#is above the threshold but is not 4/4)

[belovebug]

going to the gp on friday to ask for an autism assessment referral

[cressidagrey]

Stars all aligned - Chapter 4

Summary:

If there was one thing that both Azriel and Zahra Archeron had in common, it was that they were both very good at blending into the background.

They just never thought that their family were going to be the ones who never saw them at all.

Warning:

THIS IS BAD! I have updated the tags on AO3, but I'll add it on here too:

Bashing of like...every IC member? Especially the Archeron Sisters, discussion of chronic pain, discussion of Infertility, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Underage Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please, take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

(Lovely dividers thanks to @sweetmelodygraphics)

Master. Master, you need to wake up! The shadows were the ones that woke him. Azriel blinked open his eyes… and a moment later the thick cloying scent of blood hit him.

It woke him up immediately. He shot upright on the couch, shadows rushing around him. The scent of blood came from Zahra’s room. 

Nobody else was in the cottage. He knew that. The shadows would have alerted him if there was. 

Which meant that…

He was up before he could think twice about it, hurrying to the door of her room, heart beating furiously, already dreading what might have happened. What she might have done to herself.  “Zahra?” Azriel asked loudly. “Zahra, are you alright?”

A choked gasp, a pitiful moan…all he needed to hear. “I am coming in.“ he warned her. Azriel pushed open the door…and he froze at the threshold of the doorway, staring at the sight awaiting him. 

This couldn’t all be her blood. 

Right? 

Zahra lay in the middle of the bed, curled on her side. Her body shook through painful shivers and her skin had already taken on a worrying grey colour, near lifeless. 

And the bed…the sheets…they were a mess of crimson. 

Blood had soaked through the sheets, staining the mattress…It was…it was horrific.

“Go away.” She whispered, her voice weak. “Please.”

Yeah. That was so not happening. 

His heart was pounding, his chest nearly painfully tight as his eyes focused on her. On Zahra’s shaking body, on her pale face. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Azriel said softly, his voice strained. Gods. What had she done to herself?  “Where are you hurt? What did you do?” He demanded, coming closer, reaching out to touch her arms. Her throat and wrists were unblemished, if one ignored the cold sweat…just as she whimpered again, nearly violently flinching, doubling over.

Between one breath and the next…suddenly it snapped.

The golden bond unfurled to the smell of his mate’s blood, to the sound of her pain.

“I…” she tried to speak, but her words became caught in her throat, choked off by another gasp of pain. By the Mother…

Azriel could feel the bond between them. It seemed to hum in his very bones, demanding that he fix this, that he find the cause of her pain and make it stop.

He knelt on the bed, his knees sinking into the pool of blood, hands hovering above her.

“Where does it hurt?” He asked her desperately.

She just whimpered, her whole body shivering. “Can’t you just….leave me alone?” She asked brokenly, her voice cracking. “Please. It’s just…”

Azriel ignored her, carefully shifting her body until she was lying on her back. But in doing so, he accidentally brushed against her stomach, and all he could think was that he had literally never heard a scream so painful.

Her nightgown was drenched with sweat and blood…dark red right by…

„Have you had your cycle yet as a fae?“ Azriel asked sharply. But that shouldn’t…this was too much blood for that…wasn’t it?

Her eyes were scrunched shut, her face a twisted rictus of agony. She shook her head at his question, teeth clenching. “No…” she said through clenched teeth, her voice high with pain. “No, I haven’t gotten one..”

Which made no sense either because she had…because she had been a fae for nearly three years at this point. Zahra should have gone through multiple cycles by now. 

And while fae cycles were vicious, they weren’t…

They didn’t involve this much blood. Usually. 

Another whimper of pain, another tremble of that bond in his chest…and Azriel was done. 

Madja. He needed Madja.

“I’ll get Madja,” he told Zahra tightly, hands gently cupping her face. “I just need to go get her, and then I’ll be right back,” he promised her desperately, just as another choked-off moan came from her. 

The shadows came flowing out of the corners of the room, pressing against Zahra's face. Go, Master! they demanded.

Azriel’s throat closed up. He hated the thought of leaving her, even for a moment. But he gave a sharp, resolute nod. “Okay..okay, I will be right back.”

He gave her one last look, her pale face and dark hair soaked with sweat and blood, and then he was gone. 

“Madja!! Madja!” He bellowed. He wasn’t normally one to be panicked, he was an Illyrian trained from birth to be calm under stress, to keep his head. But this…Gods, this had his heart in his throat and his mind racing.

This was his mate. 

He had waited half a millennia for her and she had been right in front of his nose for three years and he hadn’t fucking seen it. 

If he had seen it earlier, maybe then it would have never gotten this bad, maybe then it wouldn’t have…

He was quite sure that he gave Madja half a heart attack, but quite frankly, Madja was used to worse from him and his family. 

And so, Madja only took one look at his panicked, wild expression and her own went serious. “What happened?” She asked as she rose from her chair.

“It’s Zahra,” Azriel said, his voice thick. He swallowed, trying to get a grip. “She’s…bleeding. So much…blood. It’s everywhere, it’s all over her bed and clothes and…gods, I don’t know what happened, but I need you to come, now.”

Madja’s eyes widened, her hands going to the satchel at the table. “Take me to her.” She said simply, shoving a few jars into her bag. 

Zahra was where he had left her, shadows worriedly swirling around her. And the sigh that greeted them made even Madja’s breath hitch. 

“Zahra, can you hear me?” Madja asked immediately. “I am going to help you, alright?”

Zahra’s eyes flickered but didn’t open. Her breaths were uneven and pained, her face twisted. “Y-yeah…” she panted, voice quavering.

Azriel knelt by the bed, one hand coming down to hers and lacing their fingers together. He could feel the damp and icy cold skin against his…her heartbeat skittering underneath her skin…Azriel was practically shaking himself with how worried he was, his whole body trembling with fear.

“You’re going to be just fine,” he murmured softly. “Madja is here, she will figure out what’s wrong.”

Zahra groaned, her fingers giving a weak twitch in his before gripping onto his hand like a lifeline.

“Hurts..” she whimpered, her voice cracking.

“I know,“ Madja said soothingly. “I’ll need to lift your nightgown, alright? Just to see where we are at.“

Zahra gave a low whine, her eyes scrunching up tighter, but she made no protest or move to stop the healer. Azriel didn’t know if she did that because she trusted Madja or because she was far too far gone to even care. Madja carefully peeled back the blood-soaked fabric, carefully lifting it up over her stomach.

Azriel kept his eyes on Zahra's face, pressing a kiss against the back of her hand.  “Squeeze as tight as you need to,” he told her softly. 

“What if I hurt you?” she forced out, but he just shook his head. 

“You won’t,” Azriel promised her simply. And even if she did…he wouldn’t care. He would have given everything in that moment to make sure that she was comforted even a tiny little bit. 

Her face was drenched in sweat, her body quivering, and she looked far too young, too fragile at that moment. 

He forgot sometimes, how young she really was. Not even a century yet. Not even…

But she still squeezed his hand tighter. Her eyes clenched closed, her breaths laboured and quick. “Hurts…it hurts so badly…” she whimpered brokenly.

Whatever Madja was doing to her…Zahra’s breathing was becoming panicked and even more pained, her whole body shaking. 

Azriel was having to restrain the urge to pull her into his arms, to tug her up against his chest and try to soothe her. To drag her away from Madja, who he knew was only trying to help and instead comfort his mate. 

So instead, he pressed another kiss to her sweat-slick skin even as she cried out sharply. The sound made him flinch. 

“Gods,” Madja cursed sharply and Azriel’s head snapped towards her. She was looking far more upset than Azriel had ever seen her. 

“What is it? “ he asked shakily, Zahra whimpering and he turned back towards her, unable to tear his gaze away from the anguished, pain-filled face of his mate. “What’s happening?

“You should have been brought to me immediately, Zahra” Madja said softly. “I could have lessened the pain, dear.”

Zahra didn’t say a word, biting her lips, her face still pulled up into a pain-filled grimace. 

“How often?” Madja asked, her voice softening.  

Zahra’s breaths were hitching, coming in shallow pants as her trembling increased. She shook her head softly, her words coming out between gasps. “Often,” she’d whimpered.

Zahra gave another moan, and her hand clenched even harder around Azriel’s. Every one of her shudders and flinches was like a knife straight into his heart.

He had no idea what they were talking about, but it couldn’t be good, he knew that much. 

“How old were you the first time?” Madja asked gently.

“15,” Zahra whispered, wetting her lips. Every single word seemed to be forced out of her chest.  “I was 15.“

15…so young. Gods, so damn young.

Madja’s face was grim, “And the last?” The healer questioned.

“It went on for 6 years,” Zahra whispered. “Until 4 years ago.”

Madja nodded tightly. “You were still human,” Madja said softly. “The scarring is…extensive. Humans heal slower don’t they?”

“Yes,” Zahra whispered.

Azriel’s heart was hammering in his chest, his mind racing to try to catch up to the conversation that was happening. He felt so goddamn useless. There was something wrong, so wrong, and he couldn’t do a thing to try and help. The feeling of helplessness was killing him.

And this…this sounded like they were implying something so awful that he daren’t voice it. 

“What’s wrong with her?” He demanded. “What do you mean by scarring?”

Madja’s hands were moving across the skin of Zahra’s abdomen, pressing down gently, something that resulted in Zahra’s whole body flinching “There is extensive scarring in her reproductive system.” The healer told him bluntly. “Like she has been injured for an extended period. Over and Over.”

Zahra let out a shuddering gasp, her head tilting to press into the pillows and away from the healer’s hands.

“Cauldron, sunshine, what happened to you?” Azriel whispered.

He hadn’t actually expected an answer. He got one nonetheless.

“I did what I had to. I always did what I had to,” Zahra whispered, green eyes begging him to understand. “We had no money and Feyre was sick and… Was I supposed to let my little sister die?” Azriel went utterly still at her words

She had…she had done something to her own body to save her sister. Something bad enough to give her scars on her internal organs. What the hell had she ever done to cause this much damage?

“What did you do?” He forced out.

Her breath was shaky. “I gave the only thing that was mine to give up. The only thing that…the only thing that that apothecary would want,” she recounted with a shudder. Azriel’s blood went cold, freezing in his veins.

He didn’t…he couldn’t possibly mean…

“He raped you.” He whispered.

He wished she would disagree…would tell him that that hadn’t happened…but what she did say…it was even worse. 

“I went to him willingly. I let him do this to me. I didn’t fight him,” Zahra corrected him, her voice weak. 

Like that made it any better. Like that…

“You were so young,” he said softly. “Gods…Zahra..” his voice broke, and he couldn’t speak anymore.

He didn’t even have the words…didn’t even have the thoughts…didn’t…

“He hurt you,” he choked out.  It wasn’t a question.

A shuddering breath from her. 

“Yes,” Zahra answered weakly. “It…I did it once for medicine. But after that…I did it for money. I came back and I let him do it to me again. And again. And when he got bored, he thought of something new, something worse and…He did things to me…I didn’t even know you could do that to another person.” 

His entire body was shaking with rage. The shadows wreathing around him darkened almost into black. 

He had never wanted to rip another person into pieces with his bare hands as much as he wanted to right now. 

Madja stilled next to them, her hands still on Zahra’s skin…trying to heal the worst of it, Azriel could feel that. 

The healer’s face was carefully blank, but Azriel had known her long enough to see the subtle signs of anger. Madja had an incredibly good mask, but Azriel was able to read people when they didn’t want to be read.

And…there was another thing…

“Do your sisters know?” he asked weakly. Did they know and still treated Zahra like they did? Ignored her outright at some points and wished she didn’t exist at others? 

The dynamic had been fucked up from the start…the first time they had met Zahra she had been in her maid uniform…clearly treated not as a member of their family but as staff. 

But they had believed…they all had believed that maybe the change from human to fae was good for one thing and that would fall away…that this could heal…that all 4 of them could be sisters, properly, now. Maybe something that went well for once. 

Now Azriel wondered how naive he had been in particular. 

He was a bastard just as she was. Azriel would never be accepted by his half-brothers either. His half-brothers had ruined his hands. And her sisters…

“Nesta…Nesta thinks I had an affair with a married man,” Zahra choked out. “Which I did. Kind of.” 

A horrible, bitter laugh tore itself out of the Azriel’s chest. “An affair…” he repeated, disbelieving. “You didn’t have an affair. You were raped.”

“I let him do it. I did it willingly,” Zahra disagreed, her voice weak. 

She had agreed, because otherwise they would have starved. 

“You were fifteen!” Azriel whispered, anger flaring up with his grief. “You were a child! You were nothing but a goddamn child. And you did what you had to to survive. You sacrificed yourself for your family’s survival!” He took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to get a grip on his own emotions.

Madja’s hands were still moving over the skin of her stomach, her face set in a heavy grimace.

Zahra’s eyes were fixed on his face, her breaths still shallow and pained. “I am sorry.”

He couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand her apologies. Not right now. Not for this.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he whispered, pressing another kiss to the back of her hand.

“You were just a child,” Azriel repeated, voice choked. “None of this is your damn fault.” For once… she didn’t protest. 

Zahra just closed her eyes, a few tears trickling out from between her lashes.

Madja’s hands stilled, and then the healer carefully pulled away. She didn’t say anything, and Azriel felt a new fear fill his chest. “What is it?” He asked her. “What’s wrong?”

“The scarring is…extensive,” Madja said carefully. “I am…I am sorry, but I think you may be barren.”

Zahra didn’t even flinch.

“I know,” Zahra answered, her voice flat. “I haven’t bled in years until now.” The words were like someone driving an ice-cold knife between his ribs and into his heart.

He didn’t care that she couldn’t carry his children. He didn’t fucking care. 

He only needed to know that she was safe and healthy…But to know she had been hurting for so many years…to know that she had sacrificed herself for her family…it broke his heart. 

And they didn’t even know that she had done that. 

Madja’s expression darkened further. Perhaps at the thought of what Zahra had been forced to endure, or perhaps because this new information opened up a whole other level of complication.

“That…does explain why the bleeding has been so severe,” the healer said. “Gods, child.”

There was silence in the room, Azriel still gripping Zahra’s hand in his. 

He didn’t care that she couldn’t give him children, not unless she wanted to. But the fact that she would never have a choice in the matter. That she had sacrificed not just her innocence, but the future she could have had, for her family’s sake…

He clenched his jaw so tightly he was surprised it didn’t crack.

Zahra was staring up at the ceiling, her emotions carefully schooled and hidden away. So cold and indifferent…so numb. Numb. 

He could recognise the signs because he often felt like that as well. 

Azriel wanted to hold her. He wanted to pull her up to his chest and into his arms and hide her from the entire world. From all the horrors and nightmares that she had been forced to endure.

Protecting and keeping her and making sure she never hurt again…

“I have some potions for you to take…I’ll ask Violet to make you some specially tailored for you…” Madja said softly. 

Violet was the apothecary they used for most of their potions. And also the one that Zahra did the accounts for. 

Azriel forced himself to nod. Zahra made some vague murmur of understanding, as Madja put said potions on the bedside table. 

Madja turned her gaze to Azriel, dark eyes searching his face. “You should stay with her tonight,” she said quietly. “Make sure the bleeding doesn’t get worse and call me immediately if it does.”

Azriel nodded again. He wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, not unless Zahra asked him to leave.

The healer rose, giving another glance at the two of them. She made a sound in the back of her throat, as though she wanted to say something, but she just gave a single nod before turning and leaving the room.

And then it was just the two of them in the room. Azriel sat crouched next to her on the bed, his hand still clamped around hers.

He didn’t know what the damn hell he was supposed to say.

“I’m sorry.” And there she was, apologizing yet again for something that wasn’t her fault in the least. 

His eyes widened at her voice, the unexpectedness of it breaking the silence in the room.

“What?” He asked, his voice cracking. “What could you possibly be sorry for?”

She didn’t open her eyes, but he saw her expression flicker slightly. “For…for this.” She said hoarsely. “For making you deal with this.”

His heart felt like it was collapsing in on itself again. “You didn’t make me do anything,” he said quietly. “And you have nothing to apologise for.”

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

hi hi ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ ☀︎︎

Can I request a lil ficlet please 🥹

I would like the following prompt: Cuddling before falling asleep in your arms with their lips parted so you give them a peck

But but can I add secret relationship trope and they’re in the BAU jet?

PS: your fics are just amazing and I love them.

Cuddles and Cameras - Spencer Reid x GN Reader (Fluff w Fade to Black)

Spencer practically dragged me across the threshold to the hotel room. His hand, ready to hold me, reached out into the dark hotel room. I flipped up the light and was pushed up against the wall before I could even kick off my shoes.

"Ooof! Spence!" I shouted, my voice soon muffled by Spencer's lips.

"Sorry, baby..." Kiss on the lips Kiss on bottom lip. Kiss on the top. Kiss on the lips. "I couldn't help myself. It's hard for me to have to stay on good behavior."

I chuckled, my hands reaching up to tug Spencer's hair. He smiled, letting me kiss his neck and down to his collarbone. I grinned as I kissed Spencer. His skin was practically shivering from holding himself back.

"Yeah? I didn't think that I was tempting."

Spencer rolled his eyes, his mouth hovering above my in an upturn smirk. His eyes danced with playfulness as he watched me.

"You have no idea how hard it's to keep us a secret." He whispers. I licked my lips and felt the ghost of Spencer's lips against mine. I was tired of clinging to this small, secret, hidden touches. I wanted him in daylight, not under the covers.

Spencer tugged down my windbreaker, leaving me in the stiff work clothes. "I am putting on PJs right away." I announced.

"It's fine, sweetheart. I wasn't planning on letting you be dressed for much longer."

"Sex then room service?"

Spencer knelt on the bad, grabbing me by the waist. He took my cheeks into his palms and brought me so close. His skin was fire against my cheeks. And then he kissed me.

Kissing Spencer was like breathing. I needed it like I needed water. I drank him in, reeling in the way his mouth molded to mine. Against me, Spencer was liquid heat, quick and malleable.

We stopped, Spencer catching his breath and me slowing the pounding of my heart.

"Perfect." I whispered, kissing Spencer again and pushing him down onto the bed. I wasn't sure if I took off his shirt first or if he took my off my pants. It didn't matter who peel away the first item of clothing, I had never bared my soul more than to anyone besides him. Never stood more naked than I did with my clothes on than I did with Spencer Reid.

After that night in the hotel it seemed like something between us shifted. For a while now, we danced in that limbo. I knew that I loved Spencer. And Spencer knew that he loved me. And we both knew what the other knew.

Yet, I had to contain myself as we sat next to each other on the jet. Spencer had already started and finished two books. I, on the other hand, did not finish anyway near two books. I couldn't even read a single sentence without my mind wondering.

And I knew Spencer well enough to understand that he probably felt similar. Two books in about 4 hours is akin to my measly half a paragraph in Spencer's eyes.

"They're sleeping." Spencer said. He didn't look up from his book. "Hotch is facing the same way as us. He can't see us. And even if he did....I don't care."

I don't care.

God. How I wished to have heard that for the last couple of months? Instantly, I folded myself into Spencer. He sat with his legs out stretched straight on the jet seats. I laid between his legs with my side cushioned against his front. Spencer laid the blanket on top of us and when his arms wrapped around my torso, I melted.

As good as he was a sex, Spencer was between during the moments after. He was incredibly sweet. We both hated the mess that came with it so nearly nine months into our relationship we had our after routine completely memorized.

"This is nice." Spencer whispered. He breathed my scent; between staying at each other's places a couple days a week each we started just use each other's products.

"It is."

He kissed the top of my head. "Go to sleep."

"You, too." I countered. "Don't let me make your leg numb." I requested, shifting so I wouldn't hurt him.

"It's fine, babe. Just move up, I want to be able to see your face anyway."

I scooted up, shifting so Spencer and I were face to face. We were so close that I could feel the shadow of his smile. I eclipsed it with my own. He kissed my forehead and I, in moment of sleepless delusion leaned further and kissed him. It wasn't a polite kiss. It was the sort of kiss that is hidden in hotel rooms, shelved away from nosy coworkers and professional regulations. It was the kind of kiss that made me see the world in full color.

How would I go back to black and white. If I had to choose, then I would choose Spencer, hidden, but in Technicolor.

We must've fallen asleep soon after because the next thing I remember was blinding white flash. My eyes were shut, but the flash of white was enough to pull me from a sleep. Spencer's arms didn't release me so he was still sleeping.

"Morgan...?" I croaked. The image before me cleared up. Derek Morgan's white smile beamed. He practically was flashing me and Spencer's cuddled forms his dazzling pearly whites.

"Penny G!" His voiced sounded positively delighted. I sat up and realized that the flash of white was an old crime scene camera. Why that was still included in our packs when the Bureau went digital two years go, was beyond my job role.

"Did you take a picture of us!?" I shrieked, breaking free of Spencer's grip and leaping from the seats. "Derek! Is that the picture! Derek!" Spencer must've woken up somewhere in between me screaming and shouting.

The rest of the team, notably our boss, Hotch's head snapped up.

"Morgan! Y/L/N!"

"It's okay." Spencer's hand rested on my shoulder.

We backed down, hearing the stunning level of "dad" in Hotch's voice. Morgan dropped the picture against my lap. It was one of the photographs that you could see the image almost right away. Slowly, an image of Spencer and I appeared, sleeping and intertwined. Our faces were so close that our lips nearly touched.

Emily and JJ exchanged glances that said more than words could ever. Morgan's eyes shifted from mine to Spencer's as he figured that this wasn't the first time we had feel asleep like this.

"You two. My office, but Monday. I'm too tired to deal with this, even though we all knew." Hotch explained. He shut his computer, decidedly finished with work for the day. His eyes closed as he got as comfortable as one could still wearing a suit and tie.

"Penelope is going to be heartbroken." JJ said, loud enough for the entire jet to hear. I felt my heart drop into the pit of my stomach. Spencer and I didn't similar like a weird notation. There wasn't a time in my life that felt more right and I felt more like myself than the time I've been with Spencer.

"JJ-" Spencer started. Derek's eyebrows narrowed and even Hotch opened a single eye. Emily practically backed away. Clearly the entire team was Team Us. Spencer's thumb brushed against my lower back.

"She's not gonna know whose side of the weeding ceremony to sit on."

[igotanidea]

New rules: Damian Wayne x reader

part 4 of "Family rules" series.

A/N: bit of a filler, cause it's been 3 months(!!!!), but promise next part will be more eventful :D

***

„What is this?!” her father yelled, almost throwing the Gotham newspaper in her face.

“I—”

“Let me tell you what this is! This is you kissing Damian Wayne! And your face is all over the newspapers’ front pages!”

“Stop screaming at me!” she spat back feeling her self-control slipping.

“You better tread carefully young lady. Last time I checked you were still living in my house.”

The nightmare began the second she got back from school, still reeling from everything that happened in the principal’s office. Y/N could barely step over the threshold when a tight grip on her shoulders yanked her back, pushing her into the chair in the living room, with a very angered Mr. Y/L/N hovering above her. Felt like a freaking interrogation because she dared to behave like a teenage girl falling in love for the first time in her life.

If her mother was still alive, she would understand. She would sit down with her, ask a lot of questions, let Y/N blush and be supportive as a mother could.

Instead the young girl had to deal with her father, who clearly forgot that part of the role, focusing only on acting as a CEO, whose daughter was fraternizing with the enemy.

And it made her feel guilty.

Guilty for her own feelings, as if falling in love was something shameful. As if he had to pick the right person to whom her heart should start beating. Or not. Not that she could have experienced that, yet¸ but judging by the screams and rage she could say that in the future her father might try to marry her off out of reason.  

