#x sick child reader

[hyperfixatedoncrimminalminds]

Hi I hope your doing okay!

I was hoping to request one with Aaron Hotchner’s daughter, she’s about 3-4 and she’s autistic, Aaron took her to work because she’s sick one day

Aaron Hotchner X Autistic Daughter Reader

I was hoping to request one with Aaron Hotchner's daughter, she's about 3-4 and she's autistic, Aaron took her to work because she's sick one day

I love this idea

Third person pov...

After two weeks of being away on a case Hotch is happy to be in his own bed in his home knowing his children are safe and only a few doors down from him instead of being in another state.

Currently it was 4:30am, Hotches alarm wouldn't go off for another hour and a half. The man was dead asleep under his covers, then his doors opens slightly and in pops a little H/C head.

It was Y/N Hotches daughter, the 3 year old sniffles slightly before walking into the dark room, she hugs her stuffed bunny tighter as she walks in.

She looks at the bed and walks over silently, once she got closer to the figure she shook her daddy's shoulder, Hotch didn't wake up, sniffling again the little girl shook his shoulder harder.

"Daddy" she whispers into his ear as she shook his shoulder, this makes the man wake up he opens his eye, still half asleep before realising who it was.

"N/N, what's going on?" He questions the little girl sitting up in his bed, he looks over at the time and sighs sleepily only 4.30, he then picks the toddler up and tucks her next to him under the covers.

The girl sniffles again whiping her nose on the back of her hand. Big watery E/C eyes look into his. "Don' feel well" sniffles the little girl before coughing loud and hard.

Hotch pats her back and uses the back of his hand to feel her forehead, after a couple seconds he pulls it back. "Your burning up Honey, how do you feel?" He asks picking the little girl up into his arms.

Y/N wraps her arms around his neck, the man turns around to wlak out the door but Y/N wriggles around. "Bun bun" she whispers in a horse voice, Hotch turns around laying forgotten was Bun Bun Y/Ns special bunny.

The man bend down and picks the toy up and gives Y/N it. "Oh no we cant forget Bun Bun can we" he says as the two go downstairs.

As they walk Y/N tells her dad how she feels "achy Daddy" she says and points to her throat, Nose and coughs again makong Hotch pat her back.

Hotch leaves Y/N on the couch before going to the Bathroom and to the medicine cabinet, he then grabs some paracetamol and a glass of water for the girl.

"Here sweetie" he says and hands them to her, Y/N, shakes her head at the tablets. Even though he crushes them up she still hates taking them, Hotch then moves the little girl to his lap and holds the tablets for her to have.

Once the toddler had taken them and had managed to fall asleep again, Hotch was stuck he couldn't move as Y/N was laying on him and he finally got her to sleep, so the man stild and let her sleep.

Hour 30 minutes later...

Hotch was tired, but hadn't fallen back to sleep incase Y/N needed him. Checking his watch the man saw the time. "6.00am got to wake up Jack" he mutters before gently moving his daughter and walking upstairs he had to get ready for work.

Once he was ready qnd Jack was ready for school, Hotch had to think of what to do with Y/N, she couldn't be alone but he couldn't take a day off work.

Walking into the living room he had an idea, probably not the best idea but it should work, he then gently woke Y/N up.

"How are you feeling sweetheart?" He asks the toddler, Y/N rubs her eyes tiredly as she sits up on the sofa. "Lil' better Daddy" she said voice quiet, Hotch smiles and strokes her flushes face still radiating heat.

"I'm glad then, your coming to work with me today okay Baby" he explains to the toddler, she may be 3 but it pretty smart.

Once Y/N was dressed and wrapped in a warm blanket and had all her things Hotch grabbed his briefcase and got both kids into the car.

First they dropped Jack of at school, then they drove to the FBI headquarters, As Hotch walks in with his sick daughter he of coruse got many looks sent his way by other agents he was happy to get to the elevator.

"Now sweetie you can say hi to the team and I will set you up in my office if you need anything call me okay" Says Hotch to Y/N the toddler smiles and nods her head.

The father and daughter walk into the bullpen, the team were standing around waiting for Bossman to arrive. Derek spots the man first.

"Hey Hotch, we were wondering where you where man" he said walking over the team following, Hotch smiled at them in apologe.

"Sorry guys, was alte dropping Jack off" he said as the girls get excited at seeing little Y/N with Hotch. Y/N curls into her Dads arms more.

Derek takes a good look at his bosses face. "You look like shit mate, did you get any sleep?" He asks getting a nudge in the side by Penelope who nodded over at Y/N.

Derek gives a guilty look he forgot about her, the team all turn to look at their boss, Derek was right Hotch had large bags under his eyes, his tie was wonky and his shoulders slouched.

He looks down at Y/N and wraps the blanket around her more. "This one woke me up at 4.30, has a cold haven't slept since. Then was late dropping Jack off" he explains, JJ gives him a knowing look.

The others are shocked. "4.30!" Exclaimed Emily and Derek mouths open in shock. "Now then I have to get Y/N sorted in my office to back go work" Says Hotch back in Boss mode.

The team watch as the tired man walk up the ramp towards his office, once he was inside he put Y/N on the floor and set the blanket up on the sofa infront of his office and all her toys on the floor so she wouldn't get bored.

"Here you go sweetie" he says and sets the ill toddler on the mountain of blankets and gives her a cup of water, he will make sure she drinks lots of fluids throughout the day.

"Thanks' Daddy" Says the toddler making Hotch smile.

The end!

Hope you liked this oneshot ! Sorry for grammar and Spelling mistakes.

Request are open!

Word count: 1142

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

obsessed with the idea of seelie faerie prince gojou, as charming and as tricksy as all fae are. his snow-white hair eye catching and his azure eyes like gems pressed into his flesh

seelie prince satoru whose very birth shook faerieland as foretold by the stars red, blue and purple stars that soared through the sky the night of his birth

seelie prince satoru who is much more observant than his penchant for revels and merrymaking belies

seelie prince satoru who relishes in obnoxiously getting under the skin of the gentry of his court with his radical ideas that challenge the traditions that have been established for centuries

seelie prince satoru whose court is filled with political strife between three major families- the gojou, zenin and kamo. and it's really just his look this particular luck that he's bleeding out after a particularly harrowing attempt on his life. must have been that petty bastard naoya but in this particular moment, numb from poison and with a bloodied torso it really isn't going to do him any good trying to figure out who sent the now dead assassin after him

he won't die from this, he's been developing an immunity to poison. but even so, this is tough on his body as he sits in a misty forest waiting for the poison to wear off on his body with the scent of iron strong in the air

that's when he sees something that any faerie would consider the worst omen ー he sees you.

faeries are immortal folk. unless someone goes out of their way to kill them, they never die. it's what makes them stronger, far further creatures than humans with their insect-length lifespans

seelie prince satoru who even with his eyes, it's difficult seeing you clearly with poison muddling his senses but he sees the tell-tell white hair and gray skin and he knows you're a banshee

seelie prince satoru who chuckles humorlessly as he accepts that apparently, his luck has run out

he's sure of this as you slowly come closer and closer until he sees you much more clearly. your eyes are bloodshot, as to be expected of your kind. but your eyes might be the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. they're a pale lilac and your pupils are a ghostly white, shockingly light against the reds of your eyes but even that looks beautiful. he never cared particularly for the color red before but in this moment he can understand why red caps crave the color so and satoru thinks that if he is going to hear those damning cries that will seal his fate in this instant, he's glad it's you

banshees were human women that died in grief, right? that died tragedy before the grace of the gods turned them fae. death is a beautiful look on you but he wonders what you'd look if you were still colored in the shades of life that once blossomed over you like spring blooms

and so you part your lips... but rather than wail and scream, announcing to the headless riders of faerie that death is near, death is coming for gojou satoru your eyebrows knit in worry and you ask

"are you alright?" as you kneel by his side, reaching for his wounds carefully. your voice is honestly akin to hearing birdsong in the night, a juxtaposition he wasn't prepared for. "here, let me help you"

apparently the seelie prince's luck is greater still. death won't come for him yet. instead, he's become a hypocrite. an unintelligent hypocrite but he can't quite seem to make himself care in this instance when he is tended to by your cold but gentle touch and your lark-like voice drips like honey from your lips.

whether it's folk or mortal, satoru likens love to a curse that makes those around him stupid. a curse that leads to betrayals, war and frankly too much strife he desires to deal with

yet in this moment, that very curse seemed to course through his veins

stupid is as stupid does, seelie prince satoru's lips part and he asks you as if enraptured in a spell "please marry me and i'll love you more faithfully than any man, fae or otherwise"

as for you... you're simply a banshee who just happened to be in this forest when you spotted an injured elf in the distance and decided to see if he'd accept your help if he didn't outright lose his mind in fear at the sight of you. you think he might have considering the words that left his mouth

it must be the blood loss talking

unfortunately for you and much to the aggravation of suguru and kento, seelie prince satoru's most trusted advisors, satoru was very much serious and fervently keeps referring to you as his future queen when you haven't even accepted the proposal

seelie prince satoru who insists you stay in his palace, at the very least until after a revel in a few moons time he wishes to throw in your honor. as thanks for treating his injuries which are still healing, might he add. anything could happen, what if a banshee needs to herald his death and one isn't around? he would also like the time to woo you over. please? just until then

seelie prince satoru who ignores the ardent whispers that it is bad luck for a banshee to be so close the prince. that insist that death fae are like roaches. surely if one appears, there will be more banshee and dullahan that follow

seelie prince satoru who coldly states that any such insult toward the woman who saved his life will find those who said them hearing the chilling cries they so fear sooner than they'd enjoy

[assmaster-8000]

no because what if gojo satoru had found another special grade child. a child whom the jujutsu higher-ups wanted satoru to mentor because they'd be a useful trump card to the jujutsu society so naturally they'd want this child's talent to be honed till they potentially surpass satoru and be used. but satoru had seen too much of what this world had done to the person he'd love the most and he wouldn't ever be the one to subject another person to it like a tool. like a weapon. like a machine. so of course he takes them under his wing and gives them the guidance he never had, suguru never had. a 20 year old prodigy fresh with wounds of loss and grief taking in a child with greatness sitting on their head like a heavy crown cutting into their skin underneath his cape of power and blood stains. satoru is an enigma and even he himself doesn't know if it's because he wants to mold more strong jujutsu sorcerers who will change this world (because what greater irony than the child you wanted to utilize like a cold knife being the one to bring reform right to your door?), or if he wants to give them everything everyone else didn't have (please, he can't have someone follow in suguru's footsteps.), or if being number 1 was too tiring for him (but he doesn't know if it's selfish bringing them up to this blinding spotlight.)

years pass and he vehemently denies the higher ups control over his protégé, his student, his brat. he'll give them control and the means to break out of the shackles of this damned hierarchy. and even if satoru cannot outwardly say it, they're his child. as though he was there at their birth and has been ever since. his child and his best friend and he's their father and their best friend. it's either he sees too much of himself in them or too much of suguru because they're rising to the top fast and he's proud of them and so full of dangerous hope their wings aren't made of wax. (but he'll be there to catch them if they'll ever fall, of course!) they're so strong now. if he was blessed by the heavens and the earth then perhaps they were born of it because look at them go! giving the great gojo satoru a run for his money! not everyone can do that, you know? they're such a great student and person! isn't he such a great mentor?!

so he decides to have faith in them. bring them along with him to shibuya to deal with those reports of special grade curses he was being told about. this is how your teacher deals with these curses! better watch closely because you'll probably have to do it too! he has them positioned on the sidelines to ensure the civilians aren't hurt and if anything, to aid him because they're gonna be the strongest some day too so they can't be lazing a round on their ass all the time.

and they're doing so well until kenjaku comes along. satoru's breath stops and his heart rattles against the prison bars of his ribcage but it isn't the stupor of seeing his lost love that doomed him to the box. his special grade student lurches to -- what, attack kenjaku? pull satoru away? run? it didn't matter what. it was all a blur -- wards him and his body moves on an instinct that's even stronger that the compass needle pointing to suguru's body.

no, no.. that isn't suguru. it's his body and that's not him. somethings not right. but his student is right infront of him and that's them and he can't let anything bad happen to them now. flexing infront of his student can be saved for another day. but it's this mistake that ends up setting him right into kenjaku's trap and the box. the moment his gaze snaps to them and his body is torn between suguru infront of him and them kenjaku sees an opportunity and snaps it up like it's golden.

satoru doesn't even get the mere moment of chained freedom before he's fully trapped in the box. with the special grade student there, kenjaku needs to make it quick. make it count. he does. satoru is pulled into the box and satoru can't even say anything to his student. and he worries in his infinitesimal prison. satoru never usually worries unless if it's his leftovers have gone bad in the fridge.

they'll be alright.

they'll be alright.

they'll be alright, won't they?

they're strong.

they're capable.

they're smart.

he's raised them well they'll be okay they've got friends.

they'll do the right thing.

...

and when satoru finally exits the box he's sees faces changed. they tell him a lot about what they've been through, about what has changed since he's been gone, what changed about them.

he sees yuuji has been weathered with pain and a unique sense of hope.

he sees megumi has been puppeted with the strings of despair by sukuna.

he sees maki has faced the fiery trials and tribulations of this cruel world and bears it like her trophy.

he sees...

he sees nothing of his student. his special student. where are they? injured? somewhere off in the game? will they be back soon? time's a-running out, you know.

he sees the looks his students exchange and his heart drops. he knows. he knows. he knows what must've happened.

they're dead, aren't they?

and he's brought back to the time he carried riko's dead body in his arms and he was met with the disappearing suguru in the crowd and suguru slumped against the wall.

it's happened again.

they tell him they were a hero. that in satoru's absence, they did the heavy lifting and protected shibuya from the full-on destruction it would've suffered if not for them. that if not for them, the jujutsu world would've been left in even deeper disrepair. they saved some of their fellow sorcerers from certain death and suffering! they were the one to grapple with sukuna when he let all havoc ravage the city.

they paid with their life.

all because they were too worried about getting these normal civilians back home safe. about keeping their friends and mentors safe. and satoru wonders if there was someone else worrying about keeping them safe.

... atleast he didn't have to worry about them following in suguru's footsteps and the hatred of regular civilians. they were good of heart and soul. they were strong.

they did the right thing.

and satoru has a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that the person he's raised for, what, 10 years? is dead. gone. deceased. that's just preposterous! he was there when they were a snobby little kid and he was there when they were going through that awkward phase and he was there when they were learning more and more as a teenager and where are they now?

sukuna asks him that. "where's that miniature personification of yours? hah, don't tell me they died the last i saw them. have the special grades of this era started to slack off?"

satoru has all the more reason to kill sukuna now. he has to show his students who are watching that he can do it.

even if they will no longer watch him do anything.

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

*swings legs* some SAGAU thoughts for when you're sick

it's been raining for days.

no one's sure what caused the sudden flood- normally Liyue's storms were quick and short, unless an Adeptus or God had some part in it- but this time it continued for weeks, the rainwater soaking into the soil and pooling in crevices, the canals of the Harbor overflowing into the streets. the people grow worried, turning to the Qixing who have no solutions, and the hidden Rex Lapis investigates in the shadows and uncovers nothing.

