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moonstruckme · 8 months

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can i request poly!marauders x female reader where she’s on her period and gets horrible cramps/back pain so the guys do what they can to help? With maybe the reader taking advantage of how hot Remus runs and using him as a heating pad? Thank you so much!!!!

The amount of times I've wished for almost exactly this is embarrassing. Thanks for requesting lovely, hope you enjoy it :)

cw: period pain, marauders are unbearably sweet and caring

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 943 words

“Feeling any better?” James murmurs, setting a cup of cinnamon tea down in front of you.

Blankets rustle as your hands emerge from inside them, taking the mug. You blow gently before taking a tentative sip. “A bit,” you say, but grimace as another cramp comes to defy you, pain twisting through your abdomen and lower back.

James frowns in sympathy, and Sirius makes a terribly soft soothing sound, petting your head where it rests on his lap. You set your tea back down to cool, curling in on yourself. It’s a feeble protection against the pains that have plagued you since the early hours of the morning, when you’d woken and found yourself unable to go back to sleep, lying curled up in your bed as you throbbed with waves of dull agony.

You’re all supposed to be watching a movie, but try as you might, you can’t focus on anything but the pain. Your tits are sore, your back hurts, and your emotions keep ricocheting from grouchy to teary and back again. Your boyfriends don’t seem able to concentrate on the TV either, taking turns shooting you concerned glances and asking if you need anything. You appreciate their desire to help, you really do, but having to say “no, there’s nothing you can do” over and over again is beginning to grate on your oversensitive nerves.

“Want another pain reliever?” Sirius asks.

You look up at him hopefully. Truly, nothing would make you happier.

“No,” Remus says sternly, his gaze turning sympathetic when it falls on you. “Sorry dove, you’re maxed out. You can’t have more for a couple hours.”

Sirius pouts on your behalf, but you’re not so ready to capitulate. “It’s not going to kill me to have a couple more.”

“Not immediately, but it’s not good for you.”

“I don’t care.”

“You don’t care right now,” Remus reasons, “but you will if your kidneys fail someday because you had half a dozen pills over the course of an hour. Drink your tea, it might help.”

You huff. “None of you know what it’s like.”

Remus softens. “No, we don’t, darling, I’m sorry.”

You don’t want him to be sorry, though maybe you do just a little bit. You wouldn’t wish this torment on your boyfriends, but you can’t help but harbor a tiny bit of resentment for the fact that they’ll go their entire lives without ever understanding what you’re put through for an entire week every month.

Another cramp seizes you, and you press a hand to your stomach to hold your heating pad closer against you, only to find it barely warm. You press the button, waiting a minute for it to start up again. Nothing happens.

You let out a quiet whine, tucking your head under your blanket and bringing your knees further into your chest.

“You alright, sweetheart?” James asks tentatively, and you can practically feel the attention of all three boys as someone lowers the volume on the TV.

“My heating pad broke.”

James makes a pained sound, and then a hand lands on your shoulder, rubbing soothingly through the soft fabric of the blanket. “I’m sorry. Want me to warm you up a water bottle or something? Or maybe one of us can run and get you a new one.”

“Or,” Sirius says pensively, “Remus is always burning. You could try using him, see if that helps.”

You poke your head out from within your nest of blankets in time to see Remus cock an eyebrow at the word use, but when his eyes slide to you they’re contemplative.

“What do you think?” he asks you. “Worth a try?”

You hesitate a moment, unsure if you really want to be touched in your bloated, uncomfortable state. But your cramps are growing noticeably worse without your heating pad, and Remus does run awfully hot… “If you think it’ll help,” you say quietly, a note of pleading in your voice.

Sirius eases your head off of his lap, moving to give Remus room to slip underneath you. You move around a bit, not quite sure of how to position yourself, but it’s no matter, because then Remus is worming his hands between your legs and stomach, wrapping his arms around you. You relax into him, giving James a small smile as he adjusts the blankets over you both.

“Merlin, you’re a furnace,” you breathe appreciatively.

Remus smiles slightly, seeming relieved and a bit proud that he’s able to help. “Is your back hurting you too?”

“Mhm.”

He moves one of his hands from where it’s resting on your side, flattening it over your lower back and pressing down lightly. You sigh as his warmth seeps into you and relaxes your tensed muscles, your eyes closing in bliss.

“Thank you,” you murmur, feeling like you could cry from relief and the exhaustion that’s catching up to you now that your pain is abating. “Sorry for being mean.”

You feel Remus’ chuckle rumble through his chest. “You weren’t mean, love. You’re just grumpy, and I understand. Don’t worry about it.”

“You make it very hard to despise all of mankind when you guys are this sweet to me, you know.”

“Ah, well then, our work here is done,” Sirius says, poking teasingly at the blankets covering your feet. “You can leave ‘er be now, Remus, our nefarious scheme has been a success.”

You exhale amusedly, but latch on a bit tighter to Remus, just in case he decides to go along with Sirius’ bit.

He chuckles again, resting a hand on the back of your head with reassuring weight. “Don’t worry, dove, I’m not going anywhere.”

#poly!marauders #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders x y/n #poly!marauders x you #poly!marauders fanfiction #poly!marauders fanfic #poly!marauders fic #poly!marauders fluff #poly!marauders imagine #poly!marauders scenario #poly!marauders drabble #poly!marauders oneshot #james potter #james potter x reader #sirius black #sirius black x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader

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m0chisenpai · 1 year

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Hey could I plz request a Jake x Reader (human) x Neytiri - 6 year old Lo’ak just learned how fragile humans are and ever since has refused to leave readers side (reader dosent mind, she loves cuddles with her baby) but this dose mean non of the other kids rlly get any time with her - Jake and Neytiri are starting to miss her (Lo’ak dosent let them near her cuz he’s afraid they’ll accidentally hurt hur). Sorry if it’s complicated, I’m not very good at writing requests 😅

platonic!lo'ak x human!reader

Despite your avatar still being in the incubation period it did not stop you from spending your time with the ones you loved. The process was longer with the limited resources and the old RDA facility being abandoned, but Norm was a genius. Jake had faith in him and sure enough you visited daily to inspect the growth of well…you.

By this time Lo’ak and Netayem, both aged 6 and 7 became accustomed to your presence. The two young boys affectionately called you Sa’nok when they could finally speak and it warmed all of your hearts. However, despite their young age the boys towered over you just like their mother and father.

Jake wouldn’t admit it, but he and Neytiri felt the slight fear watching as you played with the boys. When they’d snap their little fangs at you, and you’d laugh it off Jake wondered what if you hadn't moved your hand fast enough? You would chide at the both of them reminding them who managed to help put an end to the psychopath that was once Quartrich, and they slowly eased off you.

They allowed you to take the boys on playful little explorations during the day not too far which you could agree on. You would watch them play in the forest, but when they would rough house they often wanted you to join. In their defense they fought often with Jake so they did not know any better. Sometimes you’d come back with a teeny scratch or a bruise but it was nothing to scare the boys, they were children still. They didn’t know any better.

But Lo’ak realized you were human when his anger got the best of him. He and Netayem were tugging something back and forth, throwing petty insults at each other. You sighed and stood from the rock going to stand in front of the two boys, “calm down boys now Lo’ak can you let go so you don’t break it? Mama worked hard on it.”

When you went to step forward the object was sent flying and knocked you back onto your butt. The boys instantly ended their bickering once they heard your gasp and ran over to you to apologize. Lo’ak could only watch on with tears in his eyes as you cupped your cheek.

“M’ sorry, sorry! Sa’nok don’t be made please! Accident!” Loa’k whimpered as his brother helped pull you to your feet.

You quickly silenced them and told them you were just surprised is all. You bruhsed away those tear stained blue cheeks and let him hold your hand as you walked back to the Hometree. But that night when You were in the tent with Neytiri, Lo’ak listened in and witnessed the dark bruising on your body.

Neytiri massaged some concoction into the darkened splotches and Lo’ak felt sick to his stomach knowing it was him who caused the pain.

“It is fine Tiri, they are just children.” You hissed between clenched teeth as you rubbed the remainder of the salve over your stomach.

“Yes, but you are still human, my love.”

From that day on Lo’ak made a vow to himself, to you. He would protect you, human or not. He never wanted to see you in pain like that again. He would never be the cause of such a pain ever again.

That night as you all lie together Lo’ak curled his body around you, resting his head on your stomach which rose and fell. Your hands brushed through his dark locks, gently massaging his scalp which in turn lulled him to sleep again.

Lo’ak seemed to cling to you like a newborn babe after that day. It was almost adorable, the way he hissed at his father when he reached a hand down to affectionately rub a hand over your head. What if he crushed you! Jake raised a brow but stepped back.

Both he and Neytiri missed you during those nights where you would fly together. When you'd explore the forest with one another. Who would have thought they would have to compete for your attention against a six year old?

Your darling Netayem was more reserved with his affections like his mother. But when he did seek you out he'd hiss at his brother who was taking up any time he had with you.

"You leech to mama like a baby!" Netayem stomped his foot at his brother.

"No I don't!" Lo'ak snapped leaning nearly close enough to butt head with his oldest brother.

"You do! Mama never gets to spend any time with me any more cause you cling to her!" Netayem hissed and Lo'ak bared his fangs which was more than enough for you to step in between the boys.

"Lo'ak" the boys eyes soften as soon as you step into his sight "I will be fine. "Your brother deserves my time with him. And soon you will have another sibling to share my time with."

And his lip quivered followed by glassy eyes. Your small hand thumbed under those eyes, the eyes of his father. "I just want you safe Sa'nok"

And your heart broke at the crack in his voice and you wrapped your sweet Lo'ak into your arms shushing his whimpers. You looked back at Netayem and he knew to step out and give you both space.

"I know baby. I am human still, but I will be fine. Soon my time will come and you will no longer need to protect me" you whispered into his ear.

"But what if-"

"And if I ever need you, I know a warrior with a mighty heart who will come to my rescue" you cupped his cheeks and pressed your forehead to his.

"'M sorry Sa'nok" he whispered.

"There is no need for apologies, my sweet Lo'ak" you pressed a kiss to his forehead "now, may I please spend some time with Netayem by the water? "

He nodded and you smiled. "Then tonight I'll rebraid your hair and tell you more of my earth stories, hm?" Your smile elicited a small one out of him. So passionate, just like his father.

Outside the tent Jake and Neytiri silently listen in. And when they hear their boy agree to split from you Jake nearly fell to his knees screaming his praises to the Great Mother.

Neytiri rolled her eyes as her mate fell to his knees raising both fists to the sky, "skxwang."

#lo'ak x reader #avatar x reader #avatar way of water #jake x reader x neytiri #neytiri x reader x jake #platonic lo'ak #ask mochi

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scientia-rex · 4 months

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Like, it’s just ridiculous to pretend that the aesthetics of our environments DON’T directly impact our mood. All these “people go too crazy for holidays!” bullshit posts—my sister in law’s is coming to mind—with the idea that if we were REALLY good people we wouldn’t CARE about what the house looks like. It’s such hypocritical bullshit! Yes you WOULD! You’d care about whether things were clean, whether they were tidy, what temperature it was, whether there were comfortable places for you to sit, how bright the lights are, what color—she literally mocked the idea that warm lighting is cozier than cool lighting. It IS! You can be all fucking Calvinist and act like enjoying comfort and beauty is somehow morally BAD, that it makes you “soft,” that REAL men (and of course in this mindset it is always men we are striving to be) sleep in tents in the snow on their fucking military campaigns!! And of course she’s a mom and the JUDGMENT on moms from all directions is so fucked, so naturally she’s defensive, the house has to be clean and tidy and aesthetically pleasing or they’ll get judged to hell and back, most notably by the same kind of people who talk the most shit about “what matters is who you’re with!” as if what we see and feel and smell is immaterial when we know good and goddamn well it’s not.

You know what, let me pick all your outfits for a week according to my taste and then tell me how trivial fashion is as a form of self-expression. I have this great neon t-shirt I had specially made that says “Monarchy is parasitism” that I’m sure you won’t feel at all awkward wearing to church.

It IS true that no amount of aesthetics can give your life meaning. Relationships do that. The people you’re with matter; the most beautiful mansion can be a prison and a hell with the wrong person or people in it with you. But I will not fucking apologize for going full Martha Stewart on holidays now that I CAN. I’m going to have a beautiful warm well-lit home that smells like mulled wine at Christmastime! I’m going to have spooky spiders and skeletons at Halloween! And if you don’t like it, do what our venerable forbears did: suck it up and wait until you get home to complain ONLY to your spouse, not the whole fucking Internet!

