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do you still write for Travis? i was kinda wondering if youd write a 18+ oneshot for him.. if not its ok too!

HELL YEAH I DO. Request anything you want, as long as its not NON CON or AGEPLAY

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If I had a nickel for every time Al Pacino was in a queer related film🙏🏾🙏🏾

Just finished “Cruising” it’s an unabashedly QUEER crime film that deals with murder, homophobia, violence against gay men…very heavy content material. In my opinion it displays the terror that queer people faced in an era where they were not protected. Great film over all. It had a slamming soundtrack.

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Can j request an al pacino imagine?

Hey, yeah. 🗣️🗣️🗣️Sorry it took so long to reply. Quick rule though: No scat, no Non Con

Side note: Any one can request an imagine

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𝘔𝘺 𝘞𝘦𝘪𝘳𝘥 𝘉𝘰𝘺 - 𝘛𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘴 𝘉𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦 𝘹 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

This is a re-upload, y'all.... this ain't nothing new... I just accidentally deleted it last year and I was seething trying to search for it for months⚠️🗣️🗣️

I love MY man, Travis. Hehe

There was never a day that you weren’t on Travis’s mind, it was often that he spent time thinking about you; by now it was his favorite pastime. Travis would think about you at work as he drove around the grimy parts of New York, you alone were his morale when the hours dragged on. 

If he was alone in the confines of his apartment you were almost always his first thought when he woke up and the last one before he went to bed. During his spouts of insomnia, he’d imagine your face, he’d picture your features. The sound of your voice was like a lullaby, one he’d use to lull himself to sleep.

To say Travis thought about you frequently was an understatement.

Today was no expectation. Today was particularly tedious for Travis, it was raining during his shift; heavy pellets of rain poured down on his taxi as he was parked by the curb. The sound of the rain was a hard pitter-patter; the rain seemed to silence the sounds of the city, blocking out the noise that Travis considered ugly, it was a silence he enjoyed, it was a silence that allowed him to be trapped in his own thoughts.

So, naturally, Travis had gotten to thinking about you. He began replaying the moments the both of you had shared in his head. His mind wandered to this morning. Both of you had risen early and met each other at your favorite diner to get breakfast. 

It was a brief meeting, neither you nor he had spoken much to each other as both of you were tired and hungry, but the moment offered a level of comfort. The both of you always enjoyed each other’s company; Travis, especially who cherished any moment no matter how fleeting it was.

As he thought about it now, he smiled to himself. He looked at his right hand, he could feel the tingle left over from when you had held it, squeezing it before you hurriedly rushed out of the diner for work.

Travis could still feel the softness of your hand, he could feel the warmth of your hand being transferred to his. He remembered feeling dizzy from the touch. He imagined every detail, the shape of your hand, the way your fingers bent to interlock with his slender ones. The firm grip of your hand left static in his body, a static that felt like tiny shocks. The static made his brain buzz, rendering him mute and incoherent for some time.

Travis would become such a mess at the slightest touch, no matter how brief or minuscule it was. He was so quick to lap up any affection you gave. 

To Travis these little moments were precious, he had never been touched so intimately before by someone who cared for him. He had been alone for so long and felt so empty for the majority of his life. He had bounced from place to place, never really fitting in, any friends he had were superficial; they never really knew him, and any woman he tried his chance with was freaked out by his intensity or weirdness, (somehow he hadn’t managed to creep you out too badly)

So to have someone like you was a great deal to Travis. He held you in high regard, he idolized you. To him, you were pure, angelic. You were HIS, and his alone. You were something that he felt he needed to protect, to guard against the ugliness of the city.

There were days it angered him that you had to go out there, into the city. It angered him that he not only had to share you but he feared something would happen to you, that he might lose you, or worse that the city would taint you, that one day the scum would pull you in.

If it were up to him he would keep you in his apartment, locked away, kept safe. But Travis knew you’d never be up to the idea... At first.  it would take some convincing. Perhaps he would have to use other methods, but he was sure you’d come around... Eventually.

But for now, he’d had other alternative ways of protecting you. Like silently watching you from your apartment in his taxi when he felt something off. He would be parked only a few miles away by the curb. 

Or He would stand outside the building you worked at, leering at you to make sure no one was giving you a hard time and no male employee was getting too close. 

Recently Travis had developed a habit of watching you when you stayed over at his apartment; either staring intensely at you when you were talking or when you were asleep beside him. 

