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neteyamsilly · 1 year

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i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 1

summary ;; As Jake Sully's oldest daughter, you never see eye to eye with him, always challenging him and pushing his buttons to the limit. What happens when things go too far one day? [PART 2] pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader genre ;; pure angst and family feels notes / explanations ;; welcome to the labor of my daddy issues and my very own therapy. this fic is inspired by this one by @layonatanvi and I only wanted to borrow the running away from home to get an ikran idea/prompt! Please excuse my mistakes if you see any.

There’s a widespread belief among sky people that every first-born daughter is a direct copy of her father.

You listened in on your own father complaining to your mother about this privately one time; according to him, this was why you guys kept banging hammerheads like 'angtsìks.

Lo’ak was his troublemaker, yes, but you were the rebel pain in his ass, wouldn’t stop questioning one tiny simple step he made, never took anything seriously when he needed you to be on top of things hundred percent of the time... Even your younger brother knew boundaries after he was given the stink eye, but you hadn’t stopped testing him every single goddamn day after the sky people had come back.

His youngest son and oldest daughter were nearly identical in the speed they got him seeing red, but the similarities ended there. Lo’ak would go behind him to cause trouble, and you would do it right to his face, that fearlessness and defiance made you more dangerous than your brother in your father’s opinion.

His blood pressure skyrocketing was reserved for Lo’ak and the shenanigans he knew right away the boy was getting into, and you got his explosive anger the moment you would open your mouth to defy him — he couldn’t talk to you, a normal conversation even about your mother’s cooking wasn’t possible without you being passive-aggressive and things snowballing from there.

(“This is delicious Neytiri, thank you for the food. Sturmbeest?”

“Sturmbeest meat ran out like two weeks ago, father. You ask this everyday and mom answers the same everyday.”

Cue him reprimanding you for talking to him like that, you saying maybe he should greenlight a hunt soon to calm his nerves and promptly being sent to your room. It was Neteyam who’d saved some food for you that night.)

If only you would stop talking back to him and listen for once, he’d said, pacing in the tent with hands on hips like an agitated viperwolf as mother watched on, most likely tired from going through this loop for yet another day. You are the older sister to Lo’ak, Kiri and Tuk, why can’t you be a role model for them like Neteyam is?

(Mom had given him the flattest, “She is at the age for such behavior, Ma’Jake, we’ve talked about this. Let her be.”)

In your defense, he didn’t make sense sometimes, what harm was there in wanting him to explain the thought process behind his decisions?

Apparently you simply were prohibited from doing that to the Olo’eyktan.

But he was father, he was your family. Why did that have to be disrespect?

He wasn’t like this before.

A small part of you was aware this was you lashing out because you missed your father — the lighthearted rock in your life, the big shadow protecting you from the heat of the world, who knew how to smile and show his love before all of this. Now he was just the leader of the clan, the weight of the revered Toruk Makto on his shoulders made him a total stranger you didn’t recognize.

He barely ever called you sweetheart anymore, punishing you for being a brat, most likely. You tried to act like it didn’t hurt.

But it did. You missed him dearly when he was right in front of you. The rest of the family did, too, they just didn’t say it out loud the way you expressed through what you called standing up to him — in reality, it was a statement about the man he had become, father couldn’t read between the lines to understand.

Mom did.

She would always explain he did it out of love and worry, and his every move had a reason behind it after the scoldings ended. It was as if she saw right through the prickly exterior of her eldest daughter.

Her love wasn’t held back like his was, not shared like military MREs at decided moments in a day in between attacks, raids, meetings and duties. Hers were long touches, hugs, kisses on your temple, shared time and hunts together, her letting you ride on her ikran with her, the warmth of a meal and soft smiles; whilst his was randomly asking how you were after training and where you’ve been if he caught onto your absence sometimes. He didn’t have time for you or your siblings except for Tuktuk these days. That’s why you were now a mama’s girl.

Sooner or later, the breaking point was finally bound to arrive.

Yours did after a particularly heated-up fight about your rite of passage. You had had enough of father postponing it when Lo’ak, younger than you, had already gained his own ikran and gone through uniltaron. He was present in the tent while you were fussing and debating with your immovable mountain of a father only answering with single syllable responses, and his light snickers made you all the more aggressive. He got a strong jab from Kiri after a loud snort.

Kiri, you could get. She was built different from the start — got her mount earlier than anybody else, just walked up to it and asked. Besides, the girl wasn’t a dick about it like Lo’ak was.

“You aren’t ready yet,” father answered the more you asked him. You thought he'd say a different thing the hundredth time, but he didn't. “Your brother was.”

Lo’ak puffed his chest at that, desperate for a drop of recognition as always, and you could only roll your eyes. “So you think I’m weak? I’m not strong enough?”

Father sighed at the provocation. “That’s not what I’m saying. This and being ready are two different things.”

“How are they different? If I’m on top of my training, that means I’m ready.”

“Physically ready, and mentally ready are not the same.”

“How can I not be mentally ready, I’ve already seen what happens—”

“Enough!” He stood up, towering above you and leaning in slightly. Your younger brother had stopped smiling so quickly you almost let a laugh escape you, and father got agitated when he saw that, thinking you were making fun of him. “Some don’t return from the dream hunt. Do you understand? The strongest sometimes don’t return from that. Your mind needs to be strong.”

“And mine isn’t?”

He gave a slow exhale through his nose, not actually wanting to say it for some reason. “No it isn’t.”

“Why?”

There it is. Your signature phrase. ‘Why?’

And it made your father look above, asking silently for patience from Eywa as it always did.

“Ma’ite, why don’t we take a break, hm? Come walk with me,” your mom interrupted, taking your hand and standing next to you, your four fingers got enveloped in her larger, warmer grip, strong and insistent.

“No, I wanna hear it. What do you think makes me not ready?”

You insinuating that your father was entirely going off his own wrong opinion and not knowing any better set him off. You saw the change from ticked off to borderline on edge, but instead of giving into it, he turned his back on you and went back to cleaning his gun, movements choppy and harsh. “That immaturity for a start.”

And you hissed at him—actually hissed at him when none of your siblings would ever dare to talk back to him during a lecture.

The audible gasps, the holding of breaths, and the slow turn of your father’s head looking like he was going through confusion of reality upon being hit on the head had followed. His eyes narrowed and the lines of his eyebrows got gradually lower on his face, his form seemingly expanding in mass from building anger, spine slowly straightening after fully comprehending what you just did.

“I’m way past you giving me attitude missy,” his baritone and low voice was so steady that you’d rather him yell at you like usual, but he was scarily calm, pushing you to raise your chin righteously at him to show you weren’t bothered by him none, but your ears betrayed you by cowering flat and taut against your skull. “But you’re hissing at your father now? Hm? You think this right here is gonna get you the respect you think you deserve?”

“You don’t listen,” you said, ignoring your heart trashing away from how coldly father was to you. “Disrespect,” your fingers quoting in the air resulted only in making him angrier. Neteyam to his right, silent and observant the whole argument, was furiously shaking his head that the beads in his braids were clicking loudly. “is the only way you ever pay attention to anything anymore. See? Look how sharp you are right now. Mission accomplished, I guess.”

“Bro…” Lo’ak, frightened by the wide eyed glare father was giving you, weakly protested, but you knew he would never be able to interfere in the verbal struggle between you and father the way you did to his.

“You will go to your room,” father said between his teeth, “Do not let me see your face. I swear to Eywa—Neytiri, get her outta here.“

“Do you ever want to see our faces anymore, father?”

A beat.

Mom gasped your name in shock, grabbing your arm this time as if she wanted to drag you away.

All his fury froze away immediately. “What did you just say?”

You just stared at him.

“That’s enough,” your mother snapped at you, but you didn’t hold it against her, she was more worried about what would follow if this went on. “Come on, we’re leaving.”

“Okay.” Father slowly shook his head, the storm brewing right under his skin got you preparing for the impact, and all the kids flinched when he threw the unloaded gun back in the crate. “You know so much, don’t you? You’re smart, wise. Know better than Tsahik herself. Fine, you get your way. Go.”

You froze. “What?”

“Yeah, go. Get yourself an ikran.”

“Father—”

“Don’t father me. Go on. I’m not stopping you. Since you’re so ready and you’ll say just about anything to get what you want, who am I to get in your way, huh?”

But you didn’t want it to be like this. Iknimaya was supposed to be something exciting, prideful — a ceremony. He was saying it like you were being thrown out. Who was going to paint your face? Be proud of you?

“Why are you just standing there?” He poked your crushed ego further, confident in the fact that you wouldn't set one foot outside of the cave systems at this hour of the day. “Didn’t you want this?”

You didn’t want this.

“Dad, it’s the middle of the night,” Kiri said, appalled, not quite believing her ears.

“What does it matter?” He showed you in mock pride, up and down that you couldn’t stop the tears from stinging the corners of your eyes. “Mighty hunter here is ready.”

“Jake,” your mother warned in such a threatening tone that he stopped and shifted on his feet, almost uneasy.

“What? If she doesn’t want a father’s concern I’m not giving it to her.”

Like you weren’t standing right in front of him at all.

“Jake!”

That was the final straw. You wrenched your arm free from mom’s iron grip and screamed, “I hate you!” at the top of your lungs at him before storming off the tent.

His ears flattening was the last thing you paid attention to as everything became a blur because of tears swelling. Yeah, right. You wished you could hurt him, unfortunately he was too much of a wall for that. You bet he was scoffing at your declaration right now.

Your body thought faster than your brain did even when the emotions had you drowning under the current, deciding you were going to sneak off to the ikran rookery tonight. You knew he would send Neteyam after you — him barking, “Follow your sister,” at the boy right after you hid yourself between the rocks surrounding the tent was the confirmation of the hypothesis. He was to make sure you didn’t leave High Camp.

Everyone in your family knew your favorite hiding spot to cool off, Neteyam of course was heading there automatically, and it was the headstart you needed to get a move on.

Fine. You would complete your iknimaya yourself without anybody’s support, as if these things had any value anymore with how military he’d conditioned the clan to be. You were going to make him eat his words for humiliating you.

The muffled of father drifting off flared up your determination as you soundlessly sneaked off. "Jesus, I've spoiled her too much..."

#dad!jake x daughter!reader #dad!jake sully x reader #jake sully x reader #jake sully x daughter!reader #dad!jake sully x daughter!reader #sully family x reader #mom!neytiri x reader #neteyam x sister!reader #neytiri x daughter!reader #lo'ak x sister!reader #kiri x sister!reader #irma: 📝#📖: light

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chososlittlecrybaby · 10 months

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HASHIRAS REACT TO YOU BEING A BRAT !!

Scenario: You and them were training and you couldn’t find an opening to strike them leaving them multiple chances to strike you and you got so fed up and you threw your wooden sword on the floor and started shouting at them letting your anger issues get the best of you.

(Went over board with my baby obanai 💔)

NOT proof read.

𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 ✧

GYOMEI HIMEJIMA

Gyomei ‘looked’ at you in confusion trying to figure out why you were acting like this. He tried his best to calm you down, saying things like— “Calm down, Im sorry. I didn’t realize how hard I was being on you.” or “This behavior is really unnecessary. Calm down.” Either way you had a snarky remark.

“I don’t fucking care, how about you shut the fuck and let me think for a second.” You said , pacing around. His eyebrows furrowed, his anger slowly rising trying to be patient with you.

Unexpectedly, Gyomei grabbed your upper arm and faced you to him. Your face hitting his chest as he lowered himself to your level. Not being able to look at you in the eyes directly because he’s blind. “Breathe.” Is all he said. You took deep breaths trying to calm down.

Once you finally calm down and lean into his touch you whispered an apology. “Sorry master Gyomei.” All his anger suddenly evaporating as he felt your breathing even out. “Its okay.”

You felt his hands travel down to your waist and grip it. “Although, that type if behavior comes with consequences.” He said, voice deepening. You gulped. Scared of what he had in store for you.

TOMIOKA GIYUU

He just stared at you. He was never good when it came to handling people’s emotions. “It’s never that serious.. Y/N calm down.” You heard him faintly say. His voice low. “Don’t you ever, and I mean ever tell me shits not that serious.” You say, angrily. Walking up to him, dangerously close. “I suggest you back up if you know what good for you.” He said. Locking eyes with yours.

You scoffed, getting closer than you already were if that was even possible. Giyuu felt like you were testing his patience, he felt as if you thought he couldn’t touch you.

He gripped your face, squishing your cheeks together. “Watch who you’re talking to Y/N. You’re acting like a child like every other day I don’t have you laid up in my mansion unable to move.” Giyuu said, his mouth so close to your ear.

“ m’sorry..” You said, closing your eyes out of embarrassment. “gimmie a kiss baby.” He said, pulling away from your ear, giving you the sloppiest kiss ever.

SHINOBU KOUCHO

“Oh my, whats the matter?” She asked, taking a few steps back. “This shit is frustrating! I cant get a hit, im getting fucking mad.” You yelled, kicking the dirt. “Hey its okay really.” She gave you a weak smile. “Its not, I-its not!” You said, tears began to fall. “Y-You’re so mean shinobu! “ You yelled, attempting to slap her arm.

She stopped the slap by grabbing your wrist, applying pressure, making you wince. “Calm down. You should know better than to hit a hashira let alone your trainer.” She said, eyes piercing through you.

“sorry master koucho..”. you said weakly, before she let go of your wrist. “thought so.”

MITSURI KANROJI

She didn’t know what to do, she was confused and panicking. She tried her best to calm you down. “Im sorry! Im sorry!” she said, hugging you.

You calmed down and melted into her touch. her fingers caressing your arms. “you have to try okay my love? You can’t expect to just be able to land a hit on me without training.” she said, her voice soft and smooth. She calmed you down so fast as if this was a everyday occurrence.

