#I love my parents but I cannot stand living this close to them

[justaplacetotalk]

I cannot believe my dad sometimes dude. God forbid I ask him for guidance on something relating to HIS business. I probably fucking fixed it wrong too. Can’t wait for that conversation.

[charnelhouse]

Thinking of ghost as a dad makes me think of red taking her toddler son shopping for Halloween decorations and seeing a skeleton and the sweet boy is pointing and bouncing up and down like “it’s dada!”

A/N: Ghost x F!Reader (Red Fox). Pure fluff. This ask made me curl up with joy.

She’s a little late. Only ten minutes and it could be anything: traffic, an additional errand, a parking lot shoot-out. Simon’s fingers twitch as his cell phone sits on the coffee table.

It’s only ten minutes.

Ten. Minutes.

He’d lost her in Ecuador for four fucking days, and she’d been fine. Well, relatively fine. Alive.

She can survive anything. He knows this. He feels this. But he cannot shake the belief that one day, his past will catch up to him and take her away. 

Don’t be a fuckhead, Simon. If it’s anyone’s past, it’s going to be mine. 

That makes me feel better, duchess. 

We’re sharing the burden, babe. Lucky for this kid, he’s got two spec ops, hot-ass parents. 

Yah really love a finger gun, don’t you? 

It’s called levity, dude. You’re too damn broody. 

“Don’t call her.”

Simon startles before side-eyeing Johnny, who is spread out on the far end of the couch. “I wasn’t gonna,” he growls defensively. 

“You’re staring at that phone like it’s a bomb.”

“She’s late.”

“She’s running errands with your enormous toddler. Yah know how hard it is to lift that kid? Try wrestling him into a car seat. Took me half an hour.”

Simon scowls. “Of course, I know. I do raise him.”

Johnny wiggles his eyebrows. “He takes after me.”

“Yeah, my enormous son is definitely your kid, tiny.”

“I’m six fuckin’ feet. Thank yah very much.”

“You’re still here?” 

Simon twists around to see Red standing in the doorway. She’s got their son on her hip and an orange plastic bag in her other hand. She leaves him breathless. Her skin dewy, her hair falling in her face. Stunning in a way that burns him. He still wants to shove her over a table and wreck her, but that desire is now weighted with something far more tender. She’s carried his baby.

He knew she’d be a good mother, but he didn’t expect her to excel at it so...perfectly. She can handle a tantrum and peel a man’s skin off.  She can silence him with a look.

“Simon said I could stay for dinner,” Johnny declares.

“I did not,” Simon refutes as he stands, rolling his shoulders. Their son’s tiny lips peel apart into a toothy grin, he claps his chubby hands together. 

“Dada,” he squeals as he opens his arms. 

Ghost smiles back, unable to blunt the joy that unfurls in his chest. Sometimes it’s all too much. 

“He got you something,” Red says as she places him on the floor. When she straightens, she presses her hand to her lower back. “Jesus - that kid is heavy. Remind me to stop having your babies.”

“Uhuh,” Ghost says dutifully. “Of course.”

She’d threatened to leave him a thousand times when she was giving birth. Their son’s head had not been easy to deliver. 

Red pulls something from her bag and hands it to their son, who waddles toward him. Simon crouches and sweeps him up in his arms. The boy squeals again delighted. 

“What have you got there?” he asks as he nuzzles his nose into the down of his son’s head, the soft velvet curls. He smells like Red’s perfume.

“Dada!” he giggles as he lifts a plastic skeleton. Soap barks with laughter. 

“He saw it in the store and lost it,” Red says as she walks toward them, placing a hand on the boy’s back. He shakes the skeleton before hugging it close. “Kept calling it dada. Got a lot of weird looks.” She cocks her head, her tongue darting over her lower lip. “I just wanted everyone to know that I’m getting it from a really hot skeleton.”

“Yah got a filthy head, Foxy.”

“You don’t even live here, Johnny.”

“Dada,” his son murmurs as he burrows his face into Simon’s throat. The skeleton is clutched against his chest, and he feels the boy relax, his damp, milky breath puffing against him as he nods off. 

Simon clears his throat, blinking a few times. There’s a raw snag of emotion in his throat that he can’t seem to swallow. Simon tries to pull the skeleton from the boy’s hands to look at it, but his son yanks it closer. 

“Typical,” Red remarks, her lips quirking in amusement. 

“What is?” Simon smirks because he already knows.

“Do you know how hard it is to shake you off when you’re asleep? It’s like being spooned by a bull slash octopus.”

“It’s true,” Johnny interjects in an empathetic tone. “Remember Siberia?”

“That was a life and death situation!” Simon snaps. “Sub-zero temperatures.”

Red’s eyes widen, her expression intrigued. “Give me the details, Johnny, and I’ll make you dinner.”

[hansensgirl]

summary. | Your step-bro has many fantasies he wants to act out. This is just one of them.

prompts. | Jake Jensen + step-brother + “C’mere. I can’t see you from all the way over there.” + thigh riding, requested by @jakeysangel.

pairing. | dark!step-brother!Jake Jensen x fem!reader.

warnings. | NON/DUBCON, stepcest, both are of legal age, pet names, thigh riding, handjob (?), jake comes in his pants, porn watching (mentioned), praise, dirty talk, delusion, smut, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!

author’s note. | this is a part of my Dark Concepts (2023) request form. thank you for taking part in this event! please enjoy and don’t forget to reblog. MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY! taglist: @hansensfics

You gulp thickly, your head spinning just a bit. 

You’ve always considered yourself a good girl to some extent. You’ve never done anything wrong. But this, indeed, will make you burn in hell.

You wear the lingerie your stepbrother bought you. It’s pink and frilly, tight on your body, and accentuates every curve. You feel pretty yet disgusting in it—impure, tainted. 

“Sugar? You done in there?” Jake calls out, and you jump at the sudden sound of his voice. 

Jake was friendly at first. He respected your apprehensions about having a new family, but living with him has been a nightmare since your parents moved away, and he’s been stuck at home after getting fired.

He doesn’t respect your privacy and takes what he says is ‘his,’ even though you’re his step-sister. 

“Y– Yeah!” you reply, voice hoarse. With shaking hands, you unlock the bathroom door and walk into his room, immediately spotting him on his bed. Jake sits with his legs spread and his dick hard underneath his shorts. 

“My God,” he marvels, grip loosening on his phone. He accidentally drops it, and when it lands with the screen facing upward, you can see a lewd video playing. It’s one of those pornos where the actress is either the step-sister or step-daughter, and she gets caught up in an embarrassing situation, leaving her vulnerable to her male counterpart. 

You hold back a gag as he scrambles to pick it up, turning the device off.

“Sorry, just couldn’t wait,” Jake sheepishly says, and you stand there awkwardly. His blue eyes drink in the sight of your body on display, almost as if he’s never seen it before—with or without your permission.  “C’mere. I can’t see you from all the way over there.”

You frown for a split second and hesitate. If you walk slowly, it’ll only prolong the inevitable. But if you walk quickly, you’ll seem eager—you can’t give up like that. And so you settle between the two, choosing an adequate pace.

When you get close enough, Jake pulls you onto his lap. In the first few months you knew him, the action was annoying but affectionate. You never thought much of it. But now, you hate it—even though the manhandling makes your pussy wet.

Your step-brother adjusts you so that you’re straddling one of his strong thighs, core pressed against the muscle. He furrows his brows, almost pensive, and lifts you up just a bit. His other hand grabs at the waistband of your panties, and with one harsh tug, they turn into shreds.

You gasp at the display of strength, reminded of how he can truly do anything to you. 

“Much better,” he mumbles, placing you back onto his leg. “Wha– What do you want me to do, Jakey?” you ask, faking a sweet tone. He loves it when you do that—loves it when you call him Jakey. It’s your way of making sure he’ll be nice to you.

“You don’t have to do anything, princess. I’ll do all the work,” he tells you, blushing just a bit. “Oh, thank you, Jakey. You’re the best.” You continue with the act and wonder if he can see through it. 

“I’m gonna make you fuck yourself on my thigh—it’s gonna be so hot,” Jake nearly groans as he says this. Despite his almost daily release, it’s as if he’s never been touched before. Or perhaps he has too many fantasies that he cannot wait to enact. You, on the other hand, are much less than eager. 

You nod your head, going with whatever he says. Your body listens before your mind does; sometimes, you hate yourself for it.

Jake grips your hips so tightly that it almost hurts. He begins to move you back and forth, gyrating your lower half on his leg. You hiss at the delicious friction, your achy clit getting precisely what it needs.

You look down and marvel at the dark stain on his pants, knowing fully well that your pussy is a sopping mess. 

“Shit, you’re perfect, baby,” he pants, and you let out moans that fill the near-silence in the room. “Touch my dick,” Jake demands, and you do as he says. You palm him through his trousers, stroking him slightly just to make him happy. He curses and picks up the pace on your hips.

“Oh, fuck,” you whimper, breath becoming shallow. You even begin to match his movements, growing enthusiastic as you near your climax. “Yeah, that’s it. Good girl. Such a good girl for her step-bro.”

Jake’s words burst your bubble entirely. 

“Tell me you love me, princess. How much do you love your step-bro, huh?” Jake questions, bouncing the leg you’re riding. Despite his words, your climax still hits you with impact. Your back arches, and your head tilts back, a loud moan leaving your mouth before it turns into a silent scream. The feeling is addictive.

He pinches your thigh when you don’t respond. “S– So much. I love my step-bro so much,” you force out, realizing that he’s been grinding his cock in your hand. 

Jake’s eyes squeeze shut, and he leans forward, almost hugging you. You ride out your orgasm and continue grinding your cunt on his leg until it’s too much to handle. Warmth blooms in your hand, Jake’s dick twitches underneath the fabric, and you nearly grimace.

“I love you too, step-sis,” he pants, and a pit forms in your stomach. 

[beanghostprincess]

Rayleigh and Buggy reunion, but Rayleigh is being over the top judgemental about everything, like idk if u are familiar with crazy ex girlfriend the TV show but Rayleigh shows up and acts exactly like Rebecca's mom does. Overcritical of his life choices and dismissive of what he perceives as excuses coming from Buggy, because he knows Buggy's true potential and is annoyed with Buggy not living up to it. He gives Crocodile a once over and goes "is that what you found to replace Shanks with" and moves on and Crocodile doesn't even have a moment to compute the way he was just insulted because Rayleigh has moved on to criticising Mihawk's cooking instead. Worst part is, this all comes from a genuine place of love and care, Rayleigh is legitimately worried sick about his baby clown son of 39 years, but he cannot express that worry without being extremely invasive about everything. Buggy isn't even responding, he just shoots ppl apologetic looks and rolls his eyes when Rayleigh isn't looking because of course he does this obviously Buggy is never good enough for him and Shanks had always been the favourite (you ask Shanks or any other Roger pirate and they will tell you that Buggy is Rayleigh's baby boy and absolute favourite with utmost confidence, too bad the emotional constipation runs in the crew). Dinner is awkward as fuck, because Rayleigh makes attempts at being easygoing but his motherhenning nature irt Buggy shines through, his conviction that Buggy would be happier with Shanks by his side is making him be overcritical of everyone in that dinner and he keeps discussing the good old days and subtly hinting at Buggy that there is still time for him to go back to Shanks....and Buggy looks close to frustrated tears (and everyone agrees, Crocodile has snapped 5 cigars in half with his teeth and Mihawk is 5 seconds away from banging his head on the table).

Just overbearing father Rayleigh being stifling and trying to overcompensate for his shit parenting choices during Buggy's childhood and Buggy having his daddy issues expanded upon (and Crocodile and Mihawk gaining insight to Buggy's entire deal)

"Idk if u are familiar with crazy ex girlfriend the TV sho-" My therapist literally told me to stop watching it so much because it was affecting my mental health. So. Yes. I know the show. It's one of my favorite shows EVER. Rebecca is just like me fr my beloved. All of them my beloveds. The songs my beloveds. Don't make me go into CEG x OP because I won't finish. And as you can see, I did not listen to my therapist.

Even though I've always seen Rayleigh as the one who understands Buggy the most (Roger and him love Shanks and Buggy equally but it is quite obvious they put more pressure on Shanks to be more like Roger and that only made things worse by making Buggy's inferiority complex exist) and the one who stands up more for him and comforts him when needed, it is true that he might be more judgemental and he'd be worried for Buggy. Like. Think about it. Roger died and the kids (their kids) ended up alone and going their own separate ways. For Rayleigh, finding out Shanks and Buggy aren't together is just?? So weird?? Because they've always been together. Birds of a feather (if somebody mentions the song 'Two Birds' I am punching them because I can't handle that song today please). And it's just... Well, surprising. 'But as long as they're okay' but they're obviously not okay!!! And it's not that Rayleigh is judging Buggy. In fact, I think he would do the same with Shanks. The second Rayleigh sees Shanks he's already saying he drinks too much (even for a pirate) and that he's been acting recklessly and "What the fuck are you doing without Buggy? Is this because of Buggy?" / "I do not drink because of him. It's- It's not about him. He left-" / "HE LEFT AND YOU DIDN'T DO ANYTHING?????" / "I hate it when you get like this" / "Like what?" / "Like you want to still do something about my life. I'm an adult, thank you very much-" / "No, you're not if you keep acting this way". And I personally think Rayleigh would just be worried for the both of them and also feel extremely guilty because he wasn't there to fix things when they fought, the way he always did. "The second I left you alone you two start a fight that lasts two decades?" and he would say this to both of them and they would hate it.

But yeah, going back to Buggy I think he'd be worried because. Well. Have you seen Crocodile and Mihawk? I mean. They're kind of on good terms with Buggy now (more or... More or less. Kind of. They're not equals but they're some sort of weird thing and they respect and care for each other. More or less. It's- It's complicated. Don't ask) but they're still them. And Rayleigh can't help but see the situation and be like "I'm proud you made a name of yourself, kid, but you don't have to do this if you don't want to" (meaning: You could go back to Shanks any time you wanted) and Buggy takes it as an "You could go back to Shanks any time you wanted because you'd be safer with him" instead of the real "You could go back to Shanks any time you wanted because you'd be happier with him and this war of pride and hearts you have going on is dumb". And he understands Buggy needs to be away from Shanks to grow, but it's just so, so sad to see them like this when they used to love each other so damn much.

Also, I think Buggy would be going through the worst moment of his life and Crocodile and Mihawk would be so done for different reasons. First, they don't give a fuck about all of this drama. And second, they are starting to see Buggy more like a person and understand why he is the way he is, and the things Rayleigh is saying are bothering them a lot. They've been trying to make the clown move on from his past so he's useful for once (because when he believes in himself he's actually not a burden and more interesting) and now this guy (that they respect because it's Silvers Fucking Rayleigh) comes and tries to change things around here? Nope. Not happening.

So basically, what you're trying to tell me is that Rayleigh regrets raising the boys that way and now he's overcompensating and it's overwhelming for everyone, right? I- I love it. Great plot. 10/10. In character. Perfect. It makes me go insane. I love their daddy issues.

(Also, can we talk about how "This Was a Shit Show" and "What'll it be" are extremely Buggy songs??? Because- Because now I want to-)

[sideeve]

SELF CONTROL ⭑ MILES MORALES

⭑ maybe love isn’t the only thing that can keep someone tied to you .

miles morales x f!reader

part 1 — part 2

⭑ miles’ pov , cheating , normal spider-man violence , the spot , miles attempting to win reader back , major spoilers for atsv , arguing

miles’ pov

every thing was stressing him out. fighting with spot wasn’t helping either. while basically punching himself, he was trying to text his parents that he would be a little late.

“can we finish this later? i have a meeting with my parents!” miles yells, trying to web the villain to the wall.

“no! we cannot! i have to kill the thing that-wait! we’re not finished here!” spot attempts to wiggle out of the webs keeping him stuck.

“i’ll catch you later.”

with the spot “done”, miles finally had a moment to breathe. he got a message from you.

mrs. morales 💓 : miles. where r u? ur parents keep asking me and idk what to say😭

mr. morales 🕷️ : just tell them i’ll be there in a moment. had to pick up the cakes :)

he huffs.

everyone needed him at the exact same time. from juggling the responsibility as spider-man and being a boyfriend and son, school. he couldn’t do it all.

his hand slide down his face. “if only gwen were here right now. she’d know what to do.” he looks down at the boxes of cake in his hands before making his way to his apartment.

grounded. for two months. just because he couldn’t tell his parents that he’s spider-man. rage filled in his body. no one understood him. no one. but her.

fuck! he shouldn’t be thinking about her. he has a girlfriend! one that lives him to death too.

but him and gwen are just friends…right?

that thought leads him here. an inch of space left between him and gwen. he would make a mistake tonight that he would gravely regret.

“¡miles! ponte aquí ahora mismo.”

his mouth pulls him out of his trance he gasps out of shock. what the hell was he doing? why is he kissing someone else? where is his girlfriend? what is he going to do?

his eyes looked blown out. thoughts clouded his head, making him unresponsive. “i’m not going to call for you again.” the party fell silent, looking at miles in disbelief.

he didn’t even say a word to gwen nor his mom. he just ran as fast as he could (while also swinging) to you.

out of breath, he knocked on your door.

"hey babe. my mom wanted me to check on you. she said you left early." he lied. he just wanted to know if you knew what he did. "we're done. i can't be with a cheater."

fuck!

