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call-sign-shark · 5 months

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Savage Daughter || Shelby family x You

Summary: When the Shelby family gathers together, chaos is never far. Yet, for once, it's not the men who bring it but you, and soon the girls join you too. (based on Ekatarina Shelehova - Savage Daughter)

Words: 1.2k

Notes:

✞ This story is linked with the Arthur Shelby x You series Heaven in Your Eyes but can be read as a stand-alone.

Slipping your finger between your diamond choker and your skin, you took a big exhale — the expensive corset you wore for the occasion was crushing your ribcage. The sound of chatters, clinging glasses, and classical music might have been loud but all you could hear was your own pulse, beating in your temples faster and faster with each labored breathing.

Your crystal eyes scanned the room, looking for your husband but it seemed that he was also in distress, standing still behind Tommy with his gaze fixed upon an invisible spot on the wall. Arthur was nervously chewing the inside of his cheek, visibly as uncomfortable as you when surrounded by all these posh guests, and yet, he had no other choice but to keep playing the bodyguard for his younger brother.

"Mr. Shelby, what a wonderful party you're hosting here! Arrow House is wonderful, I reckon." An old, ugly gentleman, dressed in a suit more expensive than everything your parents had ever owned, said with his silly accent. If being honest, he was looking absolutely ridiculous with his ears too big and his triple chin far too fat for such a small bowtie. To play the Devil's advocate, your mocking thoughts were justified: the pig had tried to grope almost every woman he had talked with. And as if this previous fact didn't render him despicable enough, he had ignored Arthur as if he were part of the ballroom's furniture. Another sigh, louder this time, escaped from your lips at the painful sensation of the blisters behind your heels when they rubbed against your tight shoes.

When Arthur came back to you, one look at his pursed lips had been enough for you to guess that he had spent the last ten minutes keeping himself from strangling the impolite Mr. Dempsey.

"Fookin' bastard, can't even say a bloody 'hello' to me. I swore I should've cut his fucking —" Stopping mid-sentence, the lanky gangster suddenly frowned and tilted its head at the sight of you taking your high heels off, only half listening to him, "The hell you're doing, angel?"

"I'm taking my heels off, that's what I do." You replied, grunting as you undid the complicated laces that were climbing up your shinbones, "And I don't care if it ain't classy or decorous, these shoes are making my skin bleed and this damn corset is suffocating me!" Talking about the corset, you pulled on the delicate silky laces to tear them apart and free your body from this inhumane trap until all you were wearing was a thin white summer dress.

"Heaven, love," Arthur tried to interrupt as he noticed how a few outraged guests were already whispering together all the while glaring at you. Among them, Tommy Shelby's arctic iris.

"I'm dead serious: I'm trapped here among hypocrites, suffering in clothes their wives criticized when they saw me while I could be outside, peacefully enjoying the immense garden of the mansion. A garden which is, by the way, the only enjoyable feature of this golden cage. All of this only because Tom wants people to believe we're all getting along in the family, tsk." Arthur closed his mouth, unable to find something to retort to your murderous prose. Maybe that was why he looked at you silently instead, a glimmer of amusement shining in his still blue eyes. "What?" You finally asked, not comprehending why the lanky gangster was now smiling, his mustache slightly lifted on one side.

"Gimme these shits." With that being said, Arthur took your heels and corset from your hands before leaning above you and kissing your forehead with indescribable tenderness, completely obliterating the rest. "Now go," The gravel in his voice rumbled, "Go run barefoot and curse at sharp stones, I ain't going to pin your wings." Of course you felt suffocating, he thought, for he knew you didn't belong here. Just like him. But while he had to remain somewhat near to his brother for the whole evening, Arthur never wished to inflict such torment on your savage soul: you were born to dance around fires, in the curves of old bones, or look for omens in the falling of feathers. Not to sip on champagne and boast about your riches with aristocratic ladies.

"Really?" You inquired, the fierceness of your face softening at your husband's surprising —and understanding— reaction. Arthur winked at you for a sole reply before turning around and barking at those who were still observing you with a loud "The fook you're looking at me wife ay? Go back to your chit-chat!". It had been the final nail in Tommy's coffin, who pinched his nose as if to stop a dawning headache — a headache that bore your name.

Offering one shark-like and insolent smile to little King Shelby, you left the ballroom running barefoot and only stopped when you found yourself in the middle of the garden, slowly spinning on yourself. With your doll-like face facing the night sky, you relished the sensation of the fresh breeze softly grazing your skin in welcoming strokes. A cheerful giggle fell from your plump lips as rays of moonlight illuminated your dainty frame like a myriad of motherly hands ready to catch you.

"Hey! Devil! You're nothing but trouble, you know that?!" A feminine voice erupted behind you, making you stop dancing and glance from where the soft lilt was coming. What was your surprise when your gaze met Ada's cunning smile! Beside her Polly was standing, her frail arms crossed on her bosom but her ebony eyes displaying an excitement she hadn't felt in years.

"I can't help it, Ada. I'm my mother's savage daughter!" You exclaimed, opening your arms to fake a pretentious bow — a move that stirred a sincere laugh from your sister-in-law.

"Tommy's mad." She said through her grin.

"Tommy's always mad. Why don't you join me?" At your offering, Ada side-eyed her dear Aunt, not sure if she could momentarily strip from the elegant Mrs. Thorne mask and be herself for once. For fuck's sake! Can't they fucking behave?! Can't your fucking wife stop fucking everything up just once eh?! Tommy's voice was roaring from the inside of Arrow House, just what Ada and Polly needed to make up their mind.

Freeing themselves from fancy hats, oppressive clothes, and painful high heels, both Polly and Ada joined you in the middle of the garden, the two of them grabbing one of your hands to form a round dance.

We are our mother's savage daughters, you sang.

I'm not joking Arthur! Did you think about what people are going to say?!

We are our mother's savage daughters, Ada followed. Her voice swirled up to the sky, each note bringing her closer to her mom she barely knew.

We will not cut our hair! We will not lower our voice! Polly's cheered louder, and as she did she was sixteen again, walking barefoot in the mud with a horse's rein in one hand and flowers in the other.

And deep in our bones, the old songs are waking So sing them with voices of thunder and rain, the wind carried your chant away. So far away that somewhere on the road, one Romani woman, fierce and beautiful, felt the wild drums of nature beating within her as she braided the hair of her adorable little girl.

"Are you okay Mom?" She asked, concerned by her mother's sudden stop.

"Yes, Katie. Yes, I am."

Esme smiled.

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

✞Taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick@kxnnxy @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @alexandra-001 @dearshelby @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @peakyltd

#Arthur Shelby #Peaky Blinders #Arthur Shelby x Reader #Peaky Blinders imagine #Ada Shelby x Reader #Polly Gray x Reader #Tommy Shelby #Tommy Shelby x reader #Arthur Shelby x oc #Paul Anderson #Heaven Shelby #Peaky blinders oc #Heaven In Your Eyes

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anonymous-dentist · 1 month

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A Very Scary Night from the Merpepito AU

Read Parts 5 and 6 on Ao3!

The Sky is falling and Pepito is going to die.

It's loud. It's loud and the ship is shaking and rocking so badly that Pepito swears it's about to fall apart. Everybody is running around tying ropes and fixing the sails and scooping buckets of water out of the ship's hold, and the Sky is falling. Captain Celbi is at the wheel shouting so loudly that Pepito can hear him all the way from inside of Captain Celbi's bedroom, and the Sky is falling.

Pepito tries not to be too scared, though. Pepito shouldn't be scared, because pirates are never scared! Nobody but Pepito seems worried, so it's fine.

The Sky explodes again loud enough to make Pepito's ears ring.

Pomme yelps and claps her hands over her ears. Richarlyson cheers and runs to the window to look out at the falling Sky. Pepito pulls Pepito's knees close to Pepito's chest and tries not to think about how Apa Roier is five seconds away from the Sky falling onto him and sweeping him away into the Ocean, never to be heard from again.

It's fine!!

As soon as the Sky started falling, Miss Baghera had ushered Pepito and Pomme and Richarlyson into Captain Celbi's quarters. Apparently, the downstairs of the ship floods when the Sky falls, and it wouldn't be safe for Pepito and the others to stay down there.

Pepito doesn't get it, though. If the Sky is falling, that's it. There's nothing above the Sky. Does the Sky fall often enough for Miss Baghera and the other pirates to know what to do when it happens? How long has the Sky been falling? Is it normal? Because this cannot be normal.

"Get away from the window!" Pomme shouts, barely able to be heard above the wind the the falling Sky and the Sky's explosions.

"Fuck you!" Richarlyson shouts back. He presses himself up against the glass with his hands framing his face, up on his toes so far that his wooden leg hovers off of the ground beneath him. "This is cool! Come here! I think I can see the bottom of the ocean!"

That can't be right. The Bottom of the Ocean is a sacred place. Only mermaids and the Sea Witch and, like, evil sharks can go there. It's where Pepito came from, and it's where all baby Pepitos come from. Apa Mariana says so every time Ama Rivers starts talking about 'birth', whatever that is.

Richarlyson is probably just seeing part of a reef, which is a pretty big problem if it's true. Reefs are dangerous for ships. They eat them! That's why mermaids live there, it's the one place Sky Pepito Ships can't be.

The Sky explodes once more, and Pepito flinches so hard he ends up knocking his glasses off of his face with his knees. Embarrassed, Pepito puts Pepito's glasses back on. Nobody saw that.

"Hey, don't be scared," Pomme says. She gets up off of her spot on the floor by Captain Celbi's desk and goes to sit by Pepito by Captain Celbi's bed. Her knee bumps against Pepito's ankle.

"Yeah, don't be scared," Richarlyson echoes, but he sounds way meaner about it. He turns his head away from the window to look at Pepito, nose turned up in disgust. "What a baby."

Pepito puffs out Pepito's cheeks annoyedly. Pepito is not a baby! Pepito is a Big Pepito!

"Shut up, Richas," Pomme groans. "You're such a dick."

Pepito agrees, but also. Also maybe Richarlyson is right to be a... a rude person to Pepito. He seems to know that Pepito is a Bad Pepito, after all. He's always telling Captain Celbi that Pepito is stealing things from around the ship and that Pepito is the one messing with everybody's food at dinner and that's why it's too spicy and that Pepito is, like, super evil. And he always looks at Pepito when he says these things, right in Pepito's eyes, and he looks so smug about it.

One of these days, Richarlyson is going to tell Captain Celbi about the Very Bad Thing that Pepito did, and then Captain Celbi is going to tell Apa Roier because he and Apa Roier are Best Friends, and then Pepito will be thrown into the Ocean and forced to become a mermaid again and then Pepito will never see his family or his friends again.

(Pepito doesn't know how Richarlyson figured Pepito's secret out, but Pepito bets it has something to do with the Sea Witch.

Oooooh, the Sea Witch! Pepito is going to beat him up one day!)

The ship lurches so far to the side that all of the things on Captain Celbi's desk go flying off of the desk and into the far wall. Both Pepito and Pomme soon follow, limbs flailing as they're thrown about the cabin. Richarlyson joins them in a heap soon after, landing right on his face.

Hah!

Maybe Pepito is smiling too obviously, because Richarlyson immediately shouts and tackles him to the side.

"What's so funny?" he demands.

Pomme groans and pulls Richarlyson off of Pepito. (She might be smaller than Richarlyson is, but she's way stronger!)

"Are you really going to beat up a baby?" she asks, which- hey! Pepito is not a baby!

"Yes!" Richarlyson answers. He struggles in her grip. "It's his fault this storm showed up, anyway!"

Pepito frowns. He adjusts his glasses where Richarlyson and the moving ship had knocked them crooked.

Pepito shakes his head. This isn't his fault. He thinks. The Mermaid Police can't control the Sky, they're mermaids!

"Don't be stupid," Pomme says. "Look at him!"

They both look at Pepito. Pepito smiles and waves.

Richarlyson looks positively furious.

"Exactly!" he shouts. "Look at him! He's a menace!"

No, Pepito is a mermaid.

...Wait, no, Pepito is a pirate.

Pomme rolls her eyes. "He probably doesn't even know what that means. Look- Pepito, how old are you?"

Pepito thinks. He remembers a couple of parties, but those weren't really any different from any other time he went to Awuelo Foolish's house. Every day with Awuelo Foolish is a party!

But he guesses, anyway. He holds up a hand with all five of his fingers up. That sounds right, but numbers have never been Pepito's strong suit.

"See?" Pomme asks. "He's a baby."

Pepito shakes his head. Now he's starting to get angry. He is not a baby! They're both barely older than Pepito is!

"So what? He's the one who pissed off the gods," Richarlyson argues. "Think about it. Him and his dad show up, and suddenly it starts storming?"

"We're on the ocean! It always storms out here!"

"Not at this time of year! And he came here with the Sea Witch."

Pomme gasps, suddenly angry, and she pushes Richarlyson to the floor and leaps onto him with a cry.

"He's my dad!" she yells. "Shut up! He isn't evil!"

Richarlyson yelps and tries fighting her off, swinging wildly with his arms. "Get off! I'm just saying that they're bad luck! They're probably from the Navy and they probably have, like, storm magic, and they're trying to drown us and collect the bounty! It makes sense!"

"Gods, you and Captain Cellbit are both too paranoid," Pomme groans. "You need to touch grass."

"We're! On! The! Ocean!!" Richarlyson shouts, smacking Pomme with every word.

Pepito wordlessly gets up off of the floor and starts gathering some of the things that were thrown from Captain Celbi's desk. He does not want to be close to this fight...