MUICHIRO TOKITO

He stared at you blankly. just letting your tantrum run through. He had no idea why you were acting like this and didn’t really want to know.

“Pick your sword back up and stop procrastinating and come on.” He said. Your blood started to boil. He was making you angry. “Im not going to put up with your temper tantrums. So come on” He said once more. He was starting to get mad.

“Im not! Im going to quit for today.” You raised your voice. “No you’re not come on.” His voice starting to rise. You turn back and said something along the lines of, “im not gonna sit here and have you throw me on the floor for fun muichiro. You making me mad.” You started moving your hands when you were talking.

“Does it look like I care? stop acting like a child and grow up!” He yelled, which took you back.

“excuse me?” You said, wanting him to repeat what he said.

welp in the end the two of you bickered until the sun set.

SANEMI SHINAZUGAWA

He got angry before you could even get angry. “You could’ve hit me right there. why are you so slow?!” He yelled in your face. You put your hand on his chest and pushed him away. “Boy back the hell up!” You said.

He was took back by the base in your voice, glaring at you. “Watch who you talking to.” He said, gripping your upper arm. “OW NIGGA!” You yelled, hitting him trying to get the grip to let up.

“quit all that fussin.” He said,pulling you closer. “We are going to try again, and this time you better knock me in my head.” He said , being dead serious “Yes sir.” You rolled your eyes. He snapped his neck towards you and gave you a look immediately shutting you up.

OBANAI IGURO

“Shut the hell up with that whining shit. You know I don’t like that.” He hissed. “b-but master! I can’t do it!”You whined. He always felt sorry for you when you couldn’t get something down and you’d stress about it.

“What did I just tell you?” He said, eyes slanting a little. Earlier today Tengen told him that he was babying you too much and now he can finally see that.

“You’re going to keep trying until you get it right. You’re so damn spoiled, I see what Tengens talking about.” He said from across the field. You got offended wanting to say something back but Obanai knew you better than yourself.

“I dont want to hear you saying anything. Come at me again.” He said. You refused. Not moving a muscle. Why should you have to listen to him? “No.” You said, sweat starting to form. “You’re literally shaking. Im not going to hurt you.” He said once again, but you didnt budge. “Go talk about me to Tengen I can train myself.

“Thats what youre mad about?” Obanai has venom in his voice. In a blink of an eye he was right in front of you. A hand was wrapped around your throat. “Lose the fucking attitude.” He whispered. “I hate when you whine about stupid shit. If I tell you to do something then you do it.” He continued. “Isn’t that right mama?” He looked at you. “Y-yes iguro.” You hate when he had full control over you but you loved it so much.

“Get your shit together and come on ‘for I fuck you outside.”

“yes master iguro.”

RENGOKU KYOJURO

Like Mitsuri, he started panicking. “Okay okay! I realized this is way beyond your level lets start slow!” sweat coming down his face.

“NO! I wanna do it till i get it right. Stop treating me like a baby!” You yelled and picked your wooden sword back up.

“Well you are getting angry so maybe stop!” He said, still keeping his cheerful expression. Your rolled your eyes and got into stance knowing that your attitude was going to get nowhere with him.

TENGEN UZUI

“well that’s really unflashy.” He said, one hand on his hip. “Will you shut up?” You said, voice very low. “What was that? Speak up. I couldn’t quite catch that.” He said, sarcastically. “I said can you shut up?” You said louder, making sure he heard you.

“Hey you know thats kind of rude for someone who keeps falling on their ass.” Tengen said. “Maybe if you stop fighting me like I was a damn demon then maybe i wouldnt be falling on my ass all the time? I dont know just a thought.” You said. “Pick up your sword and stop being a baby.” He said, smile plastered on his face.

You grabbed your sword coming at him with full force, faster than before catching him completely off guard. He grabbed both of your arms and pinned them behind your back. “You need to calm down” He said, voice laced with shock and slight anger.

You rolled your eyes knowing that he won’t be nice with you anymore while training.

#black reader #demon slayer #demonslayer smut #gyomei x reader #tomioka giyu x reader #shinobu x reader #mitsuri x reader #muichiro x reader #sanemi x reader #obanai x reader #rengoku x reader #tengen x reader

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aphroditessaturn · 10 months

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𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 || 𝐌. 𝐎.

pairing || miguel o'hara x fem!reader (is a spider-woman, tho nothing specific)

summary || you have anger issues and it’s no secret to anyone in the Spider-Society, Miguel might as well be the only who can tame you. His methods are, quite effective…

warning || smut! p in vi, oral (female [fingering] and male receiving) throat fucking, nipple play, spanking if you squint

note || I had to get him out of my system and I'm not even done, this piece is for my anger issues and I need a Miguel to fuck them out of me. please reblog/comment and give feedback! I would love to know if you like my Miguel fics, I have so many more ideas

legend || mi luciérnaga = my firefly; abre la boca = open your mouth; buena niña = good girl; mocosa = brat; puta = whore; dios mío = my god; niña traviesa = naughty girl

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“I do not have anger issues, who does he think he is?” you asked to no one in particular while walking around Miguel. He let out a sigh, pressing his fingertips against temples.

“He’s like what? 15, yeah you don’t say that to someone twice your age,” you continued, your blood pressure building up with every second you thought about the incident.

Miguel tried to be calm, but the last mission worked him up and scratched on his nerves. The mission went fairly well, except for you going ballistic and the newcomer – Miles – commenting on it. Oh, and the target almost escaping because of Miles which lead to all of this.

“Can’t fucking believe this, he was the reason the mission almost failed, and he dares to say I have anger issues!” the last part you nearly screamed. You never paused, always moving around.

You couldn’t stay calm, couldn’t calm down. Every vein beneath your skin run hot, some just waiting to explode.

Suddenly both of you heard someone coming near Miguel’s platform, said Spider turned around with a glare. He knew exactly who came and what would happen if you saw him, but now there was no preventing it.

You walked to the edge of the platform and looked down at Miles, “came to apologize?” you asked and crossed your arms over your chest.

Miles looked confused, no he wasn’t here to apologize, and he would make that clear, “you threatened me, screamed at me because I let the anomaly almost escape. You overreacted,” he stated.

Your eyes squinted together, expression hardening. “You can’t do a thing right and accuse me of having anger issues? I do not have fucking anger issues!”

Just as you were about lounge at Miles, arms wrapped around your waist, “enough,” Miguel’s deep voice rang through your ears. Normally his voice would smooth you, but you were already too gone.

Your man however ignored that and pushed you behind him.

“Miles, we will talk about this later. You made a mistake -,” “what, you’re saying she didn’t go bonkers?” Miles didn’t want to accept that what you did was right.

“If you’d let me finish, you would know that she will get her fair share of consequences,” Miguel snapped at the young boy, while it made a small part of Miles feel better it only angered you more.

“Are you serious? You let that little shit get away with saying I’m in the wrong? He lost the target and we had to-,” you couldn’t finish your sentence. “Miles, leave,” Miguel’s voice was dark and left no room for back talk, he sounded scary to be honest.

Miles immediately left, knowing it was better for now and he needed to get away from you.

“We weren’t finished yet,” you barked at Miguel who didn’t bat an eye. You stalked up to him, trying to intimidate him – unsuccessfully. “Yes, we were and it’s time you calm down, mocosa,” he whispered and grabbed your waist.

You were manhandled onto his desk, wrists held together in his right hand. With his left hand he ripped down your suit, “you asshole! Can’t you-,” “yeah mocosa, stop your whining,” Miguel rolled his eyes.

Without warning he pushed pointer and middle finger into your drenched cunt, you gasped. Realising with just a few words he had you wet and in your rage you didn’t even notice.

He curled his fingers against your walls, your head fell back. Right hand letting go of your wrists and sliding down to your neck.

Miguel moved his head into the crook of your neck, kissing along your carotid artery.

A shudder run down your spine when you felt his sharp teeth graze your skin. You adored the feeling of his teeth piercing your skin as it made you feel a kind of pleasure nothing else brought you.

Miguel had easily picked up on that all those years ago and now used it taunt you, “niña traviesa,” he commented with a small smirk.

His fingers kept a slow pace, it was torture and Miguel knew that. “Miguel,” you snapped, a plead for more however the man above you wasn’t having it. “You think you can be a mocosa and I’ll just give you what you want?”

“I wasn’t a brat! It’s not my fault your spider people can’t do their job and then-,” “dios mío,” again Miguel cut you off, picking up the pace.

Hitting that spongy spot inside you which pulled a loud moan from your lips. As his fingers worked their magic on brining you closer to your high, Miguel run his tongue along your earlobe and gently nibbled on your skin. With your hands free you threaded them through his beautiful hair

You closed your eyes, the feeling just too wonderful and for a moment you lost yourself but quickly Miguel reminded you that this was a punishment.

“Look. At. Me,” his voice deep, commanding. His hand was suddenly in your hair, gripping it tight as he pulled your head back. It was a way to underline his words.

You looked at him with pleading eyes, god you loved this side of him. Miguel would make you take whatever he gave you if you could or not – you were surprised with how much you could actually take.

“I’ve barley did anything and you’re already putty in my hands,” he teased, slowing his pace down again. You wanted to scoff at his words.

He didn’t do ‘barley anything’, he almost bit into your sensitive neck, rubbed his fingertips over you bundle of nerves and hit your g-spot with every thrust. Miguel very well knew that all those little things would send your body into overdrive.

“You know exactly what you did!” you spit at him and drew a low chuckle from him, it amused him how you kept pushing, “are you that much of a puta for me that you can’t shut up?” “Guess if you want me to shut up then you have to fuck my-,” “fine.” Miguel retrieved his fingers from your cunt pulling a whine from you.

Both hands gripped your middle, manhandling you down to your knees. He gripped your chin with his thumb and pointer finger tilting your head up to look deep into your eyes.

Then his suit slowly started to dissolve, starting by his neck, and revealing his naked, toned chest, his broad shoulders, and muscled arms. The light of the screens dipped Miguel into a dangerous red which made him look like the devil in person.

Now he was completely naked, his mushroom formed tip hitting his lower abdomen. “Abre la boca,” when you didn’t instantly comply Miguel slapped your cheek, causing you to gasp and open your mouth, “now,” he added.

His thumb moved between your lips and pressed onto your tongue to make you kept your mouth open, “you’re going to be a buena niña and suck my cock.”

You caved and let your mouth hang open, tongue already awaiting him. At first, he gently placed his tip on your tongue, giving you a chance to taste his salty precum. Then without warning he thrusted his cock full on into your mouth.

You gagged as it hit the back of your throat, Miguel looked down on you. There was still a part of him that didn’t fit inside your mouth, but it was his mission to make sure it did.

Miguel began fucking your face, abusing your throat with his harsh thrusts. You looked up at him with teary eyes, his head was tipped back in pleasure and a deep groan fell from his lips. You clenched your thighs together, you were a whore for Miguel as it was already but something that always got you were his moans.

Miguel was vocal, so fucking vocal. For one his mouth never stopped running, but then there were his moans. They were deep, hoarse, and loud.

However, your throat couldn’t keep up with his pace any longer, though you loved the feeling of getting used by him too much. Salvia dripped from the corner of your mouth, his cock twitched in your mouth which was his cue to pull away.

You whimpered pathetically, of course Miguel catched up on that and wiped your mouth with his thumb. “Such a cock slut already, just for me,” he stroked over your hair before kneeling down your level and hosting up into his arms. Your back hit his desk, legs dangling over the edge.

“What hermosa? No, smart comment?” Miguel teased with a smirk, you couldn’t say a word. Your throat hurt, no tone would come from your lips.

Miguel dipped his head down, teeth closing around your nipple while his right hand grabbed your breast. Massaging it as his tongue lapped on your nipple, causing you to whimper again. In response your man slapped your breast making you moan, “fuck,” your voice barely audible, throaty thanks to Miguel.

Switching sides he sucked on your right nipple, your hand coming up to grab his hair and pulling on his roots. “Ay, dios mío,” Miguel moaned, loudly.

He pinched your neglected nipple causing you to arch your back and a line of goosebumps to adorn your skin.

Suddenly you felt his tip stroke over your drenched entrance, distracted by his work on your breasts you hadn’t noticed immediately.

“Miguel,” you whispered and in the next moment he had plunged his huge cock into your cunt. A pained yet pleasurable moan left your body, loud and hoarse.

His cock was big, and thick, god even after all this years you needed time to adjust to his size. You could feel those veins, how he stretched you out. “Don’t fret mi luciérnaga, I’m not fully inside you yet,” Miguel whispered against your lips before kissing you.

You loved his kisses, they were full of fire and passion. Miguel kissed you like he owned you – he did, and it was one of your favourite things. His lips were so soft and warm, sliding over yours before his teeth bit into your bottom lip.

“After all those years and you’re still so tight,” he gushed and slowly pushed deeper inside you, lifting his head to look at you with a smirk.

“Feel that mi luciérnaga? Feel me deep inside your belly,” Miguel pressed his hand onto your stomach, feeling his tip bulge out, “am I too big for you?” he taunted.

You didn’t know what possesed you, but something did, “you wish,” you snapped. Miguel looked dumbfounded for a second before his expression turned into a glare, “guess my mocosa is back.”

He pulled out all the way before harshly pushing back in with his full length, cunt pulsing around him as he pounded into you without mercy. You couldn’t catch a break, he constantly hit your sensitive spot, “you like it, huh, like me fucking you like the puta you are,” aside from his cock pushing you into an abyss of pleasure, Miguel’s voice made you shiver.

It also didn’t help that he groaned uncontrollably, growling when you tightened around him. You were close, so fucking close and he knew it.

Miguel wrapped your legs tight around his waist to keep you close. His thrusts became harsher, and his thumb pressed down on your bundle of nerves, drawing hard circles.

