#and his reaction to kay's death was shattering

[purpleheartskies]

Kreese, Johnny, Robby, and the cycle of generational trauma

This post talks about Robby's ultimate goal of breaking the cycle of generational trauma that is being passed down to him from Kreese and Johnny. The post goes into Johnny's Hero's Journey a bit. (The Hero's Journey is a story structure and a character transformation arc in a story. I want to do a proper post about Johnny's Hero's Journey, but I may wait until after s6 to do so. Explanations below that are about certain stages in the Hero's Journey are in blue font.) Note, the post contains spoilers for s6!

Since s3, I've been really interested in the Kreese-Johnny-Robby storyline because it's about most of the generational trauma that is in Johnny and Robby's story. (s4e4 also touched on Johnny having his bio dad's things after he had abandoned Johnny and on Robby mentioning that Johnny once leaving behind a VHS movie was the only reminder he had for months that Johnny existed.) The ending of s3 also seemed to open up the possibility of Johnny starting to truly redeem himself. Now, if you follow my posts, you know that I believe there is a difference between writers not knowing how to do storytelling versus writers making decisions that I don't like for characters and characters' journeys. Yes, I did not like where the writers have gone with Johnny and Johnny's story, but I also don't believe that that means the writers don't know what they're doing as storytellers. These are just the decisions they have made for his character. They didn't have him start growing in s4 or s5. Instead, they had him stay the same in general and get worse wrt Robby. Anyway...

At the end of s3, Johnny started the Ordeal stage in his Hero's Journey. About the Ordeal:

Things go wrong and added conflict is introduced. The hero experiences more difficult hurdles and obstacles, some of which may lead to a life crisis. Usually involves looking in a mirror, literally or metaphorically. Can include being pushed to their limit until their identity is shattered or they face death or their greatest fear, and their essence (greatest flaw) is revealed. The hero also faces his shadow (his greatest villain) and reaches his goal. The goal itself does not satisfy the hero's deepest need.

Johnny faced his "shadow" (greatest villain) Kreese and looked in his "mirror" Robby. He was confronted by both his past/present with Kreese and his past/present with Robby. Kreese had inserted himself into Robby's life behind Johnny's back. Of course, Johnny's knee-jerk reaction was to blame Robby, "Robby, what are you doing here?" when he found Robby with Kreese, despite knowing that Kreese is a manipulative brainwasher. Kreese then told Johnny that he wanted them to become the 3 generations of Cobra Kai, and Robby told Johnny to listen to Kreese because Kreese wants what's best for Johnny. Kreese would always tell Johnny that he wants what's best for Johnny when Kreese is trying to manipulate Johnny. I've always believed that Robby wasn't manipulated by Kreese in this moment but was just playing along with Kreese. After all, Robby didn't trust anyone anymore and knew when he met Kreese in juvie that Kreese was using different manipulation tactics against him. (Robby's responses to Kreese in that scene indicate so.) Anyway, Johnny attacked Kreese after Robby said this. Their fight escalated. Johnny picked up a weapon, and Robby told him "don't do it." Johnny dropped the weapon, tackled Kreese, and started punching Kreese repeatedly while he was on the ground. Robby pulled Johnny away from Kreese, and Johnny tried to tell Robby to listen to him and not to trust Kreese. Robby responded by comparing trusting Kreese to trusting Johnny, indicating that Robby didn't trust either of them. Robby then told Johnny that all those years Johnny wasn't there Robby blamed himself, that Kreese is right that Robby can't be his own worst enemy, and that Johnny can be. Robby then attacked Johnny, who tried his best not to hurt Robby, but Johnny accidentally did. While Johnny was checking if Robby was okay, Kreese attacked Johnny and started strangling him. Daniel then arrived and kicked Kreese off of Johnny. At the end of the fight, after Daniel was stopped from doing more damage to Kreese, Johnny stood next to Daniel, opposite to Kreese, and said that Cobra Kai's gotta go. This was Johnny shedding his identity as "Cobra Kai". Kreese then offered a deal that they settle things with the avt, and Daniel and Johnny accepted. Robby then came out and stood next to Kreese and told Johnny and Daniel to leave. They were simply disappointed and didn't try to stop Robby from staying with Kreese.

What's important about these confrontations for Johnny is that earlier, because of his conversation with Ali, he had decided to move on from his past and focus on his present and future. He decided to move on from Ali. Later, because of these confrontations with Kreese and Robby, Johnny also decided to move on from these relationships as well. It's why in s4 he didn't do anything for Robby and did everything he could to hold onto his relationships with the Diazs, which he now considers his present and future (as he also indicated to Chozen in s5e9). This is also why Johnny dismisses or shuts down any mention (especially by Robby) of his failures with Robby. Johnny wants to move on from the past for his own benefit and believing that he can't make up for it.

In s4, Kreese was easy going with Robby, which Robby knew was to get to Johnny. Silver also made note of this. He knew that Kreese wanted to share his legacy with Johnny and Robby more than Kreese wanted to share it with him. Silver noted to Kreese that Kreese had struck first against Johnny and took his son. Silver also noted to Kreese that he didn't have everything under control, including Robby. Silver decided to take matters into his own hands in s4e8. Silver took advantage of Johnny's weaknesses wrt to Robby. Kreese had figured out in s2 that Johnny neglects Robby, but in s3, Kreese saw for himself that Johnny refused to fight Robby. As viewers, we can doubt whether Johnny actually cares about or loves Robby, but Kreese and Silver do keep trying to use Robby against Johnny. (Although Silver did mention that Miguel would see Johnny's bruises and get thrown off balance, that didn't happen. Instead, Miguel got thrown off balance because Johnny said "I love you too Robby". Also, Silver was trying to use Johnny against Miguel, not the other way around.) Anyway, on prom night, Silver went to the Keene's home, gave Robby his car to borrow, gave Shannon cash, and offered her a job. Shannon recognized this as a red flag and went to Johnny. At first, he focused more on the fact that Robby was going to prom than on what she was saying about Silver. She forced Johnny to pay attention to the Silver part. She told him what Silver had done, why she didn't like it, and that Johnny needed to handle it because it's related to Cobra Kai.

Johnny then went to the CK dojo looking for Silver. Silver called the dojo and taunted Johnny over the phone. When Johnny told Silver to keep his cash and cars away from his son, Silver pointed out that Johnny didn't even know that Robby was going to prom. Silver said that as long as Robby was with him, Silver would take care of him. He also commented about Shannon being a beautiful woman. Silver then lured Johnny into a trap, blindsided him with an attack, and fought him. When Silver got the upperhand and wanted to show Johnny no mercy, Kreese stopped him from doing more and they left Johnny there. By the time, Johnny made it home, Johnny was drunk and in a broken state. No doubt, the experience was an insane one for him. Johnny's turmoil and grief were focused on what he has never been able to do for Robby. All Johnny has wanted to do is be a father to Robby and protect him, but Johnny's traumas and his reliance on his coping mechanisms (his addictions to alcohol and to the validation he feels in his relationship with Miguel) have really impaired his ability to do so. Sadly, despite this experience with Silver, Johnny still did nothing to get Robby back from Silver and Kreese.

I believe the prom night was part of Johnny's Ordeal. (Though, I'm still playing with the analysis of Johnny's Hero's Journey. Because the series is structured like a very long movie, some stages in the characters' Hero's Journeys can span more than one episode, as with Robby's Hero's Journey.) The Ordeal stage takes the character to their lowest state and also reveals the character's greatest flaw and Johnny spoke about some of his flaw: him not being able to be a father to Robby. In s4e7, Johnny had also spoken about how he is passing down generational trauma to Robby:

Johnny: "... I didn't have a male role model growing up. Till I met Kreese, and you know how that went. And I didn't want to be like him. Or Sid. Or my own dad. And I took all that bullshit I felt from them and I put it on Robby's life. I can never fix that."

In s4e10, Kreese and Johnny did talk at the avt, and Kreese told Johnny that Johnny didn't know what Silver was going to do. Kreese told Johnny that he could have been with his "real" son. Johnny said that Kreese doesn't care about Robby any more than Kreese cares about Johnny. Johnny then reminded Kreese that he had forced Johnny to fight dirty and sacrifice his soul so that Cobra Kai could stay number one. Kreese said that that wasn't true and that he wanted Johnny to be number one. Kreese said that Johnny was about to beaten, he was down 2-0, and Kreese knew it would take Johnny into a downward spiral and had been right about that. Kreese went on to say that it does matter whether you win or lose and, if he can help Robby win, Robby will remember it for the rest of his life and maybe Robby can keep Cobra Kai going. Johnny said that that's never gonna happen because Cobra Kai's gonna die that night.

Cobra Kai didn't die that night, though. Kreese had also been wrong about Robby. Kreese had wanted to pass down his legacy to Robby and even tried to, but Robby rejected it soon after he adopted it fully in his fight with Kenny. Robby went to Johnny after the avt and also quit Cobra Kai. Johnny of course had done nothing to protect Robby from Kreese in the first place, nor the whole time Robby had been with Kreese.

In s5e7, Kreese tried to convince Johnny that everything Kreese had done had been for Johnny and that Johnny could still get Cobra Kai back and carry on the legacy. Johnny then said that that is Kreese's legacy and that Johnny's in this fight to erase everything Kreese did, every mark Kreese left, and every memory of Kreese. However, throughout s5, Johnny continued to pass down Kreese's legacy---the generational trauma due to the dysfunctional relationships and the generational trauma due to Cobra Kai. Johnny didn't treat Robby well at all and continued to pass down trauma to Robby due to Johnny's continued dysfunctional behavior with him. Also, although Johnny taught Miguel Kreese's Cobra Kai legacy as well as Johnny's own Cobra Kai legacy called Eagle Fang, Miguel has used this legacy primarily on Robby since s1, attacking him more than once, and this has added to Robby's traumas. Robby's life has been affected negatively by the school fight the most, especially with the consequences and aftermath of the school fight continuing to add to Robby's traumas and to have lasting effects on his relationships, reputation, and present and future prospects. In s5e5, for his own benefit, Johnny told the boys to use a "Johnny classic", aka Cobra Kai, method to resolve the rivalry that is essentially Miguel's rivalry with Robby. Robby clearly didn't want to fight but did so because Miguel agreed to it. Miguel "struck first" and drew blood first. They both "struck hard" then. In the end, Robby stopped fighting back, and Miguel "showed mercy". This fight was meant to mirror the school fight.

Robby has been experiencing the generational trauma through Johnny's behavior and through the Cobra Kai teachings. Kreese's captain had used the teachings on Kreese. Kreese has used the teachings on Johnny. Johnny, through teaching and supporting Miguel and knowing that he uses the teachings against Robby, has essentially been using the teachings on Robby as well. In s4, when Robby used the Cobra Kai teachings on Kenny, Robby immediately regretted it and turned completely against the Cobra Kai teachings. Later, he didn't even join Eagle Fang but chose to join Miyagi-Do. Robby is the cycle breaker! Since Daniel's lessons about finding balance in s1e8 and s1e10, Robby has been trying to overcome his "hate"/trauma and trying to "find balance". He tried using the Miyagi-Do way from s1e10 to s2e10 but failed. He tried to use Cobra Kai to channel his hate into fighting from s3e10 to s4e10 in order to find balance. But, fully adopting Cobra Kai led to him hurting Kenny, which he doesn't want to do. He doesn't want to be like Johnny. He wants to be better than Johnny, like he told Johnny in s4e4. Robby wants to break the cycle of generational trauma, and he has actually been trying to. Whereas Johnny only focuses on how the trauma and his failures with Robby have affected Johnny himself, Robby wants to work on overcoming his trauma so that he doesn't affect others with it.

In s5e10, the juxtaposition of Johnny's and Robby's fight scenes, the parallel of Robby not fighting back against Kenny in the brawl to Johnny not fighting back against Robby in s3e10, and the line that Johnny will screw up another kid---and essentially continue the cycle of generational trauma---are very important.

The only line that acknowledges the reality of Johnny becoming a father again is bookended by these two editing cuts, one of the many subtle, visual reminders throughout the series that Robby is Johnny's son. The statement itself literally tells the audience what to expect if Johnny were to become a father again: Johnny will screw up another kid.

Johnny had left Robby with Johnny's abuser, and that's yet another irredeemable thing Johnny has done to Robby. Robby is a cycle breaker, while Johnny isn't. In s5, the last statement made about Johnny becoming a father again is that Johnny's going to just screw up another kid. Robby in contrast was shown to do more to get Kenny out of Cobra Kai and warn him of the potential dangers of Cobra Kai and Silver. In s5e4, Robby himself went to Kenny and told him that Cobra Kai would turn him into a someone him doesn't want to be. In s5e8, when Kenny approached Robby angrily, Robby discouraged him from giving into his hate and encouraged him to use a Miyagi-Do way to solve his rivalry. In s5e9, Robby went to the Cobra Kai dojo and told the students in front of Silver that Silver is their enemy. Robby looked right at Kenny and said that he has not gone beyond the point of no return and that there is another way (Miyagi-Do). In s5e10, later that day, Robby took part in the plan to take down Silver and made a point to keep trying to talk to Kenny before, during, and after the brawl. Robby didn't try to fight back against Kenny when he attacked him, and Robby also gave Kenny a meaningful look while the video of Silver's confession was playing. Although, Johnny did by chance find Robby with Kreese and tried to tell Robby not to trust Kreese (s3e10), Johnny had done nothing to prove himself or be there for Robby up until that point. Johnny had not built a relationship with Robby and didn't have Robby’s trust. When Robby attacked Johnny, Johnny didn't fight back until he instinctively did and hurt Robby by accident. Johnny did immediately regret it, but he soon after gave up on Robby pretty easily and left Robby with that mark on his head and with Kreese. In all of s4, Johnny did nothing for months afterwards to get Robby away from Kreese. That does indicate to Robby that Johnny as always truly doesn't care about Robby and/or Johnny was lying to Robby about Kreese. Although, because of Kreese's arrest, Robby does now believe that Kreese is bad, Robby still believes that Silver is the worse of the two. Robby still doesn't know about what Silver had done to Johnny on prom night. Though, Robby is also still unaware of Johnny's full history with Kreese, so Robby is still unaware that Kreese has strangled Johnny twice: first, when he was Robby’s age; second, that night at the CK dojo with Robby lying unconscious a few feet away.