Of course, you didn’t know about any of Travis’s habits and even if you did he would probably find a way to justify it.

Travis looked out the car window, the rain was sliding down, creating a blur of color and water. He exhaled, he had let his mind wander too much now. His thoughts were a mixture of anxiety and affection; all of which centered around you. He hoped the hours went by quickly, he hoped by the time he clocked off it was still raining, and that maybe tonight you might cuddle and listen to the rain together.

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If history has taught us anything.....

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𝐃𝐞𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

[REALISTIC!Coriolanus Snow x Reader]

Some of you bitches are delusional, I am too. I love all the fanfics I've been reading on the TBOSAS  side of tumblr. They make me giggle and twirl my butthole hairs while I lay in bed but I feel like being a hater today. BIBLICALLY ACCURATE CORIOLANUS

-You’re a student at the academy. You’re in one or two of  Coriolanus’s classes. 

-No, you don’t know him well  and even if you are in his group of friends, he’s not that close to you.

-He forgets your name or often mistakes you for another one of your classmates.

-You approach him. He doesn’t approach you.

-On the off chance he does approach you it’s for assignment or homework purposes.

- You follow him on all social media sites but he doesn’t follow you back. [If there is any type of social media or social media sites in Panem that is, probably not]

-He knows you like him. 

-If he’s feeling bored, he may look at you in class just to give you a false and fleeting sense hope. But most of the time he'd never bat an eye in your direction as he finds you extremely annoying. 

-Although, You’re not as annoying as Arachne to him.

-When the reaping rolls around and he first casts his eyes on Lucy Gray during the tribute allocation, you become non-existent to him. Not that you were in the first place Lmao. (You thought you were the main character, huh? Everyone point and laugh!)

-And yet, despite all this, if he were to call you to come over at 3AM on a random night during a hurricane, thunderstorm, fire, and earthquake, you'd still come crawling.

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Yes. This is the first thing I've uploaded in an entire year.

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Robert De Niro really said Black queens forever👸🏾✅Snow bunnies never 👧🏼❌😤

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Can you do a corleone family favourite movie headcanon?

This is so random😭 but I got you. (I didn't take this very seriously. I'm sorry)

Vito Corleone: His old ass unironically really enjoys this movie. His grandkids probably made him watch it, and he immediately liked the story and the music.

Carmela Corleone: Likes the story and the music and is a sucker for romantic movies. She's also a fan of Meryl Streep (has watched all her movies).

Sonny Corleone: Fucking loves this movie! (Has seen all three movies) Forces everybody he knows to watch it. His goofy ass is also the type to watch the movie once and think boxing is easy.

Tom Hagen: Tom likes to watch this movie in his free time. (cries every time)

Connie: Her marriage is in shambles so likes to watch a movie that resembles her life (but make it a musical💀) Also really likes dramatic shit.

Fredo: Lives vicariously through the characters. The movie helps him escape the sad reality of being the family's disappointment.

Michael: Michael's goofy ass watches this movie alone in his room with the lights turned off.

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I swear it's always the unemployed Tumblr users with the best Al Pacino fics😁💀 Their stories are the closest thing to Heaven that we'll ever get. And if they're not unemployed then English isn't their first language. I don't make the rules😢

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Fave queer film😁 🏳️‍🌈 (Bro took "be gay do crime" too literally💀)

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He’s a bit of an odd one, isn’t he? Travis Bickle x Reader (Random headcanons)

These are headcanons I believe to be true for Mr Bickle (I just like writing about him)

Travis often shows up to your house announced at random times, and when I say random, I mean Random!  Sometimes he’ll show up at 3 in the morning other times it’s 4 pm in the afternoon. It really just depends on how he feels that day.

Travis gets slightly jealous when you ride in any taxi that isn’t his.

There are days when Travis can go and on about a random topic and there are days when he says nothing and lets you do all the talking.

Travis likes to play with your hair.

Travis likes it when you play with his hair.

Travis has a difficulty understanding why you need friends when you have him.

Travis loves it when you cook for him.

Travis likes showing off his guns to you, he wants to teach you how to shoot.

Travis doesn’t like to think of you in a sexual way, don’t get me wrong he wants intimacy and the act of sex is desirable to him but he has some sort of complex towards the idea of sex and you. He believes that any sexual thoughts he has about you are impure or are tainting in some sort of way.

Travis once spent an entire hour counting the number of times you blinked while talking to him. You don’t know why he did it, you don’t know how he did it, nor did he ever specify why he did it, he just did it.