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randoimago · 5 months

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Hi! I saw your requests were open and wanted to throw a kinda chaotic one at you! How would Shadowheart and Karlach react to find their Tav sleeping in the strangest places? Like why are they just snoozing on the ground when the bed is right there? Oh shit they’re laying in a tree like a jungle cat! Tiny closet at an Inn, oh look Tav is in there. How the fuck did they get to that tiny ledge on the cliff wall? Oh guess they climbed up because there’s a sunny spot, well they’re only twelve feet up I’m sure they’ll get down somehow

Finding Tav Sleeping in Random Ass Places

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Character(s): Karlach, Shadowheart

Type of Request: Headcanons

Note(s): Chaotic asks are fun especially with the chaotic shit that you can do in BG3

Karlach

The first few times, she got a bit worried when she couldn't find you. Her calling out to you like a lost cat probably woke you up from wherever you slept.

But then she learns that you sometimes burrow into hollowed out tree trunks and nap. Her claustrophobia would never allow her to do that, but good on you getting some sleep! Karlach can't help but make a pained face at imagining what kind of joint pain you'll have.

Karlach would attempt to take naps with you, but she can't. She's too big for most of your sleeping spots or she doesn't want to commit to how high up they are. Now, if you wanted to fall asleep while slung over her shoulder or something then she'd be happier with it.

Shadowheart

She's asking around camp about where you went because she wants to talk about something. It isn't until she sees the rustling in a tree and notices that it's you and not a squirrel that she lets out a, "Huh."

She's very amused with the spots you sleep in. Just call for her if you're attacked by an angry bird or something and you need healing.

While it is amusing to see all the random places you sleep, she would like to actually lay in a bed or in a tent to sleep with you (in more ways then one). Might make some "You know, I wouldn't be using all my spell slots to heal if you slept normally," comments due to healing any scrapes or fall damage that occured from you getting out of whatever spot you were sleeping in.

Taglists: @reo-the-leo @unhelpfulnpc

#littlethingsbigpicture #baldurs gate x reader #bg3 x reader #shadowheart x reader #karlach x reader

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blobpsycho · 7 months

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This gif perfectly encapsulates what I love about Tome. All girls have been this gif. Like remember having undiagnosed mental issues and your family makes you go on an outing that should be fun but you’re just pissed off constantly because youre a 14 year old girl? Tome gets it.

Like YOU’RE GOING SOMEWHERE TO DO SOMETHING THAT SPECIFICALLY PERTAINS TO YOUR INTERESTS. But youre a 14 year old girl and nobody will ever take you seriously and you’ve just got this pit of hopelessness in your stomach despite the fact that nothing is technically wrong

so even though youre on an outing planned for you you can’t shake the feeling that everyone is just making fun of you for being so upset over seemingly nothing. These are your friends and family, you deep down they wouldnt do that, but why else would they go out of their way?

They certainly wouldn’t do it for you, right? I mean nothing’s even technically wrong. You’re just being a crybaby and they all must think youre just being a dramatic teenage girl. And you are and you know that you are so why can’t you just get over it and be normal?

And when you finally can’t take the pain that’s screaming in your chest because everything feels wrong wrong and everything is going wrong and everything is wrong wrong wrong you can’t help but cry. And you’re embarrassed and you’re furious and you’re supposed to be mature and you’re supposed to not care but you cry.

Crying feels worse than the growing internal discomfort did because now everyone is looking at you. They’re staring in uncomfortable suprise at what you’re sure is the most unsuprising sight in the world - a 14 year old girl crying. You want to go home but you can’t. You’re 14. You can’t do anything on your own.

You react to the terrifying ordeal of being reacted to the only way you know how - with anger. You monologue through hot tears and sobs and snot how you didn’t even wanna be here and how you just *know* everyone is just doing this to make fun of you and how they should just go on ahead and leave you wherever you are (you know this can’t happen. They wouldn’t leave a 14 year old girl somewhere unfamiliar on her own) and something in you hopes that they’ll yell back, that they’ll treat you like you’re irrational and make you feel justified in your anger.

…But that doesn’t happen. The silence persists but you realize that it’s more contemplative than judgemental. They’re not afraid of you, though you think they should be. Rather than letting them say something sentimental about caring and being concerned or any sappy bullshit that will only serve to make you cry more, you wipe your face on your sleeve continue on your journey.

The day gets better. After everyone gathers that no, you don’t wanna talk about it, it almost feels like nothing happened to begin with- besides the slight exhaustion you feel every time you blink and the intense stress sweat you choose to blame on anything else.

By the time you get home, the day is mentally logged as a good day. You decide - albeit tentatively - that maybe you’re going to be ok. Maybe you won’t be a 14 year old girl forever.

You go to bed and have the best sleep you’ve had in months.

#mp100 #tome kurata #ramblings #free to rb #though I’m sure nobody will LOL this is not anything #i didnt even mean to write all that #tome just brings out everything in me #like i see her and its like looking at me when i was in middle school #sorry if this is stupid i am not a writer #i genuinely hate writing so I’m suprised this exists #everything about here makes my heart ache with familiarity and love #mob psycho 100 #tome mob psycho #something about being 14 #being a 14 year old audhd unpopular girl who has yet to find out shes a lesbian is something tome could do in her sleep #and i salute her for that bc i also did that once #idgaf about the military they have nothing on being a 14 year old girl

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daechwitatamic · 2 months

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Of Ruin: Chapter 15 | KTH

(banner by @itaeewon)

Of Ruin (Masterpost)

Rating: NSFW - minors dni Genre: vampire!au magic!au royalty!au, s2l, slow burn, eventual smut, angst and fluff

Summary: Taehyung of House Rune, Prince of Infracticus has been cursed. You’re the human world’s leading curse-breaker. It should be simple. But unraveling the curse becomes the least of your problems in the face of a world on the brink of civil war… and the love you start to feel for the prince.

A/N: Thank you endlessly to @sailoryooons for betaing!!! 💕

Section Warnings: angst, kissing, not explicit penetrative sex wc: 5k

All of you need sleep. You and Namjoon had pulled an all-nighter in his grandfather’s office last night, writing the countercurse. Taehyung had spent the night, as he does every night, fighting to get out of his rooms, trying to hunt. Probably Jimin slept, but he’d also just fought off at least four Score soldiers.

Taehyung offers to let you sleep in his quarters, but you decline, wanting to practice the countercurse in private, work on the phrasing, and sit alone with your decision.

When his face falls, you step closer, pressing your palm to his cheek. He closes his eyes, exhausted, and leans into the touch.

“You should sleep,” you tell him gently. “Do you want my help?”

He shakes his head, and you lower your hand.

“No,” he says. “The cabinet is about to meet to discuss this morning’s attack. I imagine… Seokjin’s father will be arrested. Or, at least, an attempt will be made.”

“Have you heard from them?” you ask, meaning Seokjin and Jungkook.

Taehyung shakes his head. “I’ll find out soon enough - either they’ll be listed among the dead soldiers, or they’ll have gotten away. I don’t know anything yet.”

“Let me come back tonight?” you ask. “I want to know what’s happening.”

You’re not sure why you feel so tentative about it, after everything you’ve gone through together. You know by now that he wants you there. But it still feels, in your bones, like you’re stepping into a role that doesn’t belong to you, that you should not be allowed to claim.

“After supper?” he suggests. “Will that give you enough time?”

You shrug. “I would certainly hope so.”

You spend the rest of the day in your own rooms; Namjoon paces, anxious over Satuel.

“I think she’ll be okay,” you try to reassure him. “Taehyung’s a strong healer. Her speaking to us was a good sign.”

After a while, you rise and go to take a shower. You have dried vampire blood caked on your hands.

—

You go to Taehyung’s rooms earlier than planned. You meant to wait for him to summon you, but you are - like Namjoon - itching to find out if there’s news about Satuel, news about Seokjin, news about the attack. You’re itching to let the prince wrap his arms around you, to find comfort from the horrors you’d faced together only hours ago.

You’re surprised when Namjoon waves you off, surprised again when Dansoo agrees to escort you to the prince’s wing without an invitation.

Things are changing around here, you realize. People are starting to treat you like you belong in the prince’s rooms, like it’s natural for you to be there instead of in your own space.

When his personal guards open the door to let you in, you expect to find Taehyung on one of the couches, long legs stretched before him. Instead, his front room is empty. You continue on, calling his name, peering into the bedroom where you’d slept after your first night - and morning - together.

It’s empty as well.

You find him in what looks like an office, tall bookshelves flanking a floor-to-ceiling window that looks out over the sea. Taehyung stands with his back to you, head bowed, one hand played flat on the wood of the desk at the center of the room, his other hand buried in his hair.

“Taehyung?” you say quietly, taking a single step into the silent room.

He doesn’t turn. His shoulders shake. In the quiet, you can hear him take a shuddering breath.

“Tae?” you venture. You’re scared, suddenly. Did Satuel not make it? Seokjin, or Jungkook? Has Taehyung’s plan fallen apart before it could even begin?

When he turns, his eyes are red-rimmed and jet-black.

“What’s wrong?” you ask in a whisper. You’re so scared of the answer you can barely speak.

“I can’t do this,” he tells you, hoarse, almost sounding like his cursed self.

You step forward slowly, regarding him. “Which part?” you ask.

He shakes his head, chest jumping as he struggles to control his breathing. “Any of it. All of it. I’m not… I’m not smart enough for this, I’m not capable enough - I thought I could just wipe out hundreds of thousands of years of my people’s way of ruling and just… make my own?”

He starts pacing, and you watch him, worry starting to churn behind your belly button.

“Your plan is good,” you say firmly. “It’s good, Taehyung, and it’s important.”

“What if it fails?” he asks you, his voice breaking like shattered glass, littering the carpet between you. “What if I take power from my father, rip down tradition, and it just leads to more killing, more centuries of war? What if all I accomplish is the ruination of my house?”

“Then we try again,” you say, overcome by the urge to sweep up his fractured pieces and cup them in your bleeding hands. “If the first try fails, we step back and figure out a new way forward. That’s what you’re forgetting, Taehyung - you’re not alone. You’re not doing this on your own.”

He looks at you, unchanged, unconvinced.

“You want something better for everybody - something more fair, something that keeps your father’s actions from ever happening again. You’re willing to focus on what’s right, not what’s best for you… and people will see that. People will support you. If you’re forced to try another way, you’ll have the other houses behind you.”

“And if I succeed?” he counters, his expression hollow, his voice shaking. “I promised everyone justice. What if, for my father… justice means death?”

“You’ll be King by then,” you whisper. “Can’t you make sure that doesn’t happen?”

“That’s what I’m fighting against!” he shouts, a fist slamming the desk beside him before coming to cover his mouth. He bends around it, caving in with grief. Your hands itch to reach for him, to pull him close, to soothe his hurts. “If I am being fair, if I am being good, and right, and all that other bullshit you just told me I stand for - wouldn’t I let him face the justice he deserves?”

You don’t answer this. You don’t think you should.

He lowers his fist, meets your eyes again. Tears leak gently over his cheekbones, and you feel yourself welling up in response.

“I know what he did was terrible,” Taehyung whispers, still hoarse. “But he’s my father, and I love him. How can I be the one demanding he go to trial? Even if he lives, how could he ever forgive me?”

You close the space between you, unsure if he’ll allow you to comfort him. To your surprise, he lets you wrap yourself around him, leans his head into the crook of your neck and continues to cry silently, his hands coming around you to cup your shoulder blades.

You run a hand down his back slowly, again and again, and say nothing. When his breaths shudder less, you lean and press a kiss to the back of his head.

“You gave him the chance,” you point out. “He chose to continue. He knows he was wrong. He’ll know you’re trying to be a good king, even if it makes you an imperfect son.”

He lets out a watery laugh. “I’ve always been an imperfect son. I came to peace with that hundreds of years ago.”

“It’s your choice to make,” you tell him gently. “I’ll support you either way.”

His laugh turns a little bitter, but he removes himself from your neck and sits tall again, still leaning against his desk, you standing between his legs.