His pace was animalistic, “look at you, mi luciérnaga already cock drunk. That’s what you need, someone to fuck all the anger out of you, fuck you dumb.” You couldn’t say anything, only unidentified words came past your lips.

Your high was near, it came and washed over you like a fresh shower, “mhm, come for me, buena niña,” Miguel only strengthened it.

“I’m not finished yet,” he stated and manhandled you, so your back was turned to him.

All the while still having his cock in your needy cunt and fucking you through your orgasm. His hands gripped your ass as he rutted into you, “Miguel,” you whined, holding onto his desk, “come on where’s your fire mi luciérnaga?” he slapped your ass.

You had nothing in you anymore, your head was completely empty. As much as would’ve wanted, you couldn’t. You just laid there, enjoying the pleasure, and taking everything Miguel gave you.

“Maldito infierno,” he cursed as he reached his orgasm, for a moment he stilled inside you and painted your velvet walls with his cum. Filling you up to the brim, not pulling out.

He slid his hand around you and pulled you against his broad chest, right hand wrapping around your throat like a necklace.

“How you feeling mi luciérnaga,” he whispered, softly stroking your sides while you closed your eyes.

“’m fine, Miggy,” you mused laying your head on his shoulders. Everything felt at peace, you were calm and had no issues with anything.

You could just lean against Miguel and he would take of you. He scooped you up and slowly pulled out to make sure he didn't hurt you, his cum leaking out of your cunt. A sight Miguel could never forget – one he didn't want to forget.

Miguel went to your universe, laying you into your bed and cleaning you up. Meanwhile you dazed around, until he joined you in bed.

"I don't have anger issues," you muttered into him as you cuddled up against him.

He covered you two with the blanket, "no, you don't," he agreed and pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. You were fast asleep, tired and spend while Miguel admired your beauty.

You have anger issues, always will but Miguel knew an affective method to control them. Add to that he loved your fire, needed it.

And Miles did fuck up.

please reblog/comment and give feedback! I would love to know if you like my Miguel fics, I have so many more ideas

BLOGS | WEBSITE | AO3 | WATTPAD | TAGLIST

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara one shot #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x spiderwoman!reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fic

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phoward89 · 2 months

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Banner by me, dividers by @saradika-graphics

Based on this ask

Head Gamemaker!Coriolanus Snow, Young Politician!Coriolanus Snow, Coriolanus and Reader are 25 in this.

Warnings! Cussing, Premature labor, mention of suicide, mention of death, heavy angst, underage smoking um I think that's it...

Hate That I Love You

There's an old saying that goes 'There's a fine line between love and hate'. An old saying that would ring true about your relationship with Coriolanus Snow.

Coriolanus needed to marry for power and money in order to cement his path to political (presidential) success. Which is why he married you.

Lucky you…

Anyways, he brokered an arranged marriage with your step-father, who was a high ranking general in the Peacekeepers, by reminding him that your real father Colonel Halvir had served with his father, General Crassus Snow. That they had died together in the woods of 12 by the hands of rebels and it's only fitting that the heirs of both military greats marry.

Honestly, he just wanted your step-father’s money and political support. What better way to get a seat on the war council then to marry the step-daughter of the Head Of The War Department.

Yea, your step-father was given that position after Dr. Gaul met a tragic and accidental death. It's such a pity that she ‘accidently’ slipped and fell into a tank of deadly mutts.

Well, Coriolanus was given her position as Head Gamemaker at only 23 while your family got an even bigger boost in political power.

Of course, your step-father agreed to the match. Your mother was leery about it and your older brother, Rein, honestly didn't give a shit since he was off in one of the districts serving as a peacekeeper. Your younger half-brother, Darius, thought that you were marrying a cold blooded snake.

Oh, how he couldn't be more spot on if he tried.

9 months of marriage (7 of them being pregnant) and your husband was still cold and offish to you. He seemed to avoid you, unless he wanted to get his dick wet.

Hell, he even avoided eating meals with you.

It was a miracle that he even ate Sunday dinners with you, considering he would grab the plate you made up for him and take it to his private study to eat.

All alone and locked away from you. As if you disgusted him.

You'd be lying if you said it didn't bother you, because it did. It hurts (especially since you were pregnant) having a husband that hates you. What makes it worse is that you fell in love with the cold hearted bastard. You don't even know how you managed to do that, but you did.

And on top of everything, your pregnancy wasn't the easiest one either. Even though you’re young, you've been extremely stressed (of course you're stressed, look at who your husband is) and your OBGYN told you that you needed to calm down or else you'd be at risk for a few health issues.

Mostly high blood pressure and…well…you didn't even want to think about the other one the doctor mentioned.

Of course, since your husband’s too busy campaigning for the Senate (he claimed that he needed to become a Senator before he could even think about running for President) he never went to any of your appointments. He offered though. He always offered to go with you, but you always waved him off and told him to worry about his campaign.

That you'd be fine going to the doctor by yourself.

But the truth was, you just couldn't handle pretending to be a happy couple in at the doctor's office. It was easier to let everyone at OBGYN’s office to believe that Coriolanus was busy with his political ambitions along with being the head gamemaker then having them see how uninterested he was in your pregnancy.

How fake his smiles were; how his hands shook with disgust when holding yours.

You were afraid the little cracks in the facade you put on with Coriolanus for the public would crack in the doctor's office. It was too much of a close, intimate setting for the cracks not to be easily hidden.

It wasn't like when he drags you around to galas, showing you off on your arm to the right people only to shoo you off to talk to the rich Capitol housewives. You didn't spend too much time at galas with him. You spent your time playing the part of a pretty perfect housewife that got along with other rich women while your husband spent his time networking.

Talk about your husband, Coriolanus was currently in staring at his reflection in the floor length mirror near the closet while tying his red and black damask tie in a Windsor knot. He looked perfectly handsome today. His platinum hair (Which you were shocked to find out was natural. Say what?!) was perfectly styled and slicked back with gel and his face was freshly shaved. Like always, he was dressed in one of his custom suits that cost more than what somebody in the mines, fields, and factories of the districts made in a month.

It was a black one with a matching waistcoat. Which was a far cry from all white and various shades of red he wore.

Hell, it wasn't just him that wore white and various shades of red, but you too since he deemed what dresses were in your closet. Eh, at least he had his cousin design you some pink dresses to wear in-between all the white and reds he curses you with.

Pink was your favorite color, but you know that he's got no clue. Having his cousin design a few pink dresses for you was just a coincidence.

It didn't mean anything.

As Coriolanus tied his tie with a Windsor knot, his icy blue eyes watched you from the mirror. You were across the room, sitting at the your vanity. Your were brushing your hair and looked a bit lost in your thoughts.

He wanted you ask you what was on your mind, but he was…

Scared.

Yes, he was scared to put himself in a situation where he had to have an actual conversation with you outside of the clipped responses and simple questions that are detrimental to married life.

Coriolanus was afraid that if he talked, truly talked with you, then the well kept secret he's been keeping for the last few months would come spilling out. That he'd have to confront his feelings for you because he knew that once he started to listen to you share your thoughts that he'd be a goner.

That his hard, cold mask he wears around you would shatter.

He just couldn't have that.

He couldn't allow himself to admit that he's in love with you.

Coriolanus swore to himself that he'd never fall in love again. That he'd never give somebody so much power and control over him and his emotions ever again.

That he'd never make himself become weak for a woman.

After Lucy Gray broke his heart by betraying him, manipulating him, and using him to keep her ungrateful ass alive, he swore off love.

Love was painful.

He learned that the hard way.

Love was a weakness that he couldn't afford.

So, he decided to marry somebody that he felt that he'd never be able to love. Somebody that he could even hate. And that's why he picked you.

Yes, your step-father was a very prominent general, but it was your mother's blood running in your veins that made you the perfect candidate for marriage. It was the worst best kept secret in the Capitol that your mother, Helenium, had baby trapped your father, an officer in the peacekeepers, into marrying to rise out of poverty in District 12. The fact that you had district blood, not any district but 12, blood running in your veins was reason enough for Coriolanus to hate you.

So, assuming that he'd hate you til her grew old and died, he approached your step-father about marrying you.

Unfortunately, he didn't anticipate how easy you truly were to fall in love with.

Fuck!

He hated it.

Coriolanus hated having feelings for you.

He didn't like feelings.

He refuses to acknowledge them.

As long as he ignored his feelings then he couldn't get hurt. You couldn't hurt him.

He's never let himself get hurt over love ever again.

Coriolanus was about to turn away from the mirror and walk out of the room, but stopped himself whenever he heard your breath hitch and saw you quickly place your hand on your rounded belly.

Was something wrong? The last time you had a doctor's appointment he intended to take the morning off, but you insisted that he meet with his political team and work on his Senate campaign. But when he got home he asked you how the appointment went and you told him everything was fine.

Did you lie to him?

Turning around to look at you, he asked, “Are you alright, Y/N?”

You powered through the sharp pain and nodded, “I'm fine, Coriolanus.”

“Are you sure?” Your husband asked, starting to make his way over to you with worry in his striking blue eyes.

“I'm sure, Coriolanus.” You lied.

You weren't fine. You were having sharp pains; felt a bit nervous too since you were only 7 months along in your pregnancy. But, you couldn't tell your husband that.

Coriolanus was as cold as his name- Snow.

He didn't give a fuck about you.

Hell, you could die in childbirth and he wouldn't even care. He'd just hire a nanny to raise his heir, your baby boy Cassian Xandros, and then he'd just find somebody else to marry. Somebody else to hate and make miserable.

You felt that Coriolanus wouldn't shed a single tear if something went wrong and you died in childbirth. That he wouldn't mourn you, wouldn't give a shit if your headstone was overrun with weeds and overgrowth.

You were so wrong though. So very wrong about that.

Coriolanus would be utterly heartbroken if he lost you the same way he lost his mother and baby sister. He'd blame himself.

He'd be eating a bullet and joining you in that graveyard, making your son an orphan, if you died in childbirth.

A thin, but fake smile, graces your lips as you assured him, “I'm fine, Coriolanus. It's probably just braxton hicks or something.” You felt him stop right next to you as you set your brush down. His shadow fell over you, but you refused to look up at him. Instead you reached for your powder compact.

Coriolanus gave it to you as a gift after you told him you were pregnant. It was silver and had roses engraved on it. The face powder inside of it smelled like roses too.

Unknown to you, him giving you that compact was his love language.

It belonged to his mother.

The first time he gave it to somebody it was filled with poison to help that manipulative performer of a bitch Lucy Gray to cheat in the arena during the 10th Hunger Games.

The second time he gave it to somebody, the reasoning wasn't twisted, but was genuine. Coriolanus thoroughly cleaned his mother's compact, filled it with rose scented face powder, and gave it to you after learning that you were carrying his child.

He gave it to you because you made him happy. Because you were giving him a family.

It was also the moment when he realized he didn't hate you at all, but actually had feelings for you.

Coriolanus would never admit it, but your pregnancy wasn't a happy one for him. He imagined that he'd be more involved, but you were pushing him so hard to focus on his campaign.

Even though he avoided talking to you for longer then he had to, he still wanted to be involved with your pregnancy. Maybe the next one’ll be happier since he won't be campaigning.

And yes, he planned on having at least one more child with you. Cassian Xandros needed a sibling after all.

Opening the compact and grabbing the puff inside, you told your husband, “I'm fine, really.” Patting the puff into the compact’s powder, you urge him to leave. “If you don't go, you'll be late for your political meetings and duties as head Gamemaker.”

Coriolanus nodded, only to rub your shoulder and say, “If you need me, call me.”, before pivoting on his heel and walking out of your master bedroom.

You thought that your pains would ease up, but they didn't. As the day progressed, so did they.

It got to the point that as you gazed outside the window, looking at the bustling city streets below, you debated on whether or not to call your husband.

Coriolanus told you to call him if you needed him. But, did you need him? Maybe. Hell, you didn't know. All you knew was that he didn't care about you; would probably be upset that you called him. He was a busy man; you doubt that he actually meant it when he told you to call him.

He probably just said it because it was the husbandly thing to say to a wife that seemed upset.

He didn't mean it. No, he was cold and unfeeling towards you so the less you bothered him the better.

Coriolanus was busy preparing for the start of the games and running a Senate campaign. He didn't need to be bothered by you and your pains.

You let out cry, feeling like a thunderbolt has struck your side. Oh god, the pains were getting worse.

Clenching your teeth, you turned away from the window to shuffle over to the phone.

You weren't going to call your husband. No, you couldn't do that. But, maybe you could call your doctor instead.

You never called your doctor.

Your sure as hell didn't call your Coriolanus either.

Instead, your 17 year old brother did. And that call, well, it gutted your husband.

He just replayed it over and over again in his mind as he rushed to the hospital (opting to snag the car keys from his driver, Bentley, and just gun it to Capitol General Hospital himself).

“This is Head Gamemaker Coriolanus Snow, to whom am I speaking with?” Coriolanus answered his office phone, like he always did, with a polite but professional greeting.

“Coriolanus, bro, it's Darius-” Your brother began to say, only for the aspiring senator to cut him off with a question of, “Darius, what are you calling me for? Shouldn't you be in class at the Academy right now?”

“Dude, you're the damn Head Gamer, did you forget how the top students are stuck mentoring tributes from districts without Victor's to act as mentors?” Darius asked in a ‘duh, you're an idiot’ type of tone. “I'm stuck being a mentor for District 8 and was given half the day off to go to the Tribute Housing center to make sure everything's all prepared and shit. So, before going over to that shit hole of a glorified hotel, I went to visit my sister, but I found her passed out and bleeding. I had to call the medics.”

Coriolanus’ couldn't believe his ears. You passed out and bleeding! Were you alright? Were you hurt? Was something wrong with the baby? Were you downplaying your pains this morning so he'd go to work instead of staying home with you?

