#but i also feel like i’m reaching a breaking point and if i don’t seek help now i’ll end up ruining so many of my relationships

[archiveofyearning]

.

#i rly didn’t want to start therapy again bc I’ve had many bad therapy experiences in the past #and i’m also ashamed and terrified of what might come up bc i know there are many things i have been actively avoiding #which i know is precisely the reason why i should be doing it but #i just feel like it will bring up so much that i’ll feel a lot worse before i feel better and idk if i’m in the right state for that now #but i also feel like i’m reaching a breaking point and if i don’t seek help now i’ll end up ruining so many of my relationships #and disappointing so many people. not to mention that i’ve been slipping more and more at work every day #and the pressure to be absolutely perfect at it at all times never goes away #anyway. all this to say that i think i have to do it but i’m rly afraid #so would appreciate some love and prayers

[misc-obeyme]

requesting "don't test me" with lucifer (and then she does)

ty i luv u

Hello, anon!

Okay, so the prompt was "Don't tempt me," but I still had him tell MC not to test him, so we got a bit of both lol. Also I know you didn't necessarily indicate an AFAB reader, but that's what I ended up doing. Hopefully that's okay!

Thank you for participating!

1,000 Followers Event!

AFAB!MC x Lucifer with prompt "Don't tempt me."

NSFW MDNI

Warnings: cockwarming, penetration (reader receiving)

Once again, Lucifer found himself sitting at his desk doing paperwork late into the night. Everyone else in the house was either asleep or quiet in their rooms. For once, he could focus on the pile of work he still had to get through.

And he did focus, even though you were sitting on his lap with his cock snugly inside you.

Lucifer would never admit it, but he had a tendency to indulge you. When you came into his office earlier that night to sit with him, he didn’t protest. Your presence made him feel content and he enjoyed having you near him. But it was clear rather quickly that you did not intend to simply sit idly while he worked. And when you finally asked, Lucifer gave in after only a little bit of prodding.

That was how he ended up with his lap full of you, his arms on either side of you as he continued to work, your head leaning back on his shoulder. Your hands were on the desk, holding papers still for him as he wrote. He occasionally moved your hands where he needed them.

You had been doing so well, actually managing to stay still while he worked. But he noticed when you began to shift your hips every so often, like you were unable to hold yourself back from seeking some kind of friction. Lucifer didn’t acknowledge your movements, his pen never stopping.

Lucifer couldn’t deny that he enjoyed having you like this. The way your body clenched on his cock, sending little jolts of pleasure through him, made the hours of sitting at his desk a little more bearable. He never indicated this to you, his expression and movements remaining stoic as though he was unbothered by the way you were leaking all over him.

This went on for some time and Lucifer was actually impressed that you were able to cockwarm him for so long, only occasionally moving against him.

He still had quite the pile of work when it became evident that you were struggling with staying still. Your movements became more frequent and more obvious. You even let out a little whine that both concerned him and made his cock twitch.

When this happened, he said, “Be still, MC. As you can see I still have a lot of work to get through.”

“I’ve been still this whole time,” you said. “Can’t you take a break?”

Lucifer wanted to give into you immediately, but the paperwork on his desk taunted him. “No,” he said firmly. “I told you that you would have to wait until I’m finished and I am nowhere near done.”

You turned your head toward him, nuzzling into him and kissing his neck. You took one of your hands off his desk to reach up and run your fingers down his cheek. “Please, Lucifer…”

Lucifer grabbed your hand and put it back on his desk. “Don’t tempt me,” he said. His tone was strict, not flirty, and you sighed against him.

Lucifer managed to get through only a small amount of work before you started up again, shifting on his lap. He attempted to ignore it, not wanting to give in to you.

At this point, though, you had had enough and you very deliberately braced your hands on the desk so you could raise yourself up. Once you reached the tip of his cock, you sat back down in one swift motion. The feeling of finally having some movement inside you made you moan.

Lucifer dropped his pen and grabbed your hips, keeping you pressed to him. “Do not test my patience, MC.”

You still squirmed in his grip. “What about my patience?” you asked, letting just a hint of a whine into your voice. “I’m running out.”

“You should have considered that before you proposed this idea,” Lucifer said.

You groaned, now actively struggling against him. “Can’t you ever give in? Just once?”

Lucifer’s irritation with you peaked and he realized there was no way he would be able to finish his work when you were like this. He secretly blamed himself for giving into you to begin with, but there was no way he would let you think that.

Lucifer lifted you easily as he stood up from his chair, pushing you down over his desk. There was still paperwork beneath you, but he didn’t bother to move it out of the way. In that moment, he no longer cared.

Lucifer leaned over you, pressing close to your ear. “I hope this is what you wanted, MC.”

Lucifer didn’t give you the chance to answer as he stood back up, keeping one hand on your hip.

He put his other hand on the small of your back, keeping you in place as he began to thrust. He was not gentle, he was far past that, and the sounds of your whimpers only made him go faster.

You squirmed under him, no doubt overwhelmed by how deep he was inside you, hitting hard with every thrust, your body bouncing as he ramped up the pace and intensity. He was lost in your heat, feeling only the sweetness of you around him, his own pleasure building as he moved in you. The sound and scent of your arousal made him a little dizzy.

Your noises became louder as your orgasm approached, your hands gripping the desk, moving the papers that were still beneath you.

You cried out as your climax hit, your cum coating his dick as he clenched your hip hard, the hand on your back pressing down roughly.

And then Lucifer stopped moving.

You stayed sprawled over the desk, your cheek pressed against some stray paper, breathing hard as you slowly came down from your high.

After a moment you looked back over your shoulder. Lucifer frowned at you, his cock still hard inside you.

“Will you be able to sit still now?” he asked.

Lucifer lifted you from his desk, sitting back down in his chair and settling you in his lap the way he had you before. He picked up one of your hands, his fingers gently rubbing against a smudge of ink there before he placed it on top of his papers again.

You opened your mouth to protest, but Lucifer wrapped his arms around your waist and gently kissed your neck.

“I only need you to hold on a little longer,” he said quietly into your ear. “Having you here like this makes it easier for me to get through all of this work. If you can hold me until I’m finished, I will be at your mercy for the rest of the night.”

Lucifer knew what saying this to you would do and he was pleased to feel you shudder slightly. You were likely imagining him carrying you to his room, catering to your every whim, giving into you entirely, letting you have whatever you wanted from him. It wasn’t something he did often. But every once in a while, he let himself be vulnerable with you.

You re-positioned yourself for a moment, then let out a soft sigh. You put your hands on the desk, settling them back on the papers for him. “How can I say no to that?”

Lucifer chuckled, repositioning your hands a little before picking up his pen. “I will endeavor to get through the remainder quickly so I can take care of you properly.”

You settled in, your body still tired and throbbing from the orgasm you had bent over his desk. You took the time to rest as well as you could with his cock still inside you, knowing you would need your energy for later.

1,000 Followers Event | masterlist | Thank you for reading!

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #omswd #obey me lucifer #obey me smut #obey me lucifer smut #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer x mc #lucifer x reader #lucifer x mc #misc 1k event #misc naughty times #misc writes

[dizzycheetah96]

i’ve had this post in the drafts for like two months but with the release of poor things on hulu has come an uptick in really really bad poor things takes so here I am clocking in for the poor things discourse!!

while art is obviously subjective and can be interpreted like literally however you want blah blah blah etc. etc., I think a lot of the criticisms of poor things are pretty surface level and in the name of like performative anger and not genuine criticisms. will be addressing and commenting on the two biggest criticisms I’ve seen:

1. poor things portrays the born sexy yesterday trope

ultimately I think the film does enough to subvert the trope, and actually utilizes the trope as a vehicle to subvert it. what I think poor things is really doing is critiquing and commenting on how men seek out infantile and docile women as a means to exert control and assert their own self importance. these men then become disillusioned when said women gain intelligence, perspective, and experiences that don’t center them.

godwin, max, and duncan all sought to control bella in some way. they sexualize her, view her as an object, property, and an experiment. at the beginning of the movie, prior to bella leaving god’s house and exploring, we do get a bit of the traditional born sexy yesterday trope. but bella being who she is, she wanted more and she wanted to explore the world, grow, etc. this fundamentally changed the way these men interacted with her, and they were no longer infatuated by her innocence and curiosity, but saw her as threatening and something they needed to reign in and control.

first, when bella asks to leave the house and see the world, she is met with pushback from both godwin and max. when bella expresses her frustration, godwin fucking chloroforms her to get her to stop talking and fighting him. this pattern continues until bella leaves.

we saw this to an extreme with duncan. he noticed that bella was gaining intelligence and perspective, was threatened, and resorted to locking her in a trunk and literally fucking kidnapping her as an attempt to regain control. but after that, she continues to learn and grow. she meets new people who introduce her to philosophy and reading and intelligent conversation. this essentially brings duncan to his breaking point and he begins to mentally deteriorate.

2. all the sex was super gross bc bella developmentally had not yet reached the age of consent

people not grasping that bella having sex with all these men is SUPPOSED to make us uncomfortable is baffling. the depiction of this kind of relationship cannot be equated with endorsement. I actually think it was important that the audience know that at the beginning of the movie that bella had the brain of a child because it allows us to see how much duncan takes advantage of her. it also just further hammers home the critique of men preferring underdeveloped infantile women they can control, rather than independent intelligent women who challenge them.

I don’t necessarily have any problem with the movie depicting that bella enjoys having sex. discovering sexuality it is an ordinary part of adolescence (when she first starts masturbating I’m assuming she was like 12-14 developmentally) and ultimately what makes the lisbon scenes with her and duncan so uncomfortable is that we know that he knows he’s taking advantage of her. I do think it was intended to be uncomfortable for the audience to watch. she does not have the knowledge and understanding to know that the dynamic between her and duncan is very very bad, but she gets there eventually. I can’t fault her for in the moment not realizing what was happening to her.

but this is where my personal criticisms come in — once bella does learn how these men took advantage of her she does not fight back against them like I wanted her to. she isn’t outraged, she doesn’t tell them how violated she feels. duncan does get his comeuppance (which was hilariously played by mark ruffalo) but I think that max and godwin got off too easy. especially max who agreed to marry her when developmentally she was a child. I just don’t think she should have been so quick to forgive them.

I also just want to take a moment to discuss the common critique that “it’s so obvious this movie was made by a man like duh this is how men perceive what female empowerment is” etc. etc. this was actually addressed by emma stone in a conversation she had w olivia coleman — emma was a producer on the film and really feels like people are taking away her agency in deciding how to tell this story. she was an integral part in the production of the film, no one was demanding her to portray bella in a certain way, and ultimately what we see on screen is a product of her involvement in the filmmaking process. by reducing this to being a movie about how men perceive women you are completely removing and invalidating the women that actually had a say in how this story was told.

tldr; idk like obviously you can think whatever you want about it, but just don’t mistake depiction for endorsement and understand that sometimes the point of the movie is to make you feel uncomfortable. stories and narratives in fiction are complicated bc people are complicated!!!! we are messy and difficult and exploring certain topics in a fictionalized world allows us to better understand the world we live in. sanitizing ourselves of engaging with this kind of material will only hurt our ability to analyze and form opinions about contentious areas of life.

#poor things #*sigh* I am once again poor things posting #emma stone #yorgos lanthimos #poor things ily

[tkaulitzlvr]

THE WRONG WAY - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: tom hasn’t been paying you enough attention lately, and, when you finally snap, he can’t understand where you are coming from, until you reach your breaking point. can the issues between you and him be resolved?

content: angst

a/n: pulled this out of my ass lol, i had to rush it because i’m in the middle of another req but it’s nowhere near done after like three hours of writing so i’ll have to finish and post it tomorrow. sorry if there are mistakes, i only proofread veryyy briefly cause i’m so tired rn😭 hope this is okay tho!!

"you don't love me."

i voice the harsh words to the silent room, clearly and with every sense of belief behind my statement. to my discomfort, saying it out loud does not make me feel any more at ease, in fact seeing the way tom’s entire body breaks for a second, processing what i had just said, before trying to cover the hurt on his face up, only suffocates me even more. the lump in my throat only gets bigger, the tension in the air thickening by the second.

"wow." he begins, shaking his head, trying to wrap his head around how i could even come to that conclusion. "that’s an awful accusation." he glances at me, his eyes already glossy, giving me enough of an idea on how much i have hurt him by uttering those four words. however i stick to it, figuring that it is too late to back out now. within me, behind all the anger, all the upset, i feel that it is true. i sense that he no longer feels the same way he did when he met me, all those years ago, the love within his eyes slowly diminishing until it is now long gone.

"and also." he speaks, leaning forward and looking directly into my eyes, staying in his position spread on the end of the other couch. "it's not true. you know it isn't."

the pressure of his gaze leaves me unable to hold eye contact with him, looking away sheepishly into my lap, hoping that somehow the ground could swallow me up. i grit my teeth, locking my jaw in anger, feeling no reassurance from his quick denial of my statement. so i decide to challenge him, standing my ground despite the nausea only growing within me. though his voice seems somewhat certain, i refuse to believe that i am making it up, that it is all in my head. "do i though tom?"

my eyes meet his, except the ones looking into me are foreign. they are angry, a glint of hostility present within them that i had not yet witnessed, this change taking me aback, yet i refuse to look away. he is sad. those eyes, past the resentment in them, i see pain. i see sorrow. i have upset him, far beyond what he intends to let out. he is usually strong, and perhaps right now he thinks that he is keeping this up, yet i can read him like a book, the way his left brow furrows, creating a crease along his forehead, the way his eyes cannot focus on one thing, darting around the room, i can see that he is struggling. and whilst part of me hurts with him, hating to put him through any sort of distress, i need it right now. because i am tired of feeling unloved and unappreciated - regardless of whether tom intends to make me feel this way or not.

he shakes his head, scoffing slightly in disbelief, letting out a shaky sigh, before speaking up, his voice loud, in contrast to the silent room. "what, so i've been lying every single time i’ve told you that i love you, over the past six years that we've been together? mind you, i say that every day, without fail."

i stay silent, my eyes becoming glossy as they quickly tear away from his. he takes my silence as a cue to continue, my sudden belief that he does not love me angering him as he desperately seeks to remind me of every reason why i am in the wrong. "don't i do everything for you? make sure that you're always safe, give you my everything-"

"give me your money, you mean." i reply, cutting him off. i don’t want to seem ungrateful - i appreciate the way tom would spend any amount of money on me if it made me happy. i am thankful for the house he has given me, the vacations he takes me on, the things he buys me, but those things are not the reasons why i fell in love with him. i fell for tom kaulitz. not his money, not his fame, not his profession. i fell for who he is, for him as a person, whether he is rich or poor, yet it feels that day by day i lose a small part of that. i have always understood that his job means that he will be away a lot, but it is hard to be in a relationship with someone that can't always be there, only their fortunes can.

"i’m grateful for what you do for me, really i am, but i'd much rather have time with you than the latest gucci bag, or the newest chanel perfume. if it meant that i would have to live with nothing for the rest of my life, i would do it. don't you understand? i want you - not your money tom! i don't need you to apologise with gifts when i don’t see you all day, i just...i need you." i am desperate, craving for him to hear me out, to understand that it is him that i need, but the way he looks at me in confusion shows me that i am not going to achieve that.

"i thought you liked the things i buy for you. have you been lying?" he completely ignores the point that i have been trying to make, this only fuelling the frustration within me as i exhale shakily, quickly grasping onto the opportunity to argue my point once again.

"i do but that's not the point tom! i like them because i feel like it's all i get from you!" my voice is raising, something which i did not want to happen. shouting never solves the problem, however right now i am far too angry to care. "i just want some of your time, to feel like you actually care! when you're with me, you're here physically, but your mind is always elsewhere. i just miss you. i need to you be mine again, i-"

"look, i’m sorry okay?" he begins, harshly cutting me off and matching the volume in my voice. "i'm sorry that my job is more demanding than others, i’m sorry that it needs a lot of my attention, but i told you this from the beginning. my career is a big part of who i am and things aren't always easy. they get hard, they get tough, but-"

"that's my problem! when things get hard for you, i don't fucking know about it! because you shut me out, every. single. time. i'm your girlfriend, tom. i want to know about your life, i want to help you, but you always run away from me! you spoil me with gifts and money to compensate for every fucking time you leave me in the dark! i don't want it anymore. i just want you to communicate!" i move from the couch, walking to the middle of the room and standing a few feet away from him. his eyes are glued to me, watching my every step, and he is listening to me this time. "am i such a headache to be around, that you can't talk to me? that you can't deal with spending time with me, so instead you spend your money to try and shut me up, because you have so much that no matter what you buy, it doesn't affect you?"

"don't." he voices shakily as i stare into his eyes, his expression more wounded than ever. my words stab into him, hitting him harder than i had anticipated. his fists clench against his thighs, holding every ounce of frustration. though we have argued in the past, i have never seen him this upset, regardless of whether he intends to show it visibly or not. "you know that i don't think of you that way, even for a second. so stop."

"you can't blame me for thinking it tom." i shrug. "you leave me out of everything, i have no idea what's going on in your life anymore-"

“because i'm trying to fucking protect you!" he interrupts, raising his voice once again. his hand slams against the arm of the couch, the sudden contact causing me to wince slightly. "i'm sorry if you feel like i'm hiding things from you. but i know parts of my life would just stress you out and hurt you. don't you get that? i'm trying to save you from the pain-"

"i want the fucking pain!" i fire back. "we are supposed to be in a relationship. do you know what that means? i want to suffer with you. i would choose that, a million times over, if it meant that i could be with you for another day. i want every part of you, the sad, the happy, the angry, i want it all. can't you see that i need you? i hate being left in the dark. i absolutely fucking hate it.”

my voice pierces through his ears, diminishing the tense silence as tom gulps, clenching his jaw and leaning forwards, pinching his nose with his thumb and pointer finger. the rash and quick responses don’t allow me time to calm down, my eyes becoming glossy with tears, the salty liquid staining my cheeks before i can try to hold them back, my weakness just as evident as tom’s. the pain, the upset, the lack of affection that have been feeling all spills out, reeling outwards from within me as i let it out, no longer attempting to hold back.

he looks up, his face softening as he takes in my hurt expression. he has never seen me like this, so broken, and the fact that he is the cause of this pains him even more, his mind coming to the slow realisation that it is up to him to fix this. although he doesn’t fully understand how i could possibly believe that he does not love me, he wants to try, to try and see from my eyes. he lets out a shaky sigh, swallowing nervously before looking into my eyes.

"i would rather feel the sadness, suffer with you." i begin, my voice small as the tears quickly take away my physical strength. "i would do absolutely anything if it means that you will love me, that you will do it with me, tom."