The s5 finale started with Kreese saying that his best student, who was like a son to him, told him that every mark he made and every memory of him would be erased. The finale ended with Kreese escaping prison. With Kreese out in the wild and with s6 being the last season, this storyline between Kreese, Johnny, and Robby should/will now be focused on and resolved. After all the writers have always talked about the premise of Johnny's story being that Johnny's relationship with Kreese has affected Johhny's relationship with Robby. It's important to note that, in canon, Kreese and Johnny both blame Johnny losing the avt for Johnny's life falling apart, but the root of it is Kreese strangling and abandoning Johnny. That is also what makes their confrontation in s3e10 so important. Johnny relived the worst moment of his life but has never really confronted what that means for him and how that had affected his relationship with Robby. Instead, Johnny chose to just move on.

All this leads me to a thought I had for s6. Of course, this is just a musing on my part...

A few spoiler pics since s6 production resumed this year have confirmed so far that the "joint" dojo will just be named Miyagi-Do. I have believed since s3 that Johnny would become Miyagi-Do. (I talk about it a bit in this post.) It has been the trajectory of his journey from the start. The biggest indicator of this was in s2e10 when Robby told Johnny that Miyagi-Do had helped Robby and that Johnny could learn from Daniel. Robby wanted Johnny to become Miyagi-Do, like Robby was trying to become Miyagi-Do. Since then, Johnny himself chose to ally himself with Daniel at the end of s3 and then officially joined dojos with him in s5.

Marty Kove has said that Kreese will be on the warpath. Also, at an event soon after production had stopped last year due the writers' strike, Billy Zabka mentioned that they had filmed the first episode already and that it had two mega fights in it and that there's character development. Now, the thought that I had, which is pretty bleak, is that Kreese will go after Robby. Kreese has played this game with Johnny before, and Kreese knows that one of Johnny's weaknesses is that Johnny neglects Robby. Kreese told Johnny in s2e7 that, when you have a weakness, you let your guard down and it makes you vulnerable. I have mentioned this in general before, but now I wonder what Kreese could potentially do to Robby if Kreese were to approach or confront Robby in s6. What if history will repeat itself? What if Kreese confronts Robby, maybe even about his second place trophy and saying that he is weak just like his father? What if Kreese somehow ends up strangling Robby? Of course, Robby survives, but what if this were to happen? Maybe Johnny will be the one to save Robby? Would this be the wake up call Johnny finally needs? That Robby live through what Johnny has lived through? In terms of passing on the trauma, Kreese has gone to Robby directly before. Robby has also rejected Kreese's legacy, like Johnny has. Most importantly, Robby is Johnny's legacy. This bleak thought occurred to me. On the one hand, I dismiss it. On the other hand, I think it is possible. Kreese strangled Johnny in kk2, and Kreese strangled Johnny in CK s3e10. Could Kreese strangle Robby in s6? I know that people suggested this might happen right after the s4 avt, but it may be a subversion if it happens now. Of course, this is just a thought, and this likely won't happen.

As I mentioned in my post about Robby's Hero's Journey, Robby's and Johnny's Hero's Journeys are converging. The Ordeal is the 8th stage of the Journey, and the Resurrection is the 11th stage, This stage is the climax and is also known as the "dark night of the soul":

"At the climax, the hero is severely tested once more on the threshold of home. He or she is purified by a last sacrifice, another moment of death and rebirth, but on a higher and more complete level. By the hero's action, the polarities that were in conflict at the beginning are finally resolved."

Robby and Johnny should/will both go through their "Resurrection" stages in s6. Each will have his moment of transformation (which doesn't have to be literally associated with a death and birth, but could just be metaphorically) after which each will start to resolve his central conflict and obtain his "need". Robby will start to find balance the correct way that is not detrimental to his mental health, and Johnny will start confronting his past with Robby and atoning for it.

I know everyone has given up on Johnny's redemption wrt Robby, but I'm entertaining the notion that the writers are going to bring this storyline of Kreese-Johnny-Robby home. They will resolve it. s5 was Johnny's Reward stage (the 9th stage). Johnny got his "wants", but the Reward is not meant to satisfy the character's internal "need". Johnny's "need" is him needing to start to resolve his relationship with Kreese and his trauma due to Kreese so that Johnny can start resolving his relationship with Robby and atoning for his failures with Robby. Johnny has to grow in order to be redeemed.

About the Reward stage:

"It is here that the hero receives the object of desire they have been pursuing in the story thus far. But it cannot be enough to fulfill the central conflict in the story. That's because your hero must have an internal need that the object doesn't satisfy." "The hero can also be too easily satisfied with the Reward, leaving unresolved conflict. This sets up an even more shocking twist later when the Shadow rears its head again, shattering the false comfort provided by the physical Reward."

Johnny's shadow (greatest villain) is Kreese. That's why Kreese's escape at the end of s5 and Johnny's promise to wipe out Kreese's legacy were left unresolved at the end of s5. It was pretty obvious from a story structure standpoint that s5 was the false victory as part of the Reward stage. Johnny for sure has yet to have his final confrontation(s) with Kreese, as I assume they will have more than one confrontation across the course of the season, at least one of which may be in ep 1 and one of which may have something to do with Robby. We'll have to see... Regardless, Robby should succeed in his goal of breaking the cycle of generational trauma. This trauma has been been Robby's main rival throughout the series.

(I'm aware that, earlier this year, after production had picked up again, Xolo mentioned in one his and Jacob's podcasts that episode one had been rewritten. We don't know to what extent, so we don't know if what Billy had said about episode one is still true. Given how much producing an episode costs and Jon commenting last year about episode one being wrapped and not being redone after the strike(s) end, it's possible that just some and not all of it has been written. There was also a recent spoiler that indicates something important about Tory that I won't say here. If you follow the spoilers, you'll likely know about it. I'm keeping all this in mind while sharing this thought for s6.)

(Regardless of what will be in s6 or what payoffs we'll get in the story, this is an analysis of what is in canon so far. Please don't reblog or reply with any dismissive comment or tag expressing negativity towards the show writers, the writing, or the serious aspects of the show. Such comments/tags minimize the contents of the post, which discusses the serious topics (such as trauma, bullying, neglect, and abuse) that are explored in the show and should be respected.)

[datastate]

this is such a small thing but it always wrecks me thinking about the russian roulette is just... if sara had killed anyone, there's no good way to cope with it. obviously it hurts me most to think abt her killing joe or kai, but the other two as well...

joe dies:

- that's one of her closest friends she's ever had. not so much so as ryoko, but still someone she's comfortable enough poking fun at and who knows about her stalker and who she hangs out with often after school (whether it's hanging out for karaoke or at the park or shared clubs or just walking her home...) & we already see how. poorly she deals with the guilt of feeling like she caused him pain (and eventually thinking she had hand in his *death*, even indirectly.)

- that last point hits because... in this case, she places the responsibility on herself to take on the gun (even if she's not at all confident) because she knows joe trusts her to succeed for him, for all of them. if he dies directly by her hand, it'd shatter her. she took this up for him, so he could trust her. and she failed him. utterly and completely.

- then everyone's reaction too... they're very. tense leading up until the end. (or if joe's the last target, sara might let herself collapse...)

keiji realizing he put too much pressure on her as well, probably still going to drag her forward - there's no time to mourn (...not like he really gave himself the chance to, in his own experience).

q-taro outraged, not necessarily with her, but with the game altogether; shocked at the full realization of seeing a dead body in front of all of them (he would be more forward about trying to lead the group certain directions, i'd imagine, and probably dislike keiji... maybe some of his own self-loathing for letting this happen depending on how he voted. it's irresponsible... how could they have done that? and now a kid is dead and another one's traumatized!)

maybe people expect kai to be 'i told you so'. to tell keiji (and perhaps q-taro) off. but... kai's deathly quiet. he lifts the gun from the scene. joe earned kai's own trust - the reason he wouldn't trail sara when he knew joe was there, the reason he could make the progress he did on the backdoor file, the person who meant so much to sara ever since she joined sonobeno... seeing her reaction, he can only expect as much. this was why he insisted she not handle the gun. he had faith in her, he always will, but it only takes one mistake, one lapse of judgement, for her to become a murderer. his sentiment stands: he'd rather she risk death than risk that fate. no, kai doesn't think less of her for it, certainly not, but even if they escape... she'll never be the same, and he mourns that. (and... yes. i do think he'd be frustrated with keiji's behavior. even in canon when this turns out well, i think he dislikes the pressure placed upon her when there are other adults around... and isn't that an issue, as well? kai was there, and yet he selfishly rescinded the chance to take the gun himself to keep his own conscience clear.)

and then all the other participants... they'd probably lock the blue room once the remaining four leave, but it'd cause such unease. two deaths that they know of, and they're both young kids. it's fucked.

kai dies:

- in this case, he dies without being able to clarify anything, not the data presented on the laptop, nor his own relationship with the chidouins as their guard... the participants aren't even given a chance to salvage his information

- not only that, he dies without being able to edit or extract the laptop data. no specific files pulled so the participants won't waste their time, no time to write the additional notes meant to encourage sara, the backdoor file may not be entirely finished, the laptop is easily accessible as a bargaining chip, his ID may be presented in the prize exchange if they think it's morbidly funny. just another tool, even in death, to stir unease...

- anyway, back to the present... he was the one fighting for sara to not take the burden upon herself. to the rest, he was right, and he died for it. but it's also much more personal than that too. even though she did end up as the candidate for the roulette, he still trusted her. not for a moment would he doubt her. with the gun to his forehead, he was calm and steady, never blinked or looked away, for he always held faith in the chidouins... he never wished to emburden them. he never wished for them to know the horrors written into him from such a young age. it would be bad enough for sara to have blood on her hands, but it leaves a bitter taste to think that it's his own death that'd be used against her in this...

- i also wonder what joe would do in this case... presumably, he knows kai was the 'stalker', but. sara's reaction would still be so visceral. it's not the time to tell her about this, is it? and even if he was a stalker, was it right for him to die? esp as/if more info comes to the surface... & depending on what joe heard since he wasn't as panicked as sara (though still reasonably afraid) when kai was so close + tried to warn them. aghhh...

keiji dies:

another person who, despite everything, put his faith in sara foremost. he was sketchy in his own right, sure, but he still made the first move to try to build the start of an alliance and get the group in order. and even if he killed someone before, he did seem torn up about it - wasn't that innocence enough? something to help her believe the better part of him? what he did wasn't intentional.. now she just wonders if this is how it felt... (additionally, joe would never be able to question keiji then abt his father's death... hm.)

q-taro dies:

similar reaction to keiji, where q-taro may have given it to sara (if he voted for her), but if he hadn't voted for her... then she'd feel like he's justified in that. she failed to uphold everyone's expectations. if they'd given it up to q-taro, if she wasn't so insistent with the other two backing her up, then he'd still be here. haunted by what they could've done differently... aghhh... oh this entire concept hurts.

[nalutail05]

SAYONARA

Noted: Short story, betrayal, pain, blood shattered, wicked, hatred, and won't be in the AFR book.

~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~

It's already in the middle of the night when all of a sudden the castle where the twelve sinister and queen Narissa stay explodes on both sides. Few of the sinister was able to get out of the castle but with injuries around their body.

"Is everyone alright?" Netanel inquired about his teams.

"Yeah, we are fine." Fiori answered as Luna gazed around.

"Charlotte, Ivy and Claude are not here." Luna told everyone as they all gazed in their area.

"What!? Where did those three go?" Magnus shouted. Then everyone heard footsteps sound, coming in their direction.

The person is wearing a purple dress, black hat, and black heels with a gun in her right hand. When the sinister meets the eye of the person, they soon released it as their queen daughter; Marianna Wolford.

"Marianna?!" Liam stuttered out. Jackson gazed carefully at Marianna and saw she doesn't have any injury.

"Marianna, you are not hurt."

"thank goddess." Luna sigh in relief.

"Yes, I am not hurt but disappointed." Everyone flinched and turned to the girl in shock as she said that. "I was hoping that explosion, would take you all to death but so it seems it didn't."

"M-Marianna... W-what are you talking about? Did you... plan that bomb in the castle... To kill us?!" Victoria stuttered as trembling.

"WHY!!?? Why did you do that!?" Kiyoko yelled at her as Marianna stared at them with empty and wicked.

"Why? You ask, huh... Easy, you guys are a fool, weak, and reckless. And so~ easy to be played with." Marianna grins at them as they all started in rage.

"You... You are a monster! We trusted you!!" Miyamoru shouted at the top of his lungs.

"And that is why you are weak. You trusted me so easily without even knowing what I am capable of." Marianna stated as she sounds like a villain. "You poor innocent souls, being blinded by my kindness, caring heart, and from our friends and gf and bf made you all so fragile. It's too bad, this will be our very last meeting."

"W-wha... Are you--" Before Liam could complete her sentence a three knives fly towards her back. As she let out blood and then fall to the ground everyone's attention changed.

"LIAM!!!" They shouted as Jackson quickly go to Liam, the others turned to the person who throw the knives.

"Eh~!? What's with those faces?" The person who throw the knives appeared in the light and it was one of the members of eclipse sinister. No. 5 Krel.

"Krel!! You little" Magnus clicked his tongue.

"You are also a part of this, Krel!" Netanel inquires him as Krel let out a wicked chuckle.

"Princess Marianna, me and the other eclipse sinister, of course."

"You... You all are in this!" Raizo stuttered.

"Where?... Where are Ivy, Charlotte, and Claude? What did you do to them?" Kai shouted.