So many questions ran through his platinum blonde head, but before he could string his thoughts together to form a coherent sentence, Darius told him, “You need to get to the hospital quick, Coriolanus. I'm just her brother and can't make any medical decisions for her since she's married to you.” Your little brother let out a shaky breath. “They saved the baby; it's in the NICU cause it came so early, but it's touch and go with Y/N.”

“What?...” Coriolanus let out in a whooshing breath.

Touch and go…

Did that mean?...

No…

No!

He couldn't lose you. Not now, not when he finally realized that he didn't hate you at all, but truly did love you with every fiber of his being.

“I’ll be right there. Thank you for calling, Darius.”

“Don't thank me, Coriolanus.” Darius spat, only to go on a long rant of, “I only called you because I can't make medical decisions for my sister and the hospital staff’s pussies that are too scared shitless of you to do it. If it was up to me, I wouldn't have called cause you're a cold hearted snake that doesn't deserve my sister. Y/N deserved a man that actually cares about her, not somebody that just takes her off a shelf and plays with her like a fucking doll when the mood hits.”

All Coriolanus could do was blink as his brother-in-law hung up on him.

Coriolanus' knuckles were holding onto the steering wheel with a white knuckle grip as he broke every traffic law known to man to get to the hospital.

The fact that he could lose you just like he lost his mother was fucking with his head. It was breaking him in ways that he never knew he could be broken.

Love is a painful thing. Love hurts. Love is the only thing to bring him to his knees. A feeling that he hates.

A feeling that he's tried to avoid.

But he couldn't avoid his feelings for you anymore.

Once he reached the hospital, Coriolanus inquired about your room, only to rush to your side. When he reached your room, you were hooked up to some machines and monitors.

Your little brother, Darius, was by your side. He was smoking a cigarette (which is not allowed in a hospital, by the way) while watching the Makary Show, which was a TV talk show where district women dragged peacekeepers and Capitol men they claimed were their baby daddies to do paternity tests.

“You can't smoke in here, Darius.” Coriolanus told your little brother while making his way to your bedside.

“It's a private room, cause the name Snow gets the VIP treatment, so it ain't like anyone's gonna complain bout it.”

“Y/N doesn't need to be exposed to it while she's fighting for her life. Be considerate of your sister.” Your husband hissed at your little brother.

“Oh, so now you give a fuck about her all of a sudden? Oooo…that's nice to know.”

Coriolanus' frostily stared Darius as he seethed, “Don't stand here and assume you know how I feel about my wife because you don't. Now, you need to leave.”

“I’ll let my parents know what's going on with Y/N.” Darius sighed, tossing his half smoked cigarette into his water cup before standing to his feet.

Without another word, your brother left your husband alone in your room.

Coriolanus took vigil by your bedside. He never left your side. Not even when a nurse came in and asked if he wanted to be escorted to the NICU to see his son.

He refused, saying that he'd see Cassian Xandros with you when you woke up.

The nurse sadly nodded and left him be. She thought he was grasping at straws since there was a chance that you wouldn't wake up.

Coriolanus begged you to wake up. Promised to make an effort to be around more of you'd only open your beautiful eyes from him.

And finally, after 3 days in a coma, you blinked your eyes open. At first your vision was a bit blurry as you heard a gasp from next to you. As your vision cleared, you saw your that your husband's face was near yours.

And he was crying.

He was crying?

Why was he crying?

You took in his appearance and realized that he looked like shit. His platinum curls, usually slick back with gel, were disheveled and greasy. He also had light blonde stuble covering his jaw.

But it was his icy blue eyes that tooth your breath away.

They held so much relief in them as they welled with water.

“Corio-” You began to ask, only for your husband to cut you off. “My darling, I thought I was going to lose you.” Coriolanus held you close to his chest and his voice cracked.

“Lose me? What happened?” You asked, pulling away from his hold to look up at him with confusion shining in your eyes.

“Darius found you passed out and bleeding, Y/N. You've been out of it for roughly 3 days.” Your husband explained, his usually firm voice a bit unsteady.

The air was knocked out of your lungs as the realization of what happened hit you. “The baby?...” You shakily asked, hoping that your baby boy survived.

“Cassian Xandros is strong and a survivor, just like us.” Coriolanus smiled. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, he explained, ‘He's in the NICU; the nurse can take us to see him.”

Assuming that Coriolanus has seen your son already, you innocently asked, “Does he look like me or like you?”

“I don't know, darling. I've been waiting for you to wake up so we can see him together.”

Your husband's answer blindsided you. You weren't expecting that.

But what he said next, well, that rendered you speechless.

His baby blue eyes met yours as he poured out his blackened soul to you. His fingers threaded with yours as he confessed, “I was terrified that you weren't going to make it, Y/N. I was afraid that I'd have to go through the pain of heartbreak all over again.”

Your eyes widened at his words. Heartbreak? Did that mean…

“The first time I fell in love it was 7 years ago, when I was Lucy Gray’s mentor.”

You didn't need to hear that. You already knew he fell for her. Hell, everyone that was in the Top 24 of the Academy graduating class of 10 ADD knew that (yourself included).

Great, so he was going to tell you that he was still hung up on his lost first love while you lay in the hospital bed? What a cold hearted man you were married to. Hell, why would he even do that.

A glazed over look appeared in his eyes and his baritone grew tight. “I nearly destroyed my entire life for her. For love. And you know where it got me? Heartbroken, used up, betrayed, and alone.”

“Corio-”, You began, not understanding where he was coming from, only for him to interrupt you with the simple request of, “Please, call me Coryo.”

You nodded, prompting him to continue his holy confession, “Lucy Gray and her love left me feeling like a fool. I hated feeling like that and swore that I'd never let myself feel that way again. That I’d never fall in love again.” Coryo's thumb brushed over your knuckles. “I swore to marry a woman that I could never love, but only hate in order to never feel weak, broken, humiliated, and manipulated again.”

Great…so now it's confirmed that he hates you. You always suspected it, but now you know the truth for sure. You swallowed down a lump in your truth and softly said, “I understand, Coryo.”

“No, I don't think you do, darling.” Your husband shook his head, making his blonde curls rustle around. “I hate myself for loving you, my darling rose, because you have the power to destroy me if you wish.”

“Y-you love me?” You gasped as tears began to tickle your eyes.

“Yes.” Your husband smiled. “Very much and it frightens me because of what happened between me and that manipulative bitch all those years ago.”

Oh wow…Lucy Gray sure did do a number on your husband. Oh, if you ever got your hands on her, you'd rip hair hair out and claw her eyes out for the emotional turmoil she put Coriolanus through. If it wasn't for her breaking his heart so badly, you would’ve had a better marriage.

“I love you too, Coryo, and I'll never hurt you the way she did.’ You promised your husband.

“You better not or else I'll burn down all of Panem this time in the wake of my heartbreak.” Your husband teased before pressing a kiss to your lips.

A kiss filled with every single emotion he's ever held back from you these last few months. His lips fit perfectly against yours as he drank in your soul with every moment they made against yours.

You broke apart whenever you heard a nurse loudly clearing her throat. Once you looked to the woman, she smiled and simply said, ‘I’m glad to see you're up, Mrs. Snow. How would you like to see your son?”

3 Months Later…

The way Cassian Xandros Snow entered the world was very dramatic but you wouldn't change a thing about it. In fact, if it wasn't for his dramatic birth then you and your husband might have gone your entire lives without confessing the love you have for each other.

Oh, that would've been horrible.

You were sitting in a white glider, rocking your son to sleep after feeding him, whenever the sound of barefeet slapping against the marble floor made you look up towards the doorway.

“Happy anniversary, darling.” Coriolanus smiled, single pink rose in his hand, as he walked into the nursery.

*Happy Anniversary, Coryo.” You smiled back, watching your husband as he made his way over to your side. Flickering your eyes between the pink rose and his icy blue eyes, you remarked, “I was expecting a white rose, not a pink one.”

“Yes, well, it's only fitting that I give you a pink rose today. After all, pink roses are your favorite; the white ones are mine.”

“How did you know that? I never told you?”

“I can be quite observant and a bit obsessive when I'm in love.” Was Coriolanus' answer as he passed you the rose, only to take your son into his arms.

Pecking your husband on his plush lips, you honestly told him, “And I wouldn't want you any other way, Coryo.”

Because, honestly, you preferred his obsessive love over his cold and distant hate. After experiencing both, well, you quickly discovered that it was better to be the center of Coriolanus Snow's world than to not be in it at all.

He hated that he loved you, but you loved that he loved you.

Tags: @kuroosbby001, @purriteen, @poppyflower-22, @meetmeatyourworst, @whipwhoops, @bxtchopolis, @readingthingsonhere,@savagenctzen, @ryswritingrecord, @erikasurfer, @tulips2715, @universal-s1ut, @thesmutconnoisseur, @squidscottjeans, @sudek4l, @wearemadeofstardust0, @mashiromochi, @gracieroxzy, @belcalis9503, @shari-berri , @aoi-targaryen, @whiteoakoak, @spear-bearing-bi-witch, @gisellesprettylies , @loverandqueenofdragons, @qoopeeya, @mfnqueen1

#coriolanus snow #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #thg #coryo snow #coriolanus snow x reader #tom blyth #coriolanus fanfiction #tbosas fanfiction #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coryo #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus x you #coryo snow fanfiction #coryo snow x reader #tbosas x reader

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peachesofteal · 1 year

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Picture

Same pairing as "I got you". When I first wrote these, I also wrote a hefty chunk of an entire Simon Riley series that just ended up sitting in my drafts. I've been editing it slowly and now it's being uploaded.

Simon Riley/female reader Part of the Sassy series - 4.2k words - AO3 Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, pregnancy, pregnant reader, blow job, praise kink, blood, violence, injury, PTSD, anxiety, trust issues. Simon is bad at feelings. Soap is a good friend. POV switches. Soap gives Simon a picture.

There’s a gun in your nightstand. You don’t use it, ever. You don’t need it, haven’t needed it, haven’t touched it. You think, after the baby comes, you’ll put it away for good. Bury it in a locked box somewhere beneath a pile of boxes in the basement.

Speaking of boxes, you’re standing in a sea of them. Different boxes for different parts of the crib, dresser, and little bookshelf. The old recliner you used to have downstairs is up here now, nestled in the corner next to where you think you’re going to put the crib. It’s not a rocking chair, but it will have to do. It’s a sage green, the soft hue calming to your nerves, which you think helps the baby. Your baby, who the internet says is the size of a banana and can hear your heartbeat, who likes to kick you in your ribs at all hours of the night. You rub your palm over your belly as you shift your weight, staring down at the instructions for the wood paneling of the bookcase. You’re rotating the shiny paper in your hand, trying to understand which piece fits to which when your doorbell rings.

You frown. You weren’t expecting anyone. You didn’t really have friends, anyone who would visit.

Your mind wanders to the gun for a split second, but you shake it off. You’re home. You’re not in danger. There is nothing to fear. The mantra grounds you, solidifies you enough that you make your way down the stairs and peek through the peephole in the door.

When you see Soap’s face on the other side, you can practically feel your blood pressure drop.

“Hey, Johnny.” You say in greeting, face apprehensive. He lights up when you open the door, and then freezes like you’ve shot him.

“Sassafras.” He whispers in disbelief. You sigh, and step to the side.

“By yourself?” Soap stares at you like you’re nuts. You nod.

“Yeah… not like I could get in contact. Not like I wanted to, either.” He grimaces.

“So, he has no idea, you’re having his kid… you’re five months pregnant, and he doesn’t know.” You scoff.

“You make it sound like I’m helpless.” He looks from you to the pile of furniture pieces on the ground at your feet, and then to the screwdriver in his hand.

“You’re not helpless, lass.” He says softly, eyes sympathetic as they glance over your belly. “But this is a lot, for anyone to do alone.”

Later, you and Johnny sit on your back porch. He sips a beer; you drink a decaf iced tea. Bugs chirp in the grass of your little yard, the yellow glow of the string lights that you managed to get up twinkle above your heads.

“So, what’re you havin’?”

“It’s a boy.” You whisper, smile on your lips. You remembered when the doctor told you, remembered everything you felt when she said those three words. You were so… angry. How dare the universe give you a boy? How dare it give you the reminder, the carbon copy of a ghost.

Now, you’re not angry so much anymore. Only sometimes when you think about how he forced you away. How he ruined your rep with Price just to get rid of you. How he held you the last time, body pressed to yours, nose smashed against your cheek.

You’re not angry when you think about the baby. His son. Yours. You love him, already. You knew you loved him the day you decided you were going to keep him. He was your baby. Yours to love. To protect. You weren’t going to let the memories of his dad get in that way of that. You weren’t going to let yourself be haunted.

Johnny stays for a few days, sleeps on the couch. He helps you build the crib, and the dresser, and the bookshelf. You two spend the time catching up, reminiscing about the time you spent together, tromping halfway around the world.

“Trauma bonded.” You joke with an elbow to his stomach, on the good side. Not the side that he took the piece of shrapnel to that shredded his abdomen.

“Never thanked you that day. Saved my life.”

“You saved mine too. We’re even.”

When he says goodbye, you give him an ultrasound picture. You have a ton, at least six tacked to your fridge. You watch his eyes get a little misty, and you laugh.

“Come on Johnny. It’s just a picture.”

“Yeah. Of yours… and LT’s… kid.” He practically chokes on the last word, and you roll your eyes.

“Come back and see us, okay? Little guy will need an uncle.” His lips part and the he swallows before hectically nodding, sputtering promises about coming to visit as much as he can. He gives you a cell number, his, to call if you need anything or want to talk.

“Can’t imagine you’ll be available too often.” There’s no way. The 141 has a no contact rule, no communication. It’s for their safety, and everyone else’s. You both know this. He rubs his neck with a frown.

