trickled down to the soles of my feet. My jaw locked up as I grit my teeth against the pain, and I felt a charlie horse starting in the back of my neck.

Everything. Fucking. HURT.

The cramp left me feeling slightly weak. It didn't just disappear, it just . . . settled back into my muscles as a soft, constant ache. I held a wad of toilet paper between my legs for a few seconds, and in that short amount of time it was soaked in pastel pink. The floodgates had opened, and it wasn't going to stop. This pink discharge was no doubt going to become a full red tide by the time I got home.

I returned to the couch wearing a cheap cotton pad from the restroom vending machine. Although it wasn't smart, I swallowed two more ibuprofen dry. I sat curled up in the corner of the sofa, killing the last forty minutes before my exam watching videos on my phone.

The cramps just kept coming. I kept feeling blood gushing out of me and into the pad. My labia were constantly throbbing, and not in the good way. Every time I cramped, it felt like I was being turned inside out.

I seriously considered blowing off my algebra exam. I would fail the class, but I could just re-take it next semester, right? Maybe I could re-schedule the final if I brought in a doctor's note? Well, fuck . . . no, I couldn't do that. My health insurance wouldn't fully cover an emergency room visit and I doubted a doctor's note from three days after the final would be able to save my sorry ass.

Besides, I hated remedial algebra so much I felt nauseous at the thought of doing it again. I was just gonna have to suck it up and get through it like everyone else. Then, I wouldn't have to think about anything else until tomorrow.

God, why me?! Why today of all days to start the worst period in the history of mankind?!

I wondered if there was some cosmic deity out there who was taking joy in my suffering. If so, at least this pain was good for something in the grand scheme of things.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Despite the biting December air, I felt sweat dripping down my back as I trudged across campus to attend my last exam. It hurt to walk. It hurt to stand. Hell, it just hurt to exist. I made myself keep a steady pace, although my body was demanding I stop with every cramp. When that telltale stabbing would start in my lower back, all I wanted to do was lay on the floor and cry; but I was a grown-up, and I had grown -up stuff to do.

When I sat at my desk, my hips jolted up as if the hard plastic seat had burned me. I let out an involuntary gasp of pain, and my face burned in embarrassment as everyone turned to look at me. I started a chesty cough to disguise the sound.

I hadn't noticed it when sitting on the plush couch, but my labia were ungodly swollen and sore. This was not something that usually happened during my period. I knew my hormones were way out of whack this time around, so . . . maybe it was some weird hormonal reaction?

Whatever it was, it wasn't making the exam any easier.

My whole weight was sitting square on my pelvis in that uncomfortable classroom desk, and it was torture. I tried sitting as far back as I could to take the pressure off, but that just made my tailbone hurt, too.

My pencil slipped in my wet palm as I desperately tried to fill the bubbles in on my scantron sheet. I wriggled my hips, trying in vain to find a way to sit that didn't hurt like hell. Sweat began to drip from under my sports bra beneath my layers of clothing. It was taking everything in my power not to beg my professor to let me take the exam while lying on the floor. Fuck, I'd even do it standing on my head -- anything to get the pressure off my poor vagina.

Ten minutes in I decided to leave my final grade up to fate. I was in so much pain, I no longer cared if I failed the class. I chose my answers based on educated guesses, skipping the solving process entirely.

I was staggering to my feet within twenty minutes, and my professor gave me a scowl when he saw my worksheet hardly had any equations written on it. He leaned in as I placed my scantron on his desk.

"I hope you know you've wasted your time," he whispered, glowering at me from under his bi-focals. "You may as well have not showed up."

The only answer I could offer was a nod. I hurried into the hallway, tears blurring my vision.

I knew I'd wasted my time. I knew I'd fucked myself over. The further I walked down the hall, the more I regretted not trying harder.

I threw the test after ten fuckin' minutes, just so I could go home and be lazy. I wasn't sick, I was just on my period! What sorry excuse was that for wasting tuition money? There were probably dozens of other students in the same amount of pain I was in, but they weren't throwing away their grades over it. God, I was pathetic. I was so determined to pass this stupid remedial class at the start of the semester, even if it was with a 'C', but in ten minutes I'd given up.

Maybe Alex was right. Maybe I was just too damn stupid to be here.

