#but the whole thing genuinely haunts him :) only time in his life he let himself cry! and boy it was maniacal. laughing. crying.

[wraithsoutlaws]

3 and 5 for Dagger, 6 for Dragula

3. Has your OC killed a friend/family member/loved one? Yes! His adoptive father, Thatch, and his brother (kinda). After he was taken in by nomads as a kid, he never really acclimated well and rejected any attempt at making them his new family. He only cared about his little brother Casey and trying to protect him. He constantly clashed with Thatch even though he defended him a lot from clan elders and other members and generally protected him from facing the consequences of his actions (he was a troubled kid, unsurprisingly lol). Dagger harbored a lot of anger and trauma from his biological father that automatically transferred onto Thatch despite him being a generally Decent Guy and Father Doing His Best with two traumatized orphans. But they argued a lot throughout their life together and eventually Dagger totally snaps and kills him (stabs him 30 times oops). Sometime during those 30 stabbins', Casey interrupts and in wave of panic and adrenaline and blind rage, Dagger ends up cutting Casey's throat. It's a total accident but he watches his brother bleed out in front of him before he runs. Leaves the clan before anyone finds him (and is officially branded Raffen). Little did he know, Casey is actually found by a clan medic and is able to be saved in time! But Dagger lives several years believing him to be dead, and it's one of the biggest defining moments of his life, because without the single thing in this world he actually gave a shit about, he allows himself to detach completely and become truly an unhinged monster and thus its the start of the man the myth and the legend himself.

5. What is your OC’s moral code?

Well. its broken lol! He essentially sees other people as pawns to be used or toyed with, so he generally has no problem ruining lives. "If you got a problem with it square up and stop me" kind of deal. His worldview is shaped around survival of the fittest, and he sees nothing wrong with this. Be the Bigger Monster. If someone isn't willing to stoop that low then it means they're weak and free game and he's probably doing them a favor by killing them. The only people who he won't are children, the outliers in his mentality. Children should be taught to survive. They don't know any better, they need a good example. He'll show them a good example. He'll kill everything around them and then give them a knife. He's practical and realistic (so he believes). He doesn't get attached to anyone (he's just repressed). The only thing in the world that matters is blood. (All of this of course because he witnessed something very bad when he was very small and he never wanted to feel that scared again).

6. Would your OC make a deal with the devil?

There was a time where he was more of an idealist and he wouldn't, but he becomes a bit jaded and detached and for the right price he might. But not for anything like money or status and probably not even power. If he was going to go that far it'd be for something bloody and vengeful and scorched earth. It'd have to be very worth it for him to have a leash around his neck (again.)

[romanoffsbish]

The One That (Almost) Got Away

Natasha Romanoff (Intersex) x ChubbyMilf!R

GN!OC (Ryan) x Fem!R (Freshly divorced)

Natasha’s not the step-dad, she’s merely the dad that stepped up | WC: 9,218

Warnings: Ryan is dickhead coded | R Ghosted Nat so she is too | Confusing Feelings | Insecurities all Around (Body / Worth) | Everyone’s Horny | Happiest of Endings Though 🥰

Smut: Natasha has a penis | Oral - Both | Multiple Positions (Wall / Doggy / Guided Dick-Riding) | Praising / Degrading | Dirty Talk | Face Slap (R) | Heavy on Breeding | KO (R) | Needy R -> Cockwarming | Switch Energy but R basically Bottoms

——

Natasha watched you intently, just like she always did, and just like every time before now she wasn't left disappointed. Well, besides that time when you married Ryan, you looked gorgeous stood up at that altar, but you were painfully mismatched. They were the first person you had ever dated, but you never truly loved them. You loved Natasha though, she knew that deep within her yearning soul, felt it deep in her bones, but alas you chose the stable familiarity over love.

Natasha told you every time you two had made love that she wanted the whole thing, but you were in a committed (open) relationship. You had a child with another, and you decided she (deserved better) wasn't ready for that sort of responsibility. So, for the both of your sakes you had stopped coming over a year ago, without a word of goodbye—like a coward.

It broke you just the same, but at least you had a distraction with your infant around. All Natasha had was the haunting memories of a genuine love and, dangerous missions, a nearly lethal combination. It was only last month that the redhead stopped being reckless, which coincidentally, is exactly when she had heard of your unexpected divorce proceedings.

Tony had very loudly, intent obvious, offered a sobbing you a spacious, well-equipped place to stay since Ryan decided to kick you out, of your house. He also got you a better divorce lawyer. When she pestered him for a why though he had refused, stating 'you'll know soon enough' in the most ominous, almost threatening, way.

The reactions to your tumultuous entanglement around the compound were mixed. Most thought you two were a great match, those who met Ryan felt this way, others felt Natasha could do better than the girl who left her hanging. Then there was Tony, who alone believed the both of you to be aloof little cowards.

Ergo his childish response. Yet here you were, at the compound she still lived in, and she still hadn't been informed... It was driving her crazy, but she kept her cool, or at least she tried to, but you made it hard.

So damn hard not to run over and yell at you, just to then kiss you breathless, then she figured she would yell at you some more; but with less clothes, and in a passionate reunification of two desperate souls.

But she stood stuck to her spot, wishing desperately that she had Wanda's handy ability to read minds...

You stood across the field in a moment of uneasy silence. Pepper had to leave in a hurry, Tony excused himself with a promise to return. So now, without distraction, you were left lost in tumultuous thought.

Ryan and you had called it quits just six months ago after you gave birth to your sweet little girl, Delilah. To the outside world they looked like a bad guy, but with one peak into the carseat hood that currently shielded your daughter from the sun, everyone would know.

Know that maybe everyone was a bit wrong here...

There was only one rule the both of you set, don't let anyone else create life with you, and with Natasha's enigmatic charm you broke it easily. Ryan was still somewhat involved with Carter, but they denounced you and Delilah instantaneously. You knew better to expect anything else, but you were too petrified of being alone with two littles to see it all clearly.

Fortunately though, Tony adored you and had set the three of you up in a cushy upscale home just outside of the bustling city. There was a park on the corner, it was your only safe haven as you waited for the divorce to finalize, it was where you processed your grief over the entire situation, and realized this was always the way life would work out. One day the redhead would be there with you, scooting down the wide, curvy red slide with Carter, and Delilah giggling in her lap.

It was an inevitability of the rawest proportions.

You couldn't stop loving Natasha if you tried, which you halfheartedly did, and she loved you without the intent to stop—fate finally felt the need to intervene.

You felt her burdened gaze the moment you entered the party, and you were burning under the weight of it. There was a blip of fear that she would never forgive you for keeping her daughter from her, but you also figured she'd understand. If you were going to work as a couple, it had to be without Ryan's interference, and they were hellbent on making sure you weren't happy even though they were with Rochelle, the supermodel.

If you so much as contacted Natasha they were ready to claim this was always your plan. Not that they'd have much of a leg to stand on, but you weren't risking them winning so much as partial custody, simply because it was just to spite you. Ryan never wanted to be hands on, it seemed they more so liked the title of being a parent and spouse, but never the actual role. If they had won you know your son would only suffer.

Disappointed was an understatement, but you didn't hold pity for yourself because everyone warned you of their immaturity from the jump. Natasha warned you everyday leading up to the wedding, she pleaded with a hurt that broke your heart wide open, yet you were stubborn, and now you are right where you deserve.

The fear of a harsh reaction held you back from approaching her, hearing an 'I told you so' or a 'what did you expect to happen?' wasn't exactly something you could handle. Even if it was what you deserved, so, you decided to leave it to her. You wanted to give her the chance to take the first step in case she was only seeking to scream at you for breaking her heart and never returning any of her calls or texts, and oh yeah, for the icing on the fucked up cake you'd baked you would have to add keeping her child from her.

Natasha couldn't focus on anything but you since you had arrived though, she actively willed you to look up at her, but she soon realized you were purposefully ignoring meeting her gaze. The ill advised thought that even when single that you wouldn't want her around broke her spirit down into nothingness.

Was she really not good enough for you?

Who was she kidding? Of course she wasn't... You were clean of a harsh origin, with a compassionate aura that bled right into your ability to be an amazing mother. Natasha wanted kids, yours specifically, but with her cold upbringing she feared she would never be what they would need, and in turn she would let you down.

Natasha didn't get to linger in her sadness for long before Maria was nudging her shoulder. "For fucks sake Romanoff, could you at least pretend to be interested in my plights?" She was reminded of the riveting conversation she'd been engaged in moments prior with a raging Maria and an instigating Wanda. Her silly relationship problems with Danvers no longer interested her when she was faced with her very own problems rooted in an extended period of longing.

Natasha rolled her eyes, and adjusted her pants to better conceal the hard on she was suddenly sporting. You just looked too good, motherhood had only ever enhanced your beauty, her purest desires for you only surplussed after your son's birth. It pained her so that you'd lived like your beauty was lost due to a miracle, and it was that night that she showed you otherwise.

The night she gave actual life to her love...

Ryan had made the first distasteful comment, it was why you were at the compound that day after all. Using the free gym six months out from your son's birth, which was fine, but you were indeed overdoing it since you had a bad back, and it was Nat who stopped you.

"Y/N, you need to take it easy, you like just had a baby," she'd tried to help, but you glared at her with angry tears in your eyes. "It's fine Nat, I need to do this. I am literally in terrible shape, I am so ug—," you'd muttered in obvious frustration, but she didn't dare let you finish your sentence. She took you right there on the mat, then again in the showers, and finally she took you to her bed and gave you all of her love.

That wasn't the start of your sinful relations, but it was the beginning of the deep lines officially blurring. Where the love the two of you felt for the other was finally released through breathy moans, soft kisses and the heat of the moment filling of your barren womb.

Every time you didn't see the beauty in your body she did, and she reminded you so well... It was not a shock to you when you saw the test; more like a total relief.

Natasha obviously knew something happened, it changed everything for her, because you and her best friend, Carter, were no longer coming around. The redhead actually sobbed on his first birthday, and she still has all the gifts she bought for him in her closet.

Wanda followed her best friend's gaze to you, and she smiled sadly. The witch was the first person you came crying to over the news, and it hurt her heart to keep this secret from Nat, but she knew that today was the day it all changed. You were going to make it all right.

Your divorce was finalized after Tony's lawyer put Ryan in their place. The open marriage was their choice, you had proof that they pushed you into agreeing, so the judge deemed your daughter's paternity a natural consequence. Now that they lost, they moved outside of city limits with their younger lover, and you contently remained in the upper-scale house, the one that didn't burden you with memories.

"Go talk to her Nat," Wanda encouraged, "Take the chance, I promise you it'll at least be cathartic."

Natasha sighed, "She's better off without me."

The redhead kicked up a cloud of dust as she sent one last longing glance your way. Her heart stuttered at the sight. You'd moved, this time her eyes found you leaning back against a table. A soft look in your eye as you watched your giggling son, Carter, clumsily chase Morgan around the field. It'd been awhile since you've been back here so you were involved in a conversation.

The grey sundress you wore was perfectly hugging your curves, and the skirt of it was flowing with the light breeze, giving her a glimpse of the silky skin of your legs beneath. It was tastefully cut, but it still allowed her to see the curve of your swollen, sagging breasts.

Natasha's eyes were focused in on the way you sucked on your popsicle though. Her cock twitched in her boxers as she saw you hollow out your cheeks, her dick longing for the oh so familiar feeling of the gesture. You mindlessly wiped away the sticky mess of artificial juices with your fingers, and her eyes were locked on them, you lifted them to your lips to suck off the sticky mess and it reminded her of that time she'd shoved hers, covered in your shared arousals, down your throat. It was the most intimate moment she'd ever shared with another, and that made her resolve fall.

The redhead couldn't stand any of it anymore, not the ache in her chest, nor her boxers, so she rushed inside the compound, ignoring the awkward stares. The door that slammed afterwards caught your attention.

Tony shoved your arm. "Go after her Y/N!"

You stared down at the stroller, admiring the peace your daughters sleeping face brought as your nervous fingers fidgeted with the strap of the diaper bag. You felt nothing but guilt after a moment though when her little eyes fluttered open to reveal a sea of familiar green. You began to wonder if Natasha would be better off without you since all you seem capable of is hurting her. All she's ever done is pour her love into you, and you actually ghosted her—the perfect woman. The longer you thought it over, the sillier your reasons felt.

Tony invited you over for this barbecue to celebrate his retirement, but you weren't dumb enough to not know why he wanted you to come. Steve, and Natasha were also retiring, the notion that the redhead was giving up this life regardless of you made your skin crawl.

Was she retiring for you? Did she know you are divorced? You knew Tony blabbed a lot, so it wouldn't surprise you if that's how she had found out.

Or was it for herself? She'd earned the right and it was a bit narcissistic to think you played any part here.

Did she have plans to find the life she wanted with someone else since you were a coward? It would only serve you right, you knew you didn't deserve her.

Tony saw the turmoil in your eyes as you picked at the foam, he gently pulled your hands from the stroller, and nodded to the door with a stern expression. "No..."

"Y/N," he sighed, ready to fight you for being a coward, but then his face fell in offense as you spoke, "You are not exactly baby proof Stark." The man scoffed, "You can't be serious, I am a perfectly functional dad!"

You deadpanned, "You are the fun dad to Pep's productive. You have her while Pepper is at a meeting and Morgan's shirt is now on inside out, she's ate off everyone's plate and if my eyes aren't deceiving me, she has a contraption from your lab. My son better..."

Tony immediately took off and you giggled, enjoying the moment of peace just before your daughter began to cry. If only Nat would have waited a minute she'd have seen you pull the tiny redhead from the stroller. It was uncanny how similar to Natasha she was.

Infuriating was more like it really, you carried her for ten excruciatingly long months, and all she got was your hair texture, lip shape, and unfortunately—temper. Everything else was Nat, aside from the blend of her skin tone, it was a beautiful mix of you both.

"What's the matter lyubov'?" You coo'd and pulled the sniffling baby girl to your chest. Unaware of the presence of your former teammates behind you. Wanda beamed at the knowledge of you learning Russian for your daughters sake, she knew Nat would likely cry at the notion too, but Maria merely gasped.

"Oh my gosh, is that Romanoff's?!" Wanda elbowed the nosy woman, at this point she wondered if Maria being the second in command for Shield was a good idea with the way she loved to gossip and tease. "Mhm..."

Wanda's hand fell on your shoulder, you were never much for staying silent, so you simply humming gave way to your obvious anxiety. "She's only crying my dear, because she knows you have unfinished business to tend to." You turned to her with a teary gaze of your own and she used the pad of her thumb to wipe them away in comforting strokes. "Hand me my niece, and go fix things with Natasha dorogoy, it'll be okay."

Delilah instantly stopped crying, her wobbly head turned slightly as she recognized Wanda's voice. The two shared excited smiles, one adorable and gummy, and the other accompanied by the faintest of wrinkles to show a long life lived. Wanda's nose was scrunched as she regarded your daughter with pure elation, and you had no qualms leaving her behind with Wanda.

"I'm sorry," you whispered as you passed her off, and Wanda wrapped her arm around your waist to offer you a comforting embrace. "All is forgiven as long as you don't fumble this time. Tell her how you feel, and let her feel it all too, she'll understand and forgive."

You nodded, offering a nervous smile then left in a hurry to get to the woman you wanted to be with for an eternity, hopeful that she still wanted the same as you.

The way to Natasha's room was quick, your muscles remembering the route without any need for a refresher. The path now forever engrained into your heart as the safest one. You pondered knocking, but then you heard the most gut wrenching sobs and felt the urgent need to push the door right open. As you opened the door though you were met with a far different sight than you had anticipated.

The sobs were ones of pure sexual frustration.

"Oh fuck!" You'd gasped at the sound of her raspy voice, the gorgeous redhead was leaning her head against the glass of her vanity as she jerked herself off with a pair of red lace panties that you'd left behind.

Natasha watched you in terror, her stomach tied in a more dreadful knot now that overpowered the arousal she needed to release. Once the shock wore off you stepped in, expression neutral as you shut her door with your foot, then used your powers to lock it.

"Y-Y/N, I can explain," she stuttered as you were silently approaching her. "How about you just let me take over instead, yeah?" Natasha nodded, her mind in a trance of sorts as she allowed you to remove her hand and use your own. The strokes you gave were feather light, but just because it was you she was on edge.

Pre-cum dribbled onto your thumb, and you used it to lube up her cock, and make your hand have a slicker surface to increase speed. You felt your panties dampen the longer you stroked her pulsing shaft, eyes locked in on the way her mouth was hung open, and her moans were raspy, melodious gifts for your ears.

"Y/N," she gritted out your name as her cock twitched with an increased warning, but you abruptly let her shaft go instead, and she sobbed without shame.

Natasha was frustrated with you on so many levels, but this had her feeling embarrassed. The way that she hasn't been able to get off without a piece of you in over a year shameful. Then when she was finally about to climax, with the real thing, you took it from her...

Again—you just kept taking, and taking from her, and now she was unsure if she had anything left to give.

"We need to talk," she rasped angrily and you nodded, but then you dropped to your knees with a wink. "We do need to talk Natasha," you purred her sentiments against the sticky red tip of her cock, reworking her mind into a haze as you prepared to give her head.

"Shall we do it now then?" You asked teasingly, but with your mouth inches from her throbbing member she could only frantically shake her head. "Later," you hotly voiced for her, you kissed her tip then licked her essence up with a soft flick through the sensitive slit.

All Natasha offered was a delayed, husky, "Mmm," too engrossed by the exhilarating sensation of your warm tongue swirling around her shaft as you slowly lowered your head until the tip of your nose brushed against her fuzzy abdomen to say much of anything else.

This was exactly what she needed. You knew it was only a matter of time before you two would have to face the reality. But, for this brief moment in time, you wanted to use your mouth to pleasure her, to soften the blow if you will, as you gave a physical apology.

After proving to yourself that you could still take all of her you pulled back and let her slick dick go with a pop so that you could admire it. While keeping your eyes locked on hers you lowered so you could lick a slow stripe up from her balls, over the underside of her shaft, flicking over the pulsing veins; building her excitement way up until your lips finally wrapped back around her head to give her some overdo pleasure.

"Oh fuck, I've missed your perfect mouth," she cried out, her hand suddenly fell atop of your head and she used all of her strength to still your bobbing so that she could fuck her cock deep down your throat instead. It was never not uncomfortable to be gagged for you, but your dampening panties gave way to the enjoyment.

Natasha felt even hotter as your excess drool pooled at the base of her shaft and slowly dribbled onto her balls. It was like every one of her senses was heightening as she felt as her auburn pubes became matted and clung to her balls. You felt it too, as they swung with each deep thrust and slapped into your sweaty skin.

There was no way the moment could improve, or so she thought, because with a firm tug on her sack, and the hollowing of your cheeks as your throat contracted around her tip she was no longer in control, her release torn from her with a throaty scream that made your arousal increase tenfold, and stain the black carpet.

The familiar taste of her was enough to bring you to the edge of glory, coupled with the way she continued to fuck your throat without so much as a thought to your needs arousing and you found yourself painfully ready to bust. Her cum was inched down your throat with every continued thrust, and you moaned along happily as you continued to suck her dry, all the way up until her member fell flaccid in your mouth.

You were nearly there, your thighs rubbed together just right, but the redhead would be damned if you were to waste your cum on her carpet instead of her readied tongue. "There's no going back after this Y/N," she rasped against the shell of your ear as she pulled you to your feet while tucking her cock back into her briefs. "If I kiss you now, then you are mine for the claiming. Understood?" You hated so much that her glossed eyes shone with immense fear and hurt.

"Do it," you pleaded, a part of you hoping that what you are going to say later doesn't change her promise; you desperately wanted to be hers for good. "Please!"

Natasha gripped you by your hips and pushed you back onto the bed as her lips met yours. Her skilled hands unclasped your bra while her tongue slowly swirled around yours, tasting herself and silently vowing to never let you go a day without being filled by her in someway. All she wanted was to be yours, and make you hers in every sense, and that included breeding you, but not before she gave you the sloppiest head.

"God, you're so hot Y/N!" She practically screamed, the need for emphasis obvious. The way she stared down at your forever changed body with admiration made you want to cry. You gulped as her eyes trailed up to yours, she offered you a loving smile but her heart broke at the sight of your petrification. "Don't lie..."

Natasha was going to kill your ex. One final mark...

"Oh my beautiful girl," she sighed, her hot breath brushed over your slick mound and she admired how your body twitched and arched at the pleasure just a breeze gives to your cunt. She placed a gentle kiss to your clit, but kept moving up instead so she could kiss the stripes that adorned the plush skin of your belly.

"You are the hottest woman around detka," she admitted without any waver in her voice, her nose nudged against the soft skin of your stomach as she wordlessly continued to admire your body and the sacrifice you have made twice now. "I can't wait to etch more of these lines, to stake my claim to your womb."

You whimpered, but something about the sound wasn't rooted in pleasure, so she came back up to hover your face. "What's wrong detka, am I moving too fast?"

You smiled sadly, and shook your head, "No, it's just.. I-I," you couldn't help but to stutter now, "The claim is already yours Natasha, and it always should've been."

You don't regret Carter, how could you? In spite of all the turmoil surrounding him, he was a lovely toddler. With a natural curiosity to keep him fun, but a cautious approach that kept him safe from the lingering dangers of the world. Your son was the definition of perfect, and was never regretted, you merely rebuke Ryan.

"How so?" Natasha challenged, and you gulped, "We divorced because Delilah is yours Nat, our daughter."

"Yeah," she sighed with a sad smile, "But this time I'll be around to help as your body changes, to take care of you as you deserve while carrying my love around."

It stunned you to see nothing but love and solace behind her eyes, she wasn't angry, she was visibly relieved. Which meant this wasn't exactly news to her.

"You knew?" She nodded, and you felt your throat go dry; of course she did, Natasha wasn't regarded as a top tier spy for nothing. You frantically moved to defend your decisions, "I-I wanted to tell you Natty, but I was so scared." Natasha kissed your trembling lips tenderly in an attempt to cut off your anxiety, and for a perfect moment there was nothing but peace.

"I understand," she eventually whispered as she parted from the kiss, "You couldn't be sure of your feelings, you were only six months postpartum when we made her." Her, Delilah, Natasha's precious mini me that she'd yet to meet and the product of a destined love.

"No," you insisted, "Please do understand that I was never confused about my love for you. Every time we made love that ring would burn on my finger like the devil himself possessed it, because the greatest sin I've ever lived was pretending not to be in love with you."

You watched her eyes narrow in confusion and sighed resignedly. "You deserved someone better, I knew I wasn't enough for you. You're a model with a heart of gold, and I'm just a—." You were both momentarily stunned as her hand made contact with your cheek. The both of you blinked back your shock, and after she saw you were okay her eyes completely darkened. "I'm going to kill them Y/N, they deserve despair for ever making you question even an ounce of your beauty."

"Natty no," you pleaded for Carter's sake, "I mean yeah, Ryan wasn't good, but they were a bad I deserved," you saw the way her eyes narrowed and your speech flinched, "I-I am trying to say that you were too good."

"Me?" She scoffed with a twist of pure disgust, "How could I ever be too good for you?! Y/N, you are —."

"You're so beautiful Natasha," you sighed, cutting her off, "I don't even mean your looks, I am appreciative for them, sure, but it's your heart that I adore."

You couldn't fight the smile that took over your face, the veins of her cock pulsed through the thin material of her boxers, felt pulsing against your thigh along to the beat of her racing heart and you knew you'd said the right thing. Natasha's eyes were welling with tears as she leaned in to kiss you, it was tender and not at all foreign, but it was a feeling you'd nonetheless missed.

She always regarded your body with love, even in the more rougher moments, when she'd abuse your body like you'd beg her to, she would whisper her hearts reassuring thoughts. Deep down she always knew you asked for what you thought you deserved, so she gave you it, but not without what she knew you needed too.

"You're so good Y/N," she practically pleaded, her eyes shed hopeful tears that dripped down your temples, "I'm blessed to be in this position with you right now, the mother of my kids," she proudly said, her subtle claim to your son made you sniffle. "You deserve to be loved just like you love everyone else; without limit."

"Natasha," you whimpered, and she pecked your lips. "You're my wildest dream come true; a sight for sore eyes, an absolutely amazing mother, with the physique of a goddess. You are a blessing worthy of worshipping, I can swear to you that there's no one more perfect for me than you detka, you are the love of my life."

"Fuck," you scoffed over a sob, "So damn cheesy..."