"Oh? Do you mean these three?" A female voice appeared as she throw three heads toward the group. It was the heads of Ivy, Charlotte, and Claude.

"Ahhhhh!!!" Victoria screamed as she moved away from the heads. The girl who throw the heads laughed at the reaction of Victoria.

"hahaha!!! You look so funny, with that reaction and so good." It was Maze the no. 12 of the eclipse sinister.

Victoria trembled so badly as her trauma slowly came back to her, "P-please... Stop... T-this is... Not right." Then someone grabbed her hair and pulled it up hard.

"Huh, we do what we want to do." Victoria turned to see no. 2 eclipse sinister Chihiro. "Hmmm... Poor you... Why won't you just surrender? Or just die." Pulled her hair a bit hard causing Victoria pain and screaming.

"Chihiro, stop it! Now!" Fiori stands up and runs to Chihiro, yet before he could go close to them. Another girl falls from the sky and kicks Fiori away caused him to fly to the tree.

"Nice kick, Milan," Chihiro said as the girl curtsy to Chihiro.

"Tsh." Fiori cough blood as he stand up but a string was rap around his neck; stopping him from taking another step.

"Alright, that's enough playing around!" Marianna spoke with a cold tone, "Let's end this, and get moving." With that said all of the eclipse sinister appears in the scene and go to attack one-on-one to the twelve sinister.

The moment Marianna opened her eyes, all of the twelve sinister are bleeding to death and on their last breathe.

"Seems there's nothing more here. Shall we go? Princess...or should I say Queen Marianna" Alvertos said as he kicks on Kai's bloody body to the side.

"Hmmm~ yes, we should go," Marianna said sitting on the side with her mother's head on her hands. Her eyes glow green with evil and power, "This place is nothing more than a dirty castle. Filled with the blood of these people." Throw the head to the side as she stood. "Let's blow up this popsicle stand."

The eclipse sinister smirked as Marianna turned to the castle before snapping her finger soon the palace explode into pieces.

"Sayonara,"

~End~

Song after eclipse sinister & Marianna betrayed everyone. 00:28 - 01:13

[melyzard]

Star Wars Geekery II

Droid Rights Boogaloo! Cassian Andor (and Kay, too!)

I wrote a whole post earlier about some general observations about Stars Wars propaganda, such as how it relates to real world propaganda, with a little speculation about Saw Gerrera and the Alliance. But I also found some extremely interesting and relevant propaganda that sparked some droid-related headcanons about one of my faves: Cassian Andor. (warning: long post, many pictures, some rambling)

So a lot of (most of) Cassian's backstory is left extremely vague. We know he was born on Fest, we know his father died on Carida when he was six, and we know that even at a very young age, he was physically in the fight (although when Cassian was six, the Old Republic was still around, so he's been fighting the Empire longer than the Empire has officially existed). It's reasonable to assume that, since Fest had a sizable Separatist movement, when Cassian would have been quite young, he would, potentially, have been exposed to this little piece of Separatist propaganda:

This poster is a call for droid maintainers, because as we know, the Separatist armies fought primarily with battle droids. Granted, there were probably plenty of flesh-and-blood fighters too, but battle droids were the main forces used by the heavy hitters (Dooku, Trade Federation, etc). So it was a big deal to get droid maintenance and programmers onboard, and hey, why not use the small, clever hands and free labor of children?

This makes me wonder - who taught Cassian how to reprogram droids? I've seen all kinds of headcanons, mostly revolving around long-dead family members such as his father or cousins or what-have-you (interestingly, has anyone claimed it was his mother? Just wondering). But I'd like to submit a new theory: Cassian was only a small child when his family died, and it seems highly possible that he fell in with Separatists for at least awhile. Would he have been picked up by the IAADB or someone who worked on the droid armies? Was that how he was taught droid programming/maint, as a means of helping out the effort? Did little boy Cassian work on those silly 'roger, roger' droids? (Did he feel sorry for them? Hate that they were sent back and reassembled, over and over, sent marching face-first into Jedi that cut them down in waves? Did this perhaps color his attitude towards droids, and the people who see them as disposable?)

Speaking of droids, lets talk about one of my favorite subjects in this fandom: Droid Rights and how synthetic life was generally treated in SW. I mean, droids were a part of literally every facet of life, and yet were still treated with deep mistrust. Check out this poster, for example:

I mean, damn, right? There’s a lot to parse here: the shadow of Grevous, the ominous implication that a droid that isn’t regularly wiped is inherently dangerous no matter what, and the overt sexualization of the (very common) Personal Assistant Droid...(and let’s not even get into the underlying misogyny in depicting a “dangerous” person as a human female). And this poster is from the Old Republic, just before the Clone Wars. So this isn’t some "The Empire Hates Droids" thing, it’s just basic xenophobia. And sure, this particular poster would have been old news by the time Cassian was old enough to understand it...but I doubt very much this is the only one of it's ilk. More importantly, this is the sort of thing people like Draven, Mothma, Bail Organa (basically all the older members of the Alliance) would have grown up around. Even if they strongly disagreed with this poster, or didn't believe droids were inherently dangerous, I'm willing to bet this still tinged their thinking in some way.

Ever ask yourself: if Cassian trusted him, why wasn't K2SO ever allowed to carry a blaster? Well, first ask: who would have had to authorize it? Someone old enough, I imagine, to remember this:

Bear in mind, this was meant to be a reassuring poster. This is droids being presented in a friendly, helpful light. It is, interestingly, almost indistinguishable from anti-droid propaganda:

So here's my theory: young Cassian did not particularly like that "fighting for your independence" poster as a child, but it took him a few years to understand why, and it retroactively irritates him now whenever he encounters knee-jerk reactions to Kay, such as "put a restraining bolt on that thing!" or "you can't arm a droid with a blaster! It could turn on you!" (Also...kind of adds a few shades of nuance to that whole "You're letting her keep it?...do you want to know the odds that she'll shoot you?" scene for both Cassian and Kay, doesn't it?)

I personally feel that the Alliance demonstratively treats droids better than the Empire, but considering how low that particular bar is set, that isn't saying much. And bearing in mind that Rebel Intelligence is responsible for Alliance propaganda as well (both external and internal), I wonder how Cassian reacted to seeing things like this little number, plastered all over headquarters:

...probably not well. Another theory: every time Cassian sees this or something like it, he has to war with himself between "good soldier of the Rebellion who values operational security," and "wants to rip down the poster that advocates for lobotomizing his best friend." I'm willing to bet that he has a standing agreement with Kay to always preform all necessary maintenance himself, to avoid the potential that some indifferent mechanic will do a routine wipe without warning. Cassian probably had to get some fancy permission for that, too. Yet another reason Command won't authorize a weapon for K2SO; he is not routinely rendered "safe." That Cassian is allowed to keep Kay at all probably speaks more to Draven or Mothma's opinion that he needs some sort of social network or personal connection to keep him committed to the cause...or just alive at all.

Aaaaaand we're gonna stop there, before I work myself up too much about this.

(I have a whole thing for Jyn too, but that will come later, when I have some time.)

[mxlti-fand0m-imaginess]

You Flinch During An Argument

request: none

prompts: none

warnings: mentions of abuse and murder, drinking, Kai being an asshole, language, crying, fighting, blood

a/n: this is formatted a little differently than my other headcannons

Tate Langdon

“Tell me it isn’t true!” you yelled, anger and betrayal flooding through you.

Tate didn’t say anything at first, keeping his eyes on the ground. You found out. He didn’t know how but you found out. The one thing he tried to keep hidden finally came out. And this definitely wasn’t going to end well.

“Tell me it isn’t true!” you yelled once more.

“I can’t! I did it, alright?! I shot up my school!”

You froze as soon as the words left his mouth. It was true. It was all true. Everything Chad told you was true.

“Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“Because I didn’t want you to look at me differently.”

While speaking, Tate raised his arm slightly, trying to emphasize his words. But as soon as you saw his arm come up you flinched backwards, putting your arms in front of you to block yourself, preparing to be hit.

“Y/n,” Tate said weakly, his voice broken as he watched you cower away from him.

The anger between the two of you was gone. He slowly walked towards you, pulling you into an embrace.

“I would never hurt you. You know that right?”

“Y-yeah,” you said through oncoming tears.

“Then why,” Tate trailed off, not being able to find the words.

“My ex. He used to hurt me. And I saw you raise your arm and I just thought-,” you paused, trying to collected yourself, “I’m sorry.”

“No, no you don’t have anything to apologize for. You’re safe here, and I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Kit Walker

“You’re never home anymore! All I’m saying is that I miss you! I want to be with you!” you yelled out in tears.

What started as a simple comment of how much you missed him throughout the day, exploded into something way more than that. The two of you were screaming at each other, neither wanting to give up their side.

“I’m never home cause I’m working! I’m trying to help us have money! Which is kinda important!” he said while raising his arm to make a point.

But you didn’t realize that. Memories came flooded back. Dear came flooding back. In an instant you put your arms in front of your face and backed away.

“No!”

Kit froze when he saw what you did. All of his anger left him when he saw you react the way you did. Did you think that he would hit you?

“Y/n,” he trailed off, pain filling his heart.

You were sobbing now. You lowered your arms, but didn’t step any closer to him. You leaned back against the wall and slid to the floor, curling up into a ball.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that. I’m sorry,” you mumbled out, attempting to speak through your sobs.

“Y/n you have nothing to be sorry about. What happened?” Kit asked softly and he sat down in front of you, still keeping his distance as to not upset you.

“My father, he,” you cut yourself off with a heavier sob, not wanting to reminisce any longer.

Kit’s heart shattered when he realized what your were saying. He immediately moved closer to you and pulled you into a hug.

“You don’t have to see him ever again, I promise. We can move, go somewhere far away from him, if you want. But I will never let him go near you again, I promise.”

You looked up at him with bleary eyes.

“Really?”

Kit nodded, and instantly relief flooded through you. You let your weight fall into Kit’s side, wrapping your arms around him, happy that you would never have to face your father again.

Post-Death Kyle Spencer

Kyle was having a meltdown again. You were trying to teach him how to communicate again, showing him flash cards to help him relearn words, and get his needs across to you. But Kyle didn’t like that. He thought you were treating him like he was stupid. And that made him upset.

“Not stupid!” he yelled, smacking the cards out of your hand.

You flinched, and brought your arms up to protect yourself, not bothering to think beforehand. Kyle froze and looked at you sadly when he saw what you did.

“Scared.... of me?”

“No Kyle, I’m not scared of you. I promise, it’s not you. It’s just, some people weren’t so nice to me when I was younger, and I just got scared. It wasn’t your fault.”

Kyle didn’t really know what to do, so he pulled you into a hug, trying not to hug you too tightly. You wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his shoulder, allowing a few tears to slip out.

“You... safe. I... protect y/n.”

You gently smiled, and hugged him tighter.

“Thank you Kyle.”

Jimmy Darling

“Jimmy, I think you’ve had enough to drink,” you said laughing slightly at his drunken state.

You reached over to take the bottle away from him, but he pushed you back and held the bottle away from you.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Jimmy slurred out, glaring at you.

“Jimmy,” you said softly.

You knew he was a little grumpier when he was drunk but this time he seemed different. He was angry. Violent.

“Please, just stop drinking and come to bed.”

Jimmy stood up and walked over to you, seeming even more angry. The bottle slipped out of his hand and fell to the floor, shattering.

“I said don’t tell me what to do!”

He was so close, and so angry. You didn’t know what was going to happen and you didn’t want to. Without thinking you brought your arms up to block your face and cowered away from him.

Seeing your reaction cleared some of the fog over his mind as he realized what happened. You were afraid. Of him. He immediately backed away, a few tears falling past his eyes.

“Y/n, I’m sorry,” he whimpered out, not wanting to startle you by talking loudly.

You lowered your arms and slowly faced him. The sight broke you. He was crying because he thought you were scared of him. You slowly walked over to him and hugged him, trying to o comfort both him and yourself.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he mumbled, feeling guilt overtake him.

“I just got scared. You’ve never been angry like that before and I didn’t know what you were going to do. I’m not scared of you. I promise.”

He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close.

“I’m not going to drink anymore. I promise. I’m going to stop, I never want to upset you like that again.”

James March

He was late again. The two of you were supposed to be having dinner together, but for the fifth time this week James was late. Normally you just waited for him, but you were so fed up. Was he cheating on you? Why was he always late?

You walked out of the room you waiting in and started walking around the hotel, hoping to find out where he was. Then you heard noises coming from James’ room. They sounded almost like moans.

You assumed he was cheating. That’s what it sounded like. You pushed the door open and gasped when you saw what was really happening. Maybe seeing him in bed with another women would’ve been better.

But there he was. Standing over a mutilated body and covered in blood. He turned to face you when he heard the door open, his face immediately falling when he saw your reaction.

“Darling, what are you doing here?”

You didn’t answer, still in too much shock to form your words.

You turned around and started to walk away. James ran after you and grabbed your wrist and turned you to face him. You instantly pulled your wrist out of his grip and backed away from him.

“Dearest please,” he said reaching for you.

You flinched away and pulled your arms up to cover your face. James’ heart shattered at your reaction. You were scared of him.

“Dearest, I would never hurt you. I promise.”

“But- but you killed that person. Why? Why would you do that?” you said, starting to cry.

“It’s just a hobby darling. I assure you, I would never lay a finger on you.”

No matter what he said, you didn’t believe him. You turned around and ran, not knowing where you were going. You just had to get away from him. You had to get away.

Kai Anderson

“What the fuck y/n?” Kai yelled.

He held your wrist tightly and dragged you down into the basement. You were scared, no terrified. Kai was the angriest you’ve ever seen him. You were supposed to kill someone, but backed out at the last moment. You only expected him to be disappointed, not like this.

He dragged you down the stairs and threw you to the floor. He crouched down next to you, and brought his hand near you face. You immediately flinched away, not knowing what he was going to do to you.