Childe simply watches the rain in silence, leaning against the cave wall, the horns of his Foul Legacy form lightly clacking against the damp stone. unlike the rest, he knows the source of the downpour- but it doesn't make it any less worrying.

there's a soft groan behind him, and Childe's head jerks towards the mound of blankets on the floor, hurrying to kneel beside the figure buried beneath the covers- the Creator, his God.

you.

how long have you been sick for? too long- far too long for anyone, but there's not much either of you can do, with the entire nation and beyond hunting for your head. his claws brush your forehead, a low whine slipping from his fanged maw when he feels it burning, just as it was the day before. the Abyss in him howls for revenge- to strike down those who hurt you, those who chased you away, those who forced you to hide in a dark, cold cavern- but a shuddering gasp from you quiets his desire for blood, cooling it to soft, fluttering concern in his chest. your eyes, previously screwed shut in pain, crack open as you look dazedly at Childe's Foul Legacy.

"Ajax...?"

ah. his God uttering his true name in such a gentle tone would normally make his heart soar, but now it simply makes him whimper, knowing you can barely see him through the haze of your sickness. your hand extends out from under the blankets, weakly grasping one of his claws, and in a moment of solemn, fretful reverence, he brings it to his mouth and presses his version of a kiss to your too-warm skin. you shift, attempting to scoot closer, and Childe carefully scoops you and the covers into his arms, resting his chin atop your head as you curl against his chest.

you let out a wracking cough, and Childe has to hold back a sob, instead focusing on purring smoothly to help you sleep, talons mindful of the injuries and bruises that litter your body.

holding his God close, Childe quietly watches the rain thin slightly as you find comfort in his hold.

[starch1ldz]

• Pre relationship Spider!Reader and Spencer Reid who make a point to see each other whenever Spencer is in or near Manhattan because they're so smitten

• Spencer who video calls Spider!Reader whenever he has the smallest amount of free time, often times catching Spider!Reader in the middle of a patrol(on a roof, actively swinging from buildings etc etc)

• Spider!Reader who visits Quantico every once in a while when the crime rates are low enough to see Spencer and the whole team teases Spencer cause they think they're adorable.

• Spencer Reid who is so in love with Spider!Reader and sends them random things that remind him of them (clothes, jewelry, books, figurines, ect ect)

Tags: @cumulo-stratus @lover-of-books-and-tea

[brayneworms]

dog imagery, gore/violence, possessiveness

this post has made me clinically insane its so childe

he's a dog, you see. you feel it occasionally, it tugs on the corners of your eyes every so often like it's trying to remind you of its own fact, the fact that it exists. your childe is a dog, whatever kind you need. a wild one, domesticated, rabid, a guard. whatever it is, the way he looks at you sometimes is nothing less than animalistic .

the worst part is you like it. you like that sometimes his love is so great that it evolves into something monstrous , like it can't be contained with just a simple beating heart, empty words and gestures. a kiss turns into mouthing, turns into i want to eat you alive. a soft touches becomes bruising , like he's trying to sink his fingers into you. sometimes you wake in the middle of the night he's not sleeping beside you , he's sat up on the foot of your bed , staring into the darkness. guarding. waiting.

it's a dog's possessiveness he has, too. he would never think of locking you up or keeping you away from people ; he thinks you're at your most radiant when you weave through the crowds, when everyone can look at how incredible you are, and he can bask in the knowledge that they don't get to touch . but when they stare too long, when their hands wander, that's when the hairs on the back of his neck raise. he'll pass over them with a slow, cool eye.

you'll head back to your house alone that day. and when he returns a couple of hours later, he's wild-eyed, like a stray that's just wandered in. rainwater drips from his hair, down his pale skin mottled with blood. it streaks down his shirt and pants in streaks of violence, screaming out at you. and you sit up, and there's silence except for the tattoo of the rain beating against the windows. a storm whips itself up outside as childe walks over to you, slowly, and you don't know if you're prey he's trying not to frighten away or the predator he's afraid of in the first place .

he drops to his knees in front of you, blue eyes staring up, lusterless and wide; you can see the whites on every side of the iris, the wet lashes clinging together. he rests his chin on your knee, and you raise a hand and stroke through his wet hair.

"what a good boy," you whisper, and childe shudders. what's that phrase? submissive like a guard dog is submissive. like laying in wait. but you don't mind waiting. he's such a loyal dog —

hadn't you better thank him?

[observeowl]

Mama sick N.R

Natasha Romanoff x daughter!Reader

Summary: Natasha woke up sick. Wanda and R tries to help make Natasha feels better

Note: R is like 2/3 years old

Natasha woke up the morning slightly later than usual and felt a weight on her body. She looked down and you were lying peacefully on her with your thumb in your mouth from sucking in the middle of the night. She took your thumb out and rubbed your back, giving you more time to sleep so you wouldn’t be cranky later. 

Minutes later, she decided to wake you up to start the day. “Y/N” She whispered softly trying to wake you up but her voice came out scratchy. You whimpered slightly but continued sleeping. “Y/N, it’s time to wake up.” Nat decided to hold you and walk to the bathroom but when she stood up she felt slightly dizzy and weak, falling to her knees. 

She held you tight so you didn’t fall off but you hit your head on the floor causing you to cry. “Y/N, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She checked your head for any injuries while calming you down. 

“Nat! Are you coming down for breakfast?” Wanda came in to check on Natasha since she normally would already be down at the kitchen drinking her coffee. “Are you okay?” Wanda asked when she saw Natasha and you on the floor sniffing. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m coming down.” Nat said in a hoarse voice. Placing a hand on the bed while holding you with the other, she pushed herself up. 

“You clearly don’t sound good. I think you’re sick Nat.” She took you from her and insisted Natasha rest in bed. “I will make something for you to get better.”

“Come on, let’s go. Mama’s sick.” Wanda bounced you around and brought you to the kitchen with the others, notifying them that Natasha’s sick and wouldn’t be coming down. 

“Mama sick?” You said sadly. 

“Yes, we are going to give her medicine to make her feel better.” Wanda decided to include you so you don’t feel left out. 

Wanda gave you half a lemon and a plastic cup. “Squeeze it so we can’t see the bottom okay?” 

“Hugn.” You nodded and took the lemon and cup to sit on the floor and started working. You shook the lemon into the cup and checked your progress but nothing happened. You looked at Wanda but she was busy at the stove.

Using your tiny hands, you squeeze the lemon as hard as you can and you see a single drop in the cup. “Wanda!” You shouted excitedly at your progress. 

“That’s good bubs, continue yeah?” She ruffled your hair and you continued squeezing it. 

“Urghhh.” Was the sound you made at every squeeze. The lemon no longer looked round as before once you finished. Looking satisfied with your work, you stood up excited but accidentally knocked over the cup in the process. 

“Uh oh.” You mumbled quietly at your work being on the floor. Wanda was quick to get to your side and reassure you it was okay. She gave you another lemon if you wanted another go. You took it and continued in your corner.

“You sure are one determined child.” Wanda said quietly as she cleaned up your mess. After cleaning up, she remembered there’s a juicer and you wouldn’t have such a hard time squeezing the lemon. “Oh well…”

Once you were done, you carefully this time gave it to Wanda for her to make a warm honey lemon juice for your mama. Along with the soup she made, she brought it with her to Natasha who was sleeping. 

You touched your mama’s face as she was crying in her sleep, hoping to stop her cries. “Mama, don’t cry.” She managed to wake up but her eyes sting causing her to tear up. “Y/N, what did you do?” 

“It’s probably the lemon juice.” Wanda said as she passed her the honey lemon. “Y/N made this for you to get better.” 

“You did? Thank you Y/N.” 

“Hugn.” You nodded and pushed the cup closer to your mama, urging her to drink. “Mama drink.” 

She took a sip. “Thank you Y/N.” You giggled. Nat received the soup from Wanda and all you sat there as Natasha drank the soup. You were sitting in Wanda’s lap as you played with her necklace not thinking that your mama was still sick. 

When Natasha was done, she passed the bowl to Wanda who took you out of the room with her. “But mama okay?” 

“The honey lemon is not going to make her instantly better sweetie.” Your face instantly changed to a gloom. 

“I’m sorry Y/N. But I don’t want to make you sick too.” Natasha's voice was still hoarse but it wasn’t as bad as it was in the morning. 

Despite your protest of staying behind by flailing your arms and kicking your legs, you were brought out of the room. You stood by the door with your head in on the door silently, wanting to go in.

Natasha felt bad that you couldn’t be near her mama but she didn’t want you catching the flu too. She went back to sleep hoping to get better soon so she could get back to you. 

“Come on Y/N, you can’t be standing there forever.” Clint came to persuade you after numerous failed attempts from Wanda. “You can have ice cream.” He tried to bribe you but you refused to move. You sat by the door wanting your mama to come out and play with you. 

Soon you felt tired sitting there doing nothing so you ended up falling asleep by the door and Wanda carried you to her room so you could rest properly.

[bloomingflowersthings]

Playing pretend

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x daughter!reader

age: 8

Summary: today was meant to be a very fun day for you, however when you wake up sick you try to hide it from your mama

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

Today was your favorite day of the week. It was lab day with Tony. None of the other avengers would want to spend a whole day locked in a lab with a genius, but you were also a genius. At the age of 8 you had earned your space in the avengers compound as a child progidy. You were even designing your very own suit. Nothing could go wrong today.

Except for the fact that you got sick. You woke up chilled to the bone, feeling like there was a block of cement in your sinuses and with an annoying tingle in your nose that made you want to-

“Hih’tiishiew!” you sneezed down your hands.

No, you couldn’t just miss lab day. Maybe if you put some makeup on Tony wouldn’t notice, maybe if you stifled your sneezes and coughs, maybe if no one touched your skin. Yeah, it couldn’t be that hard right?

“Miss L/N, Miss Maximoff requires your presence in the compound kitchen, your breakfast is ready.” Friday announced.

Oh crap. Wanda was your mentor and mother figure ever since you moved to the avengers compound at the age of 3, she was your mama and she loved you so much. She could understand what you were thinking without you needing to say it. Not because of her powers, she would never read your mind without permission, but because of the deep connection you two shared. So hiding the fact that you were sick from Tony was easy, however hiding it from Wanda would be difficult.

“FRIDAY? Tell mama i’m on my way- H’tsschoo! Hhup’tshiew!”

“Bless you, miss L/N. Your body temperature is currently at 38.4. I believe miss Maximoff should be alerted of your condition.”

“No Friday! i’ll be alright!! please don’t tell her!”

Hurrying up you put on your clothes, blew your nose and put on a little makeup, you were looking far from healthy, but it was better than nothing.

Entering the elevator you encountered Kate who was headed to training. The young archer was like a big sister for you and she immediately picked up that something was off.

“Good morning kitten, are you heading for breakfast?” Kate asked, joy clear in her words as she spoke to you.

“Yeah.” you said, lacking your usual bubbly energy.

“Well, a birdie told me that today is lab day, so you must be excited right?” She said, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yeah, it’s gonna be fun.” You answered bluntly.

Kate was about to point out how congested you sounded when you suddenly ducked your head in your elbow to contain a set of sneezes.

“Bless you Y/N! are you feeli-“

“Never better!! gotta go! bye Katie have a good day!”

Just as she was about to feel your forehead the door to the elevator opened. You knew she was just worried about you, but nothing could make you lay down today.

Entering the kitchen you got surprised by the fact that your mama had made you waffles. They were your favorite and she only made them on special days.

“Good morning detka, did you sleep well?”

“Good morning mama, is there something special today?”

“Well, you were so excited for your lab day that I decided to make you a little treat, did you like it?”

“Yes mama!! thank you so much!!”

While you were excited because of the waffles, you almost didn’t notice Wanda approaching you, and when you did noticed it was too late. Your fever clouded brain wasn’t fast enough to avoid the kiss on the cheek that she gave you every morning.

As soon as her lips touched your warm cheek, the smile Wanda had on soon turned into a frown and you knew there was no turning back now.

“Baby, you feel warm, are you feeling okay?”

You tried to answer properly however, your nose had other plans.

“I feel fi -Hh- fine -Hh’k-tshhiew! Heh’iiishiew! Hh..H..HHitsshiew!”

“Bless you Y/N!” She exclaimed, worry clear in her tone as she spoke, “I think you’re getting sick honey, I’m afraid we’re gonna have to postpone your day with Tony.”

“You’re overreacting! I’m fine!!” While trying to prove Wanda that you weren’t sick, your breath got caught in your throat, sending you into a harsh coughing fit.

“Calm down baby, just breathe.” Wanda began rubbing circles on your back. She could feel your lungs rattling with every cough.

As your fit ended, the witch looked deep into your eyes, a loving look that showed affection. “Y/N, I know how excited you were. I know you had plans for today and that you don’t want to cancel them. However, we need to get you feeling better, because you’re not gonna have much fun if you’re feeling yucky the whole time right?”

At the mentioning of canceling your plans, you could already feel tears pricking your eyes. “But mama, I can go! i’m not feeling that bad I swe-“ Your body betrayed you once more as you sneezed twice on your elbow, the action bringing another coughing fit.

With a swift of her hand, Wanda gave you a cup of water while rubbing your back. “Shh, drink it slowly detka.” As your coughing subsided she finally reached out to feel your forehead, feeling your raging fever.

“Jesus Y/N, you’re burning up love! please just lay down for me.”

“But I really wanted to go…” you said, your voice trembling both because of your emotions, and because of your chills.

“I understand your frustration. You can go once you’re feeling better. C’mon, i’m going to take care of you.” Wanda spoke tenderly. She effortlessly picked you up and your exhaustion made you lay your head on her shoulder.

Exiting the kitchen you both stumbled across Kate, who interrupted her training and came to check up on you.

“I think she’s got a cold, but she’ll be alright.” Wanda explained to the archer. “Call me if you need any help!” Kate offered, and you knew she would drop everything to take care of you. Luckily, all of the avengers loved and protected you and you felt safe around them.

In your hazy state, you only noticed you weren’t in your room when your mama placed you in her bed. “That’s your room.” You said with your already hoarse voice. “Yes baby, it’s going to be easier to take care of you here.” Wanda answered while rummaging in the bathroom looking for some medicine and a thermometer.

Retrieving everything she needed, Wanda walked back into the room only to find you in your adorable pre sneeze expression. Your breath hitched for a second before your body gave in to the itch, “Hh’tshh! Hh’itshhiew!”

“Can I say bless you now? I didn’t want to interrupt you.” She joked, her tone softening as she approached you, gently moving the hair which had fallen infront of your face and offering you some tissues.

You blew your nose and cleaned your hands before Wanda spoke: “I really need to take your temperature and give you some medicine, can you help me with that?” you nodded slowly, rubbing your eyes. Mama pressed a kiss to your temples as she slid the thermometer under your tongue.

It was only a minute before the device beeped. Reading the tiny numbers Wanda frowned, “39.2, that’s a bit too high, detka.”

you hummed, not really absorbing what was being said to you. The witch gave you a cup of Nyquil and some paracetamol before tucking you under the duvet and laying by your side.