Travis once chased and caught a man who was following you home at night, while he himself was also following you home.

Travis likes it when it rains because “it’s washing the filth out of the city.” He also likes it because then you can cuddle at your apartment while listening to the rain.

Travis writes about you in his journal, ALOT

Travis would kill for you.

Travis has a goofy laugh.

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More Than Business- Michael Corleone x Reader

PROMPT: The reader is from a different crime family and she thinks he’s only marrying her for connections but he actually loves her.

Thank you @21witnokidz for the prompt.

WARNINGS: None, other than pretty shitty writing. (My cousin and I wrote this when we were drunk. Seriously guys this story is disjointed and weird. Sorry)

WORD COUNT: 3967 

There’s a moment where it hits you again; there it is that feeling of unease and formidable tension. It resurfaces in the silence, as you stare at Michael from across the room. You’re in his father’s office with him, he had whisked you away from the hectic party for a moment alone, a moment of brief intimacy. 

It was ironic the party was being thrown for the both of you but between the questions from the nosy aunts, cousins, and uncles, you and Michael had barely seen each other. And now even with your absence the party still raged on outside. Lively chatter and laughter could be heard from behind the office door, it was accompanied by the slow strum of a guitar and the sweet serenade of Italian songs.

Michael’s family and your family had congregated at the Corleone house. They had come toghether for a celebration of great measure, an engagement party; your engagement. Michael had proposed to you three months ago but had only announced your engagement two weeks ago. So naturally, a party had been thrown. Nearly everyone who knew your family and the Corleone family had turned up.

Don Corleone's house was littered with family, friends, politicians, and those alike, all of whose faces were twisted into smiles of great elation. In the parlor, the women sat, forming a small mother’s club where they caught up on gossip and talked about their children.

 Outside by the courtyard, the men congregated laughing as they took swigs of alcohol, downing drinks that they would definitely feel in the morning. And the kids were everywhere, they absolutely swarmed the place; you could only imagine what the rest of the Corleone house looked like.

It was a day of great joy… it was supposed to be. However, you couldn’t bring yourself to smile or even share the same level of excitement everybody had. It was your engagement party but you had never felt more restless and miserable.

Since the party had commenced a feeling of worry had been toiling in your stomach, which expanded the already deep chasm of doubt, that had managed to grow in size over the passing weeks.

What had started out as a silly afterthought, had now become a horrifying idea.

Is Michael using me?

In the last few months, a slew of thoughts had slipped their way into your subconscious, thoughts that made you question the intentions Michael had for asking for your hand in marriage.

Is Michael using me?

You shot a glance at Michael from your seat, retreating from your thoughts temporarily. He was by his father’s cabinet pouring himself a glass of whiskey. He noticed your prying gaze and met your eyes, he smiled at you warmly.

You smiled back, however, the smile didn’t reach your eyes. Instead, when you looked at Michael a pang of sadness hit you.

You fought the urge to frown as you thought back to the hushed business conversation Michael frequently had with your father after you had gotten engaged, you remembered the look of appraisal in his father, Vito’s, eyes when you were introduced to him as Michael’s fiancee. You remembered how surprised Tom looked when he registered your last name.

It had been right in front of you, all the signs were glaringly red.

Oh, God!

You tore your eyes away from Michael and looked down at your lap. In your lap sat your hands which you fiddled with uncontrollably.

How could I be so stupid? You thought bitterly. It all makes sense now.

Being the daughter of one of the wealthiest men in new york sometimes meant that men took interest in you for the wrong reasons. You also weren’t privy to your father’s business, which often attracted certain types of men.

You knew the ins and outs of your father’s business, the connections he had; connections that a family like Corleone’s would need.

Connections that Michael might need.

No, this can't be. 

You swallowed the lump that had been forming in your throat, biting down on your trembling lip to stop the whimper escaping from your lip.

It can’t be…

It was a sickening thought really, that perhaps Michal wanted you for what you could offer and not who you were. Maybe the love between the both of you was synthetic on his part; a mere ruse to obtain financial and business opportunities.

That in itself was bad enough, however, the sting of being used didn’t hurt as much as the sting of not being loved. In your mind, if Michael did love you and was using you, you could tolerate it to some level because at least he loved you. But whether he loved was a question that hung in the air, like a foul stench.

Did Michael love you?

Did he not?

It was painful to think about. You never considered that you would have to think about Michael this way. When you began dating Michael, the idea had never crossed your mind. 