He laughed lowly at your reaction. You were scared of him. Perfect. Maybe now he can get you to do what he needed you to do.

He gently ran his fingers through your hair, trying to lure you into a false sense of security. And it was working. You let your guard down.

“You know, I believed in you. I thought you were strong enough to do it. But since guess I was wrong.”

He gripped your hair tightly and started dragging you over to a closet. Your eyes widened when you realized what he was doing.

“No, Kai please! I’ll do anything please!”

“You already had the chance little lamb. But maybe when I let you out, you’ll be more obedient.”

He opened the door and threw you inside. The door slammed after you, leaving you locked in darkness. Trapped, until he calmed down. Or until you died. Whichever happens first.

[ultranos]

does the 600 day seige of ba sing se still happen leading to lu ten's death which snowballs into azulon being poisoned, ozai becoming firelord, and zuko being banished in the NWT azula au?

The siege still happens, and Lu Ten probably still dies, yes. But...well, things kind of go off the rails after that.

See, with Lu Ten dead, and Azula also 'dead', Azulon's not dumb enough to kill his only remaining grandchild. Because sure, he could order Ozai and Ursa to have more children, but who's to say the next one will be a firebender? Or worth it at all?

No, much safer to make due with what he has.

But there's no way Azulon would agree to his disfavored son being enthroned before Iroh, viable heir or not. So to square this particular circle, Azulon decides to give Zuko to Iroh.

No one takes this well.

Iroh, because his son just died, and Azulon is giving him his brother's son like the boy is some kind of replacement. It's an insult to Lu Ten's memory, and it's also the kind of pain Iroh wouldn't wish upon his younger brother, no matter how distant they are. (His younger brother who has already lost one child.)

Zuko, because he lost his sister, he lost his cousin, and now his grandfather is shattering his family even further by taking him from his parents.

Ozai, because, well, it's yet another insult from his father. Yet another thing Iroh takes from him.

But Ursa...oh man, Ursa goes nuclear. This is a woman who already lost one child. She lost a child and wasn't even able to hold her little girl in her arms one last time, to say how sorry she was for everything, for failing her, for not being able to save her. For not spending more time, any amount of time, even just a minute more with her daughter. Ursa has already had a child stolen from her and Azulon expects her to see her remaining child stolen from her without saying a word? Expects her to stay silent when her son is stolen from her side? It doesn't matter if Iroh is the "nice" one. It doesn't matter if Zuko would still remain in the palace. Azulon means to steal her son, her child, away from her, and she'll damn herself before she lets that happen.

Azulon factored in Zuko's reaction. He saw Ozai's reaction coming. He even anticipated Iroh's displeasure. But Ursa? Azulon does not see Ursa's wrath coming.

Azulon does not get to die from poison. Azulon has a very terrible accident falling down the stairs. Into a hail of fire. Very tragic, Ursa reports, having seen the whole thing. Much sadness.

(Nobody mentions the soot staining her fingers.)

Iroh decides he very much does not want to take the risk, and lets Ozai have the throne. Ursa does not leave the Fire Nation. And so Zuko never enters the war room one fine day, and so never has an Agni Kai against his father.

Later, Zhao's fleet being turned back is a surprise, given how underpowered the Northern Water Tribe should be. But in between stories about the Avatar and the Last Southern Waterbender from survivors comes a curious tale of girl who moved like a wolf across the snows, golden eyed and dressed in furs, who breathed fire the wrong color, who called down the storm and held lightning between her teeth.

Zuko kneels before his father's throne and swears to bring his sister home.

[melis-writes]

Moth to Flame [Michael Corleone x Reader Series, 18+ Smut] Chapter 26 - Bullets.

Read on AO3 / Read Chapter 25 [AO3] / Tumblr / Chapter Masterlist. / Fic Playlist.

18+, explicit smut read.

You and Michael find yourselves facing death directly as assassins have breached the Lake Tahoe compound, attacking in the middle of the night. Both of your quick thinking and reflexes saves you, but not everybody in your family is safe and sound. Suspicions rise as the search for the assassins goes awry, and your brother Lorenzo takes his frustrations out on Michael for endangering your life--believing you've become naïve and gullible. As your relationship with your brother dwindles, you attempt to protect your family and gain more than you bargained for, finding yourself split between being the daughter of Don Ferrari and the wife of Don Corleone.

[WARNINGS]: Violent themes / Minor alcohol use / Graphic descriptions of injury.

[AUTHOR'S NOTE]: Ended up finishing this chapter early, and it sure has been anticipated!! 😳🤞 Since this chapter is only focused on one scene from the movie, I was unable to use as many suggestions as I would have liked (I only go to use one 😭). Can't have smut during a time like this of course lmao, so I look forward to using tons for the next chapters! ❤ I also make my own gifs now, so expect quite a few to help paint out the scene!🤩 Since Vito and Sonny are alive in this AU, we get to see their reactions during the assassination attempt as well! Victoria's cunning and badass side has always been highly requested, and there will be plenty next chapter, but also quite a bit in this one as her quick thinking and intuition come into play! Lots of drama to expect as well, enjoy! 🤣

[SUGGESTIONS]: Anon for requesting: Vito and Michael bonding.

1949. Your name is Victoria Ferrari, and you’re the only daughter of one of the most powerful mafia families in New York—the Ferrari’s. When the Ferrari family began to gain heavy influence and power, it struck a power imbalance with the Corleone’s. To bind the families together as one in an offering of peace, friendship and business, you are to be married to their youngest son, Michael Corleone. As you ensnare yourself in the life of a mob wife by Michael’s side, what you don’t know is his old ties with Kay Adams, your best friend from Dartmouth, and that he returned from Sicily a widower. A ruthless mob boss to be, you unravel Michael’s dark past and the brutality that has changed his personality. You find yourself adapting to your new life, betrayed by those you love most, and in high profile to Ferrari and Corleone family enemies. Falling deeply in love with Michael, you enter a life and marriage filled with secrets and darkness. Bearing his children, supporting his crime empire and following him into the shadows, you’re unable to deny your passion and desire to the new Don. When it comes to Michael Corleone, you are but a moth to a flame.

In one moment, you were gazing back at Michael—confused as to why the drapes were completely drawn back to practically expose the entirety of your illuminated bedroom. A split second after, your eyes widened in horror to see Michael immediately duck down and onto the floor.

Michael had made out two shadowy figures engulfed in darkness, standing at a distance across from him to keep their identities hidden well but at enough of a length to shoot directly into the bedroom and at all sides.

From your angle in the bed, you weren’t able to spot out or even see any figures, to begin with. From the texture of the glass to the pitch black in the compound, Michael was unable to make out any features of the two assassins either—unknown to the both of you that they’re hired hitmen for the Ricci family.

Without any time to process or question what’s happening, bullets begin to fly at a rapid pace into the bedroom. Dozens shatter the windows completely, hitting the walls and trailing along to hit every angle of the bedroom as much as possible—all in an instant before your very eyes.

Your reflexes immediately kick up with the first few bullets breaking through the windows. You throw yourself off the bed, grabbing the blankets over top of your back to protect you from falling debris as you lay down as close as possible to the frame of the bed.

Michael lunges himself down to the floor, army crawling as quickly as he can without raising a muscle upwards. The next pair of bullets destroy a vase of flowers over your dresser and shoots out both of your lamps to pieces.

Twelve bullets fire over the mirror just across from you, shattering it to smithereens as you stare back at Michael in shock as he makes his way over to you in mere seconds.

The next hail of bullets begins firing at every other angle of the bedroom, hitting your nightstand just above you, the post of your bed, and over the back walls. Michael grabs at your arm, pulling you into his embrace and bracing you with his body.

Chunks of your bed frame fly off in contact with the bullets as parts of the walls crumble from the concentrated hit over several bullets over one area. You throw your hand back into the lower drawer of your nightstand, reaching inside to grab your handgun.

Michael hugs your body tightly, completely covering you as the bullets continue. You raise your head up in between Michael’s arms as he holds you down further to the floor, knowing that the next dozen will over your bed and towards the floor again.

You cock back your handgun, quick to raise it up to the gaping, jagged holes in the window as you fire back twice. Michael stares back at you in surprise, now noticing and processing the fact you shot back as the rain of bullets stops almost instantly.

Dropping your handgun but keeping it close to you, you shudder as you clutch at Michael’s dress shirt. You bury your face into his chest as he pants out, listening intently for another wave of bullets.

Silence kicks in as the last chunks of broken glass fall to the floor, confirming the end of the hail of bullets. Michael grunts, kneeling backward as he pulls you up to him, shaking you by your shoulders.

“Victoria—are you alright? Are you hit?!” He hisses to you in a hushed tone.

Michael’s hair now loosely dangles off his forehead as you shake your head back at him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “N-no!”

Michael breathes, planting a quick, reassuring kiss over your cheek as he hugs you tightly in his arms. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

Your hand brushes past his silky hair as you attempt to steady your breathing, nudging the handgun closer over to him. You swallow hard, nodding back at him frantically. “I think I may have hit one of them, Michael, I—”

“Shhh, shh, it’s alright.” Michael rakes a hand through the back of your hair, attempting to calm you down. “It’s over. It’s over now.”

Michael rubs up and down your arms tenderly, quick to pull the blankets off of you as he trails a hand down your sides, checking to see if you were hit or even skimmed by a piece of glass. Seeing you thankfully unharmed, he let out a shaky sigh of relief.

“Oh my God, the twins!” You whine out in panic, hearing alarms begin to blare and go off at every corner of the compound.

“It’s alright, come here.” Michael pulls you up to his feet with him, slowly beginning to rise as the sirens of his alarms and security grow louder and insistent. “Take the children and immediately go to the drawing room with the rest of the family, do you understand?”

You nod back at him, grabbing your handgun, “Michael, you know I could help you.”

“Not a chance in hell.” His eyes flicker down to your stomach as he shakes his head, “do as I say and make sure nobody takes a step out until I confirm it’s safe. Okay? Go!”

You swallow hard, quick to grab your nightrobe off your now tattered, bullet-ridden vanity chair and burst out of the bedroom without another word—Michael following from behind and out towards the front door of the residence.

Voices begin to break out into the night as various lights flash and angle towards every inch of the dark compound, illuminating everything in a blinding, white light. Sirens only continue to grow louder as Michael’s security and private hires scurry out of the compound, loading their firearms and racing to secure every entrance and exit.

“Mama!” The first cry you hear out through the hallway as you approach the bedroom of the twins across from each other is Verona’s.

You glance down at your firearm momentarily, quick to slip and conceal it between the pocket of your nightrobe as you shrug it on. You quickly push open the door to Verona’s bedroom, seeing Niccolo protectively hugging his sister, huddled in a corner—less fear in his eyes than Verona’s.

“Oh, Niccolo, Verona! It’s okay, I’m here!” You’re quick to notice the twins’ room hasn’t been affected in any manner as the children shakily rise to their feet, embracing your waistline. “Are you two alright?!” You kneel down, tenderly rubbing both of their shoulders.

“Yeah!” Verona pouts back.

“Mama, we heard everything!” Niccolo frantically glances around. “Where’s daddy?”

“Daddy’s dealing with it, alright? Don’t worry—Al and Rocco are with him. Come here, you two. Come quick, we have to get to safety.” You plant a quick kiss over both of their cheeks.

You scoop up Verona in one arm, holding Niccolo’s hand with the other as you race off down the hallway and towards the drawing-room.

“Victoria!” Your mother exclaims on the other side of the hallway, wrapping her nightgown around her. “What’s going on?!”

“Mama, come! Quick!” You gesture to her, not noticing her staggering movements. “Where’s the girls?!”

“We’re in here, Victoria! Come quickly!” Connie’s worried voice shouts out from the drawing-room across the residence.

“Come on, come on!” You nod back to your mother and the twins, avoiding as many windows as possible as you all enter the drawing-room—quick to throw the door shut behind you.

~

Two of Michael’s guards, heavily armed, race to the front gates that remain loosely open, quick to push them back in place, locked shut as another vehicle of security quickly pulls up. Several more rays of light begin to shine over the residence building, boathouse, and yacht deck.

“Secure the compound immediately! Double-check all entrances and exits!” Sonny shouts out to security by the gate, quickly loading his pistol. “Don’t let those bastards escape at any cost!”

Michael steps out to the front of the residence, raking a frustrated hand through his now tousled, floppy hair as his eyes quickly examine the damage done through the windows.

He turns his head at the sight of Rocco quickly rushing his way over with two other men approaching Michael.

“They’re still on the property.” Rocco breathes out, placing a hand upon Michael’s shoulder. “Please, Michael, please stay inside.”

Michael grits his teeth in frustration, gazing out towards the gate before he turns his attention back to Rocco, pressing his finger over his chest to warn him. “Keep them alive.” Michael turns back on his heel towards the entrance.

“We’ll try.” Rocco nods, catching his breath.

Michael stops in his tracks instantly, spinning back angrily and pointing a finger directly at Rocco. “ROCCO, ALIVE!”

The sound of the first bullet firing through your bedroom window is heard from the other side of the compound—muffled as it is, easy to confuse as fireworks or even a loud thud.

Lorenzo was the first to practically leap out of bed and grab at his pistol off the nightstand, attempting to pinpoint which direction the shooting was coming from before comforting his startled wife and taking her out into the hallway with him.

Joined by his brothers, Matteo stayed behind with Dante and the Ferrari wives to secure their end of the residence. Lorenzo immediately stepped out with Leonardo and Alessio—nightrobe or pajamas—it mattered not. All of your brothers were armed and spread out over the residence, signaling to each other in silence.

Leonardo was concerned with where and who the assassins were, refusing to waste time trying to understand why it happened, whereas Alessio was thinking how. It only became clear to Lorenzo in an instant that the bullets hadn’t entered Michael’s office but his bedroom, where he was very well aware you were vulnerable.