"i don't live a normal life, and i just want to keep you away from the crazy things." he speaks slowly, trying to reason with me, refusing to turn his gaze away from mine. "some people want to hurt me, and i would never forgive myself if someone ever did anything to harm you."

i try to wipe my tears and calm my breathing, wrapping my arms around my small frame in an attempt to comfort myself, quickly becoming overwhelmed with the situation. but my mind acknowledges tom’s change in tone. not only is he more gentle and calm, he also seems sorry, like he now recognises where he went wrong.

"what do you want me to do?" he whispers, defeated as his tired eyes meet mine. he is no longer angry. he is desperate, longing to resolve this. "i'll do anything. i- i can't lose you. you're my world, schatz, and i'm sorry if i haven't shown it, but you are everything to me."

though there are millions of things i could say, i stay silent, standing still across the room. my heart clenches painfully, hurting at the sight of him so distraught, as his mind considers the dreaded idea of what losing me would be like. his world is crumbling before him, the one thing he seeks to protect seeming to slip through his fingers. i have never seen him like this, so vulnerable, so desperate, and whilst it comforts me to know that he is slowly letting down the walls that have prevented me from truly being with him, it saddens me to see him in such a distraught state.

"all i've ever wanted is to keep you safe. to keep you happy, liebe, because if you're happy then so am i. but you deserve more than this." he points to himself angrily, letting out a shaky sigh. "more than this fucking idiot, who doesn't even know how to love. i’m so sorry if i've done it the wrong way and made you feel like i don't care. because you shouldn't for a second think that i don't love you."

everything that i have been craving to see is happening in front of me. i have longed to see him open up, to break down the barriers that separate us both physically and mentally. i don’t want him to be strong all the time, and it hurts that he feels he has to be. the tears fall from my bloodshot eyes once again - this time out of sadness for him. i hurt with him, hating to see him so upset, but i understand his pain, his anger, and i feel every emotion along with him. for the first time in forever, i feel connected with him.

after a few moments of silence, he stands up, slowly walking towards me. i refuse to meet his gaze, fearing that i will break down once again i realise how hurt he truly is, and looking into his eyes will certainly display every emotion amongst his beautiful features. his hand brushes tenderly against my cheek, wiping a fresh tear that had fallen. he reaches towards my chin, using his pointer finger to angle my face upwards so it meets with his eyes. he towers over me, taking in the sorrow etched upon my face, before tucking the loose strands of hair behind my ears, gently caressing my cheek with his lips slightly parted, shaky breaths escaping from them.

"please, look at me." he whispers, gazing longingly into my eyes. i comply, shifting my own eyes to the deep brown ones in front of me. they are full of adoration, and i feel the man that i fell in love with slowly coming back to me. "i love you, so so much, please believe me schatz. you are the most important person in my life, and i am so sorry that i've made you feel the opposite way." he chokes up, his voice shaky as i can tell he is on the verge of tears.

i listen to him, allowing every word to sink in, as it is now no longer hard to trust what he says. i feel what i have been desperate to - love. i feel truly appreciated, like i am able to confide in him like i once could. though frustrated it took the both of us to get to this state to make him speak his mind, i appreciate him opening up, his apology making up for the lost time. there is no shame in being fragile, and through his entire conversation, we have both learned this, a new found appreciation for each other gained as i feel safe again.

"don't feel like you have to keep things to yourself. i’m your girlfriend, i'm supposed to be here for you, and i'll gladly do it, but you have to talk to me." i respond, lacing my hand with his. a soft smile spreads across his face, contrasting with his bloodshot eyes whilst he slowly nods.

"i hear you. i’m so sorry baby. i love you." he whispers, pulling me into a tight hug as his hands lace together around my waist. he lets out a sob onto my shoulder, my heart breaking at the sound. he clutches onto me tighter as if i may slip away, my own eyes tearing up once again. it has been a while since i felt like this. i feel loved, and it is all that i have ever wanted from the start.

he slowly pulls away, resting his forehead against mine and looking into my eyes through his eyelashes. after a few seconds, he leans inwards, until his lips touch mine. the kiss is gentle, carrying every promise to love and cherish me like he has failed to do, and i gladly accept it, kissing back quickly and wrapping my arms around his neck. he pulls away, planting a few pecks on my lips once again, his breath shaky as the remnants of tears stick to his cheeks. i slowly wipe them away, not breaking eye contact as i do so, gently caressing the soft skin until any trace of sadness is lost within our newfound love for each other.

a soft smile graces his lips, failing to wither as he kisses me once again, the same amount of passion as the last, making up for the lost affection as i feel more treasured than ever. this is all I have ever wanted, to feel like he cares, and now that i am feeling his affection, my mind is oozing with contentment, the feeling almost foreign it has been so long.

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

#tom kaulitz #kaulitz twins #tokiohotel #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz angst #kaulitz #tom kaulitz fluff #tomkaulitz #tom kaulitz smut #bill kaulitz

[ghosttownwherenoonegoes]

Imagine being insecure about your relationship with Eddie (GN!reader).

Tw; insecure reader, swearing, Eddie maybe has a rough approach to this? Basically forces reader to tell him what’s wrong, negativity, one sentence implies Eddie wants to vomit out of anxiety but it's entirely metaphorical and so quick you might miss it, this is a comfort piece…. Inspired by my own feelings tonight.

The GIF is how I imagine him looking at reader as they spill their feelings.

Tagging people I think may enjoy - @hersweetrevenge @eddiebunson @dreaming-of-fictional-characters @seidenbros let me know if you want to be removed from this post!!!

Word count: 1, 605.

For a while, you sit on it. You chew on your lip, clench your fists, keep your thoughts locked between your teeth. Eddie lets you have your space, he lets you seek comfort from him and even though the questions burn him, he keeps them inside.

You’ll come to him when you’re ready and not a moment before.

Except this time, you don’t.

Days pass and your mood worsens and Eddie’s not sure if you know that you’ve started to pull away from him, emotionally and physically. You’re hugging him, kissing him, but you’re also not there with him. It gets to the point where Eddie would straight up just rather not be affectionate with you, as opposed to being hugged by you but feeling like it’s an echo of what he knows you normally give him. He's always been all or nothing. It’s torture, watching you hurting right beside him but feeling like there's a wall between you, it is, and he’s worried and frustrated and you’re stood right there but he misses you.

Eddie tried patience. He gave you space. It got worse. So then he steps in. Enough's enough.

“All right, sweetheart, what’s biting at you?”

“Nothing, Eddie, I’m fi - “

Eddie snaps.

“Don’t bullshit me! You’re eating yourself alive, have been for days, and I wanna know why!” Eddie takes a deep breath. He sees the way you shrink into yourself and in an attempt to calm himself, he goes back to his trail mix, angrily nibbling on a pretzel as he looks up at you. Despite how rough he's being, you know it's worry. For you.

Your insecurities aren't just affecting you anymore. They are now taking chomps out of Eddie, too. You never wanted it to go this far.

Time to let it all out.

“I just…” you inhale, exhale. Again. Close your eyes. Inhale, exhale, aaaaand, “I don’t think I’m… I don’t feel like you and me, like we…” Eddie’s breathing has gotten deeper, he’s trying so so hard to be patient, to not jump the gun. Just like when Dustin has to go through a paragraph for what is effectively one sentence (and fuck, Eddie loves that little shrimp), Eddie gives you that same space to reach your own conclusion, even with his anxiety rising so strongly that he feels sick. He shoves his trail mix away. It never tastes good the second time. “I don’t think I’m the right person for you.”

“Why?” A bullet out of a gun,or a whip crack. Sharp. No messing around. Eddie wants his answers now.

Your forehead grows hot from the inside but still, you push on. You’ve been sat on this for so long that it’s been driving you crazy and you want to tell Eddie, you have this entire time, but how?

Like a bandaid. One, two -

You tell Eddie everything. You leave no stone unturned, no ugly thought unvoiced, and Eddie sits in silence the whole time, his dark eyes fixed on your face. He sees every hitched breath, every hard swallow, every hand tremble, every shaky attempt to stop yourself from totally breaking… Eddie sees you and it threatens to shatter him where he sits. His breathing is deep now, visibly trying to keep himself calm.

Finally, Eddie says, “you done?” In a totally dead tone of voice. It’s so flat that your eyes shoot up to meet his for the first time since you started to vent, and the look on his face knocks all the breath out of your lungs. You knew he’d be upset and that was a large part of why you hadn’t wanted to tell him anything about how you were feeling.

“Yeah, I… that’s all.”

“That’s all?” He sasses you with a tilt of his head, his dark curls brushing across his shoulders, “that’s all?”

You nod, eyeing him carefully.

“If I ever - “ he gestures at you with a pretzel held between two fingers like his beloved guitar picks, “and I mean ever,” his eyes become glassy with tears, “hear you talk so cruelly about my Y/N again, I’m gonna kick your ass, ‘kay?” He shuffles forward, hands hovering in the air in the space between you. An invitation. Your heart bleeds - you miss him so much - and you allow him to lace your fingers together. Eddie squeezes around your grip like it’s his last lifeline and his chocolate eyes practically beg you to listen to him. To listen. “‘Cause here’s the thing, sweetheart,” a wry smile, “all that stuff you said there? Total fucking bullshit.” Eddie narrows his eyes. “I’m gonna be totally straight with you, and I need you to hear me out. I've listened to you and now you're gonna listen to me." You haven't seen Eddie so serious for a while - not since the last campaign and certainly never directed at you - and it's dizzying.

You nod your consent so now it’s Eddie’s turn to vent. Every insult you voiced? Was digested and now Eddie gives you the same thought but reframed in a positive light. He has something positive to say for everything negative you said, he covers all his bases, uses everything he knows about you to touch your soul, wipes the tar away from your heart with a careful hand. Every insult you threw at him is thrown back as a compliment; your own words used against you. Eddie knows he can’t eradicate the insecurities but he’ll be damned if he lets you sit with them alone.

As quickly as his tone got rough, it mellows right out again.

“Bottom line, sweetheart, is that I love you. So, so much, for so many things. But mostly ‘cause you’re you, and I wouldn’t want you any other fucking way. Because then you’d be someone else, and they’re all taken. I don't want to be with anyone else. I just. Want. You.”

Eddie's voice trembles somewhat and what you perceive to be pain only makes your own that much more obvious. Finally, those tears which had been in his eyes began to spill over, making his chocolate eyes look that much more devastating, and the anger's gone. Anger is a secondary emotion anyway and it usually hides fear or sorrow.

In this moment, Eddie is both as he shifts in his seat, opening his arms up to you and offering you a place on his denim throne - his lap.

You go to him, no hesitation, like a string existed between your bodies, after days of pulling away, and Eddie practically moans when you slide into his lap. Locking your arms and legs around him. You've always wanted to climb Eddie like a tree, so that makes you a koala, right? Well, maybe not. Maybe Eddie is the koala, because he latches onto you too, burrows his face into the crook of your neck, and holds onto you so tightly that you almost have to concentrate just on breathing.

You run your hands up and down Eddie's back, comforting him as much as he is comforting you. Kisses are pressed all over his head, shoulders, anywhere you can reach, and your neck receives similar treatment from Eddie. His lips are slightly chapped, warm and dry, his nose pressing against your skin. Two tried and tired people coming back together, reaffirming their love for one another.

"I thought you were gonna leave me." A small, broken voice, confesses to your skin. Eyes shut tight, Eddie's voice breaks in multiple places. "Thought you were breaking up with me when you started finally talking to me. Got so scared, sweetheart."

The intensity when you first spoke to Eddie about all of this makes even more sense now. It wasn't anger... it was fear.

"Oh, Eddie, no," Tears drip into his hair as you cry, relief and worry and guilt and anxiety and love, and he pulls away from the embrace just enough to be able to cup your face in his hands, wiping your tears away. You do the same for him, forehead kisses and soft, sad smiles exchanged between you. "Honey, I'm sorry. How could I ever leave you? I love you. Just got all up in my head, I just... I look at you and how wonderful you are and then I look at me and I just... it doesn't make sense."

Eddie shakes his head fiercely, his hands tightening on your face. Tears drip faster for the both of you. "It doesn't have to make sense, Y/N. Just feel it. I love you for you, 'kay? Don't want anyone else." He hasn't been loving you right, not if you've been feeling like this. Neither of you know it, but you both feel as sick as the other person, desperate to make things better, using the love you felt to push through the barrier in your path.

You open your mouth to speak but then closed it again. What more was there to say?

How long you both sit there, exchanging kisses and soft sad smiles, reassuring touches, neither of you know, but the aches in your souls are soothed by it, by each other, and isn't that what truly matters when it comes down to it?

Two people so right together could never be wrong and if sometimes you can't see or feel that, it's okay. Eddie will feel it enough for the both of you, and lord knows he has just as many insecurities as you do. But together you work through it every time, because neither of you will accept anything else.

Together.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson drabble #stranger things 4 x reader

[weirdkpopgirl]

Promise | Jaemin Imagine #8

Title: Promise

Genre: Angst

Warnings: mentions of anxiety and breakdowns

Word Count: 1.3k

Author's Note: I'm aware that anxiety often takes center stage in my stories, and yet, here's another one I've penned, this time focusing on Jaemin. Drawing from my own struggles, I aimed to portray the challenges of being close to someone dealing with mental health issues. Even with a strong support system, it doesn't guarantee that your problems will vanish miraculously. To all those who grapple with similar issues, I hope this story encourages you to seek help if possible because you deserve happiness and good health.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

From the beginning, you and Jaemin had a fairly healthy relationship that was envied by your friends and family. Apart from the initial awkwardness (primarily on your side) during the early stages of dating, both of you treated each other with plenty of tender loving care. 

You could truthfully say that Jaemin wasn’t just your boyfriend, but also your closest confidant. Perhaps it was the fact that the two of you had been friends for a substantial period before dating. Being each other’s partners allowed a deeper understanding of one another, resulting in almost no arguments between the two of you. That being said, because he knew you so well, there was one factor that occasionally led to turbulence in your relationship.

Anxiety has been a constant companion throughout your life. It was much like a friend you recognized as toxic but still chose to spend time with. Lacking a proper support system during your childhood, coping with life as an adult became significantly more challenging. For you, anxiety has been this silent struggle you had been battling alone. However, you didn’t realize the effect it was having on your otherwise, perfect relationship.

The irony was that Jaemin was the most supportive presence in your life. However, the issue lay in your reluctance to accept his support. Whenever you were in a state of distress, you tended to distance yourself from him and withhold your true feelings. He had witnessed you break down before, and it bothered him that you pushed him away.

One evening, after returning to your apartment late, Jaemin could see in your eyes that it was more than the part-time job that was taking a toll on you. He could discern from the restrained smile on your face that you had no intention of sharing it with him. At that moment, Jaemin reached the point where he couldn't bear it any longer.

The warmth of his hand atop yours gained your attention. Gazing at you softly, he asked, “Princess, can we talk?”

“Why? Did I do something wrong?” you responded with a tinge of concern in your voice. You searched your memory for anything you might have upset him, but couldn’t think of anything specific.

After taking a deep breath, Jaemin met your eyes brewing with perplexity. You had no idea what he was about to say, which made him briefly consider retracting his words. However, he knew that he couldn’t allow anything to stop him.

“It’s about your anxiety, (Y/n),” Jaemin began to explain, using his most gentle tone. “I’ve noticed how much it’s impacting your physical and mental health. And I think that seeking help from a professional can make a difference.”

Yet no matter how delicately this subject was being brought up to you, your shoulders tensed and you withdrew your hand from his grasp.

Your eyes flashed with frustration. “Jaemin, therapy isn’t necessary—I’m fine.”

“But you don’t have to pretend you’re fine all the time. It’s okay to ask for help and lean on others. I just want what’s best for you, (Y/n),” he stressed. He could sense you retreating behind your wall, and he refused to let you block him again.

That was how this conversation escalated into the most intense argument you had ever experienced with Jaemin. He made a sincere effort to stay composed, but it proved challenging when you continued to shut him out and maintained your insistence that you could handle everything on your own. 

Nonetheless, voices were raised from both parties and the words that left your mouths stung immediately after they were said. So as quickly as the argument had started, it ended with you pushing away from him and storming out of the living room with your eyes glossed over with tears.

Guilt quickly consumed him and his previous frustration dissipated. After waiting a few minutes to give you some space, Jaemin quietly moved down the hallway in search of you. His feet stopped at the bathroom door when he saw the faint light seeping beneath it.

On the other side of the door, your shoulders shook as silent sobs wracked your body, leaving you barely able to catch your breath. 

Eventually, you heard a gentle knock on the door. “(Y/n), please let me in.”

A part of you wanted to tell him to go away and leave you alone. You could tell by the tone of his voice that he was done fighting. Yet, you couldn’t convince yourself that you deserve forgiveness. Not when the entire argument was your fault. Even though he had been nothing but patient and loving, it was you who didn’t have the courage to acknowledge your mental instability. You were the problem.

When you didn't respond, Jaemin decided to take matters into his own hands and cautiously pushed the door open. Inside, his heart ached when he found you seated across from the sink, your face buried in your knees, every part of your body trembling. He hadn’t intended for things to go this way.

Without any further hesitation, Jaemin joined you on the bathroom tiles, scooping you up into his arms. The comforting feeling of being held made you instinctively cling to him. Your tears soaked his shirt, but that was the least of Jaemin’s worries.

“I’m sorry, Princess,” he whispered, his chin resting against your forehead as he stroked your hair. “I didn’t mean to pressure you like that.”

You grimaced inwardly as your voice wavered. “I'm the one who should be apologizing. I... I know I just push you away when I’m having a hard time. But you already do so much for me, and I just don’t want to be a burden."

“You could never be a burden, (Y/n),” the tips of his fingers lifted your chin slightly, allowing you to meet his sincere gaze. “You’re my everything, and I can’t stand to see you hurting alone.”

His simple, yet sweet words made you feel so warm inside. It was that moment you realized Jaemin was never going to leave your side, even if it meant seeing you at your worst. Your wall of emotions remained resolute, refusing to crumble any time soon. However, the better half of you wanted to let Jaemin break down those barriers.

Before you could say anything, Jaemin could feel the resistance in you slowly fade away. Your hand slipped into his, intertwining your fingers as you released a light exhale. “The idea of seeking help is terrifying. But if you’re with me, I think I can do it.”

“It makes me so happy to hear you say that,” Jaemin smiled and squeezed your hand reassuringly. “And I promise, we’ll face your anxiety together.”

Your cheeks warmed when he pressed a soft kiss on the back of your hand. Then, he leaned in for a tender kiss on your lips, his fingers gently weaving through your hair. Your grip on his sweatshirt tightened as the kiss deepened, conveying all the love and understanding that words could never fully express. Jaemin's other arm remained securely wrapped around your waist as if it could shield you from all your worries.