Michael had just back from the war and had ended a relationship with a school teacher by the name of Kay, at the time you didn’t know he belonged to the Corleone family, he was very distant about his family.

After dating for a small amount of time you had found yourself utterly taken with him, practically obsessed. He was everything you longed for in a man. He was kind, gentle, and compassionate, he was also highly attractive which helped greatly. When he asked you to marry him you didn’t hesitate to say yes.

Now looking back on it maybe you shouldn’t have been so hasty.

If I had known I was to be a trading piece I would have-

“Y/n, what’s wrong? You’ve been really quiet.” Michael asked suddenly, breaking the silence that had been lingering between the two of you. His voice drew you from your thoughts and you looked up.

He was leering at you from his behind the desk, his face was a mixture of concern and curiosity. By now he had noticed the unease plastered on your face as well as the detachment you had from him. You had been silent for too long.

You looked at him, questioning whether it was wise to lie. Michael was rather receptive when it came to your emotions, he could notice the subtle changes in your mood. He would easily know if you were lying.

“Oh, it’s nothing, Michael.” You said as you shook your head. You opted to lie, knowing he wouldn’t press the matter further unless you gave him a reason to.

You straightened your shoulders and gave him your most convincing smile. “I’m just tired that’s all.” You chalked it down to fatigue, a plausible excuse, after all, today you had been very busy.

Michael nodded, and his eyes dropped from you momentarily. He placed his glass of scotch down on the desk and unloosened his tie. “Are you enjoying yourself this evening?” He asked. As he did so, he released an exasperated sigh.

Your eyes dropped from him, and you looked up to the ceiling. “Ummm, yes.”

No, Michael, I’m not. Are you marrying me for my family’s connections?

The thought fired past the many ones just like it in your head. But you merely ignored it. You sighed and looked away from the ceiling, looking back at Michael.

“How about you?” You said, trying to squash any feelings of doubt.

“Yes, though I didn’t get to talk with a lot of people as I was wrapped up in some things.” Michael walked away from the desk and sat on a chair at the other end of the room.

“However, I actually did manage to talk to your aunts though, rather they found me. We had some interesting conversations.” Michael laughed as he thought back to how your aunts had grilled him about whether big noses are a sign of good endowment in Italian culture.

“The women in your family are quite some characters!”

Michael’s voice filled the room as he continued to talk, he was more talkative than usual. He went on about the party. But his words were met with no replies, you weren’t really listening, you just nodded absent-mindedly at his comments. The bombardment of thoughts had already made it hard for you to hear.

Does he love me?

He says it all the time, but now I’m not sure.

But what else did I expect?

Of course, he’s marrying me for my father’s connections, do you think a girl like me would ever have a chance with a man like Michael if I didn’t have something to offer?

Your thoughts were spiteful and bitter, they pricked at you like a needle. They hurt you greatly but you couldn’t help but conjure them. You couldn’t help but believe they were true.

Your doubts continued as did  Michael’s chatter, however unbeknownst to you, he had stopped talking a while ago. He had noticed that you were engorged by silence, this was the second time you had become unresponsive.

“Have you eaten?” Michael asked. 

The question went over your head, you were too trapped in your thoughts.

“Y/n?” Michael’s voice suddenly peaked, having to have raised his voice for you to hear.

You jolted suddenly. “Pardon?” You met his gaze again.

“Did you eat? You said you were tired.” Michael was frowning now; it was a frown of concern.

You swallow hard. The room has suddenly become unbearably small as if it’s shrinking. You begin to feel unpleasantly warm.

I’m making a scene. Oh my god. He’s going to notice.

“I umm, I-. Look, Michael. I think I’m going to go home.” You avert your eyes from him after making your request.

You cringe the moment the request slips out of your mouth. It’s crazy, you know it is, it’s your engagement party, leaving would not only seem strange but raise more questions than you care to answer. But you just wanted to go home. 

The environment of the party was suffocating, it was suffocating to be around Michael.

“Leave?” Michael questions. You don’t have to look up to know there's a look of confusion on his face, his tone says it all.

“I know it’s a bit early, but I really want to go home.” You say truthfully. “If that's fine with you, that is.” You add in a small whisper.

“No, no it’s fine.” Michael's face softens. “If you feel tired you should go home.” He sounds understanding, and its comforts you slightly.

“I’ll think of an excuse for your absence, but first let me get someone to drive you home, I would do it myself but we both can’t go missing.”