As she massaged your scalp, you found that you couldn’t keep your eyes open anymore, before you gave in to your exhaustion you got closer to Wanda. “I love you mama, thank you for taking care of me.” you said as you closed your eyelids.

Giving one more kiss to your forehead, the witch answered: “I love you baby, mama will always take care of you.”

[crypticjackal13]

Umm..hi !!

I have a request its ok if you dont take it ^^

My request is..how would the traffic light trio take care of Child!Reader if they were sick with a high fever?

Its platonic ofc and the pronouns are she/her

( I am sick irl so I just got curious on what and how they would react ^^ )

( I hope this wasent too much :'] )

Traffic Light Trio my beloved 😍 and yes absolutely!! Hope you feel better!!

Traffic Light Trio x Sick!GN Child!Reader Headcanons!(PLATONIC!!)

Honey you will not have to lift a single finger while you're sick. Redson is especially attentive in making sure you're resting and not trying to strain yourself.

Mei is the one who helps make food and what not for you. She notes your favorite type of soup, juice, fruits and veg, so that way you can get healthy and it'll taste good.

MK keeps you entertained! He plays games with you(so do the others, but he's the most likely to want to distract you from how much it sucks being sick), watches cartoons with you, etc.

Redson and MK are the ones convincing you to take the medicine. They know it tastes bad, but if you don't do it, you'll be sick for longer. Mei is the neutral party here, sometimes jokingly assisting you in getting away from them and sometimes scooping you up so you can get caught by them. It's a gamble every time!

With masks on, they all cuddle you. You're a comfy blanket burrito and they're all around you as you guys watch a movie!

They feel bad you can't go do the things you want, like go to the park and stuff, but they also know it's for the best you're at home and not getting other people sick.

Redson and Mei are the ones who are at home the most, with MK doing deliveries and training, so they like playing with you. Both enjoy doing pretend tea parties and no one can change my mind.

They literally love you so much, your adorable and precious to them, but please oh my goodness don't cough right on the blanket ;-;

They promise that once you're healthy again, they'll take you wherever you want to make up for lost activities!

[witch-hazels-musings]

Harbinger Diluc - Match 8 - History

Synopsis: One day, the Harbinger meets someone who ignites something different in him - and all he knows is to keep what he wants close, that’s all that matters

Harbinger!Diluc X FM Reader | Anthology

Match 1 - Introductions |  Match 2 - New Normal |  Match 3 - Trust  |  Match 4 - Knowledge | Match 5 - Realizations | Match 6 - Commitment | Match 7 - Awakening 

Warnings (specific to each chapter) - > sea sickness (throwing up, feeling of discomfort, unease), SPICE (16+)(making out, touching non-specific, reader wrapping legs around character, implied 18+ activities, hints at nudity not specified), Childe Spoilers (history of his past and why he joined the fatui), Diluc spoilers (mentions of his past, Hazels interpretation of how his past led him to joint he fatui) 

It took you a while to come to terms with what he had said. The words weren’t distorted, the crashing waves against the side of the boat didn’t make you question what he told you, but it was still too much, and you felt like throwing up. 

“... S- Snezhnaya?” Diluc nodded while you pressed your hand to your stomach. Never in your life did you think you’d head to the most dangerous, coldest, and most ruthless land in all of Teyvat. You’d heard stories of the torturous snow, of the freezing air that could turn the mist in your lungs to ice. To actually be on a ship headed toward - what you would consider - your worst nightmare was one thing, but to do so on a ship full of people you didn’t trust was somehow worse. “I um --” 

“Would you like me to open a window?” Diluc asked, his footsteps drowned away in the creaking haul of the large ship. The bed dipped when he sat next to you, his fingers brushing over your tangled mess of hair. Shaking your head, you pulled your legs to your chest and moaned. If it weren’t for the familiar scent of Diluc’s coat smashing into your face, you might have completely lost sense of reality. “Try to breathe.” 

Logically, you knew there wasn’t anything you could do but breathe, there wasn’t any choice you could make but to embrace the reality around you. You chose this, you were the one who stood in front of the Harbinger Targalia and threatened him, told him you’d go with him in order to protect Diluc. This was your fault, you were here because of your own choices. So why didn’t that make you feel any less miserable. 

“Sick ...” 

“Mmm?” 

Lifting your head up, you grabbed Diluc’s arm, leaned toward him and though you tried to explain yourself, he seemed to understand by the expression on your face, “... sick ...” 

“Oh! Hold on,” he moved just in time for you to shove your face in a bucket. 

--

Your body hurt. Not just from the violent purge of your stomach, but your head throbbed, your legs and back ached, and your heart yearned for the solid feeling of dirt and rocks. Diluc did his best to stay by your side but it seemed even here duty called him away. 

Rolling onto your side, you grimaced at the bubbles of gas and nausea that came with the action. The boat rattled against the waves and you wished for death. 

“Excuse me, ma’am,” A gentle voice called to you from beyond the closed door. You glanced their way, waiting. They knocked, opened the compartment door, and peered in when you didn’t answer. “Pardon me,” a young woman said as she entered the room and bowed. She was carrying a small basket with cloth inside, her chestnut hair was tied back into a messy bun as if she hurriedly threw it together. When she stood up, you noticed the richness of her skin; apparently she had seen many days in the sun. 

Quietly, she made her way toward the bed where you curled around a pillow, every once in a while groaning at the constant churning of the boat. The woman was silent for the most part, save for the hollow noises she made as she moved around the room. Her actions were specific, as if she knew every inch of the cabin you were in. 

“... how long have you been here?” you asked, curious and hoping the conversation would be a good distraction. 

“I’m sorry?” she paused with her hands hovering over the pile of clothing she placed in the chest near the end of the bed. Her head tilted so you asked your question again. 

“It looks like you’ve been in this room many times. I’m just ...” a wave of nausea came over you so you quickly sat up, hand extending toward the now empty bucket, “wondering how long you’ve been on this boat.” 

“Ah,” as the woman moved to assist you, her hair flopped to the side but she didn’t seem to mind. “Many years now.” 

“Did they kidnap you too?” you mumbled into the bucket, ready for what was to come. 

Her voice rang out into the sun-spilled room, a cool cloth touched the back of your head, “No such thing. The sea and I seem to have a deep connection.” 

“ugh,” 

“It takes some getting used to though, but once you find yourself,” she brushed the hair from your face and you noticed the lines that decorated her lower cheeks and eyes; years worth of joy were written across her skin. “You’ll notice the beauty the ocean has to offer.” 

“... right now, I just want to settle my stomach.” 

“Right,” she hummed and lifted herself off the bed. For a while you stared into the empty, terrible smelling bucket while she rummaged around. The sound of water and calming hums filled your senses until a kind hand returned to your side. “Drink this,” you looked at the cup she offered hesitantly. At this point, what harm could it do. 

The liquid soothed your hot throat, it coated the inside of your stomach like a cool breeze laps away the sweat on your brow. You sighed and lifted yourself further from the bucket. “Tastes like ginger.” 

“Mhm, a fine remedy for the sickness of the sea.” 

“How much should I drink?” 

She chuckled again, “All of it.” You nodded, and did as she suggested while she returned to her work. 

--

“I’ve left a fresh outfit for you,” the woman explained, her hands once again wrapped around the basket she came in with, head bowed in respect. “Feel free to change when you’re ready. I will return in some time to check on you.” 

“... thanks,” you replied, eyeing the cloth at the edge of the bed. It was simple, plain looking, which seemed unexpected considering the attire your companions chose to wear. The woman was about to leave but before she could go, you called to her again, “wait. You didn’t tell me your name.”  

“It’s Sisi, ma’am,” she answered before exiting the room and leaving you alone. 

--

You didn’t get up immediately, but once your body started to feel like you were in control, that the nausea plaquing you had run its course, you carefully made your way off the bed. It was strange to walk. You’d been on small boats before as a child. The unsteady rocking made you anxious, so you preferred to hunt for game in the woods than in the fishing boats. Here however, you were trapped. Again. 

Each time the waves crashed against the bows of the ship, you felt it in your legs, in your chest. You cursed at the sensation. You hated feeling out of control, and here you had so little already. “Get it together,” you told yourself, as if that would help.

Carefully, you made your way toward the end of the bed where the outfit Sisi picked out for you laid. The fabric was different than what you were used to. Whoever weaved this together left ample space for wind to pass through. When you placed your hand inside the shirt, you noticed it still showed your skin and you hoped there was something more opaque to cover the parts of your body you didn’t want revealed. 

Glancing around the room you found a door that, upon investigation, revealed itself to be a bathroom. It was annoying, but after a while you managed to change. When you stepped back into the room, Diluc was standing there, waiting. 

“Oh, hello,” you greeted him as you bounced against the door frame, your legs dreadfully unprepared for the jostling sea. 

He made his way toward you, unaffected. An outstretched hand came into view and you took it eagerly. “How are you feeling?” he asked, his finger grazing the back of your palm. 

“Much better, I just -” you stumbled into him without wanting too and clicked your teeth, “I want to stand properly.” 

“You’ll get used to it.” 

“Archons, I hope so.” 

Diluc fell silent. You weren’t sure why until you felt him adjust the clothes you’d just put on. His hand slowly moved across the sky-blue collar, his fingers smoothed out the uneven and wrinkled fabric covering your chest until he reached the hem of your pants where the shirt was tucked in. Diluc pulled at the long, thin sleeves covering your arms while you stood there, lost. 

Your hair that often spilled over your shoulders was pulled back slightly by a hair clip. You were glad for it because the room was growing warmer by the second. “Diluc?” you questioned, eyes lifting away from his long-sleeve black button up to his face which was studying you intently. Swallowing, you looked to the floor. 

“This suits you,” he professed as he took as step closer, unfazed by the way you bumped into him.

“I think you’d say that about anything.” Your hands were sweating so you rubbed them on your pants, lucky for you they were black. 

“It wouldn’t make my statement any less true.” Lifting your head, you felt yourself sway at the intensity of him. His hair was tied back but some strands fell around his face even now, grazed his sharp jaw and shrouded his intense eyes until they were almost too much to look at. Backing up provided little reprieve because he followed you until you were flush against the door frame, his hand gripping the wood to keep you from slipping into the small room beyond. 

It was hard to breathe. You found this rather common when trapped by him but instead of trying to wriggle your way free, you embraced the proximity, fighting back when you could. Your hips pushed into him, a rather forward action to which he rewarded with a demanding grip on your waist. 

You could already feel yourself slipping under him. Quick breaths couldn’t stop the swelling sensation rising in your body. Your heart wouldn’t slow down no matter how many times you closed your eyes and willed it. Thoughts of the last night you were together flooded your mind. You yearned to experience it again.  

Diluc leaned in, his eyes locked onto your lips but when you didn’t return the gesture, he stopped. “Do you not-” 

“No,” you interrupted him, suddenly aware of his misunderstanding, “I’m just waiting.” 

“Waiting for?” he asked, his breath hot as he hovered above the lips you could feel his desire to have. 

“Waiting to see if we’ll be interrupted.”

“Mmm.” Diluc pulled away slightly so both of you could listened for the sound of footsteps just outside, the call of his name which so often came. Save for the distant chatter of the crew and the steady crashing of the waves, the only sound left was your heavy breathing. “I don’t he-” 

“Yup.” With force, you cupped his face, tilted your own, and crashed into his lips. He responded in equal ferocity, fingers already pulling at the shirt you shoved into your pants. No matter how badly you wanted to keep kissing him, you couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped at the sensation of his hands against your skin, at the feeling of his thumb just below the most sensitive part of your chest. When he stopped so he could lift you around his waist, you let go and became practically feral at the display of his strength.  

With ease and swiftness, he took you away from the support of the wall and carried you to the bed. It took little time to fall against it, and even less time to remove his shirt - since he practically tore it off himself. His red hair fell over his shoulder, brushed against your sensitive skin as he hovered above you. The tender affections he left across your neck, your jaw, your cheeks, filled you and made you gasp at every impression he left. 

This must be what it feels like to love and be loved by another, you thought. 

--

It was well into the evening when you made your first exit out of the cabin. Surprisingly, you noticed the rocking boat less than before. You weren’t sure if it was time that helped you adjust, or the guiding hand that led you up the steps. Either way, when you reached the deck, you felt your heart flip at the sight. 

Nervous, unsteady, you made your way toward the edge of the massive ship. Griping the thick wooden taffrail, you admired a landscape you would have never seen otherwise. 

Radiant reds, yellows, and oranges stretched across the shimmering water. The light flashed over the gentle waves, it danced and swayed creating shapes you’d never seen before. What stole your senses most was how endless it all was. Vast stretches of glittering water surrounded you and while the west glowed in brilliance, the east was lost in icy blues and pitch black.

“It’s quiet the sight, don’t you think?” Tartaglia’s voice ripped through your awe in an instant. Dejected, you settled back onto your feet. 

“It was,” you mumbled under your breath but you were certain Diluc heard you by the way he turned his head the other way. 

Tartaglia glided down the steps from the helm, his arms stretched wide as if he were soaking in the evening air. “Enjoy the weather while you can, comrade. The closer we get to Snezhnaya, haha, well, you’ll see.” he chuckled, stopping a few feet from where you were standing and placing a hand on the rail you leaned against earlier. His expression wasn’t what you expected. He seemed almost wistful, as if he were thinking of a private memory. “Neverminded that,” he shifted instantly; this man was like a living whiplash. “I bet you’re starving.” His comment was simple but pointed, and it made your chest hot. You tried to play it off but something about the way he smirked at the both of you made you extremely embarrassed. 

“I - um.” 

“I mean, you haven’t eaten in almost a day. Plus I heard you were sick,” he continued as if it was nothing and you felt your body catch on fire for thinking he was talking about what you and Diluc had done earlier. “Feeling better?” Nodding, you turned back to the sea to cool your face. “Great, let’s get you some food.” He waved, making his way toward the other side of the boat to a set of stairs. You followed after him but not before glancing at Diluc who looked unamused.

It was surprising just how big the ship was. The further down you went, the more shocked you were to find rooms, storage, commissary places that didn’t seem possible on a boat of this size. To be fair, you didn’t really recall examining the ship prior to leaving. 

“Here,” Tartaglia escorted you to a table near the open kitchen. There were a few people working next to one another on small counters. They seemed to move smoothly, never once bumping into each other even with the unsteady floor beneath them. The harbinger disappeared for a moment before returning with a few plates. It was the last thing you expected, to be served by the 11th Harbinger of the Fatui. “It’s not the best food, but it’ll do,” he explained as he slid the dishes to you. 

The meal was simple. A few slices of meat with boiled potatoes and vegetables. Nothing too overpowering, which was good considering you were starting to feel ill again. Though, as your stomach growled, you figured it was because you hadn’t eaten in a long time. 

Tartaglia didn’t wait; the sound of his knife slamming into the plate as he picked up the meat to take a bite reminded you of an animal enjoying their kill. “So,” he began, excitement in his eyes and a smile on his lips, “how’d it feel to touch the talisman?” 

“Tartaglia,” Diluc glowered at the man across the table, jaw clenching.

“Come on!” he exclaimed, hand slapping against the table, the other still holding the meat. “I’m curious. Don’t tell me you haven’t wondered the same thing?” Diluc’s jaw tightened and you figured it would be easier to appease Tartaglia rather than let something in Diluc’s ever-dwindling patience, snap. 