"baby. you don't understand-" "go!" you slammed the door in his face. he heard you sobbing behind the door. his heart broke.

what did he do?

he walked home like a kicked puppy. he lost the only one he loved. once he opened his house door, his parents stood in front of him, arms crossed and disappointed. "mama, i-" "no, go to your room. and make it 4 months."

he wasn't even upset, he understood why he was in this situation. he had hurt you. and there was no way to take it back.

cut to when miles meets miguel

"every spider person has lost someone close to them. that is what makes us who we are." miguel stands before miles, making him look small. the holograms of spidermen and women crouching over their loved one's dead bodies. then there was him. crouching over you.

"my canon event is my girlfriend dying?" "ex-girlfriend. and yes. i'm sorry miles. but this can't be changed." every ounce of rage when to his fists. "no! it can't be her! i gotta save her."

“miles. you know we can’t let you do that.” a disk slides under him, creating a force field around him.

“miguel! that’s enough!” the yelling from the spider society was overwhelming him. ontop of the fact that you are going to die.

in his arms.

[zegrasdrysdale]

[ impossible ] t. seguin

day eleven of malia’s christmas fic marathon

paring : Tyler Seguin x fem!reader

summary : (Y/N) is surprised when ex boyfriend Tyler knocks on the door of her parents’ house on Christmas Day

warning(s) : angsty, but nothing besides that

author’s note : last two fics of the christmas marathon. let’s do this

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She has never been happier to be home in Toronto. (Y/N) loves living in Dallas, but the last few weeks haven’t been the best. Being surrounded by family should help her out of the post-breakup funk she’s been in recently.

Even now as she's sitting in the living room with her family in her Christmas pajamas and opening their gifts, she misses Tyler. She misses her old life with Tyler, but she couldn't do it anymore. She couldn't keep doing the distance.

He was away more often than he was home. When he was home, he went out with his teammates after games or on off days. She'd often go weeks without seeing him because he'd stay over at a teammate's house.

She wasn't equal with hockey anymore. Not like she used to be. She got tired of it.

She never gave him an ultimatum because she could never make him choose between her and hockey. (Y/N) made her feelings known and Tyler didn't seem to care, so she has been living with her best friend in Dallas and came home for Christmas a week ago. She stopped answering Tyler's texts and calls so she hasn't even talked to him in nearly two months.

Her family doesn't notice that something's wrong. (Y/N) does her best to keep a smile on her face and interacts with her nieces and nephews as they open their gifts. No one has asked where Tyler is and she is very much grateful for that.

As (Y/N) opens a gift from her mom, there's a knock on the door. Her mom goes to answer it as she opens the box that contains a Dallas Stars customized jersey that has her last name above the 91. "Tyler!" her mother shouts from the front door. "It's so nice of you to join us. We didn't think you'd be joining us."

Her head snaps toward the door so quickly that she thought for a split second that she gave herself whiplash. She's very surprised to see her ex standing at the front door of her parents' house in Toronto.

"I needed to go see my parents before coming over," Tyler says as he looks right at (Y/N). "Sorry I'm late. I forgot how insane Toronto traffic can be."

Words cannot express how angry and annoyed she is that he is at the door. She thought that he would've gotten the message that she was done when she didn't talk to him for two months.

Apparently not because there he stands in a Stars hoodie and plaid pajama pants with a bag full of gifts at the front door.

She gets up off the floor and pushes Tyler out the door without a word to anyone. It closes behind her, leaving the two of them alone in the cold Toronto air. Snow is on the ground and she's outside in a tank top, fuzzy pajama pants, and slippers. (Y/N) can't even feel the cold because of the fact that she is fuming.

"You have no right showing up," she spits at him. "We haven't spoken in two months and you show up at my parents' house."

Tyler blinks and says, "Last time I checked, you're the one that stopped talking to me. I don't remember being told that I wasn't allowed to come to Christmas because you stopped answering my texts and calls."

"We're done, Tyler," she tells him. "In case that wasn't clear."

"You're done," he retorts. "I'm not. I don't understand why you just up and left."

"I told you why!" (Y/N) practically shouts. "You're gone for weeks at a time, Tyler. The only time I get to see you is when we're separated by a thick piece of glass while I'm sitting in the stands and you're on the ice. You used to spend off days with me, you used to come home to me and we'd watch a movie on the couch or in bed. Then you decided to go out after every game or go out on off days."

He runs a hand through his hair and says, "I am a leader, (Y/N). I was never around my team. I needed to show them that I am still a leader and I couldn't do that when I was cooped up at home with you. You knew what you were getting into when we started dating and all of a sudden, you can't handle it anymore?"

Anger courses through her veins. Her blood is boiling to the point where the snow might melt around her. "No," she retorts. "I can't do it anymore. You used to make time for me and now you're a ghost. I was living in a shell of our past life together while you seemed to be moving on. I was alone in that apartment. It was like I didn't have a boyfriend anymore. I didn't think it would be that big of a deal if I left."

A look of hurt flashes on Tyler's face. "Of course it would be a big deal if you left," he softly says. "I love you. I miss you."

She shakes her head and does everything she can to keep the tears from spilling over to her cheeks. "You didn't listen," she tells him. "I told you how I felt and you still went out that night after the game. I made the decision to leave because I knew that if you went out after I told you how I felt, you'd keep going out. I couldn't do it anymore."

Tyler frowns and says, "I went out to tell the guys that I wasn't going to be going out as much with them after games and on off days. That is the only reason I went out. I was gone for thirty minutes. When I came back to the apartment and you were gone, I realized that I didn't tell you that I'd be right back."

"I- you-" she cuts herself off when she realizes that if she had just stayed around for an hour, he would've been back. "Why didn't you just text that to me?"

"I thought that you'd be back," he admits. His eyes fall to the ground. "I didn't think you'd ignore me for two months. I didn't think it would take you a half hour to pack a bag and leave. I should've told you that I'd be right back."

A tear slips down Tyler's cheek. Her own tears begin to fall when she sees Tyler's tears. "Tyler, I'm so sor-"

"It's not your fault," he interrupts her. "Don't you dare apologize. We wouldn't even be in this situation if I had just realized how lonely you were or if I had just told you that I would be right back. I'm sorry. I know I probably shouldn't have come up here to try and fix things but I couldn't let you spend Christmas thinking you did something wrong when you didn't."

She takes a few steps forward and wraps her arms around his torso. Tyler's free arm wraps around her shoulders as she buries her face in his chest.

They've both done a lot wrong the past few months, but all they can do now is acknowledge what they've done wrong and move past it.

Hopefully Tyler's season can recover too because despite not being together, (Y/N) did keep an eye on his stats. He really began to fall apart a week after she left the apartment and has never been able to get it together.

That's all on her.

"Sorry your season has gone to shit," she sniffles as she looks up at him. "You can blame that on me."

Tyler shakes his head and cups her jaw with his free hand. "I'll never blame how good or bad a season is going on you," he tells her. "That will never be on you.'

A gust of wind blows and she shivers. Tyler wraps his arm back around her shoulders and holds her close to him. "I'll blame myself enough for both of us," she says. "Can we go inside?"

"As long as you're not done," Tyler replies. "I came up here to fight for us and I won't go inside unless you tell me that we can go back to how things were, minus my going out all the time."

(Y/N) looks up at him and nods. "I'm not done," she practically whispers. "Even when I said I was done, I don't think I actually was. You're impossible to move on from, Tyler Seguin."

He smiles and leans down to press a soft kiss to her lips. He hums and pulls back. "God, (Y/N)," he says. "Your lips are so cold. Let's go."

She lets out a light laugh and walks into the house with Tyler in tow.

Everyone looks at the two of them as Tyler pulls off his hoodie and pulls it over (Y/N)'s head since they were outside for fifteen minutes talking in freezing temperatures. "Everything okay?" her mom asks. "You guys were outside for a while. I thought I heard yelling."

"Everything's okay," she assures everyone in the living room. She goes back to sitting on the ground and Tyler sits next to her. He takes her hands in his so they warm up. She leans into him and rests her head on his shoulder. "We're okay."

That was more for Tyler than anything. He kisses the top of her head before he starts to hand out the gifts that he brought with him for (Y/N)'s parents and siblings. She watches them open their presents with a smile on her face.

Then Tyler holds a little present in front of (Y/N). She slowly takes it and looks up at him. "What is this?" she asks.

"Now that would ruin the surprise," Tyler teases. "Open it and find out. I know technically we weren't together when I bought this but I knew I wanted to buy it for you."

She unwraps it and opens the little black box. There's a silver ring that sits inside with a 91 in little diamonds on it. Her jaw drops and she looks up at her boyfriend. "You really went all out even though we weren't together," she gasps.

Tyler grabs it out of the box and takes her right hand. He slides the ring on the ring finger. "Wanted to make sure that everyone knows who your boyfriend was when we got back together," he replies. She admires the ring on her finger and Tyler kisses the ring.

(Y/N) smiles and leans against him to watch the last few presents get opened.

It finally feels like Christmas now that Tyler is here. It didn't feel like it until he got here because they have spent the last three Christmases together.

Despite being angry that he showed up, she's very happy he's here now.

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[jaeyunluvr]

LET ME IN (p.js)

warnings smoking, mentions of alcohol, death, parent problems, cursing

for my darling baby and my bsf nessa @heeslomll happy happiest birthday sweetheart i love you so damn much <3 pls forgive me this is not proofread at all

you sighed deeply as you brought a newly made blunt to your mouth, your legs dangled from the edge of the thick wall, that once happened to be the compound of somebody's humble abode.

it was a ruin, but it was once a happy home, or maybe it looked like a happy home. memories on the broken walls, just as broken as you were.

you exhale the smoke as it harshly brushes past the lining of your throat, making you scrunch up your nose. you'd never get used to the sting it gave you despite smoking for years.

you gazed at the cityscape in front of you which sparkled with bright lights and yet it looked weird. like it had no destination and it's shining for no one specifically.

endless thoughts clouding your head, you inhale on your blunt once again, closing your eyes getting lost in the high.

you don't notice the sound of the footsteps that approach you until you feel a presence next to you. a pair of legs drop next to you, dangling in the air, a pair of leather boots attached to them.

you turn to see a familiar face that looks up at you with disappointment. you couldn't take in the way your best friend, the only person you ever had by your side, look at you that way.

but what can you do? this was your only outlet. endless cigarettes and blunts, spoilt lungs, cans of beer and bottles of various types of alcohol.

after you quit college, smoke was your life. from your bike to your blunts. somehow you related your life to it. foul scent but invisible.

maybe you would've lived better if your mother didn't leave you with your dad. maybe you would've lived better if she nurtured and cared for you even a bit as a child. maybe you would've lived better if your dad didn't kill himself when he finally had the burden of debts get heavy on him.

jay looks at you, with a softer gaze this time. you release the puff of smoke just in front of his face but not directly at him. he sways his hand in front of his to diffuse away the gas and frowns his eyebrows as you giggled.

he harshly grabs the blunt from your hand and drops it down the high wall.

"yn fucking quit it. you're ruining yourself" he spat as his voice was laced with irritation and disgust but his eyes, they showed concern.

you rolled your eyes and let out a sigh. "next time, don't fucking snatch my blunt like that." you deadpanned proceeding to grab a cigarette from your pocket. you stand up and walk away from him, and just when you're about to light it, jay once again slaps your hand causing it to fall to the ground. he grabs the pack of cigarettes from your hand and stashes it into his pocket.

"can you fucking stop?" you speak as tears start to brim your eyes.

"yn no I cannot. I can't just stay quiet and let you ruin yourself over something that you don't have control of. this was not how you were yn. please get back."

"something I don't have control of? then why the fuck am I suffering the consequences? if you want me to stop then maybe fucking take my pain away, jay."

you say as your voice quivers, a huge lump forming at your throat. your mind runs through a million memories of everything worse and beyond.

jay walks towards you, taking your hands in his.

"yn, I don't think I can take your pain away but I can help you through it. just give me one chance please?"

you stay quiet. you knew jay loved you and it was not just as his best friend. he had confessed to you multiple times but you've rejected him every single time because what would he live like when he's constantly tied to you. you were just a havoc in every way and you would never want to hog his life with your problems.

you were like poison and he was like the pure milk. and why was he waiting to be tainted with your dark life?

you feel your heart getting heavy as you sense multiple emotions that wash over you. the sorrow you kept experiencing, the helplessness you were at, the utter love jay had for you and the biggest one yet, the guilt of not being able to be your best version for him.

your breaths get heavier and you feel your throat getting clogged with a lump, your fingers curl into a fist as you choke out a sob, tears slipping down the brim of your eyes, as they travel down your dusted cheeks.

jay calls out to you softly and gently wraps his arms around your shoulders as if you were something very fragile.

his heart physically aches as he sees you in such a bad state. the love of his life, the girl he wanted to protect, the girl who always pretended to be strong and withheld the worst nightmares all by herself.

you start sobbing at the comfort of his embrace, your chest filled with inexplainable heaviness. jay pats your head in a comforting manner, as your tears damp his shirt. he pulls apart while holding your face between his palms.

oh god he couldn't bear to see you like that. you couldn't read his expression and maybe it was because of this dim moonlight, but what you couldn't deny was the love he had for you. it was radiating off of him.

jay wipes your tears with his thumbs and leans down, pressing a feathery kiss to your right eyelid followed by your left and you swore to god you melted.

he then leans further down capturing your lips with his into the sweetest kiss ever. he didn't care if you just smoked, he didn't care if your lips were salty because of the tears. he just had to kiss your pain away, atleast for a moment, and he did.

that one moment, your whole world paused. your best friend, also the best man on the planet, kissed you. not only that but that moment managed to make you forget your entire sorrow. it was just him and you. it felt like nothing else mattered.

he breaks the kiss softly and whispers, "yn I fucking love you, you have no idea. please just please let me take care of you. please lean onto me, please rant to me, please cry to me. I can't take it when you're like this. I want my yn back, I want you to have yourself back. I'll help you through it and I promise to not turn my back on you."

your sigh shivered through the night air and your hands were starting to tremble slightly.

"I will let you in jay, thank you so much."

perm taglist :: @pockettwinzz @alvojake @miss-conjayniality @seunghancore <3

[tare-anime]

This lovely art from @aerequets really aligned with one of my HCs about how Yor's past will be revealed to us:

The three of them unexpectedly meet at one mission. Maybe Twilight was trying to find information, Yor was doing her mission, and Yuri was suspecting something fishy at the SSS higher ups. Or something like that

After the first commotion, which somehow resolved quickly because the three of them coorperate, Yuri aim his gun towards Twilight, full with hatred because this man bertrayed his sister. Twilight was full with guilt. And Yor felt her world crumble because the two most important men in her world were not what she think they were.

Nevertheless, Yor tried to separate them. And yet both men were so stubborn.

They were so focused into their fight that they didn't realized reinforcement came, until Yor step up in front of them and was severely injured protecting them.

Both men finally direct their anger towards the reinforcement whose goals was to eliminate any eye witness.

Fierce battle ensues, but of course our heroes managed to survive (barely, in Yor's case).

Twilight and Yuri then cooperate and rush to help the most important woman in their life.

Twilight told Yuri to find transportation, while he tried his best to stop his wife's profuse bleeding.

Yor gently held his hand, and whispered, "Don't abandon Anya..." which Twilight's responded with, "No. I will never." And in his desperation he told her that he will finally took a holiday from his job, and they will go to the apple festival at neighbour town (or any other family activity), which Yor responded with, "I'd love that."

Twilight smiled and warned his wife to take a deep breath cause his next action would hurt like hell.

And indeed it was.

The bleeding slowed down but enduring the pain was too much for weakened Yor and she passed out.

Twilight bit his lips to stop himself from crying, when he hugged and covered his wife with his jacket, whispering, "I'm sorry... I'm sorry....I'm sorry...."

Yuri came with functional vehicle and all of them rushed to medical facility.

At the hospital / hidden medical facility (maybe WISE's), Twilight was sitting, waiting with 'dead look' on his face. (For once he cannot do anything. For once all he can do was sit and wait.)

Yuri shoved a cup of hot coffee in front of his face, and said "My sister is strong. She managed to survive injury this severe back then, of course she will survive again this time."

Twilight was shocked to hear that. And we get a bit of Yor's flashback via Yuri's POV.

Little Yuri was sitting at the side of his sister's hospital bed. At that time he was told that Yor got an accident during her job/being mugged etc. And little Yuri cried his tears of joy when Yor finally opened her eyes. He took care of her. And after she finally able to stand back on her feet, Yuri studied extra hard, and got accepted at the Uni at 14 y.o.

Twilight was surprised to hear the story.

The doctor came out and tell the men that Yor has survived her surgery, and will be closely monitored at the ICU.

Just when Twilight want to see her, Handler came and asked him to finish the interrupted mission. So he went with several WISE agents.

He succeed in finishing the mission, and returned to the hospital.

Upon entering Yor's room, he saw Yuri snoring at the sofa. Anya curled at Yor's side. And his wife was sleeping with so many monitor cables, IV lines, oxygen mask attached to her.

He carefully held her hand and whispered, "Yor, please come back to us. To me."

Yor was dreaming about her past. When she was living happily during childhood, Yuri's birth, her parent's death. Her survival during her first years after her parent's death. Her meeting Garden. Her harsh training. Her first kill. (All of these will make our heart shatters without a doubt 😭💔💔)

And during her harshest days, she will always remembered her father's words, "Remember the warmth of your family. Your home."

Her father's words still echoing when Yor finally opened her eyes.

She looked around and deduced that apparently she was still alive. Especially since she can feel the warmth around her.

At the sofa, Yuri was sleeping soundly. Curled right next to her was Anya. And the one holding her hand was her husband.

She smiled, and with all the power she had at the time, she carressed her husband's hand with her thumb.

Loid jolted awake. And in his disoriented state, his eyes widen, and come close to his wife, whispered, "Yor?"

Yor rasped, "I'm..... home...."