“Dad, please listen, I –” her pleading tone was supposed to make the man realize that she wasn’t just a bargaining chip in his business’ development.

“I understand.” The response was cold, emotionless, almost ruthless, leaving no space for arguing.  

“No you don’t understand! You don’t understand! How could you possibly understand love when even mom was nothing more than a trophy wife for you-!“

Her outburst was immediately cut off by a slap and sharp stinging on the cheek followed by the reddened skin and pulsing blood.

“This is what your mother’s upbringing caused.” Her father hissed “ungrateful, stupid, snouted brat. But let me tell you something. This ends here. And if you want to keep living on my expense, you will do as I tell you!”

“I’m 17! I’m underage, you can’t just cast me out!”

“Unless you want to find out what I’m capable of, I advise you to listen to the plan you’re just a pawn in.”

***

“What is it, Damian?” Bruce asked his youngest son when he came back from school. If there was any anger or disappointment in him, he did a great job hiding it.

“It’s nothing.” Said youngest muttered bellicosely.

It obviously had to come to this stupid awkward conversation with his father but Damian was not going to admit anything easily. And the fact that the boy only just realized that he might be slightly in love with Y/N Y/L/N was causing him to act even more coldly and aloofly than usually.

“Son…”

“I said it’s nothing!”

“So you kissing that girl was just you having fun? Or maybe you were trying to humiliate her?”

“What? No!”

“Look, you are a boy. It's okay if you want to blow off steam. It’s understandable.” Bruce smirked, clearly setting a trap for Damian with the reverse psychology trick.

“You understand? Because you had so much blowing off steam when you were younger?" Obviously the boy raised by Thalia Al-Ghul and Ra’s Al-Ghul was smarter than to fall for something so childish. “Besides, it’s such a humiliating experience. I have no interest in primitive youthful pleasures and amorous activities, father.”

“You sure about it?”

“Positive.” Damian crossed arms over his chest, having his face expression under perfect control.

“Good. Get ready for patrol then. We’ll be leaving soon.”

Damian nodded and with stern look and pursed lips left the room, allowing Bruce to finally let out a sigh of worry. His son may have been a skilled vigilante trained in restraint of emotions, but he could not trick Batman himself. It was impossible to notice how Damian’s eyes were focused on that little Y/L/N during all of last night’s gala. Showing much more than just resentment. And then the dance, which Bruce didn’t even have to force him into. And the way his boy was holding that girl. It was almost obvious that Damian had in fact an interest in amorous activities.

And unlike Y/n’s father, Bruce was not mad about it. In fact, he was quite relieved. As long as possible the relationship would not detriment Damian’s Robin duties of course. But seriously, as a father of a 17 year old, Bruce knew that it was only a matter of time when dilemmas and problems related to love and adolescence would come forward.

And unlike Y/N;s father Bruce was going to watch it carefully, intervening when needed, giving a push here and there, but without obvious control.

***

She was crying a waterfall, holding onto the bruised cheek wondering how to best cover it up so no one at school would ask silly questions.

Locked in the room on the first floor, making the most stern resolution to avoid Damian Wayne for dear life. Even if that was the last thing she would do in her life, she wouldn’t get closer than three rows of desks in the classroom.

For what Y/N cared, Damian Wayne was now officially dead to her.

***

He was sitting on the branch of a giant tree next to her house, dressed in Robin costume, observing how the girl walked into her room with a hand on her cheek, though the distance didn’t allow him to uncover why. Was she sick? Would she be at school tomorrow? Maybe the press got to her and she hurt herself running away from the paparazzi?

“Damian.”

AH! He almost fell to the ground.

“Yes, father?”

“What are you doing?”

“Observing.”

“What?”

“The target.”

“Hm.”

“What now?”

“Unless the target changed age, gender and appearance—”

“Our criminal is currently running down 34th street.” Damian cut his father off abruptly and roughly “his tires are about to burst in about 100 meters due to the explosive I planted there. The explosion will give us enough momentum to jump into action and catch him with the stolen goods in his trunk. That is if we get into action in 3…2…1…” he swiftly shot into the air without paying attention to his companion and even less to his words.

As if Batman was trying to suggest Damian might have been watching her.

Huh! Ridiculous!

***

“Hey Y/n, what happened to your face?” The same girl that used to laugh her out about ending up on the pages kissing Damian, guffawed the next day seeing the poorly covered bruise on Y/N’s face.

“None of your fuckin business -“

“Oh, such bad words coming out of the little princess' mouth, isn’t it?”

“Get lost Lisa!” Y/N shut the locker and tried to walk past her bully.

“You will not ignore me!” Lisa hissed and yanked the other girl’s hair back.

“GIRL FIGHT!” someone yelled and in a blink of an eye the corridor was filled with students cheering on one or the other girl as they started to circle around each other waiting for the moment to strike. Before teachers arrived Y/N was on the floor, blocking the hits that Lisa, who was sitting atop her kept on throwing.

“GET OFF ME!”

“YOU WILL RESPECT MY POSITION IN THIS SCHOOL!”

“YOU’RE A BULLY!”

“I’M A QUEEN!”

“OF MENTAL SICKNESS!"

“HE’S MINE!”

“Wait… what?” Y/N stuttered and the moment of confusion ended up in the perfectly aimed nose punch and a quite decent bleeding. Followed by Lisa’s vindictive smile.

“Now your nose matches your cheek.”

“ny-noze….”  tears pricked from Y/N’s eyes from the combined pain and shock. It was not just about the fight, but everything that happened in the last couple days. Her father’s abuse because of falling in love and now Lisa’s torment because of pretty much the same followed by a girl’s jealousy.

“What is happening here?” Fuck, why were the teachers always appearing  after the drama happened.

“She attacked me!” Lisa exclaimed, putting on an innocent face. “So aggressive, I suppose it’s because she was raised only by one parent.”

For a second the principal and the tutor were looking between untouched Lisa and beaten up, bleeding Y/N. It was clear who was the casualty, nonetheless it was Lisa’s family who’s been giving generous donations to school.

“Get up from the floor Y/N.” she was finally instructed and on shaky legs and with dizziness she clumsily stood up still clutching her nose. “This is your second stunt this week. You’re coming to my office and this time, I won’t go lightly on you.”

“It was not her fault.” Someone from the crowd of the students dared to speak up and the people parted, revealing the fuming….

Damian Wayne.

“it was Lisa—”

“Oh, I don’t feel well!” Lisa exclaimed accidentally falling right into Damian’s arms “I feel like I’m going to faint—”

“Mr. Wayne, take Mrs Thomas to the nurse’s office so she can be tended to.”

“What-?” Damian swiftly avoided Lisa’s fall and the girl almost ended up on the floor. “No.”

“N-no?”

“No. Y/N was the one who was attacked. And for crying out loud, she’s the one bleeding and needing medical attention. So no, I’m not taking her—” he threw a glance at Lisa “anywhere when there’s someone else in need.”

“U-uh…” the principal still had in mind the humiliation he was subjected to last time when he had Damian and Y/N talk to him. “Fine! Fine, you take her to the nurse, though it’s completely unnecessary and –” half a sentence and two of them were already halfway away “Fuck. I mean, you all go back to your classes! There’s nothing to see here! Now go, before I put you all in detention!”

***

So her resolve to avoid Damian was broken on the first day. 

And it was about to get even harder from now on. 

_________________________________________

part 5: Cracking

@6000-fandoms @beyond-your-stars @mikyapixie

@heartz4miz @crookedmakerfury @mariam12344 @celestair

@faimmm @hornyslasher @urdarlingali

[thydungeongal]

As someone who creates 5e adjacent content I have a dark secret I must confess...

I love dice-pool games.

The only reason I don't create a dice-pool game is that there's so few levers to pull for dice-pool manipulations that make any kind of meaningful distinction in the resolution mechanic to generate a mechanical-to-narrative sensation of character differentiation.

The day I solve that problem as it percolates in the back of my mind is the day we get a new dice-pool game system.

There's a few interesting tricks I've run into in dice pool systems:

Dice pool systems usually start by taking some features of a character, usually something like an ability/attribute and something like a skill, but it could be anything, and combining those into a dice pool. Now, most games don't actually do more in this step than just counting the final total of dice. But there's one axis of information that is rarely used: the type of dice.

For an example, in a hypothetical Attribute+Skill system, assume that a character assembled their dice pool from Strength (an attribute) and Athletics (a skill) and the rolled dice were color-coded depending on their source.

Now, if you want some proper oWoD jank in your game you can make it so that dice that come from attributes have a higher threshold of success than dice that come from skills, representing the importance of training over raw strength. You've now addressed the "untrained skill" penalty that is often tackled via penalties to dice pools. However: this does result in extra friction. One of the benefits of having a static threshold of success is that you can quickly eyeball how many successes you have.

Which leads to the next question: why limit the dice in your dice pool to a single type of die? Staying with the above example, let's assume that the success threshold is a 5 or above, and the average die in the pool is a d6. Now you can introduce d8s as a type of die that represents. Something. Incidentally, the switch from a d6 to a d8 in a system where the threshold of success is a 5 results in a similar change of probabilities as keeping the dice d6 but changing the threshold of success to 4.

Anyway, there's other types of neat tricks you can do. nWoD has "10 again" which means that dice that come up a 10 count as successes and are rolled again, with some abilities allowing for "9 again" or even "8 again" on specific tests, or if they represent a hindrance or penalty on the character they may even counteract "10 again" in specific circumstances.

And I'm sure there's a bunch of other stuff that can be done with dice pools. Heck, I've seen games that use dice pools of Fate dice, where results of + are used to add benefits or bonuses to the action from a pick-list while results of - are used to cancel penalties or misfortunes (which are all assumed to happen by default!). So there's a lot of information you can get out of dice pools, you just need to keep looking for it!

[yet-another-heathen]

On the topic of realistic conditioning/deconditioning,

If the trigger is something whumpee wouldn't hear often when they're with caretaker but whumpee still wants to break it because they might hear it elsewhere (like kneel being taken as a command)

Would whumpee ask caretaker to casually trigger them so they have the opportunity to challenge it in their own head and in a safe place? Would this be a good idea for recovery?

And of course being there with the praise everytime whumpee makes just a little bit of progress, or comfort when they don't.

Heads up, anon: your ask was an EXCEPTIONALLY good one, and I ended up writing another mini TED talk (~3-4 min read) in response. Thank you so much for sending it in!

...on Conditioned Whumpees - Part 3

[ Part 1 - Part 2 ]

That is a very, very good idea! You're spot on with all of it, particularly operating in a safe environment where whumpee is ultimately calling the shots. Having that comfort/support readily available will make a huge difference in how well whumpee can tackle the matter. And while the process isn't fun, approaching desensitization with this much intent is much, much more likely to result in success.

I can offer a few pointers that can add another few layers of realism, as well as some other things to think about while tailoring it to your story:

if whumpee is actively working through their conditioning in this way, memories of their trauma will become closer to the surface. As a result, all of their other PTSD symptoms will be elevated during the course of their practice sessions, as well as for at least a few weeks after.

flashbacks are a very common experience during times like this. engaging with triggers like this is going to cause their flashbacks to become more frequent and intense.

during such flashbacks, it is almost a given that whumpee's mind and body will enter a similar state to the one it was in during the time when the flashback was taking place. By that I mean that the fear they felt in that moment, where it was physically located in their body, will echo into their body in the present moment. Same goes for other all other emotions, and sometimes even phantom aches surrounding any injuries they received at the time...

while the emotions tend to be identical to the ones felt during the trauma, in my experience, the pain comes out distorted in a similar way to the way it does in dreams: less intense, and more "blurry" and imprecise in location. When we say that someone having a flashback is "reliving the moment", we mean that their body literally feels as though they're in the same immediate danger that it was in back then.

this is true even though they'll be aware to at least some degree that they're presently with caretaker and safe.

the flashbacks don't always happen immediately after the conditioning trigger is used. Often they flare up hours or days later, sometimes without warning, sometimes as a result of encountering a different flashback trigger. The whumpee's thresholds for what counts as a trigger will drop, which is part of what causes the flashbacks to happen more often. Something they could normally ignore is going to affect them much more while they're like this.

your whumpee is more likely to experience severe mood swings while in this heightened state. Especially feelings like irritability, frustration, anger, loneliness, and grief. This stuff ain't pretty, folks. Even your sweet cinnamon bun is most likely going to lash out at someone as a result.

PTSD episodes are also exhausting. your whumpee is going to feel mentally, physically, and emotionally drained. And, to add insult to injury, being tired amplifies the emotions listed above.

Now all of this said, your whumpee may or may not know that this is to be expected. If they've worked on processing their trauma before this, they'll have figured out that one often leads to the other. They'll go into the deconditioning practice knowing this is coming, and will approach it carefully, but with a fairly level head. Knowing that it'll suck, but they'll come out the other side okay.

If not, they're in for a rather nasty surprise.

For the latter, they will feel at first that the deconditioning practice is making everything worse. They're suddenly struggling the way they did when the trauma was fresher, and it can be tempting to stop and refuse to touch it again because the mental/emotional pain gets so intense.

If they do give up at this stage, it will make trying again far more daunting in the future.

But the trauma being stirred up is actually a sign that it's helping. It means that the whumpee is starting to process what happened to them, which is a fundamental step in being able to heal.

Note: All throughout the process, crying is a very good thing. It lets them physically get rid of a lot of the brain chemicals associated with these surges of emotion. Letting themselves cry over things they couldn't cry about back then can actually help them let go of those feelings in a similar way to if they'd been able to process them in the moment. [Which is the basis for much of EMDR, a specialized tool used in trauma therapy.]

Okay. So now we know what other effects can cascade from the actual deconditioning practice, now we have some things to consider.

First off, what time parameters are whumpee and caretaker working within while deconditioning? There are three basic options:

they sit down together and practice repeatedly using the trigger for [X amount of time; usually <45m at once] back to back. Once that time is up, caretaker will no longer use the trigger at all, the excercise will end, and they'll get up to do something else.

whumpee sets a specific window of time [X number of hours] within which caretaker will use the trigger word at random points. Once that time has elapsed, the exercise is over.

over the course of days, caretaker uses the trigger word at random points without giving warning. the excercise only stops after being ended by whumpee.

Now why is that important? Because of something called hypervigilance. It is another symptom of PTSD which, to put it into the simplest words, is whumpee waiting for the other shoe to drop. It's a heightened state of tension and wariness in which whumpee is expecting that something bad is going to happen, and is constantly searching for any sign to indicate when it's coming.

It is beyond exhausting.

Imagine knowing that someone is about to slap you as hard as they can, and you have to sit there with your eyes closed, waiting for it. The breath-holding, the flinchiness, the rigid tension in your body as you strain to listen for when they're coming.

Only now, stretch that moment out into hours. Days. Weeks. That is hypervigilance.

A hypervigilant whumpee is not going to be able to relax. Or rest. Or decompress. Or readily trust much of anything around them. They're MUCH more likely to flinch at sudden movements/sounds. They might start biting their nails or showing other signs of nervousness and distress.

These methods above have a gradually increasing chance of setting off whumpee's hypervigilance. If they know exactly when the next trigger is coming, as in example 1, then their 'waiting for it' tension will be low. But the more uncertain they become of exactly when it's going to happen, as in examples 2 & 3, the worse the hypervigilance is going to get.

The trade off is that the later examples are more effective in desensitizing them toward the trigger. The more their practice mimics encountering an unexpected trigger in day-to-day life, the easier it will be to fall back on that desensitization when the time comes.

Therefore, it would be a very good idea for a whumpee who's new to this to start with number 1, then gradually progress to 2 & 3 as time goes on. They should be the one to decide when the next step is made, and if/when they need to dial it back.

Other questions to ask yourself while plotting:

how mentally prepared is whumpee for worsening symptoms? what about caretaker? did either of them know it was coming?

how much of this heightened PTSD stress can your whumpee take before it becomes too much? how do they react when they do hit that tipping point?

if caretaker feels that whumpee is getting too distressed during practice even though they're not tapping out, would they call it off themself? Or would they ultimately leave that decision to whumpee?

based on the answer, how would whumpee feel about caretaker's decision? Relieved? Belittled? Betrayed?

does whumpee have any grounding tools they can use while practicing?

how does caretaker handle the mood swings and instability that come with whumpee's heightened PTSD? You should consider both their internal and external reactions on the matter.

how does whumpee prefer to decompress after a practice session? what things would help them calm down and recover?

how long do they need (hours or days) before the next attempt?

Even with all I've just written, there's far more to the resulting hightened state of PTSD than flashbacks and hypervigilance. PTSD symptoms that they're most likely to encounter in the background while doing deconditioning practice include:

Flinchiness, anxiety, panic attacks, nightmares, exhaustion, emotional mood swings, outbursts, crying spells, depression, executive dysfunction, dissociation, numbness, racing thoughts, freeze responses, tremors, inappetence, muscle tension, and heart palpitations.

Yes, usually many of them at once, even those that contradict. Your whumpee is going to have a LOT going on at once, and it is not going to be a fun time. I recommend looking up any of the above symptoms you don't recognize, and looking for whump inspiration in what you learn.

(Because everyone experiences PTSD episodes differently, there's a lot of wiggle room in which ones whumpee will encounter. Don't feel pressured to use all of them, find what you want to write and have fun with it!)

Thanks again for the incredible ask, anon. And again, I want to congratulate you on how spot-on your original ask was. You nailed it. I know this was a lot more than you asked for, but I hope this provides helpful context for your whump! My inbox will always be open if you think of anything more <3

[blood-orange-juice]

Inspired by a discord discussion.

I keep seeing characters from snowy places portrayed as unbothered by cold or missing it, and every time I remember that it's completely counterintutive if you didn't grow up in freezing temperatures

So I thought I should write this post.

We are very bothered by cold. We are way more bothered by cold than southerners. Being bothered is what keeps you safe. Warmth is a resource.

There are few lucky people who simply never get cold (mostly guys of endomorph body type) but it's not a given and generally northerners start to complain and wear warm coats at the tiniest hint of cold.

Humans can only adjust up to a certain threshold.

For example, Irish and British winters allow you to ignore weather almost completely (you'll be miserable but you'll probably live), so there's a culture of stoicism, not heating your house above 16-18°C (60-65°F), wearing shorts and sandals (and a Very Big Scarf) when it's snowing and all that.

(I quickly got used to leaving the bathroom window open at 4°C when I was living there. who cares really)

So there's a common misconception that you can do the same with even colder weather.

However, once you are past that adjustment threshold (for most people it takes as little as -5..0°C/23..32°F lasting for more than a month per year) there can be no special built-in resistance to that type of cold (unless you are a yogi or a Taoist monk), instead you learn a bunch of behaviours that help you. You start to preserve warmth religiously.

You also start to differentiate between types of being cold and avoid some of them (some build up over time and it wears you down, so it's best to avoid them entirely). Anything that drops your core temperature (this is noticeable long before you start shivering, shivering is the equivalent of fire alarm) is a huge no. Fingers getting a bit numb from building a snow castle is nothing major though.

It can be hard to unlearn that even if you moved to a warmer place years ago.

Stoic northern characters who have moved to a warmer country are very likely to Complain About The Cold.

They'll start wearing coats at higher temperatures than southerners (because, well, the weather might get worse, or you might stay outside longer than you planned, or move less).

They'll get cold hands more often because their body panics at the tiniest signs of cold and diverts blood to the centre (my first impression of the Irish was how warm everyone was when we shook hands. I'm the same now).

Most will heat their houses to the point where it's possible to walk around in a t-shirt no matter how cold it is outside (those who don't will comment "thank gods that people don't do that in your country, I hated it back home").

They'll whine at +5°C (40°F).

Apart from heavier clothes they'll have a bunch of weird habits like Walking Really Fast when the weather is bad (it's for when you don't want to wear heavier clothes).

They might have a fondness for scarves and good winter shoes (warm shoes and a warm hat are even more important than a warm coat. the lack of hats in fantasy upsets me. scarves are less important but they are pretty).

When locals get surprised they'll reply with "yes, but this is *damp* cold, *dry* cold is different" (it's more complicated than that but this answer usually stops further questions, so we go with that).

It's not like they are actually less cold-resistant, they just take cold more seriously.

At the same time they can be weirdly unbothered by things that freak some of the southerners out because they know how their body deals with low temperatures and which things have no consequences.

(it's not something that you learn from books, it's practical knowledge of what you personally can get away with. for example, I often get completely numb thighs during winter walks, takes an hour to start feeling anything when I get home. but I know it's all right as long as my feet are warm and my core temperature is within normal range)

They also won't suffer consequences when it gets truly cold, while more nonchalant southerners won't notice when they get borderline hypothermic or just cold enough to get sick.

They'll probably consider -30°C (-22°F) exciting. It becomes enjoyable again, because the outside world is now a death zone and there's some macabre fun in resisting it. Oh, and your eyelashes get covered in frost and it looks dope. What's not to like.

Kids will make a point to eat ice cream outside in -30°C (no, they won't get sick from it). I can't explain it, it just works like that.

Generally people from colder countries are not bothered by cold if they can return to a warm place soon enough, it's the prolonged exposure to cold (even mild) they are worried about. Going out for a smoke without a coat is common.

If they are still in a cold country, it's also a bit different from what you expect.

There's a trope of drinking to keep warm. It doesn't work like that. You can drink alcohol to feel warm but not to keep warm and it's an important difference. When it's cold your body's proper response is to constrict blood vessels and to divert blood flow from extremeties to slow down the loss of warmth. Alcohol reverts that.

This means it's perfectly appropriate to drink eggnog or mulled wine at a fair (when you are supposed to get to warmth soon enough, so the illusion of not being cold is not harmful) or hard spirits when you get back from the cold (it will help you warm up faster), but not if you are staying in a cold place. During a hike through winter woods a thermos with sweetened tea and fatty food are your best friends.

Some won't know it and get drunk and frostbitten/hypothermic. People are stupid.

Food gets weird, fats start to seem even tastier than usual. People in Antarctic expeditions are known to crave sticks of butter. In certain weather sandwiches with frozen lard are delicious.

Anything can and will be made into tea.

Some tropes I personally disagree with.

Pain. Pain levels depend on the weather. Cold eases any kind of external pain (cuts or burns) but makes worse anything internal (broken bones, cramps, most headaches).

Hypothermia feels nothing like peacefully falling asleep. It's the most miserable state I've ever experienced, psychological trauma doesn't even come close.

Well, maybe there are people who do fall asleep but other people I've talked to seem to share my experience.

I'm not sure how exactly it works, I think it messes up your self-regulation, since most chemicals in your body require a certain temperature range to work properly. Basically you become Not Yourself. Your emotions go whack (usually it's either extreme self-pity or extreme anger). It feels awful. I hope you never get to experience it.

Most of us don't really miss cold.

Well, some perverts do, but there's a general consensus that cold is awful.

We do miss some things that only happen during cold days though. The stillness and the quiet or how pretty snow looks. How bright the stars are on a clear night. The colour of sunsets and twilight sky when it's freezing.

(in my opinion, the best experience happens around -5°C, it's already pretty but the world is not a death zone yet)

There's also an appreciation of contrast with things that are Not Snow.

Walking from the cold into a greenhouse with orchids.

Watching a blizzard rage outside your window while you sit in warmth with a cup of tea.

Jumping into a lake straight out of a sauna (then going back. do not do that if you have a heart condition).

Fireplaces. Holiday food. Mulled wine. Saffron in pastry.