“What are you going to do by yourself?” You ask curiously as you rise from your chair preparing to leave. You feel partially guilty that you’re leaving Michael here alone, but you know it’s for the best until these feelings subside. You wonder if time apart will clear your head.

“I still have some people to talk to.” Michael stands up from his chair, he stretches before fixing his tie. Then he walks over to you, offering you his hand to help you up.

You smiled at him warmly and took his hand, uprooting yourself up from the chair. When you stood up he planted a small kiss on your cheek. It made your smile widen. It was your first genuine smile of the night.

You then looked at Michael, properly this time, taking in the features of his face. There were lines under his eyes, and his hair was a little ruffled. He was tired, very tired, and yet the smile on his face remained when he was around you, a smile of complete adoration. 

Surely a man who was using you wouldn’t look at you that way? Could he?

With that thought, you felt guilty. Perhaps you were overreacting, after all these thoughts had come from nowhere, how could you judge Michael purely based on thoughts?

Maybe I am overreacting?

Michael cleared his throat. “Besides I still have things to talk to your father about that are business related.” 

Upon hearing that the warmness of Michael’s previous gesture faded away, and the smile dropped from your face. You let go of Michael’s hand immediately. The thoughts came crashing in again at the mention of business and your father.

“You speak to my father a lot these days.” You said with a hint of irritation. The past feelings of sadness were replaced with those of slight anger. 

Michael hadn’t seemed to notice the sudden change in your tone. “I have to.” He shrugged. “We have a lot of business to discuss.” He tried to reach for your hand to hold it again. But you kept them firmly to your side.

Your brows furrowed into a glare. “Business, business, hmm.” You snapped. “It’s all my father and you ever talk about!” The last sentence was particularly icy.

This time Michael caught onto the increase of snark in your voice. He looked at you carefully, he was quiet as he assessed the sudden coldness emitting from you before choosing to speak again.

“I suppose so? Your family and mine are working together now, so it only makes sense…” Michael was sure to tread carefully with his words.

“And you know, after we get married it will only continue,” He added. 

Your eyes widened immediately, and your mouth fell open.

Oh no.

Michael’s words were practically an omission. In your mind, this was the nail in the coffin. The wave of sadness that hit you was immeasurable. Your worst fears had been confirmed. Michael was only marrying for your connections, he didn’t love you, and he never had. 

You didn’t feel the tears streaming down your face until the second one reached your chin. “So you don’t love me?” Your voice cracked.

“What?” The question caught Michael off guard, and so did the tears. He blinked. “Y/n?” This is something he clearly hadn’t anticipated.

You drew a quivering breath, clearing the air that had been trapped in the back of your throat, once it was released everything slipped out.

“How could I be so stupid?” You sobbed.

“I knew that this marriage was beneficial to your family, you have so much to benefit from this, but I never thought you would-!” You were crying at an abnormally loud level. Tears were streaming down your face as you got choked up on your words.

All the while Michael was in a state of shock. He froze momentarily, this fluctuation in emotions had been so random.

“I know what my father does for a living, I’m not stupid, I know his connections are desirable to many people, including you.” Your voice lowered suddenly. The sudden rush of hysteria you had was wearing off, now you were just filled with dejection, complete and utter dejection.

“I know you don’t feel the same I do.” You sniffed quietly. “How could you?”

“After all, I'm just a business venture, a contract… And yet.” You shook your head, stifling a laugh. “I still love you, even if I know you don’t love me.”

It was ironic, funny, almost tragic. You knew Michael wasn’t marrying you out of love or sincerity but you could never stop loving him.

You laughed again. “What am I even saying?” You felt as if you had been rambling incoherently, spewing utter nonsense for what felt like forever, but once you had started you couldn’t stop.

“I’m so sorry.” You whispered. You slumped back into the chair, burying your face into your hands.

Michael had been silent for most of your tirade, dropped to his knees beside you. The realization had hit him. The silence, the melancholy, the distance you had been putting between the both of you, and the reason behind it were all so clear now.

She thinks that I'm marrying her for her connections. 

He shook his head and exhaled. “Y/n.” He put his hand on your thigh, caressing it slowly. “I’m disappointed to hear that.” He said sadly.

“I’m sorry.” You sniffed.

“No, no, no.” Michael pinched the bridge of his nose with his other hand. “I’m not disappointed in you.”

The disappointment Michael felt was not aimed at you but at himself. A deep shame wallowed in his chest after hearing your confession. He was ashamed that you felt that way, ashamed that he made you feel that way, and ashamed that he had failed to notice.