When you finally pulled away, tears in your eyes had transformed into tears of happiness. "I love you, Jaemin."

"I love you too, Princess," he replied in a sing-song voice.

In that heartfelt moment, as he held you close, you both understood that your love had the strength to endure any storm, even the ones that threatened to tear the two of you apart. Despite the relentless assaults of your own mind, the love you shared with Jaemin served as a reassuring reminder that you could overcome it all, together.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

#nct dream #nct dream imagines #nct dream angst #jaemin x reader #na jaemin #nct dream x reader #nct dream scenarios #jaemin imagines #jaemin scenarios #nctzen #czennie #kpop #kpop imagines

[kdbleu]

Ok so question (because I enjoy your analysis on these characters in the bear).

People who share the opinion that Carmy and Sydney should remain platonic soulmates and agree they have chemistry but they don’t read it as romantic.

From my vantage point I see the editing as obviously suggestive with the parallels in his relationship to Claire vs Syd.

Carmy obviously outwardly shows his interest on a seemingly subconscious level and with changed behavior.

Sydney on the other hand reads as very guarded (relatable) but still seeking connection as someone else pointed out. She hasn’t done any work to change that in terms of actively going to therapy. So I’m confused as to why people would think that a person as guarded as she is would outwardly like Carmy reciprocate her deep down romantic feels that I would assume she suppressing. She’s obviously good at it because she’s ambitious and a working professional. Case in point her reaction to Marcus’s date request.

What I do feel people should maybe reflect on more is her reaction to ‘Who’s Claire?’ Where I do agree that it was mostly frustration due to Camry dropping the ball and significant part was subconscious romantic jealousy. Also her insistence on him defining their (Claire and Carmy’s) relationship. Lastly, there’s no way in hell I would accept someone telling my boyfriend “I don’t want to share your focus” and him responding with “you deserve my focus” while she’s fully aware he’s in a relationship that SHE put him in 😂…because WHAT!?!

Sorry this was long and yeah I’d love to hear your thoughts?

Sydney desire for Carmy to define his relationship with Claire comes from Sydney wanting to know where she stands. She's ambitious an smart. She's let Carmy get away with a lot in her short time knowing each other, but she's reached a point where she's investing a lot in his restaurant. She needs to know if it's time to cut bait. Sydney deserves to know is she's working against a relationship that's going to continue to get in the way of The Bear?

And then she does what Sydney does. She tells Carmy how she wants to be treated. She tells him “I don’t want to share your focus.” I think by the time Carmy replies with, "You deserve my focus" he already knows he's going to break things off with Claire so in his mind he isn't really committing himself to another person while he has a girlfriend. He just hasn't seen Claire yet to do it. I think that's part of his distraction and lack of interest in Claire being at the restaurant at all. I doubt her meant to break up with her the way he did, but I also think Claire could have talked him out of doing it if they'd been face to face which is something to think about too.

As for Marcus... I almost feel bad because as early as Copenhagen I could see that he had probably been nursing a crush that Sydney inadvertently egged along throughout S1 and early S2. But once it's a real question instead of hints and international phone calls, she politely but firmly says no. Which also makes me think, part of Sydney wanting Carmy to define things between him and Claire is so she can sus out whether or not he's one of those guy who just strings a girl along. I think that's as much what she's getting at in the beginning of their conversation about him being shitty and that he's the one who makes it more about her.

And like the "Who's Claire?" moment of jealousy, it works because it's personal hurt hiding behind very neatly behind earned professionally annoyance.

#the bear fx #the bear hulu #carmy berzatto #sydney adamu #carmy x sydney #sydney x carmy #the bear

[melis-writes]

Moth to Flame (Part II) [Michael Corleone x Reader Series, 18+ Smut] Chapter 41 – The Calm Before the Storm.

Read on AO3 / Read Chapter 40 / Chapter Masterlist. / Fic Playlist.

18+, explicit smut read.

"Sonny’s excuse is that you let him and it’s disgusting. I don’t know how you deal with it." / “He questioned your actions and integrity, but I did not."

Your return back home to Lake Tahoe isn't marked without grudges, resent and guilt from others that you may have already set aside. What was once seeing as attention seeking, insignificant behavior threatens to create a rift between marriage but the truth is yet to be revealed. You want nothing more than to move on with your life, away from your mother and Fredo's death and any possibility increased tensions from rivalling mafia families but from what you believed was done for everybody's good has already sealed your fate.

[WARNINGS]: Mentions & themes of prostitution / Strip teasing / Heavy fluff / Touching & kissing / Nipple play & teasing.

[AUTHOR'S NOTE]: A new chapter of Moth to Flame is finally here!! 😭❤️ I can't believe it's been about ~2 months since I last updated?! Since I'm focused on fic uploads/writing only at the moment, I'm looking forward to a lot more frequent and back to back updates for you guys. 🥴 Better late than never! Michael and Victoria's story continues, or should I say in this chapter that also means Sonny and Sandra's? 👀 Drama, drama, drama...! It was definitely coming, and now it's going to build into something spiralling completely out of control. We need to focus on baby Vincent and the twins' cuteness above all. 😂😍

1956. Your name is Victoria Ferrari Corleone, and you’re the wife of the most powerful mobster in North America–Michael Corleone. A lifestyle of crime and secrecy is all you've known and ever wanted to know, complimenting the cruelty of Michael Corleone's influence in the United States. With your enemies fallen before you and all loose ends tied up, you continue your life and marriage with the Corleone family while refusing to look back on your past. Yet it's the skeletons in your closet that a shine a light on revealing you're a true mafiosa. Ensnared in the shadows just as much as Michael is, you find yourself betrayed by the unexpected with all of your secrets ready to spill–especially ones you've hidden from Michael. With more than one pair of eyes watching your every move, you find yourself trapped amidst potential scandals and a familiar, lovesick secret admirer adamant on removing Michael out of the picture to have you all to himself. Like a moth to a flame, you've reached the point of no return and the light that breaks down the darkness threatens to take you next.

[ Lake Tahoe Compound, 7:00 AM ]

From the moment you came to rest your head upon your pillow and snuggle up in your own bed next to your husband at home, every thought, concern, and memory of what occurred in Las Vegas has left not only yours but Michael’s mind as well.

From a well-deserved good night’s sleep in pure relaxation, Michael and you have awoken shortly before seven in the morning to start your day and spend it with the family—taking a break from traveling and business.

“Okay, baby,” you run your hands through your hair gently to smoothen it down, moving towards the shower. “I’m going to wake up the children and get them ready for breakfast.”

Michael pulls back the shower curtain to peek his head out; his soaked hair sticking to his temples and droplets of water dribbling down from his lips and chin. “Alright, darling.”

You blush, leaning over and pecking a kiss over Michael’s wet lips. “I’ll see you downstairs in a minute.”

Just from leaning over towards the hot shower, Michael’s having, you can already feel the warm steam from the running water mixing in with the heavenly scent of Michael’s body surrounding you with that kiss.

Michael prefers to shower first thing in the morning on his days off whereas if he has business to tend to or places to be, he’ll do so at the end of his day like you.

It may be a day off for both of you, but the same doesn’t apply to the twins who have half a day’s worth of tutoring and studying awaiting them.

As you walk out of your bedroom and down the hallway, you step into the nursery room to check on baby Vincent first thing.

As you and Esther have left it, the nursery door remains open so you can both easily hear Vincent’s crying or stirring from his sleep.

Taking a quick look in, you see baby Vincent still curled up in his crib sleeping soundly; bringing a smile to your lips.

Moving a bit further down the hallway, you quietly open the door to Niccolo and Verona’s bedrooms side by side with one another before stepping into each one and gently nudging the children’s shoulders before giving them a kiss on the cheek.

“Niccolo, Verona, good morning. It’s time to wake up, you two!”

“Mmmmm…” Verona squirms in her bed, stretching out her arms. “I’m…awake.”

“Sleepy,” Niccolo groans back from his room, sitting up in his bed. “It’s morning already?”

“It is,” you chuckle, stepping back out into the hallway. “Good morning to both of you.”

“Where’s daddy?” Verona pulls herself out of bed, rubbing her eyes.

“He’s showering right now but will join us for breakfast soon,” you gesture to the two as they put on their slippers. “Come on, honey. Let’s get you two washed up and ready to start the day. I think your little brother is…” You squint your eyes, peeking into the nursery room again. “Still asleep.”

“Vincent is very sleepy,” Verona giggles, skipping to the estate’s second bathroom with her brother.

“I say that too and then the next moment, he’s suddenly awake and staring at us,” you laugh to yourself, following the twins.

“Minty fresh,” Verona picks up her toothbrush with Niccolo, smearing a modest amount of toothpaste over it before handing it to her brother and staying by the sink.

“Mhmm,” you pick up Verona’s hairbrush, standing behind her. “And how would you like your hair styled today, sweetie? Any ideas?”

“I really like the pigtails we did last week, mama,” Verona beams, beginning to brush her teeth. “With the red ribbons!”

“Ooh, of course,” you step back to open one of the bathroom cabinets, taking two silky, red ribbon ties and slipping them over your wrist. “Pigtails for today it is.”

“Mama, are you gonna tell us about your trip?” Niccolo asks curiously, wetting his toothbrush.

“Ya, like—” Verona covers her toothpaste-filled mouth, “if it’s really fun flying on an airplane!”

“I never thought about it that way,” you smile at the two, styling through Verona’s hair. “Honestly, I haven’t really been thinking of the trip. It wasn’t anything for fun, after all, otherwise, we would have taken you too.”

“Yeah,” Niccolo agrees, looking at himself in the mirror as he begins to brush his teeth. “Daddy had work.”

“And I always get sleepy and tired on plane rides, even if where we’re going isn’t too far away,” you admit sheepishly, tying up one ponytail over Verona’s hair.

“Mama gets too cozy,” Verona laughs, “I would too! Las Vegas is close to home, right mama?”

“It is,” you nod back, “so it wasn’t too bad to travel there. Your father and I just wanted to get home as soon as we could.”

“Why, mama?” Verona continues asking.

You pause for a moment, continuing to brush through her hair. “Because it was dull and boring, all for work and business for your daddy. We had to get it done though, but I won’t say I had fun.”

“That’s fair, mama,” Niccolo agrees. “Maybe it’ll be fun if we come.”

“Maybe,” you tie up the second pigtail over Verona’s hair. “You guys want to go on a vacation soon?”

“Soon, yes!” Verona exclaims, moving to rinse out her mouth by the sink.

“We absolutely will,” you take out a tin of hair gel from the cabinet, moving to style and brush through Niccolo’s hair next. “Your daddy and I were thinking of it. I can’t remember the last time we took you guys to Sicily, you know. You were both just little babies.”

“Yes, please!” Verona giggles through rinsing her mouth. 

“I wanna go too,” Niccolo chimes in, “Grandma and Grandpa always talk about Sicily.”

“You won’t have to wait too long then,” you plant a kiss over Niccolo’s head before combing through his hair. “Your daddy wants to go just as much as we all do, and maybe you guys can remind him today too, hmm?”

“I will for sure,” Verona turns off the tap, grabbing a face towel. “I wanna go and visit!”

“Me too,” Niccolo slowly moves towards the sink so you can continue styling the gel carefully through his hair while he rinses his mouth out. “We all go with Daddy!”

“He’ll be downstairs in just a minute,” you glance out towards the hallway, “let’s both get you dressed so we can meet Daddy downstairs.”

~

Turning off the water, Michael pulls back the shower curtain and gives out a deep breath—letting the hot steam of the shower surround him as he squeezes out the excess water from his hair.

Michael rakes a hand through his wet hair, slicking it away from his face before he steps out of the shower and reaches to grab a body towel.

Wrapping the towel around his waist securely, Michael takes a separate towel to ruffle through his hair as he approaches the foggy sink.

Wiping his hand over the mirror to clear it, Michael notices a bit of his stubble is growing through and opens the cabinet behind the bathroom mirror to grab his razor and a tube of shaving cream.

Standing in front of the sink, Michael begins to modestly lather shaving cream over his cheeks and jawline, faintly being able to hear the sound of you and the children heading downstairs for breakfast.

Carefully yet in swift, quick motions, Michael shaves without a single nick or cut over his skin; rinsing off his face before applying a cooling aftershave balm.

Michael continues to press the towel down through his hair thoroughly to soak up as much moisture as he can before he combs through it neatly and reaches for his tin of hair gel.

Barely being able to tell that his hair is still damp, Michael begins to thoroughly apply the gel and slick his hair back from the middle; keeping it neat without a single strand loose and out of place.

Michael then makes his way into the bedroom, drying himself off with his towel before picking out a pair of grey briefs, a white dress shirt you ironed for Michael the other day with a pair of black slacks, a matching waistcoat, white socks, and a tie. 

Setting aside his suit jacket, Michael doesn't intend to wear it in the comfort of his own home knowing he won't have business or guests to entertain today—no exceptions regardless of how "urgent" others may consider it to be, but Michael's also never been lazy or sloppy when it comes to his choice of attire no matter the occasion or time.

Spraying cologne over his neck and collarbone, Michael walks out of the bedroom and shuts the door behind him, looking forward to spending the entirety of his day with his family and only his family; perhaps limited in interaction with Sonny for now as Michael's internal annoyance and irritation still cool.

Michael especially wishes to spend the vast majority of his time with you and the children more than anything else; missing his children but also knowing he didn't get to spend much quality time with you in Las Vegas either, aside from last-minute lovemaking in the evening.

Michael first approaches Vincent's nursery before heading downstairs, seeing the crib is empty but the sounds of his baby son babbling downstairs from the kitchen.

The scent of Michael's cologne comes down before you even sense your husband's presence or see him; in the kitchen with baby Vincent sitting in his baby seat close to you and by the dining table with his older siblings.

Verona and Niccolo sit across from each other and surround Vincent, smiling and distracting their little baby brother with a handful of toys as you get to preparing breakfast.

"He's so tiny," Verona giggles to herself, handing Vincent a toy he dropped. "Teeny tiny!"

Vincent smiles up at his siblings aimlessly, very receptive to laughter and positive voices surrounding him. 

"He is a tiny little guy, isn't he?" You chuckle, dressed in a burgundy shirtwaist dress with a pair of house flats on; standing by the stove and preparing breakfast.

While you've just picked up on Michael's cologne signaling he's nearby, Michael's taken in the scent of breakfast being cooked while coming down to the kitchen.

In a pan, you sautee together chopped pieces of bacon, Italian sausage crumble, grated mozzarella and cheddar, green pepper, mushrooms, and small broccoli florets.

You reach into the egg carton next to you on the counter, setting three eggs aside. 

Michael leans against the doorway, taking in the delicious scent of the meat and vegetables being sauteed and feeling the warm spring breeze coming from the back door flow into the kitchen.

Distracted, you crack three eggs into the frittata you're making, disposing of the eggshells in the little trashcan next to you and giving your hands a quick rinse in the sink.

Michael gazes at you with intrigue, watching you quickly your wrist moves to whisk in the eggs quickly into the frittata and reach for a carton of cream from the refrigerator.

Michael's eyes admire the way your hips move, how your dress adorns your body, and every inch of you in nothing but pure adoration.

Already having noticed their father from afar standing by quietly, the twins giggle amongst each other in reaction; very clearly aware as to how their father is lovingly appreciating their mother behind her back.

"Good morning," you hear Michael's velvety voice call out from behind; causing your heart to race just like that.

"Good morning, Daddy!" The twins chime in together.

"Aaa," Vincent shakes his rattling toy aimlessly, unsure why the sudden upbeat enthusiasm is coming from his siblings but just happy to join in on it.

"Good morning, darling," you turn around blushing, seeing a small smile over Michael's lips.

"Aaa!" Vincent raises his voice in excitement, waving around his toy.

"I think he says good morning too, Daddy," Niccolo laughs.

"I believe so," Michael walks into the kitchen, leaning down to scoop up three-month-old Vincent in his arms. "Hello, little man. He's awake early."

"He is," you agree, carefully putting the pan into the preheated oven. "He's being so good this morning despite waking so early, though. Not a fuss made, just babbling little conversations to himself and his siblings."

"He likes to talk," Verona points out, waving at her baby brother in Michael's arms.

Vincent aimlessly stares at Michael, sticking out his little tongue before bumping his head against Michael's temple lightly. "Aa...."

"But how old will Vincent be when he can talk to us, Daddy?" Niccolo asks, sitting upright.

"Almost two years old, I'd say," Michael replies, rubbing Vincent's back in lazy circles gently.

"What?!" Verona gasps.

"Two years?!" Niccolo lets out a deep sigh, "That's gonna take forever!"

"Well, what did you think, honey?" You let out a laugh, setting out jars of homemade grape, strawberry, and raspberry jam from the cabinet.

"Sooner?" Niccolo shrugs his shoulders sheepishly, "Maybe it takes one year!"

"Far too soon," Michael shakes his head as you take out three little bowls to put equal varieties of jam in. "Even the two of you weren't talking in a year. Just a few words here and there."

"Really?" Verona's eyes widen with intrigue.

"Really," you smile back at her, "and you both will get to see Vincent grow up right in front of your eyes so you'll understand."

Niccolo looks up to see baby Vincent clutching his tiny grip over the fabric of Michael's waistcoat, distracted by the texture against his skin.

You set out the selections of jam over the dining table, moving back to the stove. "If it's one thing you all share like your baby brother, it's that none of you could stop grabbing and touching daddy's tie or clothes."

"But Daddy wears Italian silk suits, right?" Verona speaks up.

"That I do," Michael answers, walking towards the back door with Vincent to get some fresh air; amused by Vincent's distraction towards his waistcoat.

"So it's very soft!" Verona exclaims.

"Oh, ya," Niccolo adds, "and very fancy."

"Very," you laugh with them, "Vincent is the master of fancy fabrics."

“He knows he likes his suits,” Michael cracks a rare joke, carefully stepping out into the courtyard as Vincent excitedly rattles his toy in his free hand.

You move the mixing bowl containing ricotta pancake batter over to the stove, adding a small amount to the hot pan and watching it spread into shape. “Almost ready for breakfast!”

“Can I help, mama?” Verona hops off her seat.

“Sure, darling,” you gesture to one of the kitchen cupboards. “We have some biscotti in there. Could you please take some out and set them out on the plate here? We can have some with jam this morning.”

“Okay!” Verona nods, doing as she’s told. “Tasty jam. I help Mama.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” you smile down at her, glancing up momentarily to see Michael slowly pacing around the courtyard with Vincent in his arms.

Vincent snuggles onto his father’s shoulder, chewing on his rattle toy while peeking around the sight of nature around him.