“Seokjin won’t,” he says darkly. “If I pardoned him, showed him any mercy at all, I’d lose all the Scores. Other families, too. There’s only one right move if I want support. It just happens to suck.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, reaching up to smooth down his hair, to brush tear-tracks away with your thumbs. His eyes are still as black as tar; he’s too distraught to worry about changing them. “I’m sorry everything happened this way.”

He sighs, as if to say, me too.

You hold each other for a while longer. Outside the large window, night falls in full, leaving you two standing in the dim light of one little desk lamp.

“What happened today?” you ask finally.

He untangles himself from you and leads you by the hand back to his main room. You settle on one of the couches there, and he rubs at his face, as if he can scrub away the exhaustion, the hurt, the uncertainty.

“My father sent an Officer to arrest Seokjin’s father. They couldn’t find him - he wasn’t there. I haven’t heard from Seokjin, but he’s supposed to meet with me in a few days to discuss my next steps.”

“They won’t arrest him?”

“He’s not his father,” Taehyung says darkly. “Just like I’m not mine.”

“So then… what is the next step?”

He shakes his head, hating every second of this. “In the morning,” he says, voice full of defeat, “you’ll help me blackmail my father.”

Your brow furrows. “I thought you said he’d agree to transfer power.”

Taehyung grimaces. “He wants what I’m offering. I think he’ll agree. But in case he gives us a hard time… you’re my secret weapon.”

You give him a look. He answers it with a wry smile that doesn’t meet his eyes.

“You’re going to tell him you won’t counter the curse unless he gives up the crown.”

“Taehyung!” you gasp. “I can’t do that! You want me to say that to him? The King?”

“I do,” Taehyung says seriously. “It might be the only bargaining chip we have.”

“I can’t,” you whine. But you know you will. You’d do anything Taehyung asked you - as if that wasn’t already clear by the way you’re willing to toss away your mortal existence for his life.

“We don’t have another choice,” he says grimly.

You sit in silence for a little. You’re thinking about the gravity of what you’re about to do - to back the king of Infracticus into a corner, to essentially blackmail him into giving up the crown. Then, helping Taehyung dismantle the monarchy.

God.

“There’s something else,” Taehyung says, pulling you from your thoughts, his voice tight.

“Oh?”

He’s shy, suddenly, avoiding your gaze. “One of the things I’m promising… in exchange for the crown. Part of Father’s motivation when he choreographed all those attacks was… he’s worried about the bloodline. He’s worried I won’t marry, won’t carry on our name. So, in exchange for him transferring the crown to me, I’m promising him that I’ll marry.”

Your heart doesn’t drop to your feet; rather, it dissipates into nothing, leaving you a shell full of unmoving blood. You stare at him, unable to make a peep.

He shifts. “I don’t want you to feel stuck, or trapped, or pressured,” he says, finally peeking up at you. “And it’s important to me that you know that I’d want this even if we removed everything - the curse, my plan for after, all of it. But… I’d really like to walk in there tomorrow and promise him that someday, soon… I’ll marry you.”

“Taehyung,” you whisper, but he doesn’t say anything else, just opens a small, velvet jewelry case that looks about as old as he really is.

“If something changes later, we’ll deal with it,” he says, reading your mind. “But I’ve been alive for six hundred years and never wanted someone at my side the way I do with you.”

The ring is silver, the jewel a deep blue - Rune house colors. You reach for it with shaking hands and then stop, looking up at him.

“I -” you stutter, “I can’t - I don’t deserve this. I’m -”

“If you say you’re nothing to me again, I swear -” he threatens, mouth pulling into a frown.

Your shaking fingertips trace the jewel. “Are you sure?” you ask him, hushed, afraid of his answer.

“If you aren’t with me,” he says seriously, “then I don’t even want to see the other side of this.”

“Okay,” you say, meeting his eyes, hands leaving the velvet box and reaching for his hands instead, needing to be closer, needing to feel him. You feel breathless, dizzy, out of body. It’s like someone else is pushing the words out of you when you breathe, “If you’re sure, then… yes. Yes.”

He kisses you, deep, a hand lingering near your jaw, reverent. “My love. My venefici,” he whispers, kissing you between each title. “My Queen.”

You shoot him a wry smile. “Not yet,” you say.

You spend the night in the prince’s bed. When the clock ticks into tomorrow and the beast curls its lip at you, you kiss him on the nose, call him by his name, and tell him, “Ask nicely.” When he’s done, tongue pressing against the tender wound he’d made on your throat, he wraps you in his arms to sleep.

—

King Sunjae seems to know that his son is up to something. As soon as he enters the room - the same small place you’d tried the previous, failing counter-curses - his eyes are narrowed on you and Taehyung, expression cloudy.

“You requested an audience?” he asks, mock-politely, a sneer all over the words.

“I did,” Taehyung says evenly, his palms pressed flat to the tabletop. You know he’s nervous, know he spent most of the morning practicing with you, rehearsing what he wanted to say. “I came to make a deal with you.”

“A deal,” the King repeats coldly. “I thought we already had a deal.”

“You broke it,” Taehyung says flatly, no room for argument. “I consider it null and void.”

The King lets out a sarcastic whiff of a laugh. “And yet you’ve come to make another.”

Taehyung shifts beside you, his own tone growing chillier. “Not without insurance.”

King Sunjae’s eyes narrow again. “Explain yourself,” he says, a command.

“I’m offering you the same promises I made last time,” Taehyung says, just like you’d practiced together. “A marriage - eventually, an heir.”

The King scoffs, coming very close to rolling his eyes. “You strung me along with that little lie for a year, Taehyung.”

“I’ll let you set the date,” Taehyung counters, and you thrill a little watching the King stiffen as he starts to put the pieces together. “We’ll wed as soon as you want us to.”

The King’s eyes flash to your hands, alighting on the deep blue jewel adorning your finger. You smile beatifically at him. He has no idea how much you’re about to piss him off.

The King’s eyes flash back to Taehyung. “And in exchange?” he bites, as if he already knows, can already intuit that this is a deal not in his favor.

“The crown,” Taehyung says coolly, and you’re filled with pride so strong you want to reach for him, but you clench your hands into fists at your side instead. “You’ll transfer power to me now, and my Queen and I will take over ruling - effective immediately.”

The King stares at him, incredulous, clearly calculating. You watch it all over his face as he tries to find the catch - it’s like offering a fish in exchange for a house. He knows Taehyung’s not stupid enough to walk in here with that bad of a suggestion without, as he’d said minutes ago, some kind of insurance - and he’s trying to figure out what it is.

“If you agree,” you say, trying to match Taehyung’s cold tone, the way you’d practiced in his rooms, “then we’ll set a date for Prince Taehyung’s coronation and begin the preparations.”

King Sunjae sneers. “And if I don’t agree?”

You shrug. “Then I won’t counter his curse.” Insurance.

For a second, you think he’s going to attack you. Taehyung must, too, because he pulls you away from the table, just behind him.

King Sunjae manages to control himself, letting out a hissing breath between his teeth. Jaw still clenched, he manages, “Then I’ll hire someone else.”

“Good luck,” you say, though it’s harder to sound tough now that Taehyung’s tugged you behind him. “You might have trouble finding someone else willing to end their life to save his.”

The King isn’t stupid. He’s lived in the magical world for centuries longer than you have. He knows what you’re saying. He knows what it means.

His face darkens. The three of you are silent for a long time, Taehyung’s hand still protectively wrapped around your forearm, his eyes on his father’s.

The King must know he’s got no move. Taehyung has him in checkmate.

“Let me speak to your mother first,” he says. It’s a request, and a command, and, somehow, an admittance of defeat.

“I’m glad you’ve seen reason,” Taehyung says stonily.

The King stares at him, long and hard. Nervously, you shift behind Taehyung, the King’s glare coming in and out of view.

“And what will become of me after?” the King asks. “My spies tell me you’ve been running around using words like justice. Will I be facing justice, my son?”

The words land like knives. You remember Taehyung last night, mourning his father’s life, mourning their relationship.

“You will,” Taehyung says steadily. “And so will I.”

The King closes his eyes, just like Taehyung does when he has heard something he hates. Like father, like son. “Go,” he says, flapping a hand towards the door. “Go, you fool, and I don’t want to see you again until I call for you.”

—

When his father does send for him, Taehyung convinces you to stay behind.

He feels like a teenager again when he goes to his parents’ wing, ready to be scolded. He wishes he had brought you, despite the danger, just because having you at his side helps ground him, makes him braver.

They don’t speak to him when he arrives, just watch him with unblinking eyes and matching frowns.

“This would have happened eventually,” Taehyung says, by way of greeting. “It’s just sooner.”

Neither of them respond to this.

They sit around a large table, and stiffly, formally discuss the specifics. The coronation ceremony will take place in a week, to make time to prepare for celebrations. The King and Queen will send a joint statement tomorrow, announcing the news. To the public, this will be a planned and welcomed decision.

“When will she cure you?” the Queen asks, a bit of a bite on ‘she’.

“As soon as the crown is on my head,” Taehyung bites back.

“And the wedding?” The King asks, eyes narrowed.

Taehyung shrinks a little. “I’d like to give her time to… heal, and adjust, after turning. So… after?”

His parents look at each other, a silent conversation between partners of hundreds of years.

“As soon as she’s able, we’ll all meet together to discuss the timeline,” the Queen says finally.

Taehyung hates how much this feels like bargaining, how much it feels like asking permission.

Soon, though, he reminds himself, it won’t matter what they decide. Once the crown is his, he can do what he wants.

It’s not as comforting as he’d like.

“I want you to understand something,” Taehyung says, as it becomes clear that everything that needs to be decided now has been handled. His parents look back at him, disinterested.

Taehyung wonders if a day will ever come where they forgive him.

“When I asked you why, a year ago,” he says, pressing forward, looking at his father, “you said it was for us. For the Runes. I want you to understand that I’m doing this for our house, too.”

“Destroying it?” the King clarifies sarcastically.

“Stabilizing it,” Taehyung counters hotly. “Making it stand for something. Making sure all of us, all of Infracticus, don’t turn back into the thing we left behind.”

“So noble,” the King scoffs.

“We’ll be better for this,” Taehyung says. He hopes it’s a promise he can keep. “All of us.”

—

You go home.

This time, with permission. This time, with Namjoon.

This time, knowing you’ll be right back.

You have to go - you have things to handle: a job to quit, an apartment lease to break, belongings to sell or donate.

You work everything out with Taehyung the day before you go. While he’s helping his mother plan a coronation ceremony, you’ll be emptying years of belongings into garbage bags.

“Where will I stay when I come back?” you’d asked Taehyung, one sleepy morning, as you lay between his arms, your mind skipping ahead to plan your time above.

“Where do you want to stay?” he’d asked, his voice like honey, seeping over you just as slow and sweet.

“In a sea-side house with a turret,” you’d replied, and he’d giggled, pulling you close, remembering this joke of yours.

“Considering the ring…” he’d said, when he let you go again. “It would be appropriate to give you your own wing in the palace, for now.”

When you’d opened your mouth, he’d cut you off. “Don’t tell me you don’t deserve it. Maybe I just want my venefici close.”

You’ve gotten used to hearing the term as an honored position, and not a wound.

So now you’re here, in your old apartment, deciding what few things are worth bringing back to the palace. Namjoon, as far as you know, is just getting a few days off - time to see his family, his friends. He’ll return to Infracticus with you before the coronation.

You miss Infracticus the whole time you’re gone. You miss the ancient, mysterious palace corridors. You miss the roaring ocean and the amarisca. You miss the impossibly purple sky.

You miss Taehyung’s voice, his hands, his mouth. You miss his smile, his laugh, his heavy gaze.

You even miss Satuel and Dansoo.

You cave on the second night and ask Namjoon if he wants to get a beer.

“Sorry, with my family,” he sends you back. He follows it quickly with, “you’ll be back in no time”.

Not soon enough, you think.

—

Your return to Infracticus is a jarring experience, a stark opposite from the first time you’d passed through the Ostium.

Then, it had been in the dead of night, sneaking in under heavy cloaks.

This time, you and Namjoon are greeted warmly, brought into sparkling sunlight, where a coach waits.

“Welcome, sperasa,” the Ostium attendant says, and you look at Namjoon with wide eyes.

“What?” he asks, as you climb into the coach. “What’s wrong? What did she call you?”

“Betrothed,” you tell him, eyes still wide.