She thinks of herself as a business venture. Michael swallowed bitterly. His heart ran cold. His guts tangled into a knot. He felt sick. Michael’s mouth went dry as he analyzed you silently. A minute passed before he finally said something.

“Y/n will you please look at me.” He asked softly.

You shook your head, refusing to honor his request. You didn’t move an inch. You were too afraid to look up, deathly afraid to look at his face and whatever expression he had on. You wish he would just leave you to sob in the confines of his father’s office but you could still feel his presence by your chair and you knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

Michael sighed. He removed his hand from your thigh and placed it on your cheek. You shivered at his touch, but you still refused to look up.

“Do you really believe that I'm marrying you because of your father’s business connections?” Michael’s voice was at a whisper now.

“That’s why you’ve been so distant lately hmm?” He began to caress circles on your cheek. “You believe that I’m doing this strictly for business purposes.”

“And do you really believe that I don’t love you?” He said bitterly.

You cringed, slouching into your chair even more, you wished you could sink into the chaie and disappear. He sounded angry. You began to worry that this would lead to an argument, perhaps it hadn’t been the best to break down at this very moment.

But the next words from Michae’s mouth weren’t ones of anger in fact they sounded quite regretful.

“I’m sorry.” He said. “I’m really sorry.” There was great despair in his voice. 

“I’ve made you feel as if you are nothing more than a trading piece.” Michael exhaled. He couldn’t remember a specific time or day he had behaved in a manner that made you feel less than, but he clearly had, and it had made you so insecure that you felt as if he didn’t love you.

“Y/n,” He said firmly. He knew he had to rectify the situation, he couldn’t have you believing that he didn’t love you. “My family business is important, but so are you.”

“I care about you.”

“I really do.”

He cares about me? You sniffed. 

The level of sincerity was enough to lull you out of your state, but not enough to entirely draw you out. You weren’t fully convinced. He cared about you but did he love you? Did he love you as you loved him? Or was he lying merely to appease you? 

Michael was a gentleman but being a businessman also meant he knew how to lie, and lie very well. You only hoped the latter was true. It had to be for your sake.

“You care about me?” You said slowly. Your face rose from your hands, you let out one final sniff, and exhaled, hoping to gain a bit of courage. “But do you love me?” You questioned. You had to know for sure.

“When we get married could you bring yourself to love me? And don’t lie to me.”

You felt your chest tighten as you looked at Michael who was still kneeling on the floor beside you. Your eyes met his, Michael’s eyes locked deeply into yours and you felt small under his gaze but you dared not to look away. Your breath hitched. You had never experienced a heart attack but you were sure this is what it felt like as you awaited his answer.

Michael examined you properly now as you sat up, you were still slightly hunched over in the chair and your hair was down, now ruffled and messy, it covered the right side of your face. Your eyes were puffy and red. The dim lighting of the room cast a shadow across you, heightening the expression of anticipation on your face and the look of worry, as well as dread.

Then Michael finally spoke. “Y/n, I don’t have to bring myself to love you, because I already do, connections be damned.”

“I’ve loved you for so long, even before I asked  your father for your hand in marriage.” Michael took your hands from your lap and bought them up to his lips. He planted a small kiss on them.

You looked at Michael as your hands sat stalely in his. Michael held his breath as he watched you look into his eyes, he prayed that you would what you were looking for, what had always been there.

At that moment there was a mutual silence between the two of you. You searched Michael’s eyes for any hint of deceit or duplicity, you prowled for any signs that indicated he was lying, but you couldn’t find it. 

In his eyes lay nothing but awe and adoration for you. The look on his face was one of passion and honesty. This wasn’t the face of a man who was lying, this was the face of a man who loved you.

"You really do care for me?' You said quietly. The way the words rolled off your tongue sounded as if you were trying to speak a foreign language. You sounded as if you still couldn’t believe it.

"I do." Michael nodded. "And, once again, I’m sorry that I made you doubt my feelings for you.” He apologized again.

“You want to marry me?” You perked up a little, the warmth was returning to your chest, and your heart rate had begun to still. “You really want to marry me?” You asked again as you squeezed Michael’s hand.

Michael smiled. “Do you think I am the kind of man who would make a commitment to a woman for the rest of my life if I didn’t feel anything for her?” He brushed the hair out of your face and placed it behind your ear.

“Y/n, my feelings for you extend past any business venture,” Michael stated as he leaned and kissed your forehead.