There's also a lot of beauty in the world that is frozen. I keep stumbling upon the fact no one around me shares these experiences anymore and it saddens me.

The xylophone sound of first ice being broken by a passing boat.

Sea moving under the ice — when it's not too thick it rises and falls like some large animal breathing.

The whale-song-like sounds of ice cracking on large lakes.

There's a very special mood of waiting for first snow. The world is too cold and dark without it and then you wake up one night from the sudden quietness (snow muffles all sounds) and you know it's there even before you look out of the window,

There's the exhiliration of spring. The moment when the wind starts to have a scent — thawing snow smells a bit like watermelons but clearer. Winter smells like nothing at all.

The first tiny yellow flowers in mud. They are our hanami.

(I don't think anyone in Europe truly appreciates spring if they are not from Nordic or Baltic countries)

There's a certain attunement to the scent of ice too.

Like that barely perceptible tingle in the air in late September, long before you can see any ice.

I feel the scent of ice when there's wind from the right part of the Atlantic. No one ever notices but it's there. I love it.

It's nostalgic in a way.

But it's never missing the cold itself for me. For very few people it is, I think.

*

This is, of course, personal perspective and my experience is not universal. I'm a person from continental climate with harsh winters and hot summers and a city dweller with occasional visit to country houses and a tiny bit of mountaineering experience.

An indigenous person from a place with barely any summer or a character from a fantasy everwinter country will probably differ from me.

There are, after all, simply people who genuinely love cold. A lot of them. It is, however, not the default northerner's experience.

But hey, it's still more complex than it's usually written.

*

If you want to read something focused on winter descriptions, there's Smilla's Sense of Snow by Peter Høeg.

It's hauntingly beautiful prose and the main character is from Greenland.

‘It’s freezing, an extraordinary -18 °C, and it’s snowing, and in the language which is no longer mine, the snow is qanik – big, almost weightless crystals falling in stacks and covering the ground with a layer of pulverized white frost.’

And then there's Moominland Midwinter. I think it gets better when you read it as an adult and it's probably still the best thing I have ever read about winter solstice.

Anyway.

I think we need more good winter stories.

[theshitpostcalligrapher]

OPENASKBOX TIME HERE ARE THE GROUND RULES

1) Funny- the request needs to be humorous, memes usually the most popular but dnd in jokes and other shitpostery is welcome. i abide by the MBMBAM NO BUMMERS rule - there are plenty of sad/deep/beautiful calligraphers out there who’d be happy to work with yall, but this isn’t that sort of channel

2) Length - aim for no more than 75 characters a request, my cue cards are only so big so I can only fit so much on each one and still not look like garbage. There is a little leeway but if you send me smth with like 120 characters it aint getting written

3) Amount of Requests - I am trying to be fair but i am one person running almost the ENTIRE thing, logistics, tech, etc, I have twitch mods and a roommate for retrieving things and that's it. In order to be fair, please restrict yourselves to 3 requests per person to let everyone have a shot, if you send in more i will ctrl-f your username and pick my favourites

4) Content - I will not do anything I consider under the umbrella of general assholery - this includes racial slurs, edgelord bullshit, exclusionist jackassery etc. Please be kind to each other. Please let me know if I’ve taken a request that is some incredibly obscure piece of assholery, someone once tried to slip a really obscure antisemetic piece of slang by me once

5) Repeats - I keyword tag EVERY SINGLE piece i’ve ever done on this blog, if you think I might have written smth already but aren’t sure, the /search/[keyword] is your friend, check if i’ve done your request before

the proper inbox is theshitpostcalligrapher.tumblr.com/ask , not a dm or submission to the blog. I’ll close submissions too so people don’t get the boxes confused. DM me for any actual clarifications, kind words, etc so they don’t get swallowed up by the behemoth of my askbox for months, but I will probably NOT see my tumblr dms until the event is OVER. If you need to flag me down RIGHT AWAY you're GOING to have to go over to twitch chat ask there.

the BEST CHANCE of getting it written live today is to send in your requests with 3 different asks within the first hour or so of the stream going live. after the first hour, it's not gonna matter if it's in one or three asks cuz I'll be scheduling them out in advance and everything that follows the rules above will get written eventually

If you want to jump the ENTIRE queue and get your card done immediately, there are ways to donate on the twitch stream to get your request done with an ink of your choice. You can still submit 3 free requests in addition to what you pay for.

I’ll be streaming the entire time the askbox is open on twitch @ miathecalligrapher, trying to get as many of these done today as possible live. Once 10PM EST hits, the askbox will close but if you get your request into the askbox by then, it will be done eventually as I always have 4 cards up per day.

Here’s the link to my twitch, we’ll start a little after 2 o’clock EST.

Here is a direct donation link to my streamlabs, it works like a ko-fi but I’ve got it set to give me alerts on my twitch so I can see and thank you straightaway for supporting my takeout order

If you would like to receive the card you buy/request for, physically in the mail, here is the shop link:

feel free to dm me first to discuss discounting if you'd like multiple of your cards in a bundle

if you subscribe to my channel on a regular basis, I'll keep your cards back and send them out periodically regardless

there'll be 2 donation goals - one as a forty dollar threshold for ordering food, and the other one will be set at $160 since that's ABOUT the equivalent of living wage for the amount of time I'll be streaming.

[the-artist-grimm]

Crimson Angel AU Overview - The Lamb, Anthea

Crimson Angel AU, or better viewed as ‘Blood Soaked Angel AU’, is a Cult of the Lamb AU based around the Lamb, Anthea, a seemingly kind, friendly, and optimistic person just eager to help. Yet in reality, much of their actions stem from a mix of guilt over surviving, and a lingering desperation to cling to the way they were raised-to put everyone else’s needs above their own and to bury any negative emotion out of fear of being ‘selfish’. They are an 'angel' eager to help anyone in need, even if that means they bleed themselves dry. The main themes of the AU are learning to communicate and express your emotions and needs to your loved ones, themes of how negative family dynamics can affect a person, and letting go.

Background of the Lamb

Lamb’s Family Overview 

Prior to becoming a vessel, the Lamb was but an older sister, the eldest child of 4 raised with the understanding that in a time of genocide and strife, there was no room to be ‘selfish’. That with Papa serving as the village's supply runner, it was Anthea's job to help ease Mama's burden at home, especially once the twins Lindel and Garrick were born when the lamb was but 4. The first-born was the one meant to handle the burdens of growing up to soon, so that at the very least, the other children could play a little longer. Anthea was to be the example, and all her things were to share. Nothing was ever truly hers because it was better to pass things down, and complaining about it would be selfish when their village was already just barely getting by, as well-hidden from danger as it was. It was lucky that sometimes Papa would take her with him on trips to teach her the routes, though at the time, Anthea never understood why he looked so sad when asking if things were too much back home. Since after all, what was there to complain about? The lamb was alive and could help out her family-that was enough.

Even as Papa died when she was 8 and that left Anthea no choice but to take up his mantle (no one else had the courage to do the same). Even as two brothers became 3 only a week after his death and Mama suddenly needed help more than ever, it was fine. It was fine because that's just what big sisters had to do and she could handle it.

It was the older sister’s job to handle it.

Just as it was the older sister’s job to keep everyone safe, at least until after one standard, uneventful supply trip at age 12, Anthea returned to find that the entire village had been razed to the ground, with not a single person nor body left behind. There was only blood mixed with the ashes of her home, and scraps of cloth that looked so, so similar to what the boys had been wearing just before she'd left. Even after weeks of wandering a kindhearted rat named Ratau finally found and took her in, Anthea was still an older sister. An older sister who had failed, and was now left with this void of purpose. And thus she clung to that old title-clung to that role of self-sacrifice and bottling things up. Because that was her job, and that was all she knew how to do. The boys deserved to live more than her-they were so, so young she'd been 12 they'd had so much more life to give than she, and thus she knew damn well that she better not complain because of that.

The God of Death

Whilst in Ratau’s care, the lamb at first was just going through the motions. Never crying, but not quite settling in either. That was until Anthea came across a collection of books left from Ratau's time as vessel. A collection of books about a fifth bishop, a kind bishop, a God of Death who greeted the departed with gentle hands and soft words, walking with them before seeing them across the Threshold to what lied beyond. A god so unlike the cruel, merciless bishops the lamb had known of, that for the first time in weeks, the lamb felt at ease. If those books were true, then someone kind was there to greet her family after they faced the most brutal of deaths, and though that god was chained now, that just meant he deserved Anthea's worship even more. She created a little alter beside her cot in Ratau’s shack and would prayed nightly to him, then spent her days helping Ratau around the house, learning how to defend herself from heretics from his friend Shrumy, learning how to survive via making potions from Ratau's husband Flinky, how to set traps and barter from another friend Klunk with his buddy Bop, all while secretly awaiting the day she would meet this kindly god, since as much as she enjoyed this life with Ratau and everyone, it was one lived on borrowed time.

Execution

The Lamb faced execution at age 26, and it was a death she welcomed as it was a trade for Ratau. The two had been careless whilst walking home one afternoon and were jumped-a lamb and a former crown-vessel were fine prizes to have, and Ratau was injured during the chase. Having long accepted that she was meant to die, Anthea simply picked up her sword, drew the heretics away, and prayed that her father figure had escaped, knowing that so long as he lived, that would be enough. And yet when the axe fell and Anthea died as the last lamb, the god she finally got to meet wasn’t quite like that of the books and stories she'd managed to get from Ratau. He of Death was tall and grand-with glowing red eyes beneath a dark veil, yet he was shackled in place by bloodied, iron chains, with his dirty robes torn and stained. His arms were stripped down to bone, smelling of rot, and worst of all-though he appeared to hide it as she was beckoned to approach, he was in clear pain. That kindly god she'd grown to worship was chained in such a dreadful state and in pain, and to Anthea's horror-he wasn’t alone. Two kits just barely in adolescence were there by his sides. Two kits whom were black cats just as he was, which made the Lamb wonder how could the bishops be so cruel as to not only chain their kin, but to lock his children with him?

(They had thought the twins his biological children then, but even after learning the truth later, it was clear that regardless of blood the boys were his)

When asked to built a cult in his name the lamb accepted it without hesitation. She had survived her village where she should have died, and even after dying for Ratau, here she was being offered to live again where someone else deserved it more. If this is what her god ordered, then this must be why she lived.

The lamb would fight and die so long as it meant the betterment of someone else's life.

Bishops Arc

Anthea’s time as vessel was a mix between managing the cult and continuously being drawn back to the Gateway by the image of the children, Baal and Aym. Those two little boys who brought back memories of her own little brothers, yet were also two little boys so unlike Garrick and Lindel, that didn't seem to know how to act as kids... Unable to shake the instinct, the Lamb began to try and interact with them whenever she came to report to TOWW, yet each time the boys seemed startled at even a simple hello. What finally broke through the ice was giving the boys a book she had read to her own brothers as a child-and at learning the two couldn't read, offered to teach them how as well.

Yet through befriending the kits Anthea also began to break through to TOWW as well-the god's melancholic, stoic mask gradually cracking as he questioned their reasonings. Why bother with the kits? Most vessels ignored them. Why ask if he needed anything for them or himself besides the Bishops dead? He could manage just fine. Why offer to show him the world via the crown? Why try to talk? Why waste the time? Why do any of this that was not required? Did they wish something to gain? Anthea's reply of simply wanting to make his and the kits more comfortable only seemed to just confuse him more, and it made them sad.

(Which ah, wasn't that something? Them...He Who Waits and the kits helped them realize that. For so long 'she' sometimes didn't feel right, even as a child, but Anthea had always ignored it since there was never the time and more 'important' things to worry about than their own discomforts. It took the three's help to realize that 'he' and 'they' were options too, and that gender could be fluid)

Seeing him think simple kindnesses with no strings attached was unthinkable hurt the lamb. It hurt them to realize that someone being kind to him just to be kind was rare.

In the same vein TOWW started questioning them on other thing too. Why did they awake screaming from nightmares, why did they hide when they were hurt? Why did they seem so, so set on pleasing everyone, yet just as set on ignoring themself?

They started balancing the other out-Anthea would call out on TOWW being unkind to himself, and he the same in turn. A friendship, it seemed, of two people who understood and saw the other's plight. Gradually Anthea's heart started to flutter with every visit, and after constant nightly deaths kept scaring the cult, they start talking to him via the crown long into the night till falling asleep, needing his voice to sleep in peace, but that was normal for friends, it was easier to talk at night and they just had so much to say. And the boys-the boys were there too, such sweet, gentle kits. Seeing them learn how to play, how much they adored their father-seeing such a happy little family despite the cruelty of the situation...freeing them would be worth everything.

Yet in the back of their mind though the lamb couldn't help but wonder-why did the Bishops chain their brother? TOWW's only answer was that they hated him, and yet...Leshy died with a look of resignation on his face. Heket died cursing herself. Kallamar died calling himself a failure of an older brother-so why? How could anyone resent their own kin so much?

(The Garrick and Lindel had destroyed their orginal copy of the same book they'd given Aym and Baal, once. Papa had given it to Anthea shortly before his death, a rare, precious type of gift to find with books so rare, and strictly had told everyone that no one else was to touch it-that it was all hers alone. Yet the boys colored all over it during Anthea's second time running Papa's routes, when Mama was too busy nursing baby Oliver to realize until it was too late.

Yet Anthea had just smiled and said it was alright, that the boys were 4, that they didn't know better, even as they wished to scream themselves hoarse.

A big sister can't resent)

As Shamura's domain came in line however Anthea began to reminisce. The anniversary of their family's loss have come up and...and it had been a long time since they visited, hadn't it? Nearly 3 years a vessel, plus the 14 years since that day, they had been 12 then but were nearly 29 now, and they finally had the strength to go back without dying so...they asked TOWW tentatively if he could accompany them somewhere via the crown, and without hesitation he agreed. They took him there with a bouquet of flowers in hand and...and they just broke.

They failed...They failed....They failed. Their family was dead because of them, weren't they? They must’ve done something, Anthea could’ve saved them had they gotten home sooner, or maybe they weren’t as careful coming or going and that’s why they were gone. For the first time the Lamb broke down, and as they swore that they’d get him and the kits out-that even if it took their permanent death they were getting his family out, suddenly their god-their friend was telling them no and to never think such a thing again.

The One Who Waits told them that either he was leaving the Gateway with them by his side or he wasn't leaving at all, and for the first time...Anthea was first. He was willing to stay there if that meant they could live (it was likely a figure of speech they assumed but...but he'd waited so long for his freedom. Yet he refused to hear about leaving without them. No one...one had ever said something so...selfless to them of all people before). Something squeezed inside their chest and ah, the realized it now, that’s why they were so open with him. Why they so desperately want to talk to him, be near him, to free him and his kits. They had fallen in love, hadn’t they?

‘Either you leave this place at my side or I don’t leave here at all. You’re leaving here with me’ 

They…they wanted that. For the first time in their life, Anthea wanted that. That selfish, selfish little desire to live freely, to live with someone-to do what their kind and their brothers never could, to make a choice and have something of their own, they wanted that and if their god wanted that too then maybe...maybe it was ok.

TOWW stayed with them via the crown till their tears ran dry, then gently pushed them to go home-home to Ratau and their teenhood bedroom and cot, telling them that the cult could manage a night and that they should go see their adopted Dad and Pa and not be alone on this night.

And thus left to their thoughts Anthea started to think. In sheep culture it was tradition to use your own wool to weave a sash for your beloved, as a show of devotion and an oath of commitment, and often given as a sign of courtship or a proposal. TOWW's words weren’t romantic, they couldn’t have been romantic, but that was alright, Anthea didn't mind. This was just to be a symbolic promise to him and themself-they were going to live, and live with him.

The Betrayal

From there by day they were taking on Silk Cradle, and by night, sneaking off to their old loom at Ratau’s with the crown’s eye turned away-a request for privacy their god always honored, to work on their gift. They usually spoke with TOWW before falling asleep, but he seemed to buy their excuses as to why they couldn't-that they were helping a follower, needed some more rest, had other things more imperative to do as sorry as they were, and as much as they missed their talks they wanted this sash done before he was freed.

During the cradle Shamura would ramble on about betrayals whenever they appeared and the Lamb would ask again how could someone ever betray their own kin-Shamura would spat that the lamb didn't understand what it meant to be the eldest sibling, and the Lamb always would reply that they did before the god would disappear. 

The sash was completed a week before Shamura finally fell, and with favors cashed in to ensure they’d be able to get their god, no, Narinder alone enough to give it to him once freed.

(Shamura had said his name the first they appeared in the Cradle. Anthea had died shortly after, and when calling TOWW Narinder in the Gateway it had put such a sweet, flustered look of surprise on his face that they made sure to do it again and again until he scooped them to dangle them upside down out of mock frustration, cracking a smile as the Lamb had hung laughing and squirming before he placed them back down.

It had felt so wonderful to say, to make him smile like that-they loved him so much that it was the closest they'd ever let themself get to saying an 'I love you')

When stepping into to the gateway for what should have been the final time, Anthea barely had a moment before two kits had barreled in for a hug they eagerly returned-knowing that their boys finally were going to come home, that Narinder was coming home with them-but as he called the two back and the Lamb forward something...something felt different.

It had been a week since they last talked to him or saw him, now that they though about it. He seemed so…so sad for a moment before his expression shifted.

“Vessel…” he had said in a voice, so, so unlike him. So unfeeling, so cold. “I relinquish you from your service to the Red Crown. Return it to me, and embrace the end that awaits. With this sacrifice of my most devoted follower, I will be freed. Approach, and lay your life down at me feet”

Anthea had been stunned. The kits, too, stood in shock. Then came the rattling of chains, then two cages dropping down-filled to the brim with their friends, their followers, Ratau and Flinky- (Dad and Pa had been at the Cult to finish setting up. Anthea had spent the remainder of the week after Shamura's death prepping everything, but their perfectionism had taken hold. The rat and snake had to practically shove them onto the dais they were so nervous to go)

Just what was he talking about? Sacrificing themself...what?

“You who plans betrayal has lost the right to your life. I know of your plan to usurp power, and will not be chained again.”

Betrayal, usurp? Since when...where did he ever get a horrible, unthinkable idea?

Even the kits tried speaking up and asking just what he was saying-if he was ok? What was happening???

(Their heart felt like it was cracking within their chest-)

Narinder hesitated a moment, then, ordered Aym to return to his side, and for Baal to fight the traitor. All three looked at each other in shock, and when he asked again, hesitantly fell into place.

"We'll just...just spar-" Baal had whispered as they parted. "He hasn't been acting himself lately...maybe that'll snap him out of it?" Anthea didn't really get a chance to ask what he meant, because Narinder ordered them a third time.

The blows they traded were meaningless-light parries of sun-spear and sword, evenly matched. Anthea had sparred with the twins countless times before, the boys knew their rhythm just as much as Anthea knew theirs, so it was easy to avoid any lethal hit. It was easy, until Baal unexpectedly threw his weapon the other way to knock Anthea's balance off, and leapt right into their oncoming slash. Red blood appeared over his chest- red blood VERY much splattering as an artery would. Blood that then roared in Anthea's ears as they caught him falling without even realizing it, with Aym bolting to their sides.

He was fading...he was saying something...he was fading, he was-he was ash. Black ash that fell from their fingertips and blew away in the wind. There one moment, gone the next.

They...they killed him.

Before Narinder or anyone else could say anything Aym's magic was suddenly surging-with Anthea staggering back on instinct from the fiery heat.

"If you want us to fight then we'll fight!" he raged, and Anthea was dodging.

Ash on their fingers, blood on their clothes-they refused to fight, started begging Aym to stop, to calm down, he was going to hurt himself calm down-but nothing could get through and when a spell was suddenly hurled at the cages Anthea was too overwhelmed to think of the consequences as they just threw up an ice curse as a shield. A shield that exploded on impact, piercing ice shards shattering across the field. Shattering, and impaling Aym in the stomach.

They were aware as they caught him falling and pulled him into their embrace. They pressed down on the wound as tears spilled from their eyes and it took but a moment to finally realize just what happened.

He knew they'd defend the cages. Baal knew how to force a strike. They...they were trying to get hurt, weren't they?

"Heh...d-dumb plan...s-sorry..." Aym had whispered, blood dripping from his mouth, body breaking apart. "B-baba-"

Then scattered to the wind.

And ah wasn't that funny? They never realized how much they wanted to hear one of the twins call them that but...but there went his ashes, slipping through their fingertips...

Anthea keeled over, and screamed. The piercing, sobbing wails of a parent who just watched their children die in their arms. And then they vaguely heard Narinder's voice (they'd missed how it shook back then) and saw the shadow of his hand and suddenly it was all just red.

Anthea didn't really remember the fight, just that since all four of his chains had been broken Narinder managed to dodge their first blazing curse, and with the fifth at his throat clanking, the battle commenced. It wasn't until eldritch beast was transformed into a bloodied black cat drowning in giant, ichor-soaked robes that Anthea realized the crown's blade was pressed against a neck, with a thin line of ichor already tricking down his throat. How easy would it be to finish it...to hack away till he was but ash as well but...but they couldn't. Staggering back trembling they couldn't kill him-

(They loved him-)

Anthea sent him to the cult, helped everyone down, and they all warped home. And there on the dais in nothing but his own fur Anthea saw Narinder, The One Who Waits, Their God, the Reaper, and the argument started.

He listened in, he listened in they learned. He overheard them finishing the sash but only part of the conversation and not only went against his promise of privacy but took an out of context conversation as proof of them being a traitor??? Did he think that lowly of them!?? That after all they've been through, all they've done they would just...just betray him???

They were making him a gift. They were making him a gift how could he ever think they were going to betray him how even-a crowd had gathered and was watching, and suddenly Anthea felt like they were going to be sick.

"Show's over, back to work. Nona watch over the reaper, and leave me alone-"

They locked themselves into the temple without bothering to see everyone's response for the rest of the day, fell to their knees, and cried. For their sons. For their broken heart. For that damn sash, tucked into its gift-box hidden still inside the chest at the foot of their bed.

The next day the lamb ignored that the Reaper was not anywhere in sight, and ignored how Nona kept trying to talk to them about him. They simply put on a smile, and tended to their flock.

Don't complain, don't be selfish. People are relying on you, and it doesn't matter how you feel.

A thousand year old cycle repeats. 

Boarders are by @lambouillet

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Caffeine

Caffeine - A mild alkaloid stimulant made by some plants.

Found in coffee beans, tea leaves, and cocoa beans; added to soft drinks, energy drinks, and energy bars; and sold in capsules and tablets as a dietary supplement.

A mild stimulant. It is used to temporarily relieve fatigue and increase mental alertness. Caffeine is added to some antihistamine drugs to help counteract the sleepiness they may cause. It is also added to over-the-counter headache remedies (e.g., Excedrin) and migraine headache drugs to enhance their painkilling effects. Under medical supervision, citrated caffeine (a prescription drug) is used to treat breathing problems in premature infants.

From the Italian word cafée, meaning "coffee", is naturally made by about 60 plants. The most familiar of these are coffee leaves and beans, tea leaves, kola nuts, yerba mate, guarana berries, and cacao (the source of chocolate). In plants, caffeine is a pesticide. Insects eating plants that contain caffeine become disabled or die.

It has no nutritional value. But there seem to be some benefits to regular caffeine consumption, despite conflicting research.

Effects on the Body

Increases heart rate

Temporarily increases blood pressure

Relaxes smooth muscle cells in the airways

Releases fatty acids and glycerol in the body for energy use

Easily crosses the blood-brain barrier and changes the level of neurotransmitters in the brain

Passes into breast milk

Caffeine is absorbed in the stomach.