Natasha hummed softly, "Can you feel it?" and offered you an amused smile. You blinked up in a daze as she brushed your knuckles over her lips, and you felt her dick twitch against your skin as she husked, "My love."

Your body took her words as a sign to start working towards pleasing her, you were desperate to feel it wholly. Natasha threw an arm around your waist as her back arched, securing you to her as she thrusted up involuntarily and reached a prime point of pleasure that made you both scream, yours shrill and hers a rasp. The way her throbbing tip was rubbed raw as her briefs smeared your arousal around your clit had you both already breathless, it took everything in her not to enter you then. If not for her desperation to taste what she'd been missing she would've given in instantly.

"Natty please," you tried, but ultimately failed, her raspy voice denied your pleasure, "Not yet, I need to return the favor first, I miss having your taste on my tongue and smelling you on my lips hours later."

It infuriated your cunt, who's hollowed walls clenched with need, but in the same breath her tone turned you on beyond belief, to not only feel, but to hear just how affected she was by her lusty desires centered around eating you out alone had your legs naturally spreading.

"There's my good girl," she praised against the plushness of your thigh, her tongue laid flat as she slowly licked up the essence coating your skin on a scandalous route to the grand prize, your oozing core.

Or better known to her as paradise.

After teasing you enough, with abrasive nibbles and her tongues follow up soothing caresses she felt it was about time to give you exactly what you both needed. Her lips twitched as she purposefully breathed your arousal in, and you choked in contrast when she lunged forward and began to eat your puffy pussy out.

There was no more gentle, loving Natasha; her eyes blackened, the carnality shown she was nothing short of feral, the filthy moans vibrating you into an orgasm as her tongue lapped at your core proof enough. But, for the sake of imagination, picture as if she was actually outside right now. Forced to participate in the watermelon eating contest, her hands tied behind her back and her face hovered over the three thick pieces on her plate; she'd beat both Sam and Bucky in record time, twelve seconds—four per slice, and still have enough time to make you scream around the corner, pinned to a wall while the boys struggled to focus.

The Falcon's wings would dip when informed it took him thirty seconds, but not as disappointed as The Winter Soldier who took thirty five. Fortunately for the boys, Natasha was buried in a more fitting place, winning at life as the soldiers tied, but lost to Thor who did it in ten, followed by a burp and plea for more.

You also endlessly pleaded for more, then rather suddenly for less, but inevitably you went unheard as your thighs deprived Natasha of both air and the ability to hear. Yet she kept going, making you scream out her name seconds later, and cream on her tongue.

Natasha felt your thighs relax, and with a firm grip she separated them, digging her nails into the skin as she took in an exaggerated gulp of air. You mewled and threw your head back to avoid her scarily arousing gaze. The both of you knew she was trained to hold her breath for extended periods of time, but it was hot nonetheless for you to witness, and her to pretend.

Truthfully, you internally, always made her breathless, so she was simply emoting. After a moment of you both coming back to your senses Natasha groaned, her red tip brushed against the sticky fabric of her boxers and she was disappointed she came outside of you.

"You always do this Y/N," she groaned, "I can't even help but to fuck the air to the sounds of your cries."

"Sorry," you whimpered, Natasha watched with a smirk as your entire body shivered. Then her face dropped as she realized something, "It just wasted our greatest chance at making a baby Y/N! The first round is the most potent, so now I'll have to fill you twice."

"Delilah is only six months," you panted, your words of concern not matching the clear state of your arousal. "Yeah detka; that means we are, quite frankly, behind."

"Behind?" Natasha nodded as she avoided your gaze to focus down on the mess of her boxers as she took them off and flipped them inside out. "Detka, we don't waste, so finish your treat before you get answers." There was no hesitation as you sucked the cotton fabric clean of her, moaning and soaking through the pair.

"You want this, don't you?" Natasha asked, her confidence dimmed as the fear of rejection emerged. You spit out her boxers and shrieked, "of course I do!"

Natasha hummed, "Then yes my love," as she gently stroked your cheek before pecking it. "We're gravely behind, so let's just call this an efficient way to catch up. I'll overload you on my love, and swimmers."

"Okay," your voice absolutely breathless as you allowed her to pull you up off the bed, having accepted the hand she'd extended out just so she could pull you close and kiss you until your were both breathless.

When you were distracted enough she spun you around and pressed you into the tacky wall with her muscular frame, her hot breaths fanned across your skin and your clit pulsed. She drove you wild, evidence of that being the way that your slick dribbled down the sides of her length that curved beneath your cunt.

"Are you ready to be bred?" Her fingers fondly traced over the marks on your hips. "To be full of my pulsing cock as it busts? I promise I'll leave you beyond full."

"Mommy please," you whined and pushed back with all your might to curve her dick up and into you. "Oh, you know what that does to me detka; you're in for it now."

Natasha pressed her body up, and rocked her hips until she'd smeared enough of your slick onto her length. It was a precautionary measure to ensure you minimal pain as she never failed to stretch you to your limits.

"Fuck mommy, you're so big," you mewled as her tip barely pressed into you, the redhead chuckled and slammed her hips forward, swiftly bottoming out and causing your body to lurch painfully into the wall. "Mmm, mommy loves the way you feel wrapped so tightly around me detka, suffocating my dick like the filthy whore that you are." She sloppily pecked your cheek. "This is right where you belong."

"Wanna stay like this forever," you sighed contentedly as your heated cheek brushed against the chilled wall with each shallow thrust she rewarded you with.

"That can be arranged," she rasped into your ear as her hips began to move a bit more. "Nobody else will ever get to see you like this again," she added, her growl and grip possessive as she picked up a pace you never could keep up with. Enhanced as you were with powers, the strength and stamina were all more Natasha's forte; fucking you limp a cherished specialty of hers.

"Nobody has seen me since you," you cleared the air in a dizzy slur, and felt as she prematurely shot into you, but Natasha recovered her composure fast and continued to fuck you while holding back her orgasm.

"Because this pussy is mine," she grunted, her hips now swirled with each thrust as she sought out your sole pleasure. Hearing that you were celibate in her absence a major ego boost as she rammed her fat cock into your spongey sensitivity with each precise jolt of her body into yours and pulled out those glorious supporting moans of a job well done. "Say it!"

"All yours mommy," you cried out sharply as her finger rapidly swirled against your swollen bud. "Damn straight," she groaned as she twitched and spasmed against your quivering walls. "Fucking hell, I'm going to fill you to the brim," she groaned against the base of your neck as she hastily pounded your body up against the wall.

Her hands gripped the fluff of your hips and fully drove her pelvis into your backside so that she could push you over the edge. "I'm so close mommy, please." Natasha obliged your pleas with a swift plan, her tongue teasingly licked the shell of your right ear, "Go on then sweetheart," her free hand moved to grope your breasts that leaked nonstop with warm milk while the other hand continued to stimulate your needy clit. "Let go and drench my cock; make a mess of me."

"Oh, oh, oh shit," you shrieked as you felt the coil within you snap into jagged pieces of pleasure. Nicking every inch of your body—setting your nerves ablaze. Pins and needles lasted for a perceivable eternity as you swore and soon enough you moaned a chorus as she fucked you through the toe curling orgasm.

Natasha shifted your bodies with ease, her cock still driving into your needy hole as she carried you over to lay your front down on the bed, she kept shallowly thrusting, but her strained cock managed to hold out. Even though she wanted to stay true to her words, she continued to hold back her own release for you.

"Your moans are my favorite," she whispered amusedly against the skin of your shoulder before placing a gentle kiss there, and thrusting in deep, pulling sultry cries from the depths of your needy soul. Only to then suddenly pull out so that she could admire your bare backside while calming her need to breed you.

Her hands groped the skin of your sore ass, you whined as her cold fingers trailed over the already bruising skin, tempering the sting from her hips prior assaults. "Daddy please," you whimpered, and she dug her nails into the skin. "Stop being so impatient detka, we're making up for lost time here—be a good girl, and don't rush the process."

"Sorry mommy," you whimpered, and though she couldn't see you she smiled at the remembrance of your usual pout. "There you go," she praised, "Always so good for me baby, I promise that I will never tire of having you like this," she paused, lining her tip back up with your dripping entrance, "Spread wide open as your pretty, puffy cunt devours my shaft."

That was the only warning you had before she slid her thickness back inside of you and began to give you the type of strokes that made your spine shiver; slow, and deep enough that you could feel your guts shifting.

You whimpered softly, "Fuck, I'm already so close again..." Natasha chuckled, "I know, I can feel you trembling detka, fuck, your walls are squeezing me so tight." The redhead stilled for just a second, much to your bodies dismay too, you pressed your ass back and your cunt somehow sucked her in even deeper. It took everything in her not to bust, but she wanted to be truly levelheaded about this before she lost control.

Two kids under two was no easy feat, to be ready for a third required a sure mentality. It was your body after all, talk all she wanted of her possession of your body, that was only in part true. You were in charge of what she did next, whether that be to cum inside you, or to release her potent load onto your back. Either way she'd be satisfied, and all she really wanted was you to be happy with the overall outcome too.

"Want to carry my baby again detka?" Her lips gently pressed into the skin of your shoulder, the moment was far less sexually charged, she gently marked your surrounding skin up while patiently waiting for your eventual, labored response. "Please..."

"Are you sure?" Natasha doubled down, her cock twitched in anticipation for your final reply. "Yes," you were breathless, "Please, just breed me already! Wanna be full of you." Natasha hummed, then picked her pace up, she still reached your greatest depths, but this time she went much faster—leaving you to moan nonstop.

"Gonna fill you until I'm sure I've succeeded," she rasped confidently after a moment of nothing other than listening to skin slapping, and juices sloshing. "Then I'll fuck you from the back every month and feel the way your body changes for our fetus," she placed a sloppy wet kiss behind the shell of your ear and your body shuddered as your walls clamped down on her thick shaft. "Fuck, I heard that pregnancy makes you even hornier detka. Maybe I'll hit it every night. I'll destroy this pussy before the birth ever could."

"Fucking hell Natasha," you shrieked, but it faded into a low pitched moan as the tip of her spurting cock hit that glorious spot deep within that blurred your vision. It happened just as she pressed her wandering hand against the bulge pushing your stretched skin back out.

Your vision blacked out, your cheek pressed into the sheets harshly as the redhead continued to thrust against your pussy's tight resistance to prolong your orgasms and to also allow your walls to effectively milk her cock, ensuring maximum breeding efficiency.

When even she couldn't take anymore she fell into your backside a panting mess. "You did so good," she reassured you, her hands tight grip on your hips loosened so she could stroke your sides instead as you both took a moment to regulated your systems.

After a few moments Natasha became restless, her stamina bouncing back fast as she rose up and slid out of you, leaving behind a sticky mess of your arousals as she did; her clean sheets never stood a chance. It was a moment of total joy for her to watch as your pussy contracted, sensitive walls pushing the excess of her cum from you a sight worthy of marveling. The way it bubbled and popped was absolutely mesmerizing...

There was hardly a lull in her cocks erectness, she stood there still slightly out of breath, with her sticky member inches away from her rock-hard abs in a sweaty glow. Tension held her body captive as she picked her next move. "I want you to ride me detka, bounce on mommy's cock for a bit, suck me dry."

"Mommy, I..." you sighed, "I'm tired."

"I know honey," she coo'd as she sat down on the edge of the mattress, her nimble fingers wrapped around your thigh and teasingly squeezed. "I'll do all the work." With the promise of the needed assistance you slowly shuffled over to her, and threw your leg over her spread set, opening your slick lips back up and allowing her to slip herself back in. You moaned into her shoulder as you felt your mixed slicks gush as your core met the base of her cock at a new, delightful angle.

"Mommy," you called shyly, as if you weren't already in the midst of a raw fucking, your glossy eyes fell to her lips, and she shook her head in amusement as she chuckled, "Come on detka, take what you need."

The way you kissed her every single time was how she knew your feelings for her went beyond that of lust. It was always soft, and sensual with a sense of urgency. Sometimes she felt like you were out to devour her entirely, and if you were, she wouldn't even mind. To be taken out by your lips on hers sounds heavenly.

"Oh god," you whimpered, overrun by a pleasure only she could offer you, her hands on your hips guided you, but she let you control the kiss. "I need you all the time Natty," you panted harshly against her lips as you only briefly disconnected them. "I can't get off without you. Not even listening to your old voicemails work."

"You'll never need to again detka," she growled, hands possessive as they pulled your body back down by your hips to meet her desperate thrusts, "I'll fill you up every day if that's what you need—mhm, yeah; this pussy of mine will never have time to miss me."

"Please..." you begged as your lips left hers so your head could fly back in pleasure, and your hands clawed at her neck, leaving behind angry red lines. Natasha's breath stalled, the grip she had on your hips tightened, then she dropped you mid lift because of how dizzy she felt with the way that your walls squeezed her shaft every damn time it left your warmth. Your face fell to her neck, lips latching onto her pulse point, and with you working to claim her too she busted. The warmth of her seed splattered against your walls, again, the stream nudged your g-spot with a firm flow, joined by the harsh slam of her tip; it was all too much, and in some strange way it never felt like it was enough.

Arousal gushed all over the redheads skin, and slowly dripped down the oak bed frame, polishing it anew.

The way your combined releases ran down from her abdomen and saturated the skin of her balls made her body tense as she produced even more of her seed. Natasha hadn't stopped thrusting, in fact she flipped your body onto the bed, and sent you into another wave of pleasure, and your mind to another dimension.

It had been exactly fourteen months, and ten days since she last felt as her cock rearranged your insides so she wasn't ready to stop. Natasha panted against your neck as she kept fucking your unconscious body.

Eventually she fell semi-flaccid, and her breath was so erratic she had to stop her body from continuing to ram into you. Even if the urge persisted, you were more than fucked out, so she was mostly satisfied. There's no way her diet super soldier swimmers weren't going to fulfill their duty. If the redhead is lucky she'll get a two for one reward. She can't wait to be waiting on you hand and foot. There'd never be a night you went to bed hungry, or uncomfortable.

You'll carry her kids, and she'll carry the rest of the burdens that come with life. The redhead admired your still face, your eyes tracked behind your lids, and your even, cool breaths fanned across her warm face. This was what she believed bliss to be at its core.

Natasha gently slid right on out of you, but it didn't last long before she was sheathed within your velvety warmth again. After you awoke she'd kissed you tenderly, and as her tongue explored your mouth you reached down to pump your hand up and down her cock, it was loud and wet, your hand growing sticky with your mixed arousals and her body shuddered.

"Inside," you breathed in a fit against her lips, she chuckled in disbelief at your needy behavior, and happily guided her cock to your entrance and watched as your walls sucked her in and your wetness gushed all over. "Oh fucking hell detka," Natasha groaned as her fingers flexed against your hips, "Eto ray."

(this is heaven)

"Mhm," you softly hummed your agreement, your hazy eyes fluttered open a moment later as you cheekily smirked up at her. "That dick game is god tier Natty."

Natasha rolled her eyes, then chuckled against your skin as she happily burrowed her face into your neck. All of the lust had faded, for now, and all that was left was to soak in the fact that this was finally happening.

Nothing could ruin the moment, well, almost nothing.

Your phone dinged about half an hour later, and if not for being a mom you'd have ignored it. You lazily lifted it from her nightstand. A soft giggle left you as Natasha grumbled in annoyance at the shift of her cock that was still inside of you. The woman turned her head on your chest and peered at your phone suspiciously only to see that it was lit up with an innocent text from Wanda.

Shall I take the kids back to mine ? 👀♥️

"Tell her to wait," Natasha pleaded, then in a rush she jumped up, leaving you hollow and raced into the shower. You did as told, then followed behind, and the two of you tenderly, yet speedily cleaned the other off.

Wanda sat in the living area with Carter asleep on her bump, and with Delilah laying on the play mat below her, happily kicking her feet. You quietly moved to sit beside your best friend, and watched with a smile as the love of your life cautiously approached your child.

"Hello there moya malen'kaya lyubov'," she was so soft spoken as she spoke to Delilah that you almost didn't recognize her voice. Tears brimmed your lids as you watched the way that your daughter lit up at hearing the spoken Russian, of course Natasha noticed too.

(My littlest love)

"Detka," she whimpered, and looked up into your eyes "Do you speak to her in Russian?" You nodded and sent her a playful wink to cover your emotional gaze. Natasha however turned stone cold serious as she said: "YA sobirayus' sdelat' tebya svoyey zhenoy."

(I'm going to make you my wife)

Wanda giggled from beside you when you frowned and looked to your love with a pout. Natasha smirked this time and winked back, "We'll work on your Russian, then we'll return to that phrase when you understand."

"Oh," you chuckled softly, "I understood, I just expected a first date, then the fat diamond ring."

You turned away from your blushing lover, and scooped your son off of Wanda. "Thank you for the offer, but I'm not leaving you with my two gremlins when you already have two growing inside of you." Wanda went to protest but you leaned into her ear to whisper: "The walls at my place are soundproof..."

You walked away with a proud smirk as the women sat there with collective reddened cheeks. Wanda left a moment later with a kiss left on your daughter's cheek, and a rush in her wobble. Natasha shook her head and chuckled softly at your daughter, "Tvoyu mat' ne zrya prozvali 'Ubiytsey'" Delilah tilted her head, and Natasha was perturbed by Wanda's obvious influence.

(Your mother wasn't nicknamed "Killer" for nothing)

"Detka, where are we going?" She asked as she trailed behind you with a curious infant sat atop of her hip. "Home," you replied flatly then turned around with a contradicting grin. "You ready to shack up darling?"

"I don't know," Natasha teased, "that's a lot of responsibility to place upon a free flyer like me."

"Then I guess," you were cut off by a kiss that left you speechless, yet slightly humming as you grinned against her plush lips. "You've been tamed by a," she cut you off again with a peck and answer: "Beautiful, perfect in all of the ways that count, sexy ass milf."

"You're such a hopeless romantic," you teased, and she matched your grin with a suave lift of the mood. "I'm never hopeless with you Y/N, just soft, and absolutely, undeniably in love with you."

"Jeez Nat, keeping charming my pants off and we'll literally end up with a baseball team." The redhead chuckled, "A team of tiny assassins and witches," then sidled up to you, and slid her free hand into yours in perfect rhythm. "You're insane." Natasha swung your connected hands and grinned up like a devil. "I sure am crazy for you, so yeah, I'll claim it." She winked slowly and snorted when you glared, it was entirely heatless and she knew it.

Then to make the moment all the more special she leaned forward and smiled at your son. "Hi there sweet boy, I'm," she went to introduce herself but the nearly two year old interrupted her excitedly, "Mama!" Natasha was stunned and you elated to see it was a good thing, her eyes lit up with so much love, and she dropped your hand so that she could snatch Carter right from you. "Hey! You already have a baby!"

"You hush," she hissed playfully, then you saw her eyes glisten as he nuzzled right into her neck like she was safe and she emotionally whispered to him in Russian: "Moy ideal'nyy syn, ya budu lyubit' tebya bez ogranicheniy."

(My perfect son, I will love you without limits)

"Moya dragotsennaya Dalila, ya nauchu tebya vsem svoim znamenitym dvizheniyam," she placed a gentle kiss to her face. Then her gaze turned to you as you scoffed, "Not happening if she takes after me for once."

(my precious delilah, I will teach you all my famous moves)

"Don't worry, I didn't forget about you," she turned around and came to a sudden stop. Forcing you to nearly bump into her, but she took a smooth step back with a stupidly hot smirk on her face. "I could never." Natasha leaned in and kissed your lips with a precise tenderness. "I love you, and I plan to for the rest of my life," you blurted, stealing her thunder but she loved the sudden declaration of yours more than her own repeated ones. "I'm so glad you're the one who almost got away, because I'd forever be lost without you."

"My rodstvennyye dushi," she whispered as she pecked your tear tracked cheeks, "Ty byl moyey sud'boy," this time she was pressed against your lips. Then she pulled back with a smile as she continued to speak as her lips met her sleeping babies faces. "Oni nashe naslediye." Then she perfectly crouched without jostling the kids to kiss the skin of your tummy. "For good luck."

(We are soulmates / You were my destiny / Them our legacy)

——

[lemmesayimyourbiggestfan]

if you love me, prove it

regulus black x fem!reader

when Regulus Black proves to be emotionally unavailable, Y/N decides it's better to end their relationship. In order to get her back, Regulus has to face his own trauma and open up his heart to her.

warnings: angst

word count: 1,9k

requests are open!

When Regulus saw you for the first time, he was smitten. Every time he saw your beautiful hair, heard your perfect voice.... He couldn't even stand to be in your presence, because your perfume smelt like heaven to him. In his dreams, that used to be haunted only by the traumas of his childhood, now, there you were, haunting him in a whole new manner. It scared him, yes. But for you... in that moment he first saw you, he decided he would do anything for you and he hated himself for having this weakness.

What a surprise it was to both of you when you asked him out in your fifth year. Your first date spent strolling around Hogsmeade wasn't the exact definition of a date - Regulus just couldn't figure out how to actually let you know that he liked you. All he knew about love was his now ruined bond with his brother Sirius and that all too twisted relationship with his own mother. He could express it in bits here and there; like when he helped Sirius heal his wounds when they were younger. But never anything more.

And when you were smiling at him so sweetly, he even felt anxious to return the smile. What was wrong with him? He spent years pining after you and when he was actually close to having you, he felt sick with worry.

"Why do you like me?" he asked you on that first date. Has he ever asked someone such a genuine question?

You gave him a perplexed look he couldn't decipher and one corner of your lips rose into a crooked grin. "Is there any reason why I shouldn't?"

He thought about it, then. Yes, he wanted to tell you. Yes, I'm a coward. I'm a horrible person. But insted he just smiled and shook his head. "Nevermind."

And it worked for you for a while.

When you spent time together, just you two without anyone else nearby, Regulus tried to let you in and you were patient and proud of any progress you made in strengthening your whatever-kind-of bond-it-was. You told him of your childhood, of your siblings and your favourite memories from holidays spent oversees. And your openness ispired him so much - if you could, why couldn't he?

So he told you of his own childhood, of his abusive relationship with his parents, how they acted towards his pigheaded brother. How he was the one who helped patch Sirius up every single time and how he always hid his brother’s muggle stuff so their parents wouldn’t be even more angry.

Regulus was very vulnerable in the moments afterwards and very aware of the fact. But the tears welling in your eyes weakened him way more. But what could he do? He just sat there. There were no wounds to patch up. And apparently, that's all he knew how to do.

"I love you." you cried into his shoulder and he pulled you close. Was he doing this right? The last thing he wanted was to hurt you.

But then the words actually reached him. For the first time in his life, he finally had those three little words aimed at him. All his life, all he ever wanted was to be loved and here it was, this precious little moment with the girl of his dreams being so vulnerable with him that his heart ached. The least he could do was do the same for you.

"I love you." he said and gently lifted your chin and kissed you on the lips. The kiss tasted sweet but salty from your tears.

"I see your worth, Regulus." your whispered into the kiss.

And he was, for the first time ever, home.

...

For a while you two were happy. For a while, you put up with being just his "friend" because Regulus insisted on keeping your relationship quiet. In private, you were everything to each other, but when in public, Regulus couldn't even look at you.

At first, you found it so romantic. Every time you were alone, you were so excited to hold him close. When you walked by him in the hallways, you could only admire him but that was enough. But was it really? None of your friends could know. And especially Sirius, with whom you sat at every meal. As far as you knew, noone had any suspicions, but sometimes you wished they did just so you could be cornered and get this secret off of your chest.

But you could live with it. What you couldn’t live with, though, were the secrets that Regulus kept from you since Christmas 2 months ago. Yes, you understood that spending time with his family wasn’t exactly something ejoyable for him, but that he kept it from you was killing you. You tried to ask but his dry answers – also obvious lies - were useless. Maybe that was the worst part – the lying that he was fine and the: “everything is okay“s.

And when you finally confronted him about it, Regulus just looked like he didn’t know what to say.

“Why are you lying to me, Reg?�� you whispered, staring into his dark eyes as if they could give you the answer.

“Y/N…“ he sighed and tried to reach for your hand. You put it inside your pocket instead and hurt flashed across his features.

“Stop it. I thought we were better than this. 8 months, Reg. 8 months we spent building that bridge of trust between us and you still shy away.“

He sighed, turned his face away from your searching gaze and ran his fingers through his dark wavy hair.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, Y/N. I’m just trying to keep you safe and unhurt-“

“But you are the one hurting me,“ your voice broke. “Your lies hurt me, the secrecy hurts me. Are you ashamed of me, is that it?“

“No! Of course not! I love you! What more could you possibly want? I gave you my heart, isn’t that enough?“ He looked as if he wanted to grab your shoulders and shake you until you understood his point.