“Yah lass. But I’m still here if you need anything.” He gives you another hug before tucking the picture into a pocket and stepping off your front stoop.

If you had known what he was going to do with it, you would have never given it to him.

Simon parks two blocks away, worn print of a black blob in his hands. The edges are starting to fray, the two pieces peeling away from each other from overuse, being held too much. He’s been holding this picture in an iron grip for over a month, pulling it out from the pocket in his vest to stare at it until he forces himself to look away.

He remembers the night he got it, the night everything shifted, when the world tilted on its axis.

“LT.” Johnny had called to him that day, sought him out immediately after he got back. He didn’t want to see Johnny, didn’t want to hear what he had to say. He knew where he went. He knew he had wanted to visit you; see how you were doing.

See if you were okay. After what he did.

“I need her gone.” He had told Price, voice full of conviction. You were a distraction. A liability. Sure, you had every right to be there, but he didn’t care. He had seniority and he couldn’t think clearly. Couldn’t work. You were everywhere, in his mind, on his skin. He felt like he needed you. He tried to break himself of it at first, tried to cast you out. Disappeared on you without a word, hoping you’d give up on him. But after the bombing, the one that almost killed Johnny, and almost killed you, he couldn’t do it anymore. He could still hear the buzz of the comms, the dead silence echoing back to him when he called for you, over and over. It played on repeat in his nightmares. It dredged up old memories, reopened the scars in his mind of other losses, terrible losses that he’d never escape.

“Ghost.” Johnny’s voice was sharp, urgent. Like he sounds when something’s gone wrong. “LT, stop. I needa talk to ya.” Simon turns, stomach full of dread. He can’t place the expression on Johnny’s face. It’s grim, sure. But there’s something underneath that’s gleeful, excited. It puts him on edge, and he grunts.

“What?” There’s something in Johnny’s hand, a folded piece of paper, and he thrusts it into his chest. “What’s this?” It’s a picture of a blob with some dates at the top. There’s a name too, one he doesn’t recognize.

“Your son.”

Simon doesn’t remember a lot after that. He remembers finding a chair to slump over in, remembers staring at the ultrasound picture for a long time. Long enough that the sun went down, Johnny’s voice filtering in and out of his ears as he fought the rising panic in his chest. “- she’s doing okay but seems tired. She was trying to put the nursery together when I showed up-“ Nursery. A Nursery, like where a baby sleeps. A baby. His baby. His kid. Your kid. You were having his kid. “and she gets sick in the mornings, I could hear her throwing up from the couch but other than that she says she’s got it handled. I think-“ You were having his baby. You were making him a…. father. His mind stumbled over the word. Buried memories of his own father fought to rise to the surface, and vomit tried to crawl up his mouth. His lungs felt like they were drowning in concrete. His ears were suddenly ringing. “Ghost?” Johnny reached for his shoulder, and he pushed him away, harder than he needed to. “Whoa. Hey, LT.”

“Johnny. Shut the hell up.”

He spent the next month with the picture tucked close to his chest. He pulls it out at night, or when he’s sitting in the same spot for an extended period of time, waiting. He stares at the image, trying to work out if those are toes, or fingers, or a face. He wonders if you’re okay, if you’re taking care of yourself, if you need him. He stares at your name printed at the top, the name that he didn’t know, until now. The one you never wanted to give him, and he never understood why.

“You don’t show me your face.” you countered him one night after he made you come until you lost count, and he glowered in response, lips still wet with the taste of your cunt. The truth was, he wanted to show you his face. Wanted to take you away from the god-awful city the 141 was working through, hide you away somewhere safe and show you his face, let you memorize it the way he memorized yours.

He realized, with a carnivorous pit opening in his stomach, since he knew your name now, he could find you.

And if he could find you, others might be able to, too.

He parked two blocks away because he didn’t want to spook you. He didn’t think you’d take too kindly to a stranger pulling into your driveway at night, and he figured you’d take less kindly if that stranger was him. So, he walks. He walks down your street, eyes cataloging every house on the block, every car. Which houses have soccer nets and toys in the yard. What the speed limit was. When the last time the street had been paved or had its potholes patched. He listens to how many dogs are barking, how many engines are starting or already running. He distracts himself with it, the awareness, until he’s stepping up onto your stoop, hand hovering above your doorbell.

When you open the door, your mouth goes slack, and you stare at him like you’re seeing a ghost. He swallows, throat dry, words jammed behind his tongue. You look… off. Different. Sick. You’ve got dark circles under your eyes, and you seem exhausted.

“Simon.” You say, voice half a whisper. He’s about to say hi, say sorry, say ‘can I come in?’ when he looks the rest of you over quickly and sees your belly for the first time. It’s swollen behind a sweatshirt that’s just a little bit too big, and he watches as your hand moves to rest on top of it protectively.

“Sass.” He croaks. You sigh.

“Want to come in?”

You’re dreaming of a memory. You know you are. You remember, this, this night, like it just happened yesterday. You’re on your knees, crowded against Ghost in a shitty dive bar bathroom. The music is thumping loudly through the walls, the floor sticking to your boots.

“Thas’ it.” He mumbles, hand folding over your hair as you rock back and forth. Your mouth is stuffed full of him, lips stretched and cracked, drool dripping down your chin. So full, you can’t even flatten your tongue against your molars, but you think he likes the scrape by the way he groans every time he touches the back of your throat. “Bloody hell, Sass.” His fingers flexed against your scalp, and you feel the muscles is his legs tightening. He’s close, you can feel it, so you swallow him deeper until your eyes are leaking tears and he’s panting harshly. “That’s a good girl, just like that, so-“ He floods your throat with his come, salt and sweet and metallic filling your senses as it spills down into your stomach. He pulls you up to standing, pushing your back against the wall while he tucks himself back into his pants, and you’re about to tease him for being so quick off the mark when a fist pounds against the door, Soap’s voice on the other side.

“We got a hit.”

“Now?” you whisper, and Ghost shrugs. The 141 has been here for three weeks, tailing some small fish arms dealer, waiting for him to meet with his big fish buyer. He rights his mask, calloused fingers coming forward to adjust the collar of your shirt.

“You keep your eyes open for me, yeah?” His touch traces along your cheek, and there’s something wild running beneath the surface of his skin, something you can just barely see. You nod quickly.

“Yeah, Simon. I’ll keep em open.”

The dream shifts. You’re sprinting down the street behind little fish, after he got spooked and tried to take off. He ran in your direction. You were the only option.

“Northwest!” you spit into your comms, rapidly changing direction as he does. He turns left, and then right, and then left until you’re in an outdoor market, turning in a circle as you realize you lost sight of him.

“Sassy, report.” Price calls and you swallow against your heaving breaths.

“Lost him. I’m at… don’t know. Don’t have coordinates. Some outdoor market.”

“Roger. Make your way east, we’ll scoop you.” You sigh in relief. You were a bomb tech, not a sprinter, and certainly not a stealth operator. You give another cursory glance around before turning to leave.

That’s when the shots ring out. Small pings that turn into loud screams as people run in every direction. Inwardly, you groan, and find yourself wishing you were still on the sticky bathroom floor with Simon’s cock in your mouth. Instead, you’re out here, out of breath, dodging bullets.

You duck behind a stall to pull your gun free.

“I’m taking fire.” You speak into the comms, fidgeting with your gun as you hunch over.

“Repeat.” It’s Ghost. His voice is tense, strung tight.

“Taking-“ bullets whiz by you and you pause, but keep the line open. “fire. They’re on top of one of these buildings.” It’s radio silence for a few seconds as you crawl along the stalls, low to the ground. There’s an alley a good hundred feet away, and you definitely could make it.

“Hold your position, Sass.”

“Affirmative.” You sprint for the gap between buildings, pinning close to the wall and settling into a crouch, finger light on the trigger. You want to ask why you’re holding, but the answer comes when you hear responding fire, echo for echo against whoever’s on the roof. Price calls for you, seeking your location, and you answer quickly.

Two minutes later, Ghost is kneeling in front of you, gripping your tac vest and shoving you behind the blockade that is his body. He leads you out of the alley, steps slow and sure, confident… until you hear a pop, and then a shout.

The dream shifts, again. You’re standing in the med tent with your arms crossed while he’s getting a slug dug out of his shoulder, eyes tight behind the mask. He’s saying something to you, but the words are mush coming out of his mouth, slurred together and off beat. The medic gives him a nod when he leaves, and you release a breath

“I’m alright, Sass. It’s nothin’. C’mere.” A big hand finds yours. More words, jumbled nonsense.

A doorbell rings from behind you, towards the front of the med tent and you frown.

A doorbell.

Your eyes open and you sit up in bed, curling over your ever-present bump that seems to get in the way of everything right now. You had heard a doorbell, right? You pull the ratty old sweatshirt over your body and creep down the stairs to check the door. It’s ten o’clock at night, for Christ’s sake. Who could it be?

Fucking. Soap. You curse the Scot in your head. No good, piece of shit, sweetheart John MacTavish and his bleeding heart of gold, god damn him, you’re gonna-

Simon clears his throat behind you, from where he stands, his massive body shifting uncomfortably in your living room. You close your eyes and try to breathe through your nose. Anxiety builds in your stomach, fear prickling along your scalp. What does he want? A dark thought shudders through you, the realization that if Simon Riley wanted, he could take your son. He could wait you out, disappear with him, and never be seen again. Two ghosts.

“Simon-“

“Were you gonna tell me, Sass?” He has the gall to sound put out, indignant, and you take another deep breath to calm yourself.

“That’s a joke, right?” You turn, face pinched with irritation. “You know, maybe I could have told you, if you hadn’t gotten me fired, if you hadn’t gone and destroyed my credibility with Price.”

“You went on bloody leave, and your credibility is not destroyed.”

“Yeah, sure.” You roll your eyes and then take a second to look at him, closely. His massive legs are straining in a pair of jeans, black sweatshirt with a hood pulled over his head and the infamous balaclava. He’s not wearing the paint, which surprises you, but you keep it to yourself. He looks good, and your hormones rush in your blood.

You don’t care. Just deliver the speech and give him what he wants. The out.

“How-“ he starts but you cut him off. He’s not in control here, you are.

“Am I? Or how far along am I?” He says nothing. “I’m okay. And I’m just over six months.” Your hand strokes your belly almost subconsciously, trying to settle the incessant kicking. He tracks you with his eyes, watching your palm move back and forth. You sigh. “Do you want to sit?” You motion to the couch, and he nods, slowly, lowering himself down next to you, posture rigid and stiff. He looks so uncomfortable, you almost laugh. “Look, Ghost-“

“Simon.” Simon. His accent is thick when he corrects you, and something tightens in your heart.

“Simon, you don’t have to do this. We don’t need anything from you. You’re off the hook.” His head snaps from the clenched fists that sit in his lap to your face. “I can do this. You don’t even have to be on the birth certificate. I have it all handled.” Lie. You’re lying to him, straight to his face, but he doesn’t know that. You don’t want him to know that you don’t have it handled. That you could be on bedrest in a matter of weeks, that you’re sick all the time and your PTSD is lingering in the back of your mind like a monster, waiting for you, watching for the moment you break so it can devour you whole.

“Who’s we?” his question snaps you out of your spiral.

“What?”

“You said ‘we don’t need anything from you’, who’s we? Is there someone else?” The words cut. They’re sharp, expectant, and he takes another look around the house. You know he’s already catalogued it, already looked for signs of another, checked to see if anything was amiss. For a moment, you’re tempted to tell him there is someone else in your life, someone else in your bed. Someone holding your hand at all the appointments, someone rubbing your back as you chuck your entire stomach into the toilet every morning.

“N-no. It’s just me and-“

“Our son.” He finishes for you, and you close your eyes again against the swell of anger.

“My son.” You snap and if possible, his body gets even more tense. Your skin crawls under the sweatshirt and you stand abruptly, desperate to put distance between the two of you. “He’s my son, my baby. You haven’t been here; you have no right to just waltz in here like nothing’s wrong or like you have some claim to him.”

“I put him in ya, Sass. He’s my kid too.” Your breath catches in your throat. His entitlement burns in your blood, and you want to lash out. You have half a mind to hit him, strike him as hard as you can in hopes that maybe he’ll get the hint and leave you alone.

“You screwed me, Ghost.” You hiss his call sign, reverting back to it, distancing yourself from the man behind the mask. “I don’t know why you’re even here. You used me, then you treated me like trash and kicked me to the curb. Don’t pretend like you care now.” He stands from the couch, fingers raking down his thighs. You take a step back immediately.

“I wronged you. I know you hate me, but we should talk about-“

“Don’t. Just, let’s not do this, okay? We’re fine without you. We’re okay on our own. You don’t have to be here.” Silence fills the air between you two, and you curl your fingers into fists before you turn on your heel and stalk into the kitchen. Your hands are shaking, and you lean against the countertop to steady yourself, head spinning when you close your eyes. Why is he doing this? The floor creaks beneath his steps, and he turns the corner into the kitchen, coming to stand in front of you. He dwarfs you, and the size difference that used to thrill you now fills you with anxiety. You were going to have to give birth to his baby, after all. His giant, 94% percentile “large for gestational age” baby, as your doctor called it. He huffs a breath, and you glance up at him, noticing the furrow of his brow, the tense lines of his muscles. He looks nervous.

“I- I’d like… I want to show you something.” Without giving you a chance to respond, he reaches for the bottom of the balaclava, peeling it up his neck before pulling free of it completely. Your brain short circuits. What, did he just… what? Your mouth drops open in shock as you stare. You can feel your heartrate increasing, and you blink in disbelief. He’s so… handsome. Handsome in a way you weren’t expecting. Not soft but, gentle in a way that surprises you. Strong nose, small scar on his cheek.