“It hurt,” you replied before biting into your own food. You started with the potatoes before working toward anything with more potent flavor. When the harbingers looked at you, you continued, “It was like ... mmm ... a snake coiling up your arm and squeezing as tight as it can before sinking its teeth into you.” 

“Ouch,” Tartaglia grimaced, though it seemed disingenuous. 

“It was only for a bit, but ... it hurt.” You recalled the dark room flashing in violent blue, the darkness of the domain pushing down against you, the Herald’s power with every strike. Subconsciously, you peered at Diluc in your peripherals. 

“Does it hurt any other time?” 

“Mmm,” you thought about his question by taking a few other bites. Your appetite returning with force. “No.” 

“What about when you fight?” 

“It doesn’t ... hurt. It just feels -- I guess like an itch you can’t scratch?” Diluc’s attention turned to something down the hall but when you looked there wasn’t anything there. Or, at least, that’s what you thought. 

“No more questions,” he demanded, eyes shifting to Tartaglia.

“Wha-” 

“Now.” There was an uncomfortable pressure settling at the table. You could tell the young gentleman across from you desperately wanted to keep going but he waved his hands in appeasment. Discomfort took the place of curiosity and the three of you ate in silence for.

You couldn’t help but notice how tense Diluc was. It was like the moment you went into the bowels of the ship, his entire demeanor changed. He was on edge, and you didn’t know why. 

So, you decided to distract yourself.

“So, Tartaglia-” 

“Call me Childe, comrade,” he beamed, elbows resting on the table as he leaned in toward you. 

“Tartaglia,” you began again, ignoring him, “how did you become part of the Fatui?  

“Ah, now that’s quiet the interesting story.” 

“I’m all ears,” you encouraged and tossed the final bit of food into your mouth. 

“Let’s just say I have an insatiable desire for conquest,” he smirked and placed his hands on top of one another so he could rest his chin against them. You scoffed at how at ease he was. 

“Fine, don’t tell me.” 

He chuckled, “It’s honestly not that impressive. When I was nearly, what now, fifteen, sixteen, my father enlisted me.” 

“You’re father!?” Shooting a look at Diluc, he seemed unaffected by the news. 

“Yup, he hoped it would ‘satiate my desire for battle.’ I don’t blame or hate him for it. You should hear of some of the conquests I’ve had, of the blood I’ve spilt.” Tartaglia seemed to revel in his story. Flashes of something far stronger than elation shimmered in his eyes as he spoke and you wished you hadn’t asked the question. 

“You were just a child. To force someone at that age into this life, it hardly seems fair.” 

“Fair,” he hummed, head nodding, “life isn’t. I learned that far earlier than my indoctrination into the Fatui, even before my first bout against fellow harbingers. Mmm, the darkness of the abyss truly holds nothing but contempt, wouldn’t you agree, Noctua?” He flashed a knowing look to the man at your side whose piecing gaze would have frightened you if you hadn’t grown used it it by now. Though, there was something odd about the familiarity the two of them shared.

“I thought the Abyss was just a folktale, something parents tell their children about to keep them in line.” 

“Oh, it’s very real. Care to find out?” The devil flashed across his face; a visceral elation washing out any human-like features. It took your breath away. 

“We’re done.” Diluc stood from the table and practically pulled you with him. 

“Awe, don’t go yet,” Tartaglia wined, that fake face of his plastered back on like a mask. You hated how easily he could flip from one personality to another. “Hey! Why don’t you tell her the story of when you joined-” 

“No.” 

“Come on, it’s not that bad!” 

“We’re leaving.” Diluc turned his back to the harbinger sitting, pouting, and begging at the table while he pushed you down the hallway and toward the stairs. You managed to get out of earshot, but not before hearing Tartaglia yell, ‘you’ll have to tell her sometime!’ 

When the two of you made it back to the quarters on the other side of the ship, only the sound of the door closing made you breathe easy. 

“How many days until we reach land?” you asked, body tense and exhausted. 

“Three weeks,” he answered with a weary sigh. 

--

Days went by without much to report. You finally found what they called, ‘sea legs’ and settled into a normal routine. Meals in the morning, activities to pass the time in the afternoon, dinner holed up in your quarters or with the other operatives on board. Some nights you spent alone, others you were at your harbingers side. The ocean was rather beautiful at night. You grew to enjoy the sounds and sights of the setting and rising sun. Once, you were goaded into a sparing match with Tartaglia. He was almost successful but Diluc took your place. 

Considering how the entire crew begged them to stop before they destroyed the whole ship, you couldn’t imagine the damage they could have done on land. 

On days you woke up next to Diluc, the two of you made time to be as isolated from everyone else. It was clear in these confined days that he wasn’t fond of being social. You didn’t mind, in fact you welcomed it. The quiet comfort of just being near each other brought ease to you unsettled mind. You passed the time reading while he worked, he inquired about your past and you did the same, but in small doses. There was always that prickling question dancing on the end of your tongue but you avoided asking it. 

Who was Diluc before the Fatui, and what changed him? 

Sisi stopped by every now and again. When Diluc was busy elsewhere, the two of you held pleasant conversation. She, much like yourself, was a private person but one evening she let slip that she was looking for someone. When you pushed a little more, she reassured you it was nothing important before finding an excuse to leave. Sisi was still kind in future interactions, but she appeared more guarded with her responses. 

The times you did decide to leave your quarters, you were thankful you’d grown used to Diluc’s shadow. If he could escort you, he would, or he’d ask that you wait for him. There was clearly something about this journey that unsettled him but he refused to share his discomfort. Instead, he’d pass it off as being tired, or that he was distracted. Even now he didn’t share his worries with you. It was frustrating considering the blooming relationship the two of you were building. 

You tried not to let it bother you, but there were things about him you didn’t know. What real reason did you have to trust the man who took you from your home - was it right for you to even be at his side after everything that had happened. 

“Where are you?” Diluc asked, his voice filling your ear, fingers tracing across your arm as you leaned against him in the bed. You took in a breath and felt the muscles of his chest push against your back. Carefully, you adjusted so you could be closer to him, using his strong legs you lifted yourself from between them and propped your knees up to keep you stable. He waited for you by kissing your exposed shoulder and neck. 

“I’m thinking.” 

Another kiss against your neck. “About?”

“You.” Diluc hummed, signaling his curiosity. “We’ve been on this ship for almost three weeks but I still know so little about you.” 

“What would you like to know?” 

He opened the door but you were still nervous to step inside. “Well ... who were you be-before you were a Harbinger?” It wasn’t the question you wanted to ask but it was as close as you could get. You were certain he could feel your heart pounding in your chest. 

“I was no-one.” 

“Diluc, that’s not an answer.” Your tone was one of frustration. You didn’t intend for it to be but with your nerves on the frits, it came out that way. 

“It will not provide you more information about who I am. I am no longer that person.” 

You twisted so you could look at him, the sheets pulled tight against your chest to keep you covered. “Let me decide that. Please.” Searching his face, you felt your brows furrow and lips turn into a frown. He relaxed and pushed your hair over your shoulder. 

“As you wish.” 

Diluc started at his childhood. One filled with rules and expectations that, at times, felt suffocating. He grew to understand them, grew to accept them and explained how they started to change him. Diluc shared of his family. A father who was strict, driven, and dedicated to helping others. A brother whose mischievous behaviors often got the both of them into trouble but whose company he fondly recalled. A maid who was like a mother to him. These memories brought a smile to his face as if they were a cherished part of him. 

He was open, for the first time in a long time about who he was and where he came from. It was like your eagerness to hear him released the flood-gates of repression. 

“I was a member of the Knights of Favonius.” 

“Really!” 

“Hah, yes.” he confirmed, his body adjusting to your own as you twisted to look at him again. “A Calvary Captain actually.” 

“W-Wow.” The thought of Diluc dressed in the garments of the knights made you chuckle, but left your heart feeling sad. From what you knew about them, they were a reputable organization. The pride of Mondstadt. What could have happened to turn this boy who valued honor to an organization that destroyed it.  “So what - um -” 

“What happened?” 

“Yeah.” 

Diluc tensed, his arms coiled around your stomach and he held you against him. Even if you wanted to turn toward him, you couldn’t. “A monster.” The atmosphere in the room shifted, and you listened. “There was a party in the city. One to celebrate the ‘coming of age.’ Everyone was there to join in the festivities; and free alcohol.” He added, a slight, bitter chuckle rumbling in his chest. “On the way back to our estate, we were leading a caravan and that’s when -” 

“The monster?” you asked as your hands found his arms. 

“Yes. I wasn’t strong enough, none of us were, but my father fought against it with everything he had.” Diluc’s grip tightened and you felt his pain seeping from your eyes. “I watched him do unbelievable things. He was never gifted a vision but if there was someone more deserving I do not know them.” He paused for a moment before continuing, “In the end, he defeated what we later learned was a dragon but not before it corrupted him. It stole his senses, his soul. He became crazed, unlike himself, and I was left to ... I had to ...” 

He didn’t say it, couldn't say it, but when the realization that Diluc had to kill his own father dawned on you, there was nothing holding you back from reacting. You twisted in his arms until you could comfortably hold him. “I’m sorry,” you whispered into his hair. His nails bit into your back and you let them. 

“After that,” he continued but you wanted him to stop, you wanted to take your question back so you knelt between his bent legs and pressed your hands to his chest. 

Shaking your head, you called to him but he kept going. 

“I told the knights about what had happened, told my brother, but they all turned their back on me. I vowed to find the answers no one else would give. After a long time it led me to Snezhnaya, where I fought my way to the source and came face to face with the Tsaritsa.” 

“Diluc ...” 

“She redefined me. Took my hollow life and filled it with purpose. With her I found the retribution I wanted, I was owed, and I never looked back.” His expression turned dark as if remembering was enough to close off the suffering that came before it. These words came from him, but they felt unlike him; twisted.

For the first time since that day on the grassy plane, Diluc looked like the Harbinger you feared, and you desperately wanted to pull him free from that place. 

Bending forward, you cupped his face in your hands but he wouldn’t look at you. “Look at me,” you uttered, a few times, a small shake of his head until he finally met your eyes. “You were not no-one,” you lifted his head when he tried to look away, “the person who lived this life before the Fatui is still there. He’s still here,” placing your hand on his chest, you pushed to help him feel it, “even now, you have shown me that he is. What you went through was terrible, it was painful but it did not take away the person you once were. The person your father taught you to be, the one your brother remembers.” Tears ran down your cheeks, the landed on his chest and slowly the life in his eyes returned, “You are nothing like them.” 

“I am them.” 

“You may hold a name, but that doesn’t define you. If you can’t see that t-then let me r-remind you. I’ll be here to remind you.” Your words were growing choppy, the tightness in your throat made it hard to communicate so you hoped it was reaching him. Pointing at the center of his chest, you blurted out, “Diluc Ragnvindr lives in there, and I’ll fight whoever or whatever I need to, to b-bring him b-back.” 

His eyes went wide at the name he hadn’t heard in years. Like the moment it rolled off your tongue ignited a nostalgia he had long forgotten. The sound of his past came flooding back in, but he didn’t know how to answer it. 

Tenderly, he pulled you against him until you fell into his arms. He found it difficult to know why this affected you so much. This was just another story, one he’d heard from countless other Fatui. It rattled him to see you react this way, but what confounded him more was the flame in his chest that became rekindled at the sound of his real name. 

“I am them,” he mumbled while you wrapped your arms around him and whispered, ‘you’re not.’ 

--

Day’s past and the icy wind, the chilling crash of an endless winter crept closer and closer to the Artemis. You were fortunate there was appropriate attire for you considering you hadn’t had a chance to pack. Still, no matter how much you put on, in the depth of your soul you knew whatever waited for you would be an encounter you weren’t prepared for. 

As the final day came to a close, you watched the snow fall across the ocean. You saw the push in the sails as they forced their way forward. In the distance you strained to see the peaks of snow-covered mountain ranges against the boundless white. Only in the darkness could you tell where civilization began and the cold ended; like small beacons in the night, you were headed straight for them. 

Nervously, you wrapped the thick coat around your shoulders. Your hair tight and clumped to the sides of your face as the snowflakes attached, melted, and froze again. It hurt to breathe but you refused to hide away from what waited for you. 

Someone moved to your side, the radiating warmth told you who, so you moved closer to them. “We're almost there,” you said, the towering wall of white affirming your observation. 

“Yes.” Diluc’s voice was tense; you knew why. 

Another joined the watch, someone you’d learned much of and yet so little in these last three weeks. Someone who’s straightforward approaches reminded you of your own, but felt so foreign to you. While you put one foot in front of the other, he bounded forward with a thrill in his heart and blades flashing in the light. 

There was a time you thought you couldn’t trust the man who was now guarding you, would you ever be able to look at this Harbinger’s face and see anything but a well-decorated façade. 

“Ah! Doesn’t the world look so glorious in the snow?” He asked, though it seemed rhetorical, “The pure white, the pristine quiet of it all, like the light of the moon.” 

“It’s just cold to me,” you added, a shiver arriving just in time to emphasize your point. 

“Oh but you see,” he explained as he leaned onto the taffrail, his hands dangling toward the frozen ocean as he breathed in the air. “It has such a perfect backdrop for bloodshed.” 

Tartaglia’s words sent a cold chill down your spine. How can someone with a face like his, and a smile so earnest, speak of such things so easily. He turned to wink at you and you moved closer to Diluc. 

“This is why you don’t work well with others.” Diluc groaned. 

“Hey now, and here I thought we had become fast friends, Diluc.” 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Pity,” he lamented, “because you’re going to need some of those.” And with that, the bright lighthouse came into view and so did the ominous headquarters of the Fatui stronghold. 

I wish there was a way to know you’re in the good days before you leave them

[azukiel]

Blessed Yuletide and Merry Christmas everyone!

Just letting you all know that I’ve come down with Corona again (on 24th) and it’s really made me ill. So, there won’t be any updates to Nightfall heir for a while and I haven’t been able to read people’s stories like I had promised. Apologies 🙇

Take care of yourselves

[hyperfixatedoncrimminalminds]

hiii!! Could i get a simple one shot where its specer reid x daughter(6) who had woken up with the flu in the middle of the night, and reid is just the best dad ever, if you can throw in a bed wetting scene as well, Lots of comfort i love your writting so much🤍

Request: hiii!! Could i get a simple one shot where its specer reid x daughter(6) who had woken up with the flu in the middle of the night, and reid is just the best dad ever, if you can throw in a bed wetting scene as well, Lots of comfort i love your writting so much🤍

This idea is adorable thank you for requesting!

Third person pov...

Spencer Reid was tired, the last case had been a hard one, in Las Vagas an unsub was kidnapping little children aged 4 to 8 and pretending that they were their parents, if the kid misbehaved or did something the unsub didn't want she would kill them.

She got through 8 children both boys and girls before the last victim little 6 year old esme, she had been kidnapped from the park near the unsubs hunting ground.

She was knocked out and kept the longest, a week later she managed to escape from the house, she had told the team she escaped when the unsub was taking a nap and forgot to lock one of the windows, covered in bruises and blood the little girl was saved and the unsub captured.