“We’re almost done here…” Distracted, you flip the pancake over carefully and keep the sizes of the others at a consistent size and thickness.

You glance at the other pan of food still steaming hot on the other side of the stove—Italian sausage and eggs—taking note of everything to get ready.

“Smells so good, mama,” Niccolo looks over to the stove giddily, eyeing the homemade marinara sauce smothered amid the Italian sausage and poached eggs. “My favorite!” 

“A favorite of daddy’s too,” you add, beginning to set the silverware and plates out on the dining table.

Niccolo gets up from his seat, helping his sister reach into the cupboard and taking as many cups as he can with him towards the dining table to help out.

“Perfect, thank you two,” you rub Niccolo and Verona’s shoulders—looking towards the backdoor. “I’ll get Daddy and Vincent in otherwise they’ll be out there forever.”

The twins giggle amongst each other as you step out into the courtyard, taking in a breath of the fresh spring air to see your husband walking around the center of the backyard and kissing Vincent’s cheek.

“Hi, baby,” unable to wipe the growing smile off of your face, you approach both of them.

“Hello, darling,” Michael turns around to face you as you lean up, pecking a sweet kiss over your husband’s lips. 

Michael kisses back, gazing at you. “Is breakfast ready?”

“Mhmm, it is,” you gently squish Vincent’s chubby cheek, gesturing for them to follow inside. “Everything’s ready and we’re waiting for you two to come join us! I wonder if this little man is hungry.”

“I think so, considering how he’s been chewing on every toy I give him,” Michael chuckles quietly, taking your hand with his free one before following you back inside the estate.

~ 

Sitting by herself in her family estate across a small distance from yours, Sandra rests her cheek upon her fist and gives out a glum sigh to herself. The day has practically just started; just the morning after you, Michael, and Sonny’s arrival back home from Las Vegas.

Naturally, Sandra understands how exhausted her husband may be from travel. Sonny’s always felt worn out one way or another with long road trips and plane rides, regardless of how far or close his destination is.

Jet lag has never done any good for Sonny who prefers to rest it off by sleeping in much more than he may normally do when given the chance instead of taking naps throughout the day, and a shot or two of whiskey here and there never hurt to keep his mind sharp throughout it.

No different than any other time, Sonny slumped into bed last night tired and with a pounding headache. The only thing he did before falling asleep just a moment after taking a shot of whiskey and mumbling, “I’m exhausted,” to Sandra.

When it comes to Sonny, Sandra’s more than aware that’s her husband’s normal behavior hence why she didn’t question it.

Come to think of it with Sandra’s mind on nothing else but what a lonely morning she woke up to, she’s come to realize Sonny was rather dismissive and even a little cold towards her.

Still, knowing how much of a grumpy, sarcastic mood Sonny can get in when he’s tired and hungry, Sandra lets it be as it is.

She neither minds waking up alone nor having Sonny sleep in especially after travel, but having the children go off to the governess first thing in the morning and have breakfast by herself after being alone for a few days, the loneliness and lack of companionship hits Sandra hard.

It was after Sandra finished breakfast and began cleaning up that Sonny woke up abruptly and couldn’t fall back asleep.

Instead of letting Sandra know or greeting his wife, Sonny took a hot shower which Sandra overheard then fixed himself a drink of gin and tonic for breakfast which came off as somewhat odd to Sandra.

Sandra’s already guessing something is up with Sonny since it seems as if he’s practically avoiding her but she can’t make any sense of it.

Rising from her seat on the couch, Sandra frowns and looks around the quiet, empty house—wishing she could at least spend some time with Sonny and ask him how his trip went. After all, Sandra knows everyone else is spending time with their families and enjoying breakfast together right now except her.

Feeling left out and alone, suspicion slowly begins to grow over Sandra who begins to approach Sonny’s study, knowing he’s in there from the ruffling sound of newspapers and Sonny setting down his drink.

From the ajar door, Sandra sees her husband sitting over a leather armchair with his ankle crossed over and resting on his leg—reading through a newspaper.

“Sonny?” Sandra places her hand over the door, peeking in with concern over her expression.

Sonny purposefully takes a few extra seconds to react, looking up at Sandra with boredom and slight irritation. “Huh? Yeah, what is it?”

“Nothing, I just wanted to check up on you,” Sandra replies, frowning. “You missed breakfast.”

“Yeah, I know,” Sonny grunts, stretching out his arms. “I was tired.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Nah, I had something to eat already,” Sonny says, returning his attention back to the newspaper in his hands.

Sandra remains quiet, standing by the door for a moment; she knows Sonny has nothing else to say to her nor does he even want to carry a conversation with Sandra right now, but she can’t understand why Sonny’s acting the way he is now.

“What?” Sonny asks after a moment, growing more tense.

“Nothing,” Sandra murmurs, turning around and shutting the office door behind her.

Heading into the foyer, Sandra puts her Mary-Janes on and exits the estate. She makes her way to what used to be Fredo and Deanna’s shared estate, now belonging to Connie and Leo.

Knowing the only one she can confide in over her brother’s behavior that isn’t spending time with family or is occupied this morning is Connie, Sandra hopes to herself that her sister-in-law can ease her overthinking and offer some advice.

If it’s anyone who knows Sonny and his antics well and on a much different level than a brother would, it’s Sonny’s own sister—Connie. Besides, Sandra doesn’t at all feel up to bothering anyone else like you or Theresa whose shy, reserved, and put off by Sonny’s behavior to begin with.

Deanna on the other hand is in Hollywood shooting a film with Johnny Fontane, but her relationship with Sonny is just as limited as Theresa’s.

‘Then again..’ Sandra glances over in the direction of your estate. ‘There’s Victoria.’

Immediately, Sandra’s mind goes back to the events of what occurred in New York whether she wants to remember it or not; seeing Sonny with blood gushing out of his nose, swelling, and puffiness reaching his eyes all bleeding and bruised when Michael confronted him about why he made a move on you.

Like the others, Sandra was also under the impression Sonny went to New York to check on you and the twins. Everyone assumed Sonny would also bring news to Tom or Michael, but only those two and Sonny knew what was really going on and why you left for New York in the first place.

Sonny never told Sandra why you were in New York to begin with as everyone knew how personal the reason was and would prefer to forget it all entirely.

While Sandra doesn’t know the whole story of the whys and hows of New York, she does know that Michael refused to speak with Sonny for an entire month let alone have him remotely near you because Sonny kissed you and attempted to seduce you in New York.

Sandra unfortunately knows she’ll never not be jealous when thinking of everything that happened, but it’s toned down over time and her emotions don’t get as strong over remembering it either.

Sandra also knows you didn’t kiss Sonny back or pull a move on him. She figures as she’s heard from you and your reaction that you must’ve been nothing but shocked and disgusted; Sonny’s your brother-in-law after all and you would never do that to Sandra, let alone ever to Michael.

At that point, time was the only remedy for everything that had happened. You felt somewhat alienated from Sonny as a result for a little while and Sandra witnessed that herself.

Still, despite apologizing to you and hearing your side of the story, Sandra can never truly live down her guilt and shame of how she embarrassed herself by talking down to you at your mother’s funeral.

Sandra swallows her remaining, stinging jealousy down but not her pride. She doesn’t want to talk to you at all regarding Sonny; it’ll do nothing but rouse her imagination the wrong way about her husband.

Instead, Sandra continues to go up to Sandra’s estate with the hopes that her sister-in-law can offer her advice and lift her spirits or at the very least that Connie can tell her anything she knows about the trip to Las Vegas.

Of course, Sandra plans to speak with you later in the afternoon and hear more about how you are and how the trip went, but Sandra’s concern right now doesn’t have anything to do with the actual traveling or Las Vegas; Sandra’s only concern is Santino.

~

It’s not unusual for the gateways, doors, and balconies of individual estates on the Lake Tahoe compound to be left open during the day although high security is guaranteed twenty-four hours a day throughout the entire week. 

It only signifies that your family isn’t busy, away from the compound, or seeking privacy, and is welcome to anyone popping by, hence why Connie’s estate door is left wide open this morning. 

Sandra also knows Leo is currently away in New York at the moment, traveling back and forth from the state to Nevada with and for Connie when time and business permits. 

From the moment Sandra enters Connie’s estate, Connie and Mama Corleone in the kitchen already pick up on the sound of someone’s kitten heels clacking against the mahogany floorboards and she guesses it’s either Sandra or Theresa purely based on shoe choice. 

In the kitchen, Connie prepares a pot of black tea, chatting away with Carmela about her next planned trip to New York with Leonardo just as Sandra enters the kitchen—smiling sheepishly and hugging her own arms. 

“Hi, honey,” Mama Corleone’s eyes light up at the sight of Sandra.   

“Hey, Sandra,” Connie greets, turning to face her sister-in-law. “Good morning.” 

“Morning,” Sandra says back, glancing around the kitchen uneasily. “Done breakfast so soon?” 

“Oh, we just finished up a few moments ago. Did you?” Mama Corleone peeks at her. 

“Mm,” Sandra nods, “I had a short one. I just sent off the kids to their studies and that’s that,” she lets out a soft sigh, realizing that if she remains here and talks like this that it invites Mama Corleone to stay and listen too. 

Naturally, Sandra has no issue with Mama Corleone consoling her or giving her advice but at this point, Sandra’s far too embarrassed to talk to her mother-in-law about Sonny again and again. 

“Actually, um, I was wondering if I could talk to you, Connie?” 

“Of course,” Connie agrees, exchanging a glance with Mama Corleone. 

“I’ll see you girls at lunch then,” completely understanding, Carmela smiles at her girls before she begins to make her way out of the kitchen. “Take care!” 

“Bye mama,” Sandra calls back out before facing Connie once more and seeing the concern growing over her sister-in-law’s face. 

“There’s that look in your eyes again,” Connie points out, taking out another tea cup. “Let me get you something to drink first, honey. Go on, have a seat. I already know.” 

“Thank you,” Sandra murmurs, closing the kitchen door behind her before taking a seat at the dining table. 

Connie pours two cups of steaming, black tea and takes a tiny bowl holding sugar cubes and small stirring spoons over to the dining table, sitting across from her sister-in-law. “I could tell just by the way you walked in here that something had to be wrong.” 

“I wish I could prove you wrong,” Sandra says glumly, “never been the greatest at hiding my annoyances, have I? Thank you,” Sandra pulls her teacup over the table to herself with two sugar cubes. 

“You and me both,” Connie chuckles, letting out a deep breath. “What is it? What’s troubling you? Go on, I want all the details.” 

“I didn’t wanna make it a big deal because I don’t know what’s going on,” Sandra begins, staring at her tea. 

“You always say that,” Connie points out, raising her brows. 

“I know,” Sandra whines quietly. “But it’s Sonny.” 

“What about him? Or do I even need to ask?” Connie rolls her eyes, “what’s he gone off to do this time?” 

Sandra blinks, unable to come up with an immediate response. “It’s his trip. Sonny came back from Vegas with Michael and Victoria…” 

“Mhmm,” Connie nods, listening. 

“He was exhausted when he got home, so he wanted to go to bed right away which is fine—” Sandra shakes her head, “he had a drink before, didn’t talk to me or the children whatsoever, and just went straight to bed.” 

“Huh,” Connie notes, “exhausted, then?” 

“Yeah, he was,” Sandra answers. 

“I didn’t see him as ‘exhausted’,” Connie stares back at her. “That’s a bit of an overstatement now isn’t it?” 

“You saw him last night?” Sandra raises a brow, knowing all Sonny did was barge right into the estate the minute he grabbed his luggage from the car and wasted no time in doing so. 

“Yeah, Sonny barged in here all annoyed and asking for whiskey. I’d say he was more grouchy than ‘exhausted’. He definitely had more than enough energy to march in here like that.” 

“That’s not what I saw or heard,” anxiety begins to spike up in Sandra. “I mean… Sonny told me he was tired and going to bed—I didn’t get another word out of him after that. He finished his drink and went to sleep—whatever. Slept in for two more hours this morning and it’s like he missed breakfast on purpose because I swear to you, just as I finished cleaning up and sent off the kids to the governess, he awoke. Sonny didn’t say a word to me, didn’t come in to eat anything. He just made himself a gin and tonic—I don’t get it. He’s being so cold to me, this isn’t normal. He’s completely disinterested in anything I have to say. It’s like every time I try to approach him, I annoy him.” 

Connie takes a sip of her tea, pursing her lips. “Victoria didn’t tell you?” 

“Tell me what, Connie?” The tip of Sandra’s ears and the nape of her neck prickle hot with brimming anxiety. “I haven’t spoken to her since before she left. I thought I would after lunch today.” 

“I saw Victoria briefly before she went in last night,” Connie tells her, “just made some small talk—asked her how the trip went and if she needed anything because if anyone was exhausted, it was her. I may as well tell you,” Connie shrugs her shoulders, “though I’m not sure if it’ll surprise you or be something you haven’t heard before.” 

“Why?” Sandra’s throat tightens as she mixes her sugar cubes inside her tea. 

“I mean, they went to Las Vegas, Sandra,” Connie licks over her lips, “Sonny wasn’t exactly there for ‘business’.” 

“I see,” Sandra mumbles to herself, looking far more distraught than Connie expects. 

“Okay, you let him off the hook too much, honey,” Connie sighs, shaking her head. “He just goes left, right, and center and he’s been doing that since we were teenagers. Sonny’s excuse is that you let him and it’s disgusting. I don’t know how you deal with it.” 

“I never really let him do ‘anything’,” Sandra rakes a hand through her hair, letting out a shaky sigh. “Sonny can barely control himself. It’s how he is, how he always was. You know our marriage didn’t change him and neither did having kids. His dick has a mind of its own.” 

“Yeugh,” Connie fake gags, brushing off the comment. “I know, trust me.” 

“But what does Victoria have to do with this?” Sandra holds back the growing emotion in the back of her throat. 

“It’s not that, Sandra, relax,” Connie lets out a soft laugh, “relax! She’s just as mad as you, honestly. Victoria was scolding Sonny the whole trip. She won’t talk to him, she said. He must have pissed her off real good this time.” 

“Because he couldn’t keep his hands to himself?” Sandra suggests. 

“When it comes to Rita Duvall, definitely,” Connie rolls her eyes with a scoff. 

“Rita,” Sandra repeats. “Rita? Are you serious?” 

“Mhmm,” Connie appears somewhat amused towards Sandra’s irritated reaction upon the mention of Rita Duvall’s name. “Now that’s two negative reactions whenever that woman’s name is mentioned. I guess you know a bit about our favorite dancer and mistress extraordinaire outside Victoria’s personal grudge towards her?” 

“Do I?” Sandra scowls, “I’ve had my fair share of tugging Sonny’s ear about that whore.” 

“Yeah?” 

Sandra takes in a deep breath, only growing much more irate. “She’s a good-for-nothing whore. Everything she does is for attention and on purpose. She and Sonny—they… The fucking chemistry they have—” Sandra’s eyes begin to tear up as her voice shakes. “How could I not fucking hate her? I can’t stand her or her whorish antics, tricks, and shows—whatever the hell she does. She’s nothing but eye candy, a pleaser and Sonny loves it. She’s exactly what he wants, you know?” 

“Sandra—” 

“Sonny won’t fuck an honest woman the way he loves to fuck his whores,” Sandra’s eyes pool with tears, “She’d look me in the eye and do my husband if she could, but that’s not exclusive, right? It’s not that hard to have Sonny head over heels for you, it’s just impossible for me and I’m his wife. It wasn’t impossible for Victoria.” 

“Hey,” Connie interrupts sharply, placing her hands over the top of Sandra’s. “Honey, it’s okay. It’s alright. No, I get what you mean completely but Victoria doesn’t have Sonny wrapped around her finger. Don’t say that.” 

“H-how am I supposed to know?” Sandra breaks down in tears, weeping. “Everyone can have my husband but me! So I don’t have a choice, Connie. I have to suspect everyone and I hate her. I hate Rita and I hate anyone like her!” 

~ 

[ 6 Months Earlier: Las Vegas, Nevada ]

“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time to welcome the night of your life where filthy sin and heavenly lust collide; where lines of love and arousal blur to please you! This is a night to remember and accept splendor and entertainment with the one and only, Miss Rita Duvall!” 

The glistening silver curtains encrusted in crystals flutter about over the stage, reflecting over the polished, white marble stage to reveal Rita behind—slowly spinning in a life-size bird cage made of solid gold, decorated in the same dazzling crystals and diamonds. 

Wearing silk, red gloves with diamonds adorning her fingers, Rita’s strawberry blonde hair is curled over her shoulders—bringing attention to the sparkling ruby necklace upon her collarbone, the smokey makeup over her eyes, and cherry red lipstick matching the fiery, scarlet shade of red she wears in a sleeveless bodysuit decorated with the same precious gems and rubies. 

Much like a Vegas showgirl’s classic bodysuit, Rita stands out as the star of the show with a mock peacock tail affixed to the back of her costume; real feathers dipped in crimson dye with matching six-inch stilettos over her feet. 

Background dancers dressed similarly to Rita but without distracting away from having her become the center of attention and swirl about the stage, dancing, and grouping together to slide and push the birdcage towards the middle of the stage. 

Gasps from the crowd mesmerized in awe come from around the room, erupting in cheer and applause which Sonny joins; seated in the second row at the very front of the stage with Michael and Leonardo. 

Close enough to practically smell Rita’s perfume, Sonny’s eyes are fixated on her as Rita blows out kisses to the crowd, swaying her hips over the cushioned seat inside the life-size birdcage. 

Michael ignores anything and everything to do with the show entirely, effectively blocking it out while focusing on his dinner and keeping an eye on the time to anticipate when all of this nonsense will be over and his business partner will come to meet him. 

Amongst all of their family, colleagues, and business partners, Michael and Leonardo remain to be the odd ones out with no interest in erotic shows, brothels, or mistresses for their own reasons; Michael’s being quite self-explanatory knowing him. 

Leonardo on the other hand has always been indifferent to it; it’s not so much that he minds such entertainment and opportunities, but he chooses to have nothing to do with them. 

In the middle of a show like this where it’s hard to ignore what’s going on—let alone the performers themselves—Leonardo can appreciate that it’s a form of entertainment enjoyed by many, and that’s all he’ll take it as without making it personal. 

While Michael can hide his dislike and annoyance for anything without effort, Leonardo can’t hold back from having his expression show exactly how he feels. Since Leonardo initiated a relationship with Connie—now his fiancé—he feels all the more disinterested and uncomfortable. 

Performers, dancers, prostitutes, and showgirls like Rita and Rita herself are a hot commodity amongst rich businessmen, politicians, and influential men seeking entertainment and companionship so there’s never a gap in bookings and demand. 