The Sky explodes again, and Pepito jumps so hard that he almost falls over. Almost.

He fights against the ship's slope to get to the desk. At least it's bolted to the floor...

The desk is at too much of an angle for him to be able to put stuff onto it, so Pepito opens a drawer and pours his armful of things into it. At least this way, it's off of the floor!

"Hey!" Richarlyson shouts. "Get out of there!"

Pepito looks up from the drawer and can just barely see Richarlyson's eyes over the top of the desk, when did he stand up?

(Uh-oh, he looks angry.)

"Why are you always in my dad's stuff!" Richarlyson angrily asks. "You're so weird!"

"Is that what this is about?" Pomme asks, sounding very tired. "Richas, look at me."

He looks at her only as she grabs him by his face and makes him.

"Pepito isn't trying to steal your dad," she tells him.

Pepito tilts his head. Huh?

He comes out from around the desk and stands next to it, hands awkwardly hovering at his sides, unsure what to do with themselves.

Richarlyson stiffens. "I know that."

"Then act like it. Look how confused he is. He doesn't even know why you're angry at him."

She forces Richarlyson to look at Pepito.

Pepito smiles and waves again.

Richarlyson still looks positively furious.

"Your face is stupid," Richarlyson tells him. "And I'm going to keep my dad safe from you and your dad. I don't know why you're here, but I'm going to get to the bottom of it."

Pomme slaps him. "Pepito isn't an enigma! He's a baby!"

Okay, that is it!

Pepito picks up a soft-ish looking thing off of the floor- some kind of squishy little ball- and throws it at Pomme, who yelps and ducks to avoid it.

Richarlyson cackles. "Wow! Imagine pissing the baby off!"

He stops laughing as Pepito picks up a much harder thing off of the floor and chucks it at his face as hard as he can.

"Fuck!" Richarlyson shouts.

"Wow," Pomme smugly says, "imagine pissing the baby off."

"I hate you both," Richarlyson grumbles.

He wrestles himself free of Pomme's hold and stalks across the cabin and crawls onto Captain Celbi's bed and hides under the covers.

After a moment, Pepito goes to finish putting the desk's lost items in its drawers.

The Sky may be falling, and Pepito and the entire ship might be five seconds away from getting killed by the falling Sky, but he can at least clean the floor before dying. He may be a Bad Pepito, but he isn't a Dirty Pepito.

"Thank you, Pepito," Captain Celbi says when the Sky is done falling and he's inside his cabin checking on Pepito and the Richarlyson and Pomme. "I was worried that some of my things might have gotten lost in the storm."

Pepito basks in the praise, grinning wildly. He's such a good pirate!!

("Whatever," Richarlyson grumbles.

Pepito is just going to have to learn the hard way that stealing someone's dad is a bad idea. When he loses his dad, he'll be wishing he never tried stealing Pai Cellbit in the first place!)

#a.d.'s fics i suppose #a.d.'s fics i suppose.#merpepito au #oh richas...

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generalsdiary · 19 days

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what if ratio breaks down and falls apart?

Dr. Ratio (x Aventurine at the end)

warnings: mental breakdown

word count: 1.9k

a/n: lots of ppl seemed to like this idea so here it is, not beta read, ffs come home aventurine

description: Dr. Ratio breaks down (angst), Aventurine mentioned/shows up at one point (fluff dare I say)

his hands shook immensely with the keys in his hand, the heavy doors open and close. he can feel it. he can no longer hold on. being a victim of routine, he manages to push on just a few moments longer, to put away his bag, lock the door, and take off his shoes. few steps through the hallway and it is over. his body trembling as his chest swells up with pain and sadness, so many emotions mixed up in one. filling up in his throat like a peach pit, choking him and making it harder to breathe. he falls to his knees, his breathing heavy, rapid, and irregular. in moments like these, he knows how to take care of himself, how to help himself, how to fix this. but it is too much. he can't. he also... why does everyone get to break down but not him? he can barely breathe in and breathe out, as many thoughts fill his mind.

eyes filling with hot tears except he cannot cry that much, he has always been incapable of actually crying and letting it all out.

like a water dam overflowing and drowning him along with it. the dam filling with water and using it in useful ways until the workers don’t show up, the tools get clogged, old, and broken. the dam overflows. nature always comes back to take its due, to pick up the price, especially human nature.

he isn't enough. he will never be enough. it is a fool's job, what he is trying to achieve. how could he ever spread knowledge everywhere, making it available to everyone? how is that being realistic? hopeful fool, he knows better than to hope. an idiot. a failure. why did he even think he could be capable of doing that? the aeons were right to not recognize him, he isn't worth their attention- he keeps failing. isn't it the definition of insanity to keep doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different outcome? not enough. never enough. such expectations were put on him and he jumped to fulfill them- and when he didn't achieve the last one- to become a true genius, then he failed. failed the mold he was put in. failed the beliefs of everyone around him and their expectations. they were all wrong; everyone who said he could do something, become someone relevant, someone who matters and makes a significant change. and the things he did, well they were never perfect and always could have been done much better. for fuck's sake he fails his students, just how many get the actual knowledge, and how many give up? he isn't good enough, he should be better, and get the knowledge across in a way everyone would accept and know and learn. why is he not good enough? he keeps trying and it is never enough. not once has the universe said, ‘okay, you have done enough, you can rest now.’

why does he keep trying? and he is alone in all of it. who is there who cares for him- who puts his view of self aside, who can.. please.. who can please view him as a human.. a person.. just... as someone who doesn't need to be extraordinary- can he be loved in such a way, appreciated? who would care for him? when all that is said about him is that he is rude, when he only tells the truth and tries to help, he is told that he is insensitive, egotistical, and he is so far from it. why does everybody hate him? aeons, he hates himself. why was he born, created like this? it would've been so much easier to have been born an idiot, dumb, to work a normal job, and be happy.

he stares at an empty spot as these thoughts overtake him, and then he sobs as the next ones come... he wants to be held, oh so much. to be embraced, to be cared for, thought of in a positive way, for his name to be called with love. no one is enough, he isn't enough.

his thoughts keep spiraling in a whirlpool, almost like he is frozen in space. eyes fixed, hands shaking and the occasional warm tear falling down his cheeks, which are now red and hot.

his skin feels like it is burning, the clothes on him overwhelming him but he cannot move, it hurts, it all hurts. why does it hurt so much? this vicious cycle never ends. how could he stand up again when he is falling apart at the seams? is he worth it at all, the life he lives, if he cannot even help himself? he will never be enough. he wants to shout, to yell in frustration and anger- all swallowed in his throat while he continues to sit.. broken on the floor.

his thoughts become more incoherent, how could he.. why.. help.. not enough.. and so on. curses, hatred directed at himself, sorrow, and pity. his ears deaf at any sound, he is so lost in his mind, it is like he isn't even there.

this isn't the first time, but it was never this hard. he picked himself up before; standing, going automatically around his home to take care of his basic needs. but now he has no hope, no care for it, he cannot move. immobile and lost, so… so deep in this vortex.

the doors open and close. there's a voice, he doesn't even register it, “..tas?... home?”

the person makes a few more steps and sees Veritas, sitting on the ground. Veritas manages to register distant footsteps, rushed- it doesn't matter; he isn't even there. only his body is.

the person sits down in front of Veritas and hands him a glass of water. his eyes are unfocused, he appears still, hands on the floor with a slight tremor, cheeks shiny from the tears and a warm red color. instinctively he accepts the glass and drinks the water. the cool fluid makes him consciously blink and float back to the present moment. he registers the voice of the person in front of him.

“Veritas.. I'm here, good- the water is good for you- I'm here, alright?” his eyes focus on the blond man sitting in front of him. Aventurine's eyes are filled with worry and his hands cup Veritas' face, caressing slowly. his voice is calm, “you will be fine- I got you, okay?” Aventurine nods to himself more than to Ratio. his hand moves to the indigo hair, pulling his fingers through the soft locks in a comforting manner. Veritas' eyes are trained on him, full of pain and heartbreak, yet his face is neutral, so hurt.

“your head got to you again? I keep telling you- don't listen to it- it isn't right it only says mean things which aren't true. do you hear me?” the only thing he gets in response is a slow blink from the taller man. and it is enough.

“it tipped over, it isn't as bad as your head claims- don't listen to it, listen to me, focus on me. I’ve got you, I'm here-“ he pulls Veritas into his chest, cradling him in a way. “-and I'm not going anywhere”

fresh tears soak Aventurine's shirt. it hurts to be cared for, to be seen, and for that person to stay and not leave.. it feels undeserving and it just makes him cry harder. he sobs into Aventurine's shoulder, breaking down fully. his voice comes out high-pitched, breaking, “I... I.. it is so hard-” he sobs harder and tightly embraces Aventurine.

“I'm here, you will be okay, this will pass, I have you, don't- don't struggle against them, focus on me, please?” Aventurine pulls away to raise Veritas' chin and meet his eyes, those sunset eyes filled with tears. and he weakly nods.

“focus on me, my voice, Doc, focus on my voice. and I'm warm- you can feel it yes? my chest is warm and my hands- my scent- you can smell the perfume right? focus on me, ground with me. leave that dreadful place- it never did you any good.” he continues using safe words, repeating them, and when Veritas manages to get a grasp on reality once more; he feels empty, numb and Aventurine takes care of him. Aventurine helps him eat a proper meal, bathes with him where he holds him close against his chest, kissing his temple, and repeating that everything will be okay.

Aventurine holds him tightly in bed and whispers only the softest affirmations. before Veritas falls asleep, Aventurine mumbles kind words with his fingers in his hair.

he stays mostly awake that night, just in case Ratio wakes up in distress or from a nightmare. he doesn't mind it. he cares for him, if needed he'd pick his pieces up every day and help him put himself back together. Veritas is his, and he will always be there for him.

the morning turns out to be a slow one. Veritas would tiredly gaze at Aventurine, the blond man asleep into the late morning, and he wouldn't dare start his day- not yet, not now, not without him. Veritas' thoughts are slow this early in the day, they are quiet. he simply observes the younger man. finding some type of solace in it. he doesn't dare touch him as if the beautiful man was a statue made of glass and might break from a single touch.

when his eyes do open he hums and moves to press his face into Veritas' soft chest.

like it is the first time, Ratio is surprised, frozen for a few moments before he relaxes and embraces Aventurine.

“sleep well?”

he nods.

“I rescheduled my stuff, and I hope you will yours too-“, Veritas interrupts him, “..I did.” his voice quiet, monotone.

“today.. today will be easier, okay?” he raises his head, looking up. “I will be with you as long as you need and then some. please be kind to yourself. you need it” he whispers the last sentence and presses his lips into Ratio's cheek.

“I'll try... thank you.. for.. yesterday, dear gambler”

Aventurine nods, “I love you,” he says, easily, as if he didn't have to think those words through before he said them but it conveyed everything he wanted them to say. that he would be there for him, that he'd take care of him, that he would be his.

slight shock is obvious in Veritas’ eyes, that he would be loved gives him a stutter in his response. he feels so vulnerable, bare and naked in front of him. his emotions nude especially after being seen in the state he was in yesterday and despite that... or perhaps specifically because of it... Aventurine said that. with fear, felt on both sides, but also assurance that this is right, that it is a fact he softly says, “I... I love you too.”

beat. both staring into the other's eyes. Veritas cups his cheek. thumb drawing small circles, voice but a whisper, “please don't ever leave me” in that moment he is baren, vulnerable, his cards are on the table for the gambler to gamble off or hold tightly to his chest and fold.

Aventurine answers quickly with a small nervous smile, “the same goes for you too, Doc”

with all those emotions being so loud and scary, Veritas cannot keep up a coy act and even when he does Aventurine sees right through him.

“I promise” Veritas utters and seals it with a soft kiss.

#honkai star rail #dr ratio #hsr #dr ratio angst #analysis #dr ratio fluff #aventurine #aventurine x dr ratio #veritas ratio #aventio #raturine #ratiorine #comfort #veritas ratio angst #hurt/comfort

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malex-crack · 3 months

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"Season 4 didn't give anything for malex"

The stuff season 4 actually gave us

(This is a joke btw) this is long af too. Be prepared

Malex dating for six months.

A malex sneak peak

Michael moves in with alex

Malex being domestic af

Alex opening up to Michael about the miniature gazebo(paralleling Michael showing Alex his console s1

Michael cheesy flirt

Them hooking up on the couch( even tho it was cut it happened)

Domestically talking about work

Michael trying to fix the broken garbage disposal for Alex.

Michael panicking that he screwed up and will lose Alex

Malex maturely communicating and working through Michael's nerves

"Hey, I can live without that gazebo. What I can't live without is you."

Holding hands

Malex post disaster worry scene

Malex brain storming together

Michael getting lost in Alex's brain rambling

Flirty Alex

"Like a piece of alien glass, I don't like being parted from my alien

"I hate being away from you too"

Michael noticing Alex's hurt

"Why don't you ask your pretty lookin fella to help out?" Sanders my lovely

Sanders helping Michael pull his head out his ass with Alex

Michael trusting Alex

"You Are My Home. And I trust you to take care of my dreams"

"Your dreams and your heart..always."

Malex heart eyes

Alex trusting their relationship can survive long distance

Michael making fucking necklace for them BOTH out of the first piece of alien glass he found.

Michael also trusting no matter how far apart they are, they will always find their way back to each other.