“Simon.” You whisper. He takes a hesitant step towards you, and then another when you don’t move away. He says your name, your real name. Not Sass, and you freeze where you stand. He knows your name.

“It’s on the ultrasound.” He murmurs. He’s still standing so close to you, you can smell him, can feel the heat radiating from his skin.

“Simon-“

“I’m mad for ya. Always have been. If you give me a chance, I’d-“

“Stop.” You cut him off before he can say anything else, before he can wear you down even more. “I… this… it’s complicated and… it’s late. I’m tired.” Cop out. You weren’t mentally prepared for this. You had hoped you would never have to have this conversation, you assumed you’d never see him again.

“Okay.” You breathe a sigh of relief when he relents so easily. Simon was used to executing and resulting, immediately and favorably. “I’m staying close.” Your sigh of relief catches in your chest. Fuck. “I’ll come by… tomorrow.” It’s not a request, but you’re too tired to argue.

“Okay.” You agree. You can button this up tomorrow. You can figure out what he wants and then send him on his way, get rid of him. You’re not giving into him, into whatever this is, so easily, just because he took the mask off. You can-

“Sass.” His hand is reaching towards your belly, and he’s watching you with an almost hopeful, longing expression. It’s hard to tell, because you’ve only ever been able to see his eyes. Now, the eyes that you were so used to interpreting on their own had suddenly become much more complex. “Can I?”

“Um. Uh… sure.” You’re treading into dangerous territory here, but you can’t find it in yourself to refuse him. Our son. His words from earlier echo in your mind. His palm presses to your skin, resting softly against the swell, thumb stroking into your sweatshirt. There’s a kick, a soft one, right near his hand, and you watch his face change, the mystery and wonder encompassing it sparking pesky hormone tears behind your eyes. Oh no. Don’t cry. Don’t fucking cry. You try to hold them back, but it’s useless. You’re staring at his face, his whole, unguarded, unmasked face while he feels his son kick for the first time.

It's too much. You step back.

He clears his throat.

“Right. Well, tomorrow then.”

The next fic in this series is here.

#simon ghost riley x reader #tw pregnancy #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #pregnant reader #female reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #cod mw22 fanfiction #cod fanfic #simon ghost riley x you #peaches writes #sassy series

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foone · 10 months

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So there was this psychologist who invented a type of blood pressure test, and while testing it on his wife, he noticed her blood pressure seemed to be elevated when she was angry or excited. This fact lead to a California police officer named John Augustus Larson to develop the polygraph, aka "lie detector", by combining the blood pressure test with several other measurements in an attempt to determine if the subject is lying.

This has lead the psychologist to be known as the father of the polygraph, even though he didn't directly invent it. He definitely tried to commercialize it, though including appearing in a series of ads for Gillette Razors, using the lie detector as a theme.

A few years after the invention of the polygraph, he published a book titled "Emotions of Normal People", heavily based on the original research of his life partner (as he and his wife were in a polyamorous relationship, living together for many years (including 50 years after his death!) and having two of his children). In it, he provided a defense of many sexual taboos. In it, he developed the DISC theory: dominance, inducement, submission, and compliance. He assigned active and passive to emotions and behaviors, and environments as antagonistic and favorable, and theorized how these different attitudes and environments interacted. For example, "Submission produces passivity in a favorable environment".

This was pretty much exactly as BDSMy as it sounds, with him also having theories about how the masculine drive for freedom was inherently violent, whereas women could use their "loving allure" to lead people to an ideal state of submission to loving authority.

Anyway in 1940 he was interviewed by his life partner under a pseudonym, and said that there was great potential for education in the medium of comic books. This interview got read by Max Gaines, a comics books publisher, who co-founded All-American Publications (one of the companies that later merged with National Comics Publications to form DC Comics). The psychologist was hired on as an educational consultant.

After a conversation with his wife about creating a new super hero based on fighting with love instead of fists, he took the idea to Max Gaines and was given approval to create a comic under this idea. His wife's main contribution was the idea that the hero should be a woman.

In any case, the polyamorous psychologist with a bondage kink who had formerly helped invent the lie detector went on to develop his super hero comic based on all these influences. So in 1941, under the pseudonym of Charles Moulton (combining his name of William Moulton Marston with Max Gaines' middlename), the first issue of Wonder Woman was published under the Sensation Comics line:

#William Moulton Marston #Wonder Woman #Comics

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afeelgoodblog · 1 year

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1. New Jersey Governor Declares State a 'Safe Haven' for Gender-Affirming Care

New Jersey’s Democratic governor has a message for the LGBTQ+ community. He issued an executive order on Tuesday indicating that, unlike in some Republican-controlled states, New Jersey is open and welcoming to everybody regardless of sexual orientation or gender identity. In addition, he says New Jersey is a “safe haven” for those seeking gender-affirming care.

2. Watch Ocean Cleanup remove the 200,000th kilogram of plastic from the Pacific Ocean

youtube

3. Finland becomes 31st member of NATO, doubling the alliance's border with Russia

Finland has become the 31st member of the Nato security alliance, doubling the length of member states' borders with Russia.The Finnish foreign minister handed the accession document to the US secretary of state who declared Finland a member.

Then in bright sunshine in front of Nato's gleaming new headquarters, Finland's white-and-blue flag joined a circle of 30 other flags.Finland's accession is a setback for Russia's Vladimir Putin. He had repeatedly complained of Nato's expansion before his full-scale invasion of Ukraine.

4. Captive orca Lolita set for release into 'home waters' after 50 years at Miami Seaquarium

The killer whale known as Lolita appears one step closer to returning to its natural habitat of the Pacific Northwest, after performing at a Miami tourist attraction for decades. It was taken from the ocean in 1970. But after a long-running dispute over where Lolita belongs, officials from various parties announced Thursday a "binding agreement" to take Lolita -- also known as Tokitae or Toki -- to its "home waters."

"Lolita will receive the highest quality care as the team works to make relocation possible in the next 18 to 24 months," Miami Seaquarium said in a statement Thursday.

5. Nature prescriptions shown to reduce blood pressure, depression, anxiety, and loneliness

A new study published in The Lancet Planetary Health suggests that nature prescriptions, which recommend spending time in nature, can provide both physical and mental health benefits. Patients who followed these prescriptions had reduced blood pressure, lower depression and anxiety scores, and a higher daily step count.

Research shows that contact with nature reduces harms, including those from poor air quality, heatwaves, and chronic stress, while encouraging healthy behaviours such as socialising and physical activity. This can help to prevent issues including loneliness, depression and cardiovascular disease.

6. Library Receives Flood Of Donations For Beloved Cat

The Ashville Free Library recently began a fundraiser to help pay for the aging cat’s veterinary care. After a story on Libby was published, donations to the library poured in. Director Kristina Benson called the community response overwhelming. As of Thursday, more than $2,900 had been raised.

Benson reported that Libby, the cat — who has recently been suffering from a cold — is now doing much better now that she has her medicine. Benson expects to keep the GoFundMe up until sometime next week.

7. Mother and baby reunited in Turkey nearly two months after earthquake

A mother has been reunited with her baby in southern Turkey after a DNA test confirmed it was her daughter, almost two months after the devastating earthquake, the country's family ministry said.

The three-and-a-half-month old "miracle baby", called Vetin, was pulled out of the rubble of a building in the province of Hatay more than five days after the Feb. 6 quake with no health problems.

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That's it for this week :)

This newsletter will always be free. If you liked this post you can support me with a small kofi donation:

Buy me a coffee ❤️

Also don’t forget to reblog

#best news of last week #Youtube

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exhaslo · 3 months

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Corruption Ch8

(Villain!Miguel x F!Hero!Reader)

Ch1, Ch2, Ch3, Ch4, Ch5, Ch6, Ch7

Warning: Minors DNI, smut, fingering, doctor play?? grinding, mentions of sex, violence, blood, murder, twisted thoughts, experimentation, language, wannabe fluff, established friendship?

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Three months, Eight Days until D-Day

Today was finally the moment Miguel's been waiting for. The day that got you on your nerves. Today, was the day of the health examinations. To be precise, your full body examine given by none other than Miguel.

You were currently in your office, mentally preparing yourself. You could feel your nerves getting the better of you. You had been telling yourself about this for weeks now. Not even your hardest fights got you this nervous.

Recalling your last few weeks, you let out a grunt before sitting on your chair. You hate to admit it, but you took Miguel's advice. This super hero stuff was new to you and because of it, you kept getting injured.

Slowly, but surely, you were letting the Public Eye do their job and protect the people from the small issues. You just took on the villains and other high risk problems. It felt wrong, but nothing bad was happening to anyone.

"(Y/N), it's time. Please head to the twelfth floor for your examination. Miguel has a private room for the two of you." Lyla chirped as she appeared before you, "Do you still need that relaxing sedative?"

"Um, y-yea. Lyla, does...does Miguel know what he's doing."

"Yep. I made sure he studied hard for this," She teased, appearing by your door, "Let's go before you're late."

"Yes."

--------

Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose as he waited for you to arrive. Everything he needed was set up for him by the doctors he hired. You were just a few minutes from giving him everything he wanted. Miguel was going to enjoy this.

"S-Sorry I'm late, Miguel...I-I...I'm just nervous." You said, biting your lower lip as you tried to calm down. Miguel resisted a chuckle, finding you quite amusing,

"Well, relax. We're going to start with the normal stuff. Empty your pockets and step on the scale."

"Um, don't judge me...Okay?" You huffed, taking your shoes off and getting on the scale. Miguel raised a brow as typed on his tablet,

"For what? Your weight is below average. You need to eat more."

"I said no judging."

"I'm just stating facts," Miguel said.

You needed to gain more weight if you were going to produce the perfect child. If this was about you thinking that you were fat, then Miguel was going to have to convince you otherwise. Having you sit on the chair, Miguel took your blood pressure first. After that, he went to one of the main courses-your blood.

"Remember, after we take your blood, you're going to feel really dizzy from the relaxing sedative I give you. When you come to, don't push yourself." Miguel warned as he watched your blood drip into the bag.

"I know," You muttered, "Just don't bully me too much, okay?" You asked with a huff.

Miguel just smiled towards you, more focused on your blood. He was being a little greedy and taking a whole ounce from you. This was for the sake of helping you. Miguel was going to make himself into a superior being just like you.

For the sake of his experiments.

Once the blood was drawn, Miguel gave you a minute to relax. He checked your ears, eyes and mouth before giving you the drug. Once you took it, he waited a few minutes for it to kick in. Your body soon started to slump and you wavered in place.

"How's my good girl?" Miguel whispered with a hum, lifting your chin.

"Beeeetter," You slurred, smiling sheepishly.

Miguel couldn't hold back his laughter. He had you where he wanted you. The drug included a little truth serum along with a touch of the same drug that made people high. Taking your robe off, Miguel inhaled deeply at the sight of you. Your body seemed like it was glistering. Tossing the robe aside, Miguel first grabbed your arms, stroking down to your wrists.

"(Y/n), my dear (Y/n), how did you get your powers?" Miguel asked sweetly, watching you shudder,

"Mhm, I got bit....by your radioactive spider," You cooed, leaning towards him, "Mig, be careful~"

"Why?" Miguel smirked at how woozy you were.

"I can shoot webssss~" You giggled.

Miguel raised a brow in awe as he pressed against your wrist, watching the organic webbing shoot. He gasped in awe, eyes sparkling as he did it once more. This was fantastic! You were Miguel's little toy until that drug wore off.

Miguel had exactly one hour to ask you whatever he wanted. To do whatever he wanted to you. Wanting to return to your webbing later, Miguel hummed as he continued his examination. He still had to give you something professional by the end of his.

"(Y/n), why didn't you tell me about this?" He asked softly against your ear.

"I....was afraid that I'll be your next experiment." You whimpered, leaning against Miguel's chest, "I don't want to be cut up."

Miguel felt your body tremble as his hands massaged and examined your breasts for any lumps. His head was against your shoulder, just listening to your sweet, soft whines. Cut up? Oh how wrong you were. Miguel wasn't going to kill you like the others.

He had bigger plans for you.

Miguel grunted lowly as you squirmed against him. Moving away from you as he felt something stir within him, Miguel continued with the examination. He tested your reflexes while telling himself to focus on the main task.

"Did gaining these powers affect any part of your body?" Miguel asked, propping your legs up and removing your panties.

"I can shoot webs~ and stick to walls~" You cooed, giggling lowly. Miguel glanced at you,

"When was your last period?"

"Last week~"

"Still a virgin?" Miguel typed on his tablet.

"Yep. Waiting for you~ Migueeeeeel, I love youuuuu~" You cooed, holding you arms out. Miguel placed his tablet down before washing his hands, "I love you so much!"

"I know, (Y/N). I know," Miguel hummed as he put his gloves on, "I made sure you stayed single, my dear (Y/N). No one is allowed to have you now. Not when you are so, so special."

"Ah~ M-Miguel...d-don't-"

"Shh, the doctor is working," Miguel chuckled.

He wasn't exactly lying. Miguel was performing a full body examination of every part of your body. Spreading your folds, Miguel just scoffed. You were nervous about this part. Your pussy was just dripping for his attention.

It was a shame you weren't going to remember this. Sliding his finger inside your hole, Miguel inhaled to the sounds of your whines. He was just testing for any strange lumps, but this was nice. This stirred that same feeling he tried to ignore.

"Mig~" You whimpered.

Miguel wiggled his finger around, watching you squirm and whine. This was new. A different kind of experiment. Miguel wanted to see what would make you cum. He had watched you do it yourself enough times, how hard could it be?

Inserting another finger, Miguel hovered over you as you reached out for him. His attention was towards your face as you moaned against his touch. His fingers pumping deep inside of you with each thrust. Miguel felt his chest grow heavy as he felt eager for more.

"Why'd you become a hero, (Y/N)?"