‘It’s not her entertainment skills or whoring that’s her “talent” either. She’s ‘talented’, alright, but in ways you wouldn’t imagine.’ 

Aroused by how little he’s seen already, Sonny eyes Rita’s plump thighs—admiring how the color red matches her vigor and passion on stage. 

Rita grinds her hips, dancing sensually around the bars of the birdcage slowly to show off every inch of her body. 

‘There’s a million Rita Duvalls. Give any cocktail waitress or Vegas showgirl a big enough gig and she’ll do what she does best, but Rita wants more. Nothing is ever enough for her.’ 

Sonny whistles under his breath, momentarily capturing Michael’s attention who looks up at the stage for only a split second to see Rita look in their direction and lick up one of the bars. 

Unphased, Michael immediately looks away once more with zero intention of even glancing up for a moment to the stage again whereas Sonny can hardly hold back his throbbing erection. 

‘I don’t know if she has issues of her own or if she’s a narcissist who gets high off all the attention, but Rita wouldn’t look anyone in the eye who can’t give her what she wants. She can only entertain for so long until she catches the eye of somebody who finds her the most irresistible of the night.’ 

Michael is no stranger to such forms of entertainment. Half the time Michael travels for business or is meeting with his business partners at any time, some sort of similar entertainment is almost always provided. 

Usually, however, the nature of the entertainment isn’t solely erotic or anything like this, let alone with a face Michael recognizes. 

Michael’s aware tonight’s show harbors on pure erotica, but later on in the evening, he’s also bound to discover it’s a sex show later on. 

Sonny wouldn’t miss this level of entertainment for the world, always preferring to mix pleasure with business and never considering himself as dull as his younger brother. 

Michael can and will purposefully miss any shows of obscenity and promiscuity. Nothing gets to him not just because Michael’s interest in such entertainment is low, but rather that it’s nonexistent. 

Michael’s business colleagues would die in the face of boredom if they did business the way Michael did; long meetings face-to-face in silence for hours with nothing but relevant talk. 

‘Rita has the first pick of the best venues. Rita won’t perform somewhere she knows money won’t roll in. Businessmen, investors, politicians—think of the wealthiest, most influential men. That’s why she’s there.’ 

Pleasure in business is seen as a casual thing by most mafiosi; some even talk business at brothels rather than anywhere else. 

None of it particularly bothers Michael to a personal extent, but he can certainly count on his fingers how many mafiosi he knows that don’t indulge in such entertainment: himself, Vito—his father—and Leonardo, his brother-in-law. 

‘Rita knows her audience. Married, usually middle-aged men with a wife and kids at home… Talking about what an honest woman can’t give him.’ 

Rita is all flair and style—what she’s known for better than anyone else in Las Vegas. Using all of her stage props and background effects to dance and sing at the same time, she puts on a show to remember for tonight. 

Interacting with the crowd is just another act Rita intends on doing tonight, something that immediately spiked your dislike for her when Rita first tried it with Michael at a family event with children present; despite being an adult performer, Rita knew what she signed up for and willingly crossed those boundaries after all. 

‘She’s far from being honest and she knows it. She uses these men for arm candy, influence, reputation, and above all—sex and money. They make for the best kind of blackmail. She’s made that obvious enough.’ 

Rita doesn’t have any boundaries and she doesn’t feel the need to either. Rita offers what she does and has a “take it or leave it policy”, asking if everyone else loves it, why don’t you? 

Michael checks the time on his watch again as Rita parts away from the birdcage and begins to dance to the tune of a sultry, slow sogn upon the stage; making sure the feathers on her bodysuit bounce and shake with every move. 

It’s then and there that Michael notices just how absolutely fixated Sonny is on Rita, mindlessly staring at her. 

Michael doesn’t need to look up to Rita to see why, but his brother’s blatant arousal and unprofessionalism are beginning to irritate Michael; all Sonny’s been doing the entirety of the trip is paying attention to nothing but women. “Let me know when you decide to attend business for business one of these days.” 

“Relax, Mikey,” Sonny chuckles, looking away from Rita for the first time since the show started. “I’m enjoying the show, she’s performing, I don’t wanna let it go to waste. I don’t get you two.” 

Leonardo looks up from his plate, biting into a piece of steak. “Why’s that?” 

“Well, never mind, I guess,” Sonny grins, “I’m not saying anything towards you. You’re engaged to my sister.” 

‘She’s no performer, dancer, entertainer, or whatever the fuck she calls herself. We all know what she is. I wasn’t born yesterday. Rita’s a blackmailing whore.’ 

Eyeing Sonny from the table as she performs, Sonny’s lustful and interested gaze on her hasn’t gone unnoticed with all that admiring. 

It helps all the more that Sonny’s seated so close to the stage and with Michael Corleone whom Rita knows is impossible to get a shred of attention or interest from but Rita’s satisfied with luring in one Corleone brother before she aspires to go back to back with another. 

The only positive purpose doing business in such venues, clubs, and brothels serves most mafiosi besides personal pleasure is the fact that if there’s unwanted or hostile presence of police and FBI not on a mafioso’s payroll, it’s much easier to be able to appear as a couple of businessmen chatting and having drinks while enjoying a show than appearing suspicious. 

None can hear nor suspect any illicit business is being discussed or ongoing from music, singing, and distractions after all. 

Michael still refuses to pay any attention to Rita’s show during her second act even when his business partners arrive; consisting of her emerging from an amethyst and diamond-studded, lifesize clam large enough to comfortably fit three people in. 

Completely and utterly in awe as if he’s in a trance, Sonny and the rest of the invited businessmen are thoroughly entertained and their enjoyment and need for entertainment is just a necessary, lesser evil Michael comes to accept. 

If such needs to occur for business to come along smoothly without issue, then Michael has no issues with it although he finds it all negatively distracting. 

Slow jazz music builds up to its climax as Rita fully emerges from the clamshell, causing business discussions at the table to be briefly interrupted as a result. 

Leonardo and Michael look over to see Rita no longer dressed in her peacock-inspired bodysuit but only in a pair of bra and panties made from a lightweight chain and decorated in pearls and diamonds. 

Rita extends out her arms to the tune of the jazz music, throwing her hair back and stepping out the clam barefoot. 

Just as Michael’s about to divert his gaze once more and remind his business partners what the task at hand is, Rita places her hand over her bra and pulls it off with ease—causing the pearls and diamonds to spring loose and around her on the stage. 

‘She’ll curl up in the arms of any rich, powerful man who can give her a night to remember, spoil her and pay for the new diamonds you see on her ears.’ 

More hoots, whistling and cheers can be heard from the crowd and from Sonny himself as Rita remains completely topless; her breasts springing free as she pulls the matching panties down her legs—bending over. 

“Goddamn,” Sonny chuckles to himself, taking in the view. 

Michael sighs quietly to himself, understanding this is now a full-on sex show rather than the other forms of performances and entertainment he’s had the misery of having to attend yet he isn’t surprised. 

‘When she doesn’t want to let go of her arm candy, she’ll just resort to blackmail. Easy to do to politicians who can’t keep their eyes or hands to themselves, to begin with. It’ll give her the big payday she’s looking for and everyone moves on. She craves it just as much she craves the attention.’ 

Michael lights another cigarette, figuring whenever Rita’s done with her jaw-dropping antics, everyone can get back to business even if that means it looks like Michael will have to wait longer. 

Rita’s third and final act of the night consists of the curtains drawing back once more to reveal her sitting naked inside a massive, human-sized cocktail glass that matches the gems of the clam from her second act. 

Rita lets the pink-colored water inside the cocktail glass soak over her skin as Rita rests her arms on the rim of the cocktail glass. 

Rita then raises up her thigh, letting the pink water drip off as she begins to massage and caress the liquid over her body. 

‘She’ll never have to worry about blackmailing Sonny… If she was to, that would mean he’d want to stay away from her for good, right? Right?’ 

[ Present Day, Lake Tahoe Compound ]

Connie frowns, clasping a hand over her mouth as she stares at Sandra. 

“Say something, please,” Sandra croaks—her throat tightening. 

“Sandra, I’m so, so sorry—Sandra! Sandra!” Connie gasps as Sandra bolts from the dining table, almost spilling her tea. 

“SONNY! SONNY!” Sandra shrieks, storming out of Connie and Leo’s estate. 

“Sandra, wait! Oh my God!” Connie jumps up from her seat, rushing after her sister-in-law. “Sandra, no!” 

All Connie can think of is that while Sandra’s emotions, reactions, and outbursts are completely normal and to be expected, she’s guaranteed Vito and Carmela’s involvement in this now by shouting it for everyone to hear on the compound. 

~ 

Back in your estate shortly after finishing up breakfast with your family, you hold baby Vincent in your arms—indulging in conversation with the nanny, Esther as the twins begin their morning lessons with the governess. 

“Oh, it’s definitely been a while,” you chuckle. “My family visits Sicily regularly, but that’s a given for all the business they do. I think I had more than enough opportunity after we moved to New York, but my studies and work always got in the way.” 

“Would that mean you haven’t been there for five years now? Oh my,” Esther’s eyes widen. 

“Mhmm,” you admit sheepishly, kissing Vincent’s cheek. “Not since the twins were just little babies. Funny enough we’ve been to Rome, Venice, and Florence since but not back to the homeland since. That’ll change very soon.” 

“Looking forward to a good trip for you and the family then, Mrs. Corleone,” Esther beams, “all that time gone by still surprises me. The twins were so tiny, just like this little guy!” 

Before she can say anymore, Esther glances over her shoulder to see Michael stepping out of the estate to approach you; the morning sun glistening over his skin as he keeps both hands in his pockets. 

Understanding the need for privacy, Esther gives both of you a polite smile and a small nod before entering back into the estate to leave you two alone. 

“Hello, darling,” Michael greets you by wrapping an arm around your waist. 

“Hi, baby,” you blush, “I’m thinking we could spend the rest of our morning out on the yacht together maybe with a cold drink and—” 

“SANTINO! SANTINO!” You’re interrupted by the alarming sound of Sandra shrieking around the compound. 

Michael and you exchange a concerned look with one another before rushing out to the front of the estate where Sandra’s continuous scream-sobbing is coming from. 

Sonny’s the first to his wife wailing, throwing down his newspaper and springing out of his seat from surprise. 

“Sandra?!” You call out as Michael keeps a protective arm around you. “Oh—Connie!” You spot your sister-in-law running over, distraught and confused. “Connie! What’s going on—” 

Connie stops in her tracks to see Sandra rush out from behind her estate to inside, only gone for a split second before the three of you watch her screaming insults and curse words in a mix of English and Italian before shoving Sonny outside. 

“Fucking stop! Stop it, alright?!” Sonny grunts, stumbling out of the estate. “What the fuck are you doing?!” 

“GET OUT, GET OUT!” Sandra screams, pointing away from the compound. “GET THE FUCK OUT!” 

“Lower your fucking voice!” Sonny shouts over top over her, brushing off his wrinkled tank top. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?! Huh?!” 

Before you can say anything, Michael—who remains completely calm next to you—raises his free hand up to silence you, giving you a reassuring look but also signaling he won’t give involved in the middle of this and doesn’t want you to either. 

Sobbing and practically shaking, Sandra opens her mouth again to cry out but is immediately silenced by Sonny. “What the fuck are you yelling for, woman?! What’s wrong with you?!” 

“What’s going on?” Michael interrupts, speaking up. 

The three of you including Connie begin to slowly approach as you also notice Tom and Theresa slowly doing so from their estate after hearing everything. 

With security and guards on alert, Al Neri and Rocco slowly begin to make their way over whereas Esther rushes into the central family compound to ensure the children don’t hear or step out, but it’s only going to be a matter of time until Vito and Carmela do. 

Vincent stares around aimlessly, confused by all the yelling and overlapping loud voices around him but seemingly disinterested and unaffected by it as he plays with a few strands of your hair. 

“Even if your father’s life depended on it, you wouldn’t be able to stop fucking whoring!” Sandra shrieks, “every time you go ‘on business’ all you do is whore around! That’s all you’ve been doing for years, isn’t it?! Go ahead, tell everyone, Sonny! And remind Michael and Victoria too!” 

Connie remains silent, biting her lip. All of this hits too close to home, reminding her of how many times she was in Sandra’s place herself when she was still married to Carlo. 

Connie didn’t want anyone silencing what she had to say to Carlo then, so she refuses to attempt to silence Sandra now. 

“You—” Sonny begins, but Sandra cuts him off. 

“Don’t you want everyone to know what you did in Las Vegas?! Go ahead and tell the children while we’re at it!” 

“Sandra,” Michael speaks calmly, shaking his head. 

“It’s true, isn’t it?” Sandra hiccups, facing Michael as Sonny sighs loudly. “It's true when we first got married—” Sandra points an accusing finger at Sonny. “And true before! But Michael, you’re not going to lie to me, are you? What did Sonny do in Vegas? I want you to tell me.” 

“My brother is an adult capable of making his own decisions and thinking for himself,” Michael replies, “I’m not his babysitter. We had business in Las Vegas, yes, but what Sonny did before, during, and after is not my concern nor do I or Victoria witness it.” 

“Thank you!” Sonny scoffs, beginning to turn away before Sandra yanks on his arm and pulls him back. 

“I don’t fucking think so!” Sandra scowls. “I’ll decide that and you’re NOT going to walk away from me, Santino! You can barely control yourself as is and I’ve had ENOUGH!” 

“YOU HEARD HIM!” Sonny yells back, pointing at Michael. 

“Sonny, don’t yell!” Connie frowns, growing uneasy. 

Sonny’s eyes soften momentarily as he looks over at his sister. “I was only there for business.” 

“Victoria,” Sandra narrows her eyes at you. “What did you see? Tell me.” 

You snuggle Vincent to your chest, sighing softly. “Sandra, this isn’t—” 

“Oh no, no.” Sandra glares at you, “you’re not going to tell me how to react, right? If your husband was known to whore around for years, would you really remain quiet? That passive?” 

“Stop,” you stare back at her, unamused. “That’s not what this is.” 

“THEN TELL ME WHAT IT IS!” Sandra screams, causing Connie to flinch. 

“Lower your voice when you speak to Victoria,” Michael warns, hearing the faint footsteps of Vito and Carmela beginning to step out from the central family compound. 

“Tell me, tell me! TELL ME!” Sandra sobs, hiccupping. 

Sonny shakes his head, locking eyes with you; his expression still somewhat hurt from your last encounter with him in Las Vegas.   

“All of New York knows the truth but not me, his own wife!” Sandra points to her chest, “I deserve to know the truth! Tell me!” 

“You do,” Michael agrees, somewhat calming Sandra. “Yes, you do.” 

“Constanzia,” Carmela calls out gently, approaching her and gesturing her away. “Come here, sweetheart. Come, let’s go.” 

You stay put, watching as Vito approaches with a grave look of disappointment on his face—watching his daughter-in-law weep. 

“Papa,” Sandra hiccups, shaking her head. “What have I done? What did I do? Was I a bad wife to deserve this?” 

Sonny bites his lip, embarrassed in the presence of his father and barely able to look Vito in the eye. 

“No, you were not,” Vito answers, scowling at his son. “And Santino does not think so either, does he?” 

“Pop—” 

“Silence!” Vito interrupts. “You’ve caused our family enough embarrassment, you make your wife cry and you speak back to me? Have you no shame, Santino? You treat the mother of your children—your life partner—this way with such disrespect in front of your family?” Vito shakes a scolding finger at Sonny. “I will speak to you alone, Santino, so you don’t embarrass yourself in front of the family any longer, but you owe answers and apologies to your wife.” 

“I want to hear it from Michael,” Sandra sniffles. 

Vito looks over at the both of you, noticing the frowns on your faces. 

“Him or Victoria,” Sandra hiccups again, “they were both in Las Vegas with Sonny. They know. Victoria, tell Papa.” 

You nod, refusing to hold back for Sonny’s sake. “Papa, I didn’t see or hear anything—that’s the truth—but Sonny told me himself he went to spend time with a woman.” 

“Rita, right?” Sandra attempts to catch her breath. 

Michael raises a brow, seriously beginning to wonder how everyone knows Rita Duvall in this family. 

“Aaaaaa…” Vincent snuggles your chest, surprising you by how calm he remains throughout so much shouting being exchanged. 

“Rita, seriously?” Michael stares at Sonny, no longer able to hold back his own disappointment. 

 You press your lips down together, remaining silent and attempting to appear indifferent to the name mentioned. If Sandra knows of Rita, then she already knows about everything else and if her pain lies with Sonny’s affair with Rita, then you can only think of Sandra who’d be happy to hear someone put Rita Duvall out of her misery a few days ago.

The conversation changing to speak of a woman whom you killed recently is no doubt an interesting one between family.

“Jesus,” Sonny sighs, looking away in defeat. 

“Go inside, I’ll speak with you separately,” Vito gestures Sonny away. “Everyone, please give them some privacy. Let us all return to what we were doing, your mother and I will deal with this.” 

Michael gives Sonny one last look before gently leading you away and back towards your estate. “Come on, darling.” 

“YOU WERE WHORING AROUND IN VEGAS WHILE I WAS WAITING FOR YOU AND TAKING CARE OF OUR FAMILY!” Is the last thing you hear Sandra scream to Sonny right then and there before you and Michael enter your estate. 

~

With every step you take until you and Michael are back into the estate with the door shut, you can hear Sandra’s sobbing, Sonny’s disgruntled comments, and Vito’s scolding. 

“C’mon, c’mon, go inside. Get inside, and we’ll talk. Come on, that’s enough. Stop crying.”

“Aa!” Vincent squirms in your arms, only now beginning to grow restless.

“Ah, I’m right here. Right here,” you gently bop the tip of Vincent’s little nose, “hi, baby. Hiiii, look at Mama.”

“Gaaaaahhhh…” Vincent blinks in confusion, beginning to calm down as you give both of his cheeks a kiss.

Michael glances out towards the window, knowing Sandra is sobbing and inconsolable whereas Vito feels disrespected and embarrassed on behalf of the family.

“There, there,” you wiggle a piece of your hair to Vincent, noticing his interest immediately grow. “Mama’s hair is that interesting, hmm? I’m flattered. You’ll grab on daddy’s tie too, right?”

Vincent blathers quietly, holding a few strands of your hair in a loose grip as you turn to face Michael who locks the front door, gazing back at you.

“I…” You take in a deep breath, patting Vincent’s back. “It’s past his nap time. I should put him to bed.”

“Very well,” Michael nods, slipping both hands into the pockets of his trousers. “We need to talk after.”

Strange, cold tension fills the space between you and Michael momentarily towards the matter with Sandra; a lot to consider on Michael’s behalf whereas memories of New York with Sonny come rushing back to you—leaving a mellow taste in both of your mouths

“I know,” you say back, turning around and approaching the staircase. 