Lorenzo’s concern for your safety and well-being fuels a burning anger inside of him, separated towards both Michael and the unknown assassins. His growing, apparent dislike for Michael takes over the other, leaving him with one thought in his mind: 'Michael Corleone endangered my sister.'

It was no longer about coincidences or being in the wrong place at the wrong time, nor could it be excused by “she’s his wife and sleeps in his bed.” It was strictly about the fact that Michael had placed his wife in danger when he could have done it for himself. Lorenzo wouldn’t have cared half as much if bullets began flying in Michael’s office if you weren’t physically present yourself.

While Leonardo and Alessio had joined up to secure the main gates and entry points with Al Neri and Rocco, Lorenzo went straight for Don Corleone himself.

Michael lingered by the front door—a hand over his hip with the other raking through his hair as he gives out a frustrated huff. Naturally, the Don’s notorious brutality came from giving orders in the dark to seal the fates of others—sending the same methods of assassinations that had turned on him and you tonight.

Whether the shooting failed or succeeded meant nothing for Lorenzo, who believes he already has enough reasons in the world to dislike Michael. You only serve as a buffer for respect and good relations, but now your relationship and “interference” will only cause it to sour further.

Lorenzo storms over to Michael from across the compound residence.

Michael only has a split second to turn his head to face Lorenzo, who grabs at Michael’s dress shirt angrily, beginning to shake him.

“You son of a bitch.” Lorenzo scowls at Michael. “You couldn’t get yourself killed, so you had to drag my sister in it too?”

“How you ever got so comfortable with thinking you could touch me—” Michael throws off Lorenzo’s grasp with ease, shoving him off. “I’ll never know, but you have thirty seconds to explain yourself and your unwarranted hostility before I assume it was you who did it.”

“Me?” Lorenzo points his gun at his own chest, “are you out of your goddamn mind? You know my wife and kids are back there, fearing for their lives! As is yours, my fucking sister.”

“You like being difficult.” Michael pulls out his handgun from his back pocket, tapping it against the palm of his hand. “In the real world, you get killed for that kind of foolish behavior."

“You’ve got better things to worry about than what I hold in my hand.”

“You’re right, I do, and unfortunately, I’m here dealing with your childish outburst than the matter at hand.” Michael rolls his eyes. “What do you want, Lorenzo?”

“Where’s my sister, Michael?!” Lorenzo raises his voice.

“She’s inside.” Michael’s tone grows to match with Lorenzo’s. “Inside with the rest of the family, safe as she should be.”

“You better fucking hope she’s safe. I know this isn’t the first time you’ve endangered her life, isn’t it?” Lorenzo points an accusing finger back at Michael. “You want to make enemies? Fine, but make them alone. She doesn’t deserve this.”

“You think I do?”

Lorenzo scoffs, glancing off to the side. “I could care less because that isn’t any of my business.”

“Neither is Victoria.” Michael maintains stern eye contact with Lorenzo, his expression harshening.

“She’s my sister.” Lorenzo spits out.

“And she’s my wife and the mother to my children—not to mention a grown woman who can make her own decisions and fend for herself.” Michael asserts.

None of Lorenzo’s insults even come close to phasing Michael, who continues to maintain his collected, stern manner.

“She’s my wife and does as I say for our family.”

“You think you intimidate me…” Lorenzo glares into Michael’s eyes. “But that’s all talk and no action from you. You underestimate how my sister would feel—what she would say if she saw you like this.”

“She’s a Corleone.” Michael holds his eye contact with Lorenzo, “and she does and acts like a Corleone.”

“She’s a Ferrari, and you should know better by now that she won’t refuse her own blood first.”

“Since you’re ever so insistent, I’ll prove it to you.” Michael gestures his arm out towards the gates where Rocco and Al Neri are. “Find Rocco and ask for Victoria. He’s already under my orders to make sure she stays inside. We’ll see who she chooses to go to if that’s good enough for you.”

“Hope you aren’t too disappointed, Don. Wouldn’t want any harsh feelings between either of us, especially tonight when we should be looking out for our families.” Lorenzo replies.

Michael crosses his arms. “For as far as I’m concerned, the assassins are still on the compound.”

“It’s so like you to get others to do your dirty work, ‘Don’ Corleone.” Lorenzo rolls his eyes. “Maybe it’s not tonight, but one day you’ll see you actually need to act.”

~

“It’s alright, it’s okay—” Your heart thunders in your chest as you take the twins over to the couch, grabbing a throw blanket and quickly cuddling it over them.

“Daddy’s going to kill all the bad guys!” Niccolo exclaims out, completely certain of himself.

“Your father and all of your uncles—they just rushed out there without even thinking about it!” Connie huddles by an armchair with her two boys sitting by her side.

“Oh, God, Sonny’s out there too!” Sandra huffs, worry crossing over her eyes. “He just up and left!”

“What the hell is going on out there?!” Theresa shudders, rubbing at her arms.

“Someone’s breached the compound.” You rub at your temple gingerly, shaking your head. “It was supposed to be a hit—it came from the bedroom, and—” Your eyes grow wide at the sight of your mother shaking and struggling to breathe by the couch, a small pool of blood soaking through the side of her nightgown. “Mama?! What—”

“V-Victoria, I’m fine, I’m just—” Your mother shakes her head, pressing her hand down over the wound. “It just skimmed me. I-I didn’t even notice.”

“Grandma?!” Verona’s little eyes pool up with tears.

Sandra leans over to the couch, hugging the twins and blocking their view over to your mother. “Hey, hey! It’s okay, grandma is going to be alright! Come here, you two. Come here.”

“Oh my God, oh my God…” Connie takes her face into her hands, beginning to panic.

“Mama, quickly, let me see! Theresa—get me the first AID kit!” You gesture back at her in a hurry, helping your mother carefully push aside her nightgown to reveal the wound.

Your mother winces, biting down on her lip as she reveals a small, chestnut-sized but deep gash on her side—oozing with fresh blood and in desperate need of stitches. Feeling tears sting at your eyes, a wave of anger washes over you at the sight of your mother’s injury.

You practically tear open the first AID kit when Theresa hands it to you, rummaging through the kit to clean around the wound. You notice now that Sandra has picked up both the twins in her arms and heads off towards the end of the room, humming to them.

“Victoria—” Your mother grunts, gripping onto the arm of the sofa.

“Mama, I need you to stay as still as possible, okay?” You glance back up at her—eyes filled with urgency. “I need to stitch this up—Theresa, grab me that lighter over there. Breathe, mama, breathe!”

Your mother takes deep breaths, tilting her head back onto the sofa.

Theresa hands you the lighter within the first AID kit, cleaning the blood gently around her gash. You pick up a suture needle, flickering the flame over it to sterilize it.

“I’ve got you, mama, stay still for me. Don’t move an inch.” Quick with your fingers and familiar with the first AID kit that you’ve worked with before on numerous occasions, you prepare the suture without letting your hands shake or drop anything throughout the process.

“Alright, mama, take a slow, deep breath for me—I want to make this as painless and quick for you as possible, okay? I need to get your wound closed up. Bear with me!” You force yourself to ignore your mother’s distraught whimpers of pain as you use your fingers to pull the wound together.

You stick the first suture from the needle through the skin, out the wound, and back through it from the other side and out of the skin as your mother winces in pain. Theresa watches in utter surprise to see how you pull the skin together, tying it off with a double knot and clipping at the excess.

“Easy now…” Not too tight nor too loose, you secure the first suture, working back with the next halfway between the end of the wound and the last stitch. You only repeat the process two more times before the wound is completely sealed in just a few minutes.

“Oh, thank God!” Theresa sniffles, handing you a roll of gauze as you begin to carefully wrap it around her side, sighing out in relief as Connie kneels her way over to the three of you.

“Victoria, sweetheart—oh, oh, God, how? How—” Your mother croaks out, steadying her breathing as she gazes back at you in shock. “How…how did you—”

You shake your head at her, rising to your feet, “it’s nothing I haven’t taught myself. Don’t worry about that right now. Stay put, okay? Lay down as you are, don’t lay a finger on the bandages.”

“Where are you going, Victoria?!” Connie frowns back at you. “Sure as hell not out there; you know it’s not safe!”

“This is nothing, Connie! Bullets have flown over my head before!” You pull open the door, glancing back at the three. “Just stay put and with mama—I need to find my brothers and Michael!” You brush off the two, quick to storm out of the drawing-room and towards your study as fast as your feet can take you.

“You’re insane, I swear! If Michael finds out—” You hear Connie shout back behind you. “Victoria!”

~

“Stay by the door.” Rocco cautions one of the guards by the front entrance, quickly rushing back off towards the gate as five other guards make their way over to him, covering ground. “Move out and release the hounds!”

With the entirety of the compound completely surrounded and secured, a private hire by the hounds' cage quickly pries off the locks and throws them open. Five German Shepherds sprint out, barking as they separate onto different sides of the compound, with one going into the drain tube.

You tighten your night robe around you, holding your handgun upwards with both hands carefully wrapped around it and off the trigger. Slipping out the side entrance, you immediately lean your back against the wall, analyzing your surroundings and keeping your breathing and movements as quiet as possible.

Rotating lights flash all over and around the compound, leaving not an inch to succumb to the night’s darkness. Everything around you is perfectly illuminated, and you easily make out Michael’s security and private hires arming themselves and roaming around with their guard dogs.

You keep your eyes focused on your surroundings as you keep moving towards the other side of the compound, where you and Michael’s bedroom remains on the ground floor. From the corner of your eye, you can see three heavily armed guards just outside your window and one inside the bedroom, checking around for any signs of struggle or evidence leftover.

You furrow your brows, knowing you didn’t hear the two bullets you fired off go into the air and disappear. T'hey must have hit something or someone, but what?' Out of sight from Michael’s men, you take another look at the shattered windows from an angle, stepping back.

'If I had shot slightly from the right, then I’d have to stand here to get a perfect view of the bedroom…' You move back a bit further, finding your hypothetical spot as your eyes land onto a small pool of blood not far from where you’re standing.

'My bullet didn’t fail me.' A small sense of relief washes over you as you carefully begin to track the trail of blood droplets leading outward to the drains—a perfect hiding spot as no lights shine directly over or inside of it.

'I must have hit toward his lower body. His side, or leg perhaps?' You’re just about to continue following the rest of the blood when you hear footsteps rushing towards you, coupled with a familiar voice.

“Mrs. Corleone!” You hear Al Neri calling out from behind you.

You rise to your feet, pointing your firearm downward as you turn your head to see Al make his way over with two men, bewildered to see you. “Mrs. Corleone, it’s not safe here! You shouldn’t be outside.”

“One of them is hit.” You ignore Al’s warning, pointing down at the fresh blood over the pavement.

“Hit?” Al glances down, his eyes widening.

He looks back up at his men and gives them a small nod. “Track it down immediately; we might still be able to catch them alive.” Al’s men waste no time as they begin to track the blood trail with one of the German shepherds, leaving the two of you alone.

“Mrs. Corleone—”

“Victoria. Call me Victoria, please.” You correct back quickly, shaking your head. “Where’s Michael?”

“He just went inside to find you, Mrs—Victoria.” Al gestures back to the residence, “please, you really shouldn’t be out here. Michael explicitly forbad it. The intruders are still on the property—it’s dangerous. They must have struggled to escape after—”

“I shot one of them, Al.” You interrupt him again. “I fired twice, and I know one of my bullets hit them. This blood trail is all that you got, so make use of it, and let me—”

“I can’t let you do anything, Victoria.” Al frowns back at you, “I know who you are, believe me, but Michael will not allow it. He’d have my head if he knew I let you stay outside this long. Please, we don’t want anything to happen to you, and he’s looking for you inside.”

You sigh out, putting your handgun back into the pocket of your nightgown. “At least tell me where my brothers are.”

“They’re with Rocco and I back at the gates.” Al points behind him, “Don Ferrari is there as well. They were one of the first to arrive before security even made clearance.”

“Alright, good, let them know immediately about this, do you understand?” You point a finger down at the bloodstain. “Hounds tracking or not, they’re going to want to see this.”

“Lorenzo is also looking for you,” Al mentions, a look of discomfort crossing his face knowing it directly intervenes with Michael’s orders. “He’s back by the gates with Rocco.”

You glance behind Al for a moment to make out the armed guards by the gate before glancing back at Al with your quick decision. “Tell him to come find me once this is all over. I’m heading inside to find Michael.”

“Will do, and one more thing—Victoria?” Al glances back at you as you’re just about to head back around to the side entrance.

“Yes?”

Al’s eyes dart from the distance of the bedroom window before they land back on the droplets of blood, in disbelief himself before he faces you again. “Your aim is incredible.”

“I’m aware, thank you.” Without another word, you turn back behind the residence building again towards the entrance you came out of.

~

Against Michael’s wishes, you had stepped outside just as he had made his way back in with a handful of men. The living room and your study, as well as other consequent areas surrounding the bedroom and your residence’s half were immediately covered by security continuing to roam around.

Clearance was given over the bedroom foremost, more so concerned with the surrounding area and the fact a separate shooting—albeit a short one—was also fired into the library where your mother was by herself.

Initially, the hit and targets made sense to Michael. Naturally, he assumed they were for him, though it could have also been for the both of you out of convenience. While you weren’t really considered “high profile,” you were known with your status and name for the past five years, consistently and publicly by Michael’s side as well. None of that rules out the possibility of a planned, double assassination.

Confusion hit at the target of your mother in the library where the drapes were drawn back as well. Bullets didn’t begin to fire through until well after you and Michael had ducked, meaning the hit over either one of you came first, which would signal the next.

It was when your mother noticed the drapers herself and the light peeking through that she went to close them and saw a figure looming right against the window. Quick on her feet, as you had learned from her, she had ducked too, shielding herself with the various bookshelves between her, but not before a bullet had grazed her side.