“Not when you gave it to me in a locked chest and didn’t bother to give me the keys.“

“Y/N-“ he said desperately, searching for any signs of affection in your eyes. But you remained resolute.

“Sometimes, love isn’t enough, Reg.“ you said softly, as if explaining something to a toddler. “You’ve been subconciously sabotaging our relationship while calling it “keeping me safe“. Either I get all of you, or none of you, but I won’t continue playing the fool who is glad for any scraps of love you can provide. If you love me, prove it.“ you gave him a sad smile and tears shone in your eyes. “Come back when you’re ready to let me in.“

With that, you left him standing with one arm outstretched, as if with that move alone he could stop the time.

…

“Sooooo….“ Sirius said and finished his glass of butterbeer. “You and Y/N no longer a thing?“

Regulus froze. Repairing his relationship with his brother was the first thing that came to his mind that could help him become a better person. But at that moment, he was rethinking his decision.

“What?“

“You know,“ Sirius mumbled nonchalantly, “that girl of yours with whom you’ve been with like, hmm, for like over half a year? Something like that?“

“How do you know about that?“ Regulus asked sharply.

“Oh, little Reggie,“ Sirius sighed pitifully. “Everyone knows. I mean, knew. Even, like, McGonagall and Dumbledore.“

Everyone knew. Was he so blind to see it the whole time? He tried so hard to keep you safe, from people knowing that you were the one weakness that could kill him. And, as it turns out, everyone knew.

Regulus put his head in his hands and started crying.

…

The day before the beginning of the summer break, Regulus finally aproached you. To say you spent every day since your breakup waiting for him was an understatement.

“Heyy,“ he said nervously when you two met in the middle of a hallway. You smiled at him warmly.

He took you by the elbow and tugged you near the windows so you wouldn’t get in the way of the other students.

“I just- look, I know I messed up, but ever since, I’ve been trying to-“

“I know,“ you said softly. His nervous gaze moved from his shoes to your eyes. He raised one eyebrow imploringly.

“Sirius told me you’ve been keeping in touch.“

“Oh.“

“And he also told me what happened during the Christmas break; how he ran away from home and left you there. I’m sorry I didn’t understand why you didn’t want to talk about it-“

“No, I’m sorry that I lied about it.“

You two were silent for a while before you both started smiling.

“Oh, I nearly forgot. I wrote a letter for you.” Regulus blushed shily and fumbled for a bit before he took a letter from his backpack.

“You, Regulus Black, wrote me a letter?” you raised an eyebrow in surprise and Regulus just raised his shoulders uncomfortably. “I’m just joking, Reg. Thank you, that’s very thoughtful of you.”

Your eyes met again and now you were both blushing.

“So…” he started but couldn’t bring himself to say anything else.

“So I will read it on the train and when we arrive in London I will find you and say my goodbye.”

“Yeah, of course.”

It was time to get to the carriages so you stood on your toes and gave Regulus a soft kiss on the cheek before leaving him standing there like a statue. On the way to Hogsmeade, you couldn’t wipe the smile off of your face.

…

When you were sure you were left alone in your train cabin, you took the crumpled letter from your pocket and opened it. You smiled at Regulus’ neat handwriting.

My Y/N,

When I first saw you, I knew. I just did. And I’ve been hating myself for having that one and only weakness – you. My mother always told me that we cannot afford weaknesses. But what I didn’t get until a few weeks ago is that loving someone doesn’t make me vulnerable but stronger in some ways. It was just hard for me to understand the fundamentals of a relationship itself – I always appreciated your love but never actually accepted it, because I didn’t think I was worthy of you or your love. You gave me your heart so willingly and here I am, finally, offering mine on a golden platter, all of it – the pain and love and hate and happiness. And I hope that just once, all I am is enough.

Yours, Reg

You stared and stared at that perfect handwriting. And when the train stopped in King’s Cross station, you held the letter in your fist and ran out of the train, searching for that familiar face you loved.

Regulus was already anxiously waiting.

“Oh yes, all you are is enough for me.” You laughed and hugged him tightly and Regulus leaned his face in the crook of your neck.

“Will you introduce me to your parents?” was the only thing he said and there was a new spark in those beautiful eyes.

[miyacults]

begging on my hands and knees for a sequel to the daddy gojo fic but w sugu please please please

a/n: my dear nonnie this is less than u actually deserve but i hope it fuels the stsg daddy agenda im pushing here.

violet, blue, green, red to keep me out… i win.

( ft. suguru geto. )

Suguru’s nowhere near salvation—soul too damned to expect something else—yet his heart aches, breaks, and cries blood at the mere thought of not deserving you. He might have made a path down the cursed side of being a Sorcerer with Satoru next to him, making the best of his efforts on keeping you away from that devilish facade of his you haven’t seen yet, and although he’s the one to blame when you finally do, well—he can’t hide anymore. That’s the price that comes with being one of the Strongests.

< part one.

wc: 3k (proofread? probably not)

cw: [ 18+ explicit content minors dni ] technically this is part two of a gojo fic (linked above) but can be read individually so no biggie. fem reader (female bodied). teacher!suguru meaning he did not deflect here okay, we’re living a happy life away from the pain. first one was gojo action so this is for geto action only but poly satosugu is clearly implied, that’s the whole point of this basically hehe. daddy kink and daddy dynamic so be very careful! minimal to no prep. unprotected sex. p in v sex. mentions of blood. mentions of death. these two pamper reader too much so reader’s a little spoiled but in the good way. geto is a sweet pretty much. if i forgot anything to put here lemme know. enjoy! <3~

From time to time, Suguru wonders about his soul in genuine distress. Perhaps out of guilt and worry and only in moments like these—well past midnight with bloodied nuckles and heavy footsteps echoing through thin walls, dragging himself up the stairs of the palatial home he and Satoru bought together, with nothing but a familiar sense of anxiety building in his chest. But it’s not like his personal cup of remorse is filled with all the haunting thoughts of the bad things he has done and seen in his life thanks to his sinister line of work, or as if such awful thoughts could actually pull some strings within his untainted heart—because that’s far from being the case.

It’s just—it’s just who he is. The blessing and the curse of being a Sorcerer, of swallowing venom as a whole to save the lives of those who live an ignorant bliss.

White marble stains in scarlet as he approaches his bedroom in silence, mind reflecting on the fact that things should be good now, that everything’s fine and danger has been erased. Any man in love would have handled the situation in the exact way he did, wouldn’t they? He wonders about this, too, quite frequently, and he hates to admit that the question lingers on his brain for far too long for his own liking. It makes him dread the fact that he’s not doing a good job in taking care of you.

Yet it doesn’t matter, as Suguru already knows the answer better than anyone—and he doesn’t qualify much for the kind-hearted-person term (or so he’s been thinking since the last blossom of his youth and the tragedies that showered his naive teen years catches him off guard). But he really doesn’t want to either, because then that would mean that he can’t successfully protect the thing he cares about the most in the world. And he can’t let that happen.

But the look Satoru shoots at him as soon as he opens his bedroom door and finds him sitting comfortably in the wide couch—awaiting his return, as usual—has him breathing correctly again, mind turning back from unwanted ideas that bother him to no end.

“You got busy tonight, huh,” Satoru murmurs quietly, head lolling to the side while scanning his best friend’s tired figure.

“I took care of the scum,”

“And didn’t invite?”

Suguru’s lips turn into a devious smirk, heavy body finally falling between the many soft pillows his large bed has.

“Princess was so upset, needed you to stay by her side,” he resolves quite calmly, dried blood forcing a horrid contrast to his charming features. “If I’m not there to hold her, then you must,”

There’s a silent warning to his words, and Satoru doesn’t have to make an effort to catch it immediately. He already knows it by heart, he always has—he always will.

“She couldn’t stop crying for over an hour anyway,” he ends up retorting sharply instead, hoarse voice weighing a tone of suppressed anger. “Hope you gave the bastard a merciless death,”

How couldn’t he after what he did to you?

The day had started quiet, tranquil—the week itself abnormally peaceful for them. Maybe it was the fleeing summer coercing the unpleasant job of Sorcerers into days of calm, long work hours slowing down and making them believe they couldn’t relax a little bit. So they decided that it would be a good idea to take you to that new coffee shop in Shinjuku you were dying to go lately. And it was fine, of course, you were incredible happy to be outside the walls of home as you hold hands with both them in a sea of smiley people.

Until it wasn’t.

That desolated look on your face when you found yourself trapped into the arms of some Curse User seeking vengeance towards them—Suguru memorized it, because it caused him some undescribable pain he couldn’t possibly explain even if he tried to. His heart shattered into a million tiny pieces at the sight of gleaming tears drying in your cheeks and the sound of broken sobs, garbled whimpers of their names coming out of parted lips as you held onto nothing for balance, unable to stop yourself from breaking down at the fear, the horror, the trepidation it forced your body into a shock.

He couldn’t prevent what happened after they took you back and he tried to calm you down by placing you in Satoru’s lap, hurriedly murmuring something about making it right. It’s gonna be okay, princess, you’re gonna be okay. He won’t hurt you ever again. I’m here to protect you.

Maybe—just maybe—you heard the strained tone that bathed his words in that moment. And maybe you didn’t understand it right away, or maybe you didn’t want to.

Because Suguru has always been there to make things right, and nothing else has to matter when he and Satoru are there to protect you from the dangers of the world.

Like they have devoted themselves to do.

Suguru doesn’t remember the exact time you came into his life—he doesn’t really care to, because he knows you’ve pretty much always been there. He has no idea where do his memories begin or end at, but the teary-doe look of your face has been plaguing the tissues of his brain for so long now he can’t find himself to remember a time where it hasn’t been there.

He remembers his first day at Jujutsu High, during the spring of him being fifteen and you a little less than that, when he saw you adverting everyone’s gaze as you walked behind your mother (an assistant director, of all things) towards the offices in silence—floral dress wrinkly as you seated in some chair and patiently waited for your mom to finish off her work. No complaints but with a huge pout, bored to death.

He remembers the first time Satoru made you cry by telling you you were a weak nuisance (and how he shortly laughed at that), and he remembers the sickening feeling of nausea that infected his stomach shortly after—and he remembers how it didn’t disappeared until he handed you a beverage from the machines and you smiled at him like none of them ever harmed you in the first place.

He remembers you admiring your mother’s ivory dress the day she married principal Yaga, and he remembers the way he took your hand into his to give you a little bit of courage as you and Satoru walked down the aisle side by side, carrying the rings of the newlyweds.

He remembers the winter of Satoru’s eighteenth birthday, when the white-haired man accidentally dropped a box full of the school’s Christmas decorations over you, making you trip down the stairs and hurt your ankle. He remembers the tears that stained his posh pajama pants when you shouted at him—immediately, instantly—crying out his name and seeking comfort. He also remembers the way Satoru moved around you like a lighting bolt, reaching and lifting you up in his arms before Suguru could arrive. Soothing sweet words into your ear, kissing your cheek as he darted a glare in his direction.

He remembers that they both shared the same thought at that moment, even though it was never vocalized.

He remembers how you have always made him feel this sick—as if you’re infesting his body and refusing to let him cure himself off you at all. He remembers because the feeling doesn’t really stops, never has, probably never will, and he has now grow a little too familiar with the lingering explosion of things that do make him feel alive bubbling in his chest. He’s now used to you setting his soul on fire and making him sick.

But it’s special, nonetheless. A sugary sweet method of inflicting pain—as Satoru likes to say.

Because Suguru Geto is not exactly a good person by his own perspective—but he likes to believe he’s a good man to both you and Satoru, for selfish that could be. The kind of man that puts your safety and well-being on top of anything else, the one that ensures both of your happiness above his own. He’s the type of man that allows some of his darkest desires to die in a fire, following what he believes is the right thing to do.

Suguru’s nowhere near salvation—soul too damned to expect something else—yet his heart aches, breaks, and cries blood at the mere thought of not deserving you. He might have made a path down the cursed side of being a Sorcerer with Satoru next to him, making the best of his efforts on keeping you away from that devilish facade of his you haven’t seen yet, and although he’s the one to blame when you finally do, well—he can’t hide anymore. That’s the price that comes with being one of the Strongests.

“Sugu?”

He can hear it clearly, so vivid and bright and sweet it makes him terribly sick all of a sudden. Singsong and gently voice, coated in saccharine sugar echoing through his ears as the most enthralling tone wraps around his name like a prayer, the deliberately long uttering of ‘Sugu’ forcing the curves of his lips to fall abruptly, his heart stopping without notice and an invisible punch to the guts knocking all the air out of his lungs.

“‘Toru, Daddy, where are you?”

Suguru waits—pretends he doesn’t really care as your footsteps sound closer, closer, closer, and his posture maintains, seemingly calm, apparently unbothered, somewhat bored. But, oh, Satoru knows.

Satoru knows as he sits by his side on the obsidian sectional sofa, with legs crossed and arms splayed over the border, that his best friend’s mind is going on a haze, a brand new sense of anxiety crawling under his skin like a thousand bugs eating him alive. Satoru’s almost certain, he’s sure that if he gets a little closer, the violent sounds of Suguru’s heart pounding in alarming violence against his ribs would cause him physical pain. It puts him on edge; the mere thought of his best friend’s reaction at what’s about to happen now.

If it were him, he wouldn’t care. He hadn’t care in the past, actually. Satoru has always been more than happy to let you near the side of him that glows closer to hell than heaven itself.

But Suguru is different, he thinks.

“She’s supposed to be sleeping,” Suguru stares at him blankly, a hint of irritation in his voice. “It’s long past midnight, and she gets all cranky in the morning every time she stays up,”

“She was sleeping,” Satoru stands up, a sigh sliding past his lips while moving to the bedroom door. “But you already know how she gets if she wakes up for water and is all alone in bed. She gets all needy,”

Suguru raises an eyebrow.

“And who’s fault is that, huh?”

“It’s not polite to finger-point, Suguru.”

Both of them stay silent for a bit, carefully paying attention to your sounds. Suguru tuts his tongue when he hears you calling his name near the bathroom hall.

“I’m too bloodied for her to see me like this,”

“Clearly. Just stay there, lemme—,” Satoru scoffs, opening the door and then closing it behind him swiftly before you can catch a glimpse of the inside. “Oi, sweets, what do you think you’re doing out of bed?”

“But ‘Toru,” you complain in a hushed whine. “You left me alone, you know I don’t like that. It didn’t felt warm anymore,”

Suguru can’t see you—all he has is a muffled sound of your distorted voice, and he swears he knows exactly the way your lips are pushing the loveliest pout to ever exist, the way you’re looking at Satoru through sleepy eyelashes as you put your little complaint out.

And he also knows Satoru might have rolled his eyes playfully at the sight, pulling you closer to steal a kiss from your frowned lips.

“So needy, my baby is so needy,”

“Is Suguru not home yet?” you ask slowly, perhaps setting your groggy eyes into Satoru, staring at him with that enamored look they both know too well.

“Do you want Daddy?”

“Yeah, I do,” you snort.

“I’m your Daddy and I’m home, so,”

“I want both,” you giggle softly, so sweetly Suguru can feel his insides melt at the sound of your bubbling laugh.

He’s sure Satoru has you entangled in a hug, probably sneaking his hands all over your body and tickling your sides to pull a smile.

“Oh, your dumb Daddy, too. Alright. I dunno where he is, sweets,” Satoru states, as if.

“How mean, ‘Toru.”

“Excuse me? What did you just call me?”

“Mean. You’re lying to me.”

Suguru smirks at that. He stands up from the bed and walks towards the door to open it and find you both in the exact position he predicted.

And the look you shoot his way, the frown that forms in your face and your pretty features contract in sudden worry when his frame appears in front of you—it all has his heart pounding like crazy, he feels so loved, he feels so full of you. He feels insatiable.

“Oh,” you let out a little squeal as you shift from Satoru’s embrace and into his, “Sugu, you—”

“Don’t worry much about this, princess,” he mumbles, catching you inside his arms like the world depends on it. “I’m okay.”

But he’s sure you’re crying anyway.

And you don’t even stop to think about the blood. You don’t even care that he reeks of death and violence and Curses as you hold onto him for dear life, with arms that wrap tightly around him and pull him closer, closer, even closer; as lips caress the skin of his neck and little mewls echoe softly against his throat. Pants of I love you, I don’t want anything bad happening to you, I love you, fueling his mind like a bomb ready to launch.

Satoru laughs it off with a devious smile.

“Poor baby, you have her worried sick, Suguru,” he falsely chides. “Guess you gotta make it up to her.”

“Uh-huh,” Suguru nods. “My poor princess, do you want Daddy to make it alright?”

You nod in between heavy breaths, head still buried in his neck. Satoru gives a soft slap to your ass whimsically.

“So needy,” the Strongest murmurs, but he rapidly turns away and aims for the stairs. “I’m gonna go find a snack though, I’m starving. And then I’m gonna prepare a bath so you both can meet me there in a bit,”

Suguru nods.

“Go on. Let me take this princess to bed in the mean time, then we meet you in the bathtub,”

Suguru takes you to his large bed and places you in the middle of many soft pillows cooing in your ear to wash the concern out of you, but you’re reluctant. You cup his face and scan him looking for wounds, soon realizing the ugly streaks of scarlet that stain his face are, in fact, not his. But even then you don’t flinch. Instead, you let your hands wander all over his chest—desperate to pull him into you, to merge your bodies and never letting him go, never separated.

“Oh?” Suguru smiles at your scattered words. There’s still blinks of sleep tugging at your tired eyes, and he can’t help but fondle your face cautiously. “Are we merging with Satoru too, hm?”

You nod, sulky little look fighting sleepiness with all you got.

“Of course, Daddy, always with ‘Toru,”

“That’s right, princess. Always with Satoru,”

You inhale a deep breath. It’s easy for Suguru to notice every little thing about you, so he caught up on your train of thoughts before yourself. You were struggling with some words, biting your lip, eyelashes fluttering, thinking hard about something.

“What is it, baby?” He wonders carefully, hot breath colliding with your face, nose caressing the soft skin of your cheeks as he inhales your scent.

“Did you do a bad thing, Sugu?”

The question lingers on his brain for a few seconds, mind resisting on reflecting such thoughts. Yet his expression doesn’t change, he maintains serenity as the brush of skin above yours doesn’t stop. He holds you like a priced possession, like your mere existence could ever absolve the decaying all Sorcerers are damned to. Like you could kiss him and save him, like you could hug him and guard him—as if you could turn blood into holy water or death into salvation.

Maybe you can.

“Will you still love me if I did?” He asks, not dreading the answer.

“I will never stop loving you, Daddy,”

It ignites his body. Fire burns at his fists and he kisses you deeply, mouths meeting around a new heat, with tongues slipping and teeth clashing desperately. He has no intention of letting you catch a break, mouth falling to your neck where he bites at the sensitive skin and causes you to mewl.

“Ow, Suguru, that’s mean,” you grumble, but you part your bare legs anyway when his hands drop and brush at your thighs.

“Can’t help it, princess,” he press a chaste kiss to your lips once more. “You gonna let me play a little with this pretty pussy, yeah?” The words flee his throat in a raspy tone, and his hands don’t stop. He hikes up that oversized cashmere sweater, that can only belong to Satoru, barely above the line of your lacey black panties, enough for him graze it and get a glimpse of your puffy lips against the fabric, awaiting for him. Suguru traces a finger along your cunt, causing you to shiver at the cold digits. “How gorgeous,”

You pant. “But—The bath, Sugu,”

“He can wait a little,” he says into your mouth “Gonna make you feel really good, princess,” he breathes heavily, rocking his hip a little as a thumb strikes tenderly your cunt through your panties.

And he notices right away—in the way you shiver under his touch when he hovers completely above you, how a breathless sigh escapes past your parted lips and your fists grab a handful of his shoulders to attach yourself onto him and make his bulge nudge your cunt. He repeats the motion a few times, mouth leaving stray kisses in your neck and already throbbing cock humping your covered pussy through his pants.

“Sugu,” you whine at one particularly hard thrust of his hips, involuntary loud moan reverberating from the back of your throat. “‘Toru,”

“Shh, princess,”

Suguru is fast at parting your panties to the side, and he says there’s no need for prepping you tonight, says it’s gonna be real quick so you can both go back to Satoru—with his cock an angry shade of red as its released free from his trousers and it aims for your tiny hole fast, thrusting in one go. You’re whimpering at how fast it happens, cunt burning at the sudden intrusion since he is usually the one that takes his time to properly prep you to take his cock.

You guess he’s feeling off, so you happily comply if that’ll help him.

“Want you, Sugu, I need you,”

“Ah-ah, my good girl,” he grunts lightly, hands steadying you by the ass as he finally bottoms out. “Can you keep doing that for me? Can you be a good girl?”

A loud hiss vibrates through clenched teeth as you wrap your legs around his hips, head nodding many forms of yes as you inch closer to him in distress.

“That’s it baby, take it pretty,”

“H-Hurts a little, Sugu,” you murmur softly, eyes glued to where he’s slowly sliding in and out.

“I know princess,” he pants. “Give it a minute,” He’s practically caging you shortly after, thrusting up roughly as stretched out walls wrap him and suck him deeply. You’re not given a chance to recover or adjust properly, but the burning does start to fade away. Discomfort grows into pleasure and whimpers turn into soft moans as you bury your face on his neck and his hot breath collides sharply against the shell of your ear. “You’re so brave, my good girl. So pretty, my princess,”

You lift your hips to meet his thrusts, dainty fingers digging the flesh of his shoulders when he grunts. And it doesn’t take long for tears to collect in your eyes as heat floods your body once again, the familiar throb of your clit making you aggravate the hump of your hips so your swollen bud finds a little bit of friction. Suguru doesn’t fail to turn you into a needy mess, strong hand coming to cover the cries emitting from your mouth.

Muffled chants of Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, alongside his hoarse grunts and the lewd slap of skin against skin are the only sounds that fly the room when he cums—bruising fingers grasping your flesh harshly as he paints your walls white, and nearly immediately you’re creaming all over the tip of his sensitive cock firmly pressed against your cervix.

“Not leaving you baby,” he pants out. “Not leaving you at all.”

[old-skyguy]

This podcast has been sad and all but the first time I actually teared up was 26: the Bedrock because holy shit the writing of this episode is absolutely perfect. Just, in every single aspect.

-Arthur's loss of humanity showing through the development with Yellow, and how because he was so unsympathetic and cold, that's why yellow was so stubborn and heartless. He can't see it, but his loss of humanity throughout the series bled into John and is starkly contrasted from the beginning of the series when he had more empathy, something that is GLOWINGLY obvious when John returns and highlighted with Faust.

-His miscommunication with John about the real reason he wanted to kill Larson. That if he'd just told him about the sacrifice at first, they wouldn't have been fighting the whole time and John wouldn't have had to play moral compass. He could've reassured him before everything went down and maybe even convinced him to help those people when they were still in the mines.

-Arthur's monologue about Peter. Up until now, we barely knew anything about him, aside from the fact that he was his best friend. The revelation that he came into Arthur's life after Faroe's death somehow makes their friendship that more impactful. Sure, John killed him, he acknowledges and is remorseful for it, but he has also BECOME him. John didn't push him for answers about his past, just like Peter didn't! When Peter came along, he was at a VERY vulnerable place in life and from experience, prying that sorta personal thing from someone only makes them reluctant and resent you for it. Instead, he subtly manipulated Arthur into telling him. Now, John did sorta the same thing, but instead of manipulating it out of him - even though he's this all-powerful being that ABSOLUTELY could have - he waited. He waited until Arthur trusted him enough with that part of him. John has become a reflection of Peter. But Arthur can't stand that because he still, in a way, deeply resents John for his death and he can't stand the thought of someone who took that from him changing to be better. And who can even blame him for that?! He is absolutely justified in his perspective, but that doesn't change the fact that he cared for John as a friend - so much so he KILLED himself just to save him.

-the scene with Uncle where he was literally just sitting there with Faroe's music box. Uncle - as far as I've interpreted - isn't conscious about what Larson's doing. It's naive. It's curious. It's just as innocent as Addison was when Larson was using her. It's just as innocent as Faroe and using the music box to trigger that feeling of guilt and anger with Arthur is so. damn. haunting.