You couldn’t help but crack a small.

Michael loved you.

Michael loved you!

“Can you say that again?” You requested gingerly.

Michael stopped kneeling on the floor and stood up. “Say what?” He questioned, looking down at you.

“That you love me? Please?”

The verbal declaration of Michael’s love for you had washed away all your doubts and lingering worries. Hearing him say three simple words left you feeling euphoric, it felt exhilarating. You wanted to hear him say it again.

“I love you.” Said, Michael. “I’ll say it a thousand more times if you wish.” He smiled.

You nodded. “Yes, do it again.”

“I love you,”

“I love you,”

“I love you.”

Each time he said it, a different wave of joy hit you. You wiped what was left of the tears from your eyes and stood up. You leaned into Michael, burying your face into his chest. Michael wrapped his arms around you and held you tightly.

You felt safe in his arms, you felt happy, you felt loved. The feeling lasted all through the night, even when the both of you returned to the party and people asked why your eyes were so red. You didn’t really care though, Michael loved you, that’s all that mattered.

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This story was an ungodly level of long and cringe.

Anyways hope you enjoyed it.

[chicaboom-chic]

I was watching the godfather part II with my mom yesterday, and I couldn't control myself. 💀💀 Any self control I had when Michael was on the screen left my body.

[chicaboom-chic]

Shelby brothers x Bisexual reader (platonic)

Telling the Shelby brothers that you’re bisexual Headcanon:

THE READER CAN BE MALE OR FEMALE

John Shelby:

John laughs at you at first, assuming that you're pulling his leg or playing a prank. It's all one big joke to him. It's only when he looks at you carefully and sees the frown deeply etched into your face that he realizes you're not joking. The smile on his face immediately drops, he clears his throat, and looks down, beginning to backtrack on what he said. 

Then he looks up at you again, before asking.  “Are you sure?" There’s not a hint of humor in his voice, his face is deadpan. It’s one of the few times you’ve ever seen John so serious. You don’t know how to feel about it.

When he sees that you're certain he nods; he shrugs and gives you a small smile.

"I don’t see a problem with it if you don’t." He affirms as he clasps his hand over your shoulder, and gives it a firm squeeze. "Although I always knew there was something about you.” He laughs.

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Arthur Shelby:

You're drinking with Arthur at the garrison when you first tell him, you nearly cause him to spill his drink.

"You're what?" He splutters. He places his glass down immediately. His eyebrows twitch with confusion as he stares at you. You feel nervous at once, unsure if telling him was the right decision. But you’ve already said it, so you press on.

The confusion doesn't leave Arthur's face as you continue your explanation. 

"But you don't look-I mean I never would have thought-" Arthur stumbles over his words unsure of what to say. Even after explaining it to him in the best way you can, his brain is in shambles. After muttering to himself about this being "new age nonsense.", he falls silent for a minute. He's looking at you; his expression is unreadable. Your nerves spike.

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" Arthur remarks quietly. He sounds hurt, to your surprise. It catches you off guard, he’s not angry, and he’s not disgusted, but he's hurt.

It’s your turn to struggle with your words, you hadn’t expected this.

You open your mouth to speak but Arthur speaks before you.

"Nevermind,” He says shaking his head. He reaches for his drink and takes a sip, before setting it down on the table once more, he stares at the glass of whiskey intently. “It doesn't matter," Arthur states.

"I don't care what you like, and I support you." He looks at you, tilting his head before saying: "Even if it is a little confusing."

-----------------------------------

Tommy Shelby:

The first time you tell Tommy, he's in his office looking at papers, his attention is loosely between you and the papers in front of him. You figured now would be the best time as his attention was divided, perhaps the reaction would be less severe. Out of the three Shelby brothers, his reaction is the one that worried you the most.

But telling him was proving hard, as the first time you had said it, you weren't sure if he had heard you.

"Tommy, I'm bisexual." This was the second time you said it, the first time you’d been met with silence, absolutely no reaction, or even acknowledgment. 

Tommy's eyes don't leave the paper but this time he does respond. "I heard you the first time." He says quickly. It's a response that shocks you. It’s calm, too calm. Horrifying calm. It scares.

You bite your lip. Perhaps he doesn't understand, maybe he was like Arthur and needed extra clarification. "It means I like girls and guys." You state, there’s a slight tremble in your voice. You can feel your confidence dissipate slowly. 

"I know what it means." Tommy sighs. He looks up this time. He looks irritated and bored out of his mind. 