On the plane ride home Spencer was anxious to see his daughter, little Esme had remind him of his 6 year old safe home Virginia, the doctor was currently on the phone with the babysitter.

He sat drumming his left hand on the table waiting for the call to go through finally when the called connected he felt less anxious. "Hello Mr Reid" she said, Spencer relaxes slightly.

"Y-yes he-hello Mrs thorn, I'm calling to let you know I will be home by 1am, we have just left Las vagas" he explains to the babysitter, Mrs Thorn had been Y/Ns babysitter ever since she was a baby.

Spencer of course has a very demanding job and it always away on case from 2 days to almost 2 weeks, depending on the Unsub, he doesn't get to see existing daughter must when he does he spends every minute with her.

Only being 6 years old the little girl is very smart like her Daddy, she understood why he left her with Mrs Thorn alot, but I didn't mean he didn't love her just that he was busy saving other people from bad guys.

"Ooh that's great news Mr Reid, little Y/N has been missing you, she will be very happy to have you home" Exclaimed Mrs Thorn, Spencer grinned.

"I've missed her too, can you put her on for me ?" He askes hope in his voice, Mrs Thorn laughed slightly. "Of course I can, here she is- N/N its Daddy" Spencer can hear Mrs thorn say.

Then the unmistakable squeal of his daughter. "Daddy!! Daddy it's you" Exclaimed Y/N the little 6 year old had been given the phone to talk to her Dad.

Spencers smile widened at the sound of his daughters voice. "Hi sweetie, it's Daddy, I'm coming home" he says hearing Y/N squeal loudly in excitement at the news.

"Yayy! Daddy's coming home, you hear that Mrs Thorn!- yes I hear N/N- oh Daddy! I got a new book from the library" Little Y/N then spent the next hour telling her Father what she did the time he was away.

Hours later the plane finally lands, Y/N had fallen asleep telling her Dad what, she did almost two hours ago, throughout the time Spencer had noticed the team watching him with smiles on their faces as he talked tk his daughter.

Soon the group of 6 were walking to the bullpen to grab their stuff. "I cannot wait to get home and sleep I'm my bed" groaned Emily, JJ and Morgan agreeing with her.

Spencer grabbed bus go bag and normal bag and was making his way to the exit. "See you guys tomorrow, late start at 9 so relax a little before coming in" called Hotch from his office.

Soon Spencer was home, Mrs Thorn had left an hour ago after Y/N fell asleep, Spencer quickly opened and locked the door behind him as he walks in.

He tiptoes as silently as possible, taking of his shoes abd walking through the apartment, he puts down his bag, he pulls out the book he bought home for Y/N.

He goes to sit on to sofa but is stopped by crying, tensing Spencer looks to his daughters room. "N/N" he runs to her room and slams open the door. "N/N? Are you okay? It's daddy" he says to the dark room, the only light source being the night light.

"Daddy!" Sobs the little H/C haired girl, the 6 year old was currently kneeling on her bed, hair sticking up, rubbing her teary eyes as she cries.

Spencer walks over to her quickly, he shush the crying girl, picking her up and hugging her rocking back and forth trying to comfort. "Shh Shh it'd okay Baby, daddy's here daddy's right here " he whispers calmly in her ear.

After a while she stops, her sobs turning into sniffles, Spencer child feel his shirt soaked with tears but he didn't care, only comforting hid daughter mattered.

"Daddy" cries Y/N, Spencer shushes her again. "It's okay Baby" as he continues rocking thr 6 year old he finally notices the wet patch on her sheets where she was laying.

He then gently pulled the red eyed girl of his shoulder and infront of him, he then looked at the wet patch on her pj's. 'Oh no' he thinks.

"It'd okay N/N, you didn't mean to" he mutters, holding his daughter in one hand he pulled all the sheets of the bed, and started to run a warm bath for Y/N.

Rubbing her back thr Agent sat on the toilet to watch thr bath, bouncing Y/N as he did. "Daddy hurt" whispers Y/N her voice horse from crying.

Spencer then turned her around. "Where does it hurt N/N?" He asks, Y/N then point to her throat and head. Spencer the checks her forehead she does feel a little warm.

"Guess you got the Flu sweetie, don't worry after a nice warm bath I'll give you some medicine okay" he says to her, Y/N jsut nods as he turns the water off and puts her in it.

15 minutes later, Y/N is dressed in clean pj's and back in her Daddy's arms, idly sucking on her thumb as she waits for her Daddy to change her bed sheets and to get her some medicine.

Soon Spencer comes back, he had some kids medicine to her to take and he had changed thr bed sheets into new ones. "Here you go sweetie" he says and gives the medicine for her to take, once she did he picked her back up again rocking back and forth.

"Feeling better baby?" He asks the sleepy 6 year old, it was almost 3am at this point. Y/N doesn't answer only nods her head falling onto her Dad shoulder thumb still in her mouth.

The man sighs quietly. "She's falling asleep again" he whispers to himself, checking the time he goes to his bedroom knowing she won't be letting go of his now, the two get under the covers.

Y/N tucked securely under his arm, Spencer kisses her forehead. "Good night baby" he mutters against her still warm head though not as warm as before. "Night Daddy" comes the sluggish voice of thr 6 year old.

Soen soon finds himself following his daughter into the land of dreams.

The end!

Hope you liked this oneshot, I definitely enjoyed writing this, as usual sorry for spelling and grammar mistakes.

Request are open!

Word count: 1308

[gumballavocadoharry]

Knocking on death's door:

*Mentions of serious medical problems, death, amputation, life support, angst, some very intense scenes and sadness.*

"Dad, I don't feel well," Young Nathan complained holding his head feverishly. Harry's concern lasted for seconds before his assumption of a sham hoax that his son concocted to skip school. "Really?" Harry feels Nathan head only to be met with amiss. Nathan's head was scorching like a furious volcano.

Harry gulped back a fretful concept before sending Nathan straight to bed with a bulky thermometer in his mouth. His temperature read an indefinite fever, but it wasn't too concerning as Nathan has had fevers before like the average kid right?

According to Nathan, his neck was stiff, he was incredibly sensitive to light and had a grim headache. Harry gathered warm clammy cloths and draped them gently over his 11 year old's forehead. He fretted that Nathan's symptoms meant something catastrophic that even Harry wouldn't be able to yank him away from the harsh claws of a cruel, possible death. He tried not to think about it; chewed on his pinky nail, a nervous habit he picked up from middle school whenever a bad grade conquered him.

It was the unusually high fever that made Harry anguished. Nathan was fine yesterday, doing his usual stunt moves that would brush Harry up from the dining room table and contest outside to scold him for such callous behavior. But that's just who Nathan was. His sprightly outlook kept Harry young. Oh Harry adored his cheeky vivid smile, and of course his olive green orbs full of magnetic appeal and adoration for his father, who would be extremely grateful for letting his little "slip ups" pass on.

So, naturally when Nathan slows down and starts feeling ill, Harry like any other loving parent gets worried. But never in his wildest imagination could Harry expect the already gloomish day to take a one-eighty. It was a close call towards evening, around 5:00 when Harry heard Nathan throwing up belligerently in the bathroom. Nathan, the kid with the cast iron stomach who never threw up (with the exception of being a baby) was now spilling his guts in the upstairs toilet.

Harry shot upstairs like a rocket and busted into the bathroom. And as if that wasn't alarming enough, Nathan described the room to be spinning and was falling in and out of consciousness. But the outsetter was Nathan finally lifting his pale face to Harry; his nose, chin, cheeks and part of his forehead were a lilac and jam purple mixed together.

Harry's heart stopped in that moment. There was no denying this was absolutely no flu. Harry picked Nathan up and broke every speed limit to get to the hospital. "I need a doctor!" He exclaimed, running inside with an unconscious Nathan in his arms. Doctors, nurses surrounded the two as the wheeled Nathan into the emergency room.

"His heart stopped," One of the nurses said while checking his heartbeat. "And I think his kidneys are next." Harry couldn't hold it back anymore, he burst into anguish sobs begging the medics to tell him what was wrong with his son. It killed it him twice to hear his son's organs were failing and therefore was being wheeled into the ICU. Doctors were shoving tubes down Nathan's throat, into his chest and sides just to stabilize him.

The words: "We don't know what's wrong with him," Shook him enough to erupt a chill into his spine. Harry was requested to wear a protective surgical covering with gloves and a face mask before entering his son's room. He was taken aback to the life support machines that pumping air, saline and other medications inside of him just to keep him alive.

"How?" Harry thought loudly. "How could this happen to him, he was healthy as a horse yesterday and now he's dying?!" A nurse put her arm around Harry's shoulder. "How is he?" She looked down and swallowed loudly before turning her troubled eyes back to Harry. "It's touch and go right now," She cleared her throat before continuing, guiding Harry into a separate room.

"The doctor said that he's lost of a lot of fluids and so we're pumping saline into him to keep him from going into another septic shock." Harry's eyes widened. "Another septic shock?" He mimicked.

"Nathan went into shock just a little after you came in, thank goodness you did. But um, his heart is still very weak but his lungs and kidneys have completely stopped. We're taking some blood now and a spinal tap. We're doing everything possible for him Mr. Styles." It was like a lightning slapped Harry cold in the face. The realization that subtly told him to prepare for the worst hit him harder than his breath that he still couldn't seem to find.

"Nathan," He sobbed, as the nurse kindly held his hand. The buzzing in his ears didn't stop, even when the doctor came up to Harry with Nathan's results. "Hello Mr. Styles, we have Nathan's results," Harry shot his head up almost gripping him with whiplash.

"Your son has bacterial meningococcal meningitis." Harry gulped back a permanent lump in his throat. "Is he going to be okay?" The doctor gave a sideways mouth. "We don't know yet. Right now he's stable but his lungs and kidneys have completely shut down, right now we're working on trying to at least restart his lungs and take it from there. We would like to do an MRI to see if there's anything else, but it's incredibly risky and he could die if we moved him."

Harry's red blurry eyes tried to comprehend all what was being said until his fortitude prompt him to ask the question he dreaded the most. "Is Nathan....going to die."

The doctor sighed. "We don't know. If he does survive, there's a chance he might have severe brain damage, loss of hearing or sight, amputation of his limbs or scarring. Right now he's already at kidney failure." Harry couldn't hold back his sorrowful tears. It was as if he was already morning the loss of his child. "May I see him?" The doctor traded looks with the nurse, before escorting Harry back into the room.

Harry almost gagged at his son's purplish legs. He prayed they wouldn't have to take them...if he survived that was. "He's a fighter Mr. Styles," Harry, still crying nodded his head. "I know. He's my tough cookie."

"Can I have a few minutes alone please?" The doctor nodded, before leaving the room in quietly.

"Nathan....if you can hear me....I just want you to know that I love you very much, and that no matter what happens, I'll always be with you," Harry choked. "And I'll never leave you." He quavered. The distant machine sounds of heart monitors, iv drips and the respiratory machine were background music to Harry, yet at the same time, he heard them clamorously pounding in his head and memory. Sounds he would never fully forget for the rest of his life. This was like a nightmare. It couldn't be real, his 11 year old boy was knocking on death's door at his tender age!

"Mr. Styles, we're going to take an MRI of Nathan now. We'll be back in a few minutes." While moving him, Harry caught site of Nathan's full on violet colored legs and hands. His eyes couldn't be moved from the unnerving chance that it was already a sign of nerve damage.

Septic shock is what rang like bells in the back of his minds. Harry couldn't help but watch his Nathan's gaunt body be accelerated to radiology. It was like his child was being snatched from his arms and thrown into an abyss that Harry, no matter how hard he tried, couldn't pull him out of it. He stabbed himself with harsh internal scouldings and mauled himself with guilt over thinking Nathan's sickness was some sort of tactic to skip class.

For goodness sake, the nurse said if Harry had waited any longer....Nathan would've been gone! I don't think would ever be able to fully admit to himself that his gut feeling was screaming at him otherwise the moment he felt Nathan's head. "Maybe if I had taken him in earlier, he wouldn't be in critical condition." Harry whispered to himself.

The doctor's came back, but this time with papers and without Nathan. Harry grew panicky. "Okay, we did an MRI and it showed us that Nathan's spleen is incredibly large and about to burst. We need to operate right away, time's a factor." The doctor handed Harry some forms to admit Nathan and for permission to operate. Harry shakingly signed them and watched as the doctor ran out and joined his surgical team.

It could've been hours that Harry sat in that waiting room, waiting for the doctor to update him on Nathan's fate. The clock struck 3:27, they had checked in at around 5:32 yesterday. It seemed like time was speeding like a bullet train, yet slowing down like a turtle compared to a rabbit.

Harry glanced to the corner to see the doctor coming out and taking his surgical hat off, before wiping his head from sweat. "Nathan's stable right now, but he's still unconscious. We removed his spleen just before it burst. He's still on life support though and we can't make an estimate of when he'll be off." Harry nodded, eyes crusted from all the tears he cried in the face of this nightmare.

"Okay," He gave a small response. The doctor flashed an empathic smile before escorting the father to his son's recovery room. Upon entering, seeing the huge machines and tubes that were going in and out of Nathan. "One thing about Nathan's condition, since he's in a coma right now....his body will have a better chance of fighting off the disease,"

Harry nodded. He caressed his son's cheek somberly. "Please, Nathan. Don't die. Please, don't die."

Part 2??????

[dandelionterminal]

Go go go

I will of course be finishing the plus size/chubby readers first and continue working on Cynari fic but I have lots of ideas.

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

you're a diver from Fontaine, one of the best in the entire Court, and are known far and wide for your ability to collect whatever resource people need- that's where most of your pay comes from, collecting beryl conches and romaritime flowers for jewelry, perfumes, and the like. but you also enjoy diving as a hobby, spending most of your time off in the water and enjoying the sights, your Vision allowing you to breathe easily under the waves. there's something about floating weightlessly in oceanic world that helps you feel so calm and at peace.

it's during one of these leisurely dives that you encounter something- or someone- incredible.

you won't lie, you were swimming too close to the Fortress of Meropide. yes, it's technically forbidden, but you couldn't help but investigate the deeper waters and caves around it after so long of staying away from the area! as long as you stayed away from the searchlights, no one would suspect a thing, so you swam down into the murky gloom. it's more difficult to see as you cautiously glance around, slightly on edge- until you come face-to-face with an oddly glowing light, seemingly emitting from a faceted crystal. you don't dare go towards it (you've had enough experience with ocean creatures to know it very well could be a lure), so instead it decides to come towards you, and an enormous slinking creature is revealed from the darkness. your blood runs cold, all instincts screaming to get away, run, but the monster merely chitters curiously, tilting his horned head and blinking at you quietly.

hesitantly, you raise a hand and wave, and the beast's singular eye widens in awe as he waves back.

you come back to visit the odd creature again and again after that day, becoming adept at avoiding the lights of Fontaine's prison. the monster- Childe, as he told you via carvings on the wall- was incredibly sweet despite his intimidating appearance, greeting you with a delighted chirp and a hug, always extremely gentle with you. he follows you as you explore, protecting you and bringing you trinkets that have sunk to the ocean floor, nudging your hands for head scritches. through his gestures and warbling tones you deduce that he lives in a cavern further below, one you refuse to go to- it makes your skin crawl, for some reason. rarely does Childe come to the surface, but occasionally he'll accompany you if he doesn't want to see you go, wrapping his scaled tail around your legs and whining until you give him a kiss on the forehead. he loves you, and you love him, and he was your special secret.

until you began to fall mysteriously ill, your breaths coming out short and ragged and your head filling with cotton clouds. at first you think it's just a common cold, but it doesn't go away, only getting worse over time. the doctors you visit don't seem to have a cure, merely telling you to rest until you feel better, which you never do, no matter how many hours you sit on the shore with Childe's head in your lap. his worry for you makes you feel a little happier, caressing his cheeks and whispering hoarsely to him as he whimpers, claws dancing over your cheeks in an attempt to hold you back. but it hurts and you cough again and again, growing weaker by the day for no reason other than fate's cruel story.

you don't know that Childe is a monster from the Primordial Sea, gradually wearing away at your strength and life, until it's too late.

