peachfvzz.

your fuck up. it hits her like a fucking FREIGHT TRAIN. because that's what this is, isn't it ?? the thing she can't say – what it all means – all of that is because SHE FUCKED UP. isn't that why she reinvented herself ?? became someone NEW ?? her chest hurts – everything hurts. she wants to curl up in a ball and hide. vico keeps looking at her like they can SEE the guilt written into her features. like they already know it's her fault. but they asked what she means, and for one awful, hopeful moment, reagan has the sense to stop being afraid they already know everything, because how would they ?? but then anger runs hot all over again. because she doesn't OWE a casual fling some of the WORST moments of her life, but she also doesn't want vico to be casual. the tears don't stop. but the only thing to do is be honest, her back is pressed against the wall. proverbially, and physically. like she's been subconsciously backing away from the evidence since they held it up. "he's dead." she doesn't know what else to say, but the guilt and the nausea are becoming overwhelming. she can't get control of herself. "i'm not DOING THIS." she can't keep swallowing her own self loathing. but reagan doesn't break. she doesn't tremble. it's not in her nature anymore. so instead, she does a decidedly non-reagan thing, and slips behind the door of the bathroom. like hiding in a corner will make her feel better. but she's so FUCKING EMBARRASSED. the heals of her hands press hard into her eyes, like if she just pushes enough the tears will stop. she doesn't even remember to lock the door. all she knows is that she feels terrible.

vico is a fucking idiot. so emotionally illiterate due to years of avoiding dealing more than just rage that she completely misses how much reagan is struggling until the other is practically screaming. out of all the answers reagan could've given them, that's the one she did not expect. she's never dealt with death. sure, they always say their entire family is dead to them, but it doesn't count. that's not loss. especially not the kind reagan went through. because if that's an engagement ring... then she went through a whole lost the love of my life arc. and for one second, the gears inside vico's head start moving. it all explains so much. "wait, wait. reagan, hold o— shit." again, she isn't moving. not carefully considering what her next step should be. vico's completely out of her element. all she has to guide her at the moment is her heart, and as much as it hurt, it tells her to go after the woman that keeps it beating. "reagan." she plants herself outside the bathroom, not daring to check if it's locked. "i fucked up, alright?" it hurs to see reagan acting so unlike her. and in a way, it freaks vico out. isn't she supposed to always have everything under control? "i just—" fuck it. she gives the knob a try, it offers zero hesitance, so vico steps in. "i know we uh... we don't talk about all that shit. you know, serious shit. always keep everything so lighthearted. but you could've told me." a pause. "i'm not mad. like, i'm not saying you had to. but, i mean, if you wanted to talk and shit... it's an option."

one look at vico, and suddenly she's crying. her chest breaks out in this awful, hot rash, and reagan can't think. all she can see is that heartbroken look on their face, and the fact that they think this is some kind of fucking GAME to her. "vico he's not –" her voice cracks around the words. he's NOT just some guy she's cheating on. firstly, reagan wouldn't DO something like that. it's not her way. "this isn't like that." it sounds wrong, it cracks out of her not unlike something shattering. because THIS is the thing she keeps avoiding. reagan doesn't do vulnerability. she doesn't share, she problem solves, she never brings shit up. if someone asked vico about montana, the most they would know is that reagan's from there and hasn't lived there in a very long time. they don't know about everything that happened. "he's–it's –" she can't fucking do this. "he's not going to come back." it's like the admission knocks the wind out of her. she keeps looking around like a scared animal – like she's trying to outrun something and it's gaining on her. "i wouldn't fuckin' do something like that." she hates fucking crying. "and i DON'T have to explain that ring if you don't want something SERIOUS with me." it shouldn't feel easier to argue than just explain, but there's something awful that sits under her ribs. your fault, your fault, your fault. she's looking for anywhere where she can regain control here. "he's not coming back. can't that be enough of an explanation?"

vico doesn't do well with tears. her experiences with them cloud her judgment. she sees reagan's red eyes and they remind her of her mother's, and how she used to cry while belittling her. even if reagan isn't doing that, it's all vico can think about. tears = manipulation. her mother' was an excellent emotional blackmailer. and fuck, logically reagan wouldn't do that to them. but also, ten seconds ago vico thought reagan was single. then she saw the ring. it's all a bit too much for vico to handle. she doesn't do emotions. if things feel too real, she runs. she should've bolted minutes ago, but she remains standing there, staring at reagan, knuckles completely white as she clenches her fists. "what the fuck do you mean?" anger doesn't let her fully understand what reagan is trying to say. what vico needs in this moment is clarity. but she won't demand it, she won't ask for it. that's for weak people. she can't figure out what to focus on until the word serious comes from reagan's lips, hanging heavy between the two. because that was their unspoken agreement, wasn't it? they were just having fun. it's just sex. but, things changed some time ago, only that the two of them refused to acknowledge it. "is this really the shit you want to talk about now, reagan? okay, so i discovered your fuck up so you have to find a way to make this shit my fault because i don't want... what!? to be your boyfriend?" but she does! deep inside. she's dreamt about it. vico's just too much of a coward to behave like an adult for once in their life.

Florence Pugh | Little half hair updo for Florence Pugh with some 💐🪷🌸🪻 | March 30, 2026 | 📷 Hyungsun Ju

Margaret Qualley as Sister Cathleen in Novitiate (2017)

"oh yeah. reform judaism." she laughs, "it's all the rage in the hollowed grounds of fucking westchester, new york." she actually can't believe she's saying anything about it, but shiloh has a habit of speaking before she thinks. "cool with women. cool with divorce. cool with gay people." a beat, "but don't bring home a nice little jewish person, or someone willing to convert and you're fucked." that's not even entirely true. just true in her household, not that it matters. at the comment, shiloh huffs out another laugh. "so no strap till marriage." a grin, "got it." another grin cracks across her face. "i think i can manage that if we get married asap."

"there's different kinds?"this really is a whole new world shiloh is showing her. "hollowed grounds, so uh, we're talking about the guys hiding in tunnels all over new york?" lux saw a tiktok about it once, though she only watched for about two seconds before she kept scrolling. "is mommy shiloh going to be pissed i don't want to convert. no offense, but i don't feel like giving up ceviche." and pork. lux would die without carnitas. "no strap ever. sorry babe, i'm not a plastic dick kind of girl. i mean, i'll take a dicking down, but i can't give it back. i think i'd look stupid with one." something about how her frame isn't right for it, she's always thought. "still wanna marry me?"

she hates this. hates talking about it, hates thinking about it, hates acting like it exists at all. which only ever serves to make her feel worse. she can feel the anger rolling off of them, and that only ever serves to make everything worse. everything tangles in her chest, and suddenly, for ONCE, she doesn't know what to say. "oh." who gave that thing to you? her chest hurts. her body hurts too. how does someone explain this ?? her brows furrow, and she looks up at them again, voice fracturing. "do we have to talk about it ??" a beat, "you said you didn't want serious, right ??"

when you are forced to flee the nest at sixteen with nothing but whatever clothes fit in your jansport and stolen money, you are forced to become real good at noticing things. like how reagan's apartment is full of things vico knows she wouldn't personally buy for herself. not that reagan doesn't have the money for them—vico knows she does—but they're just things that always come to one's life in the form of a gift. and while she never thought about them twice, the ring makes vico wonder if she should've paid more attention. "i did." and she swallows hard, suddenly too uncomfortable. her clothes feel too tight, her hair's too long, the room's too hot. and only running away will fix it. "it's not my first rodeo, you know? bored little girls who think they can invite a stray dog in and experiment while their man is away. if that was the case, i would've appreciated a heads-up."