Out of adrenaline and fear, she hadn’t even felt it hit her or knew where the bullet landed. She had ignored the pain and sensation entirely until she began to regain her senses with you and the girls in the drawing-room, then feeling the burning and stinging of her gash.

What Michael didn’t know was that he was the only one targeted, and it had nothing to do with you. Alphonse Ricci’s terms were clear—you weren’t to be harmed at all costs, and if Michael was injured, he would need to be killed immediately, and you would have to be taken.

Had you gotten injured or killed yourself or alongside him, you would have been considered nothing but collateral damage—much to Alphonse’s fury, but that would seem to be an unavoidable one.

Of course, Alphonse had not planned for his men to simply come in and out looking for you and Michael. Instead of keeping his backup plan for another planned shooting that would most likely not be guaranteed to ever take place, he decided to go through with it on the same night.

His instructions were clear to Johnny Ola, who orchestrated the shooting with the remaining few men loyal to the Ricci family: “Fredo had made it very clear Victoria’s family stays on both sides of the compound—residence or not. Regardless of who, find out who remains the closest to the Don’s living quarters, whether it be a child, her brothers, or someone else. Michael is your ultimate target, but you are not to leave the Lake Tahoe compound until you’re certain you’ve killed one of the Ferrari’s.”

Don Alphonse Ricci’s planned hit had failed miserably, to say the least, but it succeeded on other fronts besides death. Was it truly safe to be affiliated with the Corleone family? To stay with them, to begin with, if their compound was susceptible to a breach? Michael wouldn’t waste his time pondering such questions, but Lorenzo Ferrari would and did.

A shooting in the middle of the night with both family’s children around—one bullet fired, unmissed, matched with two in return from you. You hadn’t lied when you told Connie this wasn’t the first time you had bullets flying over your head—nor was it the second or the fifth.

Your attention to detail played out well, although you would have never guessed it to be followed by an assassination attempt. You had trained yourself well growing up, constantly involved and around the mafia and its rivaling families.

If it’s one thing you know better than the back of your hands, it’s bullets, assassinations, and death. The first one flew over your head when you were sixteen, and your reflexes alongside your quick thinking, ability to stay calm and focused only emphasized your desire to fight back just as it did tonight.

Your adrenaline took over you in a way like none other. You were able to ignore the tender, sore pain in your feet from a night of dancing with it, and it only bolstered your courage to step out and hunt the assassins yourself. You didn’t even have to think twice about it.

Engulfed in anger and shock from the assassination directly after the celebration dinner, Michael was initially unable to let it all sink in. His wife did not just come with the title of being Don Ferrari’s daughter, but with the same skills as her father that made him feared throughout New York and Sicily.

“She said something about finding you and her brothers, Michael!” Connie protests out, gesturing to the door in frustration.

“And you just let her leave?” Michael glares back, “I thought I made myself very clear when I said—”

“Michael!” You push back to open the door to the drawing-room, stepping inside. “I’m here; it’s alright.”

Michael’s eyes immediately dart over to yours, flicking up and down over your body for any visible signs of harm—even a scratch over your nightrobe. His expression is filled with both relief and frustration in that split second before he makes direct eye contact with you.

Blush immediately fills your cheeks as your eyes meet his. With his suit jacket shrugged back on, Michael has one hand in his pocket and the other holding a half-smoked cigarette. His once brushed and lightly slicked back hair now remains parted from the left and tousled, waved over his forehead.

Just the sight of him as such with his signature stern look is enough to cause the butterflies in your stomach to twist and turn about at the most inappropriate time and setting you could think of.

Your eyes briefly break from his, much to your own surprise to see Connie standing a few feet away from him, sighing in relief to herself quietly as she takes her seat upon one of the armchairs again.

Theresa sits upon the corner of the couch where your mother was, now nowhere to be seen. The brief look of confusion in your eyes is relieved by Michael’s reassuring ones, telling you all that you need to know. 'He must have called for Doctor Katherine. So does that mean the assassins are…?'

Michael’s expression twists into a scowl as if he’s read your very thoughts, all occurring in a manner of mere seconds. “Victoria, where were you? Did I not tell you to stay here with Connie and the others for your own safety?”

“Michael, I’m fine!” You protest out, “I was just around the property—”

“Still not listening to me.” Michael narrows his eyes as Connie gazes back down at the floor. “Did you go out to see your brothers?”

“No, I didn’t even see them out there. Al told me they were by the gate with my father, but…” You blink back at Michael in confusion, now beginning to head up towards him. “I stepped out because I knew I had hit something or someone—there’s a blood trail right outside the windows, Michael. I got Al to track it down with his men.”

Michael’s eyes soften at your response, secretly pleased with your decision to return to him without seeing your brothers, and specifically Lorenzo, but mostly at your safe return without going elsewhere in the compound against his wishes.

“Leave it to him now and him only.” Michael brushes you off. “I’m aware of what you did, but it’s not apparent to you that you could have put yourself in harm's way? There’s a pair of assassins out there—it’s unacceptable you leave the compound even for just a moment, do you understand? If you were hurt—”

“But I’m not.” You pout back at him, “I’ve been through this before, Michael, just ask my fa—”

“Your father would be disappointed in you just as much as I because you’re a mother and potentially expecting.” Michael’s eyes cautiously glance over your stomach.

You frown, your eyes meeting with Theresa’s. “Is mama…?”

“Alessio’s fiancé—the nurse—is with her in the other room.” Theresa eagerly nods back at you. “She’s doing just fine. She just wanted to rest.”

“Thank God.” You rub at your temples gingerly.

You peek back at Michael, who clears his throat quietly to catch your attention. He carefully sets his cigarette over the ashtray, gesturing you to approach him with his finger. “Come here.”

Deepening blush returning to your cheeks, you walk up to Michael, who slips his hand out of his pocket, gazing over at you. He places both hands over your shoulders, rubbing them tenderly before letting out a sigh. He knows he can’t stay mad at you for long or have a longer scolding in front of your sisters-in-law.

Michael slides his hands down your arms and to your sides as he gives your hips a gentle squeeze. Looking into your eyes, he asks, “are you alright?”

“Yeah.” You breathe out as his arms embrace your waist as he pulls you in for a loving hug.

Your heart begins to race as your chest is pressed up against Michael's, feeling his warmth as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. The scent of his cologne lingers back up to your nose as the comfort of his embrace melts the worry and fear in you almost immediately, granting you a sense of safety by his side.

“Don’t ever disobey me again, understand?” Michael murmurs quietly, only audible for you to hear as he pulls away from you. Before you can even answer him, he trails his fingers down your lips, never leaving his eyes off of you for a moment. “Ever.”

“Yes, Michael.” Flushing red, you nod back at him.

Your little moment is interrupted by the door clicking open again as you turn to see Sandra carrying a sleeping Verona in her arms. Esther, the nanny, remains behind her, holding Niccolo, giving you and Michael a polite smile before she enters in front of Sandra, gently laying Niccolo over the couch next to Theresa, snuggled up in a blanket.

“There they are, all asleep…” You whisper, pulling away from Michael.

You carefully take Verona from her arms, sitting next to Theresa and Niccolo as she stirs from her sleep in your arms. Planting a little kiss upon her head, you lean your back against the couch and wrap your arms around her, letting her sleep over your chest.

Esther sits quietly by Sandra and Connie as Michael picks up his cigarette once more, keeping his distance from the children as he smokes the last bit of it. One hand back into his pocket, the room falls to silence as he slowly makes his way around, lingering by the sofa and armchair for a few moments.

Gazing at his sleeping children, you keep your eyes down and your ears keenly listening to pick up on anything going on outside. One of the first things you notice about the windows is how tightly drawn back the curtains are now.

Keeping your flustered disposition to a minimum and eyes upon the floor, you hear Michael slowly walking around the couch, now approaching the center of the room as he takes a final, long drag of his cigarette.

Michael drops his arm to his side after taking the drag, coming closer to the ashtray as his eyes land back on you again. Unnoticed by you, you remain quiet, stroking Verona’s hair gently as your mind buzzes with a million unanswered questions.

Michael puts out his cigarette, only pulling his eyes away from you for a moment before his gaze returns. Before him doesn’t remain a frightened or unnerved woman, but a daughter and wife of the mafia that made it easier for Michael’s assassins to be hunted down without batting an eye.

Michael had the utmost confidence in you, as much as he won’t admit to your face. The mere facts lie at hand to prevent him from doing so: you could be pregnant again with his child, and you’re a mother of two, not to mention he would never forgive himself, let alone have your family do so if there was even a slight risk of you getting hurt.

He believes and is very well aware of your prowess even before tonight, but his mind doesn’t lay in how you or he can react to an assassination. It lies with who did it, how, and why—all questions Michael knows he won’t have straight answers to by the end of the night.

You peek your eyes back up to Michael, only causing you to blush further as you realize he was gazing over you the entire time. Intricacies of the assassination aside, the look you give him is one of concern: none of this would matter if it didn’t involve the family, but it did.

Your mother got injured, and it could have been worse. The twins could have been harmed or killed in the hail of bullets themselves. A million other ways for this night to become a complete tragedy play out in your head, only reflected in your eyes back to Michael.

Noticing your expression, Michael purses his lips, turning his head away from you. Without another word, he straightens out his suit jacket, leaving to meet with his father and brothers with one thought on his mind: the assassins are already dead.

~

With both family residences officially secured, Michael makes his way down the hallway and to the other half to the private living room used by the Corleone family—often filled with his brothers lounging about or Vito and Carmela relaxing together.

Such casual relaxation and any notion of a carefree attitude are practically non-existent as Michael approaches the door, quietly pushing it open to see Vito sitting across from him at the table.

Michael takes a step in, closing the door behind him as he makes eye contact with his father. Vito gazes up into his son’s eyes—his expression softening as he gives out a little sigh of relief. He rises to his feet as Michael walks up to him, coming to face to face with one another.

“Michael.” Vito places both hands over his son’s shoulders, rubbing them gently.

“Father, how are you?” Michael murmurs back to him, his voice low and filling with concern.

“I’m fine.” Vito nods back at him, “your mother and I are fine. We heard everything—the commotion and all. Your wife and children—are they alright?”

“They’re doing okay, pop.” Michael replies, “Victoria’s mother was injured, but it’s all under control now.”

“Dear God,” Vito mumbles, shaking his head in disbelief. “It’s as if it was over before it even started. Look at you.” Vito pats Michael’s shoulders, glancing up and down at him. “They caught you by surprise—whoever they are, but they didn’t catch you at all. Did they teach you that quick thinking in the military?”

“They did.” Michael nods.

Vito cracks a small smile, always having avoided the topic of the war or Michael’s days in the army due to years of his continuous disapproval of Michael fighting for strangers—a country that wasn’t his blood.

Before him remained many versions of his son that reminded him of his youth in New York. Michael was not only his youngest son, but a war hero, a Don, a father, and a husband. The family and the mafia’s characterized solely by his principles and cunning.

“Come here,” Vito whispers, pulling Michael into an embrace.

Michael hugs his father lightly, relaxing his muscles as Vito pats his back, relieved of the tension and unease the evening carried over him as he feared the worst for his son and daughter-in-law. Michael could sense his father’s worry and concern from just the look in his eyes, let alone a father-son hug Michael hadn’t felt in months.

Two muffled pairs of footsteps break out from down the hall—coming from Sonny and Tom as Michael and Vito pull away from each other. Vito pats Michael’s cheeks with both hands lightly, giving him another nod as he takes his seat with Michael.

Michael shifts in his chair as he sits down, intertwining his hands together upon the table as his father speaks up.

“Michael,” Vito rests the side of his face against his fingers, speaking softly. “I’ve always wanted you to carry on the legacy of the family and our business, but I’ve always supported you either way—even when you went against my wishes. I retired to our family a long time ago, so tonight, I cannot offer you advice the way a Don would, as I no longer am one, but I will offer aid as a father and as a businessman.” He gestures his free hand towards the door, knowing Sonny and Tom are to arrive at any moment. “You know your enemies far better than I.”

“I know, father. And I’m grateful for your insight.” Michael is briefly interrupted by the sound of knocking over the door. “Yeah, come in.” He raises his voice louder for his brothers to hear.

The door pushes open to reveal a rather flustered and irritated Sonny attempting to steady his temper with a solemn yet concerned Tom behind him, still in his nightrobes. The two waste no time shutting the door behind them quietly, making their way over to the table to take their seats.

“Santino, you’re a mess.” Vito points out to him, noticing his disposition and how his dress shirt has crinkled and loosely buttoned-up, hanging loosely off his shoulders. “You couldn’t let Michael’s men do their job?”

“Michael’s men.” Sonny scoffs, slouching back in his seat. “Michael’s men my ass—no offense, Mikey, but they haven’t been able to do shit so far. We can’t find ‘em.”

“So what’s Rocco been up to this entire time?” Michael raises a brow, keeping his tone calm and collected. “He has all of our men with Neri at his disposal.”

“He’s got nothing but his own dick in his hands,” Sonny mutters, clearly agitated. “I went out there to see if I could find them myself. Fuckers are either dead or hiding to only postpone the inevitable.”

“Mikey, are you alright?” Tom’s eyes flicker onto Michael’s.

Michael gives a small nod, taking out his pack of cigarettes from inside his suit jacket’s pocket. “Everyone’s fine, Tom.”

“And Victoria’s mother?” Sonny rakes a hand through his curls. “They caught that poor woman in their line of fire.”

“They did it on purpose.” Michael cuts in, slipping his cigarette in between the center of his mouth and lighting it. “We weren’t their only targets for tonight.”

“But what’s the significance of shooting Don Ferrari’s wife? She isn’t involved in the mafia anymore, is she? I mean, I knew she helped with smuggling operations back in the day, but…” Tom shrugs to himself, unable to make sense of it.

“She may not have been chosen specifically,” Michael answers, taking a small drag of his cigarette. “But I assumed they weren’t going to go down without some form of terrorization or at least one body.”

“But they failed,” Vito adds.