The coach takes you to the palace’s front entrance. You’ve never come in or out of the palace this way before, and it’s unnerving. You feel like a spectacle, but Taehyung greets you in the majestic, open atrium. He sweeps you into his arms, kisses your head, doesn’t seem to care that there are members of the court families milling about.

“I suppose I’m not a secret anymore,” you murmur.

“No, my love,” he says, smiling down at you. “You’re not the human here to break my curse. You’re the Highest, here to marry her hunter.”

“Cheesy,” you complain, but you’re smiling, your cheeks hot.

“And true,” he says, looking at you sideways.

He brings you to your wing - your wing - of the palace, eager to show it off. Namjoon tags along, smiling openly, out of curiosity.

“You might as well get used to them,” Taehyung points out as he leads you up the staircase towards your new set of golden doors. “After you turn, these are the rooms you’ll be recovering in.”

A shiver runs through you, equal parts thrill and terror.

—

Taehyung grew up knowing he’d be king someday. As a small boy, he’d been taught to conduct himself as a prince. As a young man, he’d been taught to think of the greater good, to be fair, to be wise.

Two out of three, he figured, wasn’t bad.

He’d imagined his coronation thousands of times. He’d imagined whose faces he’d see in the crowd, the music they’d play, what they’d eat, what he’d wear.

He’d never once imagined that he’d wake up, his final morning as Prince of Infracticus, to a smile on his lover’s face. Yet here you are, smiling at him, reaching up to cup his cheek as you kiss him gently.

“Maiesti,” you whisper reverently, a slight tremble to your voice. You say it again when he presses your knees wide, sinks himself deep inside you, rocks against the heat he finds there. Maiesti, you say, but it’s his name you gasp when you come around him, his name you breathe when he pierces the skin above your collarbone, watching the hollow space there fill with crimson.

He knew he’d have a team come make a fuss over his appearance - setting his hair just so, holding up top after top to his chest before pulling them away in search of another. He’d never imagined he’d spend that whole time wishing you were still in the room with him, giggling at the worst options, catching his eye in the mirror.

“Bring my sperasa to my rooms as soon as she’s ready,” he tells his staff. “I want her with me.”

When you appear in his doorway, it takes his breath away. How they’ve done you up, the gown they’ve draped you in - you could pass for Infracti. You could pass for a Queen.

He almost ruins the whole thing by throwing himself at you.

He’d imagined the crowd hundreds of times - all the court families in place. He’d never imagined how he’d heave in relief to see the Scores in attendance, Seokjin at the front, as he belongs. The throne room is full to the brim with Infracti from all the influential families dressed in finery.

His parents sit in their thrones at the front of the room, waiting for him to approach. He’d never imagined that on the day of his coronation their gazes on him as he approached them would feel chilling rather than proud. And yet.

He’d never imagined that the thing that calmed him might be a witch’s hand slipping into his as he walks to the front of the room.

You walk slowly, hand in hand, up the center of the room. Taehyung can feel your pulse slamming in your palm, can hear your heart screaming in fear, can smell your nerves. He gives your hand a squeeze. He’s not sure what’s scaring you most - the crowd of monsters, everyone’s attention on you, or what’s going to happen at the other end of the room. But he’s here- he’s here, and he won’t let anyone touch you.

They’d used you as a cover - to distract from the untraditional transfer of power, they’d announced the engagement. To the court families, it looked like Taehyung was taking power early in conjunction with his nuptials, accepting the crown early to start his rule with his new Queen. It was a good lie. Hardly a lie at all.

Taehyung had imagined his coronation hundreds of times. He’d always imagined this walk alone.

It’s so much better this way.

At the front of the room, he turns to face his people. You step to the side, and Satuel comes to flank you, as planned. Taehyung knows Jimin is nearby too, just in case.

One of the Elders runs the ceremony, standing at a podium to read ancient Infracti out of a book the size of a toy poodle, its yellowed pages flaking. Taehyung tunes it out, floating pleasantly as his eyes skim the crowd. He spies Jimin and Jungkook, and his eyes catch on many of his father’s cabinet members. He wonders absently if any of them will be in his cabinet, or if he should start from scratch.

Eventually, the crown is placed on a dais. He turns and places a hand on it, the cool metal spikes poking into the skin of his palm. His father rises and comes to face him, placing his own meaty hand on the crown.

His father’s black eyes bore into him, and Taehyung wants to wither.

I’m sorry, he wants to say.

You did this to yourself, he wants to point out.

I gave you the chance to stop.

I’m going to do a better job than you.

None of it matters. The Elder is saying the archaic words, Taehyung’s father hates him, and time ticks on.

The crown is lifted, placed carefully on Taehyung’s head. It’s cold and heavy and he can’t wait to take it off again, but he can’t think about that right now. The Elder is speaking, declaring, “Taehyung of Rune, King of Infracticus,” and it feels like the whole fucking room is holding its breath.

This is the moment. His people will either accept or reject him.

In the front row, Seokjin slides to his knees and bows.

The Scores follow. Then the Cleaves. Then, Taehyung’s own house, the Runes. The other houses fall one by one until the only eyes still on Taehyung are the Elder’s, his parents’, and yours.

You settle on your knees, that silver slip of a dress pooling around you, and you bow deeply.

“My King,” you say. “Maiesti.”

When everyone has risen, Taehyung faces his people. He takes one last, desperate look at you. He steels himself, and calls for the arrest of his father.

Then, he leaves his people to feast and revel, and leads you through a passageway behind the imposing thrones.

He will have no more nights as prince. He will have no more nights as a beast, either.

You’ll break his curse tonight.

Through the narrow, stone passageway, he leads you by the hand.

He leads you to your death. <- Prev |

thanks for reading :)

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ily-fictional-women · 7 months

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I can kinda imagine a part 2 that shows reader and nat starting a relationship and its all very slow and tentative and hesitant because nat’s never done this before and shes soft and shy and awkward or maybe reader and nat maybe in a relationship now and its just super cute and domestic and shows how soft nat is and how wrong the rumours about her are maybe things like she steals hoodies and likes to be the little spoon and stuff like that

I can kinda see this as like its own au with lots of little one shots if you can’t tell 😂

Secrets | Rumors part 2

Summary: Secrets do more damage than good.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader + platonic!Maria Hill x fem!reader

Warnings: None that I know of but if I should add anything let me know

Word count: 1966

a/n: I’ve been meaning to write this part two. If you haven’t read the first part though it still reads pretty well by itself. (Reblogs are welcome and critiques/advice are heavily encouraged, but please no translating.)

Natasha tosses her bag to the side quickly closing the door behind her, “That was a disaster.” Y/n simply shrugs grinning, “At least you didn’t get stabbed with lab equipment this time.” Letting out a small laugh Natasha rolls her eyes at Y/n as she begins changing out of her mission clothes.

Y/n glances at her phone, “They’ll be here in about ten hours so we have a lot of time.” Natasha flops onto the hotel bed reaching out a hand to Y/n, “Come to bed then, it’s late.”

“Oh no, it’s okay Nat. I’m not that tired.” Natasha looks at Y/n seriously, “Y/n, we have been up and awake for 48 hours. Come to bed, please.” Y/n rubs her eyes, “Alright fine.” After changing her clothes Y/n climbs into bed holding Natasha by her waist turning the nightstand lamp off.

Feeling the warm light coming through the window Natasha starts to feel herself wake up. Sleepily moving her hand across the bed her hand lands on Y/n’s thigh. Remembering Y/n is usually the one to sleep in Natasha sits up squinting her eyes trying to wake up.

“When did you wake up? And what time is it?” Y/n flips a page in the book she’s reading, “It’s six o’clock so you still have about an hour before extraction gets here.” Natasha sleepily glares at Y/n.

“You’re avoiding the more important question Y/n. When did you wake up?” Not taking her eyes off the book Y/n simply replies, “I didn’t wake. I told you I couldn’t sleep. So I waited for you to fall asleep so I could read.”

Natasha bites the inside of her cheek hesitantly resting a hand on top of Y/n’s motioning for her to close the book. Y/n finally focuses her gaze on Natasha, Natasha kisses Y/n’s forehead quickly, “Just tell me when you can’t sleep next time okay?”

“Okay, I will,” Y/n smiles assuringly.

After finishing the debrief with Fury, Natasha and Y/n walk out of the office. “You want to get lunch?” Y/n glances at the clock on her phone, “I can’t I’m planning on doing the mission report right now. And after that, I planned on meeting Maria in the training center to spar. I’ll meet you up for dinner though, yeah?”

“Yeah that works,” Natasha looks down starting to play with Y/n’s hands nervously. “You’ve been awake for a long time though so just please get some sleep in between.”

Pulling away her hands Y/n quickly snaps at Natasha, “I’m not tired! Alright? Just please leave it be.” Not saying another word Y/n quickly walks off to her bunk. She’s hiding something and it’s obvious to Natasha.

Natasha peeks her head through Fury’s office door, “Do you know where I can find Agent Hill? I need to ask her about something.” Fury looks up from his file, squinting his eye at Natasha. “I’m pretty sure she said she’ll be at the firing range right now. Said she wanted to practice her aim for an upcoming stealth mission.”

“Thank you, sir,” Natasha quickly nods her head closing the office door behind her. The firing range was only about two stories below Fury’s office so it wouldn’t be a far trip. But the fact that Y/n was keeping something from her bothered her.

Did Y/n not trust her? What was keeping her up at night? Or more importantly what was keeping her up at night that Y/n couldn’t tell her about? The thoughts intruding on Natasha had swallowed her enough that she hadn’t realized she had gotten to the firing range so quickly.

As Maria fires off the last bullet she unloads the magazine to the gun almost startled by Natasha leaning against the dividers of the firing lanes. “Hey! Romanoff,” Maria gives the redhead a quick grin, “what’s up?”

Natasha crosses her arms, “It’s about Y/n. I’m worried about her.” Maria finishes loading the gun before putting it to the side raising an eyebrow at Natasha. “What do you mean worried? What’s wrong with her?”

“She refuses to sleep. And she just snapped at me a minute ago because I told her she should get some sleep.” Maria scrunches her brows looking down for a moment trying to rack her brain on why Y/n could be acting like this.

Her eyes quickly shoot back up to Natasha, “Wait. What date is it today?”

“May 21st, why?” Maria runs a hand through her hair letting out a loud sigh, “Shit.” Natasha's posture stiffens at Maria’s reaction, “Shit what? What’s wrong with her.”

“Um,” Maria hesitates, “that’s something I can’t be responsible for telling you. But the most I can say is that she doesn’t sleep well around this time and she hasn’t for years. And when she does she doesn’t like it.”

Natasha’s face gets serious, “Could you talk to her for me then?” Maria holds back a small smile, “I can convince her to talk to you. But you’ve been her girlfriend for about three months now. You’ll need to talk to her about this.”

Rubbing the back of her neck nervously Natasha makes her way toward the exit of the firing range, “That’ll work. Thanks, Hill.” Maria picks up the gun again aiming at the target, “Anytime Romanoff!”

Y/n hears a knock on the door to her bunk but she doesn’t get up to answer it. She was falling in and out of sleep every minute trying to finish her mission report. The creaky opening of the door wakes her up though.

Turning in her seat Y/n tries to blink away her sleepiness inevitably giving Maria a sleepy gaze anyway. Maria sits on the bed near Y/n, “You never met me for sparing Y/n.” Y/n’s eyebrows knit together as she glances at the tiny clock on the corner of her computer.

It was about two hours past the time she was supposed to meet Maria. “I don’t remember giving you a key to my room Maria.”

“It was last year, you were assigned on a mission that was supposed to be a week and ended up being four months. You gave me a key to your room just in case something like that happened again so I could give you a supply drop of more of your stuff.”

Silence fills the room for the moment, Y/n had honestly expected Maria to get on her for changing the subject. “She’s worried about you y’know.” Maria had filled the silence and Y/n had somehow wished for it back.

“The nightmares. Are they coming back?” Y/n can feel a lump grow in her throat at Maria’s question. Pressing her hands against her face Y/n lets out a frustrated groan, “Yeah, they just started a few days ago. She wasn’t there for the first one so I was able to get away with not talking about it.”

“Haven’t you been awake for a few days Y/n?” Y/n’s eyes wander her room not wanting to make eye contact with Maria while talking about something like this. Her jaw tightens, “Yeah. Figured I could try and avoid it this year.”