[atrwriting]

future problems — coriolanus snow x fem!wife!reader

hi everyone :) jumping on the bandwagon

this man is so fine i couldn’t help myself. i hope everyone had an amazing holiday if they celebrate — i celebrate christmas, so here is my almost 10k word christmas gift to all of you xoxo love u all v much thank you for reading !!

as always, warnings: corio-lame-o is a fucking warning holy fuck, smuuuuut, arranged marriage (i think this counts?), coriolanus is a distrustful evil fuck (but he’s super hot), fem!reader, reader is married to this dickhead (i say as if i wouldn’t want to be lmao), angst, sexism and misogyny is def in here, p in v penetration, m receiving oral, choking, dom!corio, asshole!corio, sub!reader, subspace kinda

informal warnings: bro what the fuck was i on this is literally 10.2k words and i refuse to edit because im super lazy anyway we die like men you've been warned

anyways… here is future problems:

he never wanted to get married.

he saw it as a potential problem, one that would most definitely lead to loose ends — and he hated loose ends.

despised them.

however, his innate need to maintain an image was far more important to him. he weighed the costs and benefits in his head like an algorithm — check, check, check. coriolanus’ mind left no stone unturned, especially when future problems were to be squashed before they could ever be wiped from memory. in the end… he decided he would marry.

and it would be you.

he never allowed himself to be naive — so he would never allow himself to marry someone he already loved. lucy gray? a child’s want for something they can’t have, and something they wouldn’t realize until later that it was a walking regret. no — he could never marry someone that would harm him. absolutely not. out of the question. therefore, it had to be you.

it had to be you because what harm would you cause him? you were shy, quiet, of satisfactory social standing, and uncontroversial. everything a patriarch of the snow family would want. deserved. be entitled to.

he needed someone that wouldn’t be a problem — a loose end in the future. he had conquered so much — he refused to let anything else, especially as irrelevant as a significant other, stand in his way.

however… it did not aid him in his stone-cold lack of a love affair conquest that you were absolutely breathtaking.

at first, it was just an ego boost. he simply couldn’t stop his thoughts from voicing, of course she’s perfect. the snow legacy can only have perfect.

but then… oh, then…

then he saw your smile.

oh, your smile.

your fucking smile.

the first time he caught himself enjoying it — he scolded himself. he refused to see you for a week. a punishment of sorts. more so for him than for you. after, he refused to let his eyes wander on the pretty features of your face for him to witness a reaction to something someone had said or done. he didn’t want to be reminded of what it was like to experience joy or peace because someone else was experiencing it — that was what almost costed him everything he had built.

no one would ever tear that down. not again, not ever.

no one.

when the day of your marriage came, it was business as usual. he refused to meet eye contact, and did not partake in more conversations with you than he had to. he could tell you felt uncomfortable — but he forced himself not to care. he drove it down, down, down like a miner drilling for more coal — hoping, one day, it would be worth it.

and it was… until he was sick.

it was a minor ailment — nothing major, but he was on bedrest for about a week or two. he had employed enough adequate members to his staff to feel that things would at least be taken care of until then. he also found comfort in the fact that two weeks was not long enough for something irreversible to occur. if a problem had taken placed, he would be able to rectify it once he was well and able and… set aside the responsible party.

however, he did not expect one problem.

and that would be you.

he knew you were asking to see him. he knew, he knew, he knew, but he refused to let you in. you were not disrespectful — you had only asked once a day, which happened to be every day in the afternoon. he had picked you specifically because you were too quiet to be annoying. however, his own perfect, pristine, and proper plan had stabbed him in the back. he had never considered that the perfect, pristine, and proper wife would be this dutiful to him, checking in once a day on his condition and to speak with him. despite his illness, he laughed at himself — leave it to him to not expect the expected: the hand-selected dutiful wife would, in fact, be dutiful.

he had to put an end to it. he couldn’t keep saying no for another week. how was he expected to get better if you kept bothering him?

so he let you in. this once. just this once. he reasoned that if he let you in this once, you would be less persistent. just this once — and another problem would cease to plague his mind.

just this once, he chanted in his head. just this once.

he sat up straighter, and attempted to shape his hair so it wasn’t terribly unkept. he reasoned that if you saw him appearing to be healthy, you wouldn’t feel the need to come back. he thought —

but he couldn’t finish the thought.

because you walked in.

smelling like fucking lilacs.

lilacs, of all things. lilacs! not roses, not anything else — lilacs. he did not hate lilacs, but he despised the actual flower. only beautiful for so long before it died and the stench was intolerable. an inconvenience. a nuisance. a guaranteed future problem.

however, when you gifted him with a small smile — you realized why small shows of beauty were so valuable in this world. no one else saw your smile — except for those closest to you. people he hand selected to be around you to prevent future problems. he realized then — he had more control and ownership over your smile than either of you thought.

he was so stunned by your smile he didn’t even notice the tray of tea and cakes in your hand. you took a few steps towards him and he shifted in place.

“i brought your favorites,” you spoke softly. “i know you should rest — i just wanted to ask if there was anything i could do to make your recovery easier.”

“no, thank you,” he replied, voice raspy. “i should be well in a few days.”

you nodded and offered an uneasy smile. his eyes flickered over to how once you had set down the tray on his beside, you slowly wiped the palm of your hands down the front of your dress. your eyes were cast absentmindedly in front of you, on the wall — and he could tell something was plaguing your thoughts.

he then also realized there was a book on the tray, much to his dismay.

“someone had mentioned that this was your favorite author. this was published a few days ago,” you began. “i understand that you have been experiencing headaches, and may find it difficult to read… so i wanted to offer to read aloud for you, in case you found these walls dull.”

you smiled — it was an attempt at a joke. he smiled back, but only to be polite. “today i find myself wanting to sleep. i appreciate your offer.”

you smoothed your hands over your dress once more before nodding and forcing a smile. “i’ll leave you to it, then.”

you did not bid him farewell — and he found himself wondering if he was annoyed or grateful. you simply exited the room, and let the door shut softly behind you.

he scrunched his eyes at the door, swallowing hard.

however, he didn’t understand why.

he had wanted this. the perfect wife — knowing when to take a hint and frankly, fuck off. you had done that, perfectly well — so why was he pissed?

he then found himself glaring angrily at his favorite tea cakes. the swap of sugar for honey, another one of his favorites. his favorite author, a book he was excited to read when he was better. he knew that you hadn’t asked about him — he employed people with the requirement to let him know when you were asking questions. he knew your every outward thought and concern, and sometimes even the ones that weren’t shared aloud because they were so evident on your face.

and then he realized: you noticed things like he noticed things.

however, he knew why he went out of his way to notice things, but why did you?

his jaw clenched as he glared angrily at the wall in front of him. he picked up a tea cake and chewed it aggressively, swallowing it half-intact. he coughed at the barely there food, anger rising further to his flushed cheeks.

he needed to understand how, and he most certainly needed to understand why.

he never went out of his way to get to know you, because he thought he already did. he thought he had you boiled down to one thing, and one thing only: passive. incapable of proving to be any sort of roadblock that was capable of getting in his way. now that he knew you shared something with him, what else was shared? was there something he had to look out for? was there something he missed? was he wrong about you?!

he had to know. he had to.

to do that… he called you back that evening. it was two hours before midnight, and he knew you were awake. despite having separate chambers, he knew your daily schedule. you would be reading at this moment, and he would ask you to read for him.

as if on cue, he heard a soft rapping on the wood of the door. he beckoned you in, and you entered the room. you were clad in a night dress with a matching robe over it, all pink silk. this time, he returned your smile.

"i apologize for the late hour," he spoke. "i hope you had not retired for the night."

you shook your head, your tendrils of perfect hair shaking slightly. "i was reading. i am glad you sent for me — can i get you anything?"

"i was hoping the offer to read for me was still on the table," he rasped. "i find myself unable to sleep."

you blinked once, staring at him. in an instant, a small smile was threatening to overtake your face into a large one. you cast your eyes down to a blushing manner, but his eyes narrowed slightly on your face. what would you get out of reading for him? what we he not seeing? what did he miss?

"of course," you responded. "i have not had a chance to read anything by this author. i am glad i have the chance now."

why. why. why.

he did not show his discontent. he simply rested back against the pillows as you reached for the book on his bedside table. you sat down on a chair on his side, and you crossed your legs. he eyed the small portion of the exposed, soft skin of your legs and wondered if your new ploy would be to try and seduce him. however, you quickly covered your skin with the extra material over your robe and placed the book in your lap. once opened, you read for him.

he was not listening to what you were saying, but he was listening to how you said it. the tone, the enunciation, the pauses, and the speed. he wanted to find some clue as to why you had made it a point to be at his beck and call, and he wanted to see how long the act would last until it dropped.

the act would drop. it always did.

the hour would approach midnight before he found that he could not discern anything from how you were reading aloud. his plan did not yield the results intended, as you had not broken from fulfilling his task for two hours. two hours. you had not stopped out of boredom or exhaustion, nor to talk to him. you were poised, soft, and he hated to admit it... but sweet. he found your voice sweet, and he hated it.

and he fucking hated himself for it.

he needed this to end so he could plan further. out of necessity, he yawned. if you were to apt at picking up clues, then hopefully you would believe that he was finally tired. you had succeeded in his given task, and you were free to go.

but you had kept reading for him.

he grew angry.

when you had paused to breathe, he spoke up. "I think i am able to sleep now. thank you, sweetheart, for indulging me."

your eyeline raised with your eyebrows, almost out of surprise. you either were not expecting him to ask you to stop, or you did not want to stop. he wondered which, and if that would answer his ultimate question.

"my apologies, i should've inquired sooner," you replied. "he is a very talented writer... i found myself enjoying his perspective."

you grabbed a piece or scrap paper from his bedside table, and tucked it in between the pages where you left off.

"most people would fold the corner," he remarked, eyes drifting closed — a show.

you smiled. "i didn't want to ruin the integrity of your book. goodnight, coriolanus."

she left with another smile — and all he was left with was confusion, and rage.

the next morning, he found himself wanting to call you back in for a further rouse interview. he would have if he had a plan in place.

that was the second thing about you that annoyed him: you annoyed him to the point where he wanted to act without a plan in place. a loss of control —which he was highly against.

that would have to be righted immediately.

he spent the morning reading the pages that you had already read to brief himself as if he was listening last night. he reasoned with himself that the best course of action would be to ask you to read to him again to see if you had grown comfortable enough to let a few of your true colors slip.

they always slip.

the sudden task that was presented to him gave him a new bout of energy that he needed to inch closer to recovery. it gave him the push he needed to be closer to walking out of this room and continue to run panem, and he was lost grateful to you for giving it to him — almost. at the moment, you were a problem — and that needed to be corrected. immediately.

he found comfort in control, so he was very content with routines. he had grown accustomed to bracing himself for your check-in in the afternoon. however, it did not come until the approaching hours of the evening had almost descended upon the capitol. he waited, and waited, and waited — so long that he considered asking you to come for himself. the hour would approach dinnertime when you had finally asked about his well-being, and he sent for you.

how dare you ask so late in the day, as if you didn't care? he allowed you access to his life that he had denied you for so long, and you return his kindness with carelessness? this would not do. this most certainly would not do.

you had knocked on his door, and he had to stop himself from sounding to eager. he permitted you entry, and you entered with the same soft smile.

"good evening," you greeted.

"hello," he replied, voice still raspy from his sickness.

"I wanted to ask if you need anything," you announced.

he offered a small smile. "i enjoyed our time last night. perhaps you would read for me, again?"

your eyes fell to the floor in a blush. "of course. I was hoping to read more of the book eventually. i found it intriguing."

you sat down in the chair and pulled the book in your lap. as you were opening it, he spoke, "i thought when you had not checked-in in the early afternoon you found the book dull — afraid i would ask for you to read it for me again."

you shook your head as you smiled. "i like his writing very much — i was concerned as to whether i had prevented you from sleeping the night prior, and didn't want to disturb you further."

he swallowed. "why would you have disturbed me?"

your eyes glanced upwards from the pages to rest on his face. coriolanus stared back as slight concern washed over your features, making your lips part and your eyes widen. your tongue darted out from between your lips, and smoothed over the skin of your bottom lip. you responded, "before you fell ill, we hadn't spent much time together and i understand that is because of your position — but, to be frank, i wanted to respect your space.”

your answer perplexed coriolanus. he wanted to find out what type of person you were — and your answers were not yielding the expected results. there was no obvious form of manipulation in your words, which then worried him. were you smarter than he believed you to be? were you as cunning as him? more so?

so he went with what was natural: manipulation.

“i apologize my station has not granted us the freedom to get to know each other further,” he replied, holding your gaze. “it is a regret of mine.”

you smiled in an affirmative manner, like you didn’t believe him but accepted his answer anyway. this expression arose the same feelings he now detested your presence for: he acted without calculating his actions and the outcome they would produce.

“what troubles you?” he asked.

your lips parted and slightly quivered. you were not expecting him to ask.

“i-i was worried that i may not… please you,” you admitted. “that… you may regret our union.”

“you have been a kind and dutiful wife,” coriolanus spoke, eyes holding yours. “there is no regret.”

there was that affirmative smile again. he found himself hating it — wishing it would be replaced by the warm, soft one.

“i guess i was hoping that, when i was married, the marriage would be more than… a union.”

your candor shocked coriolanus. he would never have expected you to say something… so out of turn.

“please, forgive me,” you spoke, slightly laughing and waving your hand in the air. “the hour is almost late and i was hoping to read more. do you still wish me to?”