By the time I stepped outside, I was crying. I pulled up my hood to hide the tears and kept my head down as I began the long walk off campus.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The noon train wasn't as packed as the seven o'clock train, but it was still too full for my liking. That was what I hated about the city; you couldn't go anywhere without brushing shoulders with a stranger.

There were available seats, but I couldn't sit down. My lower lips were throbbing with my heartbeat. I had my arm wrapped around a standing bar, clinging for dear life against the g-forces of the train. My stance had to be wider than natural, or else my thighs would pinch and cause a hot, pulsating pain through my stomach. I knew I probably looked like a drunk trying to hold themselves up against gravity, but I reminded myself that New Yorkers see things like that on the trains all the time. No one would say anything as long as I kept to myself. My hood was still up to hide the leaks in my eyes, the flow of tears I couldn't fully control.

I clung tighter to the bar as I cramped again, and a warm gush soaked into the pad between my legs. My eyes dripped as they stared off into nothing, my mind going blank from the pain. A sudden "buzz-buzz" from the phone in my pocket brought me back from the void. I blinked my vision clear and checked the text message. It was from Newt, replying to a text I'd sent earlier:

"Sorry ur feeling so shit :( You going home?"

I rested my temple against the smudged chrome pole and typed my reply:

"On the train now."

Three grey dots appeared below my message.

Buzz-buzz.

"Still want me to come over??"

I replied: "Yeah. Makayla's with her boyfriend for the week and I need distraction."

Grey dots. Buzz-buzz.

"Awww poor bb. A whole apartment all to yourself. Glad I'm not THAT unlucky. /s "

I grinned and dried half my face on my shoulder. Newt had never fit in with his roommate's group of frat boy sports fans. Just like I had never gelled with Makayla's crowd of hardcore party girls. They weren't "bad" people, they were just . . . not "our" people.

"We need new roommates," I typed.

Dots. Buzz-buzz.

"Ye."

I felt another huge gush, and my thighs pressed together in response. My inner cheek bled as my teeth chopped through it. Fuck. Forgot to not do that.

That cheap pad didn't feel like it was gonna hold up much longer. The last thing I needed was to reenact the elevator scene from The Shining in front of two dozen strangers on the subway. I pulled my hoodie further over my hips, just in case.

"Fair warning," I typed, "my apartment might be a bloodbath by the time you get there."

Dots. Buzz-buzz.

"BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!!!"

"Omfg."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Ohhh my fucking god."

I angled my lower back into the stream of hot water, pressing my hands into the glass wall of the shower. I hung my head as my body gradually clamped down on itself like a vice, tighter . . . tighter . . . tighter. Now that I was safely inside the privacy of my apartment, I could finally deal with the pain how I wanted: whining like a 'lil bitch.

"Ohhh my fucking god," I repeated, the sentence crawling out of my mouth as a slurred moan.

The water splashed pink at my feet. A few dime-sized globs of red fell onto the shower mat and were washed away. My pad had been soaked through with that thin pink discharge, but hardly any real blood. My body must've been trying to break my uterus open like a piggy bank to get out what it needed, because I felt like I was dying.

"God," I dragged the word out for a solid minute in a deep, angry groan as I sank to my knees. I ran out of breath, but the pain kept going. I wrapped my arms around my stomach and pitched forward, eyelids pinched shut and teeth open in a gaping snarl. The muscles in my torso vibrated with tension. It was hard to breathe, my ribs too tight to get a full breath. The air I managed to suck in came back out as another drawn-out groan: "Fuck."

I'd been trying for hours to ease the cramping and indigestion that were teaming up to kill me. I'd taken enough ibuprofen to drop a horse. I'd taken Pepto-Bismol like shots of tequila. Heating pads had helped, but not for long. I'd put an ice pack between my legs to bring down the swelling, but the ice stung. I'd turned the temperature as high as I could tolerate and was now face-down on the shower floor, letting the water hit anywhere it could reach. My skin was scalded red, but the iota of relief I got was worth it.

Knock, knock, knock. Three solid knocks on the bathroom door.

I knelt there with my cheek in a puddle of water, too engulfed in pain to react.

"Soup delivery!" A cheery tenor voice on the other side, somewhat drowned by the water rolling over my ears.

Newt? What was he doing here? He didn't leave school until five. Shit, what time was it? How long had I been home?

I lifted myself onto my elbows, blowing out a long breath as I waited for the pain to fade. As soon as it did, I called loud enough for Newt to hear me over the roar of the shower:

"I'll be out in a sec. Just put everything in the kitchen."