“I want you in my office afterward,” Michael watches as you carefully go up the steps.

“I’m tired, Michael,” you say back; whether it’s of today or what just occurred in front of half of the family, you leave it up to Michael to infer.

“I know. I am too.”

You feel the tension in your body begin to ease up as you make your way upstairs with little Vincent in your arms, already noticing how your son snuggles you in a state of sleepiness.

“Let’s get you all cozy and in your bed,” you whisper softly to Vincent, approaching the nursery. “You’re falling asleep on me already. Oh,” you can’t help but smile at how Vincent’s curled up to your chest, peacefully beginning to doze off.

You carefully set Vincent in his crib, tucking him in and minding what position he’s laying in without waking him.

“I need to learn from you, honestly,” you joke, speaking in a very ushered tone as you watch Vincent sleep. “Just look at you…” You sigh in relief, “growing so fast. Three months have gone like that already… I love you, little guy. Mama loves you so much.” 

You make sure to keep the nursery door open for Esther to check in on Vincent if you’re unable to throughout the day and also to hear any crying.

It’s not that you dread returning downstairs to get to Michael’s office or feel anxious about having a talk with him about all that just occurred with Sandra and Sonny, but rather that you feel so burned out from it all that the last thing you want is to be put in the middle—especially if it means Sandra and Sonny’s marriage will be permanently impacted.

None of this is fair to Sandra, but it’s not fair to you either. Then again, you know more about what happened than you’ll ever let on, and Michael knows this too. 

Back in his office, Michael organizes paperwork over his desk—not so much distracted but waiting for you.

You step into Michael’s office, pulling off your hair tie to let your bun unravel free over your shoulders before smoothening it out. 

You don’t even bother to look up at Michael right away who has his hands in his pockets, walking around his desk to approach you now.

Michael can tell you’re not avoiding looking at him directly out of guilt or anxiety, but that you’re tense and a little shaken up from that dramatic encounter with Sandra and Sonny.

Michael approaches you directly, placing both hands over your arms gently. “Relax, darling. You’re very tense.”

Sighing softly, you look up at your husband and frown.

Michael rubs up and down your arms tenderly, gazing into your eyes with nothing but genuine trust.

“Sandra…” You begin.

“I know,” Michael speaks to you in a soothing, calm voice. “There’s nothing we can do about the matter. It must be left between them.”

“And Papa?”

“Pop is disappointed,” Michael nods grimly. “He’ll have his say”

“I’m glad,” you say with a sigh, wrapping your arms around Michael’s shoulders. “Sandra deserves that much at least.”

Michael and you are more than well aware of how Connie didn’t have that kind of treatment from Vito who outright refused to get involved in her and Connie’s abusive marriage.

“I can presume whatever Santino did was as bad as Sandra claimed,” Michael mentions.

“Yes, it was,” you nod back, “Sonny’s lucky. Even with Pop talking to him who I trust will knock some sense into him, he’s still lucky.”

“Hmm,” Michael embraces you, planting a kiss over the side of your neck. 

“If it was my father…” You grimace, “no. He would be in deep shit. Any of my brothers would.”

“That is to be expected,” Michael agrees. “He came and spoke with me shortly after we settled in.”

You blush, gently pressing your forehead against Michael’s. “Sonny did?”

“Yes,” Michael answers, “he came in bitter, entitled, and demanding answers. All he spoke of was you.”

“Great,” you mumble under your breath. “He doesn’t understand what I did was for his own good.”

“I agree,” Michael says, but in reality, he has no idea exactly what you mean. “He questioned your actions and integrity, but I did not. I don’t. As Pop said, we can’t afford a scandal on Sonny’s behalf after Fredo. Deanna is in Hollywood and has held nothing back to journalists about Fredo and his promiscuity throughout their marriage.”

“Figures,” you rub your temple gingerly, “it’s the last thing we need after all of this.

“And the baby,” Michael kisses your forehead. “I’m more concerned about you and our family than anything else. I refuse to make Sonny’s behavior our problem.”

“I know, baby,” you nod glumly. “I didn’t want Pop and everyone to hear all of that but it was inevitable.”

“Perhaps it was for the best,” Michael offers. “The rest is up to them personally, however… You never told me you hit Sonny.”

“He deserved it,” you look up into Michael’s eyes. “Then and there, he deserved it.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“You didn’t expect that though, did you?” You ask.

“I understood why,” Michael replies. “You’re not a bitter and malicious person, Victoria, and you certainly weren’t in Las Vegas.”

“I know how he is,” you say back, practically still able to hear Rita’s whiny voice mocking you over her supposed pregnancy.

“And that brother-in-law of yours? His seed is inside me, so? You know what happens next, don’t you?”

You refuse to mention anything about Rita’s pregnancy to Michael for your own reasons.

“Sonny’s still my brother, and I care about him,” you state. “But he has more to deal with when it comes to his marriage. And as to what I did…” You shake your head, “he just needs to get over it.”

“He will,” Michael takes your hand, leading you towards one of the sofas in the office. “It doesn’t mean anything to me anymore.”

“I understand, baby,” you sit next to Michael on the leather sofa, curling up to his side. “I just want my little peace and quiet with you and the babies.”

“Is Vincent asleep?” Michael wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to his body.

“Mhmm,” you nod, “fell asleep right away. Wasted no time.”

“I wish we could have said the same for the twins when they were growing up,” Michael chuckles quietly. 

“Same here,” you giggle back. “At least they did when they were newborns.”

“A different story altogether,” Michael adds. “Mm, how do you feel?”

“About?” You feel his hand rubbing up and down your back gingerly. 

“Everything, or just about.”

“I’m alright,” you smile back at your husband. “And I know things will be better. I’m not going to let the last few days dictate to me how I should keep feeling.”

“I’m prepared to put the world to a stop if I need to for you, Victoria,” Michael’s hands begin to massage up and around your shoulders. “You only gave birth a few months ago. I want you to relax.”

“I’ll catch up eventually,” you relax in Michael’s embrace. “With this little one.”

“We missed having a baby around,” Michael kisses the top of your head. “The twins… They’ve grown up already.”

“Very fast,” the blush over your cheeks deepens as Michael kisses both of your hands. 

“I’m proud of them and you,” Michael whispers against your forehead before kissing it.

“I love you so much,” you blush back.

“I love you too,” Michael gives your hands a soft squeeze. “You’re an amazing mother, I want you to know that.”

Your heart skips a beat as you feel Michael’s hand beginning to caress down your chest; his movements growing slower and more tender. 

“And an amazing woman,” Michael nuzzles your neck as you find your fingers clutching onto the fabric of Michael’s dress shirt.

“Michael,” you whisper, tilting your head back to feel the warmth of Michael’s lips planting hot kisses over your neck—inhaling in the scent of your floral perfume.

A shiver goes down your spine from arousal as you feel Michael’s nose brush against your skin. “I want to have another child with you…”

“Already,” your breath hitches as you press your body against Michael’s.

“Whenever you feel ready,” Michael’s hands begin to inch up your blouse.

“Considerate,” you tease back—a whimper escaping your lips from Michael’s hands cupping your breasts.

“Your needs come first, baby,” Michael rubs his fingers over your tender nipples—already hardened from arousal. “I can still please you until it’s over.”

You know Michael’s referring to your period which you got in the middle of the night. “Yes, you can…” You writhe in Michael’s lap. “I… I didn’t lock the door.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Michael begins to inch your blouse up. “I want you here right now.”

“Oh, please,” you buck your hips up in arousal, watching as Michael licks his fingertips and continues massaging your nipples.

“You. Are. Mine.” Michael says between kisses over your breasts. “Only mine.”

“Yes,” your eyes flutter shut as Michael slips your blouse up and off over your head.

From where you both lay on the sofa in Michael’s office, you can see your reflections in a small mirror on the other side of the room; watching the way Michael teases and pleases your body.

“Come here, baby,” Michael’s tongue flickers over your breasts as he massages one and suckles over the other.

You moan loudly, tugging over his hair and feeling his hot tongue over your nipple.

Rolling your eyes back from pleasure, you feel you could cum from this alone—feeling just as horny on your period and willing to take all the alone time you can with Michael, right here and right now.

~

Within the same week, Fredo’s infamous brothel in Las Vegas is officially sold and shut down with the new buyer’s intention to tear the entire building and structure down and build anew.

All is well for the Corleone family who anticipated such for a long time coming; now with no need to worry about the physical reminders of Fredo’s legacy and being involved in the prostitution business by affiliation.

The news of the Corleone family now having no official ties whatsoever to any form of prostitution pleases Don Tattaglia who still seeks to have a monopoly over brothels under his family business; something Michael is more than fine with.

It’s not for another five days until the brothel’s managers realize they aren’t able to contact Rita Duvall in any form—has accounted for all the other women who worked at the brothel to move employment to an unaffiliated, new brothel.  

Rita neither answers her telephone nor writes back. Her neighbors cannot remember the last time they saw her enter her apartment which remains eerily silent.

For the sake of formality and to avoid trouble with the law, the brothel managers file an official missing persons case on behalf of Rita, but from the unamused twinkle in the constable’s eyes at the police station, it was easily understood this investigation wouldn’t be taken seriously or as a priority over a missing prostitute.

It isn’t the first time showgirls, dancers, cocktail waitresses, and prostitutes have gone missing before but especially those who are known by the mafia or have curled up to him are almost always expected to go missing eventually.

It’s either a matter of knowing too much, overhearing something, or being under the suspicion one might snitch or get smart-mouthed towards the mafia which causes mistresses to go missing for good.

Rita isn’t the type to run off for dramatics or disappear for a while nor did the news of the brothel shutting down upset her to do so, but neither the police nor the brothel’s managers expect to find Rita ever again.

Still, it would be something to find Rita’s body at the very least and confirm what happened to her once and for all. Rita’s death would have to be covered up by the police and lied about on every report if it was done by the mafia in which one would truly know if it was done by the hands of a made man or a common killer.

Because the death of many others like Rita is common, there’s no special amount of sympathy felt by anyone on her behalf. Only journalists care about these kinds of cases when it benefits their articles and reports.

At this point in time, it’s been a little while since someone like Rita was reported missing or found dead—leaving a gap in time.

Only once a week passes with no information on Rita, nobody able to contact her, and nothing to pinpoint where she may have gone, what may have happened to her or anything in-between does Luciana’s interest begin to spike up.

Luciana already reported on the brothel shutting down, but it didn’t garner as much attention in the media as she thought.

Although she mentioned Fredo’s name in her article which meant the Corleone family by default and expected some sort of public attention towards it knowing how notorious Fredo’s brothels were when he was actively involved and running them, it appeared that the public was tired of the same old story spun in different ways.

Not only does Rita’s disappearance intrigue Luciana, but the fact that the police, her colleagues, and her employers also stopped caring about her almost immediately beckons for a new report.

Without being explicit or defaming, Luciana’s always been reporting on the drama caused by the mafia and every indulgence they have, especially when it comes to debauchery and luxurious lifestyles.

Since mafiosi are seen as wealthy businessmen outside of the underworld of crime, nothing impacts their reputation, family, or payroll so none come to mind but sometimes even appreciate the light of the media on them. The only exception to this has always been the Tattaglia family.

Tattaglia is the only mafiosi—let alone Don—who considers prostitution a lucrative and important business and because such a business is illegal, Tattaglia pats the city police’s pockets well to keep them in their place and their mouths shut.

Despite suspecting or knowing a fair share herself, Luciana doesn’t care. She takes a neutral stance on everything so as long as it doesn’t impact her directly. Some may even call her selfish for how she couldn’t care less what comes of her colleagues; it’s just one less journalist to compete with.

Luciana also couldn’t care less about the hows and whys of what the crime families do. She’s a reporter and a journalist—all she likes to do is get to the bottom of a good story and deliver.

Luciana remains to be the only journalist at her media outlet that cares about “whore gossip” and “drama scandals” to the point where she’s built her career and reputation on it.

After all, Luciana can be considered a nosy, gossipy person, and growing up she was the first to hear, spread and confirm rumors throughout her high school days that never really faded away when she became an adult.

And despite only speaking with Rita once to be bribed out of reporting a news story on her, Luciana doesn’t consider herself to know Rita personally. All Luciana figures are that Rita, a very popular prostitute and showgirl on stage and behind curtains but not so much in her personal life has gone missing and it’s going to make a hell of a headline.

Luciana’s aware Rita’s always spent her fair share of time with the Barzinis and Tattaglias, so regardless of how Luciana words her headline or chooses to write up a story, it’ll shine the wrong light on the two mafia families which could easily get Luciana and all of her colleagues killed.

Now that their “star girl” Rita Duvall is officially missing, the last thing Luciana will want is any heat on her without implying Rita’s possibly murdered.

For now, Luciana decides to write up an article that’ll only make it look like Rita’s a bad girl gone rogue until Luciana can dig up and discover enough information on what really happened to write up something proper.

‘Without a Trace: Star Showgirl and Performer Rita Duvall Missing?’ Luciana stares at her typewriter, amused by the witty headline she came up with.

It’s only a matter of time until Rita shows up with a bolstered reputation as if she was starting her second act or with a ruined reputation because she disappeared and none cared to find out why. 

It’s that, or the third option; that Rita Duvall is dead.

#the godfather #al pacino #michael corleone x reader #michael corleone x oc #michael corleone fanfic #godfather au #michael corleone smut #michael corleone x reader smut #michael corleone #the godfather x reader #godfather x reader #alfredo james pacino #the godfather part ii #moth to flame fic #moth to flame fanfic

[lady-griffin]

You know what always, ALWAYS, breaks my heart.

The fact that Jinx truly doesn’t believe she is loved; yet she is one of the most loved people in this entire show. It’s just so fucking tragic that she can’t see that.

Silco and Vi love her so goddamn much.

The climax of season 1, boils down to these two fighting for Jinx to pick them over the other, to stay with with them, be their family. 

Jinx has literally just kidnapped them and shown herself to clearly be a danger to their lives and general safety, and yet….

The thought of losing her is unbearable to both Silco and Vi.

Silco would never have given her up. Never!

This is a man who less than a decade ago, would’ve sacrificed anything and anyone for his cause; but now…

He would burn everything and everyone for his daughter. For her to remain at his side.

She killed him and the most important thing to Silco, in his last moments, was making sure she knew he would have never given her up, that nothing was worth her, to comfort her, and tell her she was perfect.

And Vi. My other poor, tragic and beautiful daughter.

I don’t know how anyone can say Vi doesn’t love her sister. Did you even watch the show?

I think it’s such a misjudgment of Vi’s character that people say because she freezes up and doesn’t try “harder” to reach out to Jinx that she doesn’t love her. 

Because think about that for a second -

Vi who is this seemingly unstoppable force of nature, completely freezes when it comes to Jinx.

She is so scared of losing her sister, of saying or doing the wrong thing, of hurting her again.

Vi blames herself so goddamn much to the point that Vi, VI, who is absolutely defined by her fighter response, just freezes when it comes to Jinx.

These two love Jinx so goddamn much and it breaks my heart how Jinx can’t see that; or at least not until it’s too late.

Then you have Ekko. Forget romantic feelings or crushes; this boy loved his best friend so goddamn much and had so much respect for her; that despite her (from his POV) choosing to be ‘evil,’ still put her on his mural of those he’s lost.

Jinx has killed people on that mural; and yet there is Powder in the center of everyone that Ekko lost that one awful night. She is one of three largest portraits up there. That’s an insane amount of love and respect to give to her; especially considering how their relationship devolved.

And then you get to their fight and Ekko who has been fighting Jinx and Silco for years; who has lost many of his people to them. Who is so angry and filled with pain and hates Jinx...

God, the look on his face when he realizes who he’s hurting, who is underneath him. This poor, beautiful boy goes through like several different stages of shock, pain, and longing in a matter of seconds, when he actually sees Jinx.

Then you have Vander. I know we don’t have much between him and Powder, but I am baffled by the idea that people think Vander didn’t love her.

His last words to Vi were - “Take care of Powder.”

In his dying moments, Vander thought of Powder; she was that important to him.

Now, if he has a few more sentences I’m sure he would’ve also told Vi to not seek revenge on Silco, because he wasn’t worth Vi and Powder’s lives and their safety, as well as reaffirm his love and pride for Vi.

But he didn’t get more time; so he said what was most important to him in that moment - “Take care of Powder.”

Don’t even try to say that Vander didn’t love Powder.

And while we don’t see much of them; you cannot tell me that Claggor and Mylo didn’t love Powder. Yes, even Mylo.

Mylo was an insecure, young boy who took out his anger and frustrations on his younger sister; because she was even more of a weak link than he was and he wanted to feel better about himself.

But, I can’t imagine he would’ve ever wanted to be such a source of pain and torment for her, that Jinx’s Demon!Mylo has become.

And, while we only see a few interactions between them, just the way Claggor looked at Powder tells me that he loved and cared for her.

This girl is so beyond loved (and has been loved) but yet, she can’t see it. Likely because she doesn’t love herself; she has a hard time imagining that someone could love her.

Which again, is just heartbreakingly tragic.

#jinx #arcane #arcane jinx #silco #Vi #Ekko #jinx analysis #Vander #arcane powder #silco and Jinx #vi and jinx #ekko and jinx #Vander and powder #arcane vi

[lyinginthesnow]

What makes me lose my mind a bit about Season 2 Kendall is that like— Logan is trying to fully break his will and control him, and Kendall is trying to break his own will in a lot of ways through guilt and self-destructive behaviours, but there’s this tiny stubborn part of him, this desire for self-preservation, that they can’t kill no matter how hard they try. There’s this little instinctual, human voice inside him saying no, I want to live, I want to fight back, I don’t want to be his puppet, I don’t want to drown. Like initially he wants to save Vaulter, and oppose Logan on buying Pierce. Each time he goes up to the roof in “Safe Room”, he comes back down. He confronts Logan when Logan’s getting too cozy with Rhea in “Return”. He seeks out some form of happiness with Naomi (obviously that is self-destructive too given that he knows her presence will enable his drug abuse, but he also does seek connection and joy out of their relationship). But every time this desire to care about himself and fight back rears its head, either he or Logan smothers it. He submits to Logan’s orders regarding Vaulter (“because my dad told me to”) and Pierce. He goes back up onto the roof multiple times. After the confrontation about Rhea, Logan takes him to the waiter’s house, reminding him of his guilt and powerlessness. Seeing that Kendall finds escape in his relationship with Naomi, Logan sends her off the yacht.