“Y/n…” Maria’s voice is soft. “Talk to her tonight. You know you can’t just avoid this. You need to sleep at some point.”

“And if I don’t?” Y/n’s voice was quiet but bitter. Maria stands up ruffling Y/n’s hair a bit, “Then I’ll tell Fury to put you on probation until you’re deemed fit to come back to work. So talk to her tonight and get some sleep. She cares about you.”

“Okay, I’ll talk to her tonight. You still up to spar though?” Maria laughs out loud at the question, “No, you can’t fight right now. Plus if we did, I’d kick your ass. Then your girlfriend would kick my ass. And that’s a fight I wouldn’t win.”

As Maria makes her way out of the room Y/n manages to smile a little, “I would still kick your ass.” Maria laughs out loud again, “Whatever you say Y/n/l.”

Managing to power through dinner pretending to feel awake Y/n follows Natasha back to her room. With the tiredness weighing Y/n down even more though the need to talk to Natasha slipped her mind.

Closing the door to the bunk Natasha sweetly kisses Y/n on the lips, “You ready for bed?” Rubbing her eye little Y/n nods, “Yeah, I could go to bed right now.” Slipping under the covers, feeling Natasha’s warm body next to hers, Y/n falls asleep for the first time in days.

But that's the catch. She fell asleep, so the nightmares followed. The old memories came in flashes. First the ringing in the ears. Then that closing-in feeling. Then the screaming. Then the blood. Then the- there’s whispers. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up Y/n.

Immediately Y/n gasps awake sitting up feeling tears start to stream down her face gasping for air trying to breathe. “Hey- hey. Detka, breathe. Slow breaths.” Y/n felt one of Natashas' hands come up and rest on her chest to feel her breath.

The touch itself started to calm Y/n’s nerves, and her breathing started to slow. But the tears didn’t stop, they just kept going no matter how much Y/n kept cocking her head back. Noticing Y/n struggling Natasha quickly pulled her into a long tight hug.

As the tears stopped Natasha pulled her away to look at her brushing away a few stray tears. “Y/n, what was that?” Y/n runs a hand through her hair sniffling, “It was just a nightmare, go back to bed.”

Natasha puts a hand on Y/n’s cheek having Y/n look at her, “It wasn’t just a nightmare. You were crying and thrashing around in your sleep. Just tell me what’s wrong.” Y/n moves Natasha’s hand holding onto it.

“Back when I was a Marine with Maria, uh, I had to go on a mission with some newer people I didn’t know. We were on our way back to base, but we had to camp out for the night. We were ambushed when we were sleeping though. I was the only one to make it out with injuries that didn’t kill me. Today’s the sixth anniversary of this happening.”

Natasha’s grip on Y/n’s hand tightens, “So is that why you don’t like working in teams?” Y/n lets out a dry laugh, “Yeah, you could say that.” Natasha inches closer to Y/n, “So do you get these nightmares a lot?”

Y/n shrugs drying off the last few stray tears with her free hand, “I used to for about the first two years. But now they just usually come back around the day it happened. In fact, the first year when Maria went on leave with me and slept on the floor next to my bed in my apartment at the time to make sure I was okay.”

“Then I’ll stay awake.” Y/n looks up at Natasha tears starting to well up in her eyes again, “What?” Natasha squeezes her hand, “I’ll stay awake. I’ll make sure you get sleep. You can lay your head on my chest. And if the nightmares come back I’ll be right here to wake you up.”

“Okay,” Y/n whispers. As Natasha hears the confirmation she pulls Y/n close, her head on her chest drawing shapes onto her shoulder whispering ‘it’ll be okay’ quietly over and over until Y/n fell asleep. And then the nightmares didn’t come back.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x female #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fluff #black widow #nick fury #maria hill #maria hill x reader #nightmare comfort #angst

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bridenore · 3 months

Text

HD fic recs : Career - Aurors (part 2)

Here are a few recs where both Harry and Draco are Aurors. This is part two of three and focuses on 20k to 50k words fics. Listed in alphabetical order, as always.

Agnus Dei by SilentAuror [20k]

Post-Hogwarts. Mystery abounds in the Auror Department, and two of the Aurors find themselves experiencing a friendship more intense than it should be.

Boiling Point by @goldentruth813 [42k]

Ferveret - n. boiling point After an Auror raid gone wrong, Draco ends up trapped in a dodgy safehouse with nothing but Harry Potter’s dubious company and a dwindling supply of food. With only each other and the walls surrounding them, they’re forced to confront their past and their feelings which have long been threatening to boil over.

Draco Malfoy, Bloodsucking Fiend by @kbrick [23k]

There are two things that Draco’s Auror partner, Harry Potter, must never know about him. One is that he’s a vampire. The other is that he’s been completely, pathetically, head-over-heels in love with Harry for years. But when the duo is trapped inside an old shop on Diagon Alley with no means of escape, Draco finds himself fiending for blood and unable to put even a modicum of distance between himself and the man he can’t stop lusting after.

Eye of the Storm by Mx_Maneater [25k]

A storm rages blindly around a cabin with no doors. Without magic, Draco and Harry are trapped inside.

Nothing But You On My Mind by @moonflower-rose [29k]

Potter has been in Australia on an internship for almost a year, and Draco cannot wait for him to get back home. They’ll finally have a chance to talk about their feelings for each other. What could possibly go wrong? Loads, as it turns out.

The Partner, The Rival and The Very Big Case by oceaxe [24k]

When Harry and Nott are paired up to go undercover as fake boyfriends, Draco is disappointed not to get the assignment. It’s just professional jealousy that’s making him feel so upset. Obviously. He’s engaged to be married to Astoria, after all. But when he walks in on Nott kissing Harry for ‘practice’ and has a wild magic outbreak, he starts to think that something else might be going on. Is Nott right? Is Draco a homophobe? Or is there… just possibly… another explanation?

Poppiholla by @moonflower-rose [12k]

Harry had accepted that he would pine silently for Malfoy forever, but one, humid summer might change that. Hoppípolla by @moonflower-rose [20k] Falling in love was as easy as jumping in puddles, and Draco Malfoy was completely drenched.

Potential Gravity by @lol-zeitgeistic [32k]

Draco is not good at Cards Against Humanity, but Harry’s not good at being human, so it all works out. Except for the explosions. And Harry’s inability to live when Draco’s not around.

Resistance by SilentAuror [25k]

Everyone but Harry seems to have forgiven Malfoy his past, and tensions are thick in the Auror Department.

Stop All the Clocks (This Is the Last Time I’m Leaving Without You) by @firethesound [44k]

Living with Draco was difficult; living without him is unbearable. But if there’s one thing Harry learned from the war, it’s that even when one life ends, the rest of the world goes right on living.

Take These Lies by white_serpent [34k]

Repeatedly rejected by the Auror training programme, Draco Malfoy attempts an unorthodox method of gaining admission.

Trust In A Broken Thing by SqueekaCuomo [23k]

If the ring was broken, that could only mean one thing… Harry Potter was dead.

Two Weeks by @shiftylinguini [21k]

If Harry had to guess which out of he or his Auror Partner, and tentative new friend, Draco Malfoy, would turn out to have Veela ancestry, his answer would be: neither, because that is ridiculous. Finding out the answer is actually him, and that his Veela heritage is wreaking havoc on his ability to work, sleep, and above all be in the same room as Malfoy, is a surprise to say the least. But this is fine. Harry’s been through worse, and he can just sit this one out, regardless of how much his body is screaming for the one person he doesn’t want to ask for help. Can’t he?

Waiting For A Song by @korlaena [49k]

After a couple years spent avoiding Draco in the Auror Department, Harry gets assigned to one of Draco’s strange cases. They investigate the mysterious disappearances of a witch and wizard, but in their search for the missing persons they find a lot more than they were looking for.

You Send Me (Honest You Do) by @firethesound [37k]

As far as potion accidents go in general, and deaging incidents go in particular, Draco knew this could have been so much worse. Harry only lost about ten years, and all his memories are still intact. But the sight of him looking as if he’s stepped straight out of Draco’s Hogwarts memories has dredged up a whole mess of complicated feelings Draco thought he’d buried years ago, and Draco really doesn’t know what to do with any of it.

I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I did!

#my recs #drarry #drarry recs #theme rec

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quiwilove · 5 months

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Like a Tattoo - Prologue

Pairing: Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan x Omatikaya!Reader.

Synopsis: Neteyam’s backstory.

Genre: Angst.

Warnings: Depiction of violence, Mentions of blood, Death, War, Arranged betrothal, Grief, ED, Nightmares. MDNI.

Word-count: 3.1k

Author’s note: This will be a multi-chapter series and I thing having a backstory gives the readers(you!) a better understanding of the characters. If you don’t want to read the prologue it’s totally fine! Also this is my first time publishing a work of mine on tumblr, so be patient with me, please! Write to me if you have any suggestions or advice regarding the story.

Combatants

- At the age of fifteen he had already learned silence.

It was his fourth time at a raid. Everything was planned, calculated to the very last drop.

Jake Sully, the great Olo'eyktan and his father, had stayed till late hours perfecting the plan of their raid. The tent in which they were staying was mostly used for gatherings of all the skilled warriors within the clan including Toruk Makto. The meetings consisted of strategic planning of their upcoming attacks, they would draw on a makeshift map of the area that surrounded the tracks made by their oppressors. The tent was large enough to hold a dozen, it had a lengthy table in the middle making the space feel confined. Air felt thick, hard to breathe in.

Jake Sully had his hands pressed against the rough wood, eyebrows furrowed and eyes searching for an answer that could not be seen. Neteyam wondered if his father’s muscles were always so tense, almost as if they were about to snap.

“The RDA has taken a huge blow on their equipment. They won’t be willing to sacrifice more. I presume they’ll bring reinforcement, Sir.”

“That’s for sure, the question is from where they will hit us.” Toruk Makto’s hand went to trace over the previously drawn lines of the movement they were planning. Ink smudged beneath his fingertips slightly staining them with black. Everyone had left the gathering hours ago, pleased with their work. But to Jake it felt like nothing was finished, nothing felt right.

“It could be from anywhere, Sir. We should be prepared for the worse. Gathering a larger group of warriors on the ground would be our best option.” Neteyam felt confident in his answer, or rather tried to.

“Why so?”

“It would be easier for us to not be seen. Sky people have a pattern to their attacks. They have no ground force, only air force, so-” His fingers traced next to the lining of the tracks on the map. “-if we move here where the trees keep us cover. We would have a greater plane to move across, they wouldn’t know where to hit.” Neteyam’s eyes glanced up to his father’s, searching for validation. But Jake Sully’s face remained stoic thinking over what his son stated.

“Spotters will still be vital for us but only a few are necessary. The less we are seen in the sky the better.” He continued. His father hadn’t uttered a word. The tent's walls painfully closed around, making it hard to inhale. The confidence he once felt had drained from him. An apology for his futile comment was about to slip off his tongue as he took his last sharp breath.

“Come on, we’ll need to get a good night’s sleep.” He patted his son’s shoulder and walked out of the tent. Yes, sir, it was a whisper, almost like he had said it to himself. He leaned against the table folding the scruffy piece of paper, placing it where all the other maps and plans were situated. They smelled like poison. Once you touch them you would be marked with the blood of the ones that died during the raids. You would be part of the reason for their death.

The fifteen-year-old tried to wholly blame their invaders, the men who shot their bullets at them. But after the names of the warriors who laid deceased on the battlefield were announced, guilt consumed his mind. The blood on his hands couldn’t be washed.

Morning had come. Everyone rushed from place to place picking up weapons. Their faces were painted in different colours, masking their fear. No one was sure whether they would live throughout the day. It was a gamble, each of their raids was a gamble with death. All members of the gatherings knew of this - an unspoken truth. A truth that was too hard to swallow. Felt taboo to even think about it, so it was never spoken of aloud.

The young boy’s footsteps matched the ones of all the skilled warriors, the sense of confidence radiating off of them - they were fast and controlled, each step very well calculated. He was marching off to the tent that had been occupied by him and his father many hours ago, knowing that Jake Sully would be there. He needed to apologize for his previous outburst. He felt compunction clawing at him, he needed to learn to be silent - to keep all fruitless comments to himself. Neteyam was consumed by his own thoughts, each yell or noise was blurred only making a slight vibration passing through his skin. Then he heard it. Her voice.