Kissy

Alex crying/emotional because he has to leave Michael for a while

Michael unpacked his bags and no longer running

Michael lowkey seemed like he was trying to distract himself with Alex being gone

"I have a boyfriend! And I'm kinda completely in love with him!"

" He's really important to my boyfriend "

"Your boyfriend is sick!"

Michael wants Alex while being sick

"Accio Alex"

Michael wanting to discuss the possibility of going to Oasis with Alex

Michael struggling with two paths. And both feeling like the right decision. Alex vs going home

The way you can see Michael going still when he finds out Alex is missing

Michael getting upset that Alex missing was kept from him.

Michael expecting Alex to reach out to him and not others

"You don't think I was thinking of Alex every second I was risking my life"

"You knew the man that I love-"

Liz comparing her feeling of losing Max to Michael possibly losing Alex. Knowing it's the same, and he would feel the same as she did.

Michael feeling guilty he lost focus of Alex and the home they're building together.

"What I have learned from Alex-"

Michael immediately recognizing the opening of "Would you Come Home"

Going over amazed and playing the song with Alex

Michael tearing up during the song.

"Alex would always make fun of me for carrying around this old map"

Michael's face realizing where Alex is.

Immediately going to try an rescue him

"Max, give me the rope. I have to go Alex needs me!"

More panic

" I have to help him! I wasn't paying attention! I wasn't listening!"

" I am the man who helps save the love of his brothers life"

" all I care about is getting Alex back"

" imma go get my boyfriend "

" the least I can do is jump into a sinkhole to save my soulmate"

Michael stressed about not being able to open the sinkhole

"After everything Alex and I have been through our love is losing out to a hole in the ground"

"But you know who's reaching back? Alex, to you. He's out there somewhere doing his damnest to reach you through M. Every bit is determined to be with you as you are with him. That's powerful. So the minute you wanna start giving up the faith, I'll keep it for the both of you" preach Kyle

Michael's small scene of holding his necklace staring at the sinkhole in a dating obviously thinking of Alex

"We'll find it, just like I'll find alex"

"It's my one shot to see Alex"

"I want to help my friend find the man that he loves"

Michael not hesitating to go into the portal even if he can't come back.

"Now we find Alex"

"My priority is Alex"

That whole reunion tackle. Michael put his whole body into that.

Michael's face when he sees its Alex

" At least kiss me before you bust my lip" along with Alex's happy smile

Michael's heavy relief and happy smile finding Alex

The whole next scene. The kiss, holding each other, " So happy you found me" "knew you had to be here somewhere" "I'm here, your here"

Michael pride in Alex making a makeshift alien trap

Michael following Alex when he goes to sit down. (It's just so cute to me)

"Our house"

Alex putting the blanket around them both, Michael rubbing Alex's thighs, Alex gripping Michael's arm then holding his hand.

"Kinda romantic isn't it?"

References to the drive in date 1x03 in such a light way. There's no bitterness or resentment just light hearted banter

Alex saying he spent his time dating dreaming it was about star crossed lovers and that Michael was doing the same

Michael opening up and feeling guilty about thinking about going home.

The communication!

Alex being understanding because he know Michael and understands that Michael's desire ans dream of Oasis doesn't mean he loves him any less. It's just a simple dream Michael's had since being a kid.

Alex saying he will never look away no matter where they are. " roswell, Oasis, I don't care if we are on other side of the universe. As long as we are looking at the same stars, I will never look away"

The double kiss

"So this movie. How does it end?" The reference 😭

" Michael Guerin will you marry me?"

Michael inhale, the shock and love all over his face

"I can't wait to see sanders in a tux." Them both laughing so happy. "Yes," kiss," yes, I am so in love with you it's embarrassing "

Michael literally crying during the proposal

Alex's small " I love you too."

Their old people kisses laying down

" Do I have to wait till the honeymoon?" Michael being a little shit

The worry and fear Michael has finding out Alex is dying. And the hand on his chest.

" five minutes ago I was imagining wedding vows-"

" I want to marry you."

Michael being upset but giving Alex their tiny blue world wedding

Alex's smile watching Bonnie and Dallas decorate

(Malex Wedding)sign

Michael and Alex holding hands prepared to get married

Despite what Michael and Alex have both been through together, the good and the bad Alex is happy with what they've had

" how about no. We're not getting married Alex, not until we can do right at home. My vow is to not let you die period"

Michael determination to let Alex die

Michael's little tap on Alex's shoulder to reassure him

"When did you become a plant daddy?" I'm sorry but Alex calling Michael daddy was not on my s4 bingo list but I fucking love it

"Me and sander don't grow prize winning sunflowers every year on sheer luck and sunshine, baby" Michael called Alex baby in return. Is it just me or did those names come naturally to them

Alex's smile

" ooo a long hot shower with the man you love" Michael's smirk, Alex's blush and cute scrunch

Michael carrying Alex into the Crashdown, being all husbandly

Michael's gentleness in his movements and his voice. Cupping Alex's cheek.

Michael's panic realizing how bad Alex is getting

"You refused to leave my side when I went chasing after Jones, I am returning the favor "

" my heart is about to explode. I am scared to death I am going to lose you today" meaning the thought of losing Alex making him feel like his heart is going to literally explode in dear.

Michael literally carrying Alex everywhere

Michael realizing Alex needs a minute to rest, and helps take care of him

About to flip shit crying because the portal closed

Michael immediately going to Alex when he calls and holds his hands.

"Do not talk about my fiance like that"

" I should've never refused to marrying because all I've wanted my entire life was to make you happy and I wanted to build a home together "

Alex talking Michael down and calming him, helping him realize he can get them out of there

That whole scene, holding each other's hands, the concern, gentleness, Michael rubbing Alex's chin randomly

"I wanna marry Alex more than anything" thank you Michael for saying this.

"Who wants to go to a wedding?" Michael's happy smile. The way he did not hesitat to say that

" wanna know how I knew it was time to ask Michael to move in with me? I listened to my heart"

"Maybe we should just elope?" Michael pre-wedding panic was absolutely adorable.

"Finally imbraced my destiny " aka belonging with Alex

That whole wedding speech. "The man that I love" "my husband"

Michael on stage in front of all their friends and family playing a song for Alex 😭😭

Michael's first look up and Alex's during the wedding is absolutely precious.

Them holding hands smiling so happily.

Watching them exchange rings and their happy smiles after

That kiss on stage in front of everyone

"I married my highschool sweetheart "

Them dancing and laughing together

" here I was thinking about the future, can't wait to sign my first check. Alex Guerin. I've never been much of a Manes man"

Them dancing in the background. Pressed up against each other so tightly

Honeymoon teases

" as a reminder the next chapter in your life will be written by you and Alex "

" Your destiny is with Alex "

Michael kissing Alex's hand in the truck, " Let's get the hell outta here"

Malex literally driving off into the night together

Season 4 missed Alex but completely understandable why he was not there. But this season killed me in the best way ever

#roswell new mexico #malex #michael guerin #alex manes #alex guerin

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alittlebabypandagirl · 8 months

Text

Spank away the big bad.

cw - ABDL, erotic spanking, polyamory

Emma made light steps across the polished hardwood floor, making her way through the familiar hallways of her home. The afternoon light filtered through the large windows, and the apartment seemed enveloped in a sphere of quiet. The outside word was muffled, the pleasant hum of the dishwasher seemed like a distant drone. She approached the door and carefully opened it, slowly swinging it on the hushed hinges.

The room was dark, the blinds closed to keep the sun away. But the ceiling was filled with stars in explosions of kaleidoscope colors, purple, blue, pink, all coming from a projector on a dresser near the door. There were long shelves around the room, all tidied with books and baskets filled with colorful toys. And in the center was a large bed, plush and pillowy, with several stuffed animals and pillows lining the edges. It was sunk in shallow bars to keep the precious bundle in the center safe. Emma quietly approached to peer inside the bed.

There she saw her little one, Nova, tangled up in the blankets as she sprawled across the bed. Her soft curls of red hair barely concealing her pale face, but Emma could see her sweet button nose, and her long eyelashes closed against her still-pink, tear stained cheeks. Emma gently reached down and stoked her hair, tucking the long strands behind her cute little ear so she could see her darling sleeping girl. Emma's heart swelled.

It was nice to have this moment of peace right after so much chaos earlier in the afternoon when Liam went to put her down for her nap. She had a tantrum at lunch, frustrated that she couldn't feed herself. Nova was still struggling with a few aspects of her new position, where she had an eager Mommy and Daddy there, ready to love and support her. Emma did her best as a Mommy, and she tried to calm Nova, tried to help her express her emotions. But, that only seemed to escalate it, and Liam stepped in with the dominant force that even Emma responded to, a spark of electricity going straight between her legs when he put on that voice of authority. Nova also responded to it, but they both knew she was too far into the tantrum, and what she needed was some more hands on discipline.

So, Liam picked her up from her chair, her face already red and filled with tears. He pulled her up, keeping her close to his strong shoulder as she kicked her legs and tried squirmed away. He took her to her bedroom, and laid her down on her changing table to undress her and remove her slightly soggy diaper over her loud unintelligible cries. Emma stood in the corner and watched as he picked her back up, completely naked and took her to a plush arm chair. He sat down and put her on his lap while she continued to cry, only now realizing what was going to happen. She tried to hide her face as she cried, her chest heaving with her heavy breaths, her perky breasts exposing her hard, pink nipples. Emma imagined the arousal she must be feeling, knowing her Daddy is about to spank her.

Liam stayed calm, and pulled her hands down from her face, gently coaxing her to calm down as her rubbed her back.

"It's okay, baby girl," he said softly. "I know you're upset, but we can't have those outbursts. It's not a constructive way to express our feelings. Okay?"

She nodded, her breath starting to slow down, her bright blue eyes fixed on her Daddy's face.

"Daddy is going to spank you now," he said calmly. "Not because you're a bad girl, because you are not. You are my sweet little baby. But I bet a good hard spanking will help you get all those big, bad feelings out."

Tears began to pour down her red face again, Liam bending down and pressing his forehead against hers. Emma's heart broke for her, because she understood those feelings. And she wished she could make the process of dealing with them any amount easier for this woman she loved. But Liam was an expert at it, so she left it in his hands.

Liam kissed Nova's forehead and helped her gently into position over his lap, pivoting her legs so that they draped either side of his leg, his knee pressing up against her exposed intimacy. Her round perfect ass cheeks were on display with Liam's knee opening up her legs enough to see just a glimpse of her pink pussy lips. Emma kept her eyes on their girl as he raised his hand up and landed a firm, hard slap on her bouncing ass cheek with a resounding crack.

He started slowly, letting each slap really sink into her skin, her yelps soft and muffled by the back of the armchair. Her cries became more pronounced as he ramped up, spanking her faster and faster until he was raining quick painful strikes all over the pale parts of her round bottom. She wailed out long cries, gripping the edge of the chair, and twisting her legs around his calf to keep herself from kicking from the pain. He showed no resistance, keeping a strong rhythm, as her backside went from pale, to pink, and now turning a bright shade of red.

Emma felt her lust encroach on her, bathed in the sense of authority her husband exuded and the beauty of her little taking it. Their energies overwhelmed her, sending a tingle down her spine right to a burning need between her legs. She imagined all the times she was over Liam's lap, being spanked red with tears down her face. And she relished in the look on Nova's face as she whipped her head back, her hair spiraling down her shoulders and tears running down her cheeks to her extended throat. Emma wanted nothing more than to press Nova's lips against her own, cupping her adorable face in her hands and just drink all of her in.

Liam kept spanking her, using a hand to encourage her to grind against his knee as he did. She shivered, her cries mixed with moans as he pushed her to orgasm through the pain of his slapping hand. She arched her back, her hips bucking as he held her down against his knee and continued to slap the seat spot on her ass until she slumped against him, her breath heaving again.

Liam caught Emma's eye, he licked his lips and grinned, running and hand in his hair before taking a deep breath. He reached down again and began to run his hands up and down her sore, burning cheeks. She whimpered softly, her needy clit likely on fire with sensitivity as she softly rocked her hips against him. He continued rubbing her burning cheeks before moving his fingers down between her legs, his eyes never leaving Emma's.

"What happened here," he said with a smile. He ran his fingers up and down her slick lips, the sound filling the room. He pulled his hand away and helped Nova back up, gingerly sitting her up onto his lap again. Her soft curls a wild mess down her back as she leaned against his chest.

"Do you feel better?" he asked.

She nodded, reaching up to kiss his neck softly. "Yes, Daddy. Thank you."

Emma cleared her throat, her cheeks about as pink as Nova's, her body electric with desire, but she tamped it down. "Why don't you get her ready for her nap, honey," Emma said.

Liam nodded, stroking Nova's hair, softly brushing fingers against her still damp cheek. Emma could barely pry her eyes against the wet spot on Liam's knee as he tended to their baby girl. He was so good at the aftercare part, gently rocking her, and keep her snug against his chest. Emma didn't want to impose herself in the middle of it. So, she sighed and turned away towards the door of the bedroom.

"Mommy," Nova's little voice came through before Emma could leave. She turned to see her girl looking up at her from her Daddy's arms.

"I'm sorry I yelled," she said and Emma felt her heart swell again.

"I know, sweetie," Emma said. "I know those feelings are hard. I'm just happy that you have Daddy to help you sort through them sometimes."

"And Mommy," Liam said. "Mommy is here for you too."

"I know," Nova said before closing her eyes against Liam's chest, snuggling into his strong arms.