“please,” he answered and nodded.

you gave him a quick, thankful smile, and began reading.

this would be the second night coriolanus had not listened to a word you had said.

he had gotten his answer, and it was possibly as bad as the one he was actually afraid for.

you were good. pure, innocent, and your outlook on the world untainted. you were not striving to find a loose screw and let the empire fall. you wanted… to support the man who built and kept the empire together. it was worse than anything he could’ve ever imagined — you actually cared for him.

you cared for him, and now coriolanus snow was fucking terrified.

and yet... he had asked you to return to his chambers every night after that.

for research purposes, of course. only research purposes,

to read to him, but his goal was to learn more about you rather than the text.

you would sit there and read until he asked you to stop. when he did, you would close the book, smile at him, place it back on his nightstand, and bid him goodnight.

after, he would wrestle with the blankets and pillows in order to find out how to deal with this.

how had he not expected this?

his only fault was that he neglected to realize how far your shyness would go. you had grown comfortable with him — and you admitted that you wanted something more, something he always felt he could not give. you weren’t shy — you just weren’t open with people you weren’t comfortable with.

he should’ve known. he should’ve. fucking. known.

he didn’t know how to deal with this, if he was being honest with himself.

he told himself that he asked for you every evening to get to know you better, for his own sanity and safety; but then he began to realize he had found out everything he needed to know.

good and honest. how fucking unfortunate.

he saw a part of you, but now he needed to know more.

so what did he do? he sent you flowers. flowers. an arrangement of red roses and lilacs.

he hated himself for the lilacs.

he got somewhere with you when he had made the first move before — maybe this would yield more promising results.

however, it didn’t.

all he received in return was an extra tray of food that had arrived in the afternoon. his favorite tea cakes, and a handwritten thank-you note detailed in your appreciation for the beautiful flowers. you signed your name, and that was it.

she doesn’t make first moves, he thought. she responds to them.

he knew what he had to do.

he found himself feeling better that day — well enough to end his sick leave and return to his matters. dinner was approaching, and he sent for you to join him for a private dinner this evening.

he was washed, dressed, and coiffed within the hour.

he found you in the dining parlor waiting for him, inspecting his large bookcase. you were trying to reach a book a bit above where your height would allow, extending yourself onto your toes. coriolanus walked up behind you, towering over you, and retrieved the book for you.

you glanced up at him with wide eyes. “thank you, coriolanus.”

“what intrigued you?” he asked, grinning softly.

“first one i couldn’t reach. i was working my way up.” you smiled at him, and then the book. “please — you must be hungry. let us eat.”

you sat down at the table across from him. dinner manners were rather stiff and uncomfortable, but your upbringing that was similar to coriolanus’ prevented you from straying from them. you ate in silence for a few moments before you spoke.

“how do you like his new book?” you asked.

coriolanus cleared his throat. “i find it riveting. i wouldn’t have been able to read it for some time if it hadn’t been for you.”

you smiled at your plate, blushing. “his points are very interesting. i was never very interested in politics — so the insight of someone so heavily involved with them is very informative. do you find that your opinions align with his? or does he not share your perspective?”

he appreciated your willingness to engage with him about topics you weren’t very fond of. an underrated trait, not found very often — he had to admit.

“a bit of both,” he responded. “the one thing he does not discuss is how important it is to have a certain type of person or persons in your regime that allows the flow of success to continue.”

you nodded. “you have built a strong administration — i’m sure he would admire what you have to say.”

“what do you believe?” he asked. “about partnerships?”

you swallowed, contemplating your answer. “i think… a successful partnership is where everyone is complimented by another. for instance, someone is better at briefing documents rather than the presentation of them, and another is the opposite.”

“which one are you?” coriolanus inquired.

you paused once more, folding your lip under. he realized that was a sign you were uncomfortable — unaware of how to proceed. after a moment, you answered, “i feel the most confident under a strong leader. i prefer to be behind the scenes. minute details are easier to be taken care of that way. while you and i are different, i respect you for being the strong leader panem needed. i am sure the majority would agree with me.”

now was the time.

“it is easy to be strong when one’s wife makes sure they are well,” he replied, eyes resting on your face. “i hope you know i appreciate your willingness to accept change and make sure needs are met.”

you smiled at him once more, then turned back to your food.

damn, he thought. didnt bite.

“and for being the companion i… didn’t think i would come to enjoy the company of,” he added.

you glanced up at him then, astonishment written in your eyes as plain as the words on the paper you read for him every night. “may i ask you… a question?”

he nodded.

“did you believe you wouldn’t enjoy my company before, or after you had first met me?”

“i don’t understand.”

you swallowed, clearing your throat. “were you… wary of the idea of marriage, or wary of me?”

your gaze did not break from his. you were braver than he thought.

“marriage,” he answered honestly, hoping to witness your reaction.

there was the affirmative smile — the one he hated. “thank you for — for being honest.”

your eyes didn’t wait for a response. you turned back to your food, and left him dumbstruck.

“i hope i have not displeased you,” he stated.

“no, coriolanus,” you spoke. “if i am being honest… i was wary i would not be suitable for you. if i have not displeased you, then i am well.”

“but you stated you wanted more,” he countered, tone even.

“i hoped we would… spend time together,” you answered. “and we have.”

it was coriolanus’ turn to be at a loss for words. what would this admission relay? it only solidified what he was afraid of — you wanted a marriage filled of love, and he was not prepared for that. ever.

“the flowers were beautiful,” you spoke, interrupting his thoughts. “thank you for sending them.”

“your lilac perfume is a wonderful addition to the capitol,” he spoke, unsure where this had come from. “i wanted you to know that.”

you weren't supposed to say that you weren't supposed to tell the truth you weren't supposed

you smiled at him appreciatively, that accompanied a slight twinkle in your eye. you were quick to return to eating, but coriolanus couldn’t stop staring at your face. he realized then that was his new favorite smile.

there was a moment, a small moment, where he wondered whether it would be such a crime if he did allow himself to enjoy your company more than he had. in that moment, he couldn’t think of how it would go wrong. for that moment, you were a simple, low-maintenance, beautiful woman on the other side of the table with him that just liked spending time with him — and he enjoyed that you weren’t a problem. would it so bad if he entertained the idea?

he immediately cut himself off. of course it was a bad idea.

once dinner has finished, he had requested to walk you back your chambers. if time spent together was what kept you at bay, he could manage that. he most certainly could.

when the pair of you had approached the door, you stopped for a moment and paused reaching for the handle. you spoke, “would you… like to come in?”

“not tonight,” he rasped. he gave you a polite smile. “another time.”

he watched as you blinked your eyes a few times and your lips quivered. you didn’t meet his gaze, for it fell — in what appeared to be embarrassment.

oh.

you invited him in to… to…

that he had not expected.

before you had the chance to leave, he swooped down and grabbed your chin in his thumb and forefinger. he pressed his lips to yours ever so softly, holding it there. the moment your breath caught in your throat, there was a strange feeling inside his chest that made him feel like he’d like to quell your worries by catching you off guard another time. and another. and another. and another. he couldn’t have you feeling rejected, no — not when he didn’t want to reject you. he needed heirs, sure — but they could wait. he would contemplate how long later.

once he pulled back, you smiled. inside you were bursting, and you wanted to hurry behind a closed door so he could not see your reaction. he continued to hold your chin and gaze at your face. feeling brave, you looked him in the eye as you bid him goodnight and went into your room.

you left him standing outside your door, facing its wood paneling.

what was he to do?

he wanted to keep you as emotionally far away as possible to avoid anything like this occurring. he was prepared for people who had an ulterior motive… not a young woman who only wanted to be good to her husband.

the worst part was… not every part of him wanted him to keep you away.

would it be so bad, if he had actually courted you?

you were not anyone from his past, no. you were not irresponsible and impulsive, and you could be trusted to remain within a designated role and space. you were rarely outspoken — you never strayed from your cue cards, nor did you get smart in private. you never spoke out of turn, which coriolanus always knew — this was just the first time he was more turned on than he was just grateful.

he reasoned a reward was in order.

he found his knuckles wrapping on the door before he could stop himself.

the small movements inside your apartments stalled for a moment, pulled taut like a string in an instrument. he could picture you — standing still and silent, waiting for an explanation.

then he heard footsteps approaching the door before the door handle turned. when you opened the door, the first thing he saw was your eyes.

those big, beautiful eyes that looked at him with surprise — and the slightest bit of hope. coriolanus would most likely try to convince himself that he stayed completely still to exercise a form of control over you — but deep down, he would never be able to believe that completely.

however… when you reached out with your soft, delicate hand, and pulled at his own — it didn’t matter why he did it, because he won.

he shut the door behind him, keeping your gaze.

“i would be coy and ask if we could spend time together in a... different way than usual…” you began, sighing. “but up until this moment i was convinced we would never…”

coriolanus was in no mood to quell insecurities and anxieties. he understood that words could not compare to actions, and so he would do just that.

coriolanus stepped forward, and pressed his large hands against the sides of your face. for a split moment — you almost looked terrified. he usually relished in that look from others, but with you it only made him concerned — angry, even.

“i don’t know what it is about you.” his voice was shaky. it was the first moment in your entire marriage that coriolanus had shown even a shred of weakness. “you smile, you obey, you take my transgressions like they’re fucking sweets. why?! tell me!”

your big, round eyes were blown wide as your brow was knitted together. your lips were parted in an innocent manner, and it only fueled his anger. one of your hands came up to gently lay across the back of his. “coriolanus — have you ever considered that i just wanted to get to know you?”

his eyes searched yours like they were an important document and he couldn’t believe what bullshit he was reading. his lips pursed in a manner that suggested a sour taste, and you felt your joy slipping, slipping, and slipping.

“coriolanus — if you want to go, then go.” your voice was breaking. you knew he was a cool, hard man — but this? this? it was almost too much. “you don’t have to stay if you don’t —“

he couldn’t take your nonsense anymore. he shut you up with a kiss.

he smashed your lips together like it was the first thing he should’ve done when he walked back into the room. a squeal died in your throat at the contact, but coriolanus held you there and upright. both of your hands found the firmness of his chest for balance. when he pulled away — he barely did. he kept his lips an inch away from yours as little tuffs of air pushed past. he leaned his forehead against yours, almost bonding the two of you.

“my greatest displeasure will be making you regret this,” he rasped, eyes screwed shut.

your breathing began to hasten as you contemplated your next words. you began to stroke coriolanus’ hands with your thumbs, hoping to coax him. “you say that like it’s inevitable.”

“it is not far from,” he choked through anger and sadness.

you couldn’t help but stare back at him as he almost glared at you — but then you realized that wasn’t the case. he wasn’t glaring at you — he was glaring through you. whatever traumatized him, whatever made him so distrustful of the world around him and the people in it… you realized then that you represented all of that to him. you had to be different. you had to show him that you were different than all of that.

“i’ve trusted you,” you whispered, almost pleading. “i would like for you to try and trust me. please, coriolanus… i’ve never asked you for anything — just this once —“

coriolanus shook his head, dismissing you. “it’s corio.”

he slammed his lips to yours. his kiss was that of a fight; burning with every cut of anger, frustration, desperation, and sadness in his soul. you weren’t sure if he accounted for your inexperience, but you let him lead as you swallowed all of his suffering. you knew you may never be everything you wanted to be for him — but for this moment, or for whatever he would allow — you could be his escape, and he could be yours.

just this once, you both thought. just this once.

his hands were on both sides of your face, caging you in as you were at the mercy of his bittersweet affection. you tried to keep up with him, almost afraid that you wouldn’t be enough for him — but corio didn’t care. he couldn’t have cared less as he backed you into the foot of the bed. he didn’t stop kissing you as the back of your legs hit your soft mattress, and you were forced to sit down.

with his tongue tangling with yours, you managed to lift your hands to the top buttons of his shirt. he batted your hands away and went to work on his own buttons. you reached behind for your zipper to your dress and attempted to undue it.

corio then pushed your hands away with that too — ripping the zipper down its track and pushing the sleeves down your shoulders.

“corio —“ you gasped through the kiss, struggling to keep up with him.

he pulled away for a short moment, staring into your eyes. “i have denied myself being with you for so long — nothing is stopping me now.”

he held the glare, and you could only stare back at him in fright. however, that was when you realized that he had felt the same way, or at least similar — you both wanted each other, and had been scared to approach the other. your heart filled with warmth, threatening to explode, but all you could do was nod.

he seemed to calm down then, glancing down towards your lips where he prodded your bottom lip with the tip of his numb. “i have wondered for so long what it would be like to kiss my perfect wife — and now that i know, i don’t think i’ll ever give it up.”

you smiled at that. “can i tell you what i have been wondering?”

his eyes met yours once more, almost a warning. you didn’t falter, though. he replied, “yes?”

“i’ve wondered what it would be like to please you,” you spoke softly, a pink hue rising to your cheeks.

his flat look broke then, softening. a smirk greeted his features and you could see his confidence in himself rise. “my lovely wife wants to please me?”

“yes,” you spoke, holding your breath. “if you’ll let me.”

bright and striking, flames of mischief came to light in his irises. emotions of excitement and fear rose within you, and you weren’t sure which was stronger. all you could do was watch as your strong, powerful, larger than life husband stood over you, chin raised, looking down his nose at you, as he unbuckled his belt. his pants and briefs, once around his ankles, were discarded — but you didn’t see that. you couldn’t look away from his eyes — holding you, and your gaze, in place.

it was like you were an enemy he was testing. you didn’t know what he expected, let alone what would make him happy — but you hoped his expectations were slightly lower in light of your inexperience. you swallowed the hard rock of nervousness in your throat, stood up, and gestured for him to sit down on the edge of the bed. he raised an eyebrow at you, but complied. you sat down on your knees in between his, and waited patiently for direction.

“can you…” you began. “can you teach me?”

he smirked once more. “take me in your hand.”

you bent your head lower, and grabbed him by the base. he was hard and warm in your hand as you saw him trying to fight the twitching feeling in his limbs. his muscles were tight, afraid to show weakness. you grew uncomfortable — you didn’t want him weak, but you did want him to feel comfortable enough with you to enjoy a fucking blowjob.

holding his muscle upright, you stuck your tongue out and licked around the tip of his cock. he was salty, but smelled so masculine after a long day. his scent infiltrated all of your senses and had captured your attention. it made you hungry, greedy — so much so that you closed your lips around his cock and began to suck.

he jumped then. “teeth,” he spat.

you paled in embarrassment and fright — but didn’t allow your fear to show for long. you adjusted your tongue and lips — so that your top lip was folded under your top set, and your outstretched tongue covered your bottom set. hollowing out your cheeks, you took him into your mouth once more.

a low hum filled his chest.

you couldn’t see him, and could barely hear him — corio was being a selfish lover and not letting you know whether or not he was enjoying himself. he told you once before you were doing something wrong, so you tried to trust that he would tell you.

that was easier said than done, frankly. with your free hand, you reached up and began to massage his sack in the soft skin of your palm. the hum in his chest turned deeper and louder, and you felt his hips twitch once.

maybe it shouldn't have mattered that he wasn't vocal — but it wasn't like he was shy. you would not fault him for not doing something he didn't want to do, but it was like he was denying you that. if you were making him feel good, and he was fighting the volume of his moans — how fucking dare he deny you of that! there you were, constantly at his beck and call, and he couldn't even freely moan with you? you were obedient, quiet, grateful, everything he wanted — but this? this? too much. absolutely too much of an ask.

you had to do something.