-just the parallels of everything that happened with Yellow is repeated with John, but instead of the bickering reflected in season one, it's just John being concerned about Arthur while he goes mad and blind with rage trying to kill this guy. And also maybe himself. ESPECIALLY on the ledge.

-"I've come so far.." when contextualized with Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, something that's already been thematically important in past arcs.

-The voice acting while he killed Larson ALONE was just so incredible. Let alone his self reflection and guilt over Faroe's death that he projected onto Larson as he kills him. Fully believing he deserves the same.

-This series is so good with exposition. The way he was so vague with John about it - only showing subtle hints through his dialogue until the very last second when all has been said and done and his emotions have come to a head.

-The way he genuinely sees himself - someone flawed who made an honest, tragic mistake - in Larson - someone who made the conscious decision to sacrifice his own daughter - and believes he deserves the same date as him. His guilt that flows into Larson's death like the blood that spills from his eye sockets onto his hands.

-How could they have won when we're not even finished? When we're not yet done fighting? AND THEN THE POEM. THE POEM. PROMISES. THEIR JOURNEY. THEIR PROMISES AND FRIENDSHIP AND THEIR RESPECTIVE JOURNEYS TOWARD HUMANITY/SELF FORGIVENESS.

-It's not a CLEAN slate.

-"We can't escape these things we've done."

"I'd rather greet a new day like an OLD FRIEND. With fondness and appreciation. My friend." I WILL DIE.

-Just the joy of him eating. The joy. The joy of eating with John. Fantasizing about dancing and dinner and drinking. He's slowly starting to forgive himself and let himself deserve the simple joys and he wants to enjoy them with John. With his friend.

"Sounds like we have plans, let's make sure we keep them" He has promises to keep!!

This podcast is amazing and this episode was the PINNACLE of the emotions that led up to it. I love it so much.

[theoldoor]

Some Talia + Post-talia content with these bumsOUUOUHOUHUH IM FUCKKIN GSIISSIICKCK

During Talia, Fenrir had lost the ability to read considering his worsening eyesight and lack of interaction with literary medias. He used to teach the kids at the orphanages and people of his own clan, but now he’s with the majority of those who can’t read. (HEADCANON PART) It’s something Fenrir was very insecure about. He grew up lacking education and had to teach himself a lot of things through the library of the estate he was held in and he felt behind his peers for that. He speaks when he needs to around those he’s not close by and when he does he makes sure to check the thing he was about to say in his head multiple times so that he wouldn’t say the “wrong thing.” When someone pointed out an information, whether if they’re right or wrong, Fenrir’s first instinct is to believe them as he doesn’t think he’s smart enough to confirm whatever he was saying, even if it was common sense.

Aventurine came around, he was also one to teach himself a lot of things too considering his background. But Aventurine had his eyesight and he still had papers and stuff from the things he brought along for the Talia mission - he could still read. (HEADCANON PART) The reason why Fenrir knew how to read a few parts at the end of the quest, despite claiming to be illiterate the whole thing maybe was because Aventurine taught him to read along the way - accommodating his impaired vision too.

HERMIA’S CONCEPT WAAA I LOVE HERRRR she’s so >:^ she’s like my niece but i do have to focus on building her character more. she’s more fleshed out in combat and abilities more than loreeee. after im done with her ill move onto stella and bronte lol. she’s tuxedo cat themed, hence her hair and the faux cat ears + hetero chromia.

Fenrir is popular with the kids of Avidity for his gentleness, patience and domestic nature. It was something he brought alongside him from his upbringing. He was born into servitude and a “domesticated dog will always be haunted by the call of the wild”. This is also something that he does genuinely, not to use them for any gain for himself - he believes that kids should be taught kindness before brutality. To him, traces of humanity is above all, considering where he was raised.

Caring for them also gain him quite a reputation, no one really bothers to handle the kids in Talia - As long as they live kinda ideal they got going on there. So Fenrir took the “burden” of the children and let the clan go do their things with no worries.

Though Fenrir feared death twice as others, that also means he valued life twice as others too. He went too far, he has lived this long, it’d be a burden not to see another day and see all your hard work go to waste because you wanted a permanent solution to a temporary phase of your life. He believes that kids should be living by that too. Idk man he’s a caring older brother because he sees himself in these kids and he did not want them to go through whatever he did.

Especially with Hermia, he loves her most and same goes with her. Hermia is the only one who was willing to stick by Fenrir’s side even when he kicked her away (metaphorically) and they’re awfully dependent on one another. Hermia provides Fenrir with the accommodation he needed for his impaired vision and comfort, in return Fenrir brought her closer to the clan and became her older brother (found family way) - he took care of her in every part.

Fenrir was a brutal and cruel man, that doesn’t mean he was not a man.

He has humanity, and that’s why he was discarded to the wasteland of Talia. I think Talia’s concept of “recycling” everything works well - especially for characters like Aventurine and Fenrir. “To be reborn is to live again.”

The two are cruel because they’re survivors. They’re cruel so they can see another day not because they wanted to. They were taught and force to be cruel in this current life. But just imagine, if everything reverted, if they get to be recycled and experience the side of life that runs rather the side that crawls. But to live again also means you gotta go through all the struggles again,

I wrote for the quest for Aventurine to go through everything in Sigonia again as the price for having a family again LOL what a nice bet you made with the devil there aventurine (he made a bet and he “lost” for the first time) and for Fenrir he was in the recycling process during talia and post talia is when he finished recycling ehheuehe.

ooouuuhh he wants that cookie so fuckin bad EUEHUEHUAAAUGGGH jealous fenrir hello

but yk, i dont want aventurine to be the punching bag. he struggled a bit when he came back to pier point and has to act like everything was normal - even given the purple heart equivalent for whatever he contributed during Talia but he didn’t want that at all. Imagine getting honored and praised for losing your loved ones, that shit mustv sucked bro

so fenrir came back, it works well with his dog motif on how he keeps crawling back no matter what. he will always bring back the ball you told him to fetch. loyal as a mutt - “desperate dogs bite harder than wild ones” type shit idk man but when they’re back it’s just “ok” again. Aventurine had a little closer connection and so does Fenrir- now they’re up to some silly shits in penacony or whatnot lol

just like

they went through a lot, but that doesnt strip away their humanity. human has been humans and will always be.

[easy-revenge]

do you think angel refusing to put the dying man out of his misery was out of genuine belief in the suffering of human deaths, and thus his relationship with aki teaches him human compassion? or was it a front for his misery of causing the deaths of humans who go on to haunt him, and thus his relationship with aki(and the foggy memory of his previous lover) teaches him to actualize that compassion? bc he shows mercy to the dying woman in the bomb arc, but before aki shows him compassion by saving his life. tldr what do you think the timeline of realizing compassion is for angel?

oh that's a very nice question.

i kind of always believed that angel's demeanor was to an extent a front to cover the fact that he didn't want to use his power.

im undecided about whether it was a conscious choice or an instinctual response to the unresolved trauma of killing his village.

like, does he not like using his power and uses laziness and cruelty as an excuse for other people or does he feel the guilt creep in every time he's called to fight and found that attributing it to hating humans bc he's a devil is easier for himself?

I don't think he ever truly felt that way about humans. the whole "they deserve to die painful deaths" thing. like even thinking as a devil it would make sense to absorb that dying man's life span since it's useful to him.

it had to be a front, at least to some extent.

to answer ur question, when does the switch flip? when does the mask crack?

it would be clear as day if angel showed mercy to that woman AFTER aki gave up two months to save him.

however as u said, it happens before that. the way i see it, angel and aki had the same effect on each other. and it progressed very quickly as well.

they both have history driving them. aki has lost people, lost himeno and is all the more susceptible to the fear of losing angel as well. angel on the other hand, even though he doesn't remember it, must still be experiencing the grief and guilt of what makima made him do. lots of loss there too.

they aren't new to compassion. the barriers were weak even though neither would admit it. so they bring each other's walls down easily enough.

aki reminds angel of his past lover and the ppl of his village, bc even begrudgingly, he's kind to angel. he in turn reminds aki of himeno for obvious reasons. even if in their brains just being aki and angel isn't enough yet, their histories get them there.

so, angel is compassionate to that dying woman, letting his affection for humans slip through the cracks. soon after, aki gives up two months to save him. same as he did when he drew the curse's sword to save himeno. only now it's for this partner he barely knows, who is a devil on top of everything else.

i dont think there was a distinct switch flip for either of them. i think their stories, their relationship to each other and the parallels between them took them slowly but surely from being "natural enemies" all the way to the hospital scene, where they both confess to wanting to do everything in their power to keep each other alive.

a tale as old as time, but it's so gratifying how it works so so well with both their characters separately. they rly came around to finding lost pieces of themselves through each other and i love that.

[shmowder]

So I've been loving your other reader stuff and wanted to discuss expanding the x reader universe with some Stamatins.

I have this one idea, please consider, reader accidently seducing Peter, which causes Andrey to fall hard for reader as well (since I doubt he could ever really love someone who doesn't also love his brother.)

Specifically, I have this scene haunting me, and I'd love to see you expand upon it.

Peter and Reader are at his loft where he's doing figure drawings/painting of Reader. But instead of it being just some sexually charged thing, it's super comfortable. They're laughing and joking with each other. Peter keeps getting distracted bouncing ideas around the room. It's this genuinely sweet and tender moment.

Meanwhile, Andrey is also around watching this all go down. And he's seen muses come and go. Usually, it's pretty or interesting things that catch Peter's eye and are gone just as quickly. But this one is so very different. Genuinely engaging with Peter's ideas. Not some lovesick puppy or someone living in a fantasy. Just a person enjoying spending time with another person.

Hope that was at all coherent? Feel free to get weird. Sfw and nsfw interpretations are valid

Aword

[Fluff, Romance, referenced sexual topics/Alcohol/drugs, Falling in love, Devotion, Codependency, GN reader]

[Andrey/Reader, Peter/Reader, Polyamory]

In which Andrey Stamatin attempts to understand his younger twin's enamoration with you and how it might have started.

Only for him to helplessly fall a victim to your smile.

Andrey Stamatin can recall the exact number of times he has seen a smile on his brother's face in the past year. his fingers were more than enough to count them on; the number kept dwindling with each cycle around the sun.

The seasons would come and go, yet neither of them would blink an eye. Downing a full bottle barely burns the back of Andrey's throat anymore, the smoke rarely stings his lungs, the adrenaline flooding his brain from taking another's life scarcely lasts more than a second.

Peter's smile, however, the chime of his laughter, could feed Andrey's starved soul for centuries. Paint the greys of his world in velvet crimsons and royal blues, gold-like yellows, and sunset bright oranges.

Drugs could only go so far, after all. Various stimulants were sampled and put to the test, yet not a single one managed to match a fraction of the euphoric bliss he gets from seeing his brother gleaming with happiness.

Currently, the source of Peter's unusual fits of passion was laying in an empty bathtub, fully clothed. The same empty bathtub his brother tended to use as a makeshift bed.

Peter always had the most unusual ideas whenever he found himself in a creative rut, attempting to overcome the art block by any means necessary.

Andrey was nothing if not overly indulgent of his brother's fleeting whims.

Not to mention with the very short amount of time Andrey spent inside their shared house, Peter could just easily use his brother's untouched bed whenever the neck pain from sleeping on an oversized ceramic bowl grew too cumbersome. Or so Andrey assumed, he hasn't really checked on his supposed personal room in a long time, he can't even recall what colour the walls were painted with, let alone what type of sheets were laid upon his bed collecting dust by now.

Just how exactly did you weasel your way into Peter's life from under Andrey's nose? The older twin can't help but wonder at times.

Did the two of you meet in one of Peter's bi-monthly trips to stand in front of his beloved paper wooden daughter and simply stare? No. Andrey makes sure to accompany his brother during those trips to the polyhedron.

Maybe it was something absurdly mundane, like in a grocery store or a trip to the tailor? Unlikely, Peter's food is delivered to his front door, and he would rather set his whole wardrobe on fire than wear something touched by amateur hands when it came to sewing.

Andrey witnessed it before when their maid in the Capital sent one of his brother's favourite shirts to be repaired in some no-name tailoring store. Coming home that day to his brother sitting on the front steps of their burning house, grumbling about how the winds keep swaying the flames and messing up the shadows as he sketched the scene of the crime on the few unburnt papers he grabbed on his way out.

It doesn't matter how.

The voices of chatter fill the usually quiet room, light conversations flowing seemingly between you, the art subject, and his brother sitting on a stool nearby, the painter attempting to immortalise your beauty on a canvas.

Because no matter how this miracle happened, Andrey will do anything in his power to make sure it doesn't slip away from Peter's fingers, from his own fingers.

The sunlight phasing through the apartment's window reflected mesmerizingly against your skin, the gentle smile on your face only making you appear more radiant. Andrey's eyes could barely look away from the ethereal view amidst the mundane messy room, from the way your fingers ever so delicately traced against the rim of the bathtub, temptation tugging his heart forward by its strings.

Your air of comfort was infectious, Peter's fingers gliding against the canvas with the brush as he noted every single detail he saw, each colour documenting every feeling passing through his soul.

getting up from the comfortable armchair, Andrey walked over to the middle of the room where the main event was taking place. Resting his chin above his brother's shoulder to take a better look at the painting, the other acknowledged him with a proud look as if to show off his magnum opus.

Peter's put great details in the way the light reflected off of your eyes. The way your body was positioned looked almost an invitation for onlooker to step inside the oil painting and bury themselves into your chest and tuck their their bodies safely inside your heart for eternity.

He could almost feel your lips against his own just by looking at this piece of art.

What did they taste like? a sweet cherry ripened to perfection? A fresh minty finish from your toothpaste? A rich bitter aftertaste from your morning coffee?

Or did you prefer milk? Would his tongue taste a hint of the creamy flavour if he traced the insides of your mouth with it?

Or maybe you had more bite to your bark and a sharp iron taste would overwhelm his senses as your teeth dug into his lips while his fingers tightened around your neck enough to leave a shadow of discoloration behind.

His biggest mistake was turning his head around to face the real thing. The real view of you laying back with such a relaxed expression despite being in a room with the two most dangerous men in town was more than taunting in his eyes, it was basically a personal offence to carry such a bright smile carelessly in his presence knowing what he is capable of.

Whatever Andrey desired, Peter would overdose on until he developed an addiction. From the first sip of alcohol from a stolen bottle he shared with his brother, to the last person who warmed Andrey's bed only to end up in his brother's for the week.

Andrey would get something, and his younger twin would wordlessly copy him. Andrey would find someone, and Peter would borrow them from time to time.

A silent agreement between the two to always share, that's how it always worked.

Up until now.

Somehow, it was Peter who found you first. Somehow, you've been living under a rock away from Andrey's eyes and reach. A hidden gem that he didn't get to first, despite turning every rock and poking into every crevice in this forsaken town.

Is it jealousy that he's feeling? Is it the burning of envy's green flames suffocating his lungs? Andrey was always the man at the centre of everyone's envy. It will never be the other way around. He rejects those feelings belonging to lesser men, never someone of his status.

No. This is something different, something much deeper. He is above petty envy; he lets Eva roam freely and never looks twice at whose life Maria's ending with a kiss this week.

Or was it simply different because Peter was involved this time around?

Because this isn't mere sex, you're not a stray from a one night stand Peter's taken pity on.

Andrey's not even sure his brother even bedded you yet. The smell of sex simply wasn't in the air, and he would know since Peter never opens the windows to air the room out.

What exactly was your relationship?

The two of you joked and laughed like long-lost friends, knew just how much to push and when to pull back. It wasn't the intense passion of sinful lust burning in his brother's eyes but the budding hope of a lotus blooming after a fresh morning rain.

You've even tried to include him, to infect him with your warmth, reel him in with your innocent smile. You probably weren't even aware of how tantalising you looked with your pure friendly act.

The worst kind of sirens in Andrey's eyes were the ones who weren't aware of their temptations yet. Those ones posed a real danger to his sanity, a real threat to his addictive personality.

Pulling his body away from leaning against his brother, Andrey walked over to you, staring you down as his legs stood uncomfortably close to where your head laid, almost boxing you in.

You didn't look nervous. You weren't the slightest bit intimidated by his towering presence. As if all his muscles were for show, as if his hands, which took lives too easily, couldn't touch you if they tried.

It was suffocating, your heavy presence. The power you held despite literally laying down beneath him, staring up with wide innocent eyes. It made him want to puke his poisoned heart out. It made him want to kneel before you and seek redemption for his sins. It made him want to fall asleep in your embrace.

It made him want you beyond bodily desires, beyond sex and beyond a mere muse to burn in order to fuel his creations.

But he'd never utter those words, for there is no need to. His brother perfectly understood him from just one look, Peter practically guessed what's going on in Andrey's mind during any given moment of the day.

Yet the word for what you are hasn't been invented yet into this world, linguists didn't stumble upon it, scholars never felt it.

How lucky they are to stumble upon a glowing ember of another miracle practically begging to be added to their list of ever growing resume of achievements. A creation in the making.

They did it once with a tower, it's about time they tried it on a living breathing human being.

Andrey leans closer to gaze down upon your eyes, upon his latest invention, still a newborn in its prototype days.

For now, a muse is what you shall be called.

Until the day comes when the whole world learns a word fit enough to name you by. A word both of him and Peter will piece together letter by letter.

[kikokus]

Trafalgar Law Character Study, Part 16/? (Dressrosa, Part 6)

So. It’s been…just over eight years. But I’ve had some requests to continue the analysis posts I’d been doing way back when and since I’m finally caught up with the manga again it seemed like as good a time as any to start doing that!

[Part One] // [Part Two] // [Part Three] // [Part Four] // [Part Five] // [Part Six] // [Part Seven] // [Part Eight] // [Part Nine] // [Part Ten] // [Part Eleven] // [Part Twelve] // [Part Thirteen] // [Part Fourteen] // [Part Fifteen]

The first thing I want to say is that I haven’t gone back and read all of the previous posts in this series so just a general warning that there might be questions/speculation within those that we actually have concrete answers to almost ten years later so if something doesn’t quite match up with canon that’s probably why! Most of the actual character-related things about Law should still be accurate, though…

Oh boy I picked a good group of chapters to come back to, huh? Let me just say that reading these in real time was…an experience…a very stressful experience…so back then the last thing I was worried about was character analysis but looking at it years later there’s actually a lot of important things that happen! 

The first of which is that obviously we know by now that this isn’t what Cora wanted at all, but Law’s spent so many years convincing himself that it is that this…specter of Doflamingo that’s been haunting him is almost more powerful than the real thing and that’s caused him to combine Cora’s wish for him to be free with Doflamingo being defeated to the point that he can’t separate the two any longer.

This whole section is to set up Law’s reveal that he also carries the Will of D but it’s still kind of amusing to have him asking these seemingly random questions about Luffy during the middle of a literal life-and-death battle. There’s also this running theme with Law where despite the fact that this is something both he and Luffy share, he always seems to place more importance on Luffy than himself. Obviously we know that he has no idea what the Will of D actually is so I think this is more just based on his own personality, but it’s interesting nonetheless. 

Somehow I still see people discussing whether Law’s any good with Armament Haki when he’s using it right here and certainly not at full strength but it’s very interesting that Doflamingo becomes one of the few characters in the entire series to know this about Law. Law’s never really flaunted the D initial like a lot of others that have it but that seems to mostly be due to his family wanting to keep it a secret and not based on his own feelings, though this scene in particular I think is meant to mirror the reveal of Doflamingo being a Celestial Dragon because that was something Law could never have accounted for but now he’s got an equally pertinent piece of information to catch Doflamingo off-guard.

And while it doesn’t exactly work as intended, Law was trying to distract him enough to get Doflamingo to make a mistake and that’s exactly what happened so if nothing else he gets a good hit in. Still, for all of Doflamingo’s denial that the whole ‘fated enemies’ idea isn’t true, he’s getting very defensive about it so it makes you wonder…

So Law’s not…wrong about this, since Cora overhearing his full name was what seemingly first got him interested in this whole quest to save Law so in that way it could certainly be looked at as a catalyst of sorts. And it’s also true that Cora probably wouldn’t have been able to kill Doflamingo despite going so far as to point a gun at him, but I do genuinely believe that—in a different series where the narrative would allow such a thing—Law would have killed Doflamingo here.

I really like this group of panels because Doflamingo is seeing Law as he was the first time they met: as someone so angry and disenchanted with the entire world and so resigned to their fate that the only thing that registers is this compulsive need to cause destruction. At the time Doflamingo had said he saw himself in Law because of that, but now that it’s being directed solely at him I’m sure the impact of that is quite different. It’s also a bit of a sign for us as readers to connect the two since Law’s grown and changed a lot from that time and he attributes it mostly to being ‘saved’ because of Cora but this shows that side of him that was created out of losing everything and everyone he loved all at once is still something he can bring out under the right circumstances.

Doflamingo actually says a lot of things in this part that are kind of an insight into what Law’s thinking, and this is one of them. Law’s usually a lot more calculated and careful with his plans, but because of Bellamy deciding to distract Luffy he’s completely alone and has pretty much no tricks left so the only thing he can do is throw whatever he’s got at Doflamingo and hope something works.

This, however, isn’t exactly accurate. I do believe that if all of Law’s initial plans had come to fruition that he would have been content with Kaido taking care of Doflamingo in his place (since, in the end, he’s at least accepting of the fact that Luffy’s the one to do it) but for a variety of reasons that…didn’t happen, and with him being by himself in this position and being so close I think he does let his emotions get the better of him in the end. 

Law’s still so calm and rational here and I think it’s because he’s resigned to whatever’s going to happen, but this is an interesting comment because Doflamingo loves trying to make people feel guilty for things that weren’t their fault and he’s attempting to blame everything that happened in Dressrosa completely on Law giving that letter to Vergo instead of any other Marine. But this is the first time that Doflamingo acknowledges that what he did to the Riku family and the country as a whole was a ‘tragedy’ and you can tell from his reaction that he didn’t even realize he’d done so until Law pointed it out.

Looking back at this now it holds a bit of a different connotation but in this moment Law was fully prepared to die and content with that in terms of him feeling as though he’d achieved Cora’s goal (even though he really hadn’t). However, it also still holds true in the present because while his own goals have changed drastically, everything is still being done with Cora in mind…though now it feels far more like a tribute as opposed to the pure revenge it became up until the end of Dressrosa.

Doflamingo’s fully capable of using his ability to kill but he prefers a gun instead and once again we get the mention of lead bullets so between those (twice in this arc now) and amber lead Law’s having a bad time with that particular element. I won’t get too much into how Doflamingo considers the executions he’s done as mercy killings and the only way for people to ‘atone’ for the sin of having the audacity to stand up to him, but I’m still amazed that Law was already almost running on empty and got his arm chopped off and he’s somehow conscious and coherent at this moment.

I have no idea how Law managed to get a tourniquet for his arm with everything going on but in this instance Doflamingo’s completely right: Law hasn’t been living for himself for a long time and everything he’s done has been with this singular goal in mind to the point where he really can’t pull himself away from it.

Considering the repetition that Law has some higher power looking out for him that happened throughout his flashback, I’m inclined to think this is actually foreshadowing that Law’s going to get out of this somehow even though reading it week by week it…didn’t exactly seem like it at the time… Doflamingo’s got some real guts still trying to get Law to make him immortal after everything, though.

Look, Law flips him off in the very next panel, but this is as blatant a ‘go fuck yourself’ as he could have ever given. Earlier in the arc he claimed to not care about the people of Dressrosa but now that Doflamingo’s been trying to guilt him into feeling responsible for their plight he’s using that as part of his way of firing back at Doflamingo for things that were done entirely by his own hand. At the very least, it’s good to know Law isn’t blaming himself for any of it.

Besides the callback to him doing this when we first met him, what’s really important here is that even facing certain death (and at this point I’m inclined to believe he did think it was certain, but I’ll get into that more in the future…) he’s trusting not only in Luffy but in all of the Strawhats to see the plan through and succeed. That’s a lot of faith to have in people he hasn’t known for very long and speaks to how he truly views them and what he thinks they’re capable of.

Doflamingo gets careless when he’s angry and I think this was Law’s final Hail Mary in the sense that if anything was going to save him it was Doflamingo’s rage making his aim unsteady. It’s also somewhat ironic that Doflamingo is listing all of these things that were born from Cora’s love for Law and Law’s desire to acknowledge and remember that as if they’re something he has ownership over and is solely responsible for when that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

This has nothing to do with Law himself but let me tell you that this image of Luffy only noticing the state Law’s in because there’s so much blood on the roof that he literally slips on it has stuck with me since the chapter came out and it’s so visceral and such a visual indication of how intense Doflamingo’s rage was in that moment.