Its effects are noticeable in about 15 minutes and usually last several hours.

However, there is a huge variation among people both in their sensitivity to caffeine and in how long it stays in their bodies.

Although the average time it takes half a dose of caffeine to be eliminated from the body is 3-4 hours, this time may extend to 6 hours in women taking oral contraceptives; much longer in pregnant women and in people with liver damage.

Many well-designed, well-documented studies show that caffeine makes people more alert, improves short-term memory, enhances the ability to concentrate, increases the individual’s capacity for physical work, and speeds up reaction time.

In habitual caffeine drinkers, caffeine achieves this by preventing the detrimental effects of withdrawal.

It does not boost functioning to above normal levels.

All of these effects are temporary.

Caffeine does not replace the need for rest or sleep.

Caffeine Withdrawal

Discontinuing caffeine among regular users can cause withdrawal symptoms. These can include:

Headaches (very common)

Irritability

Nausea

Fatigue

Sleepiness

Inability to concentrate

Mild depression

Caffeine withdrawal symptoms begin 12–24 hours after caffeine is stopped.

Withdrawal symptoms peak at around 48 hours, and can last up to 5 days.

Tapering caffeine use, for example cutting down on caffeine by the equivalent of half a cup of coffee (about 50 mg) a day, minimizes or eliminates withdrawal symptoms.

Caffeinism

People who consume more than 500 mg of caffeine a day—equivalent to about five cups of coffee—may develop a condition called caffeinism, though the threshold varies among individuals.

Produces unpleasant sensations, some of which are similar to withdrawal symptoms. Symptoms of Caffeine Overuse include:

Restlessness

Irritability

Nervousness

Anxiety

Muscle twitching

Headaches

Inability to fall asleep

A racing heart

Related Disorders

Severe overuse of caffeine can cause a number of related disorders, including:

Caffeine Intoxication—usually the result of taking caffeine pills (e.g., NoDoz), this condition causes mental changes, rambling thoughts and speech, irregular heartbeat, and other symptoms associated with overuse. In severe cases death can result from ventricular fibrillation (unsynchronized contractions of the ventricle of the heart).

Caffeine-Induced Anxiety Disorder—severe anxiety that interferes with daily social interactions and occurs after caffeine intoxication or heavy long-term use of caffeine.

Caffeine-Induced Sleep Disorder—an inability to sleep that is so great it requires medical/psychiatric attention and occurs after prolonged caffeine consumption.

Non-Specific Caffeine-Induced Disorder—disorders not listed that are attributable to either acute or long-term caffeine consumption.

Source ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References ⚜ Describing Food ⚜ Cocktails

[heartpiratedrabbles]

Kids Anger

Prompt: Kid and you have a huge fight, and in anger, Kid tells you to leave

~ Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Kid X Fem Reader X Killer

Killer watched the two of you fight as he often did. He learned early on which fights to step into to become the peacemaker and which ones to stay out of. You were yelling at Kid for going out of his way to fight a Marine ship and while everyone was alive, quite a few people were injured and the boat needed some major repairs. Even you had been shot in the shoulder during the battle amongst other injuries.

        “We won, didn’t we?! Why don’t you shut the fuck up and get off my goddamn back then” Kid was laying it on thick he was towering over you and it had been long since the rest of the crew made themselves scarce from your fight. Killer was in the corner leaning against the wall but you knew better than to try and get him to pick sides.

        “That’s not the point Kid. It was senseless, We got hurt for no reason, Not to mention the damage to Victoria Punk!” You were after all in charge of the crew's finances. A job Kid had given to you when he was too drunk to pay something off and it turned into plundering the entire village. We were never truly low on berries, Kid made sure of that, but you still would like to keep it above a certain threshold. “Nobody died this time but what about next time!?” It was another great concern of yours, Kid had already lost an arm and it took him god knows how long to wake up from that. It’s a sight you’d rather not relive.

        The two of you had been fighting for quite some time on the matter and neither side seemed to be letting up in this argument as both of you shot daggers at each other. “If I decide we attack that’s final. I’m you’re captain it shouldn’t matter what you think.” Kid slammed his fist into the wall right next to you. You tried not to flinch at the sudden and aggressive movement but couldn’t help but let out a little gasp, deciding to stare straight into his chest rather than make eye contact after such a weak display. “You can’t even fight, what do you even do around here to dare think you should even get a say in what I decide?!” Killer perks his head up at the sudden change the argument was taking. “A useless bitch like you should just stay out of the way” Your breath hitches at his word and you hear Killer yell Kid's name.

        You straighten your back, glancing up at your captain, blinking tears to stay away. His glare back at you is menacing and pissed, Your voice turns lower but unwavering, “If that’s how you feel..”

        “Feelings have nothing to do with this, facts are I let an absolute useless person onto this ship” His words dripping with venom that stung more than your shoulder, “If you can’t even listen to your captain's order maybe you should just leave.” It took a second for his words to sink in, waiting for him to retract his statement. But soon enough you whisper a fine under your breath before turning away and leaving the room. You could hear Killer starting his own fight with Kid at this point but it didn’t matter.

        You make your way to the captain's room, it’s where the three of you stayed after all, and start packing anything of yours that could fit into a single bag. You wince a bit as your shoulder starts to bleed from a sudden movement but still refuse to let tears escape. You look in the mirror once more, noticing just how tattered and covered in blood your clothes were, deciding to change into clean clothes one last time before continuing packing. Once the bag is full you head back to the deck and climb down a rope into the debris-ridden water below. You remember seeing a rowboat across the way from the now half sunk marine ship and you intended to use it.

~~~

        “What the fuck Kid” Killer gripped Kid's shoulder and turned him around as he could see y/n escape into the hallway, “What was that all about?” Killer couldn’t believe the words he had just heard from his captain and lover's mouth.

        “She fucken deserved it. What makes her think she can boss me around?” Kid was obviously still pissed beyond belief, huffing with anger in every breathe. He brushes past Killer, “If you need me I’ll be in my workshop.” Killer let out an exasperated sigh before trying to go find y/n on the ship.

~~~

By the time anyone had noticed you were gone, you had already found a row boat and started drifting away in the opposite direction of the ship.

Killer had told the rest of the crew to tell him when they find you but he had only assumed you needed some space after such a heated debate. He didn’t even bother to check the Captain’s Quarters, he doubted you wanted to be in such a place right now, if anything you’d be in a corner hitting the wall or a tight space to breathe and calm down. But as time went on, he grew increasingly more concerned at not hearing or seeing you.

Kid emerged from his workshop a couple of hours after the argument, cooled down a bit, and tired. The sun was long gone as he made his way to his room. In the past, your arguments could get out of hand but Kid could still find you angrily sleeping in his bed next to, or on top of Killer, begrudgingly making room for him. This time on the other, neither you nor killer were in bed, or even in the room for that matter.

He looked around to see your discarded clothes tossed on the ground and he noticed a lot more blood than he’d care to admit, had she been covered in this much when we were fighting? Regardless Kid turned on his heel to search for his two closest crew members.

Soon enough he ran into Hip who was carrying medical supplies, “Oh, Hey Captain. Have you seen y/n? She still hasn’t come to get patched up yet despite promising me she’d come later.” Kid stares at her for a second before she chuckles a bit, “Or did you take care of the wound yourself? How kind. Just remind her to change her bandages.” Kid stood there processing Hips words and she walked away chuckling. She was hurt? Why the fuck did she start a fight before getting treated? Kid started pacing the ship before he ran into an equally worried Killer.

“Kid have you seen y/n?” The taller blonde seemed to be anxious.