“Neteyam, yawne!” The voice of his soon-to-be mate. She jogged through the crowd, a smile on her plump lips. Her face was decorated with warrior's paint complimenting her seraphic features. Her eyes were big, having so much life in them.

“Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be with Kiri and Mo’at helping them?” His eyes narrowed.

“I won’t be needed there.” She took his larger hands into her own, squeezing them lightly. The smile on her face remained. ”I’ll be joining you, fighting with you.”

The scowl plastered across his face deepened. A sudden premonition came over him. He had been terrified of the thought of other na’vi, unknown to him putting their life on the line. But his future mate? He could not let such a thing happen. The mere idea of losing her left him petrified.

“No. You won’t be. You’ll be staying with Mo’at, where I know you’ll be safe.” The Olo'eyktan’s son tried to keep his voice soft.

“Your father told me I can come.” Her hands moved up to his shoulders then to his face, gently caressing his freckled skin. ”I am a warrior, Neteyam. I know how to keep myself safe and… I have you to protect me.” His gaze softened, grasping her hands in his rough ones. ‘How could my father permit such a delicate girl on the filthy field?’ He thought displeased.

Neteyam and Syay had met a year ago, not by fate but their parents. Her family being a respected household in the clan, it was no wonder they would soon cross paths. At first their interactions were forced, neither of them wanted to be betrothed to the other but they knew this was their duty. They had to get along for the clan, for the people. Months went by and the hours they spent together seemed less painful and felt less like a chore.

“Promise me you will stay by my side at all times.” It was a demand. Leaning forward Syay touched her forehead to his. She could sensor the cold sweat clinging to the boy’s skin, his muscles taut

“I will, yawne.”

The brown cloth that was used as an entry was moved to the side revealing several combatants gathered around his father. On the table beneath their palms was placed the worn out map. Their gazes shot like arrows in his way, ready to pierce through the thickest flesh. Agitation was written on their faces, mortality blooming under their skin. Toruk Makto had gathered them once again due to his own fear of failure. The Olo'eyktan was the last to pick up his head.

Neteyam’s posture was awkward, out of place, his fingers still gripping the cloth. Their predatorily stare made him feel weak as If he were to be hunted. Cautiously he took a step forward, the tent’s entrance sliding closed, then a few more steps until he was at the base of the table.

“Sir, may I speak with you?” The young boy spoke with pseudo confidence, all eyes on him but his own bore through his father’s.

“Go on.”

“Privately, if possible.”

Jake Sully dismissed his comrades with a hand gesture. They all exited the tent without questioning. Authority radiated off his father. A thing he admired about him. He often wished to be more like his father - a true leader with no fear.

“I-I want to apologize for yesterday. I was creating some stupid war plan in my head and I thought it sounded smart but after saying it out loud, it lost all sense. I should have-” He was quickly cut off by his father.

“No, you are too quick to blame yourself. You are still learning Neteyam, yes but what you stated previously was quite an idea.” He licked his chapped lips, pausing for a moment “I talked with the other warriors about it. Perhaps you were right about their lack of ground force. What I am saying is that we’ll try out your plan. With that you need to know that you and some of my men will be the only spotters.”

The boy’s yellow eyes widened at the thought. Recognised by Jake, validated. He was proud of himself. The embarrassment he had felt was draining from him but then he remembered. ‘What about Syay?’ His mind raced.

“Father, Syay told me she will be coming with us. She will be with me, a spotter, right?” He leaned over the table with his hands on the edge. The size of the wooden surface seemed to shorten as his father remained silent.

“Look, Syay’s father will be on the ground and she will be with him. We both know he is capable of keeping his own daughter safe so you shouldn’t worry.” Neteyam did the opposite. He began to worry. Even if the best known soldier to Pandora was with his beloved, he would still fear for her wellbeing. He needed her to be next to him, eyes to be locked on her. The boy was painfully aware that on the ground death was promised and mercy was granted to the strongest.

“I want her with me. Switch her with one of your men, the sky is safer and you can easily dodge bullets. I can’t allow her to get hurt. Please understand me, Sir.”

Jake Sully shook his head. Contemplating whether his decision will be fatal later on. He knew his son was responsible but still a child.

“It will be for the best this way. It’s too late to change plans.” Jake spoke and hoped his boy would accept this and move on.

“Sir, I can protect her, she'll be better off with me.”

“No.”

“I won’t let her out of my sight!” The young na’vi was beginning to bargain. Desperate to be with his Syay.

“Neteyam.”

“Father, please…” There was a pregnant pause.

“A-a-a-h, you must take full responsibility. No playing around, understand me?”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir!” Neteyam let out a small sigh of relief, a breath that was caught up in him from the first steps he took into the tent.

“Now get outta my face.” With that the child warrior left the tent almost too quickly and eagerly.

Ikrans soar through the sky as their riders inspect the air nervously. Before take off all na’vi gathered listening to the words spoken from their mighty Olo’eyktan. His words were like a soothing song to the mothers, wives and children. The ones afraid their family would not return this moon. Neytiri, Jake’s mate and Neteyam’s mother was there, standing close, cradling her youngest in her arms. Prior to going on raids she felt the need to ease her children, hold them close to herself as if they were to perish. She was never too scared of a war, she knew the necessity of it and the sacrifices to be made but as her children grew they joined the war. Their safety was at risk and that is when the fear blossomed within her.

Neytiri’s gaze fell on Neteyam. Many said he inherited the strong features of his mother. The eyes, the nose, the lips all resembled her’s, but she could only see Jake in her son. He had a face stoic but gentle and pure as Jake’s. Her eyes quickly moved to the ikran’s rider gliding next to the young boy. Syay, a girl tough for her age. She was a talented warrior, her bow like an extension of her arm. She never was the type to mess around the other young na’vi girls, to weave baskets with them, to make bracelets together, to even gossip. But this was not looked down upon as her hunting skills out maneuvered the need of acquiring other expertises. Once, Neytiri tried to teach the child how to thread a piece of clothing but soon she understood it was impossible. The child couldn’t even slide a bead on the thread without it disappearing in the ground. Too sloppy with her hands to make a simple cloth but skilled enough with the knife to kill in seconds. ‘Such a strange thing.’ Neytiri would often think.

Before her thoughts could wander any further Jake’s voice boomed through her ear piece. The noise piercing her ear drums.

“We are approaching the target. Be ready.”

Bullets hit their target, fire spread on the ground, na’vi screamed and cheered. If a painter had the chance to portray the scene that absorbed the battle ground, it would have been a grotesque depiction of the colour red, splashed all over the canvas. Another shipment vehicle had been taken down. Quickly, the soldiers started searching through the containers with the intention of finding valuable weapons. In spite of that, a thud of empty boxes could be heard. It didn’t even take long for Jake Sully to realize that he had been tricked. He took the bait. Shock was what he felt, which was swiftly outlived as many dark and gruesome thoughts absorbed his consciousness. Depictions of everything in their plan going wrong.

“Sawtute!” Humans.

Jake cursed under his breath. He looked around and saw all the combatants looking in his direction, ready to take action, to listen to his command. At once it went silent. A painful silence. And so he began to scream and yell. But he couldn’t hear his own voice. Deafening ring went all around the plaine. The humans have begun their maschere. Their firearms pierced the air and then the flesh of the na’vi.

“Fall back!” The Olo’eyktan yelled. Some soldiers ran, others shot at the helicopters soaring in the wind. Several fell and the other remained. He, himself, fought however he could, but their opponents were too strong. The fight wasn’t fair and they were greatly outnumbered. An ignoble fight, a bloody and messy war.

“Dad!” Neteyam called though the throat mic distressed.

“Are you okay, son?” A premonition came over Jake.

“Dad, I don’t know w-what happened. I-I was on the ground with Syay, she-“ Neteyam’s voice broke and a pained cry erupted from his throat. “She wanted to help her dad with the cargo and-“ Jake’s patience was thin.

“What happened?!” The Oly’ektan screamed.

“Syay is dead, dad!”

The silence. Present again. A helicopter crashed 10 metres away from Jake Sully. But the silence continued. Neteyam shook with every breath he took. Stream of tears and snot went down his chin onto the burning ground, as he held his soon-to-be mate. He held her tightly, close to his chest. The hot blood that stained his skin and clothes didn’t bother him. He thought that if he held her for long enough she would come back to life, and her chest would start to rise and fall. But she was still, awfully still. The young boy wailed, unable to accept the inevitable. ‘At least her father was next to her. At least in her final moments she was next to the people she loves.’ He thought. Lucky.

With eyes red and hands trembling, Neteyam was found embracing Syay by his father. The battle was ongoing around them, but it didn’t seem as if the boy cared.

“Let me see you.” His father ordered him. The boy-soldier looked at his father with desperation. Jake brought his hands to touch his son’s scraped face and then observed his body for any fatal injuries. Relieved, the man then turned his attention towards Syay who laid next to his son. A sense of bitterness went through him as many memories of the sweet girl were brought back into his mind.

“Your mother will be here soon, she’ll take you home.”

“But-“ Neteyam didn’t want to leave his precious girl, however war comes with its many sacrifices and heartbreaks.

“Learn to be silent.” His voice was sharp. Neytiri soon landed with her ikran.

The following hours after the battle ended, the usually turquoise sky was gray. The na’vi mourned and grieved their losses. After Neteyam’s family understood of the death of his ‘soon-to-be’ mate and her father, they were all devastated. Misery loomed over them because of the major loss. However they couldn’t sulk for days to no end, because they had duties - the people were waiting for them.

Months went by, the funerals passed. Neteyam still blamed himself for everything that went on during the infamous battle. He continued to think that if he were more assertive and stern, he and Syay wouldn’t have gone to the ground where all hell broke loose. He thought that maybe… he should have been the one shot. Neteyam couldn’t sleep for days without having nightmares. Food for him seemed almost unpleasant. He was carrying the burden of death with himself. …But as many say, time heals. The said words would often cross his mind, a simple reminder that life continues. Thus, he devoted himself to work. Every chance he received, he would occupy his time with chores and training, no time for rest as it brough unwanted thoughts. The Omatikaya clan was looking up to him as the next Olo’eyktan in line and the expectations were high.

Five years later…

The Sullys had to take a leave. They had to depart from their people, their clan. The RDA hadn’t backed down and only grew stronger with time. Recently, Colonel Quarich came back from the dead in search of his target - Jake Sully. Not long ago, Neteyam’s siblings were under grave danger when they were captured by the dream walkers. In result, Jake took the hard decision of leaving their home for the good of the people and themselves. He was soon stripped of his title of Olo’eyktan and there was no turning back. The younger Sullys were distraught by the unexpected news, but it wasn't up to them to decide, so their pleas and bargains didn’t affect anything. Neteyam, already an adult, 20 years of age, was rather objective about the choice as he understood the vital nature of the resolution and he didn’t say a word.

#avatar the way of water #avatar #neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam fanfiction #jake sully #neytiri #neteyam angst #angst #multi chapter #avatar series #avatar way of water #fanfic

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channiesbedroom · 1 year

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Pancakes for Breakfast | bc

I spend my entire life thinking about what Chan would be like as a Dad so have this little oneshot of cuddly appa Chan !!

- Dad!Bangchan x Reader - No warnings, just pure sweet fluff

“Appa! Appa! Appa! Appa!” Chan turned to face you, half of his head hidden under the duvet. You snort, unable to contain your laughter as he gives you his best impression of puppy-dog eyes. Your daughter continues to shout from her bedroom – “Appa! Come here!”.

“Darling, you’re not Seungmin. The puppy eyes don’t work on me. Go and get your child.” With a huff, he throws the duvet off, sliding out of bed and slowly tucking his feet into his slippers.

“Our child.” He mumbles as he stumbles out of the room, still half asleep. You let yourself lie back on the plush pillows, easily dropping back off to sleep as the shouting stops, and your 2-year-olds voice becomes softer, clearly happy that her Appa has come to get her out of her crib. It feels like you’ve barely gone back to sleep before a weight appears on your stomach.

“Mama, mama, mama.” A tiny voice whispers directly into your ear. “Mama needs to wake up for breaky.” You open your eyes tentatively, finding yourself face to face with Sarang, your daughter. She’s lying on top of you, with her face mere inches from yours.

“Good morning my baby.” Her face scrunches and she huffs. “What’s that face for?” You giggle.

“I’m not a baby, Mama. I’m a big girl.” You wrap your arms around her tiny body and squeeze her, struggling to lift yourself up with her weight still lying on you.