Emma left them to their aftercare routine. Liam came to find her in their bedroom afterwards, where Emma was busily attending to that growing need with her vibrator clutched in her hand. Liam smirked at her, taking a beat to soak in the sight of his horny wife before pouncing and savagely fucking her until she was a quivering whimpering mess. Then it was time for her aftercare it seemed, and she spent the rest of the afternoon in a warm bath, in a daze of pleasure and large emotions.

And now there she stood, still dazed in the calm of the explosive afternoon, brushing the hair off her little one's sleeping face, her lips slack around a pacifier and her arms clutched around a squishy stuffed animal. Emma felt another wave of those large emotions as her eyes welled. She never imagined she could love two people this much.

______

Thanks for reading! I'm a disabled diaper girl who likes to write ABDL scenes and stories. If you'd like to help support me, check out this link where I'm raising funds for my wheelchair.

#bd/sm little #bd/sm daddy #bd/sm mommy #bd/sm dynamic #ab/dl girl #ab/dl #cg/l #bd/sm lifestyle #ab/dl story #ab/dl lifestyle #ab/dl community

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vettelsbitch · 5 months

Note

Hellooo, hope you're doing alright!! I wanted to check in and ask if you think Bez and Cele in the kidfic universe would go to a Christmas market?

Either pre relationship with Bez's hands being cold and Cele warming them up? Or post getting together when Matteo is walking with both of them holding one of his hands? Or mix it all together and Teo is the one with cold hands and needs both of them close to him and each other?

Thanks in advance, and don't feel pressured!!! <3

Bestie, babe, I HAVE thought about this, I think Xmas time can have such potential for a kidfic AU. And of course this is no different.

At first I was going to answer this with a series of thoughts and ideas about what could happen, but then it started growing and growing. So I went for a blurb... that also grew and ended up being 2.5k words.

But, merry christmas and happy holidays, there you go, enjoy this unbetaed mess (and as always thanks to @dobbiamo-capire for helping me keep it italian enough)

....

Marco stops for a second in his walk down the building stairs, Matteo in his arms, his eyes drifting to Cele's closed door a little ways down the hallway. They haven't seen each other quite as much, and Matteo has started asking about him. Well, more than usual. He wonders if they should walk up to the door and knock, but what would he say? 'Hey, Teo has been asking about you, and I also miss you a lot'. So instead he just keeps walking down, Cele is probably studying for his exams.

Marco had asked for the day off at work so they could go walk around the Christmas market a week ago. But the mechanic shop was very busy with people wanting to make sure their car was ready for long trips home or up the mountains for the holidays. So it took a bit, but finally, they are on their way to spend a whole day walking around.

When they get to the street, Marco lowers Teo to the ground. He readjusts the backpack on his shoulders, full of juice packs, sandwiches, and some of Teo's favorite snacks, and drops to one knee in front of his kid.

"You have to put on your hat, Teo," he says, reaching for the lump of knit fabric in Matteo's hands.

"I don't like it, papà!"

"It's cold, and your ears will fall off if you don't use it," he says, tugging one of his small ears, prompting a giggle out of Teo. Then he brushes Teo's curls back to make sure they don't get in his eyes when he puts the hat on, tying the little ear covers under his chin and fluffing his scarf so his cheeks get some coverage from the chilly wind too. "How excited are you for the market?"

Matteo throws his arm open and his hands as far apart as he can stretch them. "This much!"

"Wow, that's a lot."

Marco stands up again, offering his hand for Matteo to grab onto, and they start walking slowly towards the city center. His little gloved hand in Marco's big one makes him smile, excited to see him enjoy the holiday spirit that covers the city.

…………………

They reach the market twenty minutes and a juice pack later. It's filled with people chatting and laughing, looking at the stands offering anything from sweets to Christmas decorations, and Matteo seems to fill back up with energy at the sight of it all, pulling on Marco's hand to go to the closest stall and look at the wooden toys in it.

Every vendor is nice, and the whole square smells of wood and spices. An old man with gray hair, big round glasses, and an apron with a chocolate bar printed on it gives Matteo a little chocolate candy for free, and that makes sure his smile stays firmly in his face while they walk between wooden stalls.

Marco recognizes one of the girls tending the coffee stand, she had brought her car to his job to get a bump fixed not long ago, and she strikes up a conversation while still helping customers, which is quite impressive if you ask him. She's telling him how she can't go back home this year when he feels Matteo pulling his hand insistently. He looks down to see him pointing somewhere in the distance, throwing an apologetic smile at the girl.

"Papà, look, 'ele!"

Marco's eyes snap up immediately, looking towards where Teo is pointing. Between the rows of people having a good time, he can see the archway that serves as an entry to the ice rink, and next to it, in another of the wooden winter stalls, there's Cele. If Matteo hadn't pointed him out, it could have taken Marco a second to realize it was him, his long black curls hidden by his hat. But it's clearly him. Matteo tugs at his hand again.

"C'mon, papà, let's go see 'ele."

Marco smiles at him again, letting himself get dragged away from the coffee stall. He turns around to wave to the girl, and she just smiles back at him quickly before turning around to the next person in line. Teo walks in a straight line, his little hand tight around Marco's fingers. He can see people entering the rink, but Cele seems to not be busy when they get to him, he's talking to another young man next to him. Both of them have the same jacket on, with the university logo on the chest. Marco goes to clear his throat to catch his attention when Teo beats him to it.

"Hi 'ele!"

Marco feels his heart skip a beat when Cele turns around, his nose and his cheeks are flushed red. He's smiling immediately, looking down at Teo and then glancing at Marco. His eyes are crinkling, and his irises are so dark that they reflect the light hanging around him.

"Hey guys! What brings you here?" He says, dropping to his elbows on the stall to look down at Teo more comfortably.

Marco pats Matteo's head, the hat warm against his cold hands. "I promised to take him to the market some time ago, and we finally managed."

Matteo steps closer, rising on his tiptoes to put his hands on the edge of the wooden table. "Look, Cele! I've got Spiderman gloves!"

Cele bends over further, getting close to Teo, and Marco feels like his lungs are on fire for a second, seeing him smiling at his kid, his face soft and open, immediately praising his gloves. He puts his hands in his pocket before he does something dumb, like caressing Cele's cheek.

"Do you guys want to try the rink? Skating is pretty fun," Cele says, pointing at the archway.

Marco looks at the mass of people skating around and then at the list of prices for the rented skates, feeling Teo turn around. Cele must notice because he speaks up. "Friends and family discount, of course," he says with a wink. Marco almost chokes on his own breath.

"Can we papà?"

Bez looks down, patting his head again. "There's too many people, Teo, and you're small, it can be dangerous."

Matteo pouts, his bottom lip pushing forward and his big eyes looking up at him, and Marco knows he's doomed. He can never say no to his kid when he pulls the puppy eyes; even at three years old, he knows it. He looks up to Cele, looking for help, only to be faced with his crooked smile and big eyes filled with twinkling lights. And before Cele can fully open his mouth to speak, he is really doomed.

"I get my break at around 13, in less than an hour, if you guys wait until then, we can all go in, and then there are fewer people since it's lunchtime," he says, tilting his head a little for the full puppy eyes effect.

Marco sighs, shaking his head, the curls poking out under his beanie bouncing with the movement. "Okay, we'll keep looking around and come back then. Thank you, Cele."

"Thank you, 'ele!"

…………………………………

After another walk around the market, a sandwich, two juice packs, and a trip to the bathroom in the mall next to the market, they make their way back to the rink. Cele is no longer standing behind the wooden table, a blonde girl is in his place. Marco is about to walk up and ask when he feels a hand on his shoulder.

"You're here, guys, just in time," he says, dropping to one knee to talk with Matteo. "Are you ready to skate?"

Matteo nods quickly, his smile a little tight with equal parts excitement and nerves. Marco feels nervous himself, butterflies causing a ruckus in his stomach when Cele looks up at him.

"Okay, I need your shoe sizes for the skates," Cele starts walking towards the wooden stall as soon as Marco stumbles through telling him the two numbers.

When they reach him, he's struggling to carry three pairs of skates to the bench next to the archway into the rink. It's cute, how excited he also looks to be skating with them, and the butterflies in Marco's stomach start dive-bombing once again.

"Wait, I haven't paid yet," Marco says, helping Teo onto the bench, his legs a bit too short to jump by himself.

Cele shakes a hand in front of his face. "Don't worry about it, friends and family discount, remember," he says as he turns back towards Matteo, kneeling in front of him to help him get his shoes off and the skates on. When he tickles his little socked toes and they both giggle, Marco feels his chest burst with affection.

He's still standing, his skates waiting for him next to Cele's, so he sits down to put them on before he says something dumb. Or incriminating. Like how pretty Cele looks with his cheeks pink from the cold.

Once they're all skated up, their shoes safely back in the hands of the blonde girl, Cele gives them some quick pointers with the ease of someone who's probably been doing it for some days already. When he's done and asks if they have any questions, Matteo raises his hand. Marco can see Cele's mouth tighten to contain a giggle.

"Cele, papà doesn't have gloves!"

Marco feels his cheeks heat up under Cele's gaze. He shakes his head, opens his jacket, and starts digging around in the pockets of the hoodie he has on underneath.

"Well, that can't be, right, Teo? The good news is I always carry extra because I also forget them all the time," he says, pulling another pair of gloves, dark gray like the ones he's wearing, from his pocket. "So I can lend them to your papà while we skate."

Marco grabs the gloves, immediately putting them on under the focused gaze of his kid. They're slightly warm to the touch, probably from Cele's body heat, and feel like heaven going over his freezing-cold fingers. He wiggles his fingers, they're a little big for him, and they look snug on Cele, but he has a bit of extra room at the tips of his fingers. His brain floods with the realization that Cele has bigger hands than him. He's never cared about that, and now his eyes keep glancing at the other's hands.

When they're fully ready, Cele guides them through the archway carefully, Matteo gripping their hands tight to stay upright on the suddenly much more slick surface. The rink is much emptier than before, some couples and one group of teens are the only ones skating around. They start slowly, Cele giving pointers to their form, and quickly enough they're skating around, Matteo grabbing their hands with a huge smile on his face.

Marco looks over at Cele, on the other side of his kid, and mouths his thanks. He swears he sees Cele's cheeks flush darker, but that's probably from the ice underneath their feet.

"So, Teo, have you written your letter to Babbo Natale already?"

Matteo nods, sliding a bit with the momentum but catching himself easily with Cele's help. "Yes, papà is helping me, writing is a bit hard."

"It is, you're right there, Teo."

Matteo starts going on about what he's asking for, and what he's sure he will get because everyone says he's a good boy. Marco feels warm all over—the swirling lights around them, his kid's hand in his, soft gloves, and softer eyes across the ice.

"Cele," he says in a lull of their conversation. "How is it that you're working here? Don't you have exams?"

Cele nods, smiling. "I do, but I can revise here easily, that's why I asked to be at the front instead of in here. Also, the extra cash is nice, I'm not going home until New Year's Eve, so I had the time."

"So you're here for Christmas?"

"Yes, this year is a bit complicated with scheduling, so I can't get up there until afterwards. But it's okay."

Marco knows what he's going to say before he can reel it in and stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth. "We're going to Rimini for Christmas, you could come with us and spend the day together," he says. "If you want, I don't want you to be alone."

He can see it hit Cele, the moment the words sink into both of them, at the same time as he loses his footing on the ice, sliding backwards. He lets go of Matteo's hand, not wanting to bring his kid down with him, but it's too late for himself, his limbs flying, trying to catch himself, and Cele moving towards him to try to help.

One second later, he's flat on his back, his ass sore from the fall, the warm, solid weight of Cele on top of him, and his dark eyes worried. "Are you okay, Marco?"

He wants to bury himself in the ice, let the embarrassment pass, he wants to pull Cele closer, he wants to run away. He's stalling until Matteo's laughter next to him brings him back. Teo's sitting down on the ice, giggling up a storm at his dad's fall.

Cele moves back, getting up, and Marco has to stop himself from tugging on his sleeve, so he lays on top of him again. The cold is starting to seep into his back, so he should get up too.

With the help of Cele, they all get back on their feet and skate slowly back to the entrance. There was nothing other than a sore butt and a dent in his cool persona to cry about. When they get their shoes back, Matteo's legs are a bit wiggly from the change back to solid ground, and he starts imitating his dad falling on his ass and laughing loudly.

"Yes, yes, I fell. Very funny," he says.

Cele has been a bit quiet since the fall, so he turns towards him, grabbing his arm and squeezing. "Hey, the offer stands, I think Matteo would really like to have you there, and you shouldn't be alone for Christmas."

He sees him stutter, looking down at Teo, before nodding with a shy smile on his face. "Okay, if you insist, thank you, Marco."

The blonde girl at the stall calls Cele's name, his break is up.

"I had a great time with you guys, I need to go back now."

"Oh, right," says Marco. "Thank you, Cele, we had a lot of fun."

Matteo hugs his legs, thanking him too. Cele's hand comes down to ruffle his head through his hat. Marco finds himself unable to shut up again. "We're going to walk around until they turn on the lights if you want to go see them with us later. When do you get out?"

Cele's smile widens. "My shift ends at 17, and I'd love to go with you guys," he says, walking backward towards the stall.

"We'll be here," Marco says, letting Matteo tug him back to the market.

He squeezes his kid's hand, his chest feeling raw with emotion, and his brain is busy thinking about how he's going to tell his mom that she needs to add another plate to Christmas lunch. He's still wearing Cele's gloves.