“Does it look like I’ve fucken seen her?” Kid snapped at his first mate, “Where the fuck could she have gone?”

~~~

You lay in the boat looking at the sky. The pain in your shoulder growing. You grit your teeth into some clothe as your fingers try to dig the bullet out. After another failed attempt you let out a painful, sorrow filled scream. You had realized a little to late into your little journey that when you were shot, the bullet never made it all the way through.

Truly, it was a great distraction from the events post battle. As you finally breathe in again you let your arm trying to dig the bullet out fall onto the floor of the boat. The adrenaline must have worn off at this point. The pain truly setting in as your mind wanders to what Kid said to you.

Finally, after hours of pretending to be strong. You let it out, you place your now bloodied hand on top of your eyes as the tears overflow.

[justaparsec94]

Reunion

Summary: After being sidelined for weeks by an injury in the field you're finally reunited with your favourite snarky sniper and the rest of your squad.

Pairing: Crosshair x fem!reader

Word Count: 7,246

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Minors be gone, Explicit

Author's Note: I wrote this as second part to my one shot "Sniper" but I think it stands well enough on it's own if you haven't read that one!

*********************

Walking into 79’s was like walking into a wall of sound and heat. It was visceral and made you pause on the threshold, shucking off the jacket you had been wearing to keep the cool night air at bay. You definitely weren’t going to need it as a sudden clamminess, the byproduct of all of the bodies in the place, latched onto your skin.

It was more crowded than you could ever remember it being on any of your previous visits. Though considering you had watched the 501st and 212th arrive on Coruscant earlier you really shouldn’t have been that surprised at the crowded nature of the bar. A quick look around at all the white, blue, and gold armour in the place confirmed that thought.

You slowly began making your way through the throngs of people. The very first time you had come to the bar you had been surprised by the number of non-clones that seemed to frequent the place, and as time went on that number only seemed to grow. You supposed it was a good place to get cheap drinks and meet handsome men. Kriff, that was the reason you were there after all, except you were looking for 4 very specific handsome men, as usual. A quick sweep of the place didn’t reveal any signs of the distinctive squad which likely meant they hadn’t arrived yet. Generally, when The Bad Batch arrived somewhere, everyone knew about it. They didn’t really blend in, no matter how hard they tried to.

You paused as you finished your lap of the bar, fishing your comm out as you tried your best to move away from a particularly loud group of clones.

“Hunter!?” You called into your comm over the chaotic noise surrounding you. You pressed your comm up to your ear and covered the other to try and drown out the thumping music, “Where are you guys?”

The sergeant’s response was barely audible over the noise of the bar, “ETA 10 minutes.”

You groaned, “Any chance you can hustle and cut that time down?”

“Negative,” Hunter responded with a hint of laughter in his voice, “Crosshair is in a mood.”

Well, that certainly wasn’t new. What was new was the fact that you were currently alone at the bar. Usually, when you attended you were with the Batch or with your friends but tonight had you flying solo. You sighed knowing that even over the noise Hunter would be able to hear you, “Alright, I’ll try and find a table.”

You disconnected your comm, tucking it back into the form-fitting bodice of your dress. You tugged once on the hem somewhat self-consciously before you started picking your way through the crowd. Your dress wasn’t even anything overly fancy, a simple black strapless body con dress that ended just above your knees. In fact, compared to a lot of the outfits currently in the place it was quite tame but it was very different from the scrubs and clogs you usually rolled up to the bar in, and that made you fidget. But as you had been getting ready that night you had thought a special occasion called for a special outfit. And you may or may not have been thinking of a particular silver-haired clone when you had pulled the dress from your closet, but no one needed to know that.

A night out at 79’s with the Bad Batch was rare for several reasons. One: because they were stationed on Kamino and were rarely called to Coruscant and, two: because they often received temporary bans from the bar for inevitably ending up in fights every time they entered the place. But this trip in particular was special because you hadn’t seen your squad in ages. A horrible ankle injury on your last mission had left you sidelined for weeks. It had been a long and hard recovery after multiple surgeries. And even after all the rehab you’d had you still had only just managed to squeak out clearance to return to the field. You had missed your squad desperately during that time. They had checked up on you throughout your recovery, some of them more than once. Wrecker because he was kind and Tech because he was convinced you were not receiving proper medical treatment. But it just wasn’t the same as being with them nearly 24/7.

Even Crosshair had reached out to you, which you hadn’t really expected. He wasn’t the most sentimental type so when a message popped up from his frequency you had honestly been surprised. You might be harbouring the galaxy's largest crush on the snarky sniper but you were fairly certain your feelings were not returned. Though it truthfully was hard to tell considering his outwardly expressed emotional range was rather limited. You knew there was a lot more going on inside of him than he let people think but it was easy to miss if you didn’t look close enough.

A part of you had hoped that after your ordeal the two of you might have grown a little closer, it had been Crosshair after all who had tended to your injury before fully carrying you down a mountain. But the message you had received from him had been a typical Crosshair quip. Are you still alive?

You had been so high on pain medication that you couldn’t remember much about the incident but you did remember Crosshair. You remembered the concern on his face, not the exact words but the reassuring way he had spoken to you, the way he had held you, stayed with you, and comforted you on The Marauder. You knew you had said things to him but for the life of you couldn’t remember what. You just hoped it hadn’t been anything too embarrassing or anything that might have jeopardized the tenuous friendship you seemed to have with him. You ached every time you thought of how surprisingly gentle his touch had been but it seemed that it had simply been the action of one teammate looking out for the other.

You put aside the thoughts of anything that may or may not be happening between you and Crosshair as you continued your journey around the bar looking for a place to sit. You stopped every once and a while to say hello to familiar clones and non-clones alike but still did your best to stay focused on your mission.

“Hey beautiful, do you need a seat?” A large, handsome Devronian male called out to you from a nearby table, halting you in place.

You felt your face flush slightly as he smiled at you, there was no denying he was handsome, and if you hadn’t been completely smitten with a certain emotionally constipated sharpshooter you might have even considered his offer but as it was you simply shook your head politely and continued on your search for a table.

Two laps around the place had you abandoning that mission, every booth was full already and you knew you weren’t about to convince anyone to give up their spot for you. That was a job for the Batch, they could clear a room like no one else, a skill that often came in handy on your nights out.

“Doc!” A familiar voice called suddenly. Your head whipped around towards the source, smiling brightly at the sight of Wrecker towering over everyone else in the bar, waving enthusiastically at you as he muscled his way through the crowd.

You met him halfway, laughing as he scooped you up into his arms, squeezing the air out of you with one of his signature hugs, “We missed ya Doc!”

“I’ve missed you too,” You replied once he had set you down and you had managed to catch your breath once more. Your heart was brimming with happiness at the sight of him, and the sight of his brothers as they pulled up alongside him.

“Good to see you Doc,” Hunter said with a small smile as he reached out to grasp your forearm gently.

Tech shouldered past his brother, cutting off the words you had been about to speak, “Yes, though this reunion is rather premature. Your medical records indicate you are still suffering from the injury to your ankle and would benefit from more time off to fully…”

“Good to see you too Tech,” You replied drily, cutting off his rambling speech. You really shouldn’t have been surprised that he had been accessing your medical records.

Hunter laughed as he clapped a hand on Tech’s shoulder, “What he means to say is that excited to see you too.”

“That is not-“ Tech protested as he looked between you and Hunter, “Not that I am not excited, I am, Doc is an integral part of our team…”

Whatever else Tech was saying was lost to the hum of 79’s as the one person you had been waiting to see the most finally stepped into view.

Crosshair looked the same as he always did, arms crossed over his chest, toothpick in his mouth as he shot a dry look at his brothers before his attention focused on you. Your heart kicked up a notch as you looked at him, you hadn’t realized just how much you had truly missed him until this moment.

The slow sweep of his gaze traveling over you felt like a physical touch, his eyes lingered over your chest, the curve of your waist, and hips for the barest hint of a moment before moving on. It made you feel molten inside.

He paused once he reached your feet, one eyebrow canting up minutely as he met your eyes once more, the barest hint of a smirk gracing his face.

“Sensible,” He snarked, his eyes flicking from your eyes down to your shoes. You had chosen a very comfortable pair of leather and cork sandals and while they were not the most stylish they were comfortable. And after nearly snapping your foot right off comfort was key.

You laughed, shaking your head in mock annoyance, “Oh stuff it Cross. I need the arch support!”

“Ok, Grandma,” He teased as your eyes tracked the toothpick in his mouth as it swapped from one side to the other. His dark eyes were shining with amusement, “Do we need to have you home to bed by a certain time too?”

“This is already past my bedtime so you should consider yourself lucky that I’m even here,” you teased right back, smiling brightly up at him.

He took a step towards you, crowding into your space. He was suddenly so close that you had to tilt your head up to maintain his gaze. You felt like a live wire in his proximity, your pulse raced in your veins. You felt his breath whisper against your skin as he spoke, his eyes sweeping over you once more, “Hmm, lucky me indeed.”

His dark eyes were swimming with something that made your heart pound against your ribs. If he kept looking at you like that you honestly felt like you might melt into a puddle of lovestruck goo on the floor.

“Are you two done?” Wrecker asked in his typical booming voice, causing the two of you to jump apart in surprise, “I want a drink!”

“Then go get one,” Crosshair snapped, glaring at his brother. He hadn’t moved away from you though, if anything he had only gotten closer as though to shield you from his brother and everyone else in the bar. You felt overheated as his hand gently brushed against the small of your back.

“I’ll have a Fuzzy Tauntaun,” You replied, tipping your head back to look at Wrecker. The rest of the Batch took your lead and gave Wrecker their drink orders, much to his disappointment.

“Awe man,” He grumbled, “I hate carrying drinks.”

“I will assist you,” Tech supplied, “The others can find us a table since Doc was unsuccessful.”

“It’s busy!” You protested as the two brothers headed off towards the bar, calling after them, “I tried my best!”

“You’re just not intimidating enough,” Crosshair said lowly, still closer than what was likely considered professional for two members of a squad, but you didn’t care. Having him this close to you was something right out of one of your fantasies.

You looked back up at him, a smile growing on your face, “Yeah, that’s your job.”

He let out a soft bark of laughter before he finally moved away from you. You frowned at his sudden absence but did your best to mask your disappointment. With a soft sigh, you followed after him and Hunter in their search for a table.

They were able to accomplish what you hadn’t in under five minutes, scaring a batch of shinies out of a table near the back wall of the bar. They preferred places where the lights and sounds of the dance floor weren’t so overwhelming and the shadows gave Hunter more of the anonymity he preferred and the perfect vantage point of everything going on that Crosshair liked.

“How have you been feeling, Doc?” Hunter asked as you slid into the booth after him. Crosshair slid in beside you, leaving very little space between the two of you as he settled. He casually leaned against the back of the booth, his arms spreading out along the back of the seat on either side of him, toothpick hanging out of his mouth like usual as his long legs stretched out beneath the table. He wasn’t technically touching you but it almost felt as if he was. You did your best to ignore the feeling of his long and lean body beside you as you looked over at Hunter who had settled himself in the curve of the booth leaving the other side open for Tech and Wrecker.

“Better. I can’t say that was the most fun I’ve ever had but it definitely could have been much worse,” at this proximity you didn’t miss the way Crosshair tensed slightly at your words but he relaxed once more before you could even so much as sneak a look at him.

“Well, we’re just glad to have you back,” Hunter replied with a nod, “Tech’s bedside manner really leaves something to be desired.”

You laughed at that but any further response you might have had was interrupted by Wrecker and Tech returning with your drinks in hand.

“Drinks!” Wrecker exclaimed happily as he set his handful of glasses down on the table, the contents sloshing about before he clambered into the booth.

Drink in hand you relaxed back against the booth as the boys began regaling you with everything you had missed while you had been away. You smiled and laughed as you listened to them, your heart warming in your chest. Being there with them it suddenly felt as if no time had passed at all. A sense of home washed over you as you sat with them. You had truly missed them so much.

Time easily slipped away as you all fell into your usual pattern of reminiscing and people-watching. There was always something entertaining going on at 79s, but thankfully it seemed the batch was intent on avoiding shenanigans tonight. The combination of alcohol and mild pain meds you were still on for your ankle made you feel pleasantly bubbly inside, laughter and smiles slipping from you easier than usual as you enjoyed the time with your squad. Though the presence of Crosshair at your side, leaning over every once and a while to whisper in your ear as he pointed out whatever ridiculous thing he had spotted going on in the bar, his hands casually brushing against you each time, might have also had something to do with the slight giddiness you were feeling.

As the night wore on Hunter had been tempted away from the table by a beautiful Twi’lek and Tech and Wrecker had gone to grab the third round of drinks for the night leaving just you and Crosshair left in the booth.

Suddenly feeling bold, likely the result of the two drinks you had had, you looked up at Crosshair, leaning into him just ever so slightly. Your voice came out huskier than you had intended when you spoke, “Did you miss me, Cross?”

He tilted his head to look down at you, one eyebrow raised. The same something as before was swimming in his eyes again making your pulse race. He didn’t say anything though, only made a soft humming noise before picking up his drink and taking another sip.

You frowned, a sudden wave of embarrassment rushing through you at your brazen question. He probably thought you were an idiot for asking such a thing. The relaxed feeling you had been feeling before was completely gone, your body tensing as you berated yourself internally.

Thankfully, Tech and Wrecker returning to the table gave you something else to focus on. You grabbed the drink placed in front of you, downing nearly half of it in a single go in an attempt to chase away the feelings that had suddenly rushed up inside of you. You could feel Crosshair’s eyes on the side of your face, but you steadily ignored his gaze, focusing on the story Tech was currently telling instead.

Crosshair suddenly leaned towards you, his mouth a breath away from your ear, “What’s-” he started but was cut off by the sound of a new voice at their table.

“Hey there handsome,” All four heads at the table shot up to look towards the source of a voice. A beautiful young Pantoran woman had appeared at Crosshair’s side, her gaze focused entirely on him, “Can I buy you a drink?”

You were no stranger to witnessing this type of thing, the boys were handsome and they garnered a lot of attention everywhere they went. It wasn’t even the first time you had watched Crosshair pick up company for the evening but suddenly the thought of being present for this was unbearable.

“Excuse me,” You said shortly, moving before the words were even fully out of your mouth. You heard Crosshair hiss as you accidentally kneed him as you climbed over him to escape the booth. You looked at the woman who was suddenly looking at you with interest, “You can have my spot if you want.”

And with that you fled from the table, beelining towards the opposite side of the bar where the washrooms were. Thankfully one of the few single occupant washrooms was open and you rushed into it, leaning back against the door with a sigh as you locked the door. You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. You weren’t sure why you were so upset. Well no, that wasn’t entirely true. You were upset because it seemed that what you had thought was just a silly crush on Crosshair had become something much deeper than that and having to potentially watch him leave with someone else was literally cleaving your heart in two. You shook your head as your eyes stung, trying to get rid of the emotions bubbling inside you with the motion.

“Get it together,” You whispered to yourself as you pushed yourself away from the door. The washroom was tiny, nothing more than a small box with a toilet and sink but you were thankful for the privacy as you turned on the sink, splashing your face with cool water. You looked at yourself in the mirror for a moment trying your best to school your features into something more neutral before you left the confines of the washroom.

A sudden knock on the door startled you and you turned off the sink, “Just a minute!” You called as you grabbed a towel to dry off your hands.

You gave your head one more shake and took another deep breath before you pulled open the door only to be met with a completely unexpected sight.

“Crosshair what-?” You started but weren’t able to get anything else out before he crowded into you, pushing you back into the bathroom and closing the door quickly behind him. The sound of the door locking behind him echoed around the room.

“What are you doing?” Your voice came out as a squeak as you looked up at Crosshair with wide eyes.

“You’re upset.” He stated matter of factly, his gaze was dark as it racked over you. You had always felt that Crosshair had a way of just knowing what you were thinking and feeling and this time was no different. Sometimes it annoyed you how observant he was.

You shook your head, not willing to admit the truth, “No I’m not. I think I’ve just had too much to drink. Pain meds and alcohol don’t really mix…”

“Stop lying,” Crosshair hissed, pressing in even closer to you. You hadn’t even realized you had backed up until your back hit the sink counter behind you. He had you cornered, with nowhere else to go. You knew that Crosshair would never hurt you, if you told him to back off he would in an instant. But you realized with a flush it wasn’t fear that was suddenly pooling in your stomach, it was desire.

“I’m not…” You replied but it sounded weak even to your own ears.

Crosshair’s sharp eyes narrowed but he didn’t say anything. His eyes dipped down towards your lips momentarily before they met your gaze once more. That same look of something that had been pooling in his eyes all evening was back.

His voice ghosted across your skin, sending a shiver through your body as he spoke, “You don’t remember, do you?”

“Remember what?” You asked the heat pooling in you was growing by the moment. He was so close and you wanted nothing more than to pull him closer. The intensity of his gaze was almost unbearable.

“What you said to me that day, what I said to you,” His voice was barely above a rumble in his chest. Suddenly it clicked, he was talking about the day you had been injured.

“Cross, I don’t…” You started, shaking your head as your pulse raced beneath your skin. You had tried desperately to remember that day but the pain meds had made everything fuzzy.

“Hm,” He mused as he closed the final gap between you, the entire long length of him pressed up against your front. Your body felt as if was on fire at his proximity. He moved his hands to rest on the counter on either side of you, fully caging you in as his head dipped down towards your face. His voice was a purr as he spoke once more, “I can remind you if you want.”

You couldn’t do anything but nod, you didn’t know where this was going but you desperately wanted to find out.

“You told me that I was your favourite,” He whispered as his hand came up to cup your jaw. A smirk bloomed on his face that made your heart pound even faster, “You told me I was sexy."

You felt your face flush slightly in embarrassment and a laugh escaped you before you could stop it, “How cringe of me,” You said before you bit your lip shyly, looking up at him from beneath your lashes, “It is true though.”

Crosshair chuckled lowly as his hand slid down your neck, his thumb settled against your pulse point making you gasp softly at the touch. The two of you simply stared at one another for a long moment. You couldn’t quite believe that after months of longing, he was finally touching you. All of the nights you had spent imagining this very scenario didn’t even come close to the real thing.

Emboldened by his touch you tipped your head up, your noses nearly brushing together as you looked at him, “And what did you say to me?” You asked softly.

He moved impossibly closer, his knee parting your legs as his other hand moved to trace the curves of your body. Desire was throbbing through you with each touch.

“I said I would always stay with you,” He rumbled, “I meant it.”

You felt as though you were going to burst, every nerve ending lit up, oversensitive with every touch of his hand. You were completely lost beneath the weight of his words and his gaze. You had never felt a desire like this before.

His head tipped forward once more, his cheek grazing against your own, “Let me show you just how much I missed you, Sunshine,” He whispered, nipping lightly at your earlobe and sending shudders down your spine.

“Please, Cross,” You managed to squeak out. Your voice sounded desperate and needy but you found that you couldn’t care less as he pulled back slightly and his hand returned to your face once more. He ran his thumb over your bottom lip, his gaze was liquid fire as it traced the lines of your face.

He was kissing you then and everything else around you faded away into nothing. There was only him. There had always only been him.

You were unable to stifle the soft groan that escaped you as his lips captured your own. He gently nipped at your lower lip before his tongue soothed over the spot. He only stayed there for a moment before his tongue was pressing through, tangling with your own. It was needy and demanding and everything you had ever dreamed of.

You separated with a breathy moan, your eyes still closed, head tipped back as he moved his mouth down the line of your neck. Kissing, licking, and nipping a trail down to your collarbone. Fire was racing up your spine as he ravished your skin. It was all at once too much and not enough.

“Crosshair,” You murmured as your hand reached up to his head, your fingers scraping through his short silver hair. You didn’t miss the way he shuddered at your touch. It filled you with a sense of power, to know he was just as affected by your touch as you were by his.

He placed one final kiss on your neck, sucking on your skin in a way you knew would leave a mark before he was moving again. His hands slid to the back of your thighs, lifting you up onto the counter behind you with ease. You let out the tiniest squeak at the movement before he was settling in between your thighs. You could feel the way his codpiece was bulging against your core and you were desperate for more friction. You wrapped your legs around behind him, pulling him closer until there wasn’t any space left between you.

“This dress is dangerous, mesh'la,” He whispered as his hands once again trailed down your curves, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake, “Didn't you see how everyone was watching you? Most beautiful girl in the room.”

You moaned as he palmed your breast overtop of your dress, your breath coming out in ragged pants as you met his gaze, "I wore it just for you.”

He made a deep sound in his throat before he kissed you again, more urgent than before as your own hands bit into his shoulders. He didn’t stay there long though, your eyes widened as you watched him kneel on the ground in front of you. His touch was surprisingly gentle as he hooked his hands behind your knees, pulling you right to the edge of the counter.

“Crosshair,” You whispered again as his hands caressed your thighs, slowly making their way up and under the edge of your dress. He looked up at you, a smirk on his face, his dark eyes burning as his long, delicate fingers hooked around the edges of your panties. In one smooth motion, he had them off of you and in his hands. The look on his face was completely wicked as he stuffed them into one of the pouches on his utility belt.

“Cross,” You protested with a huff, that was one of your best pairs.

“What?” He asked before he bent his head to nip at the soft skin on the inside of your thigh, effectively rendering you speechless. His breath sent another shiver through you as he spoke again, “I want a souvenir.”

Any further reply you might have had was cut off as he reached up to hook one of your legs over his shoulder. The soft flesh of your thigh brushed against the sniper mount on his shoulder bell and you knew you were never going to be able to look at that thing the same way again. He kissed his way up the inside of your thigh, his mouth sending sparks up your spine. You were absolutely aching for him and you flushed slightly at the thought of him being able to see just how wet and ready you were for him.

You saw stars as his mouth pressed suddenly to your cunt, vision blackening around the edges as you were nearly overcome by the wave of sensation rushing through you. Tongue stroking your folds slowly, tortuously. You gasped, your white knuckle hold on the counter increasing as his tongue circled your clit, his hands biting into the flesh of your thighs as he pressed his face into you even further. You let out a soft cry, your head tipped back, eyes squeezed shut as his tongue breached your entrance. He groaned against you, his hold on you tightening even more, the sensation of it sending waves of pleasure through you. You were hurtling towards a release, all of the tension coiling in your belly as your chest heaved.

You hadn’t even noticed that one of his hands had moved, so caught up as you were in the feelings of his mouth on you, that you let out a soft yelp as two of his fingers pressed suddenly against your core. He moved his mouth back to your clit, tongue circling it as he pushed his fingers inside of you. You let out a string of curses, your walls clenching around his fingers as they crooked and found that spot inside of you that had you turning into a whimpering mess as he massaged it. You were so achingly close, months of longing suddenly coming to a boiling point as your body completely melted beneath his touch.

“Cross..” You whimpered as his tongue pressed hard against your clit, his fingers finding a smooth rhythm.

He pulled away just slightly, his thumb replacing his tongue on your clit as he continued to fuck you with his fingers.

You felt his voice against your skin more than you actually heard it, “Be a good girl. Cum for me.”

That’s all it took for the band inside of you to finally snap. You came with a shout, thighs squeezing around his head as you rode out the waves of your pleasure. It was better than anything you could have ever imagined. Your orgasm burned through you and every coherent thought left you as you drowned in the sensations coursing through your body.

You didn't even have a moment to catch your breath before he was moving again, the sound of armour clattering to the floor filled the room. You managed to focus your gaze on him once more, still flushed and overheated but your desire raged through you once more at the sight of him. He had removed his codpiece and you could see the outline of him straining against his blacks. You reached out for him, pulling him towards you again in a single motion with one hand while the other found the waistband of his blacks. He was hot and heavy against your hand as you finally freed him, his erection flushing prettily against his stomach as you stroked him once, twice. He let out a low growl in his throat, his entire body was taut, as though he was about to explode at any moment. Even as wound up as he was he still moved with the same lethal grace he always did, a snake waiting to strike. Before you could even comprehend it he had closed the distance between you. Your legs moved to wrap around him instinctually and you let out a soft cry at the feeling of the head of his cock pushing against your entrance.

“Stars, Cross,” You groaned as your hands clutched at his shoulders, your legs pinning his hips to you as he rubbed his erection through your soaking folds, “I want you so badly.”

He didn't require any further encouragement, the look on his face was completely ravenous as he entered you with a smooth thrust, stretching you and filling you so completely in a way you never had been before. You were completely unmoored, a whimpering mess in his arms as he gave you a moment to adjust to his size. Your gaze was hazy with desire as you met his own. He was all angles and sharp lines, brow furrowed in concentration but there was something soft lurking in his dark eyes that did more to you than anything else that night had. He kissed you then, swallowing your moan as he began to slowly thrust in and out of you.

You thought for a moment that you must have died, that it was all just a dream as his mouth moved down to your neck once more sucking on your skin as his hips picked up the pace. You could feel the bite of his armour against your skin with each thrust but if anything it only made you burn more. The pleasure was building inside you rapidly once more as he pulled himself almost all the way out before thrusting back into you roughly, the tip of his cock hitting you in that perfect place each time.

“Oh gods, Crosshair,” You panted as his pace increased, his hips rubbing against your clit deliciously with each thrust. His hand came up to tangle in your hair, pulling your head back just slightly to give him better access to your throat as he sucked against your skin. You knew you were going to be covered in marks later but you couldn't find it in yourself to care as the heat in your body continued to build.

Suddenly he let go of you completely, pulling all the way out of you. You whimpered at the loss but before you could even comprehend what was happening he reached out and pulled you down from the counter, spinning you around to face the sink, his back pressed up against you. One hand was on your hip, holding you close, while the other slunk up between your breasts to rest at the base of your throat. In one smooth motion, he thrust back into you causing you to cry out at the feeling of being filled once more.

It was almost too much, at this angle, he was filling you so completely, hitting that spot deep inside you with each thrust. Your head tipped forward as you were overcome with the feeling of him, just trying to focus on meeting his thrusts as you rapidly approached another high. The hand that was on your hip was suddenly moving, pulling the hem of your dress up even higher.

“Look at me,” He hissed in your ear and you were unable to ignore his order. Your gaze met his in the mirror over the sink and if you had thought it was too much before it was nothing compared to this. The sight of the two of you flushed, joined together as you both chased your highs. It was beautiful and almost enough to have you tipping over the edge once more as he continued to pound mercilessly into you.