“The biggest girl. Shall we go and see Appa?” She nods frantically, wriggling until she’s out of your arms, sprinting down to the kitchen. Chan is standing at the kitchen counter, a stack of pancakes and a punnet of strawberries in the middle of the table.

“Ta-da! Mama, Appa made us pamcakes!”

“Pancakes, sweetheart. Not pamcakes.” Chan laughs. She clings to his leg, nuzzling her head against his flannel pyjama bottoms. You try to slyly take your phone out of your pocket, hoping to capture a picture of the sweet moment, but Sarang notices immediately, letting go of Chan and pulling her face into a huge smile, tiny hands trying their best to form a peace sign.

“Bang Sarang, you are such a poser.” Chan lifts her up under the armpits and sits her on his hip, pulling the same face, and holding the peace sign slightly more effectively.

“Just like Appa, hey?” He’s grinning from ear to ear. You love seeing Chan like this. You were young when you unexpectedly got pregnant with Sarang, and you never expected anything from him, but he was the perfect father to your little girl. He had to spend so much time working and travelling, but he always made an incredible effort to spend time with her, facetiming her every single day that he was away. He was the perfect boyfriend too, despite the crazy late nights, after which he’d creep into bed, trying not to wake you. Being in a relationship with an idol was hard – despite you having been in a relationship since you were teenagers, you’ve had to keep it secret from nearly everyone. Only your direct family – your parents and siblings, and of course his family, know all the details. You’ll never forget the emergency meeting you had to attend with JYP only a few days after you saw those 2 lines, where you had to sign a special contract about keeping your secret.

You look back to your 2 favourite people, who by now are sitting at the table, scoffing pancakes faster than you could imagine. You are constantly impressed by Sarang’s ability to eat just as fast as her father.

“Mama! Eat your pamcakes, they’ll get cold!” Her bossiness, however, she definitely got from you. She looks at Chan, tiny arms crossed, and her brow curved into a frown. She slips into Korean easily, telling him that he needs to scold you so that you’ll eat faster. Chan laughs.

“Sarang, you can tell your mama that yourself!” You’re laughing with him. Your Korean still isn’t perfect, despite years of practice, so Chan is the parent who speaks Korean with Sarang, whilst you always speak to her in English. She hasn’t yet realised that you can still understand almost everything she says, despite struggling to reply in the same language.

“I’m eating them! I promise!” Her furrowed brow relaxes a bit as she climbs up the side of Chan’s chair and perches herself in his lap, leaning against his chest and trying her best to wrap her arms around him.

“What do you want to do today baby?” You turn to look at Chan, trying to work out whether he’s speaking to you or your daughter, as he has the unfortunate habit of using the same pet names for both of you. His eyes are firmly fixed on Sarang’s face, his hands looking huge as he holds her steady. “Aquarium?” She jumps up immediately. Sarang loves aquariums and has done since she was a baby. You scoff slightly.

“Babe, I can’t really take her there today.” You don’t want to let her down, but no-one knows that Chan has a child, so he’s never been able to take her out unless you’ve privately booked. You know for sure that you haven’t booked to visit her favourite aquarium.

“About that.” He looks up at you, your heart immediately melting at his soft smile. “I spoke to JYP yesterday. And it’s ok.” You’re confused. What’s ok? You reply with a questioning hum and a tilt of your head.

“The big reveal. Your choice how we do it, we can announce something on social media, or we can just start subtly being seen together, y’know.” You can tell he’s nervous as he talks, but he has no reason to be. You jump out of your seat and almost run to be next to him.

“Are you serious? We’re actually allowed to leave the house together?” You have tears in your eyes, and you can see that tears are starting to form in Chan’s eyes too. Sarang, in contrast, doesn’t seem to have any idea what a big deal this is.

“Yes, my love. We can basically do whatever we want. They recommend that I call one of the managers to come with us if we’re going out in public, but officially, we’re fine.” He stands, Sarang settled on his hip, and uses his spare arm to wrap around your shoulders, squeezing you tight.

“Well, baby.” You wipe your tears and stroke Sarang’s hair, unable to hold back your grin. “Let’s go to the aquarium.”

“I’m not a baby!” She screeches. You and Chan reply in unison. “You’re a big girl!”

#bangchan x reader #bang chan fluff #skz fanfiction #skz imagines #skz fanfic #skz fluff #chan x reader #chan fluff #skz oneshots #skz oneshot #bang chan one shot

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tavyliasin · 3 months

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BG3 FicFeb NSFW - Day 4

Just a shorter one today as I've been a smudge busy, but here's day 4! Shortfic below the cut~ ----- -----

Day 4 - The rest of the companions heard Tav/Durge going at it

“Tchk, do they not know the whole woods can hear them?” Lae’zel winced at the latest echo of a moan from the trees, trying to focus on sharpening her blade without slicing through her own finger in the process.

Gale tried in vain to stare harder at his book, as if reading the words loud enough in his head might drown them out. “Don’t look at me, I’m all out of paper to scribe out Zone of Silence for them. You’d think they might make the effort to learn one bloody spell so we can get a night’s sleep-”

“Was that a tree breaking? Gods I hope they’re not bringing the place down around them.” Wyll looked as concerned as he was flustered, sorting through the supplies in his pack like it was the most interesting task in the world. “What I’d do for a house with some thick walls right now.”

“I think it’s cute.” Karlach grinned, her heart glowing slightly. “At least someone is getting some action around here.”

“If they don’t stop getting action I shall be asking Lady Shar to wipe these memories from my head too.” Shadowheart groaned, standing to walk back to her tent. “I’m going to at least try to get some sleep, I suggest you all do the same. You know they’re all elves, right?”

“Ah of course, Halsin, Astarion, our fearless leader,” Gale’s words were punctuated by a distinctly loud cry from the aforementioned leader that anyone else might’ve mistaken for distress. “They’ll get just as much rest from their trance as we could be getting if it wasn’t too loud to sleep.” He directed his grumble to the treeline, as if the foliage might pass on his displeasure at the disturbance.

“Do you think they’d notice if I-”

“Karlach, sit back down, you are not going out there to spy on them.” Wyll put a hand on her elbow, pulling her back down to sit beside him.

“I wasn’t going to ask if I could join in or anything.” She complained. “You never let me have any fun.”

“I would hardly describe being an unwelcome pair of eyes to the affairs of those three as fun, istik.” Lae’zel put her sword aside, satisfied it would be sharp enough to deal with any enemies in the morning. “You should follow the secretive one’s lead and get some sleep, our foes will not hesitate to slice open your gut should you pause to yawn.”

“That…does not paint a particularly pleasant picture.” Gale closed his book, standing to return to his tent, resolving himself to cast silence on himself once he got there. “Remind me not to ask for any Githyanki bedtime stories next time we’re around the fire this late.”

“I don’t think the Gith even do bedtime stories.” Wyll shrugged, looking towards Lae’zel’s tent.

“We do, actually, and a simple gut-stabbing would be considered too weak even for a helpless babe.” Her voice hissed from behind the canvas. With everyone else gone, Wyll and Karlach lingered a little longer by the fire, sharing a quiet laugh at the idea of Lae’zel as a toddler with an oversized sword complaining that her bedtime stories weren’t gory enough.

“What about you, Karlach? Any fairytales, or at least good stories until we get peace enough to rest?” The warlock’s smile was disarming as usual. “I’m afraid all I can offer are the worn out classics, and they don’t seem to hold the same charm as they used to. Hard to imagine a dashing prince running off to play the hero and sweep a fair maiden off her feet when I look like this.”

“I don’t know, you look princely enough to me. And I’m not just saying that because I’ve spent years in Avernus surrounded by actual bloody demons, either.” She shuffled a little, her restless tail and glowing chest betraying her thoughts as usual. “The stories I have in my head now aren’t really suitable for children at bedtime.”

“Lucky for us, we aren’t children.” Wyll sidled just a little closer, looking up at bright eyes that widened as his voice dropped to a whisper. “I might not have a coin to hand to give you, but I would love to hear your thoughts.”

#bg3ficfeb #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #fanfic #wyll ravengard #karlach #bg3 tav #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #lae'zel #shadowheart #Halsin #Astarion #bg3 companions #shortfic

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ghcstao3 · 1 year

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part 1

Things get worse before they get better.

Soap’s nightmares get worse. More violent. By the time they’re at their peak of his torture, he doesn’t think he’s managed to sleep a proper wink of sleep in well over a week.

His bullet wound ends up mildly infected, which isn’t much of a surprise. It still sucks, though, and when he lets slip mention of his injury to his mother over the phone, he ends up hanging up on her mid-tangent because he already feels bad enough as is.

There’s no missions. Nothing significant to do. Soap feels purposeless for a while, and the shrink he’s forced to visit hardly does anything—he’s reduced to something of a tired, vacant shell, trying to work past that mission but he just can’t. He’s exhausted.

Soap stops calling his family some time during that period. Gaz does his best to support him, lift his spirits. Price offers the help he can between his own work.

And Ghost… is Ghost. At first, that’s all he is. He keeps to pleasantries as if he and Soap hadn’t shared some moment out in Las Almas. As if he hadn’t saved Soap’s life in Chicago, and plenty other occasions.

As if he hadn’t stuck beside the sergeant as soon as they’d been reunited after that one last job, almost like he was afraid if he left Soap out of his sights, something bad might happen.

Which it does. Because back on base Ghost disappears, and Soap is left alone, hollowed out and changed.

But when Ghost notices that Soap is different, isn’t Johnny, he returns. And something shifts.

They work into a proper friendship. Soap regains a sense of purpose if only to spend more time with Ghost, like he could never get enough. Smaller missions are assigned again, and that bond grows stronger. Grows into something more.

They work into something of a tentative relationship. Soap’s nightmares lessen, the comfort of a solid presence pressed against him in bed more grounding than thought possible. Soap starts calling his family again, talks to them about finding his person. For once, their disliking of the military serves him well—if only for them to not question the rules about fraternization that Soap has definitely, definitely broken.

His family doesn’t approve of Ghost, for a while, but not because he’s a man—rather, because he’s military. They don’t like that he’s given another reason for Soap to remain in the line of fire. They don’t like that he encourages Soap to reach his potential in the career they all loathe. The first time they meet Ghost they try to be friendly, but everyone is prickly at best. It takes time for them to warm up to the lieutenant, which isn’t made any easier by Ghost’s own demeanour.

It’s fine, though. Ghost understands. And Soap’s family, in the end, can’t help but be thankful for him—because Ghost is the reason Soap is able to piece together any parts of his former self that had chipped away. Ghost is the reason Soap is whole again.

They’ll never be happy with his decision to join the military, it’s just a fact of Soap’s life. But he’s done more than enough good to accept it.

And Ghost makes sure to tell him just as much.

#no one asked but here’s the extension w ghoap #couldn’t help myself #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #soap mw2 #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #ghoap #writing #drabble #modern warfare #call of duty

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devils-little-sista · 1 month

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Nico and Michael highlights from Blood of Olympus reading into the subtext

1. Nico was prepared to kill this motherfuckernif he had to. Nico had just been hired as Reyna’s attack dog and he is dedicated to that job 110%. Michael is taking none of his shit. Michael is wondering who this hades kid thinks he is. Both of them are not ones to start a fight but they’ll sure as hell finish one. It’s a Cold War. It’s extreme sexual tension 101.

2. Nico thinks Michael’s sleep talking is adorable and hilarious. Nico could listen to him sleep talk all day. He wondered what it be like to lay in bed next to Michael and listen to him giggle manically and sleep talk nonsense. So adorable. Not that Nico would ever admit that. Not even in the subtext.

3. (Now this line is about Dakota and Leila but I’m going to assume that if Michael had spent any amount of time with Nico then he would act about the same way. Nico finds this equally amusing and empowering as he is half Michael’s size.

4. Nico and Michael eye fucking once again. Octavian and Will cockblocking them. Will trying to argue with Nico. Nico and Michael totally down for murder (especially with someone like Octavian) and Will being his usual goody two shoes self and trying to insert himself into a situation he has nothing to do with and doesn’t know anything about.

5. Michael obliges to play the loyal guard dog act one last time. He stands directly in front of Nico (and Will. Let’s pretend like he’s not here). Michael and Nico starring each other down. Probably more eye fucking and silent flirting. Extreme tension. Will watches on in absolute horror as these two psychopaths flirt all they have over the guy they’re about to murder.