Loid cried out of happines, and kissed her saying, "Welcome home." (And we will be bawling hard over this panel for sure 😭😭😭😭)

[melis-writes]

The Other Woman [Michael Corleone x Reader Multichapter, 18+ Smut] Chapter 5 – A Part of The Family.

Read on AO3 / Read Chapter 4 / Chapter Masterlist / Fanfic Playlist.

18+, explicit smut read.

"Michael cares about you, don't forget that." / "Forget Kay. This has nothing to do with her."

With the Las Vegas gala approaching, you can neither get your mind off of spending the formal evening with the Corleone's nor do you hear the end of it at the Lake Tahoe compound. Growing closer with both Anthony and Mary who've begun to open up to you and enjoy your teaching, your career as the Corleone household's governess thrives and is noticed by Michael and Kay for different reasons altogether. Kay has slowly begun to doubt her parenting skills from observing you whereas Michael is no longer waiting for you to give in but making his first move. In the meanwhile, what you've learned about the Corleone family only further convinces you Michael may be living in Vito Corleone's legacy, but is nothing like the bloodthirsty mafiosi that killed your brothers. Patience between the sexual frustration mounting between you two will take you both to Las Vegas, but Michael intention isn't to be the center of attention at a gala his family his hosting–it's to make you his.

[WARNINGS]: Sexual themes & mentions.

[AUTHOR'S NOTE]: Another chapter is finally here and an important one marking the end of this "slow burn" between Michael and Marina. 🤭💓 Michael won't stop to get at what he wants and he's no longer waiting for Marina to give in because he knows she can't in front of everyone and peering eyes, of course. 😳 Next chapter and onwards will be scandalous and promiscuous Michael's waited until the Las Vegas gala and he's going to make his first move, if it wasn't obvious in this chapter! 😈

Hired by the Corleone family as a governess, you relocate to the Lake Tahoe family compound, looking forward to your future in Nevada until you meet your employer—Michael Corleone. Your future is then ensnared only in lust and forbidden love for Michael since the beginning, and you find yourself yearning for a married man you can never have. Desire and passion clash with one another as Michael takes you to be his mistress—only having an exclusive sexual relationship with you while his sex life with Kay dies out. Knowing from the beginning you’ll never truly be with Michael and that your place in his life is worlds apart from Kay’s as the other woman, the love you have for him consumes you until it threatens to burn out everything you’ve ever had with Michael.

“I know you’re not used to these sorts of things,” Michael’s tone of voice is low and soothing, his words velvety as he speaks them so close to the side of your neck that you can feel his soft breath on you.

Your heart thunders in your chest from arousal and excitement coursing through you as you linger by the doorway of Michael’s office; refusing to step out and away from this man for as long as you possibly can.

“You will be,” Michael continues, taking a step closer to you and standing directly behind you, “as you get to understand my family name and the hospitality the Corleones offer.”

“Yes, sir,” you breathe back, barely audibly as the scent of Michael’s cologne hits you again.

Michael gazes at your back before letting his eyes wander admiringly over your figure, the curve of your hips and the shape of your thighs clinging against your pencil skirt. “Stay by me throughout the evening and you’ll be fine—if it comes to that.”

You give a small nod, slowly turning around to face Michael as you speak to him. “As long as I’m not disturbing your evening.”

You cannot push away the idea of possibly being a burden to the Corleones on such a special evening and social gathering, seeming as if you constantly need to be watched lest you somehow act out of line or do something wrong in front of hundreds of wealthy investors and businessmen.

“Nonsense,” Michael affirms, looking you in the eyes. “You’re not a burden, you’re my governess. You’re my guest.”

You surprise yourself with how you’re able to step out of Michael’s office without stumbling over your own two feet after having that conversation come to an end.

The tips of your ears and your cheeks sting, burning with blush as all you can think is how Michael’s planning to have this evening be tailored to you and your comfort up to the point where he’s picked out your gown for the evening.

As you make your way out of the Corleone estate and back to your living quarters, you remind yourself that even if you think Kay knows Michael’s done such a thing, you’ll keep everything and anything that happens between you and Michael all to yourself.

‘Everything should be fine.’

 You don’t think Kay would mind too much but then again as you think it over, the idea of having your husband pick out an evening dress for another woman stirs a bit of jealousy inside of you that you don’t think Kay is immune to herself.

Maybe Kay would look too deep into it; perhaps Kay knows her husband isn’t the type of man to just “pick” out a dress for someone and since Kay knows Michael like the back of her hand and you don’t, the possibilities are endless.

Kay’s mind may first go to Michael being generous and picking out a dress for you simply because you forgot to choose, or he chose a random one simply for the sake of saving time for the order, but if it comes to overthinking Michael’s picked out an evening dress for you because he thought about what color adorns your skin and body perfectly and what he’d like to see you in… It would mean trouble.

There’s nothing going on between you and Michael that you’re entirely aware of for the time being, but even having the slightest bit of a crush on a man like Michael Corleone must absolutely not be given away or told to anyone.

If you let your fantasies and the beat of your heart delude you into assuming something more with Michael, you may find yourself outed to people for trying to flirt and be with a married man who seems all too unattainable to you even if he was a bachelor.

Nobody can know how you feel about Michael; not now, and not ever. You know your heart would be better off if he doesn’t catch onto how you feel either.

~

All throughout the week, the only thing mentioned back and forth again with excitement and anticipation is the upcoming gala in Las Vegas this Saturday.

Whether you hear it giddily from Kay or Connie whose been carefully curating the perfect outfit for the evening makes no difference; there’s a thrill sparking inside you when you think of attending your first black tie event with the Corleone family that more often than not blends in with the amount of nervousness you feel about it too.

“That’s what I’m saying!” You overhear Kay excitedly exclaiming to Sandra over in the kitchen. “The family has come so far. I’m honestly so proud of Michael, he does so much for us. All that’s mentioned in Reno and Las Vegas in the business is our family name, you know that? It’s incredible how we’ll we’ve done.”

Something tells you however that Michael hasn’t and most likely won’t be giving Kay all of the details about his or the family’s business but if it’s one thing you’ve learned, it’s just how powerful and influential the Corleone family truly is.

‘Michael Corleone is a hell of a businessman and a good one at that…’

The topic of the Las Vegas gala is all the more unavoidable the closer you are to Kay which is consistent throughout the day as you teach the children, quietly mark homework, and take a break while going through some paperwork.

Sandra, Connie, and Theresa both share the excitement and anticipation for the gala, but none come near the unmatched enthusiasm of Kay.

Of course, Kay’s experience is just as incomparable as her excitement for the gala as being Mrs. Corleone has its benefits and luxuries others won’t share or come close to having

Michael and Kay Corleone together are the hosts of the gala and all eyes and ears will be on them throughout the night above all.

“Hopefully we’ll manage to enjoy a good dinner together,” you hear Kay sigh, “I just know the minute Michael arrives, all of his business partners will do anything to get a word in with him first. They won’t want to leave him alone.”

You find yourself blushing at the mention of Michael’s name, no longer catching yourself or mentally scolding yourself for it.

You wish you can be the one holding Michael’s attention consistently throughout the evening as if it was up to you, you would want him all to yourself for the remainder of the event regardless of whose desperate to talk business matters with Michael.

As Kay’s conversation with Sandra fades off onto another subject, you brush the topic out of your mind and continue focusing on your lesson planning for the day.

You ensure you’ve double-checked your planner so there’s enough time in tomorrow’s lesson for enough repetition and homework check, but also sufficient time to introduce a new unit without all of it being overbearing in one lesson.

‘A final little test for Twinkle Twinkle Little Star for piano should wrap up this unit before we learn another piece…’ Distracted, you haven’t realized that the estate has gone completely quiet except for a faint giggle coming from Kay.

Blinking, you sit up straight on the couch in the living room—expecting Kay or Sandra to walk in only to see Michael enter a split second later.

Your face flushes a shade of scarlet instantly from the blush stinging your cheeks, watching as Michael himself remains distracted by adjusting his gold watch over his wrist.

‘God…’ Your muscles tense up from arousal as you eye Michael eagerly, letting a swarm of butterflies rush over you at the sight of him.

Michael’s dressed in a wine-red dress shirt with the first three buttons undone, no tie, black dress trousers, matching leather belt, and white socks.

If you’d missed the sight of him for a few seconds longer, you’d have already picked up on his heavenly sandalwood and musk cologne filling the living room only adding to your sexual tension when you see a peek of Michael’s chest hair from his dress shirt.

Michael’s hair appears slightly damp as if he’s showered recently but a light layer of gel shines through his black locks, neatly slicked back and parted from the middle.

It’s obvious Michael has no intention to be dressed for business and professionalism right here and now, but his appearance is still sharp, and cleans up very well.

Just as Michael finishes clasping his watch over his wrist, he makes direct eye contact with you.

Your heart races in your chest as you give him a shy smile back; hoping to yourself out of embarrassment Michael didn’t notice you gawking at him the entire time before he looked over at you.

Only the thought of what it would be like to be held in Michael’s arms, nuzzle his neck to pick up that scent of cologne so close to you before beginning to kiss his warm skin and lead down to his collarbones takes precedence over your mind.

You can’t stop yourself from fantasizing about the man right in front of you, thinking, ‘God, what I would do to…’ You picture yourself unbuttoning down the rest of Michael’s shirt to kiss and lick up his chest; gladly getting down on your knees right away to undo his belt.

Only a brief moment passes as Michael begins to button up his dress shirt at the sight of you for the sake of being professional and not coming off as sloppy although Michael himself would prefer to show you more as well.

Michael gives you an acknowledging nod back to your smile before he exits from the living room, but the scent of his cologne remains as if his presence is still in here and so does the lingering feeling in your heart.

You can practically feel your heart aching and the sensation growing heavier and heavier upon each confrontation and conversation; you can no longer stop yourself from feverishly desiring this man nor do you want to.

‘Stop, Marina. Just stop… You’re doing this to yourself.’

You squeeze your eyes shut, desperately trying to block out any thought and mention of Michael Corleone from your head for just one minute.

‘I don’t know how much more of this I can take. I did this to myself.’

~

[ 1 Day Before The Las Vegas Gala ]

Having wrapped up your last lesson before the Las Vegas gala, you spent the last bit of your day doing homework review with all your students to start with a new learning unit next week for everyone.

In the morning, you reviewed math and history worksheets with the Hagens and Sandra’s children, then had a private review session with Anthony as requested by his parents before now doing the same with Mary to end your day.

In the Corleone estate’s study room, you and Mary sit side by side at the center study desk, overviewing a math worksheet from earlier this week.

With the evening air setting in and light rain out, you can see the glisten of the compound’s security lights slowly rotating around the estates outside and enjoy the soft sounds of rain surrounding the estate.

“Anthony says it’s easy,” Mary pouts at the worksheet in front of her, looking at the multiplication homework.

“Maybe it’s easy for him, but not for everyone and that’s okay,” you give Mary a reassuring smile. “We all learn differently, don’t we?”

 “Hmm…” Mary peeks up at you, feeling somewhat relieved. “All the homework is easy for you, right Miss Marina?”

“You think it is?” A playful grin forms over your lips.

“Maybe,” Mary giggles, shrugging her shoulders. “Because you teach math really well.”

Unbeknownst to both of you, Kay made her way down the hallway and towards the study room just a few moments prior to pop her head in and take a peek as to how the homework review is going, only to remain in front of the ajar study door and out of sight instead.

Kay thinks to herself that she’ll enter the study room at the perfect moment and chime in on the topic of homework to see Mary’s progress face to face but without interrupting your review and explanations to Mary.

“Why thank you,” you give Mary a beaming smile, “I try my best, but believe it or not, I wasn’t very good at math when I was growing up.”

“Really?” Mary’s eyes widen in disbelief, “no way! How?”

Kay smiles, gazing at her daughter between the crack of the door as she continues listening in on the conversation, clasping her hands together in front of her.

“See,” you chuckle, “when it comes to a subject like math, once you know what you’re doing step by step, all the answers start to come to you and they begin to make sense. That’s why when we do multiplication homework like this,” you hold up the worksheet in your hands, “we like to see and write down all of the steps we took to get the answers for these numbers, right?”

“Right,” Mary nods, looking back at the worksheet.

“So it’s all about understanding and learning the steps first. Then you got it,” you set the worksheet back down on the desk, “and you already did so well on this, Mary. I’m proud of you. Even for the questions you got wrong here,” you gesture to the paper, “you tried, you put in the work and all your steps. That’s why we go through them now, right? So we can see where we made our mistakes and how we can correct them.”

“Yeah,” Mary giggles to herself. “It… It was fun!”

“Oh yeah?” Your eyes light up, “it was, wasn’t it? Maybe not so much the whole homework part, but—” both of you burst out laughing in unison. “But the learning was probably the most fun!”

“Learning with you, Miss Marina,” Mary adds, nodding happily.

Kay feels nothing but joy in her heart to see that sparkle in Mary’s eyes speaking for her enthusiasm and how she’s genuinely improving in her math lessons with you then and there.

“I’m very happy to hear that,” you can’t help the growing smile on your lips. “Actually, maybe you’re the first student to say that homework might be a little fun too!”

It’s when Mary exclaims, “Miss Marina is the best!” and gleefully leans in to give you a hug that the proud and joyful smile on Kay’s face begins to fade.

Kay moves her hand away from the study door, watching as you hug Mary back and say, “and you’re the best student!”

It’s not that Kay’s unable to show her own daughter affection or receive any in return—of course, Mary hugs her mother—but it’s the snuggling and the bubbly attitude of Mary’s she consistently keeps up with you and is more than comfortable in your presence is something Kay has had difficulty keeping up with her own children.

Feeling a sharp pain tugging at her and hating herself for letting a wholesome moment between student and governess hit this close to her own struggles, Kay bites down on the corner of her lip before turning back on her heel and walking away.

Mary and you haven’t noticed a thing, and it’ll only be another five minutes until the homework review is officially wrapped up and Mary skips off back to her room to get ready for bed.

As you begin to organize and tidy up the rest of your paperwork remaining on the desk, you hear a soft knock at the door and recognize that rhythm of knocking can only come from one person—Tom Hagen.

“Evening, Marina,” you hear Tom’s voice just a moment after. “May I come in?”

“Of course,” you look back towards the door, greeting Tom with a smile as he walks into the study and quietly shuts the door behind him.

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Tom says sheepishly, noticing the pile of paperwork over your desk.

“Definitely not,” you let out a soft laugh, pushing the paperwork in front of you toward the corner of the desk.

“Finishing up for the night?” Tom chuckles.

“Something like that,” you turn in your chair to face Tom.

“How do you feel about tomorrow afternoon?” Tom asks, shifting the conversation over to the Las Vegas gala as you expected him to.

Both of you exchange an understanding glance, knowing the conversation would come to this.

“Well…” You open your mouth to answer before pausing and remaining quiet for a moment as you ponder what to say back to Tom. “I can say I feel strongly towards it.”

“Mm,” Tom nods, smiling at the floor. “I thought so, which doesn’t sound like a bad thing coming from you. It is your first time traveling to and attending a gala, isn’t it?”

“It is,” you confirm. “I’m a little anxious about it but excited. You know, I’m sure that same excuse has been made a million times over, so,” you laugh quietly to yourself. “I don’t know.”

“Sure, but that’s normal,” Tom replies back. “It’s a formal gala and this one only takes place every few years, especially on the anniversary date for the Corleone family business in Reno and Las Vegas.”

“Did Michael send you?” You give Tom a small smile, thinking this may just be last-minute reassurance on Michael’s behalf since you don’t expect him to come into the study to talk with you one on one at this hour.

Only a split second later do you feel embarrassment wash over you, wondering why you just asked Tom that.

“No?” Tom blinks in confusion, “I thought I’d come to check in on you.”

“Don’t think me ungrateful, Tom,” you giggle, “I get it. I really appreciate it. I just thought Michael may have sent you because he’s essentially said the same to me.”

“Of course he did,” an amused grin forms over Tom’s lips. “Which is why he’d want me to tell you that if you do have any questions or concerns, Michael would want you to voice it to him directly, not to me or even through me.”

“That makes sense,” you blush, glancing away.

‘If it’s an excuse to see and talk to Michael, I’ll take it…’

“Michael as I can already guess,” Tom rolls his eyes before laughing to himself, “wants you to feel as comfortable and welcome at the gala as you do here. Still think he’s intimidating?”

You glance back at Tom and the two of you stare at each other for a moment before you both burst out laughing.

“No?” you say through your laughter, covering your mouth.

“I know, I know,” Tom holds his hands up in surrender. “I hate to word it that way, but I just had to ask. I know Michael can be when he wants to.”

“Maybe so,” you lean back in your seat, “but I don’t really see it. I’m getting to know Michael better and understanding the kind of man he is as I am with the rest of the family.”

“Good,” a look of relief crosses Tom’s expression. “Then that’s all you need, hmm? We take very good care of our own, Marina. You don’t have to take my word for it,” Tom puts his hands into the pockets of his trousers, smiling at you. “And Michael cares about you, don’t forget that.”

~

“Michael cares about you, don’t forget that.”

Tom’s words linger with you long after he’s retired for the evening, and only then do they sink in and you find yourself begging your heart not to overthink it again.

Relaxing your muscles against your seat, you let out a soft breath and gaze around the study room, feeling accomplished to have finished your work for the day, planned next week’s lessons upon your return from the gala, and have all of your paperwork in order.

You’ve had a productive day at the very least, leaving you only to think about how tomorrow will be.

You know Esther went to bed early tonight, exhausted from keeping up with the children and you don’t blame her, but it leaves you without anyone to confide in tonight.