“They failed, but we still can’t find the bastards,” Sonny grumbles, pulling the bottle of Courvoisier cognac towards him from the table along with one of the shot glasses.

“What can you tell us, Mikey?” Tom sits up straight.

“There’s a lot I can’t tell you, Tom.” Michael leans in, eyeing both of his brothers. “That goes for the both of you. I know that’s upset you in the past, Tom, but up until today, I’ve had my reasons, and I had to make sure.” Michael holds his cigarette between his fingers, “I had to make sure I could protect both of you.”

Sonny pours himself a shot of cognac, listening with Tom, who nods back intently at Michael.

“Don’t take it the wrong way. It has nothing to do with a lack of trust or confidence, but it’s because I admire you two. You’re my brothers, and I love you.” Michael affirms, “and it’s because of that I had to keep things secret from the family. At this moment, you’re the only three that I can completely trust.”

Vito purses his lips, knowing Michael purposely excluded Fredo out but for an abundance of reasons even clear to him when he was choosing one of his sons to succeed him years ago.

“Fredo?” Michael looks back towards Vito. “Ah, he’s got a good heart, but he’s weak, and he’s stupid. This is life and death.”

Sonny grimaces, knowing he loves his brother deeply, but Michael doesn’t have to confirm to him his beliefs about Fredo because he was already under the impression himself.

“Tom, you’re my brother.” Michael places a hand over Tom’s arm. “You are. I’ve always considered you one.”

Tom takes a deep breath, troubled by the events of tonight and in a mix of emotions himself. Tearing up a little, he swallows hard. “I’ve always wanted to be thought of like a brother to you, Mikey—to the family. A real brother.”

“You’re my brother,” Michael repeats back at him softly.

“And mine, Tom.” Sonny gazes back over at him. “Since the day you came home with me."

Tom makes eye contact with Vito, who gives him a warm, reassuring smile of agreement. Sonny slides over another shot glass, this time pouring in cognac for Tom and moving it over to him.

“Sonny.” Michael redirects his attention to his older brother, taking another drag from his cigarette. “You’re gonna take over. You’re gonna be the Don.” Sonny raises his brows in intrigue as Michael continues, “if what I think has happened, has happened, I’m going to leave here tonight. I give you complete power, and with Tom—” Michael’s eyes dart over to Tom. “Over Fredo and his men, Rocco, Neri, everyone. I’m trusting you both with the lives of my wife and my children—the future of our family.”

Tom glances back down at his drink, “if we catch these guys, do you think we’ll be able to find out who's backing them up?”

“We’re not going to catch them.” Sonny shakes his head.

“He’s right.” Michael agrees, flicking off the ashes from the tip of his cigarette. “Unless I’m very wrong, they’re dead already. They were killed by somebody close to us.” Michael nods back to his father. “Someone on the inside whose very, very afraid they’ve botched it.”

“You think it’s one of your people? Neri or Rocco having something to do with it?” Tom clears his throat.

Michael exhales deeply, setting his cigarette down. “All of our people are businessmen at the end of the day, so their loyalty is based on that. One thing I learned from pop—” Michael redirects his attention to Vito “—is to try and think as the people around you think. On that basis, anything is possible. Anything.”

“What about…” Sonny grazes his teeth over his lips, uncomfortable at the very suggestion. “Victoria’s brothers? Do you suspect them?” The very question piques Vito’s interest.

“I suspect everybody at all times, Sonny,” Michael answers plainly. “As hot-headed and overzealous as Lorenzo Ferrari maybe, he would never do something so stupid. He’d never endanger himself or his own family. His thoughts are with his sister tonight, and he has enough blame to pass over me.”

“That’s ridiculous, Mikey.” Tom frowns. “Why would he accuse you of anything? Weren’t all of us potential victims, or could have been if we were in the wrong place at the wrong time?”

“You’re right, Tom, but an assassin wouldn’t have to target my bedroom if he wanted to kill me.” Michael continues smoking his cigarette. “It’s clear Victoria is involved somehow. That makes it very personal to me. It’s a separate conversation I’ll be having with her father as well.”

“Victoria?” Sonny raises a brow. “What about her?”

“She’s proven more resilient than anything.” Michael grazes his tongue against his teeth. “She fired back at them mid shooting, which you can thank for leaving that blood trail.”

“Holy shit,” Sonny mutters to himself, clearing his throat. “I mean, I know I shouldn’t be surprised, but still.” Sonny pours himself another shot, taking a cigarette for himself.

“Even if she had a target painted on her back, she could handle it like the rest of us, but she won’t. I won’t allow her.” Michael’s expression falls stern. “And I certainly don’t believe I need to get into the reasons as to why not, but I’m not having the mother of my children doing Neri or Rocco’s work for them. I’m leaving it up to the two of you to let them know that as well.”

“It’s this Ricci business that keeps coming up.” Vito sighs quietly. “He would surprise us all if he wasn’t involved somehow.”

“If he’s involved, then he’d only confirm my theory that this was an inside job.” Michael’s eyes harden at the very name of Don Alphonse Ricci.

“Are you going to have him killed?” Tom takes a small sip of his cognac.

“Soon, after I know enough.” Michael nods back. “I’ll kill him myself.”

~

An hour has passed by since the shooting, leaving only shattered glass and chunks of drywall and furniture lying in a wake of dust. No bodies, no suspects—nothing. Michael’s men don’t falter their search, now roaming the entirety of the compound in groups of two or three with hounds, flashlights—heavily armed.

All entrances and exits to and from the compound are fully secured, including the surrounding pathways and road, yet nothing has come out of it still. Michael’s men keep their eyes now both in worry and suspicion at Rocco Lampone, who continues to lead the search.

With each passing moment that the assassins are not apprehended or found in some way, the same thoughts trickle into everyone’s minds: Someone let them out, or it’s an inside job—both very dangerous thoughts to spill out knowing that if Michael shared the same sentiment, Rocco wouldn’t see the light of day without a doubt.

Your father came in to comfort you, then his grandchildren, reassuring them about their grandmother briefly before Doctor Katherine arrived on the compound grounds. One of Michael’s private hires accompanied her for the sake of security as well as on grounds for cautious suspicion. With the Ferrari residence heavily guarded, Doctor Katherine provides your mother medical treatment and antibiotics as your father remains by her side.

Leonardo’s your only brother that didn’t nearly spend as much time with security as the others. Instead, he accepted that Rocco had failed Michael and consequently the Corleone and Ferrari families together with the inadequate search party. Whether Leonardo would tell Michael what he thought of it and his own suspicions this evening completely relied on whether Don Corleone figured enough for himself already.

Matteo had remained behind in residence, only speaking with the guards surrounding it before ushering his nieces and nephews back to sleep. He assured they were sleeping soundly and wouldn’t be disturbed before he briefly stepped out for a breath of fresh air, making small talk with the guards on updates of what was going on.

Matteo didn’t lose faith in Michael, as did neither of your brothers except for Lorenzo. Matteo, Alessio, and Leonardo believed in the wit and cunning of Don Corleone, not just as a business partner but as a brother-in-law. Whether Michael found the assassins or not mattered very little to the three; they knew Michael would easily figure out who to blame for the lack of apprehension, and so far, all eyes were on Rocco Lampone—including Al Neri’s.

Leonardo entered the Corleone family residence to ensure Niccolo and Verona that all was fine and everything was back to normal—somewhat half lies. The twins both remain defiant in that they refuse to go to sleep until they see their parents head back inside to do so, so the least Leonardo can do is remain by their side alongside Connie, whom he comforts with her head over his shoulder and a hand wrapped around her waist.

Alessio continues the patrol with Al Neri by the boat club and Michael’s yachts, leading the search over a raft by the lake. Lorenzo is the only one who remains in the center of the courtyard, just by the Corleone residence, taking a well-needed cigarette break.

Having not seen Michael for the past twenty minutes and still remembering Al Neri told you Lorenzo was looking for you, you’ve stepped out into the courtyard as well—reassured of no danger.

“Lorenzo!” You call out, approaching your brother from around your residence building.

Lorenzo turns his head to face you, surprise and disappointment sinking into his eyes at the late encounter. Lorenzo takes a small drag out of his cigarette, holding it between his fingers as he lets his arms fall to his sides.

You let out a soft sigh of relief as you stand face to face with your brother, who wastes no time wrapping his arms around you in a protective hug. “Victoria—where have you been?”

“What do you mean?” You peek your head up from his chest, hugging him back. “I’ve been with the children and Michael, just trying to sort this all out.”

“Did Michael tell you to?” Lorenzo keeps his cigarette away from your body, furrowing his brows.

“No?” You blink back in confusion.

You’re unable to say anything as else as Lorenzo sharply cuts in, nodding sternly at you. “Then don’t. This isn’t something for you to figure out. Leave it to him and his men to clean up this mess.”

“Has there ever been a mess?” You frown back at your brother, almost certain he’s not going to give you the answer you’ve eagerly been waiting for all night.

“No.” He shakes his head with a sigh. “No bodies, nothing. I can’t tell if they’re dead, sinking into the bottom of the lake, or made their way out. Either way, it doesn’t look good.”

“I know, I was—”

“No, you don’t know.” Lorenzo lowers his tone, almost scolding you in a sense. “You don’t know anything, Victoria. This is out of your area of expertise, and you shouldn’t have gotten caught up in it. Either those pieces of shit are still out here buying their time, trying to find some way to escape once they memorize the patrols’ movements, or worse—this is all an elaborate plan that got fucked up from the inside, and the assassins are walking among us. Either way, how the hell could I let my baby sister get involved?”

“You blame Rocco and his men?” You pull away from Lorenzo’s arms.

He turns his head to the side, taking another short hit from his cigarette before facing you again. “No, I blame Michael. Whether you were targeted or not too doesn’t concern me because I know damn well you wouldn’t have been if it wasn’t for Michael.”

“Lorenzo, you know this isn’t Michael’s fault.” You protest back, “do you honestly blame him? How could any of us—”

“How did anyone breach this—this fucking palace?” Lorenzo extends out his arms, scoffing loudly. “This goddamn compound makes the Godfather’s manor look like Verona’s dollhouse. He’s got men crawling in every inch of Lake Tahoe, and you still mean to excuse the fact not one but two people just casually found their way in and still weren’t noticed? They shot at you two, then our mother, and nobody noticed? Don’t you see how that doesn’t make any sense, Victoria?”

“Lorenzo—”

“No, listen to me.” Your brother shakes his head. “This whole dinner party was a farce too. A celebration of five years—five years of what? Peace? Prosperity? Happiness? Safety? That piece of shit promised me on the day of your engagement ceremony he would protect you with his life—” Lorenzo points a finger at your chest, “—keep you away from the idea of these very things. Why am I celebrating five years of his incompetence over shitty wine and chopped liver?”

“Lorenzo!” You exclaim, sharply raising your voice.

The attitude and absolute venom spitting through your brother’s voice normally would not surprise you had it not been directed specifically at Michael and Michael only. In a state of shock from how much he pours out to you in frustration and bitter hatred, you can scarcely believe the words coming out of his mouth, much less that he actually believes what he’s saying.

You scowl back at him. “Not only are you better than this, but you know better than this. That’s my husband you’re talking about; that’s the father of my children you’re talking about! What would father think if he heard this coming from you? Are you not aware of your father’s successor? One day, you can’t just come up to me mid-assassination and tell me your woes about Michael Corleone. You’re going to have to tell them to his face—”

“Then I will!” Lorenzo narrows his eyes.

“No, you won’t!” You hiss back at him, completely unaware Al Neri is listening to the entire conversation between you two. “You won’t because you’ll have gone and ruined everything father spent his entire life doing! Running molasses into Canada with the Godfather, helping him establish his olive oil business back in Sicily—they’ve been childhood friends, keeping this peace, avoiding mob wars, and strengthening our families! This personal relationship, this bond, and peace we have between each other is the only thing keeping us at each other’s throats because at the end of the day, mafia is mafia, and mafia demands blood—mafia wants power and money. It doesn’t share. It competes—it kills, and it flays alive. How much longer can you tolerate one another if the other family has more resources—more wealth and political protection than you?” You grab Lorenzo’s arm harshly, causing him to drop his shortened cigarette.

“You can’t, and you don’t, because the nature of our business—the nature of our family doesn’t allow it. Cosa nostra, Lorenzo. This is the most powerful our family has ever been, and we haven’t had to spill blood between the families in five years—not here, and not in New York. I thought you knew that was what we were celebrating tonight. That has no meaning to you? You’re so caught up in hating Michael—bickering with him—attempting to get a reaction out of him that you’re embarrassing the family! You’re no better than Santino, and there’s a clear reason why the Godfather refused him as heir. You’re not going to do this, Lorenzo.” You press your finger at the center of your brother’s chest. “Because I won’t let you. It won’t be Michael Corleone standing in your way to destroy father’s legacy because of your temper tantrums—it’ll be me.”

A painful silence fills the air between the two of you as both of you lock, bitter gazes of anger and defiance against each other. It doesn’t mark five years since Lorenzo and you had a disagreement of any nature or like this, but the first time ever.

You always had a close and warm relationship with all of your brothers equally, and you can’t remember the last time you fought or screamed at any one of them because you simply never did. They remained protective over you in a way you did over them in return. None of your brothers ridiculed or mocked you, hurt you, or doubted you.

It was Lorenzo who dropped you off on campus on your first day of law school. Lorenzo helped ease your nerves on your first day of court. Lorenzo taught you how to drive. Lorenzo bought you your first automobile the day you came home with your license. Your eldest brother supported you thick and thin through everything, as you did to him.

You supported your father’s decision to name Lorenzo his successor. Not only did you go to your father about the family business, but you held your brother to his honor and respected him, asking him next as if he was another Don. You selflessly offered to be your brother’s consigliere, or at least a personal lawyer if he saw a need to, but what you didn’t see or anticipate was his hatred towards your husband—Michael Corleone.