#bezz/cele #bezz/cele kidfic AU #bezz has a kid and Cele is his neighbor AU #but make it xmas themed #motogp rpf #mine #kidfic anon

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starryeyedadmirer · 1 year

Text

Brad Pitt: Cleaning Day

-Brad x Reader-

!!CW!! — None

Synopsis: Though you enjoy spending time with your neighbor — Brad — you can’t deny that he’s got a serious hygiene issue. His body is dirty, his house is dirty… and damn, his mind is dirty too. He usually lives like an overgrown sewer rat, but — by some miracle — you’ve managed to stop by his place on a rare occasion — Cleaning Day — and, in the spirit of friendship, you’ve volunteered your help. Though he doesn’t take you up on your offer quite the way you expected him to — as far as cleaning the apartment goes — he does have a job for you… and there’s something in you that just can’t refuse it.

Words: 1,538(+/-)

A/N: I saw a few photos and gifs of Brad going to town on his belly button (posted them all below) and lost my fucking mind!!! God, these are so damn hot😫!!! The idea of him being a gross bastard to his core — just living in dirt — and helping him clean things up is like heaven in my mind… especially after seeing him dig for gold like that. Also, sorry if the writing isn’t the best. It was super late when I first wrote this, and I haven’t revised it in months. Anyway, this story doesn’t really have much to it… it’s literally just the interaction before things get weird… but I may pump out a part 2 for it, if I’m feeling up to it. Anyway, enjoy!!!

Wattpad Link — “Celebrity Worship Fics” Series

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You love going over to Brad's house, it's your favorite hangout spot on the weekends — when you don't have to go to work. You have a good time whenever you're there — playing card games with him and his girlfriend, smoking old cigars, and drinking cheap beer, right out of the case. You feel like a kid in a playground when you're hanging out at his place... but his apartment is far from perfect. Brad's got a pretty major issue with dirt... it seems to pile up wherever he goes. He always got a bunch of shit laid out all over his place — grody, smelly underwear strewn out around the room; old food containers that needed to be thrown away ages ago; and loads of loose, stinking trash. You try to excuse his less-than-satisfactory cleaning habits... as deplorable as they are. He's a close friend of yours... and you grew up with seven older brothers at home — what's a few pairs of nasty underwear to you? If you've learned anything from your childhood, it's that a little dirt never hurt anyone... even if there's a lot of it. You're at Brad's door now — on the first Saturday of the month — waiting for him to answer your knock.

"Hey," he beams, opening up for you, "What's up, mi compadre? It's been a while, huh?" He's standing in his doorway — butt-naked — with only a set of yellow cleaning gloves to cover his hands. It's a nice sight for sore eyes — the look of his lean, toned body... his well-defined v-line, and smooth thighs — but definitely not what you were expecting to see at this time of day.

"Y—Yeah...," you stammer, trying your best to stop your eyes from wandering too far down, "... about a week... I think. How you been... man?"

"Pretty good... pretty damn good." He gives you a quick once-over with his eyes — taking note of the fact that you're wearing clothes — then looks down at himself. "Oh... uh, so about that, mi amigo. It's... uh... cleaning day around here. I like to be free when I clean... let the little guy out for some fresh air, ya know... give 'em a nice mist-bath with the good stuff."

"Uh... cool," you reply, awkwardly staring down and his junk, "Well... I hate to bother you on cleaning day, but are we still on for the evening? I brought this new racing game I think you'd like. You can make your own car... customize the license plate, and all that kind of stuff."

"Nah, man," he sighs, looking back into his den, "Can't today. Gotta fix the place up. You can, uh... come back tomorrow though. I'm game then, if you are." He rubs a hand over his chiseled abs. They're pretty great for a guy who sits around on his ass all day — well defined, like an eight-pack of bread rolls. He's gotta be on steroids, or some hard drugs — it's the only explanation that could make any sense... for everything.

"Yeah... yeah... I'm down with that. I'll definitely come by tomorrow. I'm still free today though... I could stay and help you clean if you need."

He gives you a half-cocked smile. "Nah, man... you don't have to do that."

"Oh... okay. I don't know why I even offered. I'm sure a guy in as good a shape as you can handle a thorough house-cleaning on his own."

"Oh... thanks. You won't believe this, but I'm totally stuffed right now, dude. Found an old box of donuts tucked under my bed... couldn't not eat 'em." He looks down at his stomach, and pulls at the skin on his belly button. "Guess my abs still show pretty nice, huh?"

"Yeah. They're pretty sick."

He pulls up at his skin — admiring each and every ab on his stomach — then tugs at the rim of his belly button once more. "Woah," he says to himself, "Looks pretty gnarly in there. Guess I gotta clean that too. A little spray oughta do."

Brad looks back up at you, with a douchey smirk across his face, and starts poking around inside the hole. His yellow-gloved finger swivels around within the confines of the tight rim, squelching and slipping with the sound of rubber and sweat... it does something to you. You feel yourself getting flustered almost immediately — jittery, and warm all over — although you have no idea exactly why. He's an attractive man — no doubt about that — standing completely naked before you, in all his sculpted glory.... and though he looks like a Roman dream, seeing him in his natural state isn't what's thrown you for a loop. You've been at his door for minutes now, without having a single reaction to his nudity — not even the slightest erection — and yet, the mere sight of him touching his navel has got you throbbing.

"Digging for gold, huh?" You joke, trying to diffuse your sudden tension. "Those gloves really came in handy. Wouldn't wanna get all that gunk on your finger."

"Sure," he shrugs, putting the rubbery digit up to his right nostril. There's specks of black dirt and lint all over it — gross stuff from the depths of his umbilical hole. It's obvious that it hasn't seen a drop of soap in ages... but what else would you expect from a guy like him? Brad's the kind of guy who brags about how many days he can go with a single pair of underwear around his hips (8 days is his most recent record)... who fills his tub up with bleach, to wash his dirty sheets when they start to stink... the kind of slob who eats months-old donuts from under his bed, without a single qualm. "Woah... that stinks," he groans, pulling his head back from his finger, "Get a whiff of that."

He puts his hand up to your face, swiping the black speckles right over your lips. "Woah! God, man! What's on that thing," you exclaim. Acting purely on instinct, you push his hand away, and cover your nose with your shirt. His glove smells disgusting — of old cheese and festering sweat — like the deepest crevice of an armpit, that hasn't seen a single swipe of deodorant for years. You can only describe the odor as... horrid. "Damn, Brad! You gotta spray something in there, dude! What the fuck!"

"I know... that's awful." He closes his eyes for a second, taking another swipe of the scent for himself, and leans in. "You, uh.... said you're free today, right?"

"Yeah... I am."

"Well, uh... if you insist on staying, you could help me clean. An assistant spot just opened up around here... cleaning assistant, that is... and I know a good place where you can start."

"Really? Okay. What do you want me to clean first?"

He grabs your shoulder with his soiled glove, and ushers you into his apartment. "Here's the thing, man. Um... I'm gonna need a little help getting around in there, ya know? Why don't you, uh... get down on the floor... and clean it out for me. I swear it's not a big job... just something quick... for the both of us."

"W—What's that?"

"It's, uh... it's my belly button. Go ahead and get in there for me... clean it up a little." He forces you onto your knees with a smile on his face, looking down at you like you're one of the numerous streetwalkers that he pays to sleep with him, every now and then. "Get going, man... that thing won't clean itself." His dick is right in front of your face — hanging over his balls — half-erect.

"Uh... okay... you answer," staring nervously at his cock. That hot feeling in your face intensifies — shooting throughout your entire body — and commands you to do as he pleases. "Want me to use that blue spray over on the windowsill? That's Windex, right? I think Windex is pretty good on skin."

"No... no," he whispers, "Use your tongue... like a cat. The tongue is a great tool, dude... nature's sponge. They're super sensitive... can get into every nook and cranny of any object. Just feel around in there, man... pick out some of the crap. I know there's a lot more gunk where that came from." His hand gently caresses your chin, pulling you in closer to the shallow hole. You can smell it from where you are — the terrible sweaty odor is ripe on your nostrils.

"The... the crap?"

"Yeah. Go ahead, man... time's a'ticking. Oh, and once you finish the job, I'll let you play that racing game on the TV in my bedroom... while I clean this place up. But you gotta do it well, okay. I'll watch you work... and inspect it once you're done. It don't have to be spotless... just lick around until you don't taste anymore dirt." His dick twitches in front of your face, perking up at the mere thought of you licking his belly button. He's got lust in his eyes, and that same douchey grin on his face — staring down at you. "Now, let's see that pretty little tongue of yours get to work, huh."

"Oh... okay. Sure."

Thanks for reading ❤️❤️❤️!!!

#starry eyes #brad pitt #brad pitt belly/tummy #brad pitt navel #smut fic #brad pitt smut

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koenki · 7 months

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Cyril x Rival

Some Ellis x Gem

Thank you @rosiedreamweaver for this lovely prompt 💙

Contains some suggestive themes

After a little mishap of finding certain books in the closet, Gem had been interested in what sort of series could interest the researcher so much that he had a collection of them. They picked it up themselves, reading through several books in their spare time, enraptured by the writing.

With Halloween quickly arriving, the question of costumes came up.

"Well, you seem to have been enjoying those books, why don't we go as characters from them?" There was a mischievous glint in Ellis' eyes as they spoke. "We could see if Cyril and his partner want to join us?"

Gem looked at them curiously, having met both of them when they came to the shop. "How are you going to convince Cyril to do that?"

"Let me worry about that." They winked and before Gem could ask further, Ellis was already talking about who to dress up as and what to put together for themselves

It also didn't take much convincing to get Cyril's terror on board with the idea of dressing up together, they read the series too, in private of course not to hear their SO's objection about their dirty books. However, they weren't that convinced they would get the elf to partake, figuring he would opt for something as simple as possible to count as a costume, enough that none of them would bother him about it too much.

The day had finally arrived and Rival was in their room putting the final pieces together on themself as they waited for Ellis and Gem to come by. Cyril was in their living room waiting patiently. He had only half his costume as it turned out Ellis had promised him that they would take care of the details of his wardrobe if he agreed to join them, and begrudgingly he did; the main clothing was simply pulled from his own closet anyway.

"Hey babe, mind coming here to help me with this?" They called their partner after fixing up their hair. They heard movement from the next room.

"Why would you decide on a costume you can't get on yourself?" They could hear the sigh in his voice.

"I can, but it's easier with another set of hands. It's not much, don't worry your pretty little head over it." Rival got up from their place in front of a desk mirror and turned towards him. There was a pause in the elf, one of slight surprise it looked like to them when they turned around but Cyril cleared his throat and closed the gap between them.

"Wh-what do you need help with?" His gaze turned away a moment and Rival swore they saw him with a faint flush across his face, hoping that meant the outfit was at least flattering on them.

"This necklace, can you clasp it in the back for me?" They asked, picking it up off the desk to hand to him and turning back around to give access to the back of their neck.

"Fine, fine.." The elf obliged, reaching around and carefully helping with the accessory before they turned back to him with a thank you as he looked over the outfit. He fussed a moment, making sure the top was straightened up a moment, making them laugh at his perfectionism when something caught them off guard as he removed the brooch on their jacket. "It's supposed to be on the left side." He murmured, placing it nice and neat for them as they stared at him in surprise. "..what?"

A mischievous grin came over Rival's face as they looked up at their boyfriend, standing up when he was done to meet his gaze better. "How did you know what side it should be on?"

Cyril felt his muscles tense at this, eyes wide as he took a sharp breath in. They hadn't been together that long, and he had been careful so far to hide his collection from them whenever they went to his apartment. He wanted to walk away from this, call it ridiculous but how long was he going to be able to hide this anyway?

"You read them too don't you? After all the times you made jabs at me and my friends for being dirty minded, you're over here reading adult fiction?"

"Don't lump me in with them I-" His voice cracked a moment before clearing it again, trying to sound calmer than he was. "I read it for the plot."

"Babe… There's a lot going on with that 'plot'. Sure that's what you want to go with?" They leaned in closer to their lover, a smirk playing at their lips as Cyril avoided their gaze a moment before he hummed in agreement. "Then it's safe to say you don't want to.. act out.. any of that plot, hmm?" Their voice was teasing now as their hands went to snake around Cyril's shoulders, pulling him closer. Breath against his lips, chest to chest, they could feel the sharp intake he had at their words, Rival having to do their best not to chuckle at his reaction.

"Act out? Wh-what do you mean?" Oh now he was interested.

"Oh nothing in particular I suppose, since you aren't interested in it. Such a shame, since we have matching costumes, just thought we could have some fun with it." They were clearly teasing, the elf was well aware of this- and it was working. The feel of them so close but not kissing him, keeping pressed up to him without doing anything and filling his head with the options they just handed him, it was all driving him up a wall.

Slowly he felt them begin to pull away from him, making him aware of his surroundings again as he went to wrap his own arms around them, making them stop with a knowing look in their eyes. "Wait I-" He tried searching for a way to say this without seeming too eager himself, face warm at the ideas running through his head now. "I.. never said I was.. opposed to any of.. that." Again his eyes couldn't meet their's, almost as if it would mean admitting defeat.

Coming back to him, they beckoned him to look at them before taking his lips, slow and steady, giving him just a taste of what to expect. Their hands started playing with the hair at the back of his neck and pulling on it, being rougher with him and feeling him melt into their touch before the doorbell rang, signaling Ellis and Gem's arrival. Pulling back just enough to see Cyril, they whispered to him. "A preview for later tonight, hmm?" That laugh under their breath, they were enjoying this a little too much for his liking. They left him in their room, red faced and flustered as they went to answer the door, greeting their friends as if nothing had just happened.