“Look how good you take my cock,” Crosshair grunted, his eyes trailing down in the mirror. You followed his gaze to where you could see where the two of you were joined, could see the way he was thrusting in and out of you, filling you so completely, “Such a pretty little thing. Like you were made just for me.”

“Cross-“ You groaned, you were so close it was agony.

“You’re going to watch yourself cum on my cock,” He whispered, nipping at where your neck and shoulder met as his hand moved to your clit. You moaned, your eyes once again following his directions, unable to disobey a direct order. You couldn't look away from where he was pistoning in and out of you. It was lewd and so sexy that you feel like you might combust from the sight alone.

“Who else can make you feel like this? Make you feel as good as I can?” He hissed, mouth against your ear as he maintained his brutal pace.

“No one Cross,” You cried. Your eyes were burning, overwhelmed by the emotions and sensations rushing through you, "Only you.”

“That’s right. You’re mine,” He hummed, breath ghosting against the shell of your ear before he nipped your neck once more, “Only mine.”

His thumb circled your clit once, twice and that’s all it took for you to shatter completely for a second time. Crying out his name as you came on his cock. Your head tipped back against him, eyes finally shutting as you got swept away by the ecstasy of your release. You felt weightless, the sensation of your high overwhelming you completely as you sagged against him. His strong hands kept you upright, biting into your flesh enough for you to know for certain that there would be marks left in their place tomorrow.

He groaned as you squeezed around him, walls clenching and pulling him deeper into you with each wave of pleasure. His thrusts became erratic before he came with a grunt, holding himself as deep as he could as he spilled himself inside of you.

You were both motionless for a long moment, breathing ragged as you came down from your highs. You had literally never felt like this before in your life. You couldn't help but smile softly at the idea that he had ruined you forever, in the best way possible.

Once your breathing had finally evened out somewhat his hands wrapped around your waist and he pulled you close again, pressing gentle kisses along your neck and shoulders, his tongue soothing your flushed skin. He pressed a final kiss to your cheek before he pulled away, slipping out of you.

You turned, bracing yourself against the counter, flushing slightly at the feeling of his release running down the inside of your thighs. You moaned softly, tipping your head back to shake your sweaty hair out of your eyes. Your legs felt like jelly and you had no idea how you were going to make it out of the bathroom without wobbling.

You lifted a hand to run through your hair, trying to tame it into something that looked less like you’d just been ravaged, as you turned your attention back to the man in front of you. You watched as he quickly wiped himself off before tucking himself back into his blacks. His gaze met yours and the smirk on his face had fire licking in your belly once more. You chuckled softly, shaking your head as he stooped to grab his discarded codpiece, snapping it back into place with a practiced motion.

You were distracted by the thought of just how truly kriffed you were, both literally and figuratively, and missed him moving about the room. Suddenly he was kneeling before you, cloth in hand as he diligently cleaned between your thighs. His touch was achingly gentle and when he looked up at you from his position on the floor there was something completely new swimming in the depths of his eyes. A look so soft that it had your heart pounding in your chest for a completely different reason. Kriffed.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of him as he stood, disposing of the towel before he tugged your dress back into place, delicate hands smoothing out the wrinkles as best as possible. His touch left goosebumps on your skin and you couldn't stop the shudder that ran through you.

His eyes were still soft as he raised a brow at you, “You good?” He asked as his hand slid around to the small of your back, pulling you into him once more.

“Mhmm” You nodded, “Great. Better than great actually.”

He smirked, amusement lighting up his eyes as he ducked his head to capture your lips with his own once more. Thankfully, he pulled away before you could get yourself too worked up again. You grumbled softly at the loss of contact but he didn’t go far, arms still caging you in as he looked down at you.

“I think it’s about time we get you home,” He purred, his eyes molten, “Considering it is past your bedtime after all.”

You laughed, pinching him in a gap between his armour teasingly before you sobered and looked up at him, “Alright, but I might need some help taking this dress off.”

His grin was almost feral before he leaned down to kiss you once more. His voice sent shivers down your spine as he pulled away, “I think I can manage that.”

He didn't give you another moment to respond before he laced his fingers in your own and started to pull you towards the door but you planted your feet, forcing him to turn back around to look at you.

His eyebrow was raised expectantly, eyes narrowed slightly as you spoke. Your heart was racing and you felt yourself flushing but you couldn’t let the moment pass without saying something.

“Crosshair, I really care about you. Like a lot,” it came out more awkward than you intended and you felt yourself flush further, “Just wanted to tell you when I’m not all doped up. Wanted to make sure you knew that you really are my favourite...”

He smirked but his eyes were swimming with emotion, his voice was rougher than you’d ever heard it before, “Good. Because you’re stuck with me now.”

You laughed, brimming with happiness at his words. You were beginning to think you still might end up as that lovestruck pile of goo on the floor before the night was over, “I think I can live with that.”

He chuckled softly before he pulled you out the door, back into the loud chaos of 79’s. Neither of you bothered saying goodnight to the rest of the boys on your way out. A part of you had a feeling they knew where you'd gone off to anyway. Crosshair tossed a smirk back at you over his shoulder as he pulled you through the crowd, the look in his eyes though was so soft and warm that it had your heart pounding in your chest. You’d been privy to this part of him a few times before but nothing quite like this and you were suddenly smiling at the thrill that ran up your spine at the thought. This was only just the beginning. You couldn’t help but think, as the cool night air brushed against your skin as you exited the bar, that it had been a perfect reunion indeed.

[gigabyte-flare]

He Comes Alive (Part 6)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Summary: Your mother informs you that your father is missing and a search party is formed. You start to notice Leon's acting strange, too. In the weeks that follow, you start getting sick; it must just be stress, right?

Word Count: 5k

Pairing: vampire/plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: Biting, blood, gore, murder, unprotected p in v, masterbation, oral (m and f receiving), stalking, pet names, kidnapping, breeding kink, blood play/kink, age gap, dubcon, pregnancy, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT [More warnings may be added in future entries]

A quick reminder that I no longer do tag lists

Leon walks through the front door, glancing over at the kitchen clock as he walks through; it’s just past three in the morning. He takes a moment to toss the shirt clutched in his left hand into the washing machine. He then makes his way up the stairs, into the master bedroom and stopping in the threshold of the master bathroom, checking to make sure his angel is still asleep. He smirks upon seeing she is out like a light still; the sleeping drug he laced her drink with last night is working wonders. She was asleep by 8 last night.

Satisfied that she’s asleep, he walks into the bathroom, softly closing the door and turning on the light, revealing that from his head to just above his hips, with the exception of one spot on his pants where he had wiped his dominant hand off, he is covered in blood. He stares at himself in the mirror, his crimson eyes dilating at the sight of her father’s blood all over him.

Leon was surprised Mick had put up quite the fight, despite being unarmed; having chased him for a couple hours before finally wearing him down; he certainly had made it fun for Leon. When he had finally gotten him cornered, Leon made sure his death was slow and agonizing, after getting his fill of blood, of course. Fish and Game is going to have a really hard time finding what’s left of Mick.

Leon turns around, turning the shower on and letting it warm up, taking a moment to take off the rest of his clothing before stepping into the shower to clean himself up. After getting all the blood off and ensuring the shower is clean, he steps out, putting on a pair of sweatpants and retracing his steps to ensure he didn’t drip or get blood on anything. Once he’s satisfied that he left no trace of blood behind, he returns to the master bedroom, to his sleeping angel.

Upon entering the bedroom, he stands at the foot of the bed for a moment, admiring her sleeping form. He leans down, gently pulling the comforter off her. She’s lying on her back, wearing a thin white tank top and light pink underwear with lace on the hem, having a small pink bow in the middle. Leon can’t help but think how perfect that is. Beneath that little bow, he can sense that his seed is growing inside her; the larvae having successfully attached itself to the embryo.

Overcome with emotion, Leon gingerly climbs onto her, placing his lips onto her lower stomach and giving tender kisses as his hands rub up and down the sides of her thighs and hips. She stirs in her sleep, letting out a soft groan as she begins to awaken.

“Leon…? Your hair’s wet, did you take a shower?”

Leon lifts his head, giving her a gentle smile, “I did, I couldn’t sleep. Good morning, angel.”

He crawls over her before kissing her deeply, his fingers running through her hair as he slips his tongue into her mouth. She reciprocates without any hesitation, her arms draping around his shoulders to pull him closer. He brings his hand between their bodies, his fingers sliding across the soft fabric of her underwear, finding her clit and rubbing gentle circles into it, eliciting a soft moan from her as they continue to kiss. 

The sound of the phone ringing downstairs instantly ruins the moment, Leon letting out a frustrated sigh as he glances over at the clock on the bedside table. It reads 5:42am. 

“Let me get that, must be important if someone’s calling at this hour,” Leon says as he crawls off his angel. 

He makes his way downstairs and into the kitchen, picking up the phone off the receiver, “hello?”

“Leon, it’s Sandi. I’m so sorry for calling this early. Is my daughter around?”

“It’s no trouble at all, no need to apologize,” he says before holding the phone away from his mouth to call out, “angel! It’s your mom!”

“I’m coming!” he hears her reply.

He listens intently at the soft sounds of her bare feet coming down the stairs. She comes into the kitchen, taking the phone from Leon.

“Hey Mom, what’s going on?” she asks.

Leon doesn’t need to hear what Sandi is saying to her, he knows exactly what she’s calling about. He watches as her face slowly transforms, filled with worry.

“No, neither of us have heard from Dad, why?”

Another pause, the worry on her face is then consumed by complete distress.

“What do you mean Dad’s missing?! Have you reported this to the police yet?”

It takes everything in Leon to not smile as an overwhelming sense of dominance and pride fills him, his eyes locked on his angel as she continues to talk on the phone.

“Alright, please keep us posted. If you need us, we’ll be there in a heartbeat. Take care Mom.”

She puts the phone on the receiver, letting out a heavy sigh.

“What was that all about, everything ok?” Leon asks, feigning concern. 

She looks at him, “Mom woke up this morning and Dad wasn’t in bed. She thought maybe he had just fallen asleep in the recliner but when she went down to check, the TV was on but he was nowhere to be found.”

“Where the hell could he have gone?” Leon asks, shaking his head.

“That’s the weird part, I have no idea, unless…” he watches as she consumes herself in thought for a moment before continuing, “oh god… you don’t think he tried to go after the B.O.W. himself, do you?”

To be honest, Leon is impressed that she came to that conclusion, but knowing how much her father wanted to get Leon out of the picture, it shouldn’t have been a surprise. Still, her intellect just confirms to him that he picked the perfect mate, the perfect mother to his offspring. 

Leon furrows his brows, rubbing them with his fingers before replying, “shit…”

She grabs the phone again, dialing her parents’ house.

“Mom it’s me, have you called the police to report Dad missing yet? I… I think I know where he went…”

You, your mother and Leon sit at your parents’ dining room in complete silence. Upon your arrival there, Chief Bob and several members of New Hampshire Fish and Game were there with your mother; you had let them know to search the woods behind the fairgrounds, suspecting that your father had gone out to take care of the B.O.W. himself. Or rather, as you told the officers, ‘the animal.’

What impresses you is how calm Leon is. There’s almost a strange aura of serenity surrounding him and it’s clearly having an effect on both you and your mother. 

“Of course Mick would do something so stupid,” your mother says, breaking the silence as she stands up from the table, going over to the kitchen sink to do up the dishes from the impromptu breakfast she had made the three of you. 

Leon then abruptly gets up, following your mother over to the sink, “Sandi, let me do these for you. You have enough to worry about right now.”

You watch as Leon gently moves your mother away from the sink, gesturing her to sit back down at the table, clearly not taking no for an answer. Your mother simply nods, sitting back down next to you as Leon begins washing the dishes.

“What was Mick hoping to accomplish, going out on his own like that?” Sandi asks as she sits back down next to you at the table, “he’s heard about what this animal has done to people!”

“I have no idea…” you lie.

But you do have an idea. Knowing your father, he wanted Leon out of the picture in any possible way he could get him out. No B.O.W.? No Leon. Mick’s dilemma was solved in his mind. A sudden knock at the door rips you from your thoughts and you watch as your mother immediately gets up to answer the door. You get up and follow her.

On the other side is Chief Bob and judging by the look on his face, he isn’t the bearer of good news; he clears his throat before he speaks, “we found… evidence of a struggle and this.”

Chief Bob lifts his clenched hand, opening it to reveal a ring caked in blood. You could recognize that plain titanium wedding band anywhere; it is your father’s.

“Sandi I’m so sorry… it’s likely that your husband is dead.”

The wailing sound your mother then begins to make is almost inhuman. She takes the ring from Chief Bob’s palm, clutching it in her own hands and falling to her knees. You feel tears form in your own eyes as well. Yeah, your father was a pain in the ass, yeah he was hard on you, but it was never from a place of malice. He always wanted what was best for you, being his only child.

You get on your knees, wrapping your arms around your mother in an attempt to comfort her. It’s then that the reality of your father being gone sinks in and you join your mother in sobbing. You look up to Leon, who’s still standing at the kitchen sink. You open your mouth to speak but you cut yourself short when you see Leon was looking at you, adverting his gaze away and back to the dishes. That in itself was strange, however what you had seen on his face unsettles you.

He had been smiling. 

In the weeks that follow after your father’s death, you do everything in your power to distract yourself; not only of the fact that your father is gone but of Leon’s strange behavior that day. You try to brush it off as maybe his nerves getting the better of him, after all, everyone deals with grief and traumatic events differently. But the more you try not to think about it, the more you realize that each time another body had turned up, Leon was always weirdly calm.

Was your father right about him? Is he somehow involved?

“Don’t be stupid,” you say to yourself quietly as you climb out of bed to go into the bathroom, “he’s a government agent, he’s probably trained to be calm…”

You can hear Leon working in the living room downstairs as you go into the bathroom. A sudden wave of nausea had come over you, as it had the past few mornings. You close the bathroom door and barely make it to the sink when you retch up the contents of your stomach; granted it hadn’t been much. Your arms tremble as you prop yourself over the bathroom sink; at this point you’re dry heaving, your stomach in literal knots. After a few minutes, the nausea passes. You try to wrap your head around what has been making you sick the last few mornings, not recalling eating something that would make you this violently ill. One thought suddenly hits you like a ton of bricks: pregnancy.

It’s been a few weeks since that night when you came home from the Harvest Festival; when Leon had fucked you in this very spot and came in you. Your blood runs cold at the realization. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you go back into the bedroom and get dressed. You decide to go to the store, buy some pregnancy tests just to be sure. It could be something totally unrelated; how often do people get pregnant after having unprotected sex just once, right? You recall your parent’s had struggled to have you. 

Once dressed, you head downstairs, smiling at Leon as you walk past him working, “Leon I’m going to head to the store real quick, I’ll be back.”

Leon stops what he’s working on, turning to you, “Oh? I’ll go with you,” he says as he puts down his tools.

You feel the color leave your face as you internally panic, “No Leon it’s fine! I don’t want to distract you from your work. I won’t be gone long, I promise.”

Leon’s eyes are locked on you as you figure he’s contemplating letting you go alone or not. You internally let out a sigh of relief when he picks his tools back up to continue working.

“Alright, but come right back, ok?” he says, focusing his attention back to what he was working on.

“I will,” you say, not wasting time walking into the kitchen to grab your purse and your jacket. 

You go outside, the chill November air going straight to your bones despite having a jacket on. You climb into your car, turning the ignition. As soon as the car revs to life, you drive off.

You decide to go to the grocery store in Plymouth, not wanting to risk bumping into anyone you knew while buying pregnancy tests. Plus, it felt good to go for a ride alone; a chance to go through your thoughts and feelings. 

Why hadn’t you made him pull out that night? Why had you been so completely lost in the moment? The words he growled into your ear that night were very much etched in your mind. Even so, would he even want a baby with you? Do you even want a baby?

You shake your head, doing your best to convince yourself you’re not pregnant and the sickness was just from all the stress; that the pregnancy tests were just a precaution, something to ease your mind. You pull your car into the grocery store, heading in and picking up some snacks so that you weren’t just buying the tests. 

You go into the feminine hygiene aisle, locating the pregnancy tests. There were several brands, so you decide to pick a couple different ones, putting them into your cart and going to the check out to purchase everything. You feel like everyone’s eyes are on you as you go up to the cash register, even the cashier seems to give you a weird look as they ring up the pregnancy tests. You do your best not to make eye contact as you pay for your things and leave.

You drive back to Leon’s house, making sure the tests were buried beneath the snacks in the grocery bags as you walk inside.

“Leon I’m back!” you call out as you walk into the living room to go up the stairs.

You watch as Leon again stops what he’s doing, smiling over at you as you ascend the stairs, “welcome back, angel. Did you buy anything good?”

You swallow hard, stopping mid-way up the stairs and turn to him, “I got us some snacks, want some?”

“Sure!” Leon replies with a smile.

You pull out a bag of Doritos, tossing them gently to him, watching as he catches the bag with ease, “there you are, don’t eat the whole thing.”

Leon chuckles and gives you a playful wink before returning his focus to his work. You let out a sigh of relief, going back up the stairs to go into the bathroom. Upon entering, you quickly close the bathroom door and lock it, setting the grocery bag onto the bathroom counter, fishing the pregnancy tests out. 

The actual tests proved to be more complicated than you ever imagined, requiring you to somehow get it so that you pee on them; easier said than done. After a few minutes of struggling, you manage to use all the tests you got, setting them face down onto the bathroom counter to process. You clean yourself up and sit on the toilet seat to anxiously wait.

After what seems like an eternity, you reluctantly stand up and walk over to the bathroom counter, you flip each test over, one by one. Each of them has the same result: Positive.

In that moment, every single swear word runs through your mind. Your eyes widen and your heart races. What if Leon gets mad? Are you even ready to raise a child? What will your mother think? What will the town think? Getting pregnant out of wedlock isn’t as uncommon as it used to be, but Oakvale is still a fairly religious community; you fear the worst.

You gather up the tests in your hand, opening the bathroom door to go back downstairs. When you reach the bottom, you simply stop and watch Leon work, your hand holding the tests trembling as you try to think of what to say to him. 

As if sensing your presence, Leon once again stops, turning to you and seeing your pained expression, “angel, what’s wrong?”

“I…” you begin, a sob catching your voice as fear completely envelopes you, “I think I’m pregnant…”

You watch Leon’s mouth hang open for a second before a smile consumes it, “really?!”

Much to your surprise, Leon drops everything, walking over to you and wrapping his arms around you, his face burying itself in your hair and placing soft kisses onto the top of your head. He steps back, seeing the tests clutched in your hand. He takes them from you, looking at each, seeing how all of them say positive for pregnancy. 

“You’re… not mad?” you ask, your voice still trembling.

“Why on Earth would I be mad?”

You shake your head, relief flooding over you now that you know Leon seems to be thrilled with the news.

“We can turn the spare bedroom into a nursery! Wait until we tell your Mom, she’s going to be so happy to have some good news for a change!”

“Th…Thanksgiving is in a few days, we should tell her then!” you say, your worry being replaced by enthusiasm.

You feel so much better now knowing that Leon’s not angry and clearly wants a family with you. The morning of Thanksgiving arrives and you and Leon are working on a green bean casserole to bring over to your mother’s house. Once that’s made up, you and Leon get it packed up in his Jeep and waste no time driving to your parents’ house.

Once there, your mother greets you enthusiastically, you can hear some of your extended family members already inside. You place the warm casserole by the other dishes before taking a seat at the dining table. Leon wastes no time getting to know your family, seated at the table is your uncle Dennis, who’s married to your Mom’s sister Donna, who’s helping your Mom with the turkey in the kitchen and your other aunt and uncle on your Dad’s side: Joel and his wife Marlene with their two young kids Adam and Mary-Ann, who are seated at a ‘kids table’ off to the side of the dining room. 

Leon didn’t tell your family much about himself, giving them the same retired government agent story he had told you and your parents when you first met him. You remain quiet, becoming a bundle of nerves as the day wears on, scared of how your family is going to react to your pregnancy. Your Mom and your aunt coming in with the turkey snaps you out of your nervous thoughts and you take the opportunity to stand up and help them bring all the other food into the dining room.

You watch as Marlene helps her two children get their food, which isn't much because they are ridiculously picky. You on the other hand take a little bit of almost everything, especially the green bean casserole since that’s your favorite. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Leon doesn’t take that much either; mostly the dark meat of the turkey, potatoes and some stuffing. 

Once everyone has their food, everyone at the ‘adults’ table engages in mindless small talk, meanwhile your focus is on eating and making sure you don’t throw up from your nerves. After a while, you hear Leon clear his throat to get everyone’s attention, putting a huge pit into your stomach.

“So… we have something really exciting to tell everyone,” Leon begins, placing his hand on the small of your back, rubbing it in small circles; he looks over to you, giving you a soft smile, “do you want to tell them the good news?”

You take a deep breath before giving him a slight nod; when you speak, your voice is just above a whisper, “I’m… um… we’re…”

At this point, everyone is staring at you. You feel yourself freeze up, your mind racing and your heart pounding.

“It’s alright, I’m right here,” you hear Leon encourage as he leans in to whisper in your ear.

“Sorry…” you say, swallowing hard, “we’re expecting…”

You watch your aunt Donna blink a few times before widening her eyes, “I’m sorry… you’re what?”

“I’m… I’m pregnant.” you finally say, cutting to the chase. 

Your uncle Dennis practically spits out the beer he had been sipping on and your uncle Joel nearly chokes on the food he was eating. Your mother simply stares at you, seemingly dumbfounded. You immediately feel embarrassed.

“Was this… intentional?” your aunt Marlene asks, the concern evident in her voice.

“Well, no--”

“Yes. We love each other so much, so we’re very eager to start a family together, isn’t that right angel?” Leon says, cutting you off as he looks over to you, smiling and rubbing your back.

You look at him for a second, raising an eyebrow. The realization that his every intention that night after coming home from the festival was to get you pregnant sends chills through your entire body. You didn’t know how to feel about that at all. 

Not wanting to cause a scene, you nod, addressing your family, “yes, it just felt right to start a family together. With all the sadness lately, we thought bringing a new life into the world would raise our family’s spirits.”

Your Mom then smiles, a single tear running down her cheek, “honey that’s wonderful news. When are you due?”

“We figured out it's around the end of July, give or take," Leon replies, a proud smirk spreading across his lips.

The mood in the room immediately shifts, your family now seemingly excited for you and Leon. Everyone is throwing out name suggestions, making bets on whether it’ll be a boy or a girl. All the while, you can’t seem to shake the uneasiness growing inside you. You unconsciously place a hand on your lower stomach. After a moment, you flinch your hand away, surprise overwhelming you.

You felt it move, that’s not possible, right?

The weeks that follow feel like a blur. When Christmas comes around, you and Leon are overwhelmed with gifts for the baby: clothes, toys and even furniture for the nursery. With each day, your pregnancy is beginning to show more and more, so much so that you had to go out and buy new clothes. Sleeping is also becoming a challenge, as you can’t seem to find a comfortable position with your swollen belly.

It’s New Year’s Eve and you are awoken to Leon touching, kissing and talking to your belly. It’s his daily ritual now. Your eyes slowly flutter open and you smile when you see Leon kissing and rubbing your belly. You would even say that Leon is more excited about this baby than you are, not that you’re not, of course. The baby always seems to react to him, becoming especially mobile in your belly when he talks to it, but you knew that had to be a coincidence. He notices you awake, propping himself on top of you and crawling up to you, kissing you deeply.

“How’s my favorite Momma doing?” he asks before kissing along your jawline.

“Very tired,” you admit, shifting yourself so that you’re sitting up in bed, “this big belly makes it hard to get comfortable.”

Leon sits down on the bed next to you, his concern written on his face as he caresses your belly with the back of his fingers, “I know. I can’t imagine how difficult it must be for you. Our little one is growing like a weed.”

“I wasn’t expecting my belly to get this big so soon, everyone in town thinks we’re having twins,” you reply with a laugh as you rub your belly.

Leon lets out a chuckle, “we’re definitely not. Just one very healthy baby.”

Leon’s hand moves from your belly, across your thigh and settling between your legs, his fingers caressing your clit through your underwear. A soft gasp escapes you, your legs unconsciously spreading open as you lean your head back against the headboard of the bed.

“That’s it, angel, make yourself comfortable. I’ll take care of you,” Leon coos as his fingers push your underwear aside, his middle and ring fingers slipping into your leaking hole with ease as his thumb continues to rub your throbbing clit. 

His fingers caress your g-spot just right every time, causing you to arch your back and let out soft moans as you close your eyes, enjoying the moment. You feel his hand gently grasp one of your breasts, wincing a moment as they had become extremely sensitive since you had fallen pregnant. With each thrust of his fingers you are brought closer to your release, your fingers gripping onto the sheets in the bed as your legs begin to tremble.

Then, Leon pushes his fingers as deep inside you as he possibly can, causing you to cry out as you come all over his fingers. Leon rests his head on your shoulder as he gently massages your breast, pulling his fingers out but still rubbing gentle circles into your clit. 

“Such a good Momma you are,” he praises, kissing the crook of your neck as he starts to pull down his sweatpants.

A loud banging on the front door interrupts him; he lets out an audible growl in annoyance. He waits a moment, hoping the person would go away, but the banging resumes, making the whole house shake.

“Better see who that is,” Leon says, his tone flat as he climbs out of the bed. 

As Leon makes his way downstairs, you decide to get up and throw some clothes on yourself, grabbing a pair of maternity jeans and one of Leon’s t-shirts to put on. 

“What the fuck?!” you hear Leon shout, followed by what sounds like a struggle.

“Leon!” you call out, rushing yourself down the stairs to the front door.

What greets you outside is like something out of a movie. Several armored trucks are in the driveway, men with guns and full tactical gear surround the house. One of the men has Leon pinned onto the ground, seemingly injecting some kind of liquid into his neck.

“What are you doing to him?!” you cry out, bursting out the front door to come to Leon’s aid, “stop it!”

As soon as you’re outside, two men grab each of your arms, holding you back. Looking around, you also see that there are large light panels on the armored trucks, emitting a strange, purple light, piercing the darkness of the early morning.

“Ma’am you need to come with us, it’s not safe here,” one of the men commands.

“What on Earth are you talking about?! Let me go!” you protest, desperately trying to pull yourself away from the men's grasp.

“We’re gonna have to tranq her,” you hear the other man say.

“Let me go! I’m fucking pregnan--!”

You feel something pierce your neck and in that next moment, the whole world is spinning, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you lose consciousness.

You awake to the most massive headache you have ever experienced in your life, your eyes open and promptly closing when you find you’re laying in a bed in a completely white room with bright, blinding lights. You slowly sit up, rubbing your neck where you had gotten injected with the tranquilizer; it’s very sore and tender there. You look around at your surroundings. The walls are covered in a white padding, much like you’d find at a mental hospital with what you assume is a locked door on the other side. After a few minutes, a man with a white lab coat comes into the room, stating your name with a questioning inflection in his voice.

“Yeah…” you reply, your voice still groggy from having been drugged, “that’s me.”

“Come with me, the director would like to see you.”

The man helps you stand up, holding you gently by the arm as he leads you out of the room. Going down a hallway, he then turns and brings you into another room, this one has the same white walls, but this time there is a table with two chairs on either side. The man sits you down in the chair farthest from the door.