6. Oh no Michael only glared at Will because he was being annoying and interfering with business that had nothing to do with him. Michael looked at Nico and tried to convey the thoughts “hey I see we’re the same type of crazy and think alike. Follow me into the tent and we’ll make a stronger bond than just silent flirting” but Nico is so dense and sees himself in a totally undesirable light and he doesn’t understand Michael is asking him to follow him so Nico is just thinking “welp good riddance Octavian. Great now I can flirt with Michael more—wait no Michael don’t go please don’t leave me here with the like of Will Solace I can’t take him he’s so annoying please stay with me Michael”

And then Nico and Michael never interact again and I think that is a crime. Rick forced Solangelo together when in reality Nico thought Will was the most annoying personality he’d ever met aside from Octavian and Bryce and Nico and Michael were checking each other out and eye fucking and silent flirting every single time the looked at each other. Michael and Nico should have been endgame. (Also what is Nico and Michael’s ship name? Does anybody know? Do they even have a ship name?).

#Blood of Olympus #anti Solangelo #Nico di Angelo #Michael Kahale #Will Solace #Octavian #Reyna Avila Ramirez-Arellano #Reyna Ramirez-Arellano #Heroes of Olympus #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #PJO #HoO #Mico #Micho

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footprintsinthesxnd · 7 months

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The Good Die Young

Masterlist

Warnings: mentions of graphic themes, war, injury, weapons, sexual images, language, 18+, swearing, major character death. Pairings: Jake Seresin × f!reader. Disclaimer: This is a series reflecting on the true events of the US Marines in WW2. All of the characters are fictional and not based off are original characters (except for Jake Seresin) and they are not representations of the real, brave men who fought in WW2. I have tried to make all the events in this series as accurate as possible but please bare in mind this is fanfiction and i have added/ changed certain things to fit with this.

Pavuvu May 1944

“You’re okay George. You’re gonna be just fine,” Jake promised, pulling the blanket over George’s shivering body. Sweat trickled down his forehead, his teeth chattering like a train on its tracks.

“You okay, Georgie?” Edward asked as he lay across his cot, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth as the medic cleaned another sore on his back.

“Never better,” George whispered hoarsely, staring out from beneath the mountain of blankets, that despite the humid weather we’re doing nothing to bring him any warmth.

“You boys really need to go to the hospital. I’m going to try and pull a few strings, and get you to the hospital at Banika. I’m going to pull some paper and get you boys of this godforsaken place. You game?” The medic asked, looking at the two men in question.

“Hell yeah,” George and Edward replied and Jake smiled at the thought, at least two of his three remaining friends would be safe away from this hell hole.

“Sounds like a great plan. Thanks, Doc.” Jake followed the medic out of the tent. “How long do you think they’ll be gone for?”

“As long as they need to be. They need to rest, as do we all.”

“Well, there’s not a lot of chance of that around here, hey Doc?” Jake laughed and the medic nodded. After all, a good, deep sleep is a valuable commodity that was hard to come by in this place; both of them were well aware that the next battle wouldn’t be far off.

“What are you going to do without us around?” George chuckled, giving Jake his hand to shake. Jake took it instantly, shaking it as if it might be the last time he would see him. He hoped it wouldn’t be, he desperately wanted his friends to return but he also wanted them as far away from the war as possible, where they would be safe.

“Well, I’ll have Frank to keep me out of trouble. Don’t worry about me, okay? You just concentrate on getting better.” Jake felt a pang of sadness as he watched his two friends leave, with Edward pushing George in his wheelchair up the ramp of the troop ship. Jake never really felt alone, even when he was home sick and now he felt as though he was losing his family all over again.

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

Pavuvu June 1944

Dear Jake,

I’m not sure when this letter will reach you but your son was born 18th May at quarter to midnight. He is a little bundle of joy and he has your eyes. I can’t wait for you to meet him, Jake. I’ve enclosed a picture so you can keep him close to your heart. I have called him Jacob. It is only fitting that he has his fathers name.

News of the war is worse than ever. There was a large attack on Europe named D-Day on 6th June. I fear the war is far from won and fighting in North Africa continues still too. I am pleased to be away from work for a while. The never ending stream of bad news is almost too much to bear. At least for now I can pretend everything is okay, that everyone is safe. I wish you were here to enjoy this peace with me.

Thinking of you always

Your Y/n

Jake smiled fondly, running his dirt-engrained fingers over the picture of his son. His son. He couldn’t quite believe that he was a father, that someone like him could make something so perfect and untainted by the world. How could something do pure come from this horrendous year? Jake knew he had to keep fighting not only for Y/n now but for little Jacob too.

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

“Well look at this. Fresh meat.” Frank pointed towards the group of fresh, baby-faced Marines as they walked up the beach in full pack.

“Jesus, are they ever old enough to drink? They’re just kids for Christ's Sake,” Jake groaned, throwing his book onto his cot. Each time recruits were sent to the front they seemed to get younger, just boys who within a few days would be homesick and crying out for their mothers as they bled out on some battlefield no one had ever heard of, in a place no one had ever visited.

“Is this How Company?” One of the baby Marines asked. He looked petrified and as Jake studied his face he noticed that the boy had probably never shaved.

“Who wants to know?” Frank asked, leaning against the supporting pole of the hut , puffing smoke from his cigarette over the recruit.

“I’m Private Daniel Chase. I’m joining How Company as a Machine Gunner. I meant to be with Sergeant Seresin.”

Jake looked at him dead in the eye. He’d never once considered that he would be sent a replacement for George. He knew that George was still pretty rough in the hospital in Banika but he didn’t think it was enough for them to send a replacement.

“I’m Sergeant Seresin. Put your kit down on that bunk there and then I’ll give you the tour.”

The young Marine did as he was told, clumsily knocking Jake’s belongings off the table, cursing, apologising and then nearly taking Jake out with his Garand.

“Okay kid, put all that shit down. Let’s go.” Frank watched in amusement as the young Marine stumbled after Jake, trying to keep up with his long strides.

Daniel Chase wasn’t a bad kid. He grew up in Louisiana with his parents and two sisters. He was funny and likeable, and Jake quickly warmed to him, taking him under his wing like a younger brother.

That evening the COs had set up a theatre and played ‘For Whom the Bell Tolls’ which mildly settled the normally rowdy Marines, except for the odd passing comment about the actress.

“Is it like this here most nights?” Chase asked, looking up at Jake inquisitively. The poor kid knew nothing of the world, Jake had realised as he gave him a tour of the camp. He didn’t smoke, didn’t drink, always said his prayers before bed and until joining the Marines had never done his own washing before.

“Sometimes. This is just to welcome the new guys, make you think that it’s all sunshine and rainbows until shit really hits the fan.” Jake knew he was only speaking the truth but regretted it as soon as the words left his mouth, the fear on the young boy's face reminded him too much of George when they had first seen battle.

“It’ll be alright, kid. There ain’t nothing to worry about, just stick with me and you’ll be fine.”

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

Peleliu September 1944

The doors for the landing craft to exit the troop ship falling open was the beginning of it all. The bright light poured through the ship's hull as each craft flew out the doors and into the open water.

“HERE WE GO!” Jake shouted to Chase who nodded at him nervously. The poor boy had already been sick twice on Jake’s boots while they were waiting.

Aircraft flew overhead, sending bombs down onto the beach that sounded like freight trains whistling above Jake’s head. A few stray bullets hit the edge of the landing craft causing all the men to duck down. No one wanted to get hit before even reaching the beach. The large 50-caliber guns on the landcraft opened fire, trying to clear a path for the Marines to land.

The noise was deafening and between the gunfire and explosions Jake could hear Daniel let out a small whimper. “I'm scared, Jake,” Chase cried and Jake just looked at him, giving him a small reassuring smile. Well what else was he supposed to do? It wasn’t a good idea to lie to the kid but at the same time telling someone they’re probably going to die wasn’t on the cards either.

“You’re gonna be just fine, Kid. Just stay with me and keep moving.” That was the last time Jake spoke to Chase, but neither of them knew that.

As the landing craft hit the beach the smell of smoke was thick in the air, the doors swung down and groups of Marines began charging up the beach. Sand, tree bark, and bullets flew through the air. The ground was littered with bodies as Jake stumbled forward, cursing and falling into a nearby crater, taking cover from the firing above his head. He’d lost sight of Chase and Frank soon after leaving the landing craft. The scent of engine oil was thick in the air as Jake’s chest heaved from the effort. He turned to see a young Marine fall into the crater beside him, blood trickling down his face, eyes wide and frozen. Jake thought he saw the life leaving the poor boy's eyes, all the memories, the love, and future plans all gone in the blink of an eye and all that was left was a shell of who he had been.

Jake bit back a strangled scream as he pushed himself from the hole, crawling along to the next one and into the tree line where he got to his feet. Raising his Garand, he crouched low, hurrying through the trees. Earth flew up around him, the explosions ringing in his ears as he desperately tried to get his bearings, the high-pitch whistling doing nothing for his sense of direction. The last thing he needed was to be running back towards the beach. The smoke created a thick fog through the air, making it difficult to breathe and causing Jake to splutter, coughing loudly. Through all the shrapnel and gunfire flying around Jake didn’t hear the whistling above his head, the sound of the aircraft flying over, not until the explosion went off right beside him. The blast sent him through the air, his body falling helplessly to the ground.

The ringing noise in his mind was the only thing he recognised as his eyes cracked open, looking upon the grey clouds above him. They seemed to dance across the sky, the smokey smudges against the clear blue were a stark contrast but seemed to bring comfort to him. Jake realised that he rarely saw the sky without clouds of smoke anymore. It was sad really, he had always enjoyed the sunsets in Texas, and he’d often watched them with his mother as a young boy.

“JAKE! JAKE! OH FUCK! Hang on buddy. Just hang on for me.”

“Frank…” Jake whispered, reaching a bloody hand out to his friend who took it immediately.

“It’s okay Jake, I’m here. You’re gonna be alright.”

“Frank…w-where’s Y/n?” Jake asked, trying to sit up but Frank pushed him back down immediately.

“She’s not here right now but I promise as soon as we get you fixed up I'll find her okay? I'll find her you just have to hang on.” Frank’s voice was desperate as he applied pressure to Jake’s wounds.

“I NEED A MEDIC GOD DAMMIT!” Frank screamed but Jake just smiled up at him, shuffling to sit up slightly. Confusion crossed Jake’s face as he tried to move his legs again.

“Frank, I-I…can't f-feel my legs?” Jake looked up at him worried, trying again and again to move his legs but nothing happened. Nothing moved. Frank looked down at him sadly, tears glistening in the edges of his eyes.

“You're gonna be just fine, Jake. We’re gonna get your legs all sorted,” he promised, resisting the urge to look over at Jake’s bloodied legs that lay a few feet from them. “I promise, Jake.”

“Okay, Frank. I…trust y-you.”

Jake didn’t notice the way Frank's chest heaved as he screamed for a medic, he didn’t notice the desperate look on his friend's face and he didn’t notice the large pool of blood that trickled out onto the ground around him. Jake just smiled, his blue eyes looking back up at the sky as more aircraft flew over them. He could see Y/n face now, smiling down at him as she cradled little Jacob close. He reached his right hand out towards her, trying to grip hold of hers.

“Come to me, Jake,” she whispered to him. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Jake? No, no Buddy. You’ve got to stay with me, Jake. Stay with me.” Frank watched in horror as Jake’s eyes slid shut. The blood pumping through his fingers mercilessly as he tried his best to keep pressure on the wounds. A medic rushed in beside Frank, applying bandages to both of Jake’s legs. Frank continued to shout at the medic as he sat back, shaking his head defeatedly at Frank. He didn’t believe him. The medic continued to talk but Frank didn’t hear a word. He couldn’t be the only one left. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Frank felt two strong arms pulling him to stand. The Lieutenants fought him, shouting harshly in his ears to keep moving and shoving a Garand into his bloody hands. The blood congealed around the gun, sticking it to Frank as if Jake himself was urging him to use it. His hands shook violently and despite the Lieutenant's protest he couldn’t help but spare a glance over his shoulder to his friend.

“Goodbye Jake.”

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#jake hangman seresin #the good die young #jake seresin au #ww2 jake seresin #ww2 au #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #ww2 marines #the pacific theatre

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