"They're going to be the end of me.." Cyril muttered to himself in a mix of frustration and adoration.

#reverie audios #cyril #ellis #halloween #spooky time lets go #He's so fun to mess with tbh #writings

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eldritch-horror-from-the-void · 8 months

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big mood on the lack of dom!reader x maul. like listen. look at him. pegging that man until he cries would fix me.

UGGHHHEFOIJOIJFEWOIJF

Thank god someone else thinks this way! Almost everyone thinks he's a dom, which is fine, but I don't understand why it's as popular as it is. Idk, maybe it's just a difference of taste in characterization.

More 18+ below cut, kinda just me rambling and throwing out sexy/kinky headcanons.

I could see Sav being dominant, to a very small degree, anyway. Mostly because he seems like he has a breeding kink (you literally cannot convince me otherwise, with all that muscle, random growling, the fact that he would 110% want kids, and given the Nightsister/Nightbrother culture I wouldn't be surprised.) (Would be willing to do more stuff for him!)

Anyway-

Our favorite red Zabrak has internal and external pressures on him almost all the time, let him be a sub. That man needs to relax.

I also can't get the image of him getting pegged, and his horns being roughly handled at the same time, out of my head.

Whimpers when he's teased, might get a little demanding and start moving his hips on his own without permission.

Might tear apart your bed sheets on accident. (Or not on accident if he's being a brat)

Would not want a harsh dom. He's been through too much, and I know kink and trauma can be related to some degree, but I don't see that happening with him.

He'd want a soft dom to gently coo at him, and give him lots of kisses. Not in the degrading way, he genuinely wants to be given affection.

I don't think he'd have a mommy/daddy kink, but he definitely has a praise kink. You don't need to call him a good boy if you're not into that. You just need to tell him that what he's doing feels good.

At some point I started thinking about if Maul would enjoy/be okay with wearing a collar. I don't think he'd wear a strip of leather around his neck with an O-ring. However, he'd probably wear a dedicated piece of Dathomirian jewelry. Or if we're talking marriage-level commitment, he'd get his tattoos modified with something special. (I have a HC that Nightbrothers will get their tattoos changed when they begin to serve a Nightsister, anyhow.)

Sub!Maul getting teased outside of the bedroom would be so cute, and before you can take it too far, he follows you, giving you those puppy eyes, and you can't deny him the attention he wants.

A particular thought I've had in mind about Sub!Maul is about my Eldridge Horror!Reader x Maul AU. In the beginning of the story, Maul summons the reader, and they're drastically confused because he's clearly a male, and he's summoned them??? At first they assume he is an offering, complimenting his physique and power, their hands tracing his muscles and tattoos, circling him like prey. They're not even paying attention to his metal legs. Maul, however, doesn't reply to the compliments, but he really gets turned on likes being complimented by this larger-than-life entity.

This man has not been shown much kindness in the past, and craves it like a drug. From a traumatized child, a hurt teenager, to a lonely adult, his life hardly changed. Even if he'd rather die than admit that out loud.

(Interesting side note: I've been thinking of giving the reader a proper name, but something kinda meta and Lovecraftian/Sucker for Love inspired. So instead of you being referred to as merely "reader" or "y/n," you'd be called "Re'der." Similar to how characters such as Ln'eta have a name spelled/pronounced the way they are.)

I love it when the great Maul simps out there send stuff in. Thank you, and don't be afraid to send more down the line! :) (I might open actual requests or something, but I'm debating it-)

#nsft text #darth maul #darth maul x reader #dom!reader x maul #maul x reader #maul opress #headcanons

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skippyhawk · 5 months

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yes, I absolutely agree about Tim and Hawk's dynamic being kind of flipped in the 60s (and I think it's part of why it's my favorite episode so far). Even though Tim is in a sense dependent on Hawk because Hawk is giving him a place to hide while being on the run, he's the one who is guarded/with his walls up/pushing Hawk away (with good reason), and even though Hawk still can't verbalize his feelings (I cannot get the look on his face in response to "why do you care? about any of this?" OUT OF MY HEAD), to me he seems more emotionally open about his feelings for Tim in 1968 than we've ever seen him be thus far, and he's the one trying to reach out for Tim (emotionally *and* physically more than once) even if he doesn't know how to fix everything.

I also find Hawk's determination to fix everything for Tim and keep him out of jail to be fascinating given that we and Tim knew him as a fixer in the 1950s (which he acknowledged), and he wants so badly to fix this for Tim, and yet the episode ends with him watching with pain in his eyes as Tim turns himself in (and then, even more interestingly, using Tim's words from seminary to try and fix his relationship with Jackson by creating a moment of connection and comfort).

Thank you for indulging me with these asks, I love hearing your thoughts and if you don't mind my rambling I'll probably send more as we wait for the last 2 eps ahhh

it was definitely one of my favorites as demonstrated by that fever-induced unusually poetic defensive textpost i dropped straight after... i even had a brief discussion about it with some of my irls and my sister lmao

anyways yes, firstly on the dynamic flips. i do think there’s more to come on that. it seems like these shifting roles they seem to take on in each other’s lives (“carer”, savior, etcetc) will be a reoccurring theme post-50s.

secondly, to me a lot of hawk’s actions in the sixth episode seem slightly panicked (understatement of the century) because he’s truly trying to hold on to tim but it’s not working this time, which in turn literally has him agitated; he wants tim to stay. not only because the threat of prison is very real, especially to him and his wellbeing, but because he doesn’t want to let tim go again. despite this he, as per, hides behind his words and simultaneously leaves the most crucial things unsaid. i believe hawk’s a very “show, don’t tell” type of person. except he usually tends to avoid the showing part as well. (lol)

his franctic behavior seemingly begins with worrying about what might happen if tim does get sent to prison but it leaks through very quickly how he’s actually particularly shaken by tim’s resistance. in all honesty i think he’s been so used to having that certain control over him, most likely finding comfort in knowing that if he wants tim to stay, he will. there’s probably some primal freakout happening inside his head there lol. he does also seem visibly worried about how deep into his faith and denying himself tim has sunk again.

thirdly, i think hawk actually seems at his most vulnerable in the ’80s. i think the reality of tim being ill and possibility of him simply not being around anymore truly shook something deep inside him and spurred some kind of overgrown shrouded gears inside his head into action. to me it seems he’s having some pretty fucking heavy realizations but it’s also obvious after decades he’s finally prioritizing this huge part of himself and the truths, good and bad, that come with it. with finally letting himself just be you can tell how he’s immediately opening himself up more to tim too, sharing his thoughts instead of shoving them down, being there when it matters most. a perfect example of this is him walking into tim’s apartment and within minutes practically stating that actually, he’s not afraid of the disease– he’s afraid of losing him.

in my opinion hawk telling tim he’s “not sure of anything anymore” is truly a pivotal moment in his life. there’s a certain sense of beginning there. something has changed everything and nothing will be the same again.

it’s also why despite the bitterness, tragedy and supposed finality of it all ’80s tim and hawk are already so dear to me personally.

obviously i’m still positively petrified just imagining where they might go with the story next but i certainly hope you and obviously anyone else that’s willing will have thoughts to share or discussions to spark as the final episodes roll out...!

#fellow travelers #damn i just can’t stop talking about this show it’s actually crazy #actually brainrotting like badly #need to be sedated #ft ramble

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coupleoffanfics · 10 months

Text

I'm thinking of having batsis y/n be borderline Yandere for Jeremiah. Not full-on or anything. Just loves him to a degree that it could arguably be called obsessive and unhealthy. She doesn't have many people in her social circle, but the few she does have (Barbara, Norah, and Jeremiah) she holds onto for dear life. She just holds on to Jeremiah a little tighter because they're in a romantic relationship.

She's into the idea of true love and there being someone fated for everyone, but doesn't believe it. Just likes the idea of it. Has thought of what their wedding would be like and thought of baby names after a few months of dating. Living a nice house far, far away from Gotham. Won't admit it though because she knows how its a bit weird.

(Pre-Spray) Any trouble in their relationship y/n is determined to fix it, but it's not like it ever happens often. She's so afraid of him leaving her because she did something wrong. Although her biggest fear is him leaving her for another woman. That he finally realized that there are infinitely better options than her. If that were to happen, I mean it wouldn't but still, y/n wouldn't do anything about it. Cry alone and reinforce the idea that everyone is better than her. 'He's moved on and he deserves happiness just like everyone else.' y/n thinks to herself eating a tub of ice alone in her apartment.

When Echo comes around y/n is internally screaming and also has bi/pan thoughts. y/n gets the reason for Echo and whatnot, but she can't help feeling insecure. Echo is smarter than her and probably doesn't have undiagnosed dyslexia like her. Echo is an excellent fighter who brings up an old insecurity she has when around the Batfamily. Echo is also just so much cooler as well while y/n freaks out about everything. Don't even bring up how hot Echo is. y/n lets out a frustrated sigh, "Yeah, yeah, I know. Echo is hot as fuck and I'd call her mommy if I wasn't with Miah." "I was just asking how your day was."

(Post-Spray) This is when the tables turn actually no. This is when the tables are flipped. y/n wants to still love Jeremiah so badly. She wants to be okay with what he's doing, but just can't. The cult, the death, the destruction is too much. She feels like she failed him. If only she went to the family sooner rather than later. If only she was stronger.

Now for the first time, she has to let go of someone. Not slowly, but rip them out of her heart and never let them back it. No matter how much she tries to stop loving him, she always seems to fall back. He burrowed himself into her heart a long time ago. She'll never stop loving him deep down, but she'll sure as hell try to hide that from the family. Can't handle the judgmental looks she'd get especially with Jeremiah looking a lot like the Joker.

BONUS

y/n snuggles into Jeremiah's side while sitting on the couch. A documentary is playing on the TV. She doesn't even know what it's about because she's thinking of the reasons why Echo is so much better than her in every conceivable. Her blond hair was neat while y/n's was a [hair color] mess. Everything about her was perfect, maybe even down to her blood type.

Bottling up isn't helping and y/n knew she'd have to talk about it with Jeremiah. As soon as the thought popped into her mind she opened her mouth. Knowing that she wouldn't have this impulsive courage later and end up bottling everything once more.

"Hey, honey. Darling, sugar, Miah, Jem, Jim, sweetheart, dreamboat, hot stuff, McSteamy-" Anytime she wants Jeremiah's attention she'll start calling him pet names off the top of her head. Every time it makes his ears turn red. "Did you just call me McSteamy?" y/n shrugs her shoulders, "Did you like it?" Without thinking about it he says no with a flat tone making her smile and lightly laugh.

"Okay, no McSteamy. I'll keep that in the bedroom."

"y/n!" She slightly tilts her head back to laugh at his reaction. He rolls his eyes trying to suppress a smirk. She isn't sure if she's laughing because she's nervous or finds his reaction that funny. Probably a mix of both. After her laughter dies down he asks, "What is it."

The smile on her face disappears. Her pointer finger starts twirling some of her hair and her cheeks are turning pink. It felt so embarrassing to say it out loud. Yet she took a breath and said, "I'm jealous of Echo." Jeremiah can not get a word in because y/n is listing off a hundred things now. Half of things aren't even related to Echo it's just y/n's insecurities. Once she's done she looks at him like her life is in his hands.

Jeremiah needs a moment because he has whiplash from the sudden mood shift. Collecting his thoughts he tells that there isn't anything to worry about. This doesn't ease y/n in the slightest as he watches her [eye color] eyes shift away from him. He can feel his face burning before he even says the sappiest thing in his life.

"Look, y/n, I...I really care about what we have. The whole time we've been together you've...you've made me really happy. Happier than I've been in a long time, maybe ever. Echo and I are strictly professional and I have no interest in her because you know why?" y/n looks at him to continue. "Because she isn't you." A big goofy smile appeared on her face. She bit down on her tongue to spot herself from giggling.

"Aw, thank you. I really needed to hear that and you make me unbelievably happy as well." Jeremiah isn't sure if y/n is being her expressive self or if he actually needs to express his feelings more. He kind assumed that she knew how he felt about their relationship. "Honestly, Echo has been making me have some gay thoughts, but glad that I have nothing to worry about it. I need to use the bathroom, I'll be right back."

Leaving Jeremiah with another case of whiplash.

#jeremiah x batsis reader #jeremiah valeska x reader #batsis reader idea

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winksasleeplesseye · 1 year

Text

obscura (one)

SUMMARY: Six years have passed. And Amara can't help but think about them as she heads for her next mission, recounting a pair of blue eyes and blonde hair and just what the government has done thus far.

WORD COUNT: 5.8k

WARNINGS: mentions of violence, cursing, experimentation implied, angst

[SERIES MASTERLIST]

London

October 2004

Amara’s headspace had become more and more frequently a comfort these days. A more refined person would call it a mind palace, a memory palace, etc.

She found living in memories, in moments of calm, had become an anchor for her. Between every punishing mission, she’d find a quiet place and drift and daydream into this place. Her mind conjured up images of a familiar, yet slowly unfamiliar pair of blue eyes and blonde hair but she couldn’t produce much else. But it was enough for her.

Leon was becoming a distant memory since Raccoon City and that scared her more than anything, not being able to see him or talk to him after everything is agonizing.

Sure, she had her outlets like kickboxing classes in the gym down the street from her apartment with that stupidly hot instructor John, sporadic visits coordinated by that weasely bastard Simmons with Sherry and Claire, and other things like music and painting but companionship was something she’d craved. Maybe too much sometimes. That was something that still made her just like everyone else.