‘He really seemed to trust you’ just hits me in the gut because once again Doflamingo’s up to his old ‘make someone else feel guilty’ tricks (and for Luffy it would hit especially hard given what happened with Ace and how he feels about not being able to save the people he cares about) but also it’s just…true. Law trusts Luffy so much and even at this point some of the fandom was convinced he was going to betray the Strawhats when that shouldn’t have even been a consideration any longer.

And again we get the idea of the Strawhats being able to work ‘miracles’, though in this case it’s simply Doflamingo mocking Law’s words and not putting any belief in it himself, but this was…probably one of the worst chapters to have to wait a week for the continuation. The one bit of hope we get is Law’s single speech bubble at the end telling Luffy to listen to him but that was…very little to go off of…

Well, that seems like a great and happy place to end this part! I hope you enjoyed (?) and please do feel free to like and reblog; especially after so long I’m not sure how many people are still around who want to read something like this so it helps inspire me to keep going!

[the-cookie-of-doom]

Episode 2: “She”

Pear really deserved better. Like, I feel for Mike and his situation, I feel for Peem, but damn. She really got the shittiest breakup. Not literally died over it levels of bad breakup, but still. So much of what happens in this series is so unnecessary. If Mike had been a little less selfish, the tragedy could have been avoided. Not even brave! He didn’t need to come out to break up with her! But he wanted the picture perfect life with a secret lover on the side, and unfortunately, that’s just now how things work. That’s what makes it such a good tragedy; you see where these characters could have gone right, but they have believable reasons for where they went wrong, instead. 

So, when discussing why ghosts exist/haunt the earth, Peem says: “I think there are two things, either caring, or holding a grudge.” Which in his case, it’s both! In the first episode, during their kissing scene in the drama class, Peem looks downright malicious. He’s making Mike feel what it’s like to drown, what he himself felt, and enjoying Mike's terror. He’s laughing at it. So when this scene happens, it’s easy to think Peem is only there over a grudge. Except… when we get to the third episode, we also see some tender moments between them. He still cares, too. 

Peem is also a possessive little thing. He knows he’s the other woman, but he’s happy to physically get between Mike and Pear when the three of them are on the couch, and she wants to trade places. He refuses, she leans around him to complain to Mike, and Peem leans forward and blocks her. Meanwhile Mike is hiding behind Peem, who picks up a book and holds it in front of both of their faces, Peem leaning in to Mike and physically cutting Pear out. The whole thing is played like he’s joking, they’re all laughing, but… for Peem, it’s more. He doesn't give up his spot beside Mike (and Mike doesn’t move to join Pear.) Peem is staking a subtle claim, and Mike is letting him. Because while Peem is possessive, Mike wants to be wanted. Not possessed, because he refuses to let Peem actually have him. But he gets a thrill from watching Peem keep him away from Pear. Whether or not you think the feelings for Peem were any deeper than surface level lust + convenience, he likes the attention Peem gives him. 

Side note, the English lesson scene made my brain hurt. Sympathies for anyone learning it as a second language, bc oof. 

Another side note, Peem is so painfully, obviously in love with Mike.

Look! How tender they are!! 

I love this entire scene, because this is one of the times where we see Mike being fully, genuinely himself, and he’s a terrible flirt. He can’t even help himself. He’s making all kinds of innuendos (“maybe we should do something to help us wake up, then come back to read''), lowkey kabedon’s Peem by climbing over him after already asking him to hand over his guitar. He teases Peem for being a romantic when Peem flirts back, then offers to write him a song (Moment, my beloved ;_;). There is so much longing in this song, a desire to be close, to not let go, forever. And there’s a promise in it, too, the song ending with a repeated “There will always be you and me together”. That’s all Peem wants, reassurance that Mike will still be there for him, even if he stays with Pear. And it’s reciprocated! Mike wants to be with Peem. He just can’t admit it in any serious, concrete way. 

Then here we have another example of Peem taking the initiative physically. Mike makes what could be taken as a confession, so Peem comes closer, like Mike is asking him to do; lays on his shoulder while he sings, kisses him when he trails off. Even when Mike is being flirty, he’s all talk, no action. 

However, the scene does end with Mike laying Peem down to keep making out with him, technically taking initiative for the first (and only) time. As we’ve set up with their give-and-take, Peem rewarding Mike when giving him affection, Peem then chooses this moment to tell Mike he loves him. Mike, predictably, doesn’t respond. He hesitates, then kisses Peem again. He doesn’t give an answer one way or the other. If he doesn’t return Peem’s feelings, then he’ll lose him. But if he does, he’ll have to face all of the things he’s repressing. All he can give Peem is the physicality of their relationship. And Peem once again meets Mike halfway; instead of demanding a response, he accepts what Mike is willing to give him, because it’s better than nothing. 

Interestingly, this very sweet scene is where everything goes to hell. Peem tries telling Mike off because Meen, their friend sleeping in the other room, will hear. Mike laughs it off and says it doesn’t matter because he’s asleep. Cut to Meen very much not asleep. This continues the pattern that when Peem puts himself out there, when he puts his trust in the things Mike tells him, he’s punished for it. Mike tells him everything’s going to be okay, and he wants to believe it, so he follows him down the path of his own destruction. 

Gonna pivot over to Mike, once again, being a terrible, incorrigible flirt. 

Peem: Mike, do you still want more sausage? Mike: Up to you. Do you still want to give it to me?

I hate this joke so much T_T But also, it is hilarious, and Mike is such an incorrigible flirt, this is exactly the kind of dumb shit he would say. 

Bottom. 

If you check out THIS gifset, we can see that Peem is the one leading things in their relationship. It happens on Mike’s terms, sure, but Peem is presumably the first guy he’s ever been with. So naturally Peem would be the one to more or less take charge. He’s the one pushing Mike into the table and taking his clothes off, while for the most part, Mike isn’t moving. Aside from that scene on the couch, Mike just. Lets this happen to him. I think a large part of that is a desire for plausible deniability on his part. He flirts relentlessly, but vaguely. Any comment that could approach a confession is dismissed by a joke. He wants Peem, but so long as he’s not an active participant in their relationship, he can pretend like he doesn’t. 

Back to the pool scene, Mike isn’t expecting the kiss. He’s walking away when Peem pulls him back. He’s (very) into it, but he didn’t ask for it. In the BTS interview Jeff said it was like he was being passive/attacked (lol), which he explains as being because he chickened out/didn’t know what to do when the director told them to just go for it. Adorable, but also it does play nicely into Mike’s reluctance towards letting himself be with Peem. 

Now. Let’s talk about Mike’s relationship with Pear. D/t the non-linear storytelling, and my not paying attention to throw-away lines, and a weird translation at the start of the ep, I didn’t realize Mike and Pear were dating until this scene!! RIP to me. Anyway. 

This just breaks my heart. Look at her expression, compared to Mike's. She already knows that this over and he has no idea. She isn't even angry, she's resigned, she's already accepted it.

Pear deserved so much better. It’s her 3 year anniversary, and she gets to celebrate by finding out her boyfriend has been cheating on her for god knows how long. And Mike is so determined not to face any of his problems, he refuses to see that she is Not Having A Good Time. Playboy can’t charm his way out of this one, though. It’s so sad, too, because the way she looks at him in some shots, she clearly wants to believe he really loves her. He’s certainly acting like he does. She’s a very similar position to Peem in this scene; both of them want to know Mike loves them, but Mike is incapable of being fully with either of them. 

Just like I do think Mike has genuine feelings for Peem, I also think he really loves Pear. I think he cares very deeply for her, and I don’t think he wanted to hurt her. But again, he’s shown time and again to be a very selfish character, and she recognizes that. Rather than choosing to believe he loves her and pretending she doesn’t know about Peem, she breaks up with him. (Good for her!)

Even when Mike finally does recognize that she’s upset (only once she says she wants to break up, forcing him to see her), he dismisses it. Laughs and deflects, the same as he does with Peem, because he doesn’t know what to do when confronted with EmotionsTM. And honestly—Pear handles this with the grace of a queen. She gives Mike a simple explanation: things aren’t working out, we should break up. She doesn’t blame him for cheating on her, doesn’t yell, doesn’t even tell him she knows about Peem. She probably recognizes why he’s cheating on her instead of breaking up with her first (wanting the safety his relationship with her provides, while experimenting, which feels incredibly dangerous), and tries to let him maintain at least some dignity and plausible deniability. If anyone asks, they could just say things didn’t work out and move on. She could have easily, and justifiably, raked him over the coals. But she doesn’t. She’s giving Mike the chance to bow out. 

Of course he doesn’t take it. He either takes her home, or follows her there (assuming they’re all living in the same dorms?), demanding answers the whole time and getting the silent treatment. He asks her, “But if we don’t talk to each other, how can we solve it?” Very rich coming from the guy who’s refused to have a genuine conversation at every opportunity. He follows this with “I don’t know what I’ve done,” and she responds, “It’s better not to know.” Again, giving him the chance to leave with his dignity intact. She’s a better person than I would have been. It’s likely some measure of self-protection, too. No one wants to be the girl that got cheated on. But it would have been so easy for her to spread it around, out Mike for cheating on her with Peem, and ruin his life. But she doesn’t. She doesn’t want revenge. She isn’t vindictive. 

Side note: Pear finally shows him the texts from Meen, exposing his cheating, and Mike runs off with her phone. My dude. Have you not caused enough problems without stealing her phone too?? 

Mike automatically assuming Peem is the one that outed him to Pear is interesting on two fronts. 

Of course he does, how would anyone else know? Mike thinks he’s been successful at keeping things a secret, and Peem just confessed to him. He’s seen (and enjoyed) Peem getting possessive over him in front of Pear, and this is the natural escalation of that.

From what we’ve seen of their relationship so far, Peem never actually asks Mike to leave Pear. Probably because he knows he can’t trust Mike’s feelings for him (as he shouldn’t), and knows there’s no point. It would only serve to make Mike angry, which might make Mike leave him; Mike is only with him because Peem makes him feel good, after all. Peem might avoid Mike when he’s feeling rejected/neglected, and make sad eyes at him when Pear is involved, but for lack of a better term—he knows his place. And he knows his place in Mike’s life is beneath Pear. 

Finally, the fight that ends it all. Mike’s internalized homophobia is becoming externalized!!! It’s really sad the way he attacks Peem. He knows Peem loves him—Peem is the only one who loves him, now. But Mike is so caught up on the end of his relationship with Pear, and what it represents—him failing to uphold the  values he’s placed so much importance on—that he doesn’t care how much he’s hurting Peem. If anything, Peem’s heartbreak only makes this worse. Mike doesn’t want to love him. Peem tells him he has nothing left without Mike, and Mike doesn’t care. This could have been a moment of freedom for him, finally able to be with the person he loves, still safe in the knowledge that Pear will keep his indiscretions a secret. But he’s too self-centered, focusing on what he’s lost instead of what he still has/could have. 

And Peem finally snaps back. 

Peem: Have you ever had feelings for me, or do you just see me as your temporary fling? Mike: I don’t know! Peem: Or am I just someone who makes you feel good whenever you want? Mike: Remember this, I love Pear, not you! Not you at all!

True to the pattern, he is rejected for reaching out. Mike returns his honesty with deflection. 

Here we see Peem finally confronting his own feelings. He’s known all along what he is to Mike: a source of validation and experimentation. He didn’t want to see it, because he probably hoped Mike would eventually learn to love him. Or, if he sees Mike's feelings, hoping that Mike would eventually admit them to himself. Even now he’s still reaching out, trying to calm Mike down. He never gets far enough to even suggest this could be a good thing, because they could finally be together. 

Instead, their fight leads to Mike shoving Peem back, and Peem tripping into the pool. This is one of my favorite scenes of the whole thing because you see Mike struggling. He doesn’t know if he should jump in and save him. Then he remembers the last time this happened: Peem agreeing when Mike suggested he was only pretending to drown, only trying to get his attention. Here, Mike sees it as an attempt to make him stay. Peem pretends to be in danger to force Mike into saving him again—proving how much Mike cares for him. 

But Mike leaves. And Peem drowns.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

[mandalhoerian]

NO TIME TO DIE | leon kennedy x oc | 9

pairing: leon s. kennedy x oc word count: 13K~ warnings: desth of a child, suggested suicide off-screen, sewers summary: In trying to make up for a previous mistake, Vera digs herself into a deeper hole yet manages to add an FBI agent to their ever-growing party, anyway. There's something about her, though, that only Vera is privy to. author's note: dedicated to @sweet-hometea for all the love on this fic and the fanart, and to @mykobirb as well, especially for the lovely comment on ao3! and also!!!!!! to @byexbyez -- literally nobody commented on my works ever like they did, thank you so much 😭😭😭😭😭

READ ON AO3 ! ☆ NO TIME TO DIE MASTERPOST

Leon was—

He didn’t sound like himself.

Vera was unable to withhold a great deal of worry from showing itself in her face through what was essentially a crumpled discomfort like she’d just chomped down on a ripe lemon.

One didn't need months to decipher this guy’s true nature, he was the straightforward type that way; a single glance at his well-mannered, gentle demeanor spoke volumes. Leon wasn't the type to engage in psychological chess, not because he lacked intelligence or cunning, but because his character exuded honesty and sincerity — his approach to extracting information was direct, relying on trust and a genuine connection rather than manipulative tactics, after all, even when he knew she was hiding things, no on-the-nose attempt was made by him at any point to try getting her to let the cat out of the bag.

This… bargain technique didn’t suit him — and even worse, he was, frankly, terrible at it, the nonchalant charisma he should have had to support his claim was more of an anxious fight stance preparing to receive a blow because he visibly wore his heart on his sleeve, intentions transparent.

And it was none other than Vera who had steered him to this road.

Guilt washed over her in an overwhelming wave, the point where her actions, or rather, her inaction brought them to was bearing down on her with the force of a blizzard. She had let him go to great complicated and uncharacteristic lengths, navigating through the murkiness of uncertainty, all because of her own hesitation and selfishness, and the regret she had been able to push aside before suddenly became an avalanche, burying her in its suffocating embrace.

She could have saved Leon from the anguish he had put himself — was putting himself through, the desperation to uncover the answers that haunted him he was holding at bay for others’ sake. She could have spared him the emotional and mental toll it had taken.

How could she have allowed herself to play the role of the selfless protector, pretending to spare Leon and Claire from the truth, when in reality, it was her own fear and inability to confront the difficult questions that held her back? This was never about protecting their blissful ignorance, was it? She was doing this to not be hated and lose people she’d gotten attached to. It was self-preservation from the very first moment, the protection of her own feelings. Not wanting to be judged. Not wanting to be questioned. Not wanting to be perceived at all. She would have told both her companions from the start if she truly cared about them, and that was a pill she didn’t want to even look at right now, let alone attempt swallowing.

Oh, if it wasn’t the consequences of her own actions.

Of course life had thrown a whole FBI agent in the mix to laugh at her squirming to choose the least bumpy way to go about it, because how the hell was she going to set things right with a trained individual who could sniff out liars on the spot?

No point in panicking now.

It had been too long of this pretense and too much acting and misleading for her to randomly come out in what would essentially be a confessional. He would certainly resent her if she decided to disclose everything now of all the times. Because it would be personal. Because the question would be, ‘Why did you hide it from me after everything we went through together?’ and not ‘Why didn’t you do anything?’ — and somehow that was worse.

Vera didn’t know if she could take it if Leon were to look at her like Irons did. Hell, even the imagination of his features twisted in hate and disdain pointed right at her induced a whole body shudder.

God, why was this scarier than anything else they were facing?

So it was right back to the starting point. She couldn’t say anything.

Not now, anyway.

She had to stay quiet… as long as circumstances allowed it.

And if it were to be unexpectedly revealed, an excuse had to be up and ready to go with a cherry on top, and she needed to come up with one, fast.

A lie never lives to be old. Or, as they say in her homeland, the candle of someone who lies almost always burns just to midnight — and after that?

But.

But redemption of a smaller scale was still possible.

Leon could still get his questions answered and she also could delay the inevitable — all through this FBI Agent. If she were to spill the beans, then Vera wouldn’t have getting exposed to worry about for a while until they got out of RC.

This was it. Yes, fuck, good thinking.

Help Leon get the information from her, fall back on the road, get Claire and Sherry and hightail it out of here — and the following course of action?

Vera would think about it once she had a clean bed and slept like the dead and turned her brain off to everything for at least a month.

The priority was now with the obviously struggling blond and the agent.

The problem was Leon trying to play bad cop while he was clearly fit for good cop to the bone, an assist from her was necessary to swap the roles, that much was obvious from the flat reaction he’d gotten from the woman.

Her pointed, chiding pause was followed by an unmoved expression save for the amused twitch of her glossy, red-hued lips at his attempt to play the interrogator, supporting Vera’s silent hypothesis reeking from the twisted anxiety on her face shadowed by the anticipatory cringe she was trying to hold back for Leon’s sake. As an FBI agent, she must have dealt with individuals far more skilled in manipulation than a rookie police officer who didn’t even know the contents of the tape he was offering.

She wasn't about to fall for his bluff so easily.

"Let's be clear," she remarked with a touch of sarcasm, a tilt to her head. "You're not the type of individuals I would typically rely on for crucial information."

Let’s do this.

Vera put her hand on Leon’s forearm, lowering the hand he was death-gripping the tape recorder with like his life depended on it as she stepped forward, all hands on deck, preparing to take over the reins of the conversation and sending him a reassuring look as he silently questioned her. Poor guy was winded as a wire about to snap, the stress that seemed to make him sweat had waned upon her intervention, and that alone was enough to keep going. “You’re not relying on us. It’s Bertolucci. We just have his stuff. And if you’re interested, possibly more.”

Another thing that weighed on her throat and her conscience.

It was so twisted to utter the man’s name in these circumstances and use it to her own benefit, when he had perished right in front of her in the most gruesome way possible. He’d been brazen and shameless to her face, alive and breathing and talking five minutes ago. One blink and he was no more. She knew this man. She’d worked with this man, laughed with him, shared common grievances, and just like that, he was gone. They didn’t even have a chance to take in what was left of him before having to hightail it out of there for their lives. It was as if her feelings hadn’t caught up with what her brain had already comprehended.

Dying was easier than breathing in this rotting city, and getting used to it all was a silent disease as much as it was an immune system reaction.

And Vera was using the poor bastard’s name as a tool to have her way. It was a whale on her tongue.

Just keep going. Don’t think about it.

This was for Leon. (Yeah. Not herself. Leon.)

The woman made a small, judgmental noise from her nose as she slowly crossed her arms loosely over her chest, not even glancing at the ball Vera had kicked over to her side. So withdrawn.

Assessing the situation more up close and personal couldn’t go without acknowledging the government had basically caged the city in, waiting the destruction out instead of interfering, so, this sole agent’s presence here despite the raging outbreak indicated one singular objective, and Vera would carrot-and-stick it out of her, it was the least she could do for Leon.

She hoped it’d be worth it to make light of legit traumatizing events that were still fresh gaping holes in her very being.

“Spoiler alert: Emails. Journals. Documentation. Exchanges—” She purposefully stopped, as if trying to remember, squinting, and then waving her hand dismissively, but not too oblivious to raise some suspicion, adding some concern in there for flavor. “Something about some Gee-virus, its whereabouts, what it does. Some unbelievable stuff if you ask me, but graves don’t stay sacred in this city anymore and the late Mr. X over here just popped a head like a pimple in front of me.” Leon made a sound of discomfort behind her, she could hear him shift around, walk back perhaps, wary at the burning, crushed frame of the said creature buried in debris. “So shit be damned, someone really is playing Frankenstein out there somewhere. I think.”

A-ha. There it is.

A tiny flicker beneath the impenetrable ice as Vera purposefully kept on rambling. The slight raise of her prettily pointed chin, falling open of the lips, the inconspicuous shift of her gloved hands where they were snug in her crossed arms.

So, the target was G-Virus after all.

“We’ll hand over everything we have to you if you’re willing to tell us what’s going on,” Leon cut in, too impatiently eager, causing Vera to snap her head at him with a tut and throwing a look at him pointedly in a silent message to shut up and let her handle it.

He immediately got the shifty eyes of guilt.

If Leon kept bringing bargaining up out loud like that, she could hold obstruction of justice over his head for withholding information and take whatever she wanted anyway — he really was backing himself to a corner by doing that and didn’t even know it, proving once again that interrogation wasn’t his forte against a seasoned individual.

“You’re playing a game I have no patience to entertain.” Vera’s face went sour. And here we have it. This woman had to be waiting for someone to slip up to pull this card. “I guess I should inform you of Section 37A of the Federal Confidential Informant Protection Act. It’s an offense to withhold information that may hinder the progress of an investigation or put informants at risk.”

Vera held up one pointer finger in parallel to her head like she wanted permission to speak in class. “Miss. May I?”

For a split second, the agent was utterly speechless, mouth opening and closing, this was a true absurdity when all things considered they were conversing in front of a giant dead creature and a smoking, burning vehicle, bargaining like merchants, but it didn’t last long for it to be considered slipping. “What are you doing?”

Her finger went up higher. “May I?”

“You don’t have to—”

The girl opened her palms to the side and brought them together. “At risk is a magnanimously underestimating thing to say about your informant’s condition, I mean the man’s head just got squeezed like a lemon.”

Leon’s croaking sigh resonated in her soul. Truly the spirit of a scandalized goody two shoes. “Oh my god.”

She didn’t feel great about it either. He didn’t need to sound that disappointed.

“What? Why are you making that face, I’m right.” Leon looked like he was considering their friendship momentarily there when she shrugged. No idea whatsoever it was a tactic. Which was fine. Only added to the authenticity. “And. And. We are your informants now. So. The only one doing the hindering and risking is you.”

“You’re making me regret saving your smartass.”

“Oh, snippy. No need for that, we just want to help.”

“Then do tell me how you came to possess such information?”

Vera tilted her head in what would be her dumb blonde moment in a joking manner, purposefully making it clear she was playing dumb as a joke. “Stumbled on it.”

The agent wasn’t having it at the moment, however, patience cut short by Vera’s cheekiness so far. “Stumbled on it.”

“Well, purposefully stumbled on it,” Vera said, dropping the act since her energy wasn’t matched, unhooking one strap of her backpack to search the contents so she could bring out her camera, and when it was in her hand, she shook it triumphantly at the skeptical woman. Mixing a dash of truth in there for good measure. “I’m also trying to actively record everything going on in the city, so it’s not really a coincidence. In case the public would claim the footage is too Hollywood, like, I dunno, to claim mass hysteria, I was also looking to get every file in the station documenting the events and that’s when we found something — and neither of us understood what we stumbled on, to be honest.”

Her fingers had begun tapping on her arm. “What exactly is the basis of your evidence?”

“His Chief happened to be involved in guarding something impor—”

Leon chimed in again. “The G-virus.”

“The G-virus, yes,” she sighed, deep but short, not wanting the exasperation to show on her face as she focused on the automatic garage door behind the agent, trying to ignore the covered body of her dog just in the corner. “And he was bribed for his services — apparently. We saw the proof of it in his office, and took it with us. Easy as that. Interested yet?”

A head tilt. “Maybe.” Her arm lock loosened as one of her hands rested on her hip this time, an authoritative and commanding pose. More relaxed and receptive. “After I see with my eyes what you have.”

Leon tried his chance again. “You’ll tell us, then?”

Vera saw the corner of a raised eyebrow peeking up underneath the sunglasses, clearly unimpressed by his persistence. "I'll tell you what you need to know if your claims hold true," she responded, finally giving in, steady and composed and not so much like she was at the losing end of a gambit.

Leon, sensing that the agent's interest had been piqued, took a step closer, meeting the woman’s unwavering gaze underneath the veil of her black lenses. "The evidence is right here. Please. We’re not asking for much.”

The agent's demeanor softened slightly, a glimmer of curiosity shining through her stern facade. "Very well," she acquiesced, measured. "Show me what you have."

It didn’t look like she’d take off running once they gave her what she wanted — not with those stilettos, so Vera reached into her backpack once again, carefully retrieving a stack of documents neatly resting at the very back, courtesy of Leon’s organizational skills. She handed them over to the agent, who took them with a measured caution, scanning the contents with an astute precision, skipping over the police reports and obviously searching for something specific.

As the agent perused the evidence, Leon leaned closer to Vera, his voice barely a whisper. "Do you think it's enough?" he asked, his apprehension evident.