You’re still in the Corleone manor’s study after all but until the pouring rain begins to still or at least return to a drizzle, you doubt you can make it across the compound and back to your room without risk of catching a cold and being completely soaked.

‘No rush…’ You nibble on your bottom lip, pushing thoughts of the Las Vegas gala aside to think about tomorrow when it truly matters.

Brushing a curtain of your hair behind your ear, you stretch out your arms and let out a soft grunt as you rise up from your seat—deciding to indulge in a novel for a bit as you wait for the rain to settle down.

You move towards the bookshelves, stopping in your tracks for a moment to look at the sheer amount of bookshelves and selections remaining before you.

There are well over a dozen bookshelves on both sides of the study, placed for ample room so several people can pick and choose from one bookshelf at a time and so the study neither appears looking overcrowded or empty.

On each bookshelf remains small gold engraved labels stating what genre of books are on what shelf, particularly the books labeled under “history” further specifying years leading to language guides, fiction novels, first edition classics, non-fiction, and much more.

You blink at the selection, pleasantly taken back from so many choices that you almost feel overwhelmed at the thought of picking one novel when you could very well spend an endless amount of time in this study if you wanted to.

You walk over to one of the history-labeled bookshelves neatly organized with pressed newspapers, file folders, and leather-covered books next to well-preserved documents when you notice a label on the top shelf reading “FAMILY”.

You pause, wondering if this is a private section and if you should even be touching t in the first place.

Your eyes continue to wander over newspapers and documents on the top shelf as you gently pick through them with your finger so as not to cinch or damage any of the paper.

Starting at the very left side of the top shelf, common sense tells you that if there’s anything on this shelf—let alone in this study—that you’re not allowed to access or see, it wouldn’t be here.

The first few newspaper articles you touch over mention “CRIME FAMILY” with names of mafia families you’ve heard of and those you haven’t.

The names “Barzini” and “Tattaglia” stand out to you first and foremost, with the articles always mentioning the phrases “criminal underworld”, “boss”, or “big shot” to describe what you assume to be top-ranking mafiosi or the Dons of the crime families themselves.

Many of the newspapers you come across are dating chronologically from the start of the 1930s to all throughout the 1940s, consistently mentioning crime, the FBI, cases gone cold, or how the police are trailing them but it’s not until you get to 1946 that shock suddenly hits you.

You pull out a newspaper article with the front page reading: "VITO CORLEONE FEARED MURDERED: POLICE HUNT GUNMEN".

On the left side of the front page is a black and white portrait of Don Vito Corleone—Michael’s late father and on the right side, a photograph of the police and paramedics carrying a grievously wounded Vito in a stretcher.

‘Oh my God.’ You quickly set that article aside to read before finding another following it also dated in 1946 reading “POLICE CAPTAIN LINKED WITH DRUG RACKETS” next to a third article reading “POLICE HUNT COP KILLER”.

Setting those two aside with the article about Vito Corleone, the next article dated in 1947 you take out reads “THIRD MONTH OF GANGLAND VIOLENCE”.

‘There’s a pattern here…’ Moving towards the end of the shelf, you notice the coloring of the newspapers change—lighter and newer than the old articles you picked out.

Picking out the most recent newspaper placed last on the shelf, you find a blush hitting your cheeks immediately and almost dropping the article from your hands at the sight of a large black and white portrait of Michael himself on the front page; “MICHAEL CORLEONE: BUSINESSMAN THROUGH CORLEONE LEGACY”.

Gazing at the photograph of Michael, your heart rate begins to race in your chest once more—accompanied by a dizzying wave of butterflies.

Taking that last newspaper with the others you picked out, you look out towards the window and continue to hear the thundering rain.

The study door remains closed as Tom left it and you can’t hear any approaching footsteps, but then again you aren’t doing something you shouldn’t be, even if it may be embarrassing to explain to someone why you’re reading all of these old articles.

Funny enough, the recent article of Michael dated a month back would make the most sense, but not the others in your hands that you’re curious to read and learn more about.

“I mafiosi non sono tuoi amici. Ti useranno e poi ti uccideranno.” (Don’t trust Mafiosi as we did. Mafiosi are not your friends; they’ll use you and then they will kill you.)

You remember your mother and father’s warning words to you after the deaths of your brothers as you take the newspaper articles back to your desk to read.

These articles are nothing but mafia territory and an explanation of it; you know very well who Don Vito Corleone was and the legacy behind the Corleone family, after all.

Taking a seat and leaning your arms down on the desk, you begin to read the article “VITO CORLEONE FEARED MURDERED: POLICE HUNT GUNMEN”.

The article reads that Vito Corleone was found shot five times in the chest at close range while he was out with his son Fredo Corleone at a local fruit market.

It’s mentioned that Vito fell to his suspected demise in front of witnesses and passersby near the fruit stand who fled in terror.

Fredo Corleone—Vito’s son and on scene—was reported to be terrified beyond words; in a state of shock, sobbing and helplessly wailing over what he believed to be his father’s corpse.

Fredo was found by the police covered in his father’s blood and pleading with the paramedics and police officers to help.

You clasp a hand over your mouth, disheartened by what you’re reading.

Fredo is Michael’s older brother and you’re bound to meet him tomorrow as well—hearing from Kay that Fredo’s been in Hollywood for the past two months with his wife, famous actress Deanna Dunn who will also attend the Las Vegas gala.

‘This must be Fredo…’ Flipping the page, you see a somewhat blurry photograph of Fredo sobbing on the sidewalk with his face in his hands as Vito Corleone is taken away in a stretcher by paramedics.

The rest of the article continues to describe Vito as a “hot shot underworld gangster”, although such terms aren’t unheard of to you, especially growing up in Hell’s Kitchen.

The suspected gunmen are being investigated—the article states—and Fredo was also hospitalized due to his state of shock.

Lastly, before the article comes to an end, it mentions Vito Corleone is reported to be in critical condition and it’s not certain if he will make it or not.

The newspaper ends by saying this may be the start of violence as you or anyone else reading this article could have figured out since it’s all too common for full-blown mob wars to start when someone chooses to target a Don.

‘That’s a complete declaration of war, but were the police truly investigating?’ You assume that Vito must have had the police on his payroll for that to even take place.

‘And what about “POLICE HUNT COP KILLER”?’ At first glance of the front pages, you don’t recognize any correlation from the two newspapers but from their placement alone on the bookshelf, you know they must be related somehow.

As you read through both—comparing and contrasting dates and events noted in the articles as you go—you realize the dates of each article are just a week apart.

“POLICE CAPTAIN LINKED WITH DRUG RACKETS” was almost stuffed between “POLICE HUNT COP KILLER” on the shelf and revealed all of these events occurred within a week of each other.

The articles tell you that at a small, family-owned, Italian-American restaurant called Louis Restaurant, police Captain Mark McClusky was killed.

The article details that McClusky was shot once in the neck and then in the forehead at very close range and that he had been with a businessman named Virgil Sollozzo who was dining with him.

Sollozzo was also killed alongside McClusky; shot twice in the head which is suspected to be immediately after McClusky and both perished together at the dining table.

“My God,” you mumble to yourself, blinking at the headlines.

Naturally, it makes sense to you that one of the Corleone men—most likely a buttonman considering the stakes and killings done in a public restaurant—must have done this.

‘Does it have anything to do with Vito Corleone being shot? It must be. It has to be for revenge.’

When your eyes gloss over the next newspaper article reading “POLICE CAPTAIN LINKED WITH DRUG RACKETS” immediately tells you this police Captain McClusky himself was directly involved with the mafia and the dates can only further reveal it must have been either for Barzini or Tattaglia.

Those are the only two mafia families you’ve heard of that have corrupted themselves with smuggling and selling narcotics and you can already guess what a wide-scale scandal this headline must have created.

It makes all the more sense why a man like McClusky and Sollozzo would both be killed, especially together.

If it’s one thing you know about the mafia, it’s that they will not kill an innocent person deliberately; considering the mafia family at hand upholds Sicilian mafioso traditions and customs.

Mafia families have no room to appear anything less than decent and proper, lest they risk exposing their own corruption and members to law enforcement and the public eye.

With two shots in the head a piece—just like how your brothers were gunned down—you know Sollozzo wasn’t collateral damage; he was a target just as much as McClusky was.

Picking up the article titled “MICHAEL CORLEONE: BUSINESSMAN THROUGH CORLEONE LEGACY”, you sigh in relief to see the article has nothing to do with the others you’ve read.

Dated just a month ago, the up close and personal portrait of Michael on the front page has your heart racing and begging for you to stop gazing upon it again and again.

Turning the page, you immediately begin to read the article that explains to you how Michael Corleone, son of underworld bigshot Vito Corleone is a successful businessman on his own terms and by his own hard work and gain.

Vito Corleone himself may have been infamous but was also a respected man, and aside from generational wealth, Michael further gained a positive and lucrative reputation and opportunity for the Corleone family following Vito’s death.

Unlike Vito, the newspaper states Michael does not involve himself in bookmaking, racketeering, or other forms of crime found brewing n the mafia’s hand but invests in businesses, stocks, casinos, hotels, and resorts.

The article also names that the most successful and booming hotel resorts owned by the Corleones are the biggest ones in Reno and Las Vegas and that the Corleone family plans to continue expanding.

Michael’s stated to be very successful in all of the best ways possible building off of his father’s legacy, and is also noted to be a multi-millionaire who married his college sweetheart—a woman named Kay Adams Corleone—in 1951.

With the mere mention of “college sweetheart” alone, you find yourself frowning without even being aware of it—once again feeling a sting of jealousy hit you.

Reading past the part that says Michael and Kay have two children with each other, you’re just about to set the newspaper down and organize all of them to put them back on the shelf when you notice you left one article aside without touching it.

The last newspaper you set out has a bold headline reading “THIRD MONTH OF GANGLAND VIOLENCE” and when you pick it up, it details that over three months of violence ensued between the Corleones, Tattaglias, and Barzinis but even the newspaper has worded such “conflict” in a crafty way so as not to state it explicitly.

This article appears to be the next one chronologically dated after “POLICE CAPTAIN LINKED WITH DRUG RACKETS” and stresses that a bloody mafia war has cost the families in lives and millions with no sign of stopping or being sidetracked.

It’s only when you reach the very end of the article do your eyes widen in shock as you clasp a hand over your mouth.

The last bit states the eldest son of Vito Corleone and his protegee—Santino Corleone—was assassinated by what is suspected to be the Barzini family.

“Jesus…” You remember Tom briefly mentioning Santino, his, Fredo’s, and Michael’s eldest brother but from the looks of the article, it’s very apparent to you that Santino was a full-on mafioso and completely involved in all activities of the family.

You know you should have no pity in your heart for the death of any mafioso, but you can’t help yourself but feel empathy for Santino Corleone’s death even though you’ll never meet him or understand the man he was behind his criminal activities.

‘He was a Corleone too, after all.’

Finally setting down all of the newspapers before you in a neat pile, you take a deep breath and rub your sore eyes.

Your gaze meets up with the locked door of the study once more as you mentally remind yourself that you’re not doing anything “wrong” or “snooping” but that what you just did actually benefit you in learning more about the Corleone family on your own terms.

Everything you’ve just read may have explained the bloody mafia history behind the Corleone family name amidst others, but nothing shows you Michael is or was ever involved.

The article revolving around Michael practically sings of his praises, saying Michael is a young, witty, and cunning businessman who holds the reigns of the Corleone family and leads it to success.

Yet again, you have no second thoughts about Michael, no doubts in your heart about his integrity or honesty and you believe and trust in Michael to be a good person.

You want him to be and you trust him to be, just the way you trust Michael to show you that side of him to you tomorrow.

~

[ Next Morning ]

With the excitement ringing through the compound coming from the Corleone women up early to have bodyguards and chauffeurs begin packing their bags, you momentarily went into a panic thinking you must have slept into the afternoon.

Recognizing it Sandra, Connie, and Kay’s anticipation put them in a rush to get packed and ready, the first thing you do in the morning after refreshing in the bathroom and pulling on a simple shirtwaist dress is putting your one piece of luggage outside and next to Kay’s three to be loaded into one of the cars.

By the time you’re out to set your luggage down, Kay and the others are back in shouting hairstyle and makeup suggestions back and forth to each other to get it all done before the afternoon.

You smile to yourself, turning around and squinting your eyes up at the warm sun soaking over your skin. You know you won’t be spending half as much time getting glammed up for a plane ride to Vegas and that you’ve got ample time in your day to get ready.

Just as you’re about to turn back on your heel and head back to your living quarters to properly begin to get ready you hear Michael’s velvety voice calling for you from behind.

“Good morning, Marina,” you hear Michael speak as you stop in your tracks and suddenly you feel almost bare and hardly semi-presentable before him.

‘Oh my God.’ With instant reaction, your muscles clench from arousal in the presence of Michael—eagerly gazing at the new tailored, three-piece, black and silk Italian suit he’s wearing; black silk tie and gold cufflinks.

Michael’s hair is gelled back and parted through the middle neatly; not a single hair loose nor a wrinkle in his suit with all the awareness you’re not able to get your eyes off of him even if you wanted to.

“I hope you slept well,” Michael’s eyes meet yours as you turn around to face him; briefly admiring your natural beauty under the glowing rays of the sun.

‘This man… I swear.’

“Michael,” you breathe back, smiling at him. “As well as I could. I hope you have as well.”

Michael gives you a nod before gesturing his hand towards a bodyguard approaching from the other end of the compound, pointing towards your luggage in specific—not Kay’s or Connie’s.

“Thank you,” you whisper to the bodyguard who gives you an acknowledging glance before taking your luggage to pack next.

“It doesn’t hurt to be proactive and pack for this afternoon, however,” Michael glances back towards his and Kay’s estate. “Rest assured we’re still leaving at our planned time; no sooner, no later.”

“Right,” you chuckle. “I was just going to head back and get ready my—”

“ANTHONY! Anthony!” You hear Kay cry out from the estate in a hurry. “Sweetheart, don’t forget your tie! It’s not put on right! Come here, please.”

“Well,” Tom’s voice chimes in as he exits from the Corleone estate. “At this rate, we’ll all be ready by the afternoon. Hi, Marina.”

“Hi, Tom,” you give him a small wave, “are two cars taking us?”

“That’s right,” Michael nods.

“We might actually be back in three if…” Tom cringes, giving a short shrug. “If Fredo is bringing Deanna back to stay with us for a bit.”

Although you can tell Tom is more than just mildly irritated by the idea, you see Michael’s expression hardens at his suggestion but he doesn’t react further.

“Not something you look forward to?” You break the momentary silence falling in between you three.

“Uh,” Tom scratches the back of his neck, “I suppose not. Miss Dunn can be a handful and well, so can Fredo sometimes. You’ll see.”

Michael takes a step closer towards you before you three look back up towards the Corleone estate to see the front door burst open and Anthony snickering, rushing out with a loose tie over his neck and a helpless Kay following after him.

“Anthony, seriously!” Kay huffs, “Anthony, this isn’t funny! Get back here!”

‘Ah, Anthony…’

You notice as Tom grins and gestures towards Anthony. “Kid’s full of energy, what can you do? I’ll get him for you, Kay.”

“Thank you, Tom,” Kay sighs in relief, looking back over at Michael who redirected his gaze to yours almost immediately.

“Marina?”

“Yes?” The scarlet blush over your cheeks deepens.

“Walk with me,” he gestures, turning his back on Kay and the estate.

Nodding, you walk up closer to Michael and remain by his side as he leads you away from his estate and further back toward your living quarters, barely having acknowledged Kay in the midst of all that.

Kay blinks in confusion, watching Michael and you walk away together but from the exhaustion of keeping up with Anthony and hearing Mary calling back to her whining a bow fell out of her hair, Kay can’t keep her thoughts straight and think much else of it.

Michael doesn’t need to pull you away or talk to you privately, he simply prefers to.

“You’ve packed everything you need?” He finally asks you once you’re both away from anyone else’s hearing distance.

“Mhmm, everything’s good to go,” you reply back.

“There will be something else when you arrive at your hotel suite in Vegas,”  Michael tells you.

“Something else…?” Your eyes begin to widen with curiosity.

“You’ll see when you get there,” Michael makes direct eye contact with you. “Kay tells me you have everything you two ordered…”

‘Ordered. You were the one who picked out that dress for me…’

“It’ll be ready in your suite as well when you arrive.” Michael finishes his sentence. “That’s all.”

‘What?’

“Right,” you nod back—the smile on your lips growing. “And thank you again for that, Michael. I can’t thank you enough.”

“You can thank me by wearing it,” Michael replies—surprising you with his response instead of saying “You don’t need to” or something similar when he hears you thanking him again and again. “I want to see you in it tonight.”

“Of course…” From Michael’s words alone, the arousal pumping through you feels as if your pussy has a heartbeat of its own despite your mind begging you not to take Michael’s words the way your body craves to.

“Is there anything else I can do to make your experience more comfortable?” Michael asks, putting his hands in the pockets of his trousers as you begin to approach your living quarters.

“I’m sure there’s a million more questions I’d like to ask but none of them come to mind,” you admit, sheepishly. “Knowing me.”

“Then as I’ve requested, stay close with me tonight,” Michael comes to a stop, facing you. “And then I’ll know.”

“I…” Blushing furiously, you give your head a small shake. “I know we talked about this and—”

“We did,” Michael reaffirms. “But I’m no longer suggesting it or offering it to you. I’m asking you to do it.”

“Wouldn’t Mrs. Corleon—”

“Forget Kay,” Michael interrupts, looking sternly into your eyes. “This has nothing to do with her. I want you there with me tonight, understood?” With your heart beginning to pound in your chest, you hardly have a moment to reply back to Michael before he adds, lowering his tone to a soft, ushered one, “Knowing you, I don’t know where else you’d want to be.”