Things moved at a breakneck pace after they’d been picked by the government in the aftermath. Once it became known just what Amara carried now forever in her blood, did the threats come for her by the very same government that she thought would protect them.

Now, she’s just a weapon—correction, an agent to do their bidding, their science experiment. Wesker did this to you. Keeping her mouth shut about Raccoon also guaranteed her safety and not just hers but Leon’s, Claire’s, and Sherry’s safety.

Another part of her wanted desperately to find the man who put her in this position in the first place. But that didn’t matter now. Wherever he is, she hopes it’s nowhere good.

Above everything else, Amara wanted nothing more than to keep her new allies—friends safe. Most of all, Leon.

She lets out a pitiful laugh to herself, thinking about him, her eyes focused on the road ahead. If she’d known everything that would’ve happened after that night in the motel, she would’ve held him longer, tighter. Kissed him more and savored the taste of his lips on hers, the feel of him inside her.

Even in their last interaction, deep down she knew she shouldn’t have let go.

See you later had shifted from what she thought would only be days, weeks, months…to six long years.

Rain pelted down against the tan leather of her jacket, she couldn’t find it in herself to even wear a helmet as she weaved through the traffic on her bike. Something about the rain against her face reminded her that she was alive.

With what she’s paid? A quick trip to the salon would fix her right up anyways. She actually didn’t quite mind when her hair reverted to its natural state.

Cutting down a narrow alley, she stops short in front of a parked van in front of what seems to be a derelict building. It’s black, inconspicuous, and with this weather? Practically invisible.

Her eyes venture up at the dilapidated sign above the said building. King Arthur’s Sword in the Stone attraction.

“There seems to be a fine line between coincidence and irony.” She says to no one in particular. The window of the van rolls down and an unfamiliar man sticks his head out.

“Good evening, Agent Moore.” The man smiles, a little too cheerful for Amara’s taste. “I’m Joe, I’ll be your support on this mission from here.”

A crack of lightning brightens the area momentarily. “I thought supports usually stayed in an office?”

“Courtesy of the government, this is my base of operations,” Joe, with a hint of a British accent she notices, gestures to the back, Amara briefly sees the high-tech screens and monitors.

All to keep her in line, she’s sure. For a brief moment, the lyrics of that stalker song by The Police play in her head. Every breath you take, every move you make, every bond you take, every step you take, I’ll be watching you… “Right. So you’re telling me there’s an old Umbrella facility underneath a King Arthur attraction?”

“According to our intel, yes, unfortunately. There was actually some nonsense of the real King Arthur’s tomb here years ago…soon discredited.”

“And yet another roadside attraction was born,” she jokes. “Let’s see what we can see, shall we?”

She doesn’t wait for Joe’s answer, opting to head to the wall to climb up from the gutter into an open window at the top. Dropping gracefully into the expansive space, decorated distastefully and quite cheesy for a King Arthur attraction.

“Joe, hear me loud and clear?” Amara pressed the comms system on her ear.

“Clearer than clear, love.”

“Good, hopefully, this will be educational for you.”

“Learning from one of the top agents in the US division is more than an honor.” The thought of being a top agent at one point would’ve made Amara proud but now it felt like a stain that's never washed clean.

Covert operations never did seem like things deserving of the honor.

Crates and other knick knacks lay about haphazardly. “If I were an evil pharmaceutical company, where would I hide a lab?”

“I thi-“

“That was rhetorical.”

Amara ventured further in, finding more opulent, ornate items scattered throughout the various ridiculous set pieces. Jill would’ve thought it was a good score. The goofy narrations made her chuckle; were they really trying to actually educate anyone about the King Arthur tale?

Many times in her schooling, particularly on the subject of English literature, her teachers would talk of how King Arthur’s life and deeds gave way to the Arthurian legends. The once tried and true history nerd inside of her would’ve devoured this silly attraction.

Now, she can’t exactly imagine sitting down to read much of anything except lots and lots of mission reports. When she wasn’t reading them, she was certainly writing them.

At least going on missions broke up the monotony. The routine that had become so much of her life as of late. Another side objective to this mission, one that HQ told her not to really divulge anyone of, was her search for paintings. Not just any paintings either; these ones were linked to Umbrella’s former leader, Oswell E. Spencer.

She had found 4 out of about 5 (luckily the man never quite got them all in his possession), spanning across the globe, each one portraying demonic, disturbing imagery. HQ claimed they held “power” within the paint which was just about the stupidest thing she’d ever heard but in a world with the most grotesque monsters created by a human hand, was it that stupid?

Something about each one, despite the thoughts of its stupidity, intrigued her because of the symbols within the image but she did as told, destroying them (and those who protected them). All her intel pointed her to this place but there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in July that it was actually here.

“How long ago did this place close down?” Amara asks, tiptoeing over water-damaged pieces of wood. “This place certainly is not up to code.”

“The illustrious owner, a…uh, Professor Kenneth Whitman went bankrupt in 2003, it’s been closed ever since then,” Joe answers, “Madness, right?”

“I shudder to think that that man had students, but shudder even more at how much disrepair this place has fallen into within a short amount of time.”

Amara attempted to test her royalty, pulling up the aforementioned sword in the stone with no luck. No power. No King Arthur glory for Amara. And certainly no way further inside. “Looks like I’ll need to switch on the breaker, wherever it is.”

“Map shows a side alley entrance, check there?”

Ugh, back out in the rain? She really didn’t want to go through another period of drying out inside this dank, almost humid place to getting soaked by London’s neverending rain again. This is what I signed up for, remember?

Yeah, yeah, yeah. But that didn’t mean she enjoyed it. She sighed, following the map displayed on her communicator, the newest gadget added to her gear.

After traversing over the cast iron gates outside to switch on the breaker, only then does the power cut back on. Light pours out from the windows of the attraction, illuminating the rain as it hits the pavement.

“And let there be light,” she deadpans, it still earns her a chuckle from Joe through the comms in her ear.

Through all the narrations and displays, somehow Amara finds that she’s disappointed just a tad that the very room that supposedly was meant to get to the truth of the myths of King Arthur had now been converted into a storage facility.

“So much for getting to the truth of King Arthur.”

“Give the Professor some credit, at least he chose the most boring part to convert. Besides, who wants to know the actual truth anyway?”

“You’d be surprised,” Amara responded, finding a crack in the wall furthest from an exit beaming red from the fluorescent light above it. She knocked on it, finding the whole wall is hollow. Her eyes also happen upon a forklift, just asking to be used.

Operating it should be simple enough, right? It’s like operating a claw machine…with two metal sticks on the front. Joe seems to scoff, obviously watching her feed. “Is this what they teach you agents in America?”

“No, we usually just shoot our problems. But I thought I'd give this a try." Amara quipped.

He laughed. “I don't know about the forklift, but they definitely teach the sarcasm."

“Oh no, sarcasm is when I say the opposite of what I mean. Wit is when I say exactly what I mean, but in a way that makes you wish you had thought of it first."

“Lesson number one with Agent Moore? Wish I had grabbed a notepad.”

“I charge for lessons by the hour, Joe. Hope you’re ready to pay up when I get back there.”

“I’m good for it, love.”

The forklift did its job, taking down the wall to reveal…a secret entrance to a cavern. Amara pretended to be shocked, but she’s not. “Oh, wow, they hid that sooo well.”

“Is that sarcasm?”

“Yes, Joe,” she answered, hopping off the forklift. “This next part will require some silence, mate.”

All she hears is a small hum from Joe in her ear before the line is dead silent. Thank the gods above he knew when to be quiet.

The cavern is shrouded in darkness just beyond what Amara can see with the forklift’s headlight, so she flicked on her flashlight finding the craggy rocks bending and forming crudely to reveal a path. It seems to descend rather than just go straight forward. Huh, so it goes underground? This just keeps getting better, doesn’t it, Amara?

It’s a bit of a tight squeeze in some places, especially with all her gear, but she manages. More and more static filters through her comms in her ear the deeper she goes, so she lowers it. She almost wanted to let out a sigh of relief at the fact that she was finally alone even momentarily.

Eventually, the cavern begins to open up, an almost ominous humming echoing off the walls of the cavern as she gets closer to…

…a lab? Down here?

Well, at least the intel was correct.

The humming, she found, emanates from a big generator nearby which is hooked into a cavern wall. The wires seemed to lead nowhere, perhaps they were powered on with the breaker above ground? It looked more and more likely.

“Does this shit ever get less complicated?”

In 2003, after a lengthy trial that led to the dissolution of Umbrella and loss in stocks, the US Government, in a rare show of giving a shit, went after all involved with the company but that didn’t absolve their part in blowing Raccoon sky high. Hence, why she was here, partly.

While she’d been on other tasks (very much like the government’s goddamn lackey), this one was of the utmost importance. After RC, the government under USSTRATCOM formed the Anti-Umbrella Pursuit and Investigation Team. To no surprise, she alongside Leon are their main operators (though it wasn’t like they had much of a choice).

The current administration, Graham and his lovely cabinet, actually seemed to want to take down as many Umbrella adjacent so she’d spent the better half of last year during the RC trials and this year doing this.

Outside of her Umbrella pursuits, she’d heard of something going on with the President’s daughter but that currently wasn’t under her jurisdiction, technically she wasn’t even supposed to be aware of that.

There was some…mole within sectors so while usually Amara would be flanked by at least two other agents, now it’s down to just her. For reconnaissance purposes, it makes sense. The fewer agents, the less information could slip between the cracks. A smart tactic at the time, smart keeps most people safe.

But now in hindsight, it seems kind of absurd that one lone agent is tasked to find what could very well be an active Umbrella facility.

A sleek doorway stood before her, a sense of deja vu took her by surprise. The doors opened with no trouble, and the overwhelming smell of rust and damp concrete mixed with unused chemicals lingered in the air. Almost by instinct, Amara drew her Beretta, taking a moment to scan the surroundings.

The eerie silence was only broken by the sound of her footsteps echoing off the walls.

Dimly lit corridors made her a little cautious, only her trusty flashlight in her other hand guiding her next steps. The place was in disarray, with broken machinery, debris, and paperwork scattered everywhere…it must’ve been a hell of a time escaping this place.

Amara didn’t scare easily but she couldn’t shake the chills up her spine and flare in her nostrils. Taking in deep breaths, she pushed on and focused on what she came here for. The facility is empty as she suspected, so her next steps were getting information and finding the painting.

A glint of something shiny on the ground just so happened to fall in the line of her sight.

“Well, hello there,” she bent down and picked it up. A small metal disc with Umbrella’s logo shines briefly in her vision, a small bit of her reflection displayed within the iridescent surface.

She pockets it and keeps moving.

Chancing it, she raises the volume back up on her comms. There’s no longer static so that’s a relief. Except now, she had to work a little harder to hear considering the comms tended to block out sound quite well when cranked up, so well, in fact, that she could hear her own footsteps reverberate through to her skull, maybe even hear her own brain knocking around it if she focused hard enough.

“Joe?” She speaks and for a few seconds, there’s a nerve-wracking silence.

His one-syllable answer practically rattles her skull from the vibration, “Yes?”

Oh, thank god. Joe may be a tad annoying but at least there was someone to get her through this creepy-ass atmosphere. “Nothing. Just checking that you’re still there.”

“Were you getting lonely?” There’s a teasing tone to his words that she doesn't appreciate. Fuck, especially here of all places. “If you needed a big, brave man to accompany you, all you had to do was ask.”

And there he goes ruining it. Some support he is. “Shut up.”

“No need to be touchy.”

One thing she’d learned about these paintings is that they tended to be within a shrine of sorts, or blatantly on display. Judging by the narrow hallways and the dim lighting, barely even lighting as much as the shoes on Amara’s feet, she definitely doubts that the painting is here. Seriously, who would even have a shrine down here?

She paused in front of a rusted door, her hand hovering over the handle. After a moment's hesitation, she pushed it open and stepped into the room beyond. The final room within the lab is a computer lab of sorts, though all the computers are ten years behind. Blocky, huge, and ugly to look at.

As she began to sift through the piles of documents laid atop the desks, Amara's eyes fell on a computer with its screen turned on, nestled in the far corner.

It’s sleek, newer, and curvier than blocky. Someone was showing off to their colleagues.

That same computer spits lined papers of what seems to be numbers onto the floor. It must’ve also cut back on with the breaker.

“Joe? You seeing this?” She raises one of the pages to eye level.

“Yeah, what are they?”

40.4637° N, 3.7492° W…that layout…these were coordinates. She ran her fingers over the papers, reading them out quietly. Where could these lead?

“Coordinates. Think if I give you a few, you could find where they are?”

“Give me—“ Joe cuts himself off, shuffling sounds coming from her comms, “alright, give me the numbers.”

She reads them out at an even pace, making sure that Joe could catch every number.

This time, his brief silence has her on the edge of a hypothetical seat. It annoys the shit out of her. “Well?”

“Hmm…” Joe’s small noise is filled with confusion, a first for him that she’s willing to bet on. “These coordinates were pulled recently. Coordinates are in Spain.”

Spain? Pulled recently? So maybe the heebie-jeebies she was getting from that place meant someone else was there not too long before she got there. But, her senses had been too good, she would’ve picked up on someone sooner.

“Think it’s another former Umbrella researcher? Trying to reach out? Maybe another facility?” Amara hypothesized, it was the only logical thing that came to her.

Joe laughs, though it doesn’t sound like he finds any of this particularly hilarious. “Highly doubt there’s people still that devoted to Umbrella.”