“The director will be with you shortly,” the man says before leaving the room, the door audibly locking upon his exit.

You wrap your arms around yourself, pinching your arm to make sure you’re not dreaming. Your thoughts are immediately on Leon, wondering where he is and hoping that he’s ok. You then focus your attention on your belly, rubbing it softly, hoping the tranquilizer didn’t hurt your baby. The sound of the door unlocking breaks you out of your thoughts and you look up to the door and watch a different man wearing a dark green jacket with salt and pepper dark hair walk in. He reminds you of the character Columbo, the bumbling detective from a murder mystery show that your mother enjoyed watching when you were growing up.

The man walks up to the opposite chair, pulling it out before taking a seat, “my name is Clive R. O’Brian and I imagine you have a lot of questions for me.”

Part 7

[juniper-sunny]

The Art in the Heart* - Chapter 9

It's Silco's turn to meet people from your past. His visit to your first home is disturbed by long-buried memories resurfacing—along with a confession of dark secrets...

Happy Ending AU | Silco x Reader | Young!Silco | F!Reader | No [Y/N] | Slow Burn | Romance | Eventual Smut | Fluff | Angst | Hurt/Comfort | Fix-It || SFW | WC: 4.8k

beta reader: the magnificent @silcoitus !!

ao3 || Masterlist || Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8

───────────────── ●◉◎◈◎◉● ─────────────────

Just as Silco is about to make a wrong turn towards the elevators, you gently take him by the elbow. You’re tempted to keep holding on, but you quickly drop your hand when he looks at you quizzically.

“Are we not heading for the underground?” he asks.

You shake your head. “Janna’s Embrace moved to Lower Piltover a few years ago, for the fresh air and sunshine. And vendors will actually deliver to us now without charging huge hazard fees. We’re saving a lot of money that way.” 

You don’t go into detail about how Lower Piltover is a much safer place to raise children. All Zaunites are “gutter rats” in the eyes of Enforcers, but at least the orphans raised at the Embrace’s new location don’t have to live like Sumpsnipes anymore, scraping the ground for crumbs and living in filth and puddles. 

Just as you finish speaking, your destination comes into view. You can’t help but feel a swell of pride as you cross a cobblestone courtyard towards a wide, three-story brick building with arched windows and a sloped roof. The exterior is slightly weathered from age, but the leafy bushes out front are neatly trimmed. Cheerful chalk sketches cover both the ground and the walls of the building itself, mostly of smiling stick figure children holding hands. One particularly colorful drawing depicts a child riding a giant Poro over a rainbow. 

The bronze plaque above the front door bearing the orphanage’s name is highly polished, engraved with a portrait of the goddess herself. Her long hair billows in an arc behind her, a kind and calm smile on her face as she cradles her arms lovingly to her bosom.

An old, tall, muscular canine Vastayan with short dark fur and pointy ears is watering the bushes. When she senses your arrival, her ear twitches underneath a straw gardening hat, ratty and holey with old age. She turns to you as you reach the doorstep.

“Hi, Kharon,” you call out to her with a smile.

She doesn’t say anything, but blinks slowly at you. When she sees Silco, she tilts her head inquisitively at him.

“Kharon, this is Silco. Silco, this is Kharon,” you introduce your friends to each other.

“Hello,” Silco says politely. He extends his free hand out.

Kharon doesn’t take his hand, but instead puts down the watering can and wipes her clawed paws on her patchwork overalls. She lowers her gray and grizzled snout to his forehead. He stands perfectly still as she sniffs him, her huffing exhales ruffling his hair. Then, she steps back to scan him from top to bottom. 

Silco straightens under her scrutiny, determined to make a good impression. You almost giggle when Kharon finally lets out a low growl of approval. She steps away to pull open the front doors wide open enough for the two of you to enter with the wagon.

“Thanks,” you tell the Vastayan as you pass her. “Are Teema and Cuny around?”

“Kitchen,” she says in a low grunt.

You wave goodbye to her as Silco crosses the threshold first. He pulls the wagon carefully into a wide hallway, observing the interior carefully. The doors click shut, and the noise echoes quietly, reverberating against the high ceiling. The dark wooden floor is spotless but worn from countless footsteps treading over it. Framed photographs of happy families and grinning kids adorn the walls, some candid and others posed.

Silco leans in to study one particular portrait that catches his eye. A young girl with missing teeth and a choppy bob is laughing at the camera, caught in a group hug with a boy and another girl her age. Her peers are just as joyful, the boy’s eyes squeezed shut as he wheezes with silent laughter. The second girl grins while looking at her friends.

“Is that you?” Silco asks, pointing at the first girl, whose hair and eye color matches yours. His grip on the wagon’s handle loosens, forgotten in his fascination with the photo. An amused smile creeps onto his face, almost as wide as the child’s.

“Yeah,” you say shortly. The bittersweet twinge of nostalgia in your heart is overcome by a dark disdain. 

You have some fond memories of growing up alongside these friends and others not pictured, but they’re all gone now.

And you still wonder if that was all your fault.

Before Silco can ask you more about the picture, you take the handle from him and cross the hallway. You walk briskly through an arched entryway into a crowded cafeteria. The wagon’s weight slows you down enough that Silco can still keep up with you. You make a note to give Silco a proper tour later, but you’ve wasted too much time already.

And you want to outrun the painful memories stirred up by that photograph.

You turn left towards the far wall and pass a serving station, Silco following close behind. As you round the corner and enter the kitchen, you call out a warning. It’s already bustling, filled with kitchen staff who say hello back to you in passing. You gesture for Silco to stay close to the wall as someone walks past him carrying a bin overflowing with dirty dishes. Boots squeak on the thick, non-slip mats covering every inch of the ground. The stainless steel appliances gleam brightly as if they had been scrubbed recently. Countless racks and shelves mounted on the walls hold neatly organized dishware and utensils.

Two older women stand in the center of the room, chopping fruits at a kitchen island. Their white aprons are already stained from a long shift. One of them looks up when you enter and exclaims your name in delight.

“Oh, honey! It’s been too long!” she beams as she hurries over to you. She’s shorter than you, her light brown wavy hair framing the crow’s feet etched into her face. It rubs softly against your chin as she stands on tiptoe to hug you tight. You can’t help but smile back when she kisses your cheek.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Teema. She was here yesterday,” says the other woman in a serious tone, but her smile at you is just as warm. She’s taller, with straight, blonde hair tucked primly into a hairnet. Her steel-gray eyes observe Silco coolly, gazing curiously at him.

“Hi, Teema. Hi, Cuny,” you squeak out. Teema is still squeezing you too tight for you to breathe. When she finally lets you go, you rummage in the wagon and pull out two small paper bags. “I got some sweetbread for you.”

“Oh, sweetheart, how did you know I was craving some?” Teema laughs heartily and takes a bag from you right away. She rips it open and immediately chomps into the snack, humming in satisfaction.

“Thank you,” Cuny says gratefully. “Could you put mine in the refrigerator please?”

“I’ll take them,” Teema says gleefully.

“Don’t forget to wash your hands,” the other woman says, exasperated at her partner’s impulsiveness.

You hand Teema the second bag and she scurries off. Fast as lightning, she tosses the bags in a nearby fridge and then walks a full circle around Silco. “And who’s this tall glass of sweetmilk?”

“Teema…” the other woman says sternly.

“This is my friend, Silco,” you say a little too loudly, embarrassed by Teema’s conduct.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Silco. Our girl has never brought a man here before!” Teema says enthusiastically.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Silco says politely while you wince inwardly at her pushiness. “I like your tattoo.”

He gestures at Teema’s shoulder, adorned with a one-eyed Poro smiling dopily. The portrait is bordered by sunflowers with vibrant, golden-orange petals. The lines are clean and thin, expertly inked by a steady hand. The velvet smoothness of the petals contrasts sharply with the spiky fur of the animal, the difference in textures rendered so masterfully that you could almost expect to feel them under your fingertips. 

“Thank you! The girl who did this used to live here,” Teema says proudly. “Her name is Nyle, do you know her? She works in the Sumps—”

“Why don’t the two of you have lunch,” Cuny says firmly, walking forward to lay a hand on Teema’s shoulder. “We’ll take care of the food, thank you.”

“What? We could use the help here—” Teema starts, but you turn away and stalk off, not bothering to say goodbye.

If your heart was merely uncomfortable before, the name that Teema mentioned unleashes a wave of grief and anger that crashes through your chest. It has your heart pounding so loudly in your ears that you almost don’t hear Silco running to catch up with you. 

He calls out your name, worried. You ignore him and keep walking until he grabs your elbow.

“You should eat if you’re hungry,” you try to say in a casual voice, but your voice hitches. It’s hard to talk around the stone lodged in your throat. “The food here is great.”

“I’m not hungry,” he says, looking at you with concern. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” you say, irritated. “I just needed some air.” You jerk your elbow out of his grip and kneel down to fuss with your shoelaces, avoiding his eyes. When you stand up, you brush some imaginary dirt off your pants, still unwilling to meet his worried gaze. 

He says your name again, and you reluctantly look up at him.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a terrible liar?” he says gently. You can’t help but laugh at that, letting out a shaky huff as you glance away.

“I’m sorry about Teema,” you say, still attempting at nonchalance. “She can be… a lot.” 

You’re tempted to say more, but deep down, you know you shouldn’t lash out at her. This isn’t the first time that Teema has frustrated you: you’ve asked her multiple times to take down that photograph, and to never mention that name in front of you ever again. But she means well, and you can’t find it in yourself to stay angry at her for long.

Besides, she’s never hurt you as badly as that person did.

“What else is troubling you?” Silco asks quietly.

Your first instinct is to lie and say “nothing.” But as unpleasant as it is, it’s relevant to another conversation you still need to have with Silco. 

You’ve known Teema long enough to anticipate how her forgetfulness could trigger you. Maybe deep down, you wanted her to talk about that person. You were already struggling with how to pull Silco aside and drop a figurative bomb on him. 

Teema gave you the opportunity, and it would be a waste if you didn’t take advantage of it.

“I have to tell you something…” You take a deep breath, trying to fortify yourself. “Do you mind if we go somewhere quiet?”

“Not at all,” he answers immediately. “Please, lead the way.”

Even with the sense of anticipation curling sourly in your stomach, you can’t help but smile at him. He has no idea what you’re about to tell him, but his willingness to hear you out cheers you up anyways. 

You lead him out of the cafeteria and down the hall towards a staircase. When a gaggle of chattering kids and their harried caretaker pass by, you exchange hellos while Silco nods politely at them. As you climb up the stairs, a sense of impending doom rises in your chest, your heart beating faster.

The second floor consists of dormitories, private bedrooms, restrooms, and communal showers. At this time of day when most people are eating lunch, you hope to find an empty room. You get lucky with the first door you knock on; nobody answers, so you open the door and stand aside, letting Silco enter first.

The smaller sleeping quarters are used mostly by down-on-their-luck nursing mothers or families who have nowhere else to go, so you and the Embrace’s staff put in special effort to make these rooms as cozy as possible. Colorful, fluffy rugs cover the floor, soft enough to tempt you into taking off your boots and socks. Thick, wide blankets are draped on each of the four beds, large enough to almost touch the ground. You’re tempted to grab one of the fat and squashy pillows for comfort, but you decide to hold off for now.

You sit on the floor at the foot of a bed. Instead of sitting down next to you, Silco kneels and peeks underneath the furniture.

“Hello, little girl,” he says kindly.

Curious, you crouch next to him to see who he’s talking to. Under the bed is a young child barely out of toddlerhood, holding onto a rabbit plushie as big as herself. Her pale blue eyes stare out at you from the shadows. The irregular layers of her blue hair are rumpled from pressing against the underside of the bed.

“Hi, sweetie,” you say warmly to her.

Her eyes dart between you and Silco, then she clumsily crawls towards you. You hold out your arms as she climbs into your lap. When you hug her, she drops the plushie to hug you back.

The girl turns to you with wide, serious eyes. Solemnly, she says, “I’m a ‘norphan.”

“Pardon?” Silco asks amicably.

“Sweetie…” you say gently. You hold her unblinking gaze and tuck an unruly lock of hair behind her ears. “What did we say about telling lies?”

“’Only lie to strangers and Enforcers,’” the little girl recites.

“Very good,” you praise her cheerfully. She giggles when you boop her on the nose. “Why aren’t you eating lunch?”

“Waiting,” the girl says, burying her face in your shoulder. She turns her head slightly to stare blankly at Silco.

“Waiting for what?”

“Powder?” a childish voice at the doorway calls out.

The three of you turn to see another little girl in the doorway, slightly older with messily chopped and short pink hair. 

You reach out to her as she walks past Silco to throw her arms around your neck.

“Hi, Vi,” you say brightly, hugging both kids tightly. “Where were you?”

“I was in the bathroom,” says the pink-haired girl. “Can we sleep here tonight?”

“Of course, honey. You, Powder, and your parents can all share a room,” you say tenderly.

“Can I have my own room? Dad snores,” Vi complains.

“If you go to bed first, you’ll fall asleep sooner. That way you won’t hear him snoring,” you whisper conspiratorially to Vi, as if sharing a trade secret. “If he’s still too loud, just put a pillow over your head and hum to yourself. You won’t be able to hear him then.” 

“Really?” the child asks wonderingly.

You nod. “You girls go eat now. Make sure you finish everything on your plates.”

Vi smiles at you. “Thanks, auntie.”

You smooch both Vi and Powder on their foreheads. They giggle as they clasp hands, hurrying away. Their little stomping footsteps echo in the hallway.

Leaving you and Silco alone.

You get up and sit on the bed, crumpling the blanket in an anxious fist. He takes a seat next to you, his shoulder brushing up against yours.

“So those children are ‘Powder’ and ‘Violet’?” he asks. 

“Yeah, their parents drop them off here sometimes when they’re working,” you try to say casually, still avoiding looking at him.

“I’m friends with Felicia and Connol, but I haven’t yet had the opportunity to meet their children,” Silco muses out loud. 

“You’re one of the Children of Zaun; shouldn’t you know every child in Zaun?” you joke weakly.

“Becoming acquainted with every Sumpsnipe in the underground would be a more difficult endeavor than attaining independence for the Undercity,” he chuckles. “But if you’re their ‘auntie’, perhaps I could become their ‘uncle’.”

“They’d like that,” you say quietly. 

You’re not sure what to say next. It’s so tempting to lean your head on Silco’s shoulder. The easy, encouraging smile he gives you is too inviting, so you squeeze your eyes shut and turn away from him. 

“It’s just us now,” he says softly, unbothered by your caginess. “Whatever it is you need to say, I’m listening. Take as long as you need.”

You’ve been dreading this moment—lifting the veil from Silco’s eyes—all day now. Even so, you’re almost surprised at how scared you are. 

You take a long, shaky breath, counting down from ten. You open your mouth to speak, but your voice refuses to come out. Silco waits patiently as you swallow and clear your throat.

“...Do you remember how I started working for Topsiders?” you finally ask in a dry voice. You had told him that morning weeks ago, the day after burglarizing Councilor Salo. It feels like it happened in another life; so much has changed since becoming better friends with Silco.

“You were selling paintings at a Progress Day fair when you were a teenager,” he recalls. “Just as you were about to be arrested for vending without a permit, a Topside merchant came to your rescue. He was so impressed by your skill, he declared himself your patron on the spot. I would have done the same.”

“Thanks,” you smile weakly at him. Despite yourself, you feel a beaming pride at the memory. “He wanted portraits for him and his entire family. He had a wife and four kids, so it was a jackpot. It was a pain in the ass getting them to pose, though.”

It’s one thing to think back on the memories, but it’s another to speak of them out loud. The lump in your throat hardens, threatening to choke you. You try to swallow it but fail.

“At that time I was still living here. Kharon, Teema, and Cuny were happy for me but the other kids… weren’t,” you say slowly. “They kind of gave me a hard time.”

“What happened?” Silco asks. His voice falls flat, but a tiny notch furrows between his eyebrows.

“Just some bullying,” you shrug. “Kids will be kids, you know?”

You don’t go into detail about your brushes getting stolen, your paints getting flushed down the toilet, or your sketchbooks getting torn to pieces. Some of your already completed paintings had even been burned, forcing you to request a postponement in deadlines. 

Silco doesn’t press you for the specifics, but his face turns stony, his stoic demeanor betrayed only by a muscle twitching in his jaw. It touches you that he feels angry on your behalf; for a revolutionary, you thought he’d be made of tougher stuff.

“My friends really pulled through for me,” you say. “They’d beat up my bullies and protect my stuff. I’d try to share my money with them, but they always said no… until they didn’t.”

You frown at your own naivety. The blanket falls out of your grasp as you raise your fist to your chest, fingernails digging into your palm.

“Becoming a gang was Nyle’s idea. I’d get commissions from rich Topsiders and scope out their mansions. Gita and Kai would burglarize them at night, and then Nyle would fence what they stole,” you say, closing your eyes to better remember the details. “Did you know that it’s safer to only steal one earring? That way, the owner will just think they lost it. They’re less likely to think it was taken.”

“The item is less valuable on its own. But you mitigate the risk of being caught,” Silco muses. “Very clever.”

“I learned that from Nyle. It worked for a while, and we made great money… but...” You swallow again, preparing yourself to talk about the worst part of the story. Still, you can’t help but feel proud of your crimes. Stealing from the rich to feed your friends was the noblest endeavor you could aspire to at that age. Seeing Silco’s smirk of approval spurs you on to keep going. 

“We stole a Valdiani from an Academy professor, and he freaked out. It was a gift from his dead daughter… and he fired his maid, because he thought she stole it.”

The rock in your throat is a boulder now, the agony choking every muscle fiber in your neck. You press on through gritted teeth. “I wanted to find her and apologize. She was just doing her job. But I was scared she’d turn me in… so I didn’t say anything.

“Then I found out she was from the Undercity, so I asked Nyle if she could join our gang. She said no, it wasn’t our problem. I tried changing her mind, but she wouldn’t. 

“...Then we started fighting about the money.” 

Money… the root of all evil. The solution to and source of so many problems in the Undercity. You almost wish you could bribe Silco into leaving so you don’t have to finish your story.

“Gita and Kai wanted more money because they were doing all the heavy lifting. They said it should come from my share since I was just ‘sitting on my ass and painting’… but I didn’t want to. If they screwed up, I’d get in trouble, too. I’m the one who set up the job in the first place, you know? And I’m visiting the Pilties regularly, so of course they’d suspect me…” you babble on, trying to defend yourself.

As important as it is to rationalize your past actions to Silco, you know deep down that you could have done better. You were already being paid generously for your commissions; you didn’t need the extra money from your criminal activities. But it was the principle that mattered more to you at the time. Even if your friends’ contributions differed from your own, it didn’t mean that yours mattered less than theirs.

“I should have helped her,” you say in a wobbly voice. You close your eyes as tears begin to well up, your nose stinging and tingling with rising pressure. Your chest heaves as you finally succumb to the visceral throes of regret. “And my friends needed the money more than I did… now they’re all gone…”

Silco immediately wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a hug. You press your face into his chest, shaking and sobbing. Your tears stain his shirt. He squeezes you tight, his breath light and warm against your ear as he lowers his head to speak.

“It’s okay,” he says, so gently. “You and I both know that Topside is to blame. They have us fighting over their table scraps while they feast aboveground. The children of Zaun deserve more than their runoff. It’s not your fault for wanting a fair share.”

“I’m—” you hiccup, trying to stop gasping so you can speak properly. “I’m not as good of a person as you think I am—"

He hushes you and chuckles. The sound is low and rumbles in his chest, vibrating against your cheek. “Candidly, I thought you would confess to something much worse. We’ve all done terrible things in the name of survival. Your ‘sins’ are no worse than anyone else’s in the underground. They’re certainly better than mine.

“As for your friends, you did the best you could for them,” he continues. “Their well-being was not your responsibility. That would have been too much for anyone to handle on their own.”

He pulls away from you to tilt your face upwards. Your vision is blurry with tears, but you stare into the bright turquoise smears of his eyes as he returns your gaze.

 “Believe me when I say, you did nothing wrong,” he concludes.

The effect his words have on you is soothing. Your sins have weighed you down for so long, dragging you into deep waters, drowning in guilt. Holding onto your secrets for so long with chafed, bleeding fingers; never telling anyone else, not even when Kharon found you wandering the Sumps aimlessly after you were kicked out of the apartment you shared with your friends. Never confessing to what happened even during Teema’s persistent questioning or Cuny’s curious stares. Too afraid to face other people’s judgment of your mistakes. 

But if your secrets were an anchor holding you down, the chain is severed by Silco’s reassurance. You’re still underwater, but a heavy weight peels away from your shoulders. The change in pressure disorients you, and you feel dizzy as you take another shuddering breath. 

You stammer out, “I c-can’t join the Children—I don’t want to be used again—”

“I understand,” Silco says reassuringly.

“I’m—I’m so useless—I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be,” he says firmly. “I will say it as many times as you need to hear it… you’re perfect.”

Your next breath fills your lungs with a renewed vitality. It’s so relieving to hear Silco’s acceptance of you. You’ve hidden your sins in the dark for so long, but he doesn’t flinch away when you shine a light on them. 

He actually leans in, pressing his forehead against yours. He’s solid and warm, a beacon you swim towards in the abating storm of your distress.

His thumb slowly wipes your tears away, a light touch against your eyelids.

You press your nose against his.

His hand moves to hold the back of your head. His fingers thread through your hair.

Your hand slides from your lap to rest on his knee. 

He bumps his foot against yours. His lips part ever so slightly. 

Your breaths mingle.

You lean in—

“Auntie?” Vi’s voice rings out from the doorway, shattering the moment.

You jerk backwards away from Silco and jump to your feet. In your haste to run over to Vi, you almost trip over yourself. 

“Hi, sweetie!” you say too loudly, crouching down in front of her.

If the little girl notices your blushing and tearstained face, she doesn’t mention it. She cranes her head to look behind you, squinting. “Is my rabbit here?”

You look over your shoulder to see Silco walking over to the foot of the bed. He leans down to grab the forgotten rabbit plushie. His movements are graceful as he gingerly picks up the toy and carefully brushes some dust off it. You can’t help but admire how tall and lean he is, like a crane wading through a pond. Your blush deepens, heat creeping from your cheeks down your neck. 

You busy yourself with tidying Vi’s hair as he saunters over. He crouches down next to you and hands the toy to the little girl.

“Here you go,” he says kindly.

Vi takes the plushie, staring at him without saying anything.

“What do we say now, Vi?” you remind her gently.

“Thanks, mister,” the girl says after a long pause. Her wide eyes still watch Silco with curiosity.

“Very good,” you praise her. “Have you finished eating yet?”

Vi finally looks at you and shakes her head.

“Tell Cuny I said it’s okay for you to have seconds. You need to eat a lot so you grow big and strong!” You pat the child on the head, hoping your voice sounds more enthusiastic than panicky. Silco’s close proximity to you has your heart hammering, still recovering from the whirlwind of emotions.

Vi giggles when you smooch her on the head. She dashes off, clutching the plushie tight. You stand up to watch her disappear down the hallway, the toy’s ears flapping all over.

You’re tempted to run after her and leave Silco behind. Despite his affirmations, you’re now embarrassed by your earlier show of vulnerability. In retrospect, it seems silly that you were afraid of losing him. He’s been nothing but a good friend to you, after all. 

He stands across from you now in the doorway, staring at you. You sniffle and wipe the last of the tears from your eyes before turning to him.

“Are you alright?” he asks, concerned. His brows are still pinched in worry, the wrinkles on his forehead deepening into trenches. 

“I will be,” you say. And it doesn’t feel like a lie. You smile at him without forcing it. “Thank you.”

He gives you a puzzled look. “What on earth for?”

You let out an amused exhale through your nose. On impulse, you step forward to hug him. 

He immediately reciprocates, his arms wrapping around your torso as you nuzzle into his chest. His heart beats a comforting rhythm against your ear as he presses his cheek to your hair. 

You don’t know how long you stand there in silence, caught in each other’s orbit, unable and unwilling to break free to rejoin the greater galaxy. 

Silco’s stomach rumbles loudly. He lets go of you and steps back, frowning in mortification.

“Let’s get lunch,” you say with a chuckle. “My treat.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, we’re making a new batch of ice cream for dessert today, it should be ready by now. Do you like strawberry?”

“I’ve never had ice cream before. I look forward to it.” He smiles at you, his teeth glinting in the sunlight shining through the window.

You marvel at his beautiful smile. You hope he’ll let you paint it one day. 

───────────────── ●◉◎◈◎◉● ─────────────────

If you liked this fic, please reblog and/or leave a comment! My inbox is also open to requests for both sketches and drabbles, or just to chat. Feel free to say hi :3c

Chapter 10

[notthefirstfallenangel]

Memories IV

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, amnesia

Summary: You had your memory wiped after a messed-up mission. All that you remember is your childhood and fragmented glimpses of your teenage and adult years. Poor Simon, your would-be hubby, is left to pick up the pieces when you can't even recall his existence.

Words: 3.6k

A/N: Hey there! Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out. I know the fandom has been going through a tough time lately, and I just wanted to remind you to take care of yourself, especially your mental health. If you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here for you. Stay strong! ❤️

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4

The blood-red sun sank slowly below the horizon, casting an amber glow over the world. The sky was a tapestry of oranges and purples, fading into blue and black as night began to creep in. You stood at the entrance of your home, feeling strange tingles in your chest as you paused on the threshold. Simon was behind you, his tall frame blocking out what little light remained outside and casting a long shadow across the front hall.

“Welcome home,” he said softly, breaking the silence.

You stood there, unable to move. You felt like your limbs were made of lead and rooted to the spot. Your mind was a tempest of emotions; you were grateful to be free from the hospital walls, but deep down, terror lurked. Nervous anticipation rose inside as you feared what truth lay ahead about yourself that could shatter the delicate mirrors of your own reflection.

Simon seemed to sense your hesitation and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“You alright, love?” he asked, concern in his voice.

You nodded slowly, staring into his dark eyes, feeling a sense of gratitude towards him. Simon had been by your side every step of the way, watching as you slowly pieced your life back together. He had been there for every physical therapy session, every doctor’s appointment, every setback and triumph.

He had remained a constant in your life, a source of strength and support when you needed it most.

You slowly turned to face him as Simon’s hand remained on your shoulder. You looked up at his face, illuminated by the dim light coming from the living room, and took in his sharp features. His jawline was chiselled, and his eyes were piercing, exuding a sense of confidence and ease that you found reassuring. You felt a sudden urge to lean in and kiss him, to feel his lips on yours and forget about the world outside. But instead, you stepped back and shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts.

“I’m okay, thank you. It’s just strange... being back,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Simon nodded in understanding, his hand still on your shoulder, and gestured for you to follow him into the living room. You walked past him, feeling the warmth of his skin against your own, and took in your surroundings.

After months in the sterile hospital room, everything felt surreal now that you finally got to come home. The world outside looked different as if it had changed in some way while you were confined to the hospital bed. You felt a sense of trepidation as you took in the sights and sounds of the city around you. It was all so overwhelming, so unfamiliar. You didn’t know how to navigate this new world without your memories. But as you stepped inside the house, a sense of comfort washed over you. The scent of lavender furniture polish wafted from within the house, helping to ease the tension in your body.

Simon placed your bags down with a thud like an anchor being dropped from his shoulders. He seemed to sense your unease and gently steered you towards the living room. The familiar surroundings filled you with warmth and peace, and for a brief moment, everything felt just right.

The living room was bathed in soft light, its walls lined with framed photos and paintings, some of which seemed vaguely familiar. You began to explore them, feeling an odd mixture of surprise and recognition as your gaze swept across each face in turn. Some were of Simon and you together, others were friends you had no recollection of. Yet still, something about them made your heart feel warm.

As you studied the photographs, Simon watched quietly as if waiting for you to come to some realisation. But the memories remained just beyond your reach. You could almost taste the bittersweet nostalgia on your lips, yet nothing solid materialised.

You could feel his eyes on you, but you didn’t turn to look at him. Instead, you let your fingers brush over the frames, tracing the outlines of the people in the photographs as if trying to remember them.