[kurogxrix]

All Of My Love ( III. )

(Series Masterlist)

Neteyam x Avatar!reader

IN WHICH Neteyam’s mother and clan disapproves of your relationship, because you’re a dreamwalker. When you both advance in your relationship, the clan cannot help but attempt to ruin things for the both of you.

WC: 5.1K

Warnings: ANGST, Betrayal, misunderstandings, Neytiri being Neytiri, feels and heartbreaks. BADLY EDITED

Upon your arrival back at the High Camp, you were first greeted by the fierceness of Tarsem’s tight grip on your shoulder. You had not even had time to properly dismount your ikran, and his force had nearly caused you to stumble in front of everyone watching. Without much complaints from your side, you let the older man drag you to the centre of the chaos that was about to unfold.

You just couldn’t catch a goddamn rest in this clan.

He stopped abruptly before a large body of people and you were glad that his hand had left your sore shoulder. Your eyes flickered towards Zepii that was standing in the embrace of her mother, tear stained cheeks still evident. She gave you an apologetic look at her father’s actions. 

“You demons bring no other than calamity upon this land!” he affirmed with his strong accent and deep voice. Tarsem turned towards the rest of the clan that was encircling the both of you as you stood awkwardly before the many eyes. Neteyam had already arrived shortly after you. He didn’t know what he wanted anymore, whether to comfort you after his outburst or to sulk at his turn. Though when he witnessed the sight of you in the midst of attention, he just couldn’t help but stand back and watch. 

Tarsem grabbed your forearm roughly, showing you off to the clan as though they had never seen you before. His grip was tight enough to hurt for a while but nothing that would bruise. You shoulder suffered from the discomfort of the position, but you eased your mind by telling yourself that sooner or later, he would have to let go of you. 

“The dreamwalker has endangered my daughter on this day!” he roared and the mass of omatikaya seemed just as enraged as him. They yelled and thrashed in mass at your mere presence and you could help but wish for the ground to sink in and engulf you with it. 

“She saved me, father! If not, I would've not been standing here before you.” Zepii cried, trying to prove your innocence as her mother held her back. She had always been the clan’s little treasure, a kind mannered girl that never even dared to speak back before. So when she had raised her voice in your honour, Tarsem had truly been shocked. 

Tarsem turned around to face his daughter. For a moment, he had allowed himself to believe that she was solely protecting you for the sake of rebelling, because she had reached that age in her life. Though the genuine concern on her face spoke many words and her father had thought that you might’ve casted some kind of spell on her at that moment. Tarsem had made it clear from the start that she was not allowed to even dare and interact with you, and now it was clear that the both of you were close friends behind her parent’s backs. 

While the people were busy bickering amongst themselves, Neteyam had pushed his way to the front of the circle. His family was close behind and the little Tuk was begging Lo’ak to hop on his shoulders so she could see what was happening. 

“How could Toruk Makto even approve of you living amongst us, playing pretend like you will ever be one of the people.” After hearing the omatikaya mistreat you with their worlds for so long, Tarsem’s words had not affected you as he had hoped for. He wanted for you to be hurt, so damaged that you would leave and never return. He wanted you to realise that your place would never be among them, but with the humans instead. 

Jake had finally managed to push through the packed crowd at his turn, joining his son in his spot. It was suffocating to stand in the middle of the circle, not because of the packed area but because of all of the judgemental eyes. They pierced through your soul with disapproval and blind eyes, unable to see more than an artificial body and a demon. Jake sympathised with you because he had once been in your shoes, and look at where he was now. 

As the Olo’eyktan, it was his duty to settle down this argument and reinstall peace in his village. Neytiri however had seemed to have had other plans as she pushed her way past her husband. Her beaded braids rattled rhymically as she now stood before the other warrior. She moved swiftly towards you, heavy footsteps resonating against the floor as she made her way. Jake was quick to be on her tail, trying to prevent his wife from making the matters worse as she arrived before you. He could only wish that his wife’s hatred would not overtake her judgement towards you. 

“You will leave this village before you are the cause of any more trouble!” she ordered before the clan, authority drowning in her sharp tone. Hell, even Eywa would shudder at the woman’s tone. 

“And stop casting your filthy eyes towards my son, he is to be Olo’eyktan and he needs a real na’vi woman to rule at his side.” she rebuked you and your heart was racing faster than any speed your ikran could ever attain. The vexed look that Neteyam threw at his mother went unnoticed as everyone was too busy observing the dispute. 

“I have done more to your son than just ‘casting my filthy eyes on him’” you mocked her insult, digging yourself your own grave as Neytiri’s eyes widened at your intuition. The whole village gasped at your crude comment and that should’ve been an obvious warning for you to shut up, because which foreigner was stupid enough to go against a clan leader? You were tired of being berated by the woman, and you were enjoying playing around with her nerves for the moment, even if it meant that she would literally kill you afterwards. 

Your eyes moved towards the distressed Neteyam, and there was something in his eyes that told you to just shut the fuck up before you made matters worst. 

Neytiri’s anger only rose at your defiance, she stood right before you, towering over your frame as she stared straight into your soul. She pushed Tarsem’s hand away harshly, having the man nearly doubling over at the woman’s manners. She was quick to be the holder of your shoulder this time, though her grip was not as lenient as Tarsem’s. 

You winced slightly as her nails dug thoroughly into your flesh, nearly enough to draw the slightest amount of blood. She did not want to physically harm you, no that was not of her interest as of now. Her loathe towards you was just taking over her emotions and the fact that you refused to submit to her demand had made everything 10x worse. 

Jake wasn’t very far behind the both of you when he ripped apart his mate from you, slightly embarrassed at the scene that she was causing. Nevertheless he put his shame to the side to protect you from her wrath, because he knew of her abilities. She was Palulukan Makto, someone not to be messed with. Neytiri didn’t even bother to cast her mate a glare as she continued to look down at you.  “He will never be yours because he cannot!” 

“My son cannot be with you because he is already promised to another!” Neytiri hissed at you and you felt the time stop at her confession. You just couldn’t believe it, there’s no way Neteyam would’ve hidden this from you. Right? 

You turned back to look at him in all of your loud-silence and your heart throbbed at the evident guilt in his doleful eyes. His iris glistened with sorrow and his ears fell, grounded to his skull. His eyes quickly moved from your state of realisation and then to the floor, too ashamed to meet your eyes once more.  You felt your heart drop all the way to your toes as you moved to face Zepii, and she too, wore that same guilty look. She stood awkwardly on her feet as you stared her down, and the anxious fiddling of her fingers told you that she felt uneasy. 

Neteyam felt so much resentment towards his mother at the moment. Not because she had announced his betrothal, that was all on him to take the blame for. He should’ve told you from the moment he had begun to be infatuated with you. He should’ve told you when you had both shared a  kiss for the first time near the bioluminescent river flow. Though he did not, because under his tough guy persona, Neteyam was just a coward.

He was scared of so many things. He had fears that he could not even get to express to you. He feared disappointing his father and mother. He feared his family getting hurt. He feared the moment where you would’ve discovered his secret that he just couldn’t get himself to tell you. Now that everything was happening before his own eyes, he felt his fears turn into phobias - engulfing him in a darkness that he could not even escape. 

You felt your eyes fill up with tears, held back by your waterline. Though you refused to shed a tear for the same people that had betrayed you, so you forced yourself to suck them back in. You had cried enough for Neteyam in the past, and you refused to do it anymore. Though only in public, you were sure that you’d empty the contents of your body later on in your solitude. 

You refused to turn this into your own pity party, surely not before the omatikaya clan. Everything was as clear as day. Of course it had been, you had just been blinded by the love you held for the both of them. How could you not have seen it coming? The future Olo’eyktan, golden child of the Sully’s paired with the village’s perfect, favourable daughter of Tarsem. 

Maybe this was just a cruel joke played on you, perhaps Neteyam and Zepii were like all of the others. You grieved on all of the times that Zepii had made you feel like one of them and you told yourself that perhaps her father had put her up to it. She shared every single one of her secrets with you, and so did you. How could she have hidden this from you, even though she knew that it would wreck you over the line. 

You heard Zepii softly call out your name from the sidelines but she was met with the harsh sight of your ignorance. You felt the feeling of sorrow unlatch your heart, before feeling something new wrap around it with ease. You no longer felt as much sadness as you did before, instead you felt loathsome. You didn’t want to feel piqued towards the both of them for being promised, because you knew that it was most likely not their own choices anyways. You felt so conflicted because they had chosen to hide it from you. You wondered why Neteyam had chosen to, because of his forced courtship with the woman, he would’ve soon had to let you go to pursue the other woman. 

The other woman, was that what you had been this whole time? 

“Y/N, I can explain,” Neteyam pleaded but as he tried to move forward to seek you out, he was quickly prevented by the strong arms of his little brother. He looked back to glare at Lo’ak, trying to pull his arm from his brother’s oddly strong grip. 

“What are you doing Skxawng!” Neteyam growled at his younger brother, trying to tower over his frame. Though lo’ak stood up straight, asserting that he feared not his brother. His eyebrows were furrowed and the creases on his forehead were very much visible. Lo’ak had been your friend ever since he had met Spider, and even though he was not as close to you anymore as he once was, he knew what it felt like to be outcasted. 

He felt slightly relieved at first when you had joined the clan, because all judgmental eyes were turned towards you, and for once in his life - lo’ak could breathe again. Though after a while he felt slightly guilty for feeling such a way because he out of everyone would know what it feels like to not fit into other’s expectations. 

Lo’ak watched as his brother ruined his own relationship in excuse of his issues. He ruined what you both had because he was unable to trust you, whatever you did to prove yourself, it was never enough for his unreal expectations. He was afraid to give his full trust because of his fears. And that Lo’ak knew better than anyone else too. Neteyam trusted him very little, even though he loved his brother very much. Neteyam would always prevent Lo’ak from bringing Tuk out with him, or leaving during eclipse - because he failed to trust his brother completely. 

Now, he refused to watch his brother ruin you once more like he had already done. So if watching you walk away was what he had to force his elder brother into, then so he would. Neteyam had stopped resisting long ago, despite him overpowering his brother’s force by much, he refused to escape the grip that lo’ak held on him. 

He watched as you walked away from him once more, pushing your way through the heavy crowd. You look towards the dusty floor, too ashamed to look at anyone else right now. Today was pure humiliation for you, everything that had happened. The hunt accident, Tarsem's and Neytiri’s borderline assault and the public revelation that had been casted upon you. You had no idea of where you were headed, but you knew that anywhere out of the High Camp was for the best. 

-

You didn’t know how you had found yourself here, in the middle of the forest, lost in the midst of the night. The eerie sounds and weird feeling of being watched should have scared you, but you were in no mood to care at the moment. Few moments ago you had gone through both humiliation and heartbreak at the same time, you just couldn’t care much anymore. 

You were sitting on a log of deadwood, a hand supporting your chin as you rested your hand on it. Your other hand was on your lap as you watched the passing yerik carefully travel the forest. You had no weapon with you at the moment because you have left everything behind without looking back twice. Now you just felt utterly stupid, if some creature was to ambush you right now, you’d surely wake up in cold sweat in your human body - back at the lab. That’s where you should’ve been heading to right now, but a little detour around the forest was what you had chosen. 

Lost in your thoughts, you had failed to notice the way a silent na’vi had made her way towards you. Somehow even in your unknown location, she had seemed to have followed you all the way till here, simply on the back of her ikran. You turned your head towards her when you felt her sudden presence, not even jumping when you had noticed the strange third party. 

She was silent, and you appreciated that at the moment. The only sounds between you both were those of the belligerent yerik and the relaxing flowing of some fountain that you assumed was nearby. You looked at her up and down, wondering why she had even bothered to follow you. You had never once even spoken to the girl, she was the one that had challenged you into an ikran race earlier. 

“What do you want?” you tried not to sound too hostile, though her silence only seemed to rile you up. You liked her previous silence, now she was just seeming too mysterious for you liking. 

The girl simply blinked at you as she tilted her head to the side, admiring you as the soft hue of the plants reflected off your dark blue skin. She took in every single freckle that was on your body before looking back into your eyes. You observed carefully as she brought one of her hands between the both of you, pulling her hand into a fist apart from her index finger. She crooked her finger for it to resemble a hook before reaching out a hastily grabbing yours. 

You were taken aback at first from her suffen contact, but you were even more confused when she motioned for you to do the same gesture. So when you did, she hooked both of your fingers together. You looked at your entwined fingers before it hit you. 

The girl was mute. That’s why she had not once spoken to you ever since you had first met her. 

“What does this mean?” you question, even through the communication barrier, you wished to understand her. Eventually you wished to understand why she had followed you here, but you’d take what you’d get for now. You looked back at the girl as she pointed towards her chest, before moving it to yours. Trying to sign to you something.

“Friends? That’s what you’re trying to say, that we’re friends?” You beamed at her and she reciprocated your excitement. You were proud of yourself for understanding her vague explanation. 

“It must be hard that no one understands you,” you said and even though you did not mean to make her sad, her face fell slightly at your comment. You raised your eyebrows slightly, scared to have truly offended her. So you tried to comfort her.  “I know what you feel like.” 

She smiled softly at you before you thought of something once more, you did not know of her name yet. Though the communication barrier between the both of you stood too tall for you to even try and guess her name for now, there were just too many. Na’vi people had no written language, so unless you learnt sign language, you would never get to understand. You knew that you could probably meet her family, and if there was a chance that they too did not suffer from the curse of mutism, then they could tell you. 

Though you feared that her parents disliked you like the rest of the clan, so you stick with trying with her first. 

“Why did you follow me here?” 

“I have something important to tell you. About what happened with the chief's youngest daughter.” she signed to you but to no avail as you failed to understand her way of communicating. You felt as conflicted as the first time you had begun to learn the na’vi language. Though you were just as motivated to learn as when you had learned the native tongue of Pandora. So that night, you had stayed up during all of eclipse to learn her way, suffering through the endless back head slaps each time you would get something wrong. 

-

You had finally parted from Zuko, the mute girl that had become your best friend throughout the last two weeks that you had disappeared from the clan. She had taught you how to sign and she had joined you during dinner time every single day. You have laughed with her, even if no noise was coming from her side, you still enjoyed the fact that she was somewhat laughing. 

You had learnt so much about the girl in such little time. You had learnt that she had little friends because of her disability, that little people saw her. Though you saw her, and that was perhaps why she had chosen to help you. She was so shy that if she even had the ability to speak, she probably would avoid it at any time.  

Your feet hadn’t taken you much further than you had actually wanted them to, mostly because your path had been interrupted by a sudden predator. Just when you thought your day couldn’t go any shittier, you just had to encounter a hungry viperwolf while you were taking in the beauty of the place that surrounded you. 

You watched carefully as the wolf circled you and your tail tensed as you picked up on its soft growl. You knew that if you went back home to the lab tonight, it would probably be a farewell to your avatar body. Though it wouldn’t really matter if you died in your avatar tonight, Norm had told you that the experience wasn’t necessarily pleasant, and you didn’t feel like going through the feeling of death and ‘reincarnation’ of some sorts. 

You slowly backed away as the wolf approached you, silent paws marking the ground at its every move. You were scared, even terrified because as much as you didn’t want to kill the animal, you had no weapon to defend yourself anyways. Your eyes widened as you had noticed it, the slight limp from his left back leg. 

The creature growled everytime that it applied pressure to the sore spot, and soon it had stopped before you. It whined in pleas of help and your heart did a double take at the poor creature’s suffering. You kneaded down before the blue-ish viperwolf and its whole body shone within the iridescent colours of the body of plants surrounding you. 

It lifted its paw before you, using its 6 frontal ones to support its lanky body. You sighed at its problem, just an unlucky piece of wood that had stashed its way between his paw pads. Your hands worked quickly as you removed the splinter, because just about anything could anger a wild creature, even if you had not even caused it’s hurting. 

To your surprise, after your little play pretend of ‘vet and patient’ with the wolf, it gratefully rubbed itself against your bended legs. It reached up to your knees and rubbed its snout happily against your tall knee caps. You chuckled at the creature's relief and it soon set off under the soft twinkles of the many shinning stars. 

The encounter made you forget about the whole altercation of earlier, instead you were more focused on exploring more of Pandora’s beauty once more. Your legs brought you to a nearby lake as you watched flying fish erupt from the busy current. You had always thought that flying fish were only to be seen in saltwater bodies, but this incredible planet had truly proved you wrong. 

You continued to watch the various fish jump out of the water, their luminescent wings glowing of all sorts of colours. Your mouth was wide open as though a child in stages of first discovery but you couldn't care less in the solitude that you now stood in. 

The bushes beside you rustled but you were too enamoured by the fish to be bothered by it, you assumed that it must’ve been the viperwolf of earlier and you deemed him a good friend now. Your yellow eyes glistened as you outstretched one of your arms towards the body of water, submerging one completely under the water. It didn’t take much time for the swarm of fish to reach for your hand, their tiny mouths tickling your hand as they tried to nibble at it. 

The sensation made you giggle, a little too loud at that but the sound didn’t seem to have disturbed much of the animals around you. 

Suddenly, you felt the feeling of a familiar hand upon your shoulder - and the feeling resembled too much of what Tarsem’s harsh held felt like earlier. You quickly turned around, pulling your hand out involuntarily swiftly out of the river and onto your side as you tried to look at what had touched you. 

The fish quickly swam away from fear of your sudden movements and your heart quickly fell down to your toes as you were met nose to nose with the boy that had wounded you. 