She just hummed in return, eyes not leaving the woman, not even for a second.

It was enough. The emails made the location clear as the sewers. It was all the agent had to have needed.

Vera bit her lip, teeth nipping at one particular layer of chapped skin, gaze fixed on her reaction. She had laid all their cards on the table, hoping that the evidence would be compelling enough to elicit the truth Leon sought, and if it came down to the worst, they had the keycard anyway, she could figure something out to stick together all the way to the sewers and come up with a way to persuade the woman to reveal anything at all that’d be satisfactory enough to him for the time being.

After what felt like an eternity, the agent finally looked up from the documents, her expression a mix of contemplation and intrigue. "This... is unexpected," she admitted, clearly not in her plans today to be surprised. “I need to hear that tape as well.”

Success.

She sure didn’t seem the type to be thrown off-kilter or shaken, and that fact alone caused an inexplicable smugness to spread in Vera, taking a turn to teasing, letting out a chuckle as she retrieved the tape recorder and held it between two fingers towards the agent like a piece of evidence herself. "You sure you don't want to see the movie too? Have popcorn, sit down on the sofa? Agent...?"

Vera couldn’t help but continue with an arched eyebrow, expectant and confident, as the agent seemed to process how to deal with her after Leon simply held out his palm at the sight of Vera playfully offering up the item of importance. But it was undeniably amusing seeing how someone who carried herself with such assurance got stuck in the moment for just the shortest instant of uncertainty before she smoothly recovered to reach and take the device from Vera, who did not miss a beat to toss it over.

"Ada." The agent replied dryly as she handled the device, fiddling with it until she found the right button, and with a nod, pressed down on it, ready to absorb whatever secrets hid within it. "And take it down a notch," she warned with a serious undercurrent, before turning around and starting to walk away towards the entrance of the garage, a silent expectation for the both to follow her.

The corners of Vera's lips drew upwards, the beginnings of a smirk curling them as she nudged Leon. "Too much?" she whispered.

Leon was torn for a moment, before his eyes locked with her and he released a sigh of surrender that quickly morphed into a resigned smile, glancing behind him . "Let's just follow her before she changes her mind and leaves us to the mercy of this... thing."

The three continued towards the other side of the room, the clicking of the agent's high heels echoing ominously as they walked across the dark concrete, the tape recorder crackling into life, static cutting through the heavy silence.

Vera gazed to the side at Zeytin's covered body, spacing off at the lone paw poking out, trying hard to suppress any thoughts she might have, biting inside of her lip, and clenched her fists tight at her sides, staring ahead now.

“But that doesn’t explain the rumors about the orphanage. I-I just find it way too coincidental Umbrella’s one of the benefactors,” Ben Bertolucci pressed, obviously slipping it in there nonchalantly in the middle of some conversation, his casual attempt at digging further into the company sounding like gossip he was trying to get her to talk about with him, and Vera snorted, never tiring of the audacity this man possessed.

May he rest in peace.

Leon jogged forward, producing a keycard out of his pocket, and slid it inside the control panel, the gates rolling up to give access to the outside world, a cold, fresh whiff of night rain enveloping all their bodies, and it was so refreshing that Vera inhaled deeply through the nose while Leon didn't look away once from the agent and the tape recorder, intent to listen.

There was a pause, a few moments of silence save for the rhythmic beats of their footsteps against the ground. “You told me this interview was about the new scholarship Umbrella set up.”

Vera's ears twitched as they exited the building, listening closely, but she was focused more on the woman and trying to read her mood. So far so good as they started ascending the slope, getting a clear view of the street ahead and a hint of freedom.

“Come on, Annette. Nobody cares about that. They want to know about the G-Virus, and the—”

“Where did you hear about this?”

That made her feel strange all over, a creeping uneasiness rising inside her belly, like when someone says your name, you naturally react — like a trigger. The same happened when you heard your own name being spoken out loud in the distance, even though you didn't quite catch the rest of it, but it still hit home and you looked around, expecting to spot who it might have been.

“—and that big fucking sinkhole in the city which, by the way, rumor has it goes straight to your underground lab.”

She heard Leon murmur, "Lab?"

Vera took advantage of their walk uphill to glance back, noting they had left the doors to the underground structure open, to hide her face, mostly, and feign observation over their route. But she couldn't stop the flinching of her body when they finally stepped into the rain, droplets splattering onto her clothes, instantly cooling her overheating head, so refreshing she wanted to stay and turn her head up at the sky.

They were leaving the station behind.

Leaving her dad behind.

That somehow was harder to come to terms with than having to bury him with her own two hands.

“Now, are you going to talk to me or are you—”

“This interview is over.”

One hand slipped down from her heart to rest against the stomach that wanted to reject her half-digested food at the realization.

Was this really going to be their goodbye? Just walk away like that without so much as a proper ceremony to remember him by? A pitiful, shallow hole with no time to mourn over him?

"Bitch."

When her hand began trembling, a large, warm one touched hers, taking it off her belly and loosely holding it in comfort, and it grounded her to reality. She blinked several times rapidly at nothing, trying to quell the random hysteria from descending upon her, feeling like her limbs were detached and she was watching herself on the side.

The street they arrived at after climbing the parking garage ramp was quiet, apart from the trickle of water and the distant sounds of shuffling feet in the background, almost peaceful, if not for the unnatural, desolate feel that seemed to permeate the entire neighborhood. They stood in a rectangle of a road surrounded on all sides by narrow buildings of varying architectural styles, tall houses lined up together like little boxes, and cars littered throughout like forgotten, thrown toys, the bright light from a nearby fire flickering against the gloomy backdrop in the far right corner. Some of the windows of the buildings were shattered or boarded up; others were partially open, allowing them to see the darkness that loomed behind the glass.

All of them seemed empty, abandoned.

Despite the lights.

What an oddly organized ghost town it was, she thought absentmindedly. She spent her teen years here, yet it appeared like the architecture didn’t want to blend in with her memories, clashing instead in an eclectic showcase. Everything had this… vibe of having been lived in once, and now just completely lifeless and dormant.

An ambulance was parked awkwardly in front of a rusty metal fence to the left of the trio, its back door hanging open as if it had been hastily discarded there, the vehicle's wheels dug deep in the mud and it looked to have been abandoned for days. There was blood spattered across the paramedic uniforms that lay on the ground next to the stretcher, but thankfully, there were no signs of bodies anywhere. It was a part of a barricade of vehicles blocking the path down the main road, leading deeper into the city center, with a pair of police cars taking the lead and another ambulance as the rear guard, a seemingly hasty precautionary measure to prevent anyone from driving past, or things from coming in, which meant the only way to move forward was to the right.

Where the, uh. The sinkhole was. Leading to the sewers. What a neat coincidence.

"Does that confirm the intel?" Leon prompted the agent again when they all approached the roadblock. He stopped by the nearest police car, eyeing the hood as he spoke. The way he stood, rigid, alert, like he was ready for something bad to happen anytime—

"Surprisingly, yes." Ada was quick to respond, the low, sharp edge audible over the pitter-patter of rain around them. It was obvious she wasn’t too keen on cooperating fully. "Good job, you two."

Vera turned towards her. "Huh?" Her response came out small, choked, her face twisted in genuine confusion that bled into her voice too, but the woman paid her no attention as she simply proceeded walking. She jogged along to catch up with her, frowning. "You said you would tell us what's going on!"

The agent slowed her pace, tilting her head just slightly to address Vera over her shoulder as they crossed the blockaded area. "Will you finally get the hell out of here if I do?" she asked, her voice dripping with thinly-veiled contempt, the first sign of frustration surfacing beneath her calm demeanor.

Leon caught up in an instant. "We have friends trapped in the sewers. We won't leave without them." He was firm, leaving no room for discussion, and it was that determination that seemingly convinced Ada to drop it with a sigh, reluctantly stopping by an old brick wall, the surface marred with graffiti, posters, and dried up bloody handprints.

She glanced over at him, lips pursed as if debating whether to elaborate, then turned her head and pulled her sleeve to check the watch. "Just my luck." Her jaw visibly clenched, tense lines etched on her forehead, her annoyance apparent, and the way her gaze drifted off into the distance, lost in thought, until she straightened her back abruptly and faced them. "You might not make it out once you get down there. It's best if you forget about your friends and get yourselves to safety," she warned them matter-of-factly, dismissively, with none of her previous sarcasm, a subtle change in the pitch of her voice like a different person had taken her place, despite the jaw-dropping cruelty of her suggestion.

"One of them is a child," Leon countered, a twinge of disbelief coloring his words. It didn't escape Vera's notice, nor his wince at the way Ada tilted her head to the side in response. "We can't just..." A pregnant pause followed his words as he fought for the right ones, shoulders sagging. "You've seen what this city is like," he finished quietly. "We can't just merrily go on our way and leave her behind."

The woman hummed in response, folding her arms on her chest, and stared pointedly at Vera this time. "What about you?"

The question hit her like a bucket of ice, and her mind just blanked out. The shock must have registered on her face, because Ada just made a noise resembling a suppressed snort of amusement. "You don't seem the type to play hero like this one over here."

Ouch.

No, she definitely wasn't. That much was true. How'd Ada read her so well like that?

She wasn't selfless, heroic — she didn't do the right thing for the sake of it, like he did, no, she wasn't acting out on a moral compass, not really, she was... just selfishly sticking with him, so she could keep him safe and protect what she cared about. Nothing else. Was that wrong? She couldn't help that her instinct to preserve her own skin kicked in like that, but she refused to let him or Claire and Sherry die. She didn't want to lose any more people. For her sanity, or not. At most, she was just following his lead in hopes for a bigger payoff, and if they were able to get to them alive and healthy in one piece, it would absolutely be the biggest win she could get out of this nightmare situation, along with collecting even more evidence pertaining to Umbrella's illegal experiments, proving the company's crimes against humanity once and for all.

Everything was connected. It had to be.

But.

But she was aware it sounded bad if she had to voice any of it out loud. It was truly morally gray territory for her, but it didn't feel like a choice. Not a conscious decision. It just... was.

"It's not playing hero if I'm just returning the favor of saving my life," she murmured, crossing her arms on her chest with an exaggerated shrug, defensive, unsure where the answer came from but it sure felt true. "And what does it matter, anyway? We're all going the same way. Let's just help each other out."

Another slight head tilt. "Right," the woman said in a drawl, seeming amused and intrigued by Vera's answer. "My point still stands. I'm only trying to save you both some trouble and help you out," she added, walking ahead of them, stopping at the point where the road ended in a sinkhole, staring down at the construction site that led to the sewer below and turned her head to the left. "We'll take the long way."

Two things happened in Vera's brain at once: victory exploding in a colorful triumph of fireworks because holy shit, this whole FBI agent fucking wordlessly agreed to adding them to her party like this was some videogame, and dread crawling like an army of ants all over her body at recognizing what had Ada’s attention.

Gun Shop Kendo. Where Uncle Ken lived upstairs with his wife and daughter.

Her thoughts instantly raced on how they'd be faring and surviving in these conditions, a surge of fear pulsing through her veins like a shot of adrenaline straight to the heart.

Leon wasted no time and went after Ada, taking careful steps towards her side. Vera lingered at the edge of the sinkhole, eyes wide at the glowing neon sign above the shop, unable to move an inch further. The red color that flickered on and off cast a hypnotic haze to her vision, and in the midst of it, her legs moved of their own accord, propelling her towards the other end of the street without thinking too hard about it.

It was automatic. Unconscious. Like falling into a dream. Or a nightmare.

One foot after the other, picking up the pace as she advanced closer while Ada was crouching in front of the shop's door and picking the lock, her mind wandering aimlessly to those past moments of playing with Emma in the backroom of the store, Uncle Robert teaching her the ins and outs of gun care, Mrs. Kendo serving delicious, piping hot lunches that had Vera drooling just to think of, Marvin having to personally come and pick her up because she wouldn't want to go home after spending the day here with the family, learning something new and getting pampered by a woman who showed her actual motherly affection.

All those fun times replayed in her head on repeat like a nostalgia montage, but the smell of something rotten snapped her back to the present, a nauseating sensation making itself known in the pit of her stomach, threatening to revolt against her as she paused in front of the storefront, frozen on the spot, swallowing thickly as she eyed the corpse of the infected woman slumped across the shop window, blocking their path inside and to the backroom behind the counter where the stairs to the apartment were located. It had her wanting to scream at the sight of the dark, slimy substances spilling everywhere and tainting everything they touched, but she swallowed her own bile down as she gazed at the decomposing creature, barely recognizable at this point, so mangled and broken that it felt disrespectful to acknowledge it had ever been human once.

Did they all end up like that?

A wave of crippling fear swept over her, causing her whole body to tremble, sending a cold shiver down her spine, forcing herself to walk forward into the shop. As she stepped in, a soft 'click' echoed in her ears as the lights blinked on and she could see her surroundings clearly. The inside was deserted and ransacked, with all the displays lining the walls empty, tables turned, items littering the floor, and bloodstains covering every inch of the hardwood surface. The door to the display cabinet behind the counter was hanging loose from its hinges, creaking and groaning as the wind blew it back and forth, creating a ghastly rhythmic symphony to go along with the raindrops tapping against the windows.

The shelves and cabinets that were usually full with all sorts of knick-knacks and goods, now left empty, had fallen over during the attack that transpired here and were strewn about in a haphazard fashion; the register sat on top of the counter, with a trail of dried blood smeared across its screen, and a black laptop lay cracked open near the cash drawer. Vera kept going around aimlessly, not even thinking about looting whatever was still there, more preoccupied with scanning the wreckage in search of any signs of life - anything at all that would give her a glimpse of hope — but, seeing nothing promising, it suddenly seemed futile.

There wasn’t much she could do, except stare into the distance and observe the destruction around her in silence, trying to digest the scene unfolding in front of her without losing her composure and letting despair consume her soul whole.

At the very left corner of the store where the guns were on display, and shooting targets hung on the brick wall, she could see bullet holes and shattered glass everywhere, as well as pieces of shattered wooden frames lying around the area, remnants of whatever furniture might have once adorned the space. A note carefully left on top of the table pinned by a piece of wood caught her eye, and after approaching it curiously, she could clearly read the writing that was scrawled across its surface.

Kendo,

It seems like you've got your reasons for staying put, so I'll trust you to take care of yourself.

Still, if things get worse and your "other arrangements" don't work out, you know where to find me.

I'll do everything I can.

Jill Valentine

Jill! So she was okay, just fine! Relief filled her with happiness and comfort at reading it �� the woman was competent and kind enough to make sure someone at this place she trusted was doing alright. That was great news. It also meant Uncle Ken was around! That cheered her up so much she actually found herself smiling for the first time since they got out of the station and it felt natural.

She was about to call for everyone when a muffled sound reached her ears, freezing her on the spot. People talking. Arguing.

She would recognize his grumpiness anywhere.

Without any further thought, Vera stumbled forward, sprinting towards the direction she thought she heard his gruff voice coming from, hoping against all odds that he was safe and sound, and turned the corner, out the door leading to the back street and into the rain again, and came face to face with Leon and Ada having their guns on Uncle Ken, who was also pointing his shotgun at them, standing in front of a barefoot Emma.

The relief she initially felt upon seeing that they were both alright gave way to sheer terror at the scene unfolding before her eyes, her brain unable to process anything other than the sight.

"Uncle Ken!"

In one second flat, she dashed forward towards the group as fast as her legs would carry her, ignoring Ada's sharp, "Stay back!" and Leon's shout of her name, and wrapped her arms around Ken's waist, pressing herself close to him, a choked sob escaping her mouth, trying to suppress another one when she took in the smell of cigarette smoke, soap, and sweat — and despite everything that happened today, the familiar scent of home engulfed her senses, easing her nerves and calming her racing heart.

He smelled like he always did after a shift, ready to cuddle up on the couch together and eat junk food while watching reruns of shows and movies they liked to critique, or have a discussion about all kinds of stuff while Emma did her homework at the dining table.

His breath left him like a gust of wind, like he couldn't believe what had happened, but still, after an exasperated huff, she could feel his solid body relaxing under her grip, and in that moment, she knew she did the right thing by reaching out for him. His free hand rested on top of her head gently, carding his fingers through her hair in an attempt to soothe her, murmuring softly in her ear, "Oh, kiddo..." And when she finally pulled away, she noticed tears forming, a tired smile appearing on his weary face as he took her in.

Vera couldn't hold it in, feeling no older than Emma, just as helpless and small as her voice shuddered, "He's gone. Dad— dad's dead."

The words made everything seem final, closing the chapter on what had transpired tonight, and she watched helplessly as his expression fell, a somber look passing over his features. He didn't say anything, didn't ask questions, just stood there in silence, absorbing everything she told him before taking another breath to compose himself, placing his hand on her arm.

"Step aside, we need to terminate her before she turns," Ada interrupted briskly, finger curling around the trigger at Emma as Uncle Ken pushed Vera behind and swiftly blocked the woman from aiming, shouting in defiance.

"Terminate her? She's my fucking daughter!"

Vera took a step back, really looking at Emma for the first time since arriving, and saw with horror that she was... uninjured. But... sick. Barely on her feet. She swayed precariously, sweat beading on her brow, white as a sheet, sleepwalking almost, unblinking, unaware. There were dark purple veins all over her neck, face, limbs, creeping slowly up to her temples as though they were trying to spread outwards and consume her flesh whole.

Oh...

She gaped, open-mouthed, at the young girl, unable to do anything else but stare dumbly, heart thumping loudly in her chest, a horrible, crushing weight settling down inside her lungs, paralyzing her muscles, rendering her speechless.

"Emmie, honey?" Her voice broke as she tried to reach out for her with trembling hands, stepping forward hesitantly. Tears stung and burned in her throat when she received no reaction whatsoever, not even acknowledging that someone was calling her name or touching her shoulder, so unlike her. Her beautiful brown eyes were almost milky, unfocused.

"Emma, sweetheart, I told you to stay put." Uncle Ken's gruff tone wavered, raw emotion leaking through his usually stern exterior, not tearing his vigilance away from guns pointed at his way either.

"Daddy..?" Her little raspy, frail voice whispered. A shaky palm held up the air, her head swiveling left and right, dazed and confused, lost, wandering through darkness in search for something tangible, graspable, to keep her grounded. It was for her parents. Of course it was, who else but the most important figures in her life would she yearn for, scared and alone and probably hurting, being taken over by whatever was happening to her inside.

For a fleeting moment, Vera thought she wouldn't mind being bitten by her. To share whatever pain she was experiencing. Perishing together side by side, holding onto each other's hands, because there was nothing she'd rather be doing in this world right now.

Leon lowered his gun, an unmistakable sadness flashing across his gaze and his mouth twisting into a frown as he glanced between them with sympathy and sorrow, reaching and putting a hand on Ada's extended arm, shaking his head at her. "Ada, just let them be."

And she complied, surprisingly, sighing heavily, though she didn't seem too thrilled about it judging by her pinched expression. It was only then Uncle Ken's tense stance loosened and he released a shuddering breath, shoulders dropping along with his shotgun, but when Vera looked at him again, she couldn't help but flinch back when her gaze met those hazel eyes that normally exuded warmth, now lifeless, dull, glazed over like those of a dead man walking, devoid of anything recognizable except for pure emptiness and exhaustion.

He passed by Vera, who didn't follow his movements and just froze fixated at the place he just stood, to kneel by Emma's side and embraced her small form carefully, tenderly, burying his face in her greasy, short locks.

She didn't reciprocate the gesture, letting her father squeeze her, not blinking, not breathing, just staring blankly at somewhere ahead, as her father rocked their bodies back and forth in a soothing motion, a comfort that didn't get through to her, not anymore, never again, and he must've known it too, yet refused to acknowledge it. "Yeah, Emmie. Daddy’s here. I’m here, okay?"

The sound of strained breathing was loud in Vera's ears, ringing in harmony with her thunderous heartbeat as the situation fully sank in, weighing down heavy on her entire frame, bringing her down on her knees, clasping her mouth, muffling the loud, ugly, painful sobs that forced their way past her lips. The wet pavement beneath her legs was cold and rough against her exposed skin, the frigid air penetrating her every cell with every labored breath she took, a biting, stinging sensation spreading across her body, burning like acid eating away at her flesh and bones, corroding everything.

She couldn't do this anymore. She just couldn't do it anymore.

Emma, little Emmie, the embodiment of sunshine. Too smart, too young, too good. Had no chance against the evil that befell Raccoon City that night.

Too innocent.

"Those fuckin’ things outside… Look what they did to us," Uncle Ken cursed, anger laced within every word he spoke, seething.

"Mo-mmy..?"

"Mommy’s sleeping, honey, okay? …Emma."

All her efforts, all her sleepless nights spent hacking into databases and infiltrating buildings, collecting evidence—all for naught, because of her stupid, arrogant negligence, acting all high and mighty when she had the privilege of avoiding living in this hell, not even checking in on the Kendos for one simple reason — convenience and cowardice. All she did was play detective and waste time looking for ways for others to succeed instead of using the tools at her disposal and saving lives.

Someone — Leon, she assumed, gathered her into his arms, pulling her into a tight embrace against his chest, shielding her, offering solace, allowing her to cry freely without any judgment or shame.

"Why did this have to happen to her?" Uncle Ken murmured, his voice cracking with regret, sounding broken beyond repair. "Why my sweet little angel? Why... why is there no justice in this goddamn world?!"

He didn't receive an answer from anyone in response, but Vera wondered what answer she'd give herself if the question was directed at her.

"Why did this happen? How did this happen, huh?" he yelled, hysterical, making her squirm uncomfortably in the blond's arms. "What the fuck do your lot exist if you can't provide help when it matters? What use are you!"

Vera felt Leon flinching back, his muscles tense from being confronted. Nothing was even his fault. Hell, this was his first day. And yet, here he was, on the receiving end of all of her Uncle Ken's frustration, like someone who was getting scolded at and deserved it, with the way he tightened his jaw.

She wanted to protest, to defend him and stand up for the rookie officer. Because the same could be said about her, not him — not Leon, who was willing to put his life on the line for strangers, who took action when nobody else could, who carried other people on his back, who was gentle and compassionate and empathetic and just so genuinely good.

Vera pushed away from Leon, wiping at her face hurriedly, the tears falling nonstop despite her best efforts, and threw a pleading look at her Uncle, desperate. Don't blame him, she begged in her head, over and over like a mantra, and she hoped she conveyed the same to him through her bloodshot eyes. Please don't.

To which, the middle-aged man just bowed his head and held Emma closer, his breaths ragged. His eyes glistened with unshed tears. This was the portrait of grief: a deathless loss of a loved one.

She stood up on shaky feet, wobbled to Emma and laid a hand on her father's arm, swallowing down the lump in her throat as she peered down at Emma's lifelessness. Vera took in all the details of her pallid face, committing each curve and feature to memory, afraid to miss out on something as they walked away. It felt like she had lost the only thing tethering her to her old life, like she was floating above a vacuum and if she allowed it, would just vanish into thin air, evaporating, disappearing. But she had to stay strong - it wasn't about her.

"What can we do for you?"

A beat. Silence. Uncle Ken closed his eyes briefly, distraught, but resigned, exhausted and tired of carrying all this burden that should have never been his to begin with. After a pause, he rose to his feet and faced them. He lingered on her with meaning, searching. Whatever he wanted to convey, it was lost on her, for the time being, because she could barely maintain eye contact with him as it is, with how overwhelmed she was with sadness.

"Just go, leave us be," he ordered softly, turning his back on them, clutching Emma close and lifting her up in one swift motion. "Don't come back, Vera."

A single drop rolled down her cheek, followed by many, streaming down relentlessly as she watched him disappear into the backroom with Emmie staring right at her without seeing her. This was it. There was nothing she could do, no comfort she could bring to him or even herself. The door slammed shut, the echo resounding throughout the alley and making her shoulders jump, the click of the lock loud in the otherwise deafening silence.

Gone. Just like that. No goodbye, no closure, just finality.

Yet another door between her and the people she cared for shut before she could do anything, another bridge taken away. Another loss.

She hung her head, focusing on her boots, too weak to even cry anymore. Everything felt wrong, off somehow, disconnected and faraway like an image fading into obscurity, slipping through her fingers like dust.

The first gunshot coming from within the room rang through her ears, clear and distinct, breaking the fragile peace surrounding them, the shattering noise ripping apart the fragile threads that tied her mind together. She shut her eyes tightly, squeezing them until her eyelids ached, gritting her teeth hard and digging nails deep into her palms until it hurt enough to distract from the agony in her chest, hoping that the physical pain would offset the mental torment.