So when Logan tells Kendall he is going to be sacrificed in “This Is Not for Tears”, Kendall has reached a point where he obeys without a single protest. “I deserve it. Maybe I deserve it”. But — crucially — Logan disagrees, saying that Kendall has nothing to be guilty about regarding the waiter’s death. Logan’s lines here are really important, because (in my interpretation??) they ignite Kendall’s repressed urge to fight back that has been slowly eroded this entire season, which leads to his decision at the end of the episode. If Logan had responded “yes, you do deserve it”, then Kendall would have walked to his own destruction willingly, giving up, maybe even feeling a sense of righteousness that he was being punished. But Logan doesn’t say that. Instead, he says: “Nah, nah. Not that. NRPI. You’re the best. Don’t beat yourself up. No real person involved. You know, it’s… it’s nothing.“ It’s nothing.

I think Kendall has a realization in this moment which is very similar to the one Rhea has in “DC”, when she says to Logan, “I can’t see the bottom of the pool. I don’t know if you care about anything. And that scares me”. Kendall’s conscience has been eating him up from the inside — but Logan doesn’t have it. He just doesn’t care. The waiter’s death has been weighing on Kendall as the basis for his self-destructiveness (and submission to Logan’s control), but Logan dismisses it so flippantly, almost as if it is irrelevant, since the moral value of that event is currently not related to his own self-interest in using Kendall as a tool. Which is all this ever was. To Logan, it was never about the waiter. It was never some form of “deserved” punishment. It was always just a part of Logan’s game, convenient to him, serving his aims.

So that tiny stubborn part of Kendall comes to life a bit inside him. It says no, no I don’t want to lie down and let you do this to me. I’m not sure he listens to it right away. But it’s there, and it grows bit by bit. No I want to live, no I want to escape, no I want to fight back, no my father is a malignant presence, a bully, and a liar, and this is the day his reign ends

#and obv this is all just my personal interpretation since logan and Kendall’s decision making is soooo subjective — #what is their reasoning?? #and at what point/based on what do they make those choices?? #u could look at it a million ways… #stopping myself from writing ‘in my opinion’ before every sentence of this post was a harrowing experience #anyway #i am very normal about kendall roy daily affirmation #i watched 2x10 recently and. yeah ughghmm it was immensely distressing #logan roy #kendall roy #succession season 2 #succession 2x10 #succession #ruby (unfortunately) watches succession #suicidal thoughts tw #addiction tw

[myobsessionsspace]

Oh how we missed you!

Being apart of an artist/group fandom is so interesting. It’s different from being a casual fan of something, being apart of a fandom. You can say you like an artists’ music, buy a couple of albums, go to a concert and buy some tour merch etc. You may even keep up with news here and there about said artists or group.

Being part of a fandom however is different. Not only do you keep up with their discography, but you try to consume every piece of content you can on your favs, you also try to seek out like minded individuals and communities, where they also are a fan of your favs, to the degree you are. In fandoms you tend to seek more than the readily accessible content the ‘general public’ can easily attain, you find out all the obscure facts on your favs etc

When you’re part of a fandom you do create a sort of ‘parasocial’ relationship with your favs. You are happy for them when they are happy, you’re sad when they are sad, you get to know they likes & dislikes and you miss them when you don’t get new interactions from them.

JIMIN-SSI 🗣️🗣️🗣️

You spoiled us!!!

Jimin has through the years been consistent with his interactions with ARMY.

The member who probably tweeted the most in the first few years on their twitter account.

The member who probably did the most V Lives/Weverse lives.

We used him as our weatherman (even though millions of us don’t live in Seoul).

We relied on his care for our health and to ward off the common cold causing germs.

Even though he never got the hang of being on other social network platforms as much, we could always rely on him for a check in via Weverse.

The man was in hospital after having his appendix out AND STILL updated us, letting us know he was doing well!

So yes, being a BTS fan and having the ‘relationship’ all 7 have created with us, we can say they have all spoilt us. Over the years they have tremendously spoilt us, treating us like their 8th member, their friends, their partners on their journey.

Park Jimin, Mr Dior, Mr Tiffany, Mr 1st Korean Soloist to reach Number 1 on Billboard Hot 100!

Let’s keep our stable king going

You Jiminie, have spoilt us to the point where we feel ‘entitled’ to complain (oh Jungkookie this 2023, Chapter 2, you too have also spoilt us, so so much, thank you!).

But instead of complaining, I’m writing this out of gratitude.

Thank you for treating us triply just recently!

Our Jungkookie, the birthday boy, even though very busy with schedules for his upcoming mini album…

Stream Seven for the birthday boy

Not only did you give an internet breaking post on Instagram for his birthday

Which may have been a birthday post…but it was a present for US, so I say thank you!

Jungkook doesn’t have IG anymore, Jimin has kept us waiting whilst he ‘searched’ for his password and both he and JK live in weverse, so he posted it on Twitter FOR ALL OF US, I’m taking it, thank you very much.

He also fulfilled his ambassadorship role royally and blessed our eyes with his beauty, charm and grace.

To end it all he not only came on live to end his evening with us, he broke down some of his protective walls to show us some of what is inside HIS physical four walls.

We may have mixed feelings about it, ultimately he knows what he’s comfortable with. He knows what he wants to show us, when he wants to show it to us and how he wants to show it to us.

Jimin, we missed you, you are an individual who is entitled to your privacy, your free time, your space and your boundaries. Whenever you do post we love it.

We’re excited for what has been keeping you busy, if it’s anywhere close to our musings based on your tiny hints and what you’ve already shown us artistically, we know it’ll be worth the wait.

💜

#Jimin #We’ve missed you #Dior #I can never not mention Jungkook! #Jikook

[snowbellewells]

Self Promo Sunday: “Got My Angel Now”

This week’s re-run is another that I’ve always been pretty fond of (What can I say? I’m a sucker for the hurt/comfort and emotional angst and healing that could easily have fit into canon, but which the show didn’t always take time for) I initially wrote it after 5x03 “Siege Perilous”, and though some of the events were quickly made canon divergent as the Camelot arc went on, I don’t think it’s so far off as to be ruined for enjoyment’s sake. The title comes from a line in “Halo” by Beyonce, and the lyrics included in the scene breaks are from Christina Perri. (Neither of them, nor our lovely Pirate and Princess duo are mine. I just like to give them quiet moments ;p )

Summary: A post-5x03 one shot where the Storybrooke gang learn of Arthur's treachery much sooner, and in much more painful fashion. (Some whump aftermath and definite CS hurt/comfort involved)

Also available on AO3 and ff.net, if either of those are your preference...

By: @snowbellewells 

They should never have trusted Arthur so blindly. Have they learned nothing yet after meeting so many heroes and monsters of myth and legend and finding them the opposite of how they are painted in the tales of old? Oh, aye, the royal had been stealthy – welcoming them to Camelot, throwing a grand ball in their honor, knighting David as a brother-in-arms and seating him in the very Siege Perilous once held by Lancelot himself – but it had made them let down their guard…and now Emma was paying the price.

Standing surrounded in the tower room Regina and Belle use as they research and experiment trying to find a way to communicate with and free Merlin, Arthur’s treachery suddenly comes into sharp focus for all of them. An entire phalanx of Camelot knights – Dave’s supposed comrades – surround Killian, Henry, David, Robin, and Belle (unfortunately Regina is not present to wipe them all out with a wrathful fireball) with swords at their chests or throats, circled closely enough that breaking free or moving to help the last member of their party is impossible.

Arthur himself stands facing Emma, his blade drawn and pointed just above her heart, poised to pierce her chest and make that precious, priceless organ spill its lifeblood and go still. Killian feels himself practically vibrating both with rage at the betrayal and his fear for her; not to mention the bitter anger he can feel radiating off of the prince beside him. He reaches out a hand to clutch Henry’s forearm, feeling the boy nearly jerk forward to his mother’s aid. He doesn’t think these men would hurt one so young, but he is no longer certain.

“Now Dark One,” Arthur spits, his voice harsh with controlled venom, “you and I are going to the tree. Your magic and the mushroom your noble father so kindly procured for me,” here he slants a gaze at Charming, “will show me what to do to free Merlin and to trap you instead, where you rightly belong.”

Killian knows Emma now possesses enough magic in her little finger alone to blow all these men away, but she holds back, as afraid as any of them that magic use will only continue to give the darkness more footholds in her psyche. She slants her eyes from boldly staring Arthur down to seek his. He wants to tell her to fight, to disappear - escape - and he wishes to know what he can do to comfort her, but the words and the knowledge elude him. Instead, his only ease is found in knowing that Emma’s dagger is nowhere near here – not where Arthur can lay hands on it and control his love. Though he does not know where Snow and Lancelot have taken it for safekeeping, it is at least beyond this broken monarch’s reach.

There is nothing to do but watch as Arthur has two more knights bind Emma’s hands and force her none-too-gently from the room behind him, the rest of the guard linger menacingly, to be sure none of them can follow or try to help her until they are well away.

It matters not; he will catch up, no matter where they take her. Emma must only hold on, keep her faith…

I believe in the lost possibilities you can’t see

and I believe that the darkness reminds us where light can be;

I know that your heart is still beating, beating, Darling,

I believe that you fell just so you could land next to me.

So hold on, hold on…

Though naught but a quarter of an hour passes before the rest of Arthur’s men withdraw from them, it is well into the evening before Killian finds Emma in a moonlit clearing of the dense forest which encircles the kingdom. Their group had split up in the hopes of someone reaching Swan that much faster, once word spread of Arthur’s failing to trap the Dark One and how she had used her powers to vanish from his grasp in the courtyard. Killian still does not know what had been done to her before that, but he can only be glad she has outsmarted their treacherous adversary and saved herself. He practically deflates with relief at the sight of her before him, appearing hale and in one piece. He cannot be anything but glad that it is he who will have a moment alone with his love. It does not matter that it has not even been a whole day, his relief upon seeing Emma again is almost too great to bear. The vision of her before him across the clearing is like the first breath of fresh spring air to his weary soul after too long locked away in suffocating winter. The last few hours he has been struggling for breath, consciously forcing his heart not to skip beats in agony and worry for her and what she might be suffering. His joy is great enough to override caution, and he doesn’t take in the raw, unhinged look in her wild eyes, nor the way she fairly vibrates with some unknown strain or injury.

The air around Emma pulses with electricity, and she throws out a hand to ward him off – pulling Killian up short when he feels the force pressing him back. Drawing in a steadying breath and hesitating to truly study her expression of confusion and anxiety, he realizes with a sharp pang in his chest that he is not sure whether she is merely trying to protect him while out of control, or if she truly doesn’t know him in this moment.

Those mesmerizing green eyes which never fail to capture him in their depths, flit nervously from his face, to his hand and hook, to her own trembling fingers outstretched between them, to the trees that surround them, and back again nervously – clearly unsettled and pained. Their emerald depths have never appeared so dark before, as if the forces fighting within to color her very mind and spirit are attempting to spread into even the smallest details of her being. His Swan literally shakes, even as she attempts to hold herself steady, staring at him across the open space. “What are you doing here?!?” she demands, looking shaken and angry, but at the same time as if she wants nothing more than to close the gap, fall into his supporting arms, and hold on for dear life. “I brought myself here for a reason, Killian! I barely got away from them, and I had to use my powers to do it. I can’t risk something like that happening again. I’m too dangerous to be near anyone until I find Merlin – and not when Arthur is waiting. Not until I get rid of this, this…thing inside me. I feel it swirling and clawing… even when it isn’t speaking to me in Rumplestiltskin’s voice, it’s trying to break free. So…y-you can’t be here! I w-won’t hurt you…” Her lower lip trembles, but she looks so firm in her decision and determined to suffer alone in her misery that his heart constricts, breaking a bit more at the sight of her anguish.

He cannot bear to see her hurting this way, to hear the agony in her voice; the yearning loneliness made plain beneath her warning to him makes him continue to inch closer, regardless of the threat Emma thinks she poses. He had known the wretched feeling of hopeless despair she is feeling all too well himself – for years – until she came along and brought more to his life than revenge, brought back the man of honor he once was. He takes another hesitant step forward, cautiously reaching out for her with a gentle hand and equally coaxing voice. “Easy now, Love,” he practically croons. “We can be careful…but you should not – and will not – have to do this alone.”

“Please stop!” she cries out, shooting another regretful look of longing at him.

Killian shakes his head, unwilling to let her go on like this, sure that he can help her, soothe her, and ease her pain if he can only reach her. He watches as Emma continues to tremble, but she remains still, allowing him to approach, even if she does so fearfully. Finally, the very tips of his fingers graze her cloak, then his whole hand rests on her upper arm, gripping gently as if unsure that she won’t still flee.

Just as she did in that circle of stones when their whole party first arrived in Camelot, Emma expels a terribly ragged breath and deflates, falling into him and clutching his shoulders as desperately as he clings to her. Killian breathes again, having barely realized he was holding it, and smooths a hand through her hair. He is not at all deterred by Emma’s moment of weakness, her nearly unhinged power, nor her fear. He is only glad she has finally reached for him in time of need. He will not give her up; he will find a way to help her, show her he will never fear her – whatever betide – and he will not fail to fight for her against any threat or foe. Watching her battle the Darkness within allows him to see, not her faltering, but even more of her strength. His admiration for her has only grown. No one else could understand the allure of the dark and the valor needed to claw away from it as he can.

‘Cause I have been where you are before

and I have felt the pain of losing who you are,

I have died so many times, but I am still alive

So hold on, hold on….

Tenderly, reverently, Killian’s hand travels on – down from the silken waves of her golden hair to trace Emma’s shoulders, then her back, pressing just enough to draw her closer, only to release her quickly when she cries out in pain at even the slight weight of his hands on her back. She tries to swallow her reaction in the next instant – hide it away – but she cannot conceal the wince that escapes as she curls in on herself protectively, nor can he fail to see the stiff way she holds her shoulders now that he is looking for it.

His calloused fingers come to cup her strong chin, tilting Emma’s face to meet his gaze, so she cannot avoid his eyes. “Where are you hurt, Swan?” he murmurs lowly, voice rough with concern. His words might be soft, but they are taut with worry and anger that these brigands would dare to lay a rough hand on his princess. “What did they do to you?”

Emma shakes her head, pulling away from his cautious grip and biting down on her lower lip in that way she has when trying to avoid baring herself to him, especially if the knowledge he seeks might be painful. “It’s nothing, Killian. Don’t worry over it. I…I could have healed it already…if I weren’t worried about using my magic.”

Impatiently, he shakes his own head once, frustrated at her stubbornness and unconcern for her own well-being. “It is not nothing, Emma. Of that I am quite sure.” His words are clipped with the force of his emotion, accent more pronounced, and Emma feels a shiver skitter down her spine that is as much from attraction as foreboding over what he will do when he sees her injuries. Carefully, but firmly, Killian places both hand and hook on her shoulders and turns her around to face away from him.

For a moment, Emma clutches her cloak about her, trying to keep this revelation from his eyes in one last desperate effort, but when pain lances through her shoulders and she cannot bite back the whimper that escapes her, she knows it is a losing battle. Slumping forward, she releases a sigh and ceases to fight against his gentle determination.

“There now, Lass,” her pirate coaxes in that warm burr of his. His hand and hook barely skim over her form as he unclasps and pulls the cloak away. “Let us see, hmm? Everything will be…” However, his voice chokes and trails off before he can finish his gentle reassurance. A strangled noise in his throat and the sudden heavy tension in the air around them tells her without doubt that once the cloak was off her shoulders, the wide neckline and low back of her dress leave the stinging marks on her flesh exposed plainly to his eyes.

Neither of them move for several long, silent moments, and Emma presses her trembling lips together tightly, trying desperately not to let the tears that are welling in her eyes fall. She hisses when the cool metal of his hook gingerly traces the brand burned into her right shoulder, serving to mark her as a witch, and the scattered whip weals she bore rather than admit anything about where her dagger was hidden, further endangering Merlin and the rest of them. The lash marks pulse hotly along with the beat of her heart and the blood rushing through her veins. Somehow, though, the tender care in his touch soothes her a bit, and she relaxes, almost sinking to her knees in relief and exhaustion as he continues. Her eyes slip closed, and she nearly feels safe again until he whispers in a broken voice. “Oh, Love, how could they do this to you? …I am so very sorry, Emma.”

Her tears do fall silently then, and she turns back to him, wordlessly trailing her fingers across his face, up over his cheekbones, wiping his matching tears away. Shushing Killian even as his shoulders shake with silent emotion, Emma leans against his chest and tries for the first time in what feels like ages to let down her guard and catch her breath at the safety she finds in his arms.

Eventually, Killian pulls back slightly, brushing a loose tendril of her mussed hair off her forehead and resting his hand along the side of her face softly. He shifts to take her hand in his and then leads her to the banks of the small river running placidly behind them. Urging Emma wordlessly to sit on a large rock at the water’s edge, he pulls a clean black scarf from inside his long coat, bends to wet it in the cool water, then comes back to crouch behind her. Clearing his throat in a nervous way that warms her heart, Killian asks gently. “Not to be indelicate, Swan, but can you shrug out of your frock for a moment? Hold it up in the front if you wish, but I need to see your whole back if I am to clean your wounds properly.”

Emma dips her head, blushing fiercely, and does as he asks, sucking in a sharp, pained breath once more as she eases the material from her shoulders and the movement stretches the torn skin of her back. Finally, she wraps her arms tightly around her torso, holding the front of the dress up and bracing herself. Hissing as the damp cloth first makes contact with the bloody stripes sliced into her pale hide, she tries not to flinch or wince and make Killian’s task more difficult; however, she can feel Killian’s hesitance and guilt at hurting her more, even in order to help, regardless of how she tries to hold her reactions in.

Slowly, the water begins to cool the enflamed agony, and she eases a fraction, feeling a bit like his ministrations are healing her as well as any magic could. The feel of his fingers ghosting over her back and down her arm as he finishes and tells her she can pull her gown back into place remind her vividly of another time so long ago, when he used another of his scarves to bind a wound to her hand, seemingly reading her mind as he did so and seeing the attraction she had felt for him even then simmering under her skin. His care that day atop the beanstalk had made her ache to trust him, and looking back now, it nearly floors her to realize just how completely she does trust him – so much so that she would place her very life in his hands without question.

Emma feels the warm exhalation of her pirate’s breath on her neck mere seconds before he lightly rests his forehead there, seemingly needing to hold her as he draws in a shaky breath. They are silent for some time; the running water, bird calls, and scuffling of wild creatures in the brush are the only sounds around them. Finally, he eases away and speaks once more, circling to face her as he does so. “Emma, I know you do not want to put yourself at more risk – nor do you want to be forced to use your magic again to defend yourself, or any of us – but you must return with me. We can find some place for you to stay where Arthur and his sorry excuses for ‘gallant’ knights will never know of your return. You must have some salve or medicine and better treatment than I can offer for those cuts, and especially the burn. I fear it could become infected. Regina will be near enough to guard you with her magic this time, and we will not be taken unawares again. I certainly will not be making the mistake of trusting anyone else in Camelot.”