"mr. president," you cooed, twisting your soft tongue around the tip of his cock. "you're awfully quiet above me."

he let out a laugh as he struggled to keep his composure. one of hands found the back of your head as his fingers struggled to tangle themselves in between your strands. they were tugging and pulling, but there was no strength in his grip. his grip — wouldn't catch. couldn't catch. corio, you husband — struggled day in and day out to keep the control in the capital and inside his castle. there was a part of you that believed he just needed to let go, let someone else be in control — but you were his pretty little wife after all. you had until death to try everything. losing control could wait, because tonight... tonight was about making corio the grateful one for once.

you let your loose grip run circles up and down the length of his cock. his shaft was wet and thick, begging the attention of the light from above so the skin was able to glisten. the tip of his cock, red and angry, almost neglected — never had you seen something so delicious, nor deserving of affection. your lips, swollen, wrapped themselves around the tip of his cock as you sucked. notes of salt and sweat mixed together on your tongue, and you hummed at the taste.

"taste sweet, mrs. snow?" you heard from above you. your eyes glanced up to find corio's eyes glazed over with pleasure. his eyelids were drooping over, and all you could think about how badly you wanted to make him close his eyes in bliss. your eyes watched his eyes, but his eyes watched the way your mouth sucked him in. "being so good for me. let your husband see what else you can do."

your ears perked in interest. you didn't know what he meant, but you were intrigued to see if he would teach you.

"please... show me what you like," you spoke, extending your neck as he lowered his face to yours.

"so eager to please..." he spoke, staring down at you in awe. his hand slid down for your scalp to cup your cheek. he looked into your eyes like he was studying you — searching for something surface level. a flaw, or something good... you weren't sure. "i suppose some would say i'm lucky."

you didn't like the sound of that... but you didn't let it show. you gave him a hint of a smile. "i don't think it matters what anyone else thinks. i think what matters is you telling me what you like... so you can decide if you're lucky or not."

he chuckled at that, but his laugh was reserved. always holding back, your husband. "you really want to be a good little wife for me... don't you?"

you fell into the strength behind the hand on your face and keened into his touch. his hand was warm against your skin. "please, corio... please let me."

he stood then, and your gaze raised with his body. you gazed up at him as he stared down at you. there his eyes went again — searching yours. he stood closer to you then, bending down slightly. "it would please me if, at any point, you told me to stop because of the pain. i don't want to hurt you." his voice was low and soft then, immediately striking you. "can i trust you to do that? hmm?"

"i'll tell you," you replied, nodding your head. "i promise."

"never break a promise you make to me," he warned.

you nodded your head once more, unsure how to proceed. he led you over to the side of the bed where he gestured for your to lie down. with the passing of time, you became more and more aware of how bare you both were in front of each other. you were ready to let down every fence of insecurity for the man before you... but there were still walls of his that threatened to come down. he was hot and cold every other moment, it seemed... and you weren’t even sure where to begin.

“husband,” you spoke, unsteadily, as he found his place between his legs. “you seem so… distrustful of me. what can i do? please, corio, i just want this moment to be special for us — for you.”

there his eyes went — searching yours again. it was like he was rereading a page in a book over and over, hoping to find the hidden message in the black and white scripture. his eyes, going back and forth, appeared to be looking over unclear smudges and scribbles as his lips began to purse. you almost said something — stopped him from withdrawing into himself, but he moved before you could.

he sat back against the pillows, which faced a mirror across your bed. you rose curiously, hoping that he would finally give you some direction. he simply took your hand in his, and gestured for you to come closer. “come,” he spoke.

in his lap, maybe? you thought curiously. you went to throw your leg over his, before he stopped you. with a furrowed brow, you watched as he adjusted you so your back laid against his chest.

“do as i say,” he whispered against your ear, sending shivers up and down your spine.

your eyes were cast to the side, his outline in your peripheral vision. you nodded, letting your lips fall apart. you felt one of his hands on the soft skin of your thigh, grazing upwards towards your hips. you almost let your eyes fall closed, hoping to lose yourself in the sensations, before corio stopped you.

with that same hand, he reached upwards and grasped your chin between his fingers. your eyes shot open as he moved your head to now face the mirror, and the pair of you in it.

shallow breaths were pushing past your lips as you stared into the mirror. your cheeks were flushed, your hair in a slight disarray, and your lips were swollen. with a flutter of your eyelashes, your gaze flickered towards corio’s reflection. your husband was always perfect — so even the slight persuasion from tidiness was a remarkable sight to you. his eyes were focused — unable to remain cool, calm, and collected as usual.

his eyes, you thought. his eyes will always tell me.

“you will watch,” corio spoke suddenly, voice hard. “you will keep your eyes on my hands. you stray, and i leave. understand?”

you nodded, looking into his eyes through the mirror.

he cocked an eyebrow.

“yes,” you spoke, almost breathless. “i understand.”

corio’s hand then found its way to your center. the tips of his finger tips, soft and hot, lightly drew a line up and down your slit. your eyes wouldn’t leave the mirror — focused on his fingertips. it was like your skin knew every correct button to tap, tap, tap. every part of you was so sensitive, so keen to his touch that you were embarrassed. you felt so pathetic against his chest, bent to his will — but you wouldn’t have had it any other way. the voice in your head was whining and hoping you would give in, just give in, let down your guard, give in, forget manners. you wanted to keep your composure as long as possible, but when corio’s middle finger found your clit…

oh… you were done for.

one of your hands immediately snapped up to find corio’s bicep and clutch onto whatever foundation he could give. you didn’t dare let your eyes meet his, even in the mirror — what if he stopped? what, huh? what then? when you were the closest you had been ever? you couldn’t allow yourself to be greedy, not when he was being oh, so selfless.

the circles he was drawing taunted your ability remain calm. he rolled your tiny clit underneath the weight of the tip of his finger and pressed down with every circle. it pushed, and pulled, and fucking pried at every fiber of your being. you could only force yourself up and back against corio, whining like a pathetic mess.

“running away from me, my sweet?” he whispered in your ear. “when i’m being so kind?”

his words bit at your ear, reminding you of your position in his world. your eyes were threatening to drift closed, hoping, praying, that corio would let you slip this once from your responsibilities. naive, you were, to believe that.

“remember our deal, wife,” he darkly cooed in your ear. “one request was all i had. i refuse to be denied it.”

“i know, i know…” you whined, rolling your hips with his hand. “it just feels so good, corio… i’ve never… no one’s ever…”

“i can tell you never knew how bad your body would crave it,” he spoke, nipping at your earlobe. “even your pussy obeys me, drenching my fingers. too sweet for this world, aren’t you?”

“just wanna be sweet for you, corio,” you whined as your vision began to blur.

the approaching orgasm was anything but a warm and fuzzy feeling around you. it was hot and jagged — making your muscles jerk, yet force your hips to roll into every movement of corio’s. the cloud over your brain felt like a warm haze of the finest whisky or tobacco the capital could offer. you were numb, drunk, and unable to process the world around you unless it was corio. his touch, his taste, his scent, his look, his orders… everything was setting you off and keeping you in place all at once. your body was hot to the touch, feverish as it tried to fight your sophistication and just fucking —

“that’s it, sweetheart. so focused on the mirror you can’t even find the strength to let go for me,” he spat, pressing a kiss to your cheek and breathing in your scent. “ride my hand like the good girl you are. you wanted to show me, remember?”

tears were brimming your eyes and blurring your vision. your teeth were gritted and bared for him. one of his hands came up to loosely grasp your throat as your hips began to spasm. it was so much, too much, so much —

“corio, please —“ you cried. “please let me look away. i can’t — i have to cry, i can’t —“

there was no softness in his movements against your aching clit. corio had now employed two fingers to dip into your core, collect your slick, and rub it along your sensitive bud in harsh circles. it sent your mind through a suffocating tube and gasping for air. you were begging, pleading — unsure what would happen if you were denied the ability to finish in peace. you began to cry in frustration and fear, so sensitive to the touch and his approval.

“corio…” you whimpered. “please, please let me…”

“do it,” he spat, holding your throat and kissing your face. “show your husband how fucking messy you can be for him.”

you grasped onto him and threw yourself back.

it was like a rollercoaster. twists and turns, yanking your body every which way. corio’s body rocked with yours as the sensations climbed and fit into every single one of your limbs. your lungs, burning, were screaming for air as you tried to fight for consciousness. the world was white, milky, foggy — unable to navigate, let alone exist in. all you could feel was corio’s body moving with yours and coaxing you through the most insane moment of your entire life.

tears fell down your face, and you struggled to conceal it. corio refused to let you hide from him. he bent his face low to yours and pressed the side of his face against the side of yours.

his breaths were heavy, similar to yours.

“corio…” you whimpered, almost whining.

“i know, sweetheart,” he cooed. “so good for me, weren’t you? asking so obediently and politely.”

you nodded, pressing your forehead against his. “i’m sorry that i was —“

“what’re you sorry for?” he demanded.

you clenched your jaw. “i was — i am — i’m worried i was too much — i was so — out of control —“

he shut you up with a kiss. coriolanus snow refused to allow you to continue, or else he knew he would be offended if he had let you finished.

“i wanted that,” he stated. “every bit of that. what, you don’t find it agonizing to be prim and fucking proper every day?”

you laughed uneasily, a bit spooked by his outburst of aggression. “i thought you — i thought that was what you wanted from me.”

he shook his head. “out there — it’s necessary. in here, when it’s only the two of us? don’t ever hide yourself from me. you must promise.”

you swallowed as your haze began to disappear. “only if you promise the same."

you saw his jaw pulse from the corner of your eye. “i promise.”

“i promise,” you returned.

you quickly reconnected your lips. you couldn't let the moment slip away. you needed to seize him while he was there — trusting you for the first time in your entire relationship. you found both of your hands on the side of his face and held him to you. corio fought for control, but you gave in immediately. the need for him to need you was stronger and more satisfying that anything else you could've experienced in that moment. you turned around, straddling his lap and pushing him down to the bed.

everything you were doing was improper: grabbing your husband, forcibly kissing him, sitting in his lap, pushing him down... you almost stopped. you almost gave into the insecurity and made friends with with meekness and shyness once more. however, you made a promise — and you intended to keep it.

"i want you inside me, corio," you whispered against his lips. "please, i want to feel you —"

"again, sweetheart?" he ripped himself from your lips to grunt out his teasing. "one taste, and you're addicted?"

you hummed approval against his lips, tangling your tongue with his. with one hand on the back of your head, holding your face to his, corio's other hand fished between the pair of you and grasped his leaking cock in his hand. the tip was red and swollen, aching for some stimulation or attention. he spread his precum over his tip and with a firm hand, corio slid his cock inside of you.

you arched your back away from corio. the feeling of him being fully sheathed inside of you bent your attention in every which was. both of your hands cradled the back of his head into your chest, where he found himself nestled between your breasts. his breaths were hot and heavy, moist against your skin. his swollen lips found one of your perky nipples and sucked it into his mouth, caving to his primal urges. coriolanus snow wanted every part of you for himself, and needed to place that claim on every part of your body. he wanted your thighs to shake and ache from being locked around him, your fingers to tremble from your hard grip, and he wanted your lips to be bruised from how hard he made you bite them. and, most of all, he wanted every loud moan to rip itself from your aching throat and fill the perfectly painted walls of this damned room.

he cursed you when you threw a hand over your mouth, and he immediately ripped it away. "don't you fucking dare," he spat.

you ignored him. he was your husband, and he was the scariest man you would ever meet, and yet you ignored him. most of all, your hips ignored him. they began to roll against his own the best they could for their inexperience. up, down, and grinding down was the best they could manage before corio grabbed you by the flesh of your hips and moved you to his liking. and when your mouth parted and a loud cry made your throat shake when he twisted your hips forward, he knew he found the spot.

"do not ever deny me what i am owed," he spat, fucking into that spot that wrapped a tight band around your abdomen. "i want to hear how good i am making you feel, and i will. i get to hear. those are mine. i am owed those."

again, you ignored him. what did he expect when your eyes began to roll back into your head and you began to match his pace? you were close, you were so, so close...

that was when corio grabbed you by the chin, refusing to let up his pace. his eyes were full of darkness, yet focus. like he had found his prey. you tried to focus, tried to give him the respect the deserved... but you couldn't. your mind was swimming, and your arching cunt was dripping down his length and onto the skin of his pelvis. you were lost. so fucking lost.

"yours, corio!" you whined. "all yours. only yours."

his voice was gruff against your lips as his thrust became rougher. "say it again."

your eyes began to drift closed as you leaned your head into the crook of his neck, rolling your hips against his. his cock had found its way to the most sensitive and purest part of you and ripped down every wall you had. you sobbed, "yours, corio. only yours."

corio threw you off of him and your back hit the bed. he was on top of you in an instant. he threw your legs up and pressed them against your chest. with your ankles on his shoulders, he pushed himself inside of you and began to relentlessly punish your perfect fucking pussy.

"mine, you got that?" he spat against your ear. "i have watched you, day after day, put on this fucking act! perfect and proper — but i made a proper whore out of the most desirable woman in the capital, didn't i? and now she's mine — forever warming my bed."

"forever, corio," you whined. your sobs were music to his ears, going straight to his cock. your cunt was raw from the friction and slick, unsure if corio should stop or keep going — but you didn't let him guess. "inside me, corio, please... want it to bad. been so good for you..."

his hand was around your throat and demanding your attention. "as if i'd waste a drop when every man in the capital would be able to see you round with my child. you want that wife? my seed, my child? you want to be fully claimed by me?"

"yes," you cried, tears falling down your cheeks. "give it to me, husband, please —"

corio reached down in between your hips and rubbed your clit with whatever energy he had left. his thrust were growing sloppy, but his movements against your swollen bud were worse. he was hissing in your ear as he continued the assault against you. your moans were loud as they escaped your lips and filled the room, setting corio's skin on fire. sweat dripped down from his brow and down his neck to mingle with yours as your second orgasm of the evening began to approach. it snapped the rubber band in your lower belly and you immediately sobbed into corio's neck. his hips continued to rut in you, forcing you down onto the bed as he swallowed all of your sobs for himself. your nails dug into his back and down his spine, hoping to rip parts from him that he had taken from you.

when corio came, you were in a stupor. cock drunk with your mouth hanging open, dazed. when corio came, one of his hands grabbed your messy pile of hair, wrenching at the roots. he pulled you to the side to suck on the sensitive skin of your neck as he pumped your cunt full of his cum. your walls were hot and sticky, full of him, but it only caused the most sickeningly warm feeling to spread throughout you. every primal need of yours was satisfied, and corio could see every bit of it on your face. the pride that welled within your husband... shameful. no man should be in possession of such an ego boost like making the prettiest, more desired woman in all of panem break from all bounds of social etiquette. you were warm, and wet, and craving every bit of his touch, so he couldn't deny you... not anymore. not when he felt the same. with each sob that left your mouth, he felt a kick in the pit of his stomach as his balls throbbed. never in his life had a woman ripped from him what he had taken from her, cheeks hot and muscles worn out.

he would regret it in the morning, maybe, but not now. no — not now.

"husband, forgive me, but..." you spoke. "my mind is a mess. i don't think i can read to you this evening."

corio rolled his eyes and laughed. "that good?"

you pressed a kiss to his lips as you hummed in approval. "never wait that long to bed your wife again."

he chuckled darkly. "watch it, sweetheart."

---

love u guys sm sorry it was so long ty for reading love u love u love u

-L xooxoxooxox