The second gunshot came soon after, and with it, another piece of herself that broke away.

Leon was suddenly by her side, standing next to her as still as a statue, fixed on the door, stricken, strangled, like all of this was his doing, his fault.

He whirled around to face Ada, who Vera had forgotten was even there, a silent bystander to the tragedy. Her impassiveness, so different compared to him, showing absolutely no remorse, made her wonder whether this kind of suffering was commonplace for her.

"This is madness," he said to her, looking around wildly in search of answers he knew weren't there. "We can't let this go on. Someone has to put a stop to this, somehow, if there's a chance—"

He was stopped abruptly, a hand pushing against his chest, Ada's voice commanding and unwavering. "I won't argue with you here, but you should realize that there's nothing you can do. The sooner you accept that, the easier it'll be." Her face softened slightly as she watched him grit his teeth in frustration, frowning and conflicted, running a hand through his hair.

Vera couldn't help but agree with her on that.

He turned back towards the source of the noise, facing his demons, whatever he believed them to be, head on, headstrong, fists balled by his sides in defiance, and then pointed a finger at the door and looking at Ada once more, his expression full of righteous rage, and underneath the surface, a simmering self-loathing. "I want to find out what’s happening here. And stop whoever’s behind it. Helping people like them… that’s why I joined the force. So please, just— tell me—us the truth, Ada." He paused for emphasis. "Where are we going? Who did this? What do they want?"

As he demanded an explanation, a shadow crossed over Ada's features and her lips curved down into a scowl, she simply exhaled deeply through her nose. "This is so much bigger than Raccoon City," she said quietly after a moment, "you have no idea." She continued to stare him down with an intensity that Vera didn't understand. "But trust me when I say, the deeper you dig into this mess, the closer you are to the grave."

If her warning was supposed to deter Leon in any way, it had the exact opposite effect - his expression darkened and a muscle jumped in his jaw. "Well," he started slowly, deliberately, enunciating every word clearly and confidently, "let's find out."

Ada smirked at him wryly before glancing around at their surroundings, "You asked for it. But once we get moving, I'll need you to listen to everything I have to say. Otherwise you're just a liability, so make up your mind - follow my lead or stay behind."

Leon nodded grimly, but Vera remained silent, lost in her own thoughts. This was suddenly about assisting an agent in her mission than going in to help Claire and find Sherry, Leon's newfound objectives aligning with Ada's perfectly.

Vera had to talk about this privately with him at some point.

She was done with this all. There was no more fire left in her for anything - least of all a covert operation led by someone she trusted about as far as she could throw them. All of the people who meant the world to her had perished, all of them taken from her one way or the other, and her will to fight back had gone out with Uncle Ken, had died like the light in Emmie's eyes. Was it that selfish of her to mourn their losses and not think of anybody else in a time of crisis? Did that make her a monster? Wanting to handpick Sherry and Claire from a roster of infected innocents and escape unscathed?

Worst of all, she couldn't find the answer, and that troubled her most of all.

She had to insist that they still focus on rescuing Sherry and leave this to Ada, someone who had professional training and experience in dealing with this kind of threat. It was not their responsibility, and they would possibly only be hindering her goal if they kept doing this. Even though she understood that Leon had to help anyone in danger, she couldn't jeopardize her chances of finding Sherry. The young girl needed their help. They couldn't just hand that over to Claire and call it a day and follow Ada.

The woman in question made a motion with her head for them to follow her, walking down the back street that would eventually lead to the entrance of metal scaffoldings leading down to the sinkhole. Her strides were measured yet quick, and the other two hurried after her without question, catching up to her in seconds, going down the stairs.

She opened with, "Ever heard of the Umbrella Corporation?" after a beat.

"Yeah," he replied, scratching behind his ear sheepishly. "They make cosmetics or something? Didn't they get sued for animal testing?"

Ada huffed a soundless laugh from her nose, pushing strands of black hair behind her left ear. "Yes... well, among other things," she replied drily, amusement out in the open. "The company's been around for decades, doing experiments behind closed doors and creating illegal viruses."

The trio came to an abrupt halt when they reached the ladder going down to the platform leading to the sewers, Vera stepped back from the rusty water she accidentally stepped into that instantly splashed around with a disgusted face while Leon shot Ada a bewildered double-take.

"Viruses?"

"C'mon," she urged, jumping down expertly to avoid having the dirty liquid reach her clean shoes and landing in a crouch, her athletic figure swinging down with practiced ease and elegance, and left the both to climb down the rungs. Vera trailed after her without hesitation, huffing at the sight, wishing she could be as graceful as the woman. Not wanting to lose sight of her, she wasted no time, not even sparing a look at Leon and just nodding at him to join, the steel creaking under her weight but holding on strong.

"This one right here." Ada explained - like whatever was done to cause this was already over with, that it had already taken root in the city. "Turning them into mindless, cannibalistic and indestructible monsters."

"Great. Did they name it the G-Virus, by the way?" Leon's sarcasm was thick, it didn't suit his soft voice. Vera chuckled weakly at it, glad that he was trying to keep the mood light by making a joke, and Ada smirked at him, one corner of her mouth lifted slightly higher than the other.

"How very observant of you."

No, wait a minute.

That wasn't right.

The virus turning people into undead wasn't called the G-Virus. It was the T-Virus.

If a normal civilian like her was able to find out there were different strains out there with her limited resources and only her skillset at her disposal, an FBI agent would definitely be informed about the whole situation beforehand. If there were any existing viruses that were known to be fatal, such as the G-Virus, the government would surely keep tabs on its creators, researchers and distributors.

So if Ada knew about the distinction between G and T, then why would she lie to Leon?

As the three made their way past the piles of cones and sandbags strewn across the area, avoiding them deftly with little trouble, Vera picked up pieces of conversation in between their dodging moves, trying her hardest to concentrate despite her racing brain.

"My mission is to take down Umbrella’s entire operation." Ada clarified further to Leon, leaping onto the large yellow pipes, climbing up one step at a time. Vera frowned. Take down an entire organization? Why couldn't they do that in court? They should've had enough evidence to sue the company for everything they've been doing to people in Raccoon City. One singular agent wouldn't be enough to singlehandedly take on a multi-million dollar conglomerate like Umbrella. This just didn't add up. What did take down mean, anyway? What would she be able to accomplish? Vera initially thought she was here to collect evidence, but Ada was being vague about everything. What else was there to do?

Unless...

Unless she was here to destroy everything.

But that would mean... getting rid of the evidence, not obtaining it.

Oh fuck. Oh, fuck. This was a federal agent. Government agents did things differently. They would want to eliminate every piece of tangible, irrefutable proof that Umbrella existed, to remove them from history, erase them completely. This could be a cover-up. To eliminate leads that connected the government with Umbrella's corruption and human experimentation and to eradicate them permanently. That would explain why Ada was here alone, in the city during the outbreak, instead of the whole team coming in with armored vehicles and equipment to evacuate citizens and cleanse the streets.

That could be why she kept urging Leon, a police officer, to turn a blind eye on all of this, so she could finish this as fast as possible without interruption.

There was one way to test her theory. She would have to try.

"Hey, Agent..." she piped up, walking alongside the other woman. "Why so late? You know, the first reports of infection came around a week ago. Why didn't the feds move in immediately?"

It didn't seem like Ada was paying attention to her, too busy watching their steps and keeping watch. For the first few moments, Vera thought the question fell on deaf ears, until Ada slowed down to fall into the same rhythm as her, keeping a steady pace at the back of their small group as Leon ran ahead.

She sighed before responding curtly, "We always seem to be late. Ironic, isn't it? Since our job is stopping evil from taking root."

That sounded way too earnest than it should have been. Vera was expecting her to be defensive, or maybe shrug it off with a dismissive one-liner. This wasn't helping her case. "I... suppose. But, uh, where is everyone else?"

Ada shrugged, still refusing to meet her eye. "Things got messy real quick."

Yeah, okay. Vera tried, but Ada was adamant about this. Fine, she could work around it. This was a professional, alright. She knew what she was doing.

They finished descending down to the entrance of the sewers as the conversation between her and the agent ended, the tunnel in the size of an alley leading deep into the heart of the labyrinth, the area was damp and dark and moist, the waft of mildew, rot, and other smells Vera had never smelled before filled her nostrils, and it was suffocating, making the air thick. She coughed harshly into her forearm to get the gunk out of her lungs.

"Based on what you said, the sewer seems fitting," Leon spoke up after they entered the passage, sniffing his nose loudly.

Ada hummed in agreement, pulling the flashlight out of her vest, shining it down the hallways, and walked forward, gesturing for them to follow her again.

Before they began to make their way deeper into the bowels of the city, Vera tugged on Leon's sleeve discreetly, drawing his attention to her.

She jerked her chin in Ada's direction. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure," he nodded, casting a glance at the woman, who paid it no mind as they put some distance between them. "Is everything okay?"

When they stopped in front of a puddle of disgusting liquid Vera didn't bother naming, she lowered her voice into a hushed whisper, leaning in so only he could hear.

"Look, I know how hard this is for you. And I understand you want to do what's right for this place — help those you can save, make sure the ones responsible pay for what they've done. But the FBI agent obviously has her orders. If she wants us to tag along to get her job done faster, fine, but that doesn't mean we're obligated to stay with her." She saw his features contorting into one of apprehension, and she rushed to finish her sentence. "We really need to go for Claire and Sherry now. The longer we're out here, the greater the chance of them getting hurt and worse. There's no guarantee we'll ever make it on time even if we go straight for them."

She wanted him to agree with her.

She needed him to agree with her.

Instead, he pressed his lips together firmly in disapproval, turning his face away from her and clenching his jaw. She watched the vein on the side of his temple throb rapidly as he seemed to come to a conclusion of his own. When he faced her once again, the determination shone bright like a blazing fire, his decision set in stone. "We can do both."

Vera swallowed down the protests lodged in her throat, trying hard not to yell or break something out of frustration.

"We don't have the luxury or time for that right now. She won't do for us what you're prepared to do for her." She inhaled deeply through her nose, counting to three in her head and letting it out slowly through gritted teeth. No. The only way she'd be able to convince him to change his mind was by making him see that they would never succeed if they stuck themselves to a mission that was not meant to be theirs and was so beyond their capabilities. "There's simply no way in hell that she would assist us and prioritize a couple of random citizens above her official order, Leon. I mean, I would love for her to, but she literally told us not even an hour ago that we would only hinder her with our presence."

Her words fell on deaf ears, apparently, as he just smiled, actually fucking smiled at her. "Just you watch. Trust me on this."

With that, he patted her shoulder reassuringly and spun around to catch up with Ada, leaving Vera to glare after him in disbelief, the lights above flickering in tandem with her blinking as if to say, "Hey, you also seein' this?"

She squeezed her eyes shut. She should trust him. God, she wanted to trust him, she wanted to have faith in him so badly, because he was so eager to make things right and fix this hellscape. All because this woman had given him hope there was a possibility.

However, her gut had been screaming at her that there was something sketchy about this. But Leon was so damn hopeful, she couldn't crush it.

And who was she to take that from him?

Vera threw her arm in the air and then shoved it into the pockets of the jacket he'd given her, stomping after them, deeper into the dark tunnels, throwing yet another bait in Ada's general direction. "So, this leads right into Umbrella’s secret facility?"

But Leon, unknowingly, blocked her probing by addressing a question of his own. "Sewers are run by the city. How could they have a facility… without the authorities knowing?"

This would be the hundredth time today she'd be thinking, Bless his soul, about him. Even after finding out about Irons' corruption, he still believed. She tried not to roll her eyes out of fondness, the world from his perspective had to be so beautiful, leaders and those in power always righteous and moral, and everything bad happens without anyone meaning it to. Adorable. Vera would have preferred a world he got to stay like this, living inside a cocoon of idealism that protected his innocence rather than exposing the cruelty and coldbloodedness of the people controlling the strings behind the scenes.

Ada flashed her flashlight across the murky walls of the passage, not responding immediately as she scanned the perimeter for possible danger. "Welcome to corporate America. Umbrella’s controlled Raccoon City for years."

Leon visibly deflated, his face falling slightly as he took the news in. "Oh."

"Absolutely not. You are not jumping into sewage," Vera scowled, hands planted firmly on her hips as she stared down Leon, daring him to challenge her. This man was insane, and he would definitely jump in whatever the fuck there was in that disgusting, vile river of waterlogged garbage and waste, and die a horrible death of hepatitis and dysentery. Even a little cut could get infected down there, and a dip in that filth would be the end of him. Fuck, she was feeling a bit queasy just from the thought.

They were sitting ducks at the end of a steel catwalk ending in a drop into a tunnel nobody should take a swim in. There were no more routes for them to proceed through, and jumping into that would be suicide, there was no way in hell she was gonna allow that.

Leon frowned up at her, lifting his shoulders up to his ears, feigning innocence and acting as if he didn't see how stupid of a suggestion it was to jump down there like some sort of superhero in a B-movie.

"Unfortunately, it's the only way forward," Ada pointed out drily from behind her, sounding a bit ticked off, and then huffed impatiently. "Wouldn't even be surprised to find out that they designed this part specifically to kill whoever might be trying to sabotage the underground research lab."

The rookie officer pushed himself to his feet, dusting off invisible dirt from his trousers in a lame attempt to be nonchalant, sticking his chest out like a pufferfish. "No better way than to get to the bottom of things than headfirst."

"No, there is a better way! We can just backtrack and find another way in!" Vera exclaimed shrilly, raising her hands up incredulously, skin now damp from sweat instead of the rain, waving them around for emphasis. Leon shook his head, stepping closer to the ledge to peer down, and her heart clenched at the sight. He was actually considering it.

She jumped in front of him, cutting his vision off and poking him hard in his pectoral over his bulletproof vest, the pressure applied sending ripples into the flesh of his torso. "Stop, I'm serious. Let's look around some more— like, like—" Zeroing in on a vent grate with an opening large enough for them to fit through, she ran towards it and gave a quick tug, it rattled in her grip and slid sideways smoothly, with little noise. She turned back to him, gesturing towards the rectangular frame enthusiastically, almost bouncing on her heels in excitement. "—like this one right here, we could slip in! It has to lead somewhere!"

Ada regarded Vera with interest, tilting her head to the side at an angle in contemplation. The young PI stood still, trying not to blink in front of the agent, hoping she found this viable alternative more acceptable than diving headlong into a death trap, fingers crossed for herself.

Leon's lips stretched into a smile, softening around the edges as his expression thawed, he strode over to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, patting gently in poorly concealed excitement. Her breathing stopped for a second. She forced herself to gulp in air as subtly as possible to maintain her composure and not start gasping like a fish out of water, hyper aware of the body heat seeping into her flesh from the point where his fingers touched her bare skin. She flushed from the touch, turning rigid in the span of a millisecond and standing awkwardly as if she was carved out of stone.

"Nice find," he praised warmly, beaming down at her with what seemed to be pride. If this was the reaction she got out of him with that one move, she would gladly keep finding exits and escape routes every few minutes.

He then turned his attention to Ada, hopeful to hear her agree to this arrangement, and she didn't disappoint, letting out a faint sigh in reluctant acceptance.

"Good enough," she mumbled under her breath, seemingly quizzical about it for whatever reason. "Let's move."

Vera wanted to let out a sigh of relief, but refrained from doing so, instead opting to plaster a smug grin on her face, basking in Leon's appreciative gaze.

The trio crawled through the narrow ventilation shaft, each step careful, afraid the slightest miscalculation might cause the metal to crack and cave in. It didn't occur to Vera before, but the constant danger lurking around at every turn brought their survival rate from 40% to a staggering 1%, making it a miracle that they had come this far.

All it took was a snap of the wrist, or a loose screw. They could have easily slipped from the platforms they've traversed or missed a jump or fallen into an abyss. Any moment they could all perish, or one of them would become separated from the group, or separated permanently, in a most gruesome manner. They could be eaten alive or dismembered into chunks of meat while they screamed themselves raw, nobody close enough to hear or see them dying.

Was Vera supposed to be panicking? She probably should be. However, instead of fear, a rush of adrenaline washed over her entire being and spread throughout her system, and she felt like a high school student sneaking out for a late night drive with friends who brought alcohol along for the ride.

Their progress came to a halt when the tunnel began to widen in width and height so that they could at least crouch, revealing an opening at its end, light streaming through the cracks of the metallic barrier blocking the way forward.

In perfect synchronization, Leon's hand flew to his holster, flicking the safety button open in one swift movement, index finger poised above the trigger, while Ada knelt in the corner opposite to him, gun at the ready with the barrel directed towards the source of the light, one knee supporting her weight on the ground. In silent communication, she pointed at herself and gestured towards Leon in a sequence with two fingers, the cop nodding affirmatively, understanding the message loud and clear, before proceeding to crouch lower and slither to the front of the group and flattened himself against the wall.

Ada gave a count of five with her free hand, jaw locked and firm, and when she curled her pointer finger inwards to her palm, she yanked the blockade, sliding it sideways to the end of the bar and peeked through the space, lowering her aim carefully with no signs of a threat visible to her, letting out a barely audible huff.

"Okay, all good."

After ensuring there was nothing lying in wait to ambush them as soon as the exit opened wide, Leon hopped out with a bounce in his step, brandishing his shotgun this time, scanning his surroundings for any movement and finding none, pointing the muzzle in various directions, left and right.

Vera followed closely behind with a shaky breath, shaking off her nerves before hoisting herself out of the passageway, glancing around. They had stepped into the middle of a long corridor, which was particularly well-lit compared to the places they've seen previously.

"Left or right first?" She asked the other two, since there were bloody streaks on the floor leading towards an elevator down the hall to the left, and even more construction materials piled against the walls, cones and structural steel, along with bags of cement. Another large ventilation duct was positioned above them on the ceiling, which was big enough to use as an emergency exit if they found themselves in danger.

"Right," Ada decided, jerking her head that way and striding across, checking each individual nook and cranny with care, signaling them to stick close behind her. More cement bags, and a couple metal drums later, they turned the corner out of the corridor into a catwalk, only to find themselves at the very end of presumably the same river of waste Vera wanted to avoid in the first place. The stench that hit her nose as soon as she stepped foot into the area threatened to knock her out if she stayed any longer.

She pulled the neckline of her borrowed jacket to cover her nose, trying desperately to draw in a decent lungful of air, not bothering to conceal the grimace on her face anymore, triumph overcoming her repulsion at getting to take a breather from that vile odor. "You two owe me a thanks for avoiding that shit. Literally."

Leon, being the adorable ray of sunshine that he is, responded instantly to her teasing, flashing her a cute smile, cheeks dimpled. "Thank you for saving our asses from sepsis."

And not a drop of sarcasm in there. Vera could almost picture him using his sincerity to butter up his superiors and earn a raise or a promotion. Unwittingly, of course.

"So let me get this straight: Umbrella sells the things we've seen so far to who? Our military? Somebody else’s?" Leon asked Ada, who was leaning against the opposite wall of the elevator they're in, arms crossed.

"They don’t sell the things, they sell the viruses that make them." The agent corrected, her speaking was more leveled than Leon's, easy to miss among the grating sound of the elevator descending. She shifted her stance so that one foot was planted on the wall to brace herself against it. Those heels had to be uncomfortable, right? After spending so much time on them, at least? Though Ada had not broken an ankle, let alone stumbled walking on grates and unstable walkways, so she probably knew what she was doing. "To anybody who can bid the most for it."

"Sounds like you know a lot about the buyers."

"I work for them."

Vera couldn’t help it, she snorted at the deadpan response Ada delivered, quickly covering her mouth with a hand to mask her laughter, seeking Leon's face to see his reaction. Brow crinkled in surprise, and he whipped around to gape openly at the agent bored as ever.

"My condolences," She blurted out as an afterthought, wiping off the imaginary tears threatening to escape. "Who would have thought? The U.S. government does business with bioterrorists. Sounds like a win-win situation, am I right? Everyone gets something. Until one of those outbreaks happen on your own soil. Or somebody slips the wrong thumb drive into your own computer. Then you have an apocalypse on your hands. Shit happens."

Ada was blank as a clean sheet of paper. "Indeed. That's why I'm here."

"Of course, Miss Confidential."

As if on cue, the elevator slowed down to a full stop and dinged at the same time, doors creaking open agonizingly slowly, revealing a small room leading to a lone door directly ahead. There were no other corridors, nothing else of interest in their line of vision. It looked to be a machine room of some sorts, with exposed pipes lined up next to each other running vertically and horizontally, going left and right as far as the eye could see. The door opened to a smaller room — a passage? — with one more door to go through, and Vera could only imagine the purpose of this smaller room was, and then that door opened to —

A blonde woman kneeling over a body sprawled on the floor, contemplating and inspecting, muttering to herself, and Vera caught the ending of her sentence only: "Definitely William's handiwork."

Leon stopped mid-step, aiming his shotgun towards the unknown entity, shoulders hunched forward slightly. He didn't seem to trust this new addition to their little party, but then again, she seemed harmless, and he lowered his weapon halfheartedly. The woman hadn't even noticed their arrival, and upon further scrutiny, Vera realized her focus was solely on the person laying supine. Her clothes were somewhat similar to that of a researcher, judging by her white coat, the ID badge pinned to her chest reading "Annette Birkin", her pale skin was practically glowing under the fluorescent lights illuminating her figure, and her platinum blonde hair cascaded down over her shoulder, shielding her features partially, although they were sharp and angular.

"Not much time... Need to dispose of it..." The woman — Annette, stood up, brushing the dust off her coat with her right hand, still clueless about their presence, and movement in the corner of her peripheral got Vera's attention. In the chest of the corpse she was crouching over earlier. First, she thought it was the motion of breathing, but no, something was moving inside. Then, it pulsed, the organ (liver?) inflating to twice the size, expanding like a balloon and exploding, spilling a gross mixture of blood and something blue that looked like a drug, fluid oozing out of its ruined tissue, some kind of parasite coming to life from the innards of its former host.

And that's when Annette flicked a lighter in her fingers and dropped it right onto the monster, causing it to catch fire immediately, along with the corpse.

The smell. Dear God, the fucking smell. A putrid, sickening stench of burning flesh, human flesh, mixed with chemicals assaulted her nostrils, nearly making her gag and retch in horror and disgust as the fire lapped up the thing, setting it alight and melting it to... not even ashes, just to... a sculpture of it. Its body remained intact in form, but grayed and shriveled as the black smoke drifted upwards and dissipated into the air.

Sweet hells. These Umbrella experiments sure didn't skip out on the creativity department, did they?

Leon stepped between Ada and Vera, pushing both women away from the flaming monstrosity towards the opposite wall and raised the shotgun, ready to pull the trigger at the thing if it lunged. "Ma'am, I'm Officer Leon Kennedy with RPD, please get away from that."

This time, it seemed their combined presence had caught the scientist's attention, as she spun around in shock. Vera was fairly certain she wasn't expecting visitors, especially from three strangers, let alone law enforcement.

The woman pursed her lips into a thin line, taking a deep breath as her gaze shifted rapidly from the three figures gathered together to the grotesque abomination, and then she turned on her heel without answering, leaving Leon bewildered.

"Hey!" He exclaimed indignantly, gesturing wildly to Ada and Vera to stay behind while he gave chase after her. "We don't mean any harm!"

Harm? Really? All of them were armed. Even Annette, apparently, as Vera spotted the glint of metal protruding out of her hip, she must have had a handgun there.

"We're here for Sherry!" She heard him yelling out as she struggled to keep pace with him, slipping past the burning, now-dead, corpse to join Leon's side.

And that's what got Annette to stop. She whirled around to face the pair, face pinched, boring holes into Leon's skull. "Sherry? This is the second—what do you want?"

She spoke in such a biting tone, and her demeanor changed as if someone had flipped a switch. Gone was the woman who paid no attention to their presence, who was focused on disposing of a creature. Her attention was laser-pointed at Leon, staring him down as if he had just made an accusation against her character.

"We just want to help find her," Leon responded in a placating manner.

"Find Sherry?" Annette repeated, scoffing, clearly not believing a single word coming from the rookie's mouth. "My daughter is safe at home."

Leon and Vera shared a baffled look, each searching for an answer from the other. Annette didn't know? But Claire said she met her — and that the woman was more interested in finding William rather than protecting Sherry.