“You have a connection with the All-Mother,” he pointed out, his soft yellow eyes staring deep into yours. Though you were not looking back at him as you forced yourself to look away. You forced yourself not to submit to his soft tone and adoring eyes, because you had done it once and looked at where that brought you. It had been 2 weeks since he had last seen you, and somehow Eywa just had to make your paths cross once more. 

You ignored his attempts at talking and failed to notice the hurt look in his eyes as you avoided his words. Though you wouldn’t care, it’s not like he was deserving of your attention after how he had been treating you. You stood up, dusting your loincloth gently as you patted it down for any dust to go. Neteyam was quick to follow after you, already up and standing steady on his strong legs as he followed you around like a lost puppy. 

He watched as your hand gently grazed the vegetation with your large palm. You abruptly came to a stop before something you had never seen before and he watched with amused eyes as you wandered around a stray little lizard. A teasing smirk was displayed on his face as he watched you approach the Kenten. Before you could even reach your hand fully out to it, the small reptile jumped off from the leaf - scaring you as it suddenly escaped.

Neteyam chuckled softly from beside you as he watched you observe with amazement at how the lizard unfurled its fan-like structure. Your pupils dilated and your ears furled out completely as you watched the lizard with an opened-mouth expression. Neteyam just couldn’t keep his laughter in anymore as you suddenly stood up, brushing your hand against every single disguised lizard that you could find. 

They flew off and spun around like fully circular fans, and your amazed expression had not even faltered yet. Your smile was still glued to your face even when the lizards had retracted their fans back onto their frail bodies, and Neteyam just couldn’t take his eyes off how you looked right now. Your bioluminescent freckles just seemed to be extenuating your already blindsiding beauty. 

You picked up the pace again, running barefoot through the unstable forest with the na’vi man right at your trail. Ignoring his presence was hard, you'd admit that much to yourself. It was of your free will that you chose to ignore all of his advances and sort of his whole existence at the moment, but pretending like you did not want to run into his arms at the moment was rather hard. 

How could you not? After all Neteyam was perfect, he was the golden son, he was a noble amongst his clan, he had a secure spot as the future olo’eyktan and his family loved him unconditionally. Neteyam was smart, observant and swift with his movements, he was a valuable warrior. More of all, he was kind and he treated you like no other. He was attractive and you were just as sure that many other women thought of the same thing too. He was a man of manners but his own problems just had to ruin the happiness of his own. 

It wasn’t that hard to keep up to you, given his trained legs and impressive stamina. He could overtake you at any moment but now was not the moment to show off his physical abilities. You both ran through the forest for a couple of minutes, touching everything that you could on the short run. 

The Helicoradians had amazed you like nothing else had on the land, and it had soon become your entertainment for a few solid minutes.

Neteyam watched you carefully as though you were a child, not too fond of the stories he had heard of predators lurking behind those retracting plants. He allowed himself to remove his eyes from your figure as he admired the view. In the corner of his eyes, Neteyam had spotted an odd looking flower. 

A Sun Lily. It was strange because amongst the many other sun lilies that were rooted next to that one flower, they were all closed and rounded in shape. A singular flower stood out, its petals wide open and displaying its bloomed form despite the sun having left hours ago. He crouched next to the flower, using his thumb to rub gently against the soft petals of this weird flower. He picked it carefully, breaking the bond between its roots and its stem as he claimed the flower as his now. 

Neteyam turned back around to you, and to his surprise had you calmed down from your Helicoradian frenzy. You were sitting in the middle of the flower field, passing your hand through the delicate strands of grass below you. The grass felt spiky as it nipped at your skin, but you found it strangely comforting. He chuckled at your now downturned amusement before making his way towards you. 

At the sounds of his footsteps dragging through the mid length grass, you looked up only to be met with the sight of the Sully boy already kneeling before you. You quickly looked down at what was in his hand, and to your surprise he brought his hand up towards your face. He waited before to see if you showed any signs of resistance or displeasure, before bringing the flower’s stem behind your ear and tucking it in safely. 

You couldn’t help it. The many emotions that stirred in your stomach at his romantic action. The feeling of his fingers brushing against your skin made your shiver, for it had been so long that you had last felt it. You cursed yourself for the slight indigo colour that raised upon your cheeks, and quickly looked away from the person that had caused it. 

You didn’t want to feel this way towards him anymore. You wanted to truly hate him to the point where you were physically unable to look at him anymore. Thought love was an incredible thing, and you cursed yourself once more for your ability to feel. He was still looking at you with that fond look on his face, a soft glimmer of hope in his eyes at your passive form. 

You looked at him before remembering the conversation that Zuko and you had had a few weeks ago, and now you felt the urge to tell him. Because if you didn’t do it now for the sake of his little sister, there was no way for you to tell if you would still be communicating with him afterwards. 

For the first time in weeks and this night, Neteyam’s heart raced as you spoke to him. He lingered i’m the feeling of your soft lips moving to accentuate your words and he rejoiced in the sound of your voice. Though, what you had to tell him would soon make those feelings falter. 

“I have something to tell you, Neteyam.” 

-

taglist: @uwu-i-purple-you @love13tter @melsunshine @bratsukisworld @jyoungmom @ihonestlydontknowwhattonamethis @fanboyluvr @erenjaegerwifee @ashlatano7567 @laylasbunbunny @gabithefanwriter @alwaysandforever22 @jjkclub @koalalafications @doggyteam2028 @idktbhloley @saltedcoffeescotch @kikookii @a--1--1--3 @anxietydrogz @inluvwithneteyam @gabithefanwriter @arminsgfloll @doulcha @dreamergirljen @parrotpeggy @liyahsocorro @onetwo123three @neteyams-wifee @holysaladapricothero @jdbxws @wheeeelys @akemixmoon @lovedbychoi @neteyamsmate4life @supergalaxysworld

[cherriko-art]

Introducing my Coral Island sibling-duo farmers, Mili and Lu-Ran!

I switched character genders mid-game since I was too busy to start a 2nd save file, so now I headcanon'd that I have sibling farmers that run their farm together!

They're super close despite their large age-gap, and in my headcanon, they lived with their grandmother bc they're on non-speaking terms with their parents, who did not accept them coming out as queer (Mili as gay, Lu-Ran as nonbinary). They later moved from Pokyo to the island to start their own farm!

They each have their very different preferences that conveniently work out for splitting up farm duties.

Lu-Ran is more laid-back and quiet, and doesn't have much physical stamina. They're a big plant lover and nerd, so they take care of most of the plants on the farm, the accounting, and their spare time is spent in the library with Millie, or chilling with Raj or Ben. (I'd like to think of Raj and Lu-Ran as nonbinary besties). Lu-Ran enjoys foraging, fishing (but they suck at it) and diving. In-game, they're the one that has helped cure the sick corals by cleaning up the ocean. They cannot stand any bugs or insects other than butterflies.

Mili is super energetic and friendly, she talks a lot and is always on the move. She's a thicc girl but solidly built, so she's in charge of taking care of the livestock and building any farming structures/machines. She has a lot of courage and a thick skull, which equates to a female himbo. She thinks and lives simply. She loves ore mining and monster hunting and is part of the Band of Smiles. In-game, she's the one who is helping the Giants recover. In her spare time, she plays volleyball with Chaem and Aaliyah, hangs out with Scott in the mines or chills with Alice and Noah (she believes everything they say). The only thing she's capable of cooking is Bug Jerky and Candied Tree Seed.

[everywherenothere]

okay, so a couple of days ago i saw on the clock app this video of a jock and a obviously queer man living together and my brain went STEVE AND EDDIE OMG I NEED A FIC OF THIS and i know there is somewhere in the internet but i need to put into words so here it goes:

Robin loves Steve. And Steve loves Robin. They have been attatched to the hip since the mysterious accident that have burned the gigantic new mall and, subsocuently, the ice cream shop where they used to work. They have been living together since before Robin went to a college out of the little town they used to live (we all know Steve's parents were shit and probably being a teenager living alone, Robin's parents practically adopted him) and Steve without anything holding him back followed her.

Now, a couple years later, partners and one-night-stands came and went from their apartment because you cannot convince me those two dont have some kind of rizz. Steve with his bitchy attitude and jock alike body and Robin with her nerdy and charismatic energy have definetly bagged some people. One of them being the now-and-Robin-hope-for-a-very-long-time Robin's new girlfriend who the last two months has been living with them. And for sometime it was good, great even, but feeling like a third wheel most of the time Steve decided to move.

Apartment hunting was hard. Most places were way out of his budget or too small for a human to actually live comfortable and host dinners like he used to do when the now-not-so-kids visited him on the summer. So, he decided to search for a roomate. It was a little bit easier but to find someone who wasnt crazy and actually just mind their bussiness was a full job.

That's how he met Eddie. A nerdy metalhead who can and will up his bitchy attitude with a flirtatious response. And Steve absolutely loves it. At the beggining he tries so hard to convince himself that is just because he reminds him of Robin. That is just because both of them are a little bit smaller than him and nerdy. That is just because of the manerisms and the way they dont even flinch at his sarcastic and mean-girl-type of comments. That is just because both of them talked with passion about what they had been invested in the last couple of days.

But then is also the way Eddie always dress to impress and has a varierity of responses (and even actions) when people call him slurs without even letting those comments affect him.

And the way his eyes glows and do a little dance when he finally got one bridge right on a really difficult song that has been practicing the last couple of weeks.

And the way that he isnt a morning person but still wakes up earlier than Steve to make breakfast because he has learn that Steve bearly takes care of himself without a pressure of someone being dissapointed of him.

And the way both (Steve and Eddie) are on the couch on a Saturday evening watching nothing on the TV when Eddie starts talking his thoughts out. And of course, Steve being Steve cant help but tease him about something he said wrong and then it started: a back and forth of teasing and getting close as trying to prove a point. And when both are a hand away of breathing the same air, Steve realized. And Eddie purposly looked at Steve lips and get just a molecule closer just to see how Steve gets all red and backs down, of course Eddie laughs teasingly and walks to his room for a dictionary, leaving Steve all confused about wtf has happened. But Eddie's laugh continues to live on his ears and oh the way Eddie laughs.

Steve is pretty sure he is fucked up when he realized that he would do anything to make him laugh. And then Steve is also pretty sure that the friendship he has with Robin is one thing and the thing he has (or hope he has) with Eddie is another.

But that is one thought for another time, one existential crisis at the time, please.

[xxhispieceofheavenxx]

And I'll watch || Regulus Black

Summary: When their seventh year comes to an end, Regulus wants nothing more than to live his life with the woman he's loved for years by his side. Fate has different plans for him, despite his wishes.

CW: angst, mentions of suicide (very brief), French!Regulus, depressed!Regulus, a hint of emotional abuse/dependency, just Regulus being very sad about life, sad Black!brothers talk because they are my boys that constantly hurt my heart and they deserve better than they ever got :(

Word count: 2k words

Hello!! I'm back with an angsty Regulus one-shot. I have to say, I'm not really good with angst, but I tried my best, and I think it came out quite well. I might have gotten a bit teary-eyed towards the end. This was requested, so I hope you liked it, anon! Thank you! Let me know what you think and on what wip I should focus on next!!

Request are open

Masterlist

Regulus watches on as a stampede of students moves swiftly through the corridor. Everyone carries a smile, clearly elated that their seventh year has come to an end. He sees people laughing and smiling as they hug their close friends; some look sad at the prospect of leaving the place they have been calling home for the last seven years but excited nonetheless.

He looks through the crowd, searching for her face. She is easy to spot for his watchful eyes. She stands off to the side, hugging one of her roommates, a big smile plastered on her face as her friend's tears wet her school robes. Even if he cannot hear her words, he knows what she is saying, reassuring words leaving her lips as she promises to keep in contact. Regulus waits for her to finish her goodbyes, a small smile on his own lips. He stays on his spot, even as his roommates and friends go over to him to say their goodbyes, exchanging pats on their backs.

She turns around in the sea of people looking for something, or rather someone. As soon as she locks eyes with his, a smile spreads on her face. Regulus returns it, excited at the mere prospect that she was looking for him. He raises his hand in a wave, beckoning her to get closer. She starts pushing through the crowd to get to his side.

A puff of air escapes her lips when she reaches him. "Ready to get out of here?" She smiles and grabs his hand, pulling him away before he can answer.

They make their way through the crowd until they reach the big entrance doors, where fewer people are gathered to say their goodbyes. Despite how easy it is to navigate around the small groups, she doesn't let go of his hand. Regulus smiles as he soothes her skin with his thumb.

Today is the last day of their life as students, a coming of age of sorts. They will no longer have to worry about homework or quidditch matches. It is easy to spot in the air how many mixed feelings there are, some happy, excited, others sad, perhaps even dreadful. Regulus feels invigorated; his life is about to change. It already is changing, and as he looks at the young woman holding his hand, he can feel the nerves rising through his chest and up his throat.

"Can you believe it's over?" Her voice calls out as they thread through the grass, leaving behind the noisy voices.

"It's weird, but yes, I can believe it." She picks up her pace, making both of them go faster, her goal to reach the Black Lake before anyone else.

"It's just… everything is going to be so different." She sighs, a mixture of dreaminess and doubt. "I mean, Pandora is engaged, Barty is ready to work with his dad at the Ministry, Susan is moving abroad… Everything is changing so fast."

"I know, but we knew it was coming."

"Yes. Doesn't make things less difficult, mostly when I don't know what I'm going to do now. My only option is going back to my parents and working at their shop, it seems."

"It's not your only option." His voice is soft as he stops in his tracks, letting go of her hand.

"What? Should we go and travel through Europe? Maybe you'll finally teach me some French." She stops a few steps ahead, turning to face him.

His face is solemn, an earnest look in his eyes. Regulus shakes his head, opening his mouth. No words seem to come out, his throat drying and his stomach flipping with nerves. The looks in his eyes, the hopeful, loving twinkle, must give him away as a knowing look takes over her features.

"No." She shakes her head as she moves backwards, turning to get away from him. "No."

"Please." His steps are quick as he catches up to her, getting in front so she cannot keep moving forwards. "You have to hear me out." His hands gesture to his chest. "I've loved you since the moment I saw you. You have to understand. I've tried to stop, to give you space, but it isn't working."

"No." She looks past him, trying to avoid his face, which has more emotion displayed on it than ever.

"Please. I've done everything. I've tried to let you know many times. But, but you wouldn't let me, which is fine." Her gaze turns to the floor as his voice fills with even more emotion. "Please, I just need you to consider it. Just once, please."

"Stop, please." Her voice is almost inaudible.

"I've done everything. I've worked so hard so you would see me. I've changed so much for you, which is fine, I'm happy I did." His knees start bending, trying to get her to look into his eyes. "And I did everything because… because I figured you'll love me." Her eyes close as if she is feeling pain from his words. "And I know, I know I'm not good enough, and I'll never be this wonderful man of-"

"Yes, you are. Reggie, you're a wonderful guy, too good for me." Her eyes look directly at his, her hand grabbing his arm, bringing him close. "And I wish that I could love you the way you want me to, but I just-. I can't."

"Yes, you can." His voice wobbles as the tears pool in his eyes, threatening to fall. "You can." It's just a whisper.

"I can't change how I feel."

Regulus turns his face, looking towards the floor, avoiding her eyes. His lips parted, ragged breathing as if she had just knocked the air out of him. In a way she has; he has imagined this day, this moment thousands of times and even when she said no in his thoughts, he never felt like this. He never felt the sharp pain in his chest, the way his throat is closing on him, how his tears are almost spilling down his face as the woman he wishes to spend the rest of his life with crushes his dreams.

"I can't do it, Reggie. I'm so sorry." Her voice is a whisper, emotion taking over her as she tightens her grip on his arm. "I'm so, so sorry, Reggie."

He takes a deep breath and steps back, needing to create distance between them. Needing to breathe anything other than the lingering scent of her shampoo on her hair.

"I can't love anyone else. I only love you." His voice is monotone, the words feeling foreign in his mouth.

"Reggie…" His eyes don't meet hers, he can't bring himself to do so. "We'd make a horrible couple. We-"

"No, we wouldn't. It would be-"

"We would be a disaster, Re-"

"We wouldn't be a disaster, we would-"

"I tried! Reggie, I tried and I can't." She raises her voice, making his words die in his throat.

He finally meets her eyes. They shine with intensity and love, just not the love he wishes she felt for him.

"Then why does everyone expect it?" New emotions make his voice louder. "Evan expects it, Barty expects it, Pandora; everyone expects it!" His hand extends to grab hers. "Say yes and let's be happy." Her hand moves out of his reach, she steps closer and grabs his arms.

"I can say yes, truly, so I'm not going to say it." He gets closer to her face, wanting to touch her lip with his but not doing so. "And you'll see that I'm right eventually, and you'll thank me for not saying yes."

Regulus steps away, momentarily looking at her. "I'll be dead before I thank you for it."

"Reggie." She steps closer, trying to grab at him once again.

"I'll kill myself before that happens."

"Reggie, don't say that!" She watches as he walks away. "Reggie." She starts walking, trying to catch up to him. "Reggie! Listen, you'll find someone." She reaches his back, putting her hand there, taking hold of his hand. He swiftly brushes her off. "You'll find a lovely, pure-blood woman, that your parents will approve of. And she will adore you." She keeps her pace with his. "And she will make the perfect wife and mother, and daughter-in-law. She'll be everything I could never be!"

"Yes, you could." He stops and turns to her. "You could."

"Look at me! I'm awkward-"

"I love you."

"And I'm not a pure-blood-"

"I love you."

"I'm weird and you would be ashamed of me,-"

"I love you."