"I-I wanted, ah~ t-to save you~!" You moaned. Miguel chuckled darkly as he curled his fingers,

"Save me from what? I think you're the one who needs saving."

Miguel inhaled deeply as you cam against his gloved fingers. Your breathing heavy as you calmed down from your high. Miguel removed his fingers and threw out his gloves before returning to you. Oh how delicious this was.

"Would you do anything for me? Because you love me?"

"Yes,"

"Even be my little trophy, waiting for me to come home and test your stamina?" Miguel's smile turned wicked as he hovered over you again, his pupils blown as he gave you a crazed look, "As I take over the city as the new powered individual, while you wait at home pregnant with the future of humanity?!"

"Mhm,"

Miguel grabbed your cheeks, forcing you to look into his insane looking eyes.

"Answer me, (Y/N), will you be my good girl and do whatever I say?"

"Yes."

Miguel broke into a fit of laughter as he stepped away from you. He leaned against the wall, covering his face as his laughter turned sadistic and cruel. Oh how delicious this was. How perfect you were for him.

Nueva York's precious Spider-Woman was being tainted. Miguel was going to turn you into his personal trophy. Now that he had your blood, Miguel was going to fix himself. He was going to rule over this city with you as his little obedient wife.

"Oh, (Y/N), you drive me insane." Miguel hummed, "Is it hard to keep your secret from me?"

"Yes. Sometimes it feels like you like Spider-Woman more than me,"

Miguel raised a brow as he put your panties back on. You looked like you were about to cry. Rolling his eyes, Miguel went to put your clothes back on.

"Before I knew it was you, I did find Spider-Woman more interesting; however, you were always in my line of interest," Miguel sighed, knowing damn well you weren't going to remember this, "But you were always mine."

"Miggy," You whined.

Miguel felt a shiver run down his spine as you called him that. Grunting lowly, Miguel set up his work and grabbed your wrist. He cussed lowly and had you sit on his lap, your chest against his chest so that he could work.

"Miggy~"

"Stop talking, (Y/N), I need to take notes of everything," Miguel grumbled as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

"I like this~ So warm~ I love you~"

Miguel grunted once more, finding it hard to concentrate. You were squirming against his lap, breathing softly against his ear. That eerie feeling in his chest return as he felt the urge to do something he had never thought of before.

"Miggy~"

"¡Maldita sea, no puedo follarte hasta que sea como tú! (Dammit, I can't fuck you until I become like you!)" He cussed out in Spanish, which was rare and only when he was really frustrated.

Realizing what he just admitted, Miguel cussed lowly once more. You were really testing him. Miguel had to behave. He couldn't risk his plan by giving in now. Shit, just the thought seemed so ridiculous. This was going to be Miguel's secret.

He was never going to let you know about this weakness in him. No one was going to ever know about this.

"I'm sorry, Miguel," You whispered, apologizing against his ear.

Miguel lazily glanced at you, wondering if you could ease his harden erection. It would be taking advantage of you for sure, but you would still do it. Wrapping his arms around your waist, Miguel just decided to grind his erection against your cunt.

"Miggy~"

"(Y/n), my little stress reliever," Miguel hummed as he took his dick out, rubbing it directly against your panties, "Who is your toughest villain?"

"Ah~ Uh, mhm~"

Miguel chuckled as you shook against his body, moving your hips against his. Your panties getting wetter as Miguel pressed himself against you more.

"D-Doc...O-Ock was ah~ h-hard...H-He hurt me, mhm~ r-really bad, but...you took care of me~" You moaned. Miguel grunted lowly as he felt your body shake from cumming again,

"Wrong answer," He muttered, groaning as he coated your panties white, "It's me."

Finally feeling some relief, Miguel cleaned himself up then you. He didn't want to hear any questions or concerns from you. Placing you back against his lap, Miguel continued to do his work on the computer.

--------

You whimpered lowly, feeling yourself come back to your senses. As you started to waver back into realty, you noticed that you were still in the doctor's office. Resting your head, you groaned softly as you tried to remember what happened.

Everything was a blur.

Turning your head to the side, you saw Miguel working intensely on something. His face just inches away from yours. Sinking that in, you gasped and went to jolt back, but Miguel grabbed you. He pulled you back into his lap, grunting angerily,

"Don't move. I'm focused," He spat.

"Miguel? Why am I-"

"Shh," He hissed.

You kept quiet, still feeling a bit woozy from the drug. Your body felt heavy and your vison was spinning. Relaxing against Miguel, you hummed quietly, enjoying this moment. You felt your eye lids slowly close.

"Tch, it's as if they know I'll kill him." Miguel hissed harshly. You nuzzled into him, whimpering softly,

"Hm?"

"Someone's getting comfortable. Did you forget that I'm your boss?" Miguel huffed, leaning back and glancing towards you.

"Mhm, you said....not to move," You whispered. Miguel's hand rested against your head, sending a shiver down your spine,

"Because you're reacting poorly to the drug. I didn't expect your body to be so sensitive," Miguel hummed, smirking, "But, since you were such a good girl for me, I'll treat you to dinner. We have to get your blood cells pumping."

"I'd like that,"

Your smile grew wide as you stayed in Miguel's lap for a while longer. This was nice. Maybe, just maybe, you could try and ask him out for a proper date. With how Miguel has been lately, there might be a slither of a chance he says yes.

"Oh, and (Y/N)?"

"Yes, Miguel?"

"If you call me Miggy again, I'll have to punish you." Miguel said firmly.

Your face turned bright red as you apologized and buried your face into his shoulder. You had only called him that in your wet dreams. Now you were worried about what else you said while you were drugged. Hopefully nothing more than just the little nickname you called him.

--------

Miguel kept you on his lap for another hour or so. He quite enjoyed the thought of having the city's favorite super hero on his lap. It won't be long until he joined the game and turned this city into his playground.

A villain's playground.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Next Chapter

(Going on a short break, gotta finish Persona 3 Reload in time for Final Fantasy 7 Rebirth!)

@tojishugetiddies @miguelsfavwife @foulsharkheart @club-danger-zone @ivkygirly @jollystrawberrycycle @amber-content @weirdothatwritess @smartyren @mangoslushcrush @nyxzoldyck6 @migueloharastruelove @chaoticlovingdreamer @sukioyakio @killjoy-nightshadow @heyohalie @the-pan-liquid @bokutosprettylittlebimbo @kpopscoups17130000 @pochapo @killerwendigo @barbiecrocs @miss-galaxy-turtle @oscarissac2099 @lazy-idate @lauraolar14 @migueloharacumslut @straw-berry-ghoul @daisy-artfield @sukunash0e @undf-stuff @iamperson12280 @nightingale1011 @reader-1290 @mcmiracles @keepghostly @marlyharper

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara smut #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #miguel x you #miguel x reader #spiderman miguel #miguel ohara #miguel x y/n

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rd0265667 · 2 months

Text

Kazuha x Reader: Yellow Ribbon

Permanent Taglist: @cwpiqwon @justme-idle

I know I haven’t been posting much(I’ve been busy unfortunately), but y’all know I had to give y’all smth for Valentine’s Day

Around her head, she wore a yellow ribbon

She wore it in the spring time in the early month of May

"Miss, we've got to go!" Kazuha heard her manager shout from outside her room.

"In a minute!" Kazuha shouted, still frantically rummaging around her room.

Worried, Kazuha's manager walked to her room, peeking in to check on her, seeing Kazuha half under her bed, moving boxes around

"Miss, with all due respect, it took Miss Chaewon 3 months to get a reservation at this restaurant, if we're late, she will skin us alive." Kazuha's manager threw her hands up in desperation, finally seeing Kazuha stand up, a yellow ribbon in her hand.

Tying it into a bow around her head, she looked into the mirror, a smile as she forlornly ran her hand across the ribbon.

"Oh, it was the ribbon. Why do you even wear it?" She asked, Yunjin standing behind them, smiling. The manager was new, she had to be, anyone who knew Kazuha long enough knew why.

and if you ask her why the heck she wore it

Five Years ago

Kazuha crashed onto the ground with a thud, a mad dash for a frisbee resulting in a rough collision, causing Kazuha and her opponent to crash onto the ground.

"Kazuha!" She could hear her teacher shout out, but she couldn't get up, a rough stinging on her forehead causing her to wince, a crimson red flowing down her forehead.

Kazuha saw her teacher for but a moment, before her teacher vanished from her view, a loud thud next to her. Even through the stinging pain on her forehead, Kazuha chuckled at the sight, the person supposed to take care of her was felled next to her by her fear of blood.

"Move aside! I'm first aid trained!" Kazuha heard an authoritative voice shout out from the side, an unfamiliar voice, one belonging to a rather quiet and unassuming classmate of hers.

"Go to the gym, there's a first aid kid there, and you, go to the office and tell them a student is injured and a teacher fainted. Go now!" You shouted out, pointing directions as feckless classmates nodded mindlessly, needing another prod before running to their destination, some attending to the fainted teacher.

Kneeling next to Kazuha, you slid a hand behind her back, supporting her upper body up, grabbing a bag for Kazuha to lean on.

"Miss, are you alright? Can you tell me what time it is, where we are, and who you are?" You asked, body leaning slightly to the left as you pulled out your first aid dressing from your bag.

"It's afternoon, we're at the field, I'm Kazuha." Kazuha replied, causing you to nod and prepare the first aid dressing.

"This might hurt a little." You said, pressing the dressing on her wound, wrapping it around Kazuha's head.

Kazuha winced at the pain, but gritted her teeth, taking a deep breath.

"Shit" Kazuha could hear you mutter under your voice, causing her to immediately look at you in worry, fearing some complication had occured.

"Why? What's wrong?" Kazuha's voice slightly trembled in fear

"No, it's nothing, just the wrapping is giving me some issues, could you hold it for a little?"

You quickly beckoned Kazuha to place her hand on the bandage, applying pressure to her wound as you rummaged through your bag, pulling out a yellow ribbon.

"This will only take a minute" You reassured Kazuha, Kazuha smiling despite the pain as she admired the focus on your face

Taking the ribbon, you used it to hold the bandage in place, wrapping the ribbon around her head.

"There, all better now." You asked, confused at Kazuha's rather goofy grin

"I'm fine, thanks to you." Kazuha replied as she continued to stare at you

"That's good. When the teachers come, just tell them the bandage was applied at 1321, I'll be going now." Seeing your job done, you quickly tried to slip back into your quiet recluse, but Kazuha, even in her pained state, wouldn't let them happen, this new side of you was one not many had seen before, and she didn't want to let it go.

"Wait, don't go!" Kazuha shouted out, causing you to turn around at a rapid speed.

"What's wrong, are you alright?" You sprinted to her, dropping your bag as you cupped her head with your hand, checking the area of the wound.

Immediately, Kazuha's cheek lit up in embarrassment, making the blood spilled earlier seem pale by comparison.

"No, no, I just wanted to thank you for helping me. If you don't mind, can I get your number? I'd love to get dinner with you soon." Kazuha asked, causing you to freeze.

"Oh, umm, sure!" Taken aback, you began to stutter, but you quickly told Kazuha your number

"And my name i-" You began to say, but Kazuha quickly cut you off.

"Y/N. It's a cute name" Kazuha said with a smile, causing you to blush in turn.

Seeing Kazuha enter your number, you smiled, before you decided to take a step, grabbing your bag, putting it next to Kazuha, before plopping down next to her.

"Your head must hurt, wanna let it rest?" You offer, petting your shoulder, an offer Kazuha took with little hesitation.

She wore it for the soldier who was far far away

Two Years ago

"Zuha, I've gotta go." You whispered, lightly chuckling as you felt her head shake fervently against your chest.

"No you don't, you liar." She mumbled as you lightly sighed, running your hand through her hair in an attempt to calm her down.

"Zuha, it's a conscription army, besides, it's my country, if I can serve it, I should." You tried to explain, causing Kazuha to bolt up from your chest, tears welling in her eyes.

"But you could have been a clerk, or an admin personnel. Hell, you could have been a tank operator and I would be less worried. Why'd they have to put my baby as a paratrooper, it's so dangerous, you jump out of helicopters and have to fight the enemy with no backup and-and....I don't want to lose you." Kazuha could barely finish her sentence, feeling her melt into you as you almost break, thinking, consequences be damned, you had to stay and take care of her. But you had a duty.

"I'm going to be fine zuha, don't you know my secret?" You say, as Kazuha hiccuped, wiping her tears as she looked to you in curiosity.

"I love you so much that I won't do anything without your permission, not even die." You whisper, leaving a light kiss on her forehead, causing her to chuckle a little.

"Then get ready to stay immortal you idiot." She mumbled, nuzzling her head into your neck

"For you my love, anything." You say, pulling her in closer.

"Y/N, we're gonna be late!" You heard your older sister shout from outside

"Be there in a minute Rach!" You shout out, Kazuha begrudgingly getting up, you move to put your beret on.

"Oh yeah, while I'm away, Zuha, could you make sure Rachel takes care of herself, and attends her damn appointments. God knows she hates attending them." You bemuse, grabbing your assault bag

"Of course, how close is she already by the way? 2 more months right?" Kazuha asked, as you nodded.

"Guess who wouldn't know that? Fucking Raph" You spat with malice as Kazuha sighed, growing accustomed to your rants regarding Rachel's less than responsible "boyfriend"

"Rachel's a grown woman, she can handle her relationships alright? and if shit hits the fan, you'll be licensed to kill won't you?" Kazuha said, causing you to chuckle.

Kazuha's mood was more or less snuffed out by Rachel rushing you again, reminding her of your imminent departure.

"It's just 2 weeks of confinement to get me accustomed to army life Zuha, i'll be out in no time." You reassured, Kazuha mustering up her best smile, nodding as she leaned in to leave a light kiss on your cheek.