"M'kay."

I didn't hear Newt walk away, but I heard his heavy crockpot being set on the counter -- the kitchen shared a wall with the bathroom. God, that apartment was tiny.

Ugh. I had to get up. I'd been in there too long. The water was turning cold. My hands and feet were pruney. I had to get up. I had to get up.

I climbed up the slick glass wall, leaving smeared handprints in the condensation. The higher I stood on my feet, the worse I felt; but if you'd asked me to describe how, I wouldn't have known what to say. I steadied myself, turned the water off, and opened the shower door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was a fresh bowl waiting for me on the counter as I stepped into the kitchen, but I didn't have an appetite.

"Don't like it?" Newt asked, serving himself a helping of soup from the crockpot.

My hair was hanging limp around my face and shoulders, dripping water like the branches of a weeping willow; but the droplets rolling down my neck weren't water. A sticky layer of sweat was coating my back and my legs beneath my plush winter pajamas. The bowl of homemade French onion soup sat untouched and steaming in front of me.

"No, it looks good," I said. "I just don't really feel like eat--ugh!" Another cramp started and this time I didn't hold back a moan of pain. "Augh!"

Newt set his bowl on the stove and took a few soft-footed steps towards me. "Does your period usually hurt like this?" he asked, rubbing his hand over my back.

I shook my head and braced my hands against the counter, unable to answer him with words. I tried to speak, but my mouth would only allow a series of small moans and gasps as the pain went on and on and on and -- fuck, this wasn't right! It had been almost a year since my last full bleed, but there was no way in hell this level of pain was normal!

I leaned over the counter, rocking my hips in a fruitless bid to shake away the twisting, stabbing, squeezing pain. As I struggled to fill my lungs with air, my mind scrambled for answers. Was this what endometriosis felt like? A cyst rupturing? A fibroid? Oh my god, what if it was a tumor?!

I felt more fluid dripping in globs onto my pad, and I let out a sob. "It feels so bad!" I whimpered to my friend, tears coming to my eyes. "I just . . . just want it to stop!" My lower back suddenly felt like it was going to break, and I let out another sob as my knees began to give out under me.

Newt saw me falling and he acted quick. His arms hooked under my shoulders, and he arched his back to try and keep me standing.

"Woah, hey!" he cried as he caught me in a low crouch, just before I'd hit the ground. "What's wrong?!"

My first thought was to tell him to put me down. He shouldn't be straining himself like that, and I worried about him even through the blinding pain. I opened my mouth to scold him, but that's when it happened. I will never forget the moment it happened.

A huge weight began to sit on my lower bowels, and I swear to god I thought my guts were going to fall out. A tsunami wave of nausea rolled up from that horrible sinking pressure and hit my stomach like a geyser. I dry heaved and sank lower to the floor as my mind was overtaken by one silent demand:

Push!

"Newt-!" was all I managed to gasp.

And then I was bearing down with all my strength.

I'd never felt anything more intense in my life. It was an unholy demon pressing down on me, and I had no choice but to submit.

A scream -- a full, honest-to-god scream -- ripped itself free of my throat. I rested just long enough to inhale, and then I was pushing again, my chin pressed to my chest. I felt a shift deep inside, pressing against my lower spine. Something was prying me open. Something was slipping its way down.

I screamed again as the realization finally dawned on me: Something was coming out!

"Fawn?!" I heard his frantic voice, but my vision was haloed in black. "Fawn, talk to me!"

I held onto Newt as my lifeline, until I ran out of the strength to push anymore. "Help me!" I panted, hugging him closer. "God, please help me!"

"What is it?!"

"I'm fucking turning inside out!" I cried, growling as I pushed the object lower into my pelvis.

At first, I was convinced my colon or something was about to pop out like a fucked up horror movie; but I felt the object heading to a different area of my body. I could feel my swollen labia pushing out into my pad.

"Augh, I think it's my uterus!" I sobbed as I strained -- unable to stop myself in both regards. "That's what's falling out!"

"What the fuck?!" Newt cried. "That can happen?!"

"Yes!"

"Oh, shit!" Newt jumped up and began circling the kitchen. "Where the hell is my phone?! I'm calling 9-1-1!"

"Please fucking do!" I yelled, dropping to all fours as Newt hurried to look for his phone in the living room.