"We would fight constantly, I could never meet your parents' expectations." She reaches closer to him, pointing to her chest. "I'd hate elegant society." She points her finger at his. "You'd hate that I don't fit in. And we would be unhappy, and we would wish that we had never done it and everything would be horrible." She pants as her words die. Regulus' jaw ticks as he looks up from the floor.

His lips wobble.

"Anything else?"

"No, nothing else."

"Alright." His voice is breathy and defeated as he turns away from her once more.

"Except that," He turns back around, nodding to her with his face tight. She pauses, looking around before she meets his eyes again. "I don't believe I was made to be in love." He pushes out a breath. "I'm happy as I am. I love living in my own little world too much to give it up."

"I think you're wrong about that."

"No."

"I think you'll find love. I think you'll find a man that you want to share your world with, and you'll love him with everything in you because that's the way you do things." He pauses. "And I'll watch." A stubborn tear finally runs down his cheek.

Regulus turns around, defeated, and continues to walk away from her. She stays, watching his back get further and further away from her. Both of their happiness stripped away with just a conversation. Her frame falls to the floor with a thud, curling her legs into herself as she cries sour tears.

With quick steps, he marches back into the castle and down the stair to the Slytherin dorm. He gathers his belongings that he packed the night before, when he was still hopeful. Before his life came crashing down, before his dreams of twinkling eyes and beautiful smiles turned into nightmares. Everything is his fault, he knows. She has never owed him anything, and she doesn't now either. She has happily given him her friendship for years; that should be enough for him. But it is not. Nothing that she could ever give him would be enough for him, he realises. Because Regulus knows that she, no matter how hard he tried, would never allow him into her dreams and passions. The knowledge of it doesn't take away the pain.

[unbidden-yidden-deactivated20240]

So here I am, unable to sleep again, because of the horrifying attack on Israel.

The stories keep coming out and for every new detail I find out, another part of my soul shatters.

[***massive trigger warning for the rest***]

I feel like I'm living in a parallel world to everyone who is not affected by this situation. It's been surreal to go about my work day and regular life as if the images of blood-soaked cradles, burned corpses, raped and wounded women, captives of all ages being taken away on vehicles, video of a small child being taunted for crying for his mother, body bags lined up in rows on the ground, torched cars and homes, and the raw grief of the surviving family members aren't burned onto the backs of my eyelids.

One account I read from a family member of the deceased was that she was beaten, raped in multiple ways and sticks shoved into each place, and left for dead. Another I came across spoke of a small child being forced to watch his parents tortured, killed, and hacked apart. Still another I saw was a report of several children bludgeoned to death so as not to "waste the bullets."

How can I possibly begin to process this?

These people look just like the people in my communities and the friends I've made across the sea. They have my Hebrew teacher's hair, my rabbi's cheekbones, they sound like the shinshinim kids we have each year. They look like the baby nephews of my fellow congregants. I could have davened next to any of them and never known. It is only sheer dumb luck that I don't personally know someone who has died or lost close family.

There has been a pit of dread in my stomach since Shimini Atzeret that will not go away. I find myself on the verge of tears at all times, yet have not been able to actually cry (which is not a good sign; an inability to express sadness in tears is a known post-trauma response for me) and I cannot rest normally. Sometimes I can distract myself for a bit, but the pain and grief rush back in immediately when I remember.

I can feel, in real time, this Jewish cultural trauma sinking into my bones.

And you might think I might be able to separate myself from it since I'm not there and don't have family there. But I can't, because I don't want to. I can't, because some tether bound me forever to the land as soon as my feet hit the ground there, and some part of my soul stayed behind when I left. I don't want to, because these are my people and so they are my adoptive family, even if I do not know them. I am my brother's keeper.

And so here I stand, half a world away from the danger, nervous and scared and grieving, searching our perfectly blue sky for signs of missiles that are not falling here and being startled constantly by the normal and unbroken landscape. The lush beauty of Midwestern autumn woods is juxtaposed in my mind with Middle Eastern walls painted in the blood of my people and their broken bodies beneath them. I see it in the waking light of day as clear as anything in front of me, and walk around like a person divided, in both places at once yet not being fully present in either. I cannot unsee it.

How can I possibly explain this? To myself? To the people actually having to live this nightmare? To the other people removed from the immediate physical danger but who do have blood relatives and/or other family there that they're just praying stay safe and come home at the end of the day? That they are constantly checking their phones for updates or even minimal signs that they're still alive?

The words fail me, but I the closest thing I have to an answer is love. I love my people and I would rather absorb this pain with them and carry it in my soul forever than look away from Jewish suffering. That is a promise I made by joining this people, that my fate would forever be bound up in the collective fate of klal Yisrael. Wherever you go, I will go; wherever you stay, I will stay; your people shall be my people, and your G-d my G-d. Where you die, I will die, and there I will be buried. Thus and more may Hashem do to me if anything but death parts me from you.

אַל־תִּפְגְּעִי־בִ֔י לְעׇזְבֵ֖ךְ לָשׁ֣וּב מֵאַחֲרָ֑יִךְ כִּ֠י אֶל־אֲשֶׁ֨ר תֵּלְכִ֜י אֵלֵ֗ךְ וּבַאֲשֶׁ֤ר תָּלִ֙ינִי֙ אָלִ֔ין עַמֵּ֣ךְ עַמִּ֔י וֵאלֹהַ֖יִךְ אֱלֹהָֽי׃ בַּאֲשֶׁ֤ר תָּמ֙וּתִי֙ אָמ֔וּת וְשָׁ֖ם אֶקָּבֵ֑ר כֹּה֩ יַעֲשֶׂ֨ה יְהֹוָ֥ה לִי֙ וְכֹ֣ה יוֹסִ֔יף כִּ֣י הַמָּ֔וֶת יַפְרִ֖יד בֵּינִ֥י וּבֵינֵֽךְ׃

[רות א]

I do not take that lightly, and I feel it in my bones. Some core part of me shattered at the same time as the rest of my community.

I cannot, and I will not look away. I will not close my heart or shield myself from this tragedy. And I will not forget.

עַ֥ל נַהֲר֨וֹת ׀ בָּבֶ֗ל שָׁ֣ם יָ֭שַׁבְנוּ גַּם־בָּכִ֑ינוּ בְּ֝זׇכְרֵ֗נוּ אֶת־צִיּֽוֹן׃ עַֽל־עֲרָבִ֥ים בְּתוֹכָ֑הּ תָּ֝לִ֗ינוּ כִּנֹּרוֹתֵֽינוּ׃ כִּ֤י שָׁ֨ם שְֽׁאֵל֪וּנוּ שׁוֹבֵ֡ינוּ דִּבְרֵי־שִׁ֭יר וְתוֹלָלֵ֣ינוּ שִׂמְחָ֑ה שִׁ֥ירוּ לָ֝֗נוּ מִשִּׁ֥יר צִיּֽוֹן׃ אֵ֗יךְ נָשִׁ֥יר אֶת־שִׁיר־יְהֹוָ֑ה עַ֝֗ל אַדְמַ֥ת נֵכָֽר׃ אִֽם־אֶשְׁכָּחֵ֥ךְ יְֽרוּשָׁלָ֗͏ִם תִּשְׁכַּ֥ח יְמִינִֽי׃ תִּדְבַּֽק־לְשׁוֹנִ֨י ׀ לְחִכִּי֮ אִם־לֹ֢א אֶ֫זְכְּרֵ֥כִי אִם־לֹ֣א אַ֭עֲלֶה אֶת־יְרוּשָׁלַ֑͏ִם עַ֝֗ל רֹ֣אשׁ שִׂמְחָתִֽי׃

[תהלים קלז]

[iguana-eyanna]

To Miss Laurant... Pt. 3

Pairing: Lord Alfred Debling x Reader

Summary: What happens when two souls who had not found love find it within each other?

a/n: very STEAMY, longing, pinning, and smut

Lord Debling stands in front of the Bridgerton estate, unsure if he should fall through with this.

'No, I have to... for her.' Alfred thought as he knocked on the door.

He knocked on the door, too late to realize that it has been past midnight and not realizing it was past midnight. Soon, the door opened and Alfred saw a tired Colin who's eyes were sunken and shirt untucked.

"You're awake?" Lord Debling asks, shocked.

"My son begun teething. I was all up night trying to lull him to sleep. But I think I should be the one asking why are you here at my doorstep in this ungodly hour?"

Lord Debling bows his head then rises to meet Colin in the eye, pushing away his pride.

"I need your help uniting a family again."

Colin brought Alfred in his study as the two decided to share a drink.

"So let me understand: Miss Laurant has family in Paris and you need my help to find them."

"I'm in no condition to travel alone, and you know the city better than me. I have the address here in this letter." Alfred said, taking the letter he took from you by mistake.

Colin reads it, thinking where the address seemed familiar.

"This is is near the grand opera house."

"Yes, her family lives just by. Please, I need you to consider helping me. I know we were at odds before, but I need to do this."

Colin was about to answer until there was a knock on the door.

"Colin, you weren't in bed, is everything alright?" Penelope asks, opening the door to see him and Alfred.

"Lord Debling... it is good to see you again." Penelope said hesitantly, but bowing in respect.

"It is good to see you too, Lady Bridgerton, or rather say Lady Whistledown?" He asks, showing into a slight smirk.

Penelope chuckles tiredly. "I apologize for writing about you."

"It is all water under the bridge. I do apologize for intruding your home, but there is something of importance that has brought my presence tonight."

Penelope comes over and sees the letter and reads it.

"Miss Laurant cannot reunite with her son? My heart goes out to her." She said.

"With your blessing, I've asked Colin if we may travel to France and find the-"

"Does she know you are doing this for her?" Penelope asks.

"Well, no." Alfred said.

Penelope gently places the letter down and looks at Alfred.

"Lord Debling, if I may speak freely, a woman who has tirelessly worked day and night to accomplish the impossible, and have a man swoop in to take all of her credit: doesn't it seem so... medieval?"

Alfred was about to answer, but he thought of how you did in fact worked years to build your family a new home. He would throw away all of your days work.

Penelope looks over at her husband, sharing the guilt.

"And you, were you actually considering traveling all the way to France while our son needs both his parents?"

Colin starts stammering, trying to find some support from Alfred but he could partake in defending his past cause.

"It seemed, like a grand gesture." Colin mustered out.

Penelope mutters under her breath and looked at both men.

"My Lord, we will help Miss Laurant as best we can. But if you device a better plan, I hope you will talk with her before setting any action. Now if you please, I'd like for my husband and I to take rest."

"Of course, thank you Penelope. And congratulations for the two of you. Farewell." Lord Debling leaves the study quickly to go back to his estate.

Penelope goes to Colin who was sitting by his desk and sits by his lap as he holds her closely.

"I was not too harsh on him, was I?" Penelope asks.

"No, it was the right thing to tell him. You were perfect." Colin kissed Penelope's temple.

Penelope combs through Colin's hair and looked back at where Lord Debling left.

"Well one thing is for sure, he must love this woman to move the heavens and earth."

+

Dear mother and father....

You stopped writing, not knowing what to write as you sat by a table with the drying ink and the quill that felt heavy in your hand.

You crumbled the paper and inhaled sharply, covering your face in shame.

"If you crumble one more paper, I'll have to start charging you. They don't come cheap anymore, you know."

You turn around and see Lady Danbury walking towards you as you sat in her spacious study as the sunlight poured in the room.

"My apologies, I'm feeling slight frustration sending a letter back home." You said as she took a seat next to you.

Lady Danbury places a comforting hand by your hand,trying to lift your spirits last night. You came back to the dinner, crying and unable to form a full sentence. Violet Bridgerton did her best to calm your tears as they guided you back to your room where you admitted the truth of why you came to Mayfair. They never shown one ounce of dismay, but felt empathy.

"I try so hard to protect my family, but I often feel as if I'm not a mother to my own son."

Lady Danbury sits next to you with a stern look.

"A lady never squabbles her own troubles. She solves them with her own wit and morals. I understand you must feel as if the world is turning too fast but that is the card you are dealt with. You can either fold or place all your bets in."

"T-Thank you, Lady Danbury. That's what I needed." You said, turning back at your letter, about to write.

"Oh, before you begin, I wanted to personally give you this." She offers you a note.

You take it cautiously and open the letter, reading its contents.

To Miss Laurant, I apologize for my ghastly actions the past night. I am not known to have my emotions get the best of me. I humbly ask for your presence tonight at the Debling Manor where I may host a special meal for just the two of us as a token of good will. If you do not arrive by the evening, I will understand. Sincerely yours, Alfred Debling

You look back at Lady Danbury as she had a knowing look on her face.

"Lady Danbury, if a woman is to be called on to a Lord's manor unattended..."

"I won't tell dear, you are an adult. What do you singers call it? 'Go and face the music?'" She asks out loud, turning away so you may choose whether to leave the note be or take action.

You sit alone with your thoughts, certain what you must do.

+

You arrived nervously at the manor, realizing you must be an hour early.

"He's your friend, nothing more." You muttered to yourself before knocking the door with the door knocker.

In a moment, an older gentleman opens the door for you.

"Miss Laurant, I presume? I am Burford, Lord Debling's head servant." He asks.

"Yes. I apologize if I may be early for dinner."

"Not to worry, Lord Debling is out in the field. Come, I shall escort you to him."

You walked inside the space filled manor. You see how many old artifacts and eccentric plants that were filled in each hall. You also noticed that there were barely any family painted portraits that were by the walls that you were used in seeing in other manors.

Soon, you were lead on the outside field that was stretched on for acres and a farm.

"Where is Lord Debling?" You ask, looking around.

"Oh, he's riding his steed. He's been out of practice for sometime. Ah, there he is." he points out.

You squint in the distance until your eyes widen, seeing Alfred riding on a brown mane. His shirt was open around his neck, as you saw his alabaster chest that was decorated by blonde hair.

He slows down his pace, realizing he had company. He then jumps down, petting his horse and then guiding them to meet you by the yard.

"Miss Durant, I was not expecting your company so early. Apologies on my appearance." He said gently.

"No! Um. No, my apologies for- arriving so soon." You said, feeling your cheeks blush.

You dared to step forward and admire the horse Alfred was holding.

"Their beautiful, what is there name?" You ask, admiring at the horse's beautiful brown coat and the black mane.

"Athena, after the goddess of wisdom. I saved her after from her previous owners. They almost shot her when she was injured. I couldn't live with myself if I didn't intervene."

"That's remarkable." You said, not truly realizing how Lord Debling would go at great lengths to save innocent creatures.

"Here, pet her here. Not too close to her face. It will startle her." Alfred guides your hand by her neck as his big calloused hand was hovering yours.

"My Lord, may I ask the chefs to prepare for dinner?" Buford asks.

"Oh, yes Buford. I'll have Miss Laurant accompany me to the stables."

Buford nods his head and Alfred leads you with Athena back to the stables.

"How many animals do you save?" You ask.

Alfred gives a heartful chuckle.

"As much as I can. But, I dare not to take indigenous creatures like the Amazonian birds or antelopes from Africa back here. They belong to their country and to their people. I just try to right the wrongs from hunters or poachers. Those barbarians..." He said with spite.

But, he did not allow his anger best him as he settled Athena into her stable. You saw a softer side of him, as he made sure he executed every detail perfectly so she can be calm and safe.

After he stabilized the gate, he walked you back to the outside part of the manor where a small table was set by candlelight.

"I hope you don't mind if we may dine outside. I am embarassed that I had not had the time to focus rebranding the manor."

"No, this is... very thoughtful of you." You said, looking at how intimate the table was set and how the table wasn't big in length, enjoying how closely you two shall sit.

He guides you to the chair and pushes you in as he sat beside you.

Two servants come with two plates and placed it between you two, accompanied with a glass of wine. Soon, you and the Lord were deep in conversation, and then with enough wine, you two were laughing to your hearts content.

Now, he was trying to converse with you in French, but his phrasing was horrible.

"Stop! Please, my ears are shriveled in pain." You said, taking a sip of your glass.

"Alright. But do enlighten me on a lesson. I was a great student in my youth." He swears.

"If it stops you from butchering the language of love, then yes. Repeat after me: Merci."

"Merci."

"Rêvasser"

"Rêvasser"

You pause for a moment, looking at his lips then back at his eyes that twinkled in the night.

He was silent as well, as he leans forward as you were the only ones that were here in this moment.

"There was a phrase I've studied all morning, I hope that you may understand.

He coughs in his hand and looks back to you, muttering a simple phrase that had you breathless.

"Je t’adore"

I adore you

He awaits for your expression.

"I-I'm sorry if I spoke out of turn I-"

He stops midsentence as he felt your lips on his. He holds you closely, as his hands held you closely, afraid that he would wake up from this dream his mind has made.

He hopes he will never wake up.

He draws a breath and flutters his eyes open, seeing that you were still here in front of him.

He stands up and offers his hand, feeling his heart race.

"Would you like to come inside?"

Your lips parted slightly, but you nodded confidently as you took his hand. You two quietly walked inside, afraid to awaken his staff that were finishing their rounds. With just a few feet, you walked inside his chambers.

His room was simple. A large bed was by the middle of the room and his walls were painted a soft sage green. You locked the door behind you as you reunited with Alfred by the foot of the bed.

Your lips reunited, as your hands traveled around his body.

"Wait..." He said out of breath.

You look up at him, concerned as his face formed a thin line across his forehead.

"Is everything alright?" You ask.

He gulps loudly and takes both your hands into his.

"You have been wonderful. But I must confess something to you. I... never laid in bed with another."

You knit your eyebrows together until you realized what he meant.

"Oh, I see... if you want to stop now...."

He shakes his head no and comes closer to you.

"I want to, please. Show me how to make love to you."

You give him a soft smile and kissed him tenderly.

"Lie down... and take off your clothes slowly."