"Meanwhile, take care alright? I know training at HYBE's been hard, don't over exert yourself, and if anything goes wrong, tell Sakura alright?" You said, Kazuha nodding, rushing into you for a hug.

"Before you go, give it a kiss, it's good luck." Kazuha said, causing you to smile.

Kazuha bowed a little, making the yellow ribbon accessible to you, allowing you to give it a little kiss.

"I'll be back in no time alright?"

1 Year and 10 months ago

You ran like a mad dog out of hell down the white corridor, a speed you had never even achieved when you had GPMGs fired at you, or assault rifles aimed at you. It had taken you so damn long to even get out of the damn base, regimentation and chain of commands slowing your desperate need to leave.

Your run comes to an abrupt halt as you see Kazuha on the ground, head buried between her shoulders as her shoulders heaved up and down, causing your eyes to widen, falling next to Kazuha as the two of you shared a glance, understanding what had happened.

After the two of you sobbed on the hospital ground, Kazuha turned to you, trying to compose herself.

"Rachel had a request." Kazuha said with a quivering voice.

Still unable to come to grasps with your sister's passing, you tried your hardest to calm down, but to no avail.

"Baby, this was important to Rachel. She wants us to raise Cheryl as our own, give her a normal childhood, and only tell her the truth when she's old enough to take it well."

Hearing that, you looked up, eye swollen as you looked to Kazuha, the both of you getting up, seeing a doctor carry a small child in his hand.

"I'm sorry for your loss, but I believe Miss L/N declared the two of you as her legal guardians now." The doctor said, handing the small child to you.

Holding the little child in your arms, you looked at her, feeling a small spark of joy despite what you had lost.

"I'll do it Zuha. For Rachel." You mutter, hoping your sister would be a little more at peace.

Around the block, she pushed a baby carriage

She pushed it in the spring time in the early month of May

"Miss, you know that we can get any of our staff to help push the stroller. This is too risky! If dispatch or any random netizen takes a picture of this, the forums will go insane" Kazuha's manager showed her inexperience once again, unaware of her ward's obstinance to certain activities, never bending over decisions. Like being given leave to spend time with you whenever you were not activated for a mission or guarding the bases as long as they weren't in the middle of an active comeback, and that at least 4 times a week, Kazuha was allowed to bring Cheryl down for some mother-daughter time.

"You're happy today." Kazuha comment as she looks down at Cheryl, whose little hands kept clapping, a small smile on her face.

"You know they're coming back today too, don't you?" Kazuha asked as she stopped, kneeling next to Cheryl who began to giggle.

"Yeh, I miss Y/N too." Kazuha said, gently kneading Cheryl's cheek, smiling and bursting with excitement.

And if you ask her why the heck she pushed it

She pushed it for the soldier who was far far away

Standing at the ferry terminal, Kazuha hummed in anticipation, rocking her stroller back and forth at a gentle pace, allowing Cheryl to rest.

Seeing the ferry dock, Kazuha's anticipation rose, looking around expectantly, pupils dilating the moment she saw that familiar beret on the head of the person she loved.

You ran up to her, throwing Kazuha into an embrace, giving her a light kiss on the cheek before kneeling down.

"Did you miss me Cheryl? You did didn't you? Of course you did." You played around with Cheryl as Kazuha looked at the two of you, smiling as she knew how rare this was for the two of you, hard to spend some parent-daughter time together.

"Hey Mrs L/N!" Kazuha looked up, seeing Y/N's close friend, Lucas, a smile on his face as per usual, his cheerful energy always infectious.

"Hey Lucas, how's it been going?" Kazuha asked as Lucas shrugged.

"The usual, y'know, but I swear Y/N being a lieutenant now is messing with our dynamic." Lucas joked around, causing you to turn around with shock.

"Hey! It's not my fault that you have to salute me now. It is what it is man." You playfully jab at Lucas, who rolled his eyes, diverting his attention to Cheryl.

"I swear, Lucas is going to be that eccentric uncle in the future." You mutter to Kazuha, who chuckled at the banter between the two of you.

As the two of you began to wrestle, Kazuha sighed, whispering to Cheryl, "Your parents have weird friends."

"Alright alright, knock it off you two, we have some family time to get to."

Lucas nodded, waving as the two of you returned to the car, sharing kisses, hugs, giggles, and any stories under the sun.

"I'm starting to think being in the army has messed up your fashion sense." Kazuha scrunched her nose, causing you to pout as she giggled, going back to the mirror, adjusting the object of affection.

"Honestly Kazuha, you know I'll be okay if you take it off right? Doesn't it get annoying to always have to wear it?" You asked, much to Kazuha's dismay

"I wear it because my baby spends more time in the army camp than with me, so to remind myself of that baby, I wear it everywhere." Kazuha said defiantly, chest puffed out causing you to chuckle, folding immediately. It was funny the effect Kazuha had on you. You had the nerves to stare down enemies wielding guns while armed with nothing but a dagger and an indomitable spirit, but Kazuha would make you break instantly.

"How do I look?" Kazuha asked, and once again, you feel like a deer in headlights.

Kazuha had on a white satin dress, a rather simple outfit, but she wore it like a luxury gown.

"That good huh?" Kazuha joked as you mindlessly nodded, causing her to chuckle.

"Let's go, the Chauffeur is waiting for us. Eunchae already helped to bring Cheryl down." Kazuha said

"Are you sure that's safe, I'm pretty sure Eunchae still isn't happy that she's not the baby of the group anymore." You joked, Kazuha laughing as she recalled how they all laughed as Eunchae started beef with a 2 year old, acting more like Cheryl's sister than her aunt.

"She'll be fine." Kazuha chuckled, looping her hand around your arm, following you to the car

"It sucks we can't eat out like normal people you know?" You comment as you look around at the empty restaurant, a necessary measure to protect Kazuha and her group from any unwanted media attention.

"Are you seriously telling me you prefer the slop they give you in the army to this?" Kazuha furrowed her eyebrows, causing you to shake your head.

"No, no, it's just... I barely spend any time with Cheryl, and the few times we do, I just wish we could be like a normal family y'know, complain about the long queues for a restaurant but still not leave, have to push and shove through the zoo as hordes of families rush to see the lions. I just wish I could spend more time with you and this one." You mutter, leaning down to lightly pat Cheryl's head, Kazuha nodding as she shared your sentiment.

"But you're here now, and that's all that matters. Let's just enjoy this dinner alright?" Kazuha said, and you nodded in agreement.

The dinner went well, long periods of time away from each other always left the two of you with oceans upon oceans of things to talk about. Even if you didn't fully understand what a plie was, and Kazuha didn't understand what Fire movement was, it didn't matter. The two of you simply enjoyed each others company, and that was enough. Well, it was enough, until your phone let out a chime, not something either of you wanted to hear.

Quickly grabbing your phone, you picked up the phone.

"Sir. Now? Yes, I understand. I'll send you my live location, send the chopper in at 1943. Yes Sir, there's a helipad here. I'll meet you at the rooftop Sir. Yes Sir. Hailstorm, over and out." You quickly replied, Kazuha's face sinking.

"You've gotta go?" Kazuha asked, causing you to wearily nod.

"I'm so sorry baby, I promise I'll make it up to you and Cheryl some time soon." You hurriedly said, texting Lucas to grab the necessary gear before the helicopter got to his place

"It's alright, just come back safe and sound, alright?" Kazuha said, running to hug you.

"Of course, I don't have your permission to die yet, do I?" Kazuha shook her head with a veritable ferocity, causing you to chuckle, leaving her a kiss on the forehead, then a light kiss on the yellow ribbon.

"For good luck." Kazuha whispered, mustering a smile, to which you nodded.

Squatting down, you patted Cheryl on the head, whispering, "Sorry Little one, I'll be back as soon as I can alright?"

Cheryl seemed to know what was going on, already breaking into a cry that broke your heart, as you shared a pained look with Kazuha, before looking to your watch.

1942.

Kazuha knew what time it was, and as much as she didn't want you to go either, she knew there was no other alternative.

"Go, stay safe. I love you." She whispered, leaving you a light peck on the lips, as you reciprocated, shutting your eyes in pain as Cheryl's cries still reverberated through the room, but you had to go, and you forced yourself away, tearing your hands away from Cheryl's, before rushing to the rooftop.

Picking Cheryl up from her highchair, Kazuha began bouncing her a little, saying, "Don't worry alright? They always come back."

"Sir, please, this is private property, we cannot allow you in no matter how urgent the incident is." Kazuha stirred from her slumber on the couch, hearing her manager talking to someone at the door.

"This is urgent, I'm friends with Miss Kazuha, I need to talk to her."

Recognising that voice to belong to Lucas, Kazuha sat up.

"Let him in, he's my friend." Kazuha said, to which the manager nodded, Lucas entering the dorm, a set of items in hand.

"What's the matter Lucas? Where's Y/N? I thought he would come back with you." Kazuha commented, rubbing her eyes as she tried to shake out of slumber.

"Kazuha...I..." Lucas could barely get the next words out of his mouth.

Now fully awake, Kazuha looked at the items in Lucas' hands. A familiar uniform, A familiar beret, A familiar baton. A familiar name.

"No." Kazuha could barely whisper out, as Lucas shut his eyes as tight as he could, willing his tears to stay in.

"On 090524, 0312, Lieutenant Y/N led the infiltration of a rural hospital that had been overtaken by insurgents. The insurgents were taken down, the hostages were saved, but in the firefight...Lieutenant Y/N put themself between flurry of bullets and a room of scared children. Lieutenant Y/N was a hero, who saved the many innocent lives through their years of service. We give thanks to their bravery." Lucas said, Kazuha still stuck in shock.

"No. No. This can't be." Kazuha crumpled to the ground, sobbing as Yunjin and Sakura ran out of their rooms, hearing the commotion. Seeing Lucas, paired with the items in his hands, they understood what had had happened too, running to console Kazuha.

Tears began to flow down Lucas' face too, placing the items on the ground before sitting next to Kazuha.

"I'm sorry Kazuha, but there was nothing that could have been done. Y/N went out as they lived, protecting the innocent." Lucas tried to reassure Kazuha, and so did Yunjin and Sakura, but their voices were all blocked out. Kazuha could only feel herself get engulfed by a deafening silence, only remembering one thing.

You promised that you'd come back safe.

You promised...

A week later

Treading across the grass, Kazuha found her way to you. She could always find her way to you.

"Hey baby." She whispered, running her hand across your headstone.

She sat down next to the headstone, beginning to talk to you, just like old times, she thought to herself.

Back at the car, the 4 other members looked on in worry.

"How many days have it been already?" Eunchae asked worriedly

"3 days. She only leaves to feed Cheryl. She hasn't even eaten yet." Chaewon sighed, Sakura and Yunjin sharing worried glances.

"Aren't we going to do something?" Eunchae asked, fist clenching as the worry begins to almost bubble over.

"What can we do? Y/N was...close to everything to Zuha." Yunjin chimed in, the girls silently agreeing, all looking back to the distraught girl.

As Kazuha laid upon the headstone, she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm not leaving Yunjin. I've told you a million times. I'm not leaving." Kazuha said coldly, not bothering to turn around.

"But you have to, Zuha."

Kazuha turned around in shock. This had to be a trick. How could...

"Baby?" Kazuha asked with a shaky voice.

"Please, take care of yourself Kazuha. Please. It breaks my heart to see you like this." Kazuha heard you whisper, causing her to lash out in anger.

"NO! You don't get to tell me what to do! You're a liar! You broke your promise! To me! To Cheryl! How could you do this to us?" Kazuha shouted out, before breaking down into tears, feeling your hand on her cheek.

"I'm sorry Zuha, you know that given a choice, I would always choose you, but...I didn't have a choice. I'm sorry.” Kazuha heard your voice like a whisper in the wind, the words echoing in Kazuha’s head.

“What do I do now? I don’t want to go on without you, I can’t…” Kazuha fell to the ground, leaning upon your headstone, burying her head in her hands.

“But you’ll never be without me, my dearest Zuha, even in death, I’ll always be with you.” Kazuha heard you whisper to her, a sudden gust of wind blowing upon her back, the yellow ribbon around her head flying off her head, floating to her hand.

“And I’ll always be with you too.” Kazuha whispered, pulling a pair of scissors from her bag.

She quickly cut the yellow ribbon in half, braiding one half of it into her hair, then gently placing the other half around the headstone.

“There, now I’ll always be with you, and you’ll always be with me.” Kazuha whispered, running her hand down the braid, seeing you smile.

“You know I’m not actually here, right Zuha?” You ask, Kazuha cracking a small smile.

“I do. But if you were here, this is exactly what you’d do. Because it’s what you always did. Pull me out of the depths of despair like an angel sent from heaven. You wouldn’t want me to waste away on your grave.” Kazuha smiled, leaning her head upon her headstone.

“I love you, Nakamura Kazuha.” Kazuha heard you say, causing her to smile, tears lightly dripping down her face, as she turned away from you, turning instead to the ribbon around your headstone.

“I love you too, L/N Y/N.” Kazuha whispered, kissing the ribbon tenderly, before turning to see you gone, without a trace.

Kazuha smiled, looking lovingly at your picture on your headstone, before dusting herself off, walking towards the van.

Seeing Kazuha walk into the van, the 4 girls looked at each other in shock. But before they could say anything, they noticed something missing.

“Kazuha, where’s the ribbon?” Chaewon asked, surprised to see her without her trademark ribbon.

“I left it on the grave.” Kazuha simply said, reaching for her seatbelt.

“What—, why?” Yunjin inquired, noting the remnants of the yellow ribbon in her braid

“For Y/N.”

Upon the grave, she placed a yellow ribbon

She placed it in the spring time in the early month of May

And if you ask her why the heck she placed it

She placed it for her soldier, the one who went away

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