Forbidding myself to push was like forbidding myself to breathe. It simply had to happen. Tears flowed from my eyes as I was forced to push out one of my own internal organs. Not just any organ, the one that would end my dream of having a family once it was gone.

This was hell. I was in hell.

My hips tried to jerk away from the pain as the object began to force itself though my vagina. I felt the object pressing against my pad as I pushed, and I wondered if it would be enough to hold it in. Maybe if I could somehow keep it inside me, the doctors would be able to pull it back in.

The next push told me I had no other choice but it let it out. What was happening was happening fast. Too fast. Too fast! Oh, fuck! I felt my skin yawn open and pull tight, creating a hellish burn that made me scream myself hoarse.

I hiked my pants down and craned my neck to see between my legs. The first thing I saw was a long strand of pink-red mucous clinging to my bulging lips for a few seconds, before dripping down onto the pad at my knees.

I saw a hint of something beginning to breech out of me. It was fleshy and covered in blood. It was somewhat blue colored and wrinkled, and I was terrified. My inside-out uterus was coming out of me, and I couldn't bear the sight.

I shut my eyes tight and screamed through another huge push. I had a flash of the thought: "Since when was my uterus this big? Isn't it supposed to be small?" But it was gone before I could dwell on it.

Newt's footsteps ran back into the kitchen.

"Okay, I found-."

Both his voice and his footsteps came to a screeching halt as they entered the room. I heard something drop to the ground, and it sounded like the heavy-duty casing Newt kept on his cellphone.

"Holy fucking shit . . . !" Newt's voice was muffled, as if he was pressing his hand to his mouth.

"If it's really bad, don't tell me," I begged through gritted teeth, a small sob jolting my shoulders.

Newt didn't say anything, but I heard him drop to his knees in front of me. I opened my eyes and saw him spreading a hand towel from the sink over his lap.

"It's not that bad," he said, taking my arms and adjusting them so I was holding onto his shoulders. His voice was uncanny -- it was obvious he was pretending to be calm.

Newt draped the towel over his hands and my heart dropped.

"W-what are you doing?" I asked.

"Don't worry. I've got you covered," he said. "Just push."

"Newt?" I asked, turning my face towards his. My heart was starting to pound behind my eyes. "What's happening to me?"

I didn't see him smile, but his tone remained steady. "It'll be okay, Fawn. I promise."

I gripped his arms tighter as another pain started. "Oh god, I'm dying, aren't I?" I groaned. I wasn't even scared at the thought -- at this point, death felt like the only end to this pain. I'd all but accepted it.

"You're not dying, Fawn," Newt said, brushing his cheek against mine. His fledging facial hair tickled. "You're fine, you just need to push."

Sighing, I lowered my forehead to his shoulder and followed my body's demands. The stretch continued, grew worse by the second, until something round and squishy slipped out and dangled between my thighs.

God, it was finally over.

All we had to do was call an ambulance and they could take me to surgery. However this happened, there was still a chance my uterus could be saved. My dream didn't have to be - !

Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck, I was still pushing!

I screamed into Newt's body as my burning lips spread further over something wide for a few white-hot seconds. There was a disgusting splash that gushed over my inner thighs, followed by the softest little 'plop'.

I was empty. I felt hollow and numb. My body buzzed, but it felt dead. I was left gasping in deep breaths to steady my racing heart, staring off into nothing over Newt's shoulder. My eyes burned from sweat pouring down my brow.

"Fawn," Newt said -- his voice sounded miles away, "look."

"I don't wanna look at it," I sighed, wiping my face on my sleeve.

That's when she cried for the first time.

A warbled little mewl flew up to meet my ears.

I looked down, in the space between Newt and I . . . and I screamed.

A blue cord of flesh was hanging between my legs, coated in blood. It trailed down in a soft arch to the towel sitting on Newt's lap, where I saw the answer to every question I'd had that day.

Laying there between Newt's hands, squirming and screaming and blue, was a wrinkly newborn baby.

She was a girl.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End of Part 1 of 2

Author's Note: Thank you for reading Part 1! This is by far the longest fic I've written thus far. It's so long that I had to split it into two chapters! Part 2 will be available very soon. This story will be available on my AO3 page, just like all of my other fics! Feel free to follow me or any of my stories there under the same name.

#fawn drabbles #mittysins #borrowed ocs #fawn and newt #birth kink #labor kink #newt my beloved <3 #pre-relationship ship fic

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