Alfred lies by the end of the bed, taking his shirt off his shoulders as you see his bare chest in the moonlight. He tries unbuckling his pants until you stop him.

"Wait... I want you to look at me."

He wasn't sure what you meant until you began to untie your corset lining from your dress. You slowly moved each garment off and Alfred looked almost, animalistic. All was left was a light linen garment that hung on your body.

You then crawled on top of him, finding your hands on his belt.

He gasps for air as his member throbs in his pants.

"Please... please." He begs, looking up to you.

"Uh uh.... a patient man will receive his reward soon." You said, seductively placing your finger by his chest, tracing patterns on his skin like sand.

You move back and forth slowly on his clothed self as you hear whimpers beneath you. He holds you steady by your hips as you tease him so.

"Now, will you be a good boy for me?"

He could only nod his head yes as he felt all the blood rushing from his body.

Soon, you shifted downward and freed his member from its prison, gazing at it as it stood tall like a mountain.

"Is it... enough for you?" He asks shyly.

"Alfred... you're wonderful." You said, admiring him.

Now it was his turn to blush as his hands held you firmly by your waist.

"Lift me up a bit, and I shall do the rest."

He did as he was told and lifted you mid air as you lined yourself into him. You gasp loudly, then covering your mouth before anyone could hear you scream.

"What is wrong?" He asks worringly.

"Nothing... it's supposed to hurt the first time. Just keep a steady pace."

You sunk further in and moaned silently as you placed your cold hands by his warm chest. He felt your walls closing in as he gasped for air.

Both of your paces began to fasten as you two felt like the room was heating like a wild fire. His hands left your hips and his absecnce was missed until you feel him sitting up, finding the neckline of your dress and ripped it apart, like a hound finding flesh.

His lips found your neck as kisses it profusely and your hands get lost in his golden hair. Soon, you see his lips latching onto your left breast, swirling his tongue around your bud.

"Oh, Alfred!" You whispered into his ear as your pleasure rises to the top.

Both of you felt your climax in sync as your mouth hung open , drawing in a cold breath. A hand cradles the back of your head and Alfred connects his forehead to yours.

"Yours.... I am yours." he whispered, trying to find your lips as they would soon reconnect.

You don't know how long you felt him in you until both of you found your backs laid in the bed and had him pull his member out slowly as you moan in slight despair and relief.

His arms wrapped around you protectively as his head rested by your bosom, feeling your heart race for him.

"Are you sure.... You never done that before?" You ask him.

He chuckles lightly as he shifts upward to see you face to face.

"It was my first. Thank you." He says, kissing your shoulder as it sent shivers down your spine.

Alfred took that as a signal and brought the covers over your naked forms as you placed your arms across his chest.

"If you need me to leave in the morning, I don't mind. I don't want whispers spreading of our entanglement."

"Nonsense, I will take care of everything in the morning. You can stay here... only if you want to."

You nod slowly as you flutter your eyes, feeling slumber cascade over your body.

Alfred looks up at the ceiling, feeling tightness pull in his heart. What would his staff say when they see you sharing his bed before marriage? How can he tell you that he would do whatever it takes to bring your family here in Mayfair? Where in time can he establish you as more than a friend?

His racing thoughts stopped as you stirred in your sleep, keeping yourself closer in his arms.

He holds you tightly and kisses your head as he found peace in the night, only wanting to protect you from the world.

And hopefully, one day, to ask you to be his.

[yourlocaldisneyvillain]

wip whenever ♥

thank you @allaganexarch for the tag!!! i exit the Void(TM) to shove my horny larissa content at the general public :)))

if anyone's interested in my jane murdstone dominatrix fic and would like to read about larissa weems getting caned, i guess this wip is for you!

tagging: @dianneking @notinmyvocab @the-frankenman-writes + whoever wants to do this consider yourself tagged!

“Are you ashamed of yourself, Miss Weems?” she asks as she walks around the desk. Larissa keeps stealing glances at her as she walks, unsure and shaking with the thrill of it all. 

Jane stands in front of her. “Well?” she asks again, coldly. “Do answer me.”

Larissa closes her eyes, swallows, then opens them again. “Yes,” she utters softly, staring in front of herself.

Jane sighs and tuts. She puts one finger under Larissa’s chin, urging her to tilt her head and look at her. “Miss Weems,” she starts, almost gentle now. “I’m aware girls your age are wont to… experiment. However, the school simply cannot encourage such inappropriate behaviour. You ought to know better.”

Larissa’s voice is but a whisper. “Yes, Miss.” 

“You were always such a well behaved pupil. I must say, I’m very disappointed in you.”

Tears well up in Larissa’s big, blue eyes. She nods. “Yes, Miss.”

“I can tell you’re very remorseful about it – but you’ll still have to receive a punishment. It is a grave offence, after all. That will be seven strokes of the cane.”

“Yes, Miss,” she says, unable to hide the thrill in her voice, despite the tears. Jane fights the urge to snicker at her – she shouldn’t do that just yet. There will be time for it.

“But before I give out the punishment, I want you to tell me what compelled you to even think of doing something like that. Have you seen it somewhere?”

Larissa swallows thickly. “I saw… I have a…a magazine,” she stutters. “And we saw… pictures of… women… doing things. And we wanted… We wanted to try them.”

Jane makes a sound of fake surprise. “A magazine! And however did you come in possession of such an inappropriate item?”

“I bought it,” whispers Larissa, turning her gaze to the floor. 

“That is how you spend your parents’ money? My, my, Miss Weems. I never suspected you’d be such a dirty girl.”

“I’m sorry, Miss,” she mumbles, her face red with shame, but her eyes glaze over at what Jane just called her. 

“You should be sorry, alright. Honestly, who’d think such dirty thoughts could live in such a seemingly nice, polite girl’s head. I do worry about you, Miss Weems. I’m afraid I’ll have to change your punishment to match the severity of your misdemeanours. I want to make sure the idea of buying lesbian pornography never crosses your mind again.”

“Yes, Miss,” Larissa says, voice breathy and pupils dilated, her cheeks still red.

“That will be two weeks in detention, and no off-campus weekend this month,” says Jane matter-of-factly. “And I’m upping it to twenty strokes. Ten for the act, ten for possession of pornography.”

“Twenty?” exclaims Larissa. “But Miss–”

“There will be no arguing, Miss Weems,” she interrupts her sternly. “Skirt up. Bend over the desk.”

Larissa takes a step forward and slowly bends over the desk, lifting her skirt up, then leaning forward on her elbows. Jane can’t help but feel a pang of excitement when she sees her pale, round arse. She imagines how lovely it’ll look with red stripes all across it, how it’ll jiggle when the cane hits. She wonders if she should make Larissa remove the lovely, teal, lacy knickers she’s wearing. 

She decides she should.

“What’s that?” she asks harshly. 

“What, Miss?” asks Larissa, with her arse in the air, worry lacing her voice. 

“Those aren’t regulation knickers.”

Larissa’s breath hitches. “No, Miss.”

“Remove them. It’ll be a bare bottom caning. Not that that flimsy thing would provide much of a barrier anyway.”

Larissa quickly pulls her underwear down, eager to please.

“I want them fully off, not just out of the way. I’ll be confiscating those. A respectable girl has no business wearing such a thing.”

Larissa obediently slides the knickers down her long legs, and steps out of them. She leaves them on the floor and returns to her previous position on the desk. Jane bends down and takes them, inspecting them. 

“There’s a wet spot,” she says. “What am I supposed to make of that, hm?”

Larissa doesn’t respond.

“Do you find your punishment arousing, Miss Weems?”

Larissa shakes her head, gazing down into the desk.. “No, Miss.”

“Well, what is it then?”

“I don’t know, Miss.”

Jane scoffs and crumbles the knickers in her fist. “Of course you don’t. I didn’t know you were such a perverted girl. I do hope you’re ashamed of yourself.” She pauses. “Well, I can assure you you won’t enjoy the cane in the slightest. I hope it’ll make you reflect on your actions.”

“Yes, Miss.”

There is complete silence in the room as Jane goes to fetch the cane. She makes a show of it, walking slowly and deliberately, heels clacking with each step. She circles around the desk, lays out the soaked knickers on it, then walks over to the shelf, from which she takes a long cane with a curved handle – old school style, as she knows Larissa will appreciate the attention to detail. She turns around, and catches Larissa quickly bow her head down again – she’s clearly been staring at her as she walked. 

She caresses the cane as she walks back to Larissa. “I could see you staring at my backside, Miss Weems. Shameful, really. I hope to cane those sick thoughts out of your head for good. Maybe I should do more than twenty strikes.” 

“I’m sorry, Miss.”

Jane stands behind Larissa, caressing the cane, playing with it in her hands. She looks at Larissa’s cunt, bare and swollen, peeking between her buttocks as she leans forward. She enjoys the visual a lot. She briefly wonders if she could interest Larissa in pussy canings, and makes a mental note of it. She thinks Larissa would enjoy it – but she’ll save that for a different scene.

“Perhaps I should cane you all afternoon. How many sick thoughts must go through your head each day, I wonder. Do you stare at other girls in gym class? Clearly you go out of your way to corrupt your friends with sick ideas you got from looking at your lesbian magazines. What else do you do?”

She pauses, trying to think of how else to taunt her. “You know, I ought to call your parents. Wouldn't that be shameful? For everyone to know you sit in your dorm room at night, rubbing your soaked knickers to lesbian pornography?”

Larissa whimpers. Jane smiles. She seems to have hit a spot. 

“Depraved girl,” she tuts, and then, in one swift and expert move, she strikes her with the cane. Larissa yelps in surprise and pain. Before Larissa can recover, she strikes her another time. This time, Larissa only inhales sharply. Jane isn’t being very forceful, for Larissa isn’t warmed up yet – but even a light strike is enough to make her arse sting quite a bit. 

She lazily drags the cane along her stinging buttocks, letting her sweat in anticipation. She lightly taps, and Larissa flinches. Jane laughs at her, and Larissa whimpers. 

“That’s only two, Miss Weems. I want to make this last. You need time to reflect on your actions,” she says and strikes her quite a bit harder before she finishes the sentence. Larissa makes a strained sound and flinches. She’s breathing heavily and pressing her thighs firmly together. 

“Three,” says Jane nonchalantly. 

Silence, only filled with the sound of Larissa’s shaky breaths. She squirms, anticipating the next strike. Jane lets her stew.

After a minute or so, she strikes her again, hard. Larissa cries out and her muscles convulse, but she doesn’t move. 

“You’re taking it so well – one would think you were caned before,” says Jane with amusement in her voice. “Did your parents spank you a lot as a child?”

“Yes, Miss,” Larissa breathes out. 

“And what for? Were you often a naughty girl?”

“I don’t know, Miss. I often didn’t understand why they did it.”

“Well, that won’t do,” says Jane, dragging the cane over the two red stripes on her buttocks. Larissa sucks in a breath. “In order for the punishment to be effective, the offender must know what they did so they can correct the behaviour. Repeat it to me, Miss Weems; why are you being spanked?”

“Because I… I was caught–”

Jane strikes her again and Larissa yelps. “No, no, Miss Weems. You aren’t being punished because you got caught. You’re being punished because you did something you shouldn’t have done. Try again,” she says and strikes her another time. Larissa whimpers.

“I… I’m being punished because I kissed another girl, and I… we… we touched each other… inappropriately.”

“That’s it,” says Jane and strikes her hard. Larissa flinches and squeaks. “That’s six. What else have you done? You did earn twenty strikes, after all.”

“I… I bought p–” she tries saying it and fails.

“Come on,” Jane taunts her. “If you could look at it you can say it.”

Larissa takes a deep breath. Jane strikes her. She yelps. “I bought pornography,” she spits quickly and breathlessly, as if the whole sentence was one word. “With my parents’ money.”

“You did, you dirty girl.” Jane’s voice is flat and void of emotion as she says it, almost disinterested, for she knows that makes Larissa wild – how impersonal Jane can get. She strikes her one more time, harder than any of the previous strikes. Larissa lets out an embarrassing squeak. 

“Eight,” she says, and decides to make a longer pause before nine. She lazily drags the tip of the cane along Larissa’s long legs, starting above the ankles and going up. When she reaches the sweet spot where her thighs meet her buttocks, she – seemingly accidentally, but very much on purpose – lightly grazes the cane over her soaked cunt. Larissa whimpers and shudders. 

Jane finds it truly fascinating how wet a bit of humiliation and a few strikes of the cane can make her. She’s literally dripping down her thighs.

“Oh my,” she fakes a gasp. “What’s that?”

She lightly taps at her cunt, and Larissa whines. 

“Tsk, tsk, Miss Weems,” she tuts, “The situation appears to be graver than I imagined. I don’t think your punishment is working. In fact, I think you’re enjoying it. Am I right?”

Larissa shakes her head. “No, Miss.”

“You get another five strikes for lying.”

“Yes, Miss. Sorry, Miss,” Larissa whimpers into the desk, head buried in her elbows.

“It’s pathetic how depraved and sick you are, getting off to your Headmistress caning you. Perhaps I’ve been too gentle with you. Perhaps a more forceful caning will teach you a lesson.”

“Yes, Miss,” says Larissa breathlessly. “Forgive me, Miss.”

“You disgust me,” sneers Jane and swings the cane forcefully, hitting hard over the already glaring red stripes, making Larissa convulse and cry out. She strikes again, and then again, with the same amount of force, and Larissa cries out each time. 

She strikes her four more times. 

“Fifteen,” she says coldly. “I can’t believe you, Miss Weems. I thought you were a good, respectable girl. Your nice and wealthy parents sent you to a prestigious private school – and this is how you repay them? By being a perverted freak? By being found by a prefect with your head between another girl’s legs? By getting aroused by your punishment?”

Larissa presses her thighs together more firmly. “I’m really sorry, Miss. I’ve been so bad,” she whispers.

“I wonder, is it the punishment that arouses you… or is it the fact that I’m the one giving it to you? I saw you look at me, Miss Weems. It’s quite pathetic how attracted you are to a woman old enough to be your mother.”

Larissa whines and rubs her thighs together. “I’m sorry, Miss.”

Jane strikes her – hard – and Larissa keens. 

“I’m afraid sorry won’t cut it, Miss Weems. You deserve a caning after which you won’t be able to sit for weeks,” she says and strikes her again, and again and again, starting to get into a rhythm. Larissa twitches and whines pathetically with each strike, squirming and squeezing her thighs together. Her cunt is clenching along with her arsecheeks. Jane keeps striking her, and doesn’t stop when she reaches twenty-five strikes. 

“I’ve changed my mind,” she announces flatly as she keeps caning her. “It’ll be however many strikes I see fit for you.”

“Yes, Miss,” Larissa all but moans. She keeps squirming and twitching, but doesn’t move in a significant enough manner for Jane to reprimand her for it. 

Jane, however, notices the way she shudders, then relaxes, moaning quite a bit louder than before and pressing her forehead into the desk somewhere around number thirty-five. 

Jane scoffs incredulously. She knew Larissa needed little to come, but this was new even for her. 

“Did you just come from this?” she asks, trying her best to hide the amusement in her voice. 

Larissa whimpers pathetically into the desk. 

Jane strikes her. “I asked you something, Miss Weems,” she says sternly. 

Larissa nods into the desk, hiding her face between her elbows.

“I want words, girl.”

“Y-yes, Miss. I’m sorry, Miss,” she whispers barely audibly. 

Jane laughs. “You’re truly incorrigible. I’ve never had such a depraved girl bent over my desk. It seems like no matter what I do, you enjoy it. I could kick you in the face with my shoe and you’d thank me.”

“Yes, Miss. Sorry, Miss,” Larissa sobs. 

“In any case, I don’t think you’re learning a lesson. Perhaps the punishment didn’t go on for long enough. Or perhaps I’ve been too gentle.”

“Please, Miss, I– ah!” Larissa cries out when Jane strikes her quite hard just where her buttocks meet her thighs. 

“Do you lie in bed at night in your dorm room with your hand between your legs, thinking about your Headmistress? Have you imagined being caned like this for your own sick pleasure? Perhaps all of this has been a ploy to get yourself in this position?”

“No, Miss, please, please, ah! I’ll do better, I’m sorry!”

“You’re a disgrace. I’ll give you such a whipping you won’t even think about coming again. Dirty little dyke.”

Larissa whines at the insult. “Yes, Miss.”

“Say it. Say you’re a perverted dyke that rubs her pussy thinking about her Headmistress caning her.”

“I-I’m a perverted dyke that – ah! – rubs my p-pussy… ah! Thinking about my Headmistress caning me.”

“That’s right. And what are you sorry for?”

“I’m sorry for being a dirty girl, Miss. I’m sorry my pussy gets wet when you cane me – ugh, fuck!” she cries out after a particularly well-aimed, hard strike. 

“Language, Miss Weems, or I’ll wash your dirty mouth with soap.”

“Yes, Miss! Ah! I’m sorry, Miss!”

Jane keeps striking her, relentlessly and without pause. She can tell when Larissa enters a blissful state of being. Her eyes are closed and she’s no longer able to utter coherent words. A soft cry escapes her every time her muscles convulse when the cane touches her skin, a barely perceptive smile on her face. Jane admires the neat, angry red marks across her buttocks as gradually slows down her rhythm, decreasing the intensity of her swings, bringing Larissa down from her high. Soon, she is only lightly snapping the cane against her skin, dragging it along her buttocks, lightly tapping, until she eventually stops completely. 

Larissa’s eyes are still closed and she is breathing heavily. Jane lets her have a moment of silence. Eventually, Larissa opens her eyes and lifts her head a bit higher up, but she’s still supporting herself on the desk.

“I still feel floaty,” she breathes out.