You stopped at one picture, a group photo of Simon, you, and several others at what appeared to be a night of celebrations. Everyone was smiling and laughing, their faces filled with joy. You looked at each person in the photo, trying to place them in your memory, but nothing came to mind.

“Who are they?” you asked, pointing to the group in the photograph.

Simon came over to stand beside you, his arm brushing against yours. “These are your teammates— our teammates. The ones who’ve got your back in the field and in the mess. They’re family.”

You shook your head, “I don’t remember them,” you said with a hint of frustration. 

Simon placed a hand on your back, rubbing it soothingly. “It’s, uh, it’s alright, love. You’ll remember soon enough. Take your time. It’ll come to you, alright? So no need to be too anxious.”

But will I really? You wondered silently to yourself.

With a sigh, you turned away from the wall and towards Simon with an uncertain smile.

You noticed that he had changed out of his usual hoodie and was wearing a black leather jacket with a white shirt, looking more put-together than usual, as if he was trying to impress you. The tattoos on his forearm peeked out from under the sleeves of his jacket, adding to his edgy persona.

He frantically spent the day before scrubbing and scouring the house until it shone in perfect preparation for your long-awaited arrival. He felt like a nervous teenager on his first date, desperate to make a good impression. But he knew that this was different. This was about making you feel at home, helping you regain a sense of familiarity in a world that had become so foreign.

You turned to look at another photo, this time of Simon and you with a dog. The memories suddenly came flooding back, and your eyes lit up as you remembered the dog’s name.

“That’s Riley!” you exclaimed, feeling a slight sense of victory in finally remembering something.

“Riley! Here, boy!” you called.

But there was no barking, no sound of paws running across the floor. The house was eerily silent, save for the sound of your own breathing.

Simon’s expression turned grave as he looked at you, his hand still resting on your back.

“No, that, uh...Love,” Simon he said softly.” He... He passed, somethin’ like years ago.”

Your heart sank at Simon’s words, and tears threatened to spill from your eyes. You felt a sense of overwhelming loss, as if a part of you had died with the dog. You tried to remember the last time you had seen Riley. Still, the memory was elusive, like a dream that faded upon waking.

Simon saw the tears in your eyes and stepped forward to wrap you in a tight hug. You breathed him in, the smell of his cologne mixed with something else, something comforting like home.

You attempt to grasp at Riley’s memory, but your mind is foggy, and all you can recall is a faint trace of his affection. The anguish seizes you as you try to imagine the days spent together, playing fetch in the park and snuggling up on the couch, but all that remains are empty spots in your heart and mind. Burying your face in Simon’s chest, a harsh truth crashed down on you: You couldn’t even grieve properly because you didn’t remember the moments that connected you and Riley.

Simon’s stomach churned with guilt as he watched you suffer the same agony of Riley’s loss all over again. He had been so busy trying to make everything perfect for your return that he failed to factor in how hard it would be for you to come to terms with what had been taken away. Yet, despite the sorrow and regret, a glimmer of optimism flickered in his chest that perhaps you’d find the strength to remember even more. But for now, Simon knew you needed space and time to come to terms with everything that had happened.

As the two of you stood there in silence, lost in your thoughts, Simon’s grip on you tightened, and he pressed his lips to your forehead.

You could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, and it calmed the storm raging inside you.

When Simon finally pulled away, he gave you a small, sad smile. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t wanna spring that on you.”

You shook your head, feeling the weight of the loss. “It’s okay,” you said. It wasn’t.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“No, not now,”

Simon nodded, his gaze softening. “Alright... listen ‘ere, love. You have been eatin’ those crappy hospital meals. You wanna get something new in your body and your system, yeah?” he said gently as his fingers brushed against yours in a comforting gesture.” I’ll cook somethin’ proper. You’re gonna love it.”

You nodded in agreement, not having the energy to argue. It had been a while since you’d had a home-cooked meal, and the hospital food left a lot to be desired. You followed Simon into the kitchen, taking in the warm, cozy space. It was small but had everything you needed, including a small dining table and chairs. The countertops were cluttered with various kitchen appliances and utensils, but everything was clean and tidy.

Simon rummaged through the fridge and pantry, his eyes scanning the shelves for something to cook.

As he gathered the ingredients for a simple pasta dish, you watched him move around the kitchen with ease. There was something about the way he moved, with such grace and purpose, that made you feel drawn to him. He was like a force of nature, unstoppable and relentless in his pursuit of whatever he wanted.

You noticed how his muscles rippled beneath his shirt as he chopped vegetables, and you couldn’t help but feel a flutter of attraction in your chest. You almost felt guilty for feeling this way about a man you didn’t remember. You knew you two were engaged, but it felt strange to be drawn to someone you had no recollection of. Being with Simon felt familiar, like coming home even though you couldn’t remember why. It was as if your body recognised him before your mind did.

The hospital breakdown was a pivotal moment in your relationship, and it seemed you two had struck a deal.

And yet, even though your memory didn’t seem any clearer, there was still a sense that your outlook had changed.

You seemed more vulnerable, more reliant on him for comfort and guidance. The barriers and walls you used to keep him away with were crumbling, and the two of you were starting to form a real connection.

This is progress, Simon told himself, hopefully. This is an improvement.

Simon felt both terrified and excited by this newfound closeness. He was scared to get too close too soon, scared of the pain of rejection if your memory did return and you chose not to stay with him. But at the same time, he could feel himself falling even deeper in love with every passing moment.

He wanted to give you some space, but his heart ached for yours.

You wished there was some way to go back in time and remember who you used to be together—but there just wasn’t. You didn’t know how to be the person Simon remembered, and that scared you. You wanted more than anything to make him happy, but it felt like no matter what you did or said, it wouldn’t be enough for him.

After dinner, he showed you the bedroom. The room was simple but elegant, with a queen-sized bed in the centre and a large window overlooking the backyard. The walls were painted a soft blue, and the bedding was white and fluffy, inviting you to sink in and drift off to sleep.

“I...I don’t want to take your bed.”

Simon smiled warmly at you. “It’s our bed, alright?” he said, his hand reaching out to take yours. “I ain’t gonna fight you over who needs to sleep where. I have a couch; lemme sleep on it.”

“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” you said, looking up at him with a small smile. “Are you sure you don’t mind sleeping on the couch?”

Simon shook his head, his hand still holding yours. “Look, love. We’re both tired here. I want to take care of ya and make sure you’re comfortable. So, you don’t gotta fight, and I ain’t gonna be arguing, or I’m gonna have to tie you down, and force a sleep mask over your eyes, yeah?”

“Okay, Okay,” you laughed. “Thank you,” you said softly.

Simon leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Alright, you rest up. I’ll see ya in the morning,” he said before turning to leave the room. 

You watched him go, feeling a sense of longing wash over you. You wished you could remember what it was like to be with him, to feel his touch and his love.

Laying in bed, the day’s events replayed in your mind like a movie reel. The memory of Riley’s passing still weighed heavily on your heart. Still, there was something else tugging at the edges of your consciousness. It was like watching a horror movie with the sound turned down low; you could sense fear and trepidation from the dimly lit scenes playing out before you, but you couldn’t make out any details.

Your heart raced as you tried to piece together the fragments of this unknown memory, but it slipped away as quickly as it came, leaving you even more frightened than before.

You tried to sleep, but deep in your chest, you felt the beginnings of fear build. You turned over and over again in bed, growing more agitated by the minute. The shadows on the wall from the lamp beside it stretched out like malevolent spirits that wanted nothing more than for you to be afraid. Nothing to see here, they would say as they writhed and clawed at you with their formless hands, almost touching you before receding back into the darkness. Your feet move slowly through the darkness. The floor is cold under your feet as you step lightly through this unfamiliar place that once was your house.

“Damn it,” you said, the fear in your voice palpable in the silent room. You reached for the lamp on the bedside table, flicking it on and flooding the room with light. The shadows scattered, leaving nothing but the familiar sight of the bedroom. You took deep breaths, trying to steady your racing heart.

It was just a nightmare, you told yourself. It’s just a silly, irrational fear.

But deep down, you knew it was more than that. Something was lurking in your subconscious that you couldn’t quite grasp but knew was there. Something that made your skin crawl and your heart race.

You got out of bed, your feet hitting the cool hardwood floor.

Your feet move slowly through the darkness, the floor creaking beneath your weight. You move towards the door, your hand reaching out to grasp the doorknob. As you turn it, the door swings open with a low groan, revealing the dark hallway beyond.

Your heart thunders as you take the first step into the hallway. The darkness seems to encroach on you, swallowing up the light from the bedroom. You take another step forward, your eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of movement. You could hear the light snoring coming from Simon on the couch, but it didn’t bring you any comfort.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something lurking in the darkness waiting for you.

The hallway seemed to stretch on forever, the darkness consuming everything in its path. You felt like you were walking through a nightmare, one that you couldn’t escape from. You tried to call out for Simon, but your voice was hoarse and barely audible.

Suddenly, you heard a sound from down the hallway. It was faint, but it was there. A soft whisper, calling out your name.

Your heart leapt into your throat. You couldn’t see anything, but you could feel a presence in the darkness. You could feel its breath on your neck, its fingers brushing against your skin.

You turned around and ran towards the couch where Simon was sleeping when you saw a figure emerge from the shadows. It was a woman, her face twisted in a grotesque grin.

You could feel your feet sinking into the ground as if the floor was swallowing you whole.

You tried to scream, but the darkness choked your voice. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you were sure it would burst out of your ribcage. And then, suddenly, the darkness lifted, like a veil being lifted from your eyes.

Just a dream, a nightmare that left you gasping for breath as you sat in bed. Your heart still raced, and your skin was slick with sweat.

You looked around the room, relieved to see that it was just a dream. But the feeling of terror lingered, its tendrils wrapping around your heart and refusing to let go.

You slid out of the bed, your bare feet brushing against the cool wooden floor. The air was thick with a sense of dread, and you needed to shake it off.

You moved quietly to the living room, past the vase of flowers on the table, their petals soft and pliable beneath your fingers.

Simon lay asleep on the couch near the window, bathed in moonlight that filtered through the blinds. You approached him, hovering over his still form like a guardian angel. The outline of his face was sharp yet softened by shadows; you could see the rise and fall of his chest under the comforter he had kicked off while sleeping. As you considered waking him, his eyes fluttered open.

“you good?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep and concern.

You jumped, startled by his sudden awakening.

“Oh, I’m... nothing,” you said, trying to sound casual. “I just couldn’t sleep and wanted to come out here for a bit.”

Simon frowned, his eyes dark with concern.

“C’mere,” he said, lifting the edge of the comforter. You hesitated for a moment, unsure if it was a good idea, but the weight of loneliness was too much to bear. As you nestled closer, his arms wound around you, and the press of his chest at your back reassured you that everything would be alright. His breath on the nape of your neck mingled with the scent of lavender fabric softener, and his heartbeat against your spine slowed to match your own. His touch calmed your racing mind until all that remained were the gentle brushstrokes of his fingertips along your arm.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice gentle in the darkened room.

You hesitated, not wanting to burden him with your fears, but then decided to tell him. “I had a nightmare,” you said softly, feeling embarrassed.

“You want to-?”

“No,” you stopped him. You didn’t want to talk about it, not wanting to relive the terror of the nightmare.

He didn’t push it. “Okay... If you have that nightmare again, I’ll kick that thing’s arse, I will. Now, close your eyes. You need your sleep, darlin’.” his voice was low and soothing.

You couldn’t help but giggle at his protectiveness and felt a sense of security as he pulled you closer to him.

“Sweet dreams, okay? And close those eyes of yours, dear,” he murmured, kissing your head.

You smiled, and soon, with the warmth of his body next to yours, you fell into a deep and peaceful sleep.

The next morning, you woke up to the sound of a shushed argument coming from the front door. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and sat up, groggy and disoriented.

You got up from the couch and walked towards the front door, your bare feet padding against the hardwood floor. As you got closer, you could hear the muffled voices growing louder.

You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should interfere, but curiosity got the better of you. Slowly, you pushed the door open, and sunlight streamed through the opening, flooding the dark living room.

“Go away. Now.” Simon said, his voice ringing with anger, “I swear to bloody god, I’ll break your fakin’ nose.”

He was a silhouette in the murky morning light, feet planted firmly as he stood before an unfamiliar figure. His shoulders were tense, and a single bead of sweat trickled down the back of his neck. His face was concealed by the usual black balaclava that melded seamlessly into his dark clothing.

The other man seemed taken aback by Simon’s outburst. Still, he quickly regained his composure and stepped forward, revealing himself in the dim light.

“C’mon, I just want to see ‘er”.

The Scottish lilt pierced through the thick silence like a knife, sending a shiver down your spine.

Like an electric shock, you felt a sudden jolt of energy as images of the past suddenly emerged from the fog of amnesia. Images, sounds, and conversations flooded your mind as fragments of memories all clicked into place, and you remembered him.

“Soap?”

Tags: @8sy-errah8 @yyiikes @spencerreidisbae123 @oranoyaora @sae1kie @originaldeerhottub @cr4shposts @caramlizedtomatoes  @ilovehyperfixating @ghostlythots  @dotcie

[monocodoll]

MonocoDoll's Vile Ventures 1.1.0 (OnlySims WIP Update #4)

Hello everyone!

I know it has been a while since the last report. But I promise I have not been idle. Since the last report, I have been working on a side feature... Cosmetic Surgery. Miscellaneous features which would provide additional content. Alpha testing for bugs alongside a friend. And, I have been working on the guides as much as I could. They still need to be worked on more before they are completed. 🙂

Just a quick refresher, in past reports we have went over the main feature OnlySims. Some of the side features like Simstagram and LlamaPay. And a few of the Miscellaneous features, which include usable tumblers, Cannabis Gummies, and Cigars. In this report I will go over as much as I can that has been worked on since then.

Additional Miscellaneous Features

-New Drug Objects Introduced Into Vile Ventures

Weed Tray, this is an object where you could fill it up with a full cannabis baggy of a strain, rolling paper or swisher sweets, and a BIC Lighter. Depending whether you chose rolling paper or swisher sweets will determine whether the tray is filled with blunts or joints. Bietjie assisted me with setting up the geostates.

Cocaine Lines, this is an object that can be created from selecting a Cocaine Baggy and choosing to create a line. You can then choose the amount of uses this line has and once you place it somewhere you can choose to do the drug together with other sims. They will route to it and snort it. The Cocaine Lines are from MochaSims. They will be added to the credits for vile ventures once the update is released.

-Bubble Bar Can Now Be Filled With Cannabis

You may now utilize a Bubble Bar to consume your Cannabis. Simply have a full baggy of a Cannabis strain and fill up the Bubble Bar with it.

-Addiction Predisposition

Sims may now become predisposed to addiction or not. This is assigned to sims who are teen and above. This can be assigned either when the world is loaded into or when the sim becomes a teen.

Being Predisposed or not Predisposed to addiction is dependent on a few factors...

Any sim has a base chance of being predisposed between 15%-20%. The chance increases by 25% for each parent that is predisposed. And each Susceptible trait to predisposition adds an additional 5% increase to this chance. These traits are Neurotic, Grumpy, Brooding, Unstable, and Overemotional.

Being Predisposed just means that you will obtain drug addiction sooner. Meanwhile a sim who is not predisposed to addiction will be able to consume a bit more of the drug before they become addicts.

-New Addiction Chance System

Previously, addiction was formed randomly. It was a roll each time your sim consumed a drug after their first use. The first use was always a guarantee to never cause addiction. Now there are new factors that take into account when a sim may become addicted to a certain substance.

First, when a sim takes a substance, what is determined is whether the sim is already addicted. If the sim is already addicted, then the addiction moodlet timer is reset. Prolonging their addiction.

If the sim were to not be addicted, then what will be considered is the amount of times a drug has been taken, the sims age, and whether the sim has been "Chain Consuming" the drug. As well as whether the sim is predispoed to addiction or not. This is all taken into account, before a dice is rolled to determine whether the sim becomes addicted.

Example A:

We have a female young adult named Monica. She is predispoed to addiction, Has smoked Cannabis previously 6 hours ago, and has smoked Cannabis a total of 3 times throughout her lifetime.

By Default: Addiction Threshold For Cannabis is 10 and Chain Consumption Threshold For Cannabis is between 8 Hours. These values are tunable.

-Monica Has Smoked Cannabis a total of 3 times in her life. So she will be given +3 points

-Since Monica smoked Cannabis before 8 hours have passed. She wil be given +2 points.

-Since Monica is a Young Adult she will be given +2 points

-Since Monica is predisposed to addiction she is given a 50% boost to the value of the amount of a Substance taken. So in this instance (3*0.50 = 1.5)

Total Points: 3 + 2 + 2 + 1.5 = 8.5

Threshold For Cannabis: 10

Since Monica did not exceed the threshold she will not yet roll a chance to become addicted to Cannabis. Once she reaches that threshold in her lifetime, then she will roll 20% to get addicted each time she consumes Cannabis.

Example B:

We have a male Adult named Davis. He is not predisposed to addiction, Has smoked a Cigar previously 10 hours ago, and has smoked Cigars a total of 8 times throughout his lifetime.

By Default: Addiction Threshold For Nicotine is 9 and Chain Consumption Threshold For Nicotine is between 5 hours. These values are tunable.

-Davis has smoked Cigars a total of 8 times in his life. So he will be given +8 points.

-Since Davis has not smoked Cigars between 5 hours of smoking a cigar previously. He will be given -1 Points.

-Since Davis is a Adult he will receive no additional points

Since Davis is not predispoed to addiction he is given a 50% decrease to the value of the amount of a substance taken. so in this instance. (8 * 0.50 = 4)

Total Points: 8 + (-1) + (-4) = 3

Since Davis did not exceed the threshold, he will not yet roll a chance to become addicted to Nicotine. Once he reaches that threshold in his lifetime, then he will roll 20% to get addicted each time he consumes Cigars.

-New Setting Options For Vile Ventures

Remove Felonies, per popular request I made a setting where you can remove your sims felonies. Which prevented them from getting employment.

Set Opinion On Drugs, per popular request I made a setting where you can choose the opinion that other sims hold on drugs. Where as before the opinion was solely based on traits.

Set Addiction Predisposition, with the new Addiction Predisposition system, I also made a setting where you can set that up for a sim.

Check Addiction Predisposition, with the new Addiction Predisposition system, I made a setting where you can view whether a sim is predisposed or not.

-Big D*ck Problem Mod Integrated Into Vile Ventures

The BDP mod will be integrated with Vile Ventures. This is mainly because the associated traits could be utilized to obtain more likes and more subscribers from posting on your Simstagram and OnlySims.

The BDP mod that will be integrated has been updated to include better setting options and some changes were made to the Size Queen Gain method. Where previously it was a hidden skill. That is no longer the case. Also implemented tunable to disable BBC per request.

-X-Change Pills

Basically X-Change pills are fictional pills that instantly change your gender. They come with a color, duration, and a flavor. There are many more, but I only implemented these so far...

Color:

Pink: Transforms From Male To Female Sex.

Blue: Transforms From Female To Male Sex

Duration:

Basic: Lasts for 24 hours and cannot get pregnant

X-Tra Strength: Lasts for a week and can get pregnant. If you get pregnant, then the change will be permanent.

Plus: Change is permanent

Flavor:

Bimbo: You'll be able to alter your appearance when you change. However, you'll learn mental skills much slower.

Choice: You'll be able to choose when you switch back. However, if you lose the second pill to revert the change, then your change will remain permanent.

Clone: Transforms you into a specific sim. Need their consent.

Continue: Temporary pill where every time you woohoo, the duration gets extended. For example: If you have a 24-hour Continue and have woohoo, it will last another 24 hours.

Breeder: Greatly increases fertility (Pink Pill)

Bull: Greatly increases fertility (Blue Pill)

Surrogate: Allows you to become pregnant but you turn back afterward.(Pink Pill)

Note: I may cut/delay this feature from this update. I'm currently thinking that it may be too niche. And, I think this feature would be better with an update that introduces a reproductive cycle. Which is something I would be interested in implementing. As it is lacking in the sims 3.

-New Ways To Obtain Drugs

Kleptomaniac sims in the medical field in career level 3 and above may bring home substances after work.

Sims in the medical field from career level 5 and above may fill out fake prescriptions to obtain drugs in their mail.

-Nicotine Products Production

Cigars and Cigarettes can now be produced. The steps are as follows:

1)Obtain a Tobacco License. This will allow you to purchase Tobacco seeds

2)Grow Tobacco Plants. You will need to obtain Tobacco Leaves

3)Place Tobacco Leaves in Drying Rack

4)Collect Dried Tobacco Leaves once they are dried

5)Place Tobacco Leaves inside of an Aging Barrel and let the leaves age

6) With Raw Rolling Paper or A Dried Tobacco Leave select the barrel and choose to collect product.

7)Raw Rolling Paper will produce Cigarettes and a Dried Tobacco Leaf will produce a Cigar.

8)You can purchase Empty Cigarette Boxes or Cigar Boxes to fill them up.

-Sharing Drug For Interactions...         - Cigars         - Cigarette         - All 6 Strains For Blunts         - All 6 Strains For Joints         - All 6 Strains For Gummies         - Testosterone Enanthate         - Trenbolone         - Estrogen Blockers         - LSD         - Shrooms         - MDMA         - Xanax         - Adderall         - PainKillers         - Cocaine         - Meth         - Heroin

Under the friendly pie menu option, you may offer someone drugs. If they accept, they will take a use from your substance and consume it in front of you. The option only appears when the other sim is your friend.

-Do Drugs Together Interactions For...

        - Weed Tray (For Blunts and Joints of all 6 strains)         - (Pack of Gummies)All 6 Strains For Gummies         - LSD Sheet         - Shroom Baggy         - Cigarette Pack         - Cigars Pack         - Testosterone Enanthate Vial         - Trenbolone Vial         - Estrogen Blockers Vial         - MDMA Baggy/Pill Bottle         - Xanax Pill Bottle         - Adderall Pill Bottle         - PainKillers Pill Bottle         - Cocaine Lines         - Meth Baggy         - Heroin Baggy

All these objects now have an interaction where you can consume the drugs together. You can select any nearby sim and so long as they aren't against drugs they wil consume the drugs alongside you.

-Non Actives Autonomously Doing Drugs

Non active sims may now consume drugs while they are out clubbing at either of these two lots kEP3_DanceClubRave and  kEP3_CocktailLoungeAsian. The drugs consumed while clubbing include MDMA, LSD, Shrooms, and Lean

Non active sims will also now consume drugs while they are at a Juice Keg Party. The drugs that non actives can consume at these parties are All 6 Cannabis Strains, Shrooms, LSD, MDMA, Cocaine, Adderall, Lean, Xanax, PainKillers, Cigarettes, and Cigars.

-Misc Objects

        - Bath Bombs -Usable on Baths

        - Visa Gift Cards - Usable to redeem for cash

        - Lip Stick Packaging - Simply made to receive as fan mail as an OnlySims model. Can sell product for simoleans

        - Quencher Tumbler - Usable         - Simple Modern Tumbler - Usable         - Hydro Flask Tumbler - Non usable. Still sellable. So useful for extra funds when receiving it as Fan mail.         - Swell Stainless Steel Bottle - Non usable. Still sellable. So useful for extra funds when receiving it as Fan mail.

Side Feature: Cosmetic Surgery

Surgery Options

At the Hospital Rabbithole, your sim could go over a few procedures to boost their appearance for Simstagram and OnlySims. Which include... BBL, Breast Augmentation, Liposuction, Tummy Tuck, Lip Fillers, Thigh Augmentation, Calf Augmentation, and Corset Liposuction.

Custom Surgery Traits

These Custom Surgery traits are given to the sim once they go over a operation. These traits provide a boost to the likes and subscriber gain for their OnlySims and Simstagram.

Bodacious Booty (BBL)

Busty Beauty (Breast Augmentation)

DSL (Lip Fillers)

Bodacious Thighs (Thigh Augmentation)

Thick Calves (Calve Augmentation)

Flat Stomach (Tummy Tuck)

Small Waist (Corset Liposuction)

Natural Traits

Natural Traits are traits that can be earned naturally. And provide a boost to likes and subrscriber gain for their OnlySims and Simstagram.

Muscular: This trait is provided to a sim who has a high enough fitness Slider value. (This value is tunable)

Busty Beauty (Natural): This trait is provided to a sim who has a high enough breast slider value (This value is tunable)

Surgery Operation Steps

Although, Surgery is a great way to boost your engagement and earning potential on Simstagram and OnlySims. There are some steps to take into consideration...

First Surgery is expensive. For example, for a BBL the default cost is 20,000 Simoleons.

2. After they are finished with the operation, your sim will be taken into the Plastic Surgery screen. Where if you have custom sliders you can customize your own operation. In this example we are getting a BBL.

3. After they are finished with their surgery they will receive the associated trait and be thrilled about their new operation.

4. However, with every new surgery there will be a recovery phase. Showcased by a sore moodlet. Until that moodlet expires, your sim will be going through a recovery phase.

5. During the recovery phase they could face throbbing. Which can be mended with painkillers. Or worst death, as any procedure could go wrong. (Percentages are tunable.)

6. However, once the custom sore moodlet expires, your sim will have officially recovered and they can enjoy their new body in peace.

Bug Fixes

(Bugs That Were Present For First Version That Have Been Fixed)

- Implemented fix where if the world you were playing at had a Police Station in a combo rabbithole than the sim being arrested would be dropped off at a random location then take a taxi to the police station to be jailed.

 - Implemented fix where sims who obtained felonies were unemployable for all careers. Where they should have at least been able to join the Criminal, Culinary, Military, and Part time jobs

- Fixed bug where sims were able to deal drugs to their household members

- Made Tunable where you may disable receiving the Going Wild Moodlet for the MDMA, Shrooms, and LSD drugs. The going Wild Moodlet causes a temporary trait change. Which was reported to effect players who had KinkyWorld negatively. If you have KinkyWorld and face issues due to the temporary trait change, you may disable this feature through the tunable xml.

 - Implemented fix where a smuggling racket with the equipment upgrade was bugged. This bug caused you to be forced to hold exactly 25 packages or bricks to smuggle. Otherwise the function would not work.

-Implemented fix where arrests would sometimes repeat after a sim has been dropped off at the police station lot.

-Implemented method where your Drug Dealing skill can be carried over if you were to travel or move to a different world.

-Implemented cleanup methods when crafting drugs via chemistry lab, when drugs are confiscated when being jailed, while smuggling, when curing cannabis, when selling drugs to other sims. These functions simply removed the items from the sims inventory, but did not delete them. They were basically placed in no mans land. Without Nrass errortrap, these items would never get deleted and your save file would get bigger overtime. Now they are get deleted via my script.

(Bugs That Were Found During Alpha Testing New Version of Vile Ventures And That Have Now Been Fixed)

-Fixed Bug where two sims would recieve a woohoo tape after shooting a recording. Now only the sim that initiates the woohoo should get the tape

-Read and Respond to comments interaction now drains fun when on the phone. Just like the computer variant of the interaction

-Added null check when you try to make a Had Woohoo with... Post on Simstagram. This null check was necesarry, otherwise your game may crash if the sim you woohooed with would be deleted and you tried to make that post.

-Fixed bug where Add LinkTree would still be present on a computer or laptop. Even if your sim already has an attached LinkTree connected.

-Fixed bug where OnlySims skill and Simstagram skill would not transfer over when you move or travel to another world.

-Fixed bug where sims may get the option to whimper or brag about taking a big D*ck on Simstagram, even though they did not woohoo with anyone with the associated traits.

-Fixed bug where a sim who woohooed with a non active Big D*ck sim would not get the the sensual paradise or f*cking sore moodlet.

-Fixed bug where non active teens taking drugs would cause a script error.

So far we are almost done with everything in regards to the OnlySims update. Just a little bit more of Alpha testing to ensure that we fix as many potential bugs as possible and I need to finish up those guides for OnlySims and Simstagram. Next post regarding the update will most likely be in regards to it being released. I think this is a solid update. Especially with additional drug features to strengthen the update. Also, I know we all agreed on the next theme being a Sugar Baby update, but what if we took a small deteour and attempted a reproductive cycle update? Thoughts?🤔 Unless someone else is working on it. Then we will stick with the Sugar Baby Update. Also, sorry for all the limited photos. Was trying to fit the report all in one post, but tumblr only allows me to include 30 photos. 😣