"Oh." You say. You tilt to the side carefully, and you step towards his desk cautiously. You had kept towards the door in case you needed to make a quick getaway.

"And?" You prod him for an answer. You’re not sure if poking the bear is a wise decision, but his first reaction was too ambiguous, and the ambiguity not only leaves you confused but worried.

"And what?” He snaps. “What do you want me to do, hand you a medal?” He adds with a large amount of sarcasm. Once again, this is a rather ambiguous answer. It leans more towards an indifferent side.

You frown. “You don’t care- I mean it doesn’t bother you that I’m?”

“Bisexual?” Tommy interrupts. He merely laughs and his eyes return back to his papers. “No, I don’t discriminate. Now if you don’t mind I'd like to finish these papers without someone standing over me.”

“Close the door on your way out.” He instructs, ultimately ending the conversation.

Your heart stops racing at once, and you feel as if a giant weight has been lifted off you.

A big grin grows on your face as you turn in the direction of the door. As you turn the knob you wonder why you were so worried in the first place.

-----------------------------------

If we are being realistic John would probably assume you have a crush on him and Arthur would punch you in the face. Tommy wouldn't care as long as you don't do anything weird near him.

[chicaboom-chic]

"Playdates!" Young Vito Corleone x Reader

Summary: You Frequently visit Vito in his apartment, and have playdates with his four rowdy children.

Sometimes Vito will sit on a chair in the kitchen, facing your direction; he’s silent, favoring to say nothing as he listens to the lively chatter around him. There’s a soft smile etched onto his face as he watches you play with the little ones. You’re sprawled out on the floor of his apartment, surrounded by his children: Sonny, Fredo, Michael, and Connie. 

Sonny being the oldest and rowdiest will run laps around you. He’ll chase his younger siblings mercilessly until one of them cries; his favorite victim is Fredo. If Sonny is feeling extra bold, he’ll commit to his favorite, a game that consists of pulling your hair while your attention is elsewhere and running away when you turn around. 

It never really bothers you, most of the time you’ll just smile and wag your finger at him playfully but Vito doesn’t take it too well. He’ll pull Sonny to the side and chastise him sternly. 

And then there’s Fredo. Fredo while l being meeker than Sonny, he isn’t exempt from having the occasional bout of mischief. Fredo will walk around the apartment floor stomping his little feet against the carpet, hoping to cause as much of a stir for the tenants below to hear. 

Michael is more bashful than his older brothers, you almost never expect trouble from him. Michael will opt to stay beside you, he’ll sit on the floor next to you and play with his sister Connie, who babbles to herself and laughs when Michael pulls faces at her.

During these playdates, Vito will uproot himself from the chair and join you and the children on the floor. He’ll sit across from you and tell the children to gather around in a circle. They all immediately flock toward their father, intrigued and excited to listen to what he has to say.

On some nights he’ll tell them a story, regaling his life as a boy in Corleone, other nights he’ll sing to them only to be interrupted by Connie who joins in with her babbling.

On hectic nights Vito will become inflicted by his son’s playfulness, opting to join their little boy's club. He’ll chase them around the house, or he’ll carry them, he’ll tickle them until they can no longer laugh. 

Sometimes the tables will turn and children chase him around, cornering their father and climbing on top of him. As they overpower him you hear Vito laugh and say.

“Help me y/n my children are turning on me!” Then he’ll then scoop them up in his arms. “I’m getting too old!” He exclaims as he carries them toward you and Connie who are still on the floor. He places them down gently.

But after a certain amount of hours, it begins to get late and you have to remind Vito of the children’s bedtime.

“Vito.” You say softly. “You’re getting them riled up, they won’t be able to sleep.” 

You look at his children. Connie was already too fussy and the boys were bouncing between the both of you, their energy in the room was not depleting any time soon. You looked up at Vito, you raised your eyebrows, hinting further at the time. 

Vito didn’t respond, though his eyes were transfixed on you, his mind was elsewhere. His gaze was set on you, staring at you longingly. You could see a slew of emotions in his eyes. 

“Vito?” You drag him out of his reverie.

“Yes.” 

“It’s nearly bedtime wouldn’t you say?” You look down at the kids.

This time he registers your words. “I suppose it nearly is,” He says before he leans in, enveloping your space, he places his hand on your cheek; his hand tingling against your face, and his lips graze yours before both of your lips meet and he kisses you. You kiss him back. 

Around you can hear the children all scream in disgust.

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