"Ma'am," Leon started slowly, as if he was trying to reason with a hostile threat, stepping closer to her and trying to keep his voice low in hopes he would be able to reason with her. "Your daughter is here right now. She's in serious danger—"

Vera witnessed the moment everything clicked for the woman. It was written all over Annette's face; realization flashed like lightning across her facial muscles. Her expression went slack, lips parting into an o shape as if trying to speak, yet no words came out, only a choked, strained gasp, eyes darting around in pure panic. "William."

Without giving them a chance to react or respond, she took off once more, footsteps echoing throughout the hallway she disappeared into. Vera threw up her hands in exasperation. They were having difficulty keeping track of all the people they came across. Why could no one wait for them for one moment to finish speaking before running off?

Leon took off in a sprint behind Annette, with Vera hot on his heels, chasing after the two. When they rounded the corner, the scientist was already at the end, punching numbers on a padlock on the double doors to activate the security mechanism. With a loud click, the electronic lock gave way, and she pushed one open, slamming it shut behind her.

Vera skidded to a halt and bent over to pant, lungs burning and head spinning, the lack of sufficient oxygen making her feel like she was about to keel over and die on the spot. As she struggled for breath, Leon stepped forward and jiggled the door handles furiously, grunting in frustration.

He groaned, slamming his fist onto the metal frame in defeat. "God damn it!"

"Claire," Vera croaked, clearing her throat after swallowing some phlegm in her windpipe. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth due to dehydration. She motioned with her hands for him to take out his radio and contact Claire, and he nodded vigorously, grasping the device and flipping the switch frantically, tapping into the speakers.

"Claire, you read me?"

Her voice came through after a series of static, tinged with concern. "Hey, Leon! You guys alright?"

"We made it to the sewers," He explained, exhaling sharply, and a happy noise Claire made was caught by the radio. "Any updates on Sherry?"

A pause. "Nothing since I last told you. But we should try to regroup, if possible."

"Sounds like a plan, but there's trouble, too. We just met Annette Birkin — it seemed like she didn't know Sherry was down here."

"That can't be true, though!" Claire protested on the other end. "I talked to her earlier, that woman didn't care!"

It wasn't the time for this. "You know what, the details aren't important. Point is, we lost her. She closed the door with a code, so we can't get through right now. We have to find a way around."

"Ughh—okay. Anything else I should know?"

"We came here with an FBI Agent, she's—"

Vera and Leon turned around in tandem in the direction of where they came from, only to realize Ada was nowhere to be found. Her footsteps were completely absent, neither light nor heavy, not a trace of her whatsoever.

[fumikosushi]

Mentions of parental death under cut.

I haven't really talked to that many people about all the things that have gone on surrounding my mom's death. I talked to maybe two people, but not a whole lot. I have a hard time talking to people directly about the things I'm going through (trauma has led me to having difficulty confiding those things in others, but I'm trying to do better). For now, the easiest way for me to do that is just by making a post where I throw things into the void.

Even before my mom passed away, my family was being absolutely horrible. My sister, my mom's sister, her brother, and the man she was staying with were just fucking awful. I would also like to point out that none of these people had anything to do with her until she was dying. My sister visited not once while we lived here for 10+ years until she heard my mom was dying. My brother visited some and with his it's different because his schedule doesn't allow it, but my sister flat out refused to speak to my mom unless she could con my mom into giving her drug money (for crack and heroin). My sister drained my mom's bank account this way, mind you. Took advantage of my mom's desire to help her to try and be a good mom and my sister lied to her for drug money.

When they were here the few days before she passed people treated both her and myself terribly. With me, it was nothing new. My family has already been pretty fucking awful. My only real problem with my brother is his refusal to acknowledge anything that happened being fucked up, but I still might end up opting into going no contact with him too like I have my father and sister.

The entire time I was there, even though I was literally silent and minding my own business, I was just.. bullied the whole fucking time. My sister and my mom's sister would whisper to each other while looking at me and laugh or they would try and say things to provoke or gaslight me into a reaction (I never gave them the reaction they wanted). My mom's brother spent the whole time drunk and fighting with people. Again, I constantly have comments made about me despite the fact I literally never spoke unless spoken to. Even then, I didn't say much.

There was a point where my mom wasn't really responsive. You know, she wasn't really.. there. Like she was alive, but she was literally skin and bones with next to no meat or fat left on her body. She couldn't speak. You could hear her struggling for air. What does my sister do? She calls my dad who horribly abused her for years and lets him just say what he wants in her ear while she's unable to respond and literally fucking dying. Like.. who makes someone listen to someone who help ruined their life as they're dying? That's just.. sick. I genuinely feel as though my mother died feeling completely unloved. I won't lie. I honestly can't believe that she didn't and it fucking sucks because it haunts me. Like, how is she supposed to feel loved when she's suffering so much and everyone around her is just continuing to abuse her? These people couldn't even respect her after she died either.

We still haven't had a service for her. Her brother is in charge and that always means whatever he's in charge of? It's never happening. He's always too busy getting plastered and telling everyone how shit and terrible they are like he's even the slightest bit delightful to deal with himself. Not to mention.. my mom's abuser has her ashes (the guy she was staying with) and he refuses to let me have any of her ashes. I feel like if anyone deserves to have them, it's me - I'm the only one who has ever been here for her. But no, of course, I'm being fucked over and not included in anything. If they have a service, I'm sure I'm not even going to be invited. I am so tired of being hated by these people just for existing as a disabled person (this is literally why they hate me - they're all ableist af and don't believe disabilities exist).

So I go to my boyfriend's to try and deal with all of this and my mom's abuser is whining at me to hurry up and send photos of my mom I took from her house like he has ever given me what he owes me. My mom's ashes. I told the guy I'd do it when I got back to keep the peace, but God, I already know it doesn't matter how civil I am despite hating these people. I will still be excluded. So I've decided to give them diddly fucking squat. I lost a fuck ton of things to do with my mom because I couldn't afford a truck for her things. No one could find it in their heart to just help me move anything (my place is literally 10 minutes away from hers) and we would have paid them back too! But no. No help. So I lost 90% of my mother's belongings because they're all in the fucking dump now because the landlady threw everything away before I could get a truck.

And like.. the day my mom died my siblings were just like "aye we're leaving" not hours later and I'm just like ??? That's so.. crazy. Our mom just died and you're just.. gonna go back to South Carolina?? Like yall aren't gonna make sure I'm okay or nothing? Just "oh yeah, here's the tv mom left" and then you fuck off? These people baffle me.

I'm home now and tbh I'm still not okay at all and God, I don't want anyone to tell me shit like 'it gets better' or whatever because I'm so tired of hearing it. As I said, I just needed to throw my feelings into the void. I'm not wanting some pity party or whatever. This isn't even everything going on right now, but this is the stuff to do with my mom.

[eldritch-spouse]

Just read that one post on how to REALLY escape from Breg and YIKES the hurt on that one. Like, the dudes getting captured and taken back to the same hell hole he escaped from begging and pleading for YOUR help only to see you just. There. With the other staff. LIKE MY GOD. Dude when i read that i was like YIKESS. That musta stung. Bad.

Like I remember reading another post bout what would happen if Breg was recaptured and how he literally killed himself while thinking of you and how happy he was that he met you and managed to live his life. I’m gonna give props to you cause you ended that post PERFECTLY. How in his final moments he’s thinking of how beautiful you are and how lucky that is like thats fucking heartbreaking.

So imagine when he was getting recaptured, he fucking sees you just talkin to the staff so calmly and the real choker is how you look so… relieved? Like I can’t say this enough but OUCH. Can’t tell what his reaction would be but it’s hurt. A lot of hurt. Like I’m sure he’d be too sad and heartbroken and betrayed to be angry. Maybe angry later, But now? In disbelief and is absolutely devastated. Like all this time you were lying, faking everything? When he thought you loved him when really you just put up with him hoping for the day to get rid of him.

That’s so fucken awful. Cause like ya said (i think) he’d rather die than go back to the facility. So no doubt he’s gonna off himself again all while thinking of what you did. Like god that’s a real stinker. Can’t imagine how that felt. Mans gonna be a whole explosion of emotions, Too overwhelmed to handle it all because he’s just thinking of you you you.

Overall, Props to you. You really know how to write some angsty shit. Like genuinely you write really well done! Because truthfully I’ve been binging to Yer Breg tag and i loved him and all your posts! Can’t wait to get a start on your other works, Got my eye on Morell so i might check him out later lol

Ah, this post and this one.

TW: Heavy angst, mentions of murder and suicide.

It would take so long for him to process it, it really would. One moment, his brain starts trying to close that bubble all over again, trying to erase these last few parts of your relationship and pretend that you really did love him, that what you had was real and beautiful- But then, then this wave of endless fury just consumes him, and the need to kill you keeps rising.

If Breg ever got his hands on you, it would be the ugliest scene imaginable. He's sick over the fact that he can't stop craving your love yet knows what a piece of shit you really are- There's a good chance he'd fuck you to death. Fortunately, he's never making it out again. Count your blessings. And thanks to his initial outbursts courtesy of your betrayal, he'll probably remain restrained all the time, so he can't hurt anyone including himself. Suicide isn't an option anymore.

Not without his teeth, with a stump of tail, declawed and perpetually chained to the wall even inside his own isolated cell. Swallowing your own tongue is a lot harder than it looks, you know? His days are spent wailing, haunted by visions of you even as those hellish fucking pumps drain his cocks for hours at a time. If he had the opportunity to see the other groups of captive breeders, subject M197 would let himself fall to the floor and wait for them to viciously tear him apart, but he knows he'll never be given that mercy.

Even if Breg has dreams of dragging your open skull through miles of asphalt-

At the end of the day, he knows he'll do anything if it meant having you back, you finally accepting him. Everyday his body collects new scars and deformities from his futile attempts at fighting back, his sanity peels apart like rotten wallpaper, and he knows that if you didn't love him then you'll never love him now... But it's the only thing he sees when he spaces out anyway.

Because his brain won't move on, refuses to. Delusion has always been his cope, why would this be any different?

[Thenk! It's always been easier for me to write angst than fluff, I like keeping things dark :7. Morell is one of my favorites, hope you like that nutty fuck.]

[shipcestuous]

You're comment about stories focusing a lot on uncle/nibling (love that word, btw!) relationships until they actually turn out to be parent/child made me think of a non-incestuous example in His Dark Materials. (All canons, it's important to the plot to ever be lost in adaptation.)

At the beginning of the story, main character Lyra Belaqua is (platonically) smitten with her uncle, Lord Asriel. She's been told she's an orphan and her parents were Asriel's brother and sister-in-law, and due to their family connection and his obligation to their deceased relatives, Asriel kindly pulled some strings to have her raised and given a full education in Jordan College, not taking care for her himself but having her be around important scholars and their research since a very young age. Lord Asriel himself isn't around too much, being busy with his own research and his adventures around the world, but besides being Lyra's benefactor, he's intelligent and cunning, charismatic, strong-willed, fierce, and aloof in a bit of a "noble rogue" way, with an air of mystery and danger about him, so whenever he comes visiting, Lyra is immediately drawn to him and trying to get his attention. They're actually rather similar, with her being also very stubbon, resourceful, quick-witted and good at thinking on her feet, with an indipendent and rebellious streak. As the plot of the first book/movie/first season of the HBO show goes on, there's at least two separate occasion when she has reason to believe he's in danger, and her first instinct is to come save him.

However, the truth about their familiar relationship is revealed well before the start of the second installment of the story and, suffice to day, even if she still cares about him, Lyra is not happy at all about Lord Asriel lying to her through her whole life. Them only reuniting after the fact and Asriel being devastated and furious at her sight because he thinks for a moment he'll have to sacrifice her in the experiment that will kick off his grand plan doesn't help... neither does him being relieved to realize she's brought her best friend along and deciding to sacrifice him instead. (For extra context: Lyra's just been through hell and back to save said best friend and a lot of other children along with him. Even later, his death at the hands of her own father, after she herself caused them to meet through her attempts to help them both, as well as the knowledge of what Asriel is willing to do for his ideals, haunts her.)

An extra layer of complication is also added by Lyra finding out the identity of her real mother, Mrs. Coulter, around the same time as all of this goes down. When Mrs. Coulter first shows up in her life as a sort of mentor figure, Lyra is immediately enchanted by her. Mrs. Coulter is an independent woman with important connections in a very religious and patriarchal world, she's beautiful and elegant and refined but also well-educated, passionate and unafraid to speak her mind, witty, and well-respected. It's been ages since I read the book, but I'm pretty sure that, before she learns the truth, Lyra actually fantasizes about her and Asriel meetting, falling in love, getting married, and adopting her or at least taking her on their joint travels around the world. However, under her perfectly put together appearance, Mrs. Coulter hides a dark, unstable side. When she finds out she lied to her, Lyra must confront that and the fact that her mother has been involved in some genuinely horrifying things... things that would have harmed Lyra herself in a very direct manner, if Mrs. Coulter had not intervened at the last second. And even then, Lyra is faced with the devastating fact she only intervened to save her own daughter, and was absolutely willing to let so many other children go through the same process because she counted them as acceptable losses while trying to achieve her goals.

The backstory to Lyra's parentage and its secret is that Lord Asriel and Mrs. Coulter met when they were younger and fell in love, drawn to each other's passion and intellect, but she was already married at the time. Their affair resulted in baby Lyra, but when Mrs. Coulter's husband realized that "his" daughter actually looked a lot like a Belaqua, Mrs. Coulter faked Lyra's death and entrusted her to Lord Asriel, who in turn hid her away in a country house he owned with a nanny. However, Mrs. Coulter's husband eventually found out and stormed the secret house. Luckily, Asriel engaged him in a duel before he could get to Lyra, and finally killed him. After that, with the scandal brought to light by her husband's death and her reputation and her reputation ruined, Mrs. Coulter refused to have anything more to do with her former lover or their daughter.

After rebuilding her standing as a dignified high society woman and academic, and becoming involved in the thing mentioned above, the one actively targeting and harming children, Mrs. Coulter ended up thinking back to the daughter she herself had given away, worrying about her safety and, perhaps, even wondering if things could have gone differently. So, years later, she tries to keep Lyra close to keep an eye on her and reconnect with her in her own way, still with revealing their true relationship to each other. But while Asriel is distant and close-lipped about anything too personal, Mrs. Coulter deals with the need to hide everything by developing a possessive, even obsessive attitude towards her that gets increasingly uncomfortable (at least once involving violence, another time essentially keeping Lyra prisoner) as the story goes on.

And yet, at the end of the day, both Lord Asriel and Mrs. Coulter deeply love Lyra, even if not in healthy ways. Their ending, for all their high ideals, selfish actions, and dramatic gestures, is agreeing to sacrifice themselves for Lyra, knowing they're going not just to die but to destroy their souls, but accepting that fate for the chance to save their daughter.

Both relationships are incredibly intense and, while I've never shipped either (the age difference would be a bit much for me, and Mrs Coulter in particular crosses a line at one point that squicks me out beyond repair, I'm afraid) but if it turned out other people shipped one or both, I'd honestly just say "oh, yeah, sure, I get it."

I'm rather familiar with this series. I read the books when they came out, so I'm pretty rusty on those details, but I've seen the movie a few times, and I watched the first season of the series from a few years ago.

This is another great example of a prominent "uncle" that turned out to be the father. Although this might be one situation where I'm OK with it.

I've always shipped Asriel/Mrs. Coulter a lot, so I was kind of stuck on that and never really looked at the relationships with Lyra in that way. But it's really interesting that the dynamics with both parents are Lyra's fascination with a glamorous figure. And then, as you described, slowly learning some horrifying truths about what they are each willing to do.

Particularly with Lord Asriel, when he comes to visit, it's like a celebrity that's coming. She's shy and excited and all that.

[wh1zz3rbr0wn]

me ranting on the marvin triolgy i unironically love the marvin trilogy so much?? in trousers makes no sense. esp the end song/ begginning depends on what like version ur listening too. i heard this theory that in trousers is actually marvin being hypnotised by mendle in therapy and it would make sense!! like it'd explain the inaccuracies between it and falsettos. Like Trina having two kids, as mentioned in your lips and me, 'the oldest drink wine the baby's wailing', while in falsettos Jason is the only child known. And in you gotta die sometime when whizzer says i dont smoke but in whizzer going down marvin says 'he takes me in his arms and he lights *another* cigarette.' Then i love how they re used im breaking down from in trousers and using it in the 2016 revival of it. imo it fits better in falsettos because you go more in depth about both trina and whizzer charaters. In trousers musicals actually is so bloody good??? like every song is great, my favourite song is marvin's giddy seizures. It highlights marvin's suicidal attempts and how it doesn't get noticed unless he acts out., then the whole thing just sounds so good. i wish the lesbians got more screen time though because theyre so radicial. every scene they're in they just light the stage up. I love how all the charaters are wrote. I would like to know if in high school ladies at 5 o'clock/ the r--e of mrs goldurg. are we meant to take that literally? im assuming we are because marvin says something along the lines of for my 14th birthday i was hoping you could show me the wonders of the bed. i think we would be, and if we are what the fuck? like i know marvin is an incredibly abusive person before about time but jesus christ. i didnt expect that. now i do adore that marvin's abusive behaviours are acknowledged and reprimanded unlike another musical that attempts to do something alike to falsettos, rent, where all characters have abusive behaviours. i wont dwell on the failures of rent too much because this isn't about rent. I have saw that 2004 college production amd i find it hilarious that in the thrill of first love that marvin drops whizzer, i hope that was scripted because that seems like such a Marvin behaviour. at the same time it would also be funny if it wasnt. either way i like it. anyway in marvin at the physiatrist, in the og off brodway cast, mendle says its queer mr marvin which is so funny to me. on the topic of the og off brodway cast, i find it fun how chip zien played both marvin and mendle in in trousers and march of the falsettos/falsettoland. marvin in in trousers and mendle in MotF/falsettoland respectably. I genuinely adore everything about falsettos. the openeing number is such a good opening song, i dont think ive heard a better one. Then my father's a homo always makes me laugh and i just love how jason doesn't hate his father for being gay, its how his homosexuality tore the family apart. Then this had better come to a stop is such agood number. i love how in the og of brodway run of it the late again sounds like yapping. then the way that trina and whizzer sort of bond over marvin's abusive tendencies is heartbreaking. A tight knit family reprise is a great song again. then the chess game, marvin my guy you know you agreed to let whizzer win cmon now. i never wanted to love you is heartbreaking. and the games i play makes me violently sob. march of the falsettos made no sense to me until i realised that it was a song to remind you that acts of affection are NOT masculine at all. i honestly dont get why act one didnt end with i never wanted to love you, but father to son is heartwarming compared to the previous songs. i love the second act so much. marvin has done everything to change himself yet the love of his life is stripped away from him. it is like a reminder that due to his past actions he can never like fully be a good person. he changed. he did im not putting that down, but his actions can always haunt him.

[jones-friend]

Lol. Lmao.

I started watching One Tree Hill bc what I saw through my now estranged sister was absurd, and bc of the John Oliver clip where a dog high on marijuana eats Dan Scott’s replacement heart. I first watched all the finales back to back to back then decided to give the whole thing a run through.

In one tree hill a number of souls are shackled within the purgatory of Tree Hill, a place that causes characters to stagnate professionally and emotionally while giving illusions of growth through platitudes and unearned emotional moments. You cannot escape Tree Hill. Death isn’t even enough to escape Tree Hill. You can fall onto the pitcher plant but you cannot climb out. You are one with Tree Hill.

This is a show with no less than three serial killer arcs, a show so hungry for drama it consumes every teen drama concept before the second season leaving it nowhere to go, a show with two near fatal bridge accidents, with real ghosts that help and haunt, where teenagers and small children talk like aged adults, where we get to see the progression of culture and technology from early 00’s flip phones to early 10’s smartphones and social media, and teenagers promising rebellion instead become the forces they were so much so against in early seasons as cycles are broken yet perpetuate. This is a show where a teenager can afford an apartment by working part time at a mall food court. Its also got an incredible reinforcement of heteronormative ideals.

In this show, Ball is Life.

The biggest issue with One Tree Hill working is there needs to be a source of drama caused by the main cast. The way this works out in writing is characters often backtrack their growth to cause more drama again.

I do have a few positives. After S4 there is a time skip of 4 years. I think this actually gives good weight to S4’s finale, letting it keep that weight. And they give new struggles to the cast that don’t trivialize their previous successes while giving us something to root for. The friendship between Nathan and Lucas has genuinely compelling moments as they learn about themselves and each other.

Dan Scott is also a source of great enjoyment for me. He makes the show work. You have plotlines like “Lucas and Brooke are having relationship issues”, “Nathan wants to play basketball more”, and “Dan uses a school shooting to kill his brother Keith bc Dan was convinced he was drugged and left to burn in his dealership when really it was-“ and its just absurd every time.

I will do a character rundown of the main 5 peeps:

Lucas is the original protagonist of the show. He is half brother to Nathan and the “underdog” of S1 where he plays the river court compared to Nathan playing varsity bball. He’s described to be the more emotionally driven one between Nathan and Lucas but as the show goes on he just becomes the dumber of the two. When it comes to relationships he can’t make up his mind and goes with whatever the girl he’s with wants. This leads him to cheat multiple times and as his gf gets mad at him he squints off into the middle distance like there’s something going on but we all know there’s nothing going on behind those eyes. After the timeskip he continues dwelling on the past writing a book that is both super successful and terrible at the same time and the show just kinda makes him a washed up writer before giving him and Peyton a fairy tale ending and saying goodbye S6.

Nathan Scott is the “rich boy” bball player who starts the show as an asshole until the show decides he isnt. Nathan is the only good person in One Tree Hill. He’s the only one who’s level and tries to make reasonable choices without flying off the handle. He does have a few hilarious moments with how seriously high school bball is taken where a mafia is pressuring him to shave points off games bc they bet a lot of money on him. The biggest letdown with Nathan is he continues to beat himself up over the unrestrained anxieties of his wife-

Haley is the worst character in the show. She accuses Nathan of cheating at least 5 times in the show despite nothing indicating that, the most egregious of which is when she snoops and finds Nathan’s valentines day gifts for her and accuses them of being for someone else. This is second to a rando accusing Nathan of sleeping with her after he becomes famous and after a few days she decides to believe the rando over her husband of 4-5 years. She just lets her anxieties get the better of her and it makes her mean to Nathan for 75% of their screentime.

Brooke! One of my least favorite characters of s1-4 and one of the stronger of 5-9. Brooke starts as a party girl who just kinda starts shit for the sake of starting shit. When the show needs drama they turn to her for it most times and it makes her later high school bits feel less genuine. After the timeskip shes in charge of a multi million dollar clothing company (if you’re noticing a trend the timeskip changes characters from relatable high schoolers to wildly successful in their field). She matures out of that shit starter mentality and slides into Lucas’s spot as protagonist (a loose term with so many characters). Her and Nathan undergo the most growth. I also did appreciate and resonate with her graduation arc in that she didn’t really feel the same drive as her classmates.

Shit with Peyton is wild. She has 3 sudden family member reveals: one is Laura Palmer who dies almost immediately, one is serial killer arc #1, and the last is one of the show’s rare black characters who’s a marine thats very quickly sent out to war (Bush era politics). She is a musician, artist, she dates the lead singer from Fallout Boy somewhat seriously (that’s canon, its not the lead singer as a character, in universe he’s also the lead singer of Fallout Boy. He comes by in a limo and goes on tours). Her and Lucas are supposed to be the will they won’t they but with three female leads and two male leads Brooke kind of gets left behind S4 in a smaller capacity. In the timeskip she goes on to become a producer instead of a musician which always felt odd, then after her and Lucas depart they beach ball her label around without knowing what to do with it. Also casting has an issue where they hire sameface women and Peyton was the only one I could reliably identify.

If youre interested in watching One Tree Hill it depends how much time youre willing to sink into it. S1-8 are 22ish episodes long each and each episode is 42mins. I don’t think every episode is worthwhile unless you come at it with the analytical mind of having watched good prestige TV so you can pick apart characters more than the show wants you to.

For those just looking for a casual good time watch S1E1 then watch all the finales back to back to back. Its wild, so much happens you just have to adjust for. Its actually great.

If you REALLY wanna get your hands dirty the entire show is a nostalgia trip into the 00’s complete with famous bands of the time, tech, and norms. This is good and bad as you’ll watch them try to handle a bisexual character in the early 00’s. Also watching Dan Scott dunk on literal high schoolers never gets old.

I DON’T WANNA BE ANYTHING OTHER THAN WHAT I’VE BEEN TRYIN BE LATELY