She wants to argue with him, to be strong enough to stay out here alone and in hiding, but she cannot make herself form the words. In fact, she knows with painful certainty that she cannot bear to have Killian out of her sight right now. Weakened and vulnerable, she needs his comfort and his strength, needs someone with some faith and hope that all which has gone wrong can still work out right. Not only will she worry for his safety and the rash action he might take to right the vicious wrongs done to her, but she yearns for his care just now; his steadfast love the strongest thing keeping the darkness at bay, even as her situation grows more dire.

I believe that tomorrow is stronger than yesterday, 

and I believe that your head is the only thing in your way.

I wish that you could see your scars turn into beauty.

I believe that today it’s okay to be not okay…

Hold on, hold on…

This is not the end of me, this is the beginning

Hold on…

Later that night, as moonlight filters into the isolated old hunting lodge that Killian and Henry have somehow located in a far-flung corner of the castle grounds, deserted and dusty from long disuse, Emma wakes from a light doze, still uneasy enough not to sleep deeply, despite her wear and strain. Sitting up stiffly, her eyes search the room, seeking her guardian knight, even as his name escapes her lips worriedly. “Killian?” she asks, a soft, plaintive note in the single whispered word.

He stands quickly from where his lithe form had been curled up on a settee near the window keeping watch, himself bathed in dark shadows and moon glow as he steals across the room to sit on the edge of the bed at her side. “I’m here, Love. Are you in pain? Regina is just outside, I can summon her…”

Emma merely shakes her head, reaching her hand out from under the layers of warm blankets she remembers him tucking around her a couple hours before. Looking up into his fathomless blue, blue eyes, she closes her fingers around his hook, hanging on for dear life. “No, it’s not that,” she assures him, gazing up into his face, drinking in every perfect, adoring feature as he stares back at her. “I just wanted to make sure that you didn’t disappear, that you were still with me…” She trails off, looking sheepish but also honest. They might be more than she would usually say, but she cannot make herself take the words back.

He traces his hand across her forehead soothingly, then lets his fingers tangle gently in her hair, pulling her up to press the softest of kisses to her lips. “Don’t worry, Darling,” he murmurs, his caress easing her pounding heart. “It took me centuries to find you. I won’t be letting go of my saving grace now. We will put an end to this darkness and treachery. Our love story is only beginning.”

And with those words Emma is able to fall back into a healing, dreamless sleep.

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @jennjenn615 @searchingwardrobes @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @spartanguard @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl  @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @therooksshiningknight @cosette141 @sotangledupinit @bdevereaux @stahlop @kday426 @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious​ @killian-whump​  @artistic-writer @cocohook38 @motherkatereloyshipper @thislassishooked @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @xsajx @justanother-unluckysoul​ @drowned-dreamer​ @anmylica​ @iverna​ @kazoosandfannypacks @booksteaandtoomuchtv @scientificapricot @tomeandflickcorner @lfh1226-linda

#self promo sunday #ouat canon divergent one shot #cs post-5x03 one shot ff #got my angel now #cs hurt comfort #emma whump aftermath

[moonjxsung]

omg everyone’s ex story have got me with my jaw DROPPED (!!!)

but lol, if y’all don’t mind i gotta trash talk my ex too bc he makes me laugh lol. SO 👏 my entire life i had mostly been interested in girls (i’m afab) but i had this guy best friend since high school that was crushing on me hardcore the entire time and i knew, but i was just never interested in guys so i just kinda looked the other way lmao. but anyway, i loved him so much and he was the only person i had ever opened up to completely. like every traumatic thing that had ever happened to me? he 100% knew about it.

so anyway, fast forward to college and we start spending a lot more time together and i was frequently stealing his bed at the dorms because my roommate wasn’t a good person and at some point i realized that i might also be having feelings for him too and i was very confused because again, i mostly liked girls and only ever made an effort with girls. but hey whatever, i tried to play it cool but one night we took shrooms together and we ended up having some VERY emotionally invested sex lmao

THEN we started dating after that and i shit you not, we only lasted a MONTH. the thing was that we had a friend in common who lived like three houses away from campus and we often visited her there and she hosted a lot of parties. one day i couldn’t reach him at all, so i contacted his roommate and he said that they were tripping together alone at her house and i was like ??? excuse me??? so i basically flew over there and they were making out on her couch

when i tell you i was LIVID. ohh i was pissed.

i then found out that out of the four weeks we dated, they’d been a thing for three 🙃

this asshole, who had been my best friend since high school, to whom i’d shared e v e r y t h i n g about me to, who’d been chasing me since the beginning and was still chasing me in college started cheating with our friend the moment he pulled me lmfao and made me look SO stupid every time we visited her at her place because ALSO EVERYONE knew except for me 🙃🙃🙃

-🪲

HUH????? HELLO?????????? DID I READ THIS CORRECTLY 😧😧😧😧 no fr what IS IT with men who are so persistent at chasing after you… AND THEN THEY FUCKING CHEAT ON YOU….. like colossal waste of everyone’s time and makes you feel so fucking stupid 😭 4 weeks is crazy and 3 weeks of those being with a whole other person is crazier 😭😭😭😭 might be a stupid question but do you guys still talk at all?? I feel like I’d have to cut him off for the rest of my life I deadass could not deal with that knowledge 🤕 I tried breaking up with my ex the first time he started playing games and he would not stop texting me in the middle of the night and calling to apologize and begging me to stay and he was so drunk when I answered so I felt bad and took him back and he literally started seeking out other girls like a week later and then cheated on me maybe 3 months after that. Fucking waste of my time scum garbage human fr I was going insane trying to piece together who he was cheating on me with and everyone called me crazy and I was right about every single thing in the end. I needed so much therapy I dyed my hair red my eating disorder got so bad I fr was never the same and I can’t bring myself to date again 😭 I’m so sorry that happened to you anon you deserve so so so much better and I hope you never get your time wasted like that again ☹️🫶 I love you and I’m always here if you need to vent !! 🩷🫶

#🪲 anon #ask

[nirvanai]

Though the secret ending implies Tokiko was right all along.

oh i do have some thoughts about this! rotates diverge route in my brain. this is just personal opinion and a lot of just. interpretation and looking at things in a meta-narrative sense, so feel free to disagree entirely lmao, but! anyways.

(also im so sorry anon this got really long and rambly sldkfhgsdg i did not mean for this to happen)

for me at least, the nil ending stuff doesn’t really end as a “she was actually right!” sort of thing, but rather, it feels like more of a direct challenge to the player and their expectation of what a narrative “should” give and what a secret ending “should” be. the ending itself breaks the 4th wall directly, it gives the choice of whether or not it happens directly to the player- it even relies on (from what i understand) a random number, so you can’t cheat it. You need to play the game to see your own personal nil number.

The game is presenting you with a ‘final twist’- this world is a game, something that you as a player have known all along. It is a fictional world, Tokiko is right- they just dropped the pretense. for a very brief moment, Ryuki sees the ‘truth’ of the world, and Tokiko then gives you as the player an option: you can tell him everything, change the course of history to try to reach a “better ending”, or you can let him forget and let events play out the same as they did before. 

When I play through the diverge route content, it gives off a very strong feeling of things feeling... off. It rings a bit hollow, almost like a pyrrhic victory- it should be a better world, Uru was stopped in time, Komeji is alive, Amame is free, none of the explosion end stuff happened. And yet, it feels like there’s still a heavy cost to it, to Ryuki’s own psyche. The awareness that we granted him weighs him down- he’s disconnected from the people around him, he got promoted but barely leaves his office anymore, even Tama is more blunt about not believing him about this ‘other timeline’. 

This world should feel better, but something has been lost- not just for Ryuki, but the player as well. All of the bonds that were forged, the emotions we just went through in the story... all of them were washed away by our doing.

Now, I’m not saying this to claim “oh we as the players are villains! we’re doing a bad thing and helping tokiko win!”, because I honestly do not believe that either. I don’t think that’s the point of the ending- its not making any sort of accusation at the player, but rather, it’s asking us why we may feel the way we do about it. If it feels hollow to some, why does it feel hollow? Why does it seem to linger?

When playing games, its natural to want to find all the secrets- especially in a mystery game such as this. The ‘Frayer” question is presented extremely early on in the story, and it may linger in a player’s mind. It’s a secret, so of course you want to figure out what it means. Seeking that sort of information is an understandable, and likely intended response, especially considering this is a literal murder mystery game. Almost every LP i’ve seen has people stop and try to guess at numbers for a while before moving on, and hell, I did that myself!

So when the game gives you the nil number at the end, and asks you what you want to do with it, its just the obvious thing to do. You want more answers, you want more time with this game, you want to uncover every mystery and secret that you can. The achievements in-game help with this a bit on a meta level, too- you know there’s secrets to find, so go find them!

Objectively, in the true end timeline, people suffered far more. People died, Amame is in jail, everything that happened in the explosion end- but for all of the suffering and pain, it wasn’t a world without meaning. Ryuki and the Mizukis were both still fighting in their own ways for the truth, to solve things- perhaps the past couldn’t be changed, and that better world may not exist to them, but their world still has meaning. Things may still be bittersweet, its not a perfect happy ending- but those are rare in life. Everyone is still finding their own way forward as best they can, and making the most of the life they’re living. No matter how you’ve struggled, there is still value in that life, and finding that value is something so very important. 

(Please note I’m not saying that people should suffer in life, or that you need to suffer for your life to have meaning- rather, I just want to say that a life where you have suffered is not meaningless. Experiencing loss and hardship is tragic, and often times traumatic, but your life still has meaning and you are not defined by the hardships you’ve experienced. There is always the chance that you will find a way to make things better tomorrow, that you will find the strength to start picking yourself up if you need to, and that is important and extremely meaningful.)

In the diverge route, everything is better, but the emotional connection with the player is gone. You’ve found what you were looking for, you’ve found that ‘happier ending’, and now the game is asking you what that should mean to you. What do you consider important from the narrative? What makes a story satisfying to you? What parts of this were drawing you in, investing you? We’ve removed the facade, this world is just a game- but it was a game that meant something to you, it got you invested, made you care, and it was satisfying as a result. It doesn’t matter that it was a game- we go along with it because we care, because we want to see what happens to these characters we like, and because seeing them struggle and fight and ultimately claim that ending song they so very deserved is a reward of its own.

So to me, the nil number is essentially asking you to think about your own personal relationships to media. What is it about the ending of a story that matters to you? Is a “perfect ending” all that matters for you to be happy, or are you actually looking for something else? It’s not intended to be a happy ending, despite it being a better one- it’s nil. A process has occurred, and something has changed, yet you have no more or less than you did before.

Apologies again for rambling on here lmao I’m sure you probably did not intend for that. And again, this is just my personal interpretations of the ending- I’m sure other people will have their own too, and that’s part of the fun to me! It’s very ripe for analysis and discussion, I don’t want to present my views as the only “correct” way to look at things, I’m just giving my case here as best I can in hopes some people may enjoy reading my thoughts on the matter.

The diverge route stuff is fascinating to me because its challenging, it lingers, it makes me think about it and want more in a way that I know I’ll be better off never getting it. Expanding on the ending in the game would honestly feel counterproductive- it works so well to me because it feels hollow. We have frayed at the edges, and now we get to see what we’ve done. (not to say i won’t read fic tho bc there’s some cool fic out there already on the topic. hell yeah.)

So, yeah! I hope that made at least a little bit of sense to read through, thanks for reading if you did, and I hope that even if you don’t agree it was still a fun thing to look over lmao. 

#aini #aini spoilers #nirvana initiative #nirvana initiative spoilers #kuruto ryuki #tokiko shigure #nirvanai #nirvanai spoilers #replies #anon #adhd brain truly do go brrrr sometimes #i like just. thinking abt uchikoshi's games!! the themes n questions are fun!! #media that makes you think about your relationship to the medium is fun!! #it makes me happy and i love it so much #i love that aini does all of this #and that it's given me questions and feelings that are mine to sort through #and i LOVE thinking abt it for what it means for ryuki too #altho i dont focus too much on that in this post bc its more looking at it from a meta perspective

[lootkey]

Okay first listen through of TTPD standard edition thoughts:

This is very sonically cohesive I think? I know some people were irritated she didn’t go in a new sound but honestly this album isn’t about the sound. It’s about the lyrics. Most of her albums find a balance of production and lyrics but I truly think that for this record more than any other the lyrics are supposed to shine. I really like it I think. We will see after a few more listens but there’s some high points and there’s some lows (tattooed golden retriever I’m looking you 🥴)

Fave 3:

Florida!!!

Down Bad

The Alchemy

Best 3:

But Daddy I Love Him

So Long, London

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived

Fortnight

Functioning alcoholic?? Ma’am?? Im confused a little by the lyrics and the perspective here. Also, why are you’re so murderous Taylor?? It sounds nice though! Love Posty’s vocals in the background. This song is definitely going to be stuck in my head at random times. This would have been huge on Tumblr during 2014-2015. 7/10? I think this may be a grower for me.

The Tortured Poets Department

Okay drums! “Who uses a typewriter anyway” get his pretentious ass Taylor. Personally not loving that slip into a falsetto in “hold me” but I digress. The second verse (?) where the Puth and gold retriever line is? 🤨 “we’re crazy” a self aware queen… this is not my favorite? It’s not bad but I don’t think I will actively seek it out. 6/10

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys

I really like this heavy dark synth in the background. I fear this is about J*e and RIP buddy. She’s the only person who could get away with “litany of reasons” in a song. Queen of Sandcastles?!?! The bridge is ruining me, girl was going through it. 8/10, I think.

Down Bad

I fear this one may let me down because I loved that stupid AI snippet that went viral on TikTok lmao. I wasn’t sure about the first verse but HOLY SHIT THIS CHORUS. “Fuck it” Ms. Swift I am scandalized (no I’m not you go queen). The gaylors are going to run wild with the “I lost my twin” bit 🙄. Love this one!! 9/10

So Long, London

Admittedly I hear a leak snippet of this one beforehand but I do love the production of this one. The intro is a bit jarring at first but it goes with the rest of the song well! Her voice sounds so fucking good here. The lyrics are ripping me apart. “All that youth for free” ouch ouch ouch ouch. This somehow sadder than Tolerate It???? Like they tried to soften the blow with the production but oh my god. 10/10

But Daddy, I Love Him

I’ve heard whisperings that there’s shade to the “SpeakUpNow” travesty that happened last May? Get them parasocial weirdos girl. Oh god yeah this is definitely in relation to Taylor Swift™️ and how people forget she’s an actual human fucking being. Honestly I love this and some of it reminds me of Fearless kind of?? But also girl is a little delulu here. Love the BRIDGE YES YES YES. big dictionary girl here. I feel like the last verse is more towards TK than matty but I could be wrong?? This is not a song I will reach for but it is really so so good. 9/10

Fresh Out the Slammer

The western twangy start? Interesting. Love her delivery and cadence here. Matty really wasn’t the only consistent guy on the roster huh? Good for you girl. Another song a little delulu but I forgive her. Another one I think the Gaylors are going to take and run with 🙄 this may be the first “filler” so far but it’s not really 7/10

Florida!!!

I’m so excited for this one personally. OH MY GOD THE CEREMONIALS INFLUENCE. FLORENCE!!!! OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD. Another hint at murder??? Oh she was PISSED. This song is going to make me get a speeding ticket. The BRIDGE!!!!!!!!!! The feeling of restlessness when you feel stuck I life and up and running to Florida, she’s just like me fr. 10/10 immaculate

Guilty as Sin?

Blue Nile? Oh this is about Matty. Loving the instrumental. This is such a “windows down cruising on the highway” song. The vibes are so good. Oh girl… you want him so bad. I love this one, it reminds me of something but I can’t put my finger on it. Also the religious references in this one? Wow. THE FINAL CHORUS?? Jack Antonoff they could never make me hate you. 9/10

Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me

This is haunting. The lyrics are so dark but her delivery is almost smug? Excellent. “Whos afraid of little old me? You should be??” Again, a self aware queen. Also for some reason I’m getting Control by Halsey vibes?? She’s never beating the witchcraft allegations, sorry. She’s slowly loosing her mind over the course of this song and oh my god. “Sue you”????? Oh girl get them. This is one where I probably won’t reach for it but it is such a good good song holy fuck 9/10. Self written and self produced too?

I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)

I don’t know why people thought this is about Matty, this to me is so clearly about Joe I think. The outlaw imagery paired with the production is so interesting. The lyric change at the end? Love it. Overall this isn’t my fave? 6/10

Loml

Oh this one is going to hurt me isn’t it. It’s so clear that she really does value marriage and wanted that with her past partners, which makes Lavender Haze so heartbreaking in retrospect. The chorus is going to make me sob so thank you Taylor. Wait wait wait, “Mr. Steal Your Girl” ma’am???? Be serious. Well this is about Joe lol. I’m so glad she seems happier now because this was written from a place of deep hurt. 8/10

I Can Do It With A Broken Heart

Holy fucking vibe change from the last song lol. The haters are going to hate this one but it is the classic ironic song that people will love to shit on without using any critical thinking skills. Thematically this is actually kind of genius because the lyrics are depressing and the rhyme is kind of elementary but slapping this beat behind it paints this picture of you know a pop star who has to go out and preform even though everything is falling apart. This stripped down would be devastating. 8/10

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived

The inhaled breath to start oh my god we’re crying again. She’s implying he’s poor isn’t she? Oh my god. I do think this one is about Joe again? Stabbed me with my push pins??? Oh girl. Sank in stoned oblivion?? See I don’t think she’d make that comment about an addict who’s clean now but she’s given us other songs where it alludes to the fact that Joe smokes (YOYOK, paper rings, etc). She’s so angry here and it makes me so sad for her because I feel like it’s a feeling most women understand. This hurts so so so bad. 10/10.

The Alchemy

Yes lower register!! Ohhh this is a love song 🥹 also is this about TK? The team references?? I love this one. Another that I can see with windows down, cruising on a highway. Okay wait maybe Matty? That heroin line sounds like a joke he would make lol but everything else is so TK coded so idk. This scratches my brain in such a nice. 9/10

Clara Bow

This is definitely going to be in the same category of The Lucky One and Nothing New isn’t it? STEVIE NICKS SHOUTOUT OH MY GOD!!!! Oh this is bittersweet. Oh my god that last bit about TS with edge? How hard it must be to be this self aware and yet still have to sort of accept that fate. 8/10.

Okay that’s the end of the standard edition!!!

#taylor swift #the tortured poets department #pop music #first listen thoughts