Amara always divided former Umbrella employees into two categories: the devoted and the wise. She always liked the wise, for one thing, they weren’t as dumb as the devoted (for researchers, they sure didn’t use their brains). The wise researchers knew to get the fuck outta dodge as soon as they even whiffed the brewing disaster. The devoted? Oh, they’d been drinking the red Kool-Aid for so long.

Apprehending the devoted made her feel as though she’d left the real world behind and entered the world of Alice in Wonderland. They’d taken to the primrose path, the path of fantasy and illusion, believing themselves to be doing right with Umbrella as their guide through and through.

Regardless, both bled the same.

“I think these coordinates will be worth a look. At least I won’t be leaving here empty-handed,” Amara replied. No painting, though. Guess that’d be for another mission.

The return to the above ground is far less treacherous, a bit anticlimactic but she likes that. She’s well-equipped to engage in a little hand-to-hand combat, all thanks to Uncle Sam but these jeans were far too nice to get messed up. Who knew that she could throw a man off balance by just using her legs? Those were the better parts of training, the others she hoped would never resurface in her brain. She’d gotten good at dividing parts of her life now into sections.

Climbing up the way she came in, she drops right down outside into a puddle, splashing a bit of her bootlaces with rainwater. It already seeped into her socks. Gross.

She lets out a deep breath as she walks back over to Joe’s van (she’s not calling that thing a base, no matter how much he convinced her), holding out the disc she’d found earlier. “Mission accomplished?”

He runs it over and over through his fingers, appraising it for its usefulness to the reports he’d no doubt have to write too. “Mission accomplished. Well done, Agent Moore.”

“Now you and your mystery van can skedaddle.” Amara waves her hands towards the road, chancing her eyes back towards the attraction. She sees a flash of red atop the roof.

Joe chuckles briefly, turning his attention to starting up the van. He’s none the wiser to what Amara has her eyes set on.

No fucking way.

Talk about a ghost story.

Amara makes sure that Joe drives off before following the trail. Could she have left well enough alone and got back to her hotel? Yes, absolutely. But at her core, she knows she’s curious as hell. Always had been. Besides wanting to protect others, she always had a curiosity to know all there is to know.

And right now, she wanted to know why Ada Wong is haunting this attraction.

Amara carefully plans her steps, trying to avoid detection by the woman as she watches from afar. Ada moves through as if she knew the place like the back of her hand.

The path narrows, making it more than a little difficult for Amara to conceal her presence.

“Well, well, well…” Amara announces herself, and for the first time since she’s known Ada, she notices a minute jump in her shoulders. “Didn’t take you for a history buff.”

Ada is slow to turn around but wears what seems to be a trademark smirk on her face, like she always knew something that no one else knew… most of the time she does.

“I could say the same to you.”

Ada and Amara now faced each other in the dimly lit hallway. The only sound that could be heard was the stupid, cheesy narration about the Lady of the Lake. Amara was tense, ready to fight, but also conflicted. Despite everything that had happened, she couldn't quite bring herself to hate Ada.

"So, you're the one who's been tailing me," Ada said, a smirk still ever present on her face. "I'm flattered."

Amara is puzzled by her words, she only stumbled upon Ada by chance. If anyone was tailing anyone, it had to be the other way around.

"I'm not here to tail you," Amara said, raising her fists. "I'm here on a different mission but stopping you from causing any trouble would be a benefit.”

Ada laughed. "And here I thought we were friends."

"We're not friends," Amara retorted. "But I don't hate you either."

"Good," Ada said, as she lunged forward with a swift kick. Amara blocked it easily, her training kicking in. The two women traded blows, each trying to gain the upper hand. Amara was quick and agile, an added benefit to whatever pumped through her blood, but Ada was more experienced and calculated in her movements.

As they fought, Amara couldn't help but think about the strange friendship that was developing—well, redeveloping— between them. She and Ada were on opposite sides, and now they crossed paths once again. Maybe it was just the adrenaline talking, but Amara found herself almost liking Ada.

"You know," Amara said, as they continued to fight. "I really don't hate you, Ada. I kind of like you, in a twisted sort of way."

Ada raised an eyebrow, seemingly surprised by Amara's admission. "Is that right? Well, that's good to know. Maybe we can be friends after all."

Amara smiled, just as she landed a punch on Ada's jaw. Ada stumbled back, but recovered quickly, launching herself into the fight.

Despite their differences, Amara and Ada fought with fierce intensity, each determined to come out on top. In the end, Ada emerged victorious, but as she helped Amara to her feet, the two women shared a small, knowing smile. Maybe they weren't enemies after all.

“With that in mind, you’ll have to forgive me, friend.”

Ada moves quickly, too quick for Amara to stop her. Jabbing a needle into her neck with efficiency. Not even her body could fight whatever was within the syringe.

Things become unfocused, and blurry as she stumbles back, away from Ada. She clutches her throat, every muscle in it closing up. The last thing Amara sees is Ada standing over her, she fights to get out one crucial word, “Bitch.”

Hours later

Amara jolts awake, gasping for air, expecting to shoot upwards but she finds that she can’t move. At all. Upon further inspection, she realizes she’s strapped down to a cold, hard table.

The brightness of the light above her blinding, making it hard to see beyond its edges. How long had she been unconscious?

The last thing she remembered is London, King Arthur, and…Ada. God damn it. That’s the last time she lets her defenses down so easily. So much for being friends.

She pulled and struggled against the restraints, hoping that “enhanced strength” would actually come in handy but found they were very unbudgeable.

“I wouldn’t mess with those if I were you,” a voice with an accent sounds off, “they were made just for you.”

Amara turned her head, finding a curly-haired man leaning against the adjacent wall, his eyes scanning between her and the lab equipment next to him. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Eso es irrelevante, encantador, ¿no?” There’s an almost sleaziness to his tone, it reminded her of the creeps you’d find on a busy street as they tried to catcall.

Amara sneered. “Considering you’re holding me captive? It’s very relevant.”

“I don’t find pleasure in this, precioso.”

She laughs lightly, he was laying it on pretty thick. “Amara. As much as I love an ego boost, call me by my name.”

“Amara, I am not the one holding you captive.”

“Okay…if it’s not you, then who is it? How long have I been here?”

“Long enough for me to take your blood,” he gestures to a machine, about 3 vials of red liquid sitting inside it.

“What?!”

“Relax, eh, I haven’t done anything with it. At least not anything they’d want.”

Amara couldn’t find it in herself to put up with the back and forth anymore. If she’d learned anything from Raccoon City, it’s that time is of the essence and mincing words and being secretive got you nowhere good. “Enough with the runaround what you really mean bullshit. Get to the point.”

The man comes close to her side, eyes darting around quickly before focusing his attention on her. Apprehension seemed to spring up in him on a dime. Whoever he worked for certainly must have him spooked.

“There’s an infection, a virus, going around this village. I believe with your blood, they want to strengthen the strain. They call it Las Plagas.”

So that’s why Ada brought her here. To be used in someone else’s nefarious game. Using her own bioorganic chemistry against her, against others. Amara was really beginning to think whoever Ada worked for and her own government was one and the same. Two sides of the same fucked up coin.

“Great, you’ve already stolen my blood, so why tell me this?”

“I’m a biologist. I think—no, know that I can reverse engineer a vaccine. Something to stave off symptoms.”

With his admission of this, Amara senses a serious case of deja vu once more. It’s John all over again. The intercepted email he wrote echoed in this man’s words, “Seriously, fuck these guys. Innocent people are getting hurt.”

“How long would that take? I can’t imagine your employers are just going to let that happen under their noses.”

“This is my lab, not theirs,” Luis said simply. “Think you can stand being strapped down a little longer?”

Amara didn’t exactly want to trust this man. He’d given up this information so easily, what was to say he wouldn’t turn on her at some point? But, throwing caution to the wind, she goes along. Well, it’s not exactly like she had much of a choice, considering she’s the one strapped to a table, god knows where.

“Just get on with it.”

“Name’s Luis, by the way. Luis Serra.”

She nods in understanding, training her eyes on a corner of the wall to try and take her mind elsewhere. The hum of the lab equipment takes over the silence of the room. At least Luis seems to realize that he didn’t have to take up the air in the room by talking every second. Amara appreciates that.

Her eyes move towards the other end of the lab, scanning over tubes filled with bubbling liquids, diagrams of molecular specifications, X-rays of subjects unknown to her, and, on the far wall, calculations of specific chemicals and their reactions. Whatever was going on, Luis’ employers had been going at it for quite some time.

Amara is certainly no biologist but training in the government, you had to know some science. It wasn’t just close-quarters combat or weapons training, agents needed an analytical mind and the ability to recognize specimens, especially biological weapons now.

Training with the government wasn’t too unlike the police academy, though there was the unfortunate thing of everyone, everyone, keeping their eyes on her. Her reputation preceded her and the same could be said for Leon.

There wasn’t a place in training where she didn’t hear utterances and whispers about him but he became just as elusive there as he was to her now. Upon learning that Leon was there, to begin with, pissed her off, they’d clearly gone against their deal but it’s not like she could do anything about it.

And anyway, the government must have a personal vendetta about keeping them apart. But for her in the same circles, she was the subject. The Subject. Never her and never by name. There was another one she’d heard from recruits as she passed. Dark Angel.

Dark Angels were known for their inability to fall and their brutality, well, at least to the mythos Amara had read. Still, she couldn’t stand either choice of names bestowed upon her.

In a way, both were dehumanizing. A reminder of the distinction between her and everyone else. Amara certainly didn’t want to be separated from everyone else. It’s not like she asked to be turned into some science project. As much as Amara hated to, she looked on the bright side…it certainly made her infinitely more interesting than she actually was.

At some point, Amara found that she couldn't keep her eyes open, her eyes fought against the almost burning lids, but it was no use.

She drifts off, finding that familiar set of blue eyes calling to her again. Man, were they pretty.

Amara is now sitting up when she wakes up for the second time. Still strapped down, still not-so-cozy and there was a very chilly draft that lingered around, thanks to whoever stole her jacket—but overall this was much better than the hard table.

Shit, they took her sidearm too? Why is she only just now noticing? This place is beginning to suck more and more.

One thing she hadn’t been warned of was her lungs burning, her eyes stinging, she had to fight for her first breath. She lets out a few coughs, her breathing returning to its normal pace. But, a weariness sat in her muscles that she couldn’t shake.

Luis…

…where was he? How long had she slept this time? What the hell had he done since she’d been asleep?

As if to answer her question, Luis runs inside the lab, with an urgency he didn’t possess before. At first, she couldn’t hear him, her senses hadn’t quite progressed past pain. Then she heard shouts. Whispers. Murmurs.

Luis was yelling. Yelling at her. He was trying to coax her into consciousness in any way he could. “We have to go now!”

“Go? Go where?” She asks while Luis undid the straps. Her legs wobbled as she stood, all the strength was gone momentarily but she regained her footing quickly.

“Anywhere but here,” Luis pulls out a Red9, places a magazine in it, cocking it, and holding it at the ready. “You ready for an escape, Amara?”

“Is that even a question?”

He grinned and cocked his head towards the door. Amara hadn’t felt a rush like this in a long time. Something about it reminded her of Raccoon City in a sick, twisted kind of way. Luis grabbed her wrist and tugged her along, setting them both off into a sprint down long corridors and dimly lit passages with side doors and passcodes.

Amara’s eyes widened at just the enormity of this place, this was all Luis’ lab? There was no time to pause and gawk; getting the fuck out of here took priority, otherwise, both of them would be dead.

“I guess this is a bad time to ask, but why are we running?” She questions between heaving breaths. Running and talking at the same time especially after only just being able to breathe again are not things Amara enjoyed doing.

“Do you really want to-”

“Yes!” Amara interrupted him, ripping her hand from his to get a better pace going.

Luis stops short as the hall opens up to a big space. Amara barely has a second to register his ceasing movement, preventing herself from all but crashing into his back. “That’s why.”

Amara follows his line of sight, upon seeing what he’s referring to, she laughs bitterly. “Are you fucking for real right now?”

This gigantic asshole stomped in through the door that Amara assumed was their ticket to freedom. He was dressed not unlike a monster she’d seen before, but this guy had a beard, yellow eyes, and sickly pallor to his skin and could talk. Wasn’t it bad enough that she had been kidnapped? But now she had to deal with this shithead? God must be playing a cruel joke on her.

Luis reached for his gun, but before he could draw it, the man’s towering figure charged at them. Amara tried to dodge, but the giant man grabbed her by the shoulder and threw her against a nearby table. She felt a searing pain in her side as something sharp pierced her skin.

He’s not here for me.

Luis fired his gun at him, but it had no effect on the hulking monster. As he advanced on him, Luis ducked out of the way, practically army-crawling to get to her.

"We have to go, now!" he yelled, dragging Amara behind him as they ran towards the door.

Amara stumbled, her head spinning. She could feel blood oozing from the fresh wound in her side and knew they had to keep moving if they wanted to survive.

Just as she thought they might make it out alive, Mendez lunged towards them, his massive hand closing around Amara's neck from behind. The man was quicker than she thought he’d be. She gasped for air as he lifted her off the ground, the world spinning around her.

Mendez's grip tightened around Amara's neck as she struggled to breathe. She clawed at his arms, but it was no use. She was trapped.

"At least buy me dinner first!" Amara gasped out, her eyes flickering with anger.

But it was too late. Mendez hurled her across the room, her body slamming into a nearby table with a sickening crack.

Everything went black.

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