It feels as if the two of you stabbed each other in the front at the same time, Lorenzo’s eyes filling with disgust and disbelief. He slowly shakes his head at you—an immense disappointment sinking into his expression. “You’re just like them now, you know that? And this is what I feared. Losing my sister to the Corleone’s—having her forget whose daughter she is. Who she really is. Why do you even keep the Ferrari name, Victoria?”

The tips of your ears and the nape of your neck prickle hot as a wave of shock washed over you at his question. You purse open your lips to reply back, only to find yourself speechless.

“You’re a Corleone now, aren’t you? Michael Corleone’s lover, Michael Corleone’s lawyer. You took the idea of creating peace between the families for father so far, that what we have now isn’t peace between the families, but we’re stuck in your love triangle, and now the lines of loyalty to whom seem blurry to me. You could argue with me over a million things, but I’ll be damned if I say I expected to disagree with my baby sister about Michael fucking Corleone. What is all this, huh?”

Lorenzo’s words sting, and they hurt. It doesn’t occur to you to say anything back, not knowing how to counter the blatant disrespect to your face from the future Don Ferrari. It’s as if he spat in your face like you were his enemy, someone he looked down upon. In nothing but a brief second, Lorenzo downplayed and mocked at every moment you spent with Michael—everything you did with him and for him.

Your eyes harden to an emotionless, icy gaze that would cause Lorenzo to do a doubletake if he wasn’t so infuriated with you.

“AHHH!” A blood-curling scream cries out, causing the two of you to immediately turn your heads to where the sound is coming from—Fredo’s side of the residence.

'Deanna.' Without another word nor a glance to your brother, you turn on your heel, sprinting as fast as you can over to the sound of Deanna’s shrieking. “There’s blood on my window!!”

Seeing a couple of Michael’s men now begin to scour over Fredo’s residence like an army of ants, you notice Fredo and a security guard struggling to hold Deanna, who now wildly flings herself around.

“Deanna! Deanna, stop!” Fredo grunts, trying to catch his wife, who runs in circles around the trees.

Deanna continues hollering out for help as loose leaves cling onto her revealing, silk nightgown, threatening to slip down her shoulders. “Right—right there!”

“Deanna?! What’s going on?!” You approach her as Fredo shakes his head at you—humiliated at the sight of his wife throwing another scene in one night.

“Right out my window!” She howls back to you as Fredo and the guard grab onto both of her arms. “There’s bodies by the window! I wanna get the hell out of here!! They’re dead!”

You take a step back and grimace as Fredo hauls her back into the central residence, barely able to cling onto her as is. “GET ME OUT OF HERE!”

“Get her back inside!” Fredo calls out, and you notice him make eye contact with a figure behind you.

Spinning back, you see Lorenzo only a few feet away from you, startled by Deanna’s screams as well, but it’s not who Fredo is staring at. Turning your head to the side, your eyes widen to see Michael walking across the courtyard and over to Fredo’s residence.

When you look back, Fredo is nowhere to be found, and Lorenzo freezes into place—the nasty scowl on his face only continuing to sour at the sight of Michael. Peeking back at your husband, you find your heart beginning to race in your chest at the very sight of him, mixed with the adrenaline of Deanna crying out about bodies.

With two heavily armed bodyguards walking in front of Michael but to opposing sides and another two behind him in the same way, you notice Alessio, Leonardo and Matteo stand next to each other, a few feet of distance behind Michael—holding their firearms upward as they accompany him.

Michael’s approach is slow and lethal. He walks with one hand in his pocket, his head tilted down, and his eyes filled with vengeance and anticipation. It doesn’t take you long to figure out he’s going directly for Deanna’s bedroom window, where she proclaimed to have seen bodies and blood on her window, but not before coming right towards you.

Michael’s domineering presence remains persuasive, dangerous, intimidating like divinity in motion. His guards surrounding the area stand down, lowering their heads in allegiance and respect to the Don as he passes by them.

Niccolo and Verona peek out the window from the drawing-room, having slipped right under the curtains to take a look for themselves. Their eyes widen to see their father accompanied by their uncles—mobsters surrounding mobsters.

Niccolo watches in awe as his father makes his way by you, admiring his cool temper and determined spring in his step. “Daddy’s gonna get all the bad guys.” He whispers back to his sister, equally as surprised at the sight.

Feeling Lorenzo’s eyes burning onto yours as Michael ignores him outright, you make your way over to Michael just as he comes, joining his side much to confirm to your brother that everything he thinks of you is true.

Rocco and Al Neri join ahead with a dozen men shining their flashlights over as you all come to approach Fredo and Deanna’s bedroom window by the drains—picking up a steady pace while walking.

“Over here, there’s two of ‘em.” Rocco gestures as you all come to a stop by the sewer drains leading out to another part of the lake.

You blink to see two bodies floating in the muddy water, dressed in black suits, now drenched and still armed. As the flashlights shine over the corpses, you notice both of their thoughts are slit deeply from ear to ear, still bleeding red. It doesn’t look as if they’ve been killed that long ago, suspiciously enough.

“Looks like they were hired out of New York.” Rocco continues, making sure his men keeping shining light over the dead men. “I don’t recognize them. We won’t get anything out of them now.”

You notice Michael’s bitter expression only growing more irritated as Rocco continues to speak. He exchanges a look of annoyance with you before turning his head back to the corpses. “Fish them out.”

Two men hop in the water, first pulling the firearms off the body and tossing them aside over the dry grass before hauling up the soaked bodies. You remain still as your brothers, Tom, and Sonny take a look at their faces themselves, shaking their heads and remaining quiet.

“Hired out of New York,” Tom murmurs to himself, glancing up at Michael, who now glares at Rocco.

“And you say you just found them here?” He doesn’t even take another look at the corpses.

“Yes, sir. Fredo’s wife had been—”

Michael raises his hand to silence Rocco, refusing to hear any more. He lets out a stiff sigh, brushing him off with a gesture. “See if you can find any piece of identification over them—anything for the investigation.”

You glance back at Michael with concern growing in your eyes but notice a growing scowl in his expression as he stares back at the corpses. You remain quiet as your brothers begin talking amongst one another in hushed tones and examining the bodies up close.

Michael squeezes your hand, whispering in your ear, “see if your brothers notice anything. I want you back at the residence immediately after.”

You give Michael a quick nod back, watching Al Neri accompany him back towards the Corleone family residence without another word.

~

Entering the residence quietly, Michael pushes open Niccolo’s ajar bedroom door, seeing his son curled up next to his sister in two beds pushed together. Verona’s bedroom remained close to the study where your mother was shot at, and for the sake of security and safety, the nanny—Esther—had the twins spend the night in Niccolo’s bedroom further up the hallway.

Hearing it from the nanny himself as Michael had entered the residence, his eyes softened at the sight of his two children snuggled up between their blankets—only half asleep.

Assuming they’re fast asleep, Michael approaches the beds and pulls up Verona’s blanket over her before doing the same to Niccolo. Just as Michael tucks his son in, Niccolo stirs and slowly turns over on his back, waking his sister as well.

“Niccolo, Verona,” Michael whispers softly, sitting on the edge of his bed.

Verona lazily rubs her eyes, extending a small hand towards her father. Michael takes her hand into his, holding it as he gives a smile to his children, now safe and sound.

“Everything’s going to be alright.” Michael keeps his soft tone as he continues speaking with the twins. “Try to sleep, okay?” He runs a hand through Niccolo’s ruffled hair, caressing the side of Verona’s cheek next as she nods back at her father.

“Daddy…” Verona croaks quietly, her voice laced in sleep.

“It’s okay.” Michael leans in, planting a kiss over Verona’s cheek and forehead, then Niccolo’s before he pulls away. “Did you two like the dinner party?”

“We got lots of presents.” Niccolo peeps back quietly. “And food.”

“I know.” Michael runs a gentle hand through his son’s hair again, squeezing Verona’s hand lightly. “Did you like them?” He glances back at Verona.

“Yeah.” She smiles back sleepily. “I got lots of toys. But daddy, I didn’t know the people who gave them to us.”

“They were friends.” Michael nods, smoothening out their blankets. “Friends and family who love you two very much.”

“Daddy, did you get a present?” Niccolo whispers out.

Michael chuckles quietly. “Why would I need presents when I have you two?”

Verona shifts in her bed to get comfortable. “Because we can give you lots of presents too, daddy.”

Michael murmurs back to her—the smile on his face growing. “How about you two draw me a picture? It can be of anything you want. Can you do that?”

“Mhmm.” The two nod back at their father.

Michael gazes at both of his children before letting out a soft exhale. “Niccolo, Verona—I’m going to be leaving very early tomorrow, alright?”

“Can you take me with you?” Niccolo offers.

“Me too, daddy,” Verona adds.

“No, I can’t.” Michael shakes his head, holding both of the twins’ hands in his. “You both know I would if I could, but this is a little different.”

“Is mama coming with you?” Niccolo yawns, covering his mouth.

Michael rubs a thumb over his son’s hand. “Your mother’s going to be here with the two of you, and I promise I won’t stay long. It’s just going to be for a couple days.”

“Why do you have to go, daddy?” Verona asks. “Why can’t you stay with us?”

“I have to do business, sweetheart.” He answers her. “Just for a few days.”

“I could help you.” Niccolo lazily shrugs back at his father. “With the bad guys too.”

Michael gives out a soft laugh in response. “I know, and one day you will. Both of you will.” He raises the twins’ hands up to his mouth, giving them both a small kiss. “You can do something for me while I’m gone, Niccolo. Take care of your sister, alright? Take care of each other while I’m away.”

“And mama too?” Niccolo asks quietly. “Mama can take care of one hundred bad guys.”

“That she can.” Amusement twinkles in Michael’s eyes. “But everyone looks out for each other in the family, no matter what. It’s important. Bad guys or no bad guys. I want you both to try and get some sleep now, alright? It’s late.”

“Daddy.” Niccolo clutches his father’s hand. “I love you.”

“Me too, daddy.” Verona smiles, hugging her blankets. “I love you and mama.”

“I love you too, as does she.” Michael murmurs softly, kissing the twins’ forehead again as they begin to curl back up into their blankets.

Niccolo and Verona’s eyes flutter shut as their breathing relaxes, steadying as they try to drift off to sleep. Michael remains by their side, stroking both of their hair gently. Unable to get the image of bullets flying over his and your head, a wave of anger washes over him, only remedied by the sight of his children.

Vowing swift vengeance for himself and his family, Michael’s family buzzes with unanswered questions and growing suspicions. Two names cross his mind repeatedly as suspects he simply can’t ignore: Hyman Roth and Lorenzo Ferrari.

Before him, Michael sees the future of his family. He sees his two children, resembling both him and their mother. Niccolo may not know his father has noticed, but Michael’s aware of his soft imitation of his father, looking up to him as a role model, wanting to be just like him in the same way he notices his daughter’s intelligence and selflessness.

Traits Michael and you both know will aid the family business, let alone their own personal lives. Ensnared forever in his heart, Michael knows his wife and children remain to be his only weakness. Such a weakness that’s been tested tonight will be returned tenfold in pain, promised by Don Michael Corleone.

As you gaze upon the soiled corpses laid out before you without a clue as to who sent them, nor who they are, a shiver goes up your spine. Had you just remained a moment longer in bed, you’d have joined the body count, riddled with bullet holes and dead in an instant.

Once again, you’ve grazed your lips against that of death’s, but remained off of his doorstep. It’s been far longer than five years, but what about the past five years now?

'Five years.' Yet everything changed in an instant. The promises of safety, security, happiness, a fresh start from it all with the children, and expansion of the Corleone family business were only celebrated a mere few hours ago.

“Victoria?” Al Neri’s voice breaks your line of thought.

You remain crouched down, your eyes burning back at the lifeless ones of the corpses. You don’t answer Al for moments, indulging in your silence as crickets chirp around you, and you easily filter out the soft conversations your brothers have behind you.

The thought of someone only anticipating your deaths after the grand party doesn’t surprise you; rather, it intrigues you. Five years gone, five years waited. All of Michael’s enemies were wiped out one by one all that time ago—leaving only one struggling to maintain what remaining power and legitimacy he had.

'Five years too late.' You wonder if the same name has crossed Michael’s mind or even that of your brother’s. Of course, it would have. The question doesn’t lie at who did it, but rather who did this.

The blood trail left over the courtyard and outside your bedroom window is evident from the two gunshot wounds almost right next to each other on one of the men’s thighs. The cuts upon both men’s throats are almost down to the bone, completely slashed open. It looks as if one swift move sliced everything open instantly, but for someone to do the same to a second individual almost at the same time?

Your gaze flickers up to Al Neri, then Rocco’s, only carrying distrust and suspicion towards him.

“Get rid of the bodies.”

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

AND NUMBER TWO OF THE NONSENSE I’M WRITING TO COPE. 

[Ninjago season 15 finale spoilers] 

So, like I said earlier, I was a little salty about Kai’s lack of reaction to the whole Nya thing, so I wrote something where he did react, and now here’s something as an explanation for why he didn’t react in canon.  

HERE WE GO. 

-

She’s not going anywhere, the mantra in Kai’s head continued through the funeral and even after as they spoke to so many of the ones who had come to pay their respects to someone who was not truly lost. She’s not gone. None of us are ever gone. We always come back. They always come back. 

He clutched his bowl in his hands, now empty of the water he’d poured into the vase during the funeral. How many funerals had he attended? Zane’s. Cole hadn’t had one, neither had Pixal. So many near death experiences but they were never really gone. They were never gone. 

He bid the other goodnight, and made his way to his room, numb, numb, numb. 

She’s not gone. She’s not gone. We’ve had funeral’s before, they always come back. 

They always—

The bowl clattered to the floor. 

They always— 

He couldn’t breathe. 

They always— 

His baby sister. 

Hot tears began spilling over his cheeks. 

She isn’t coming back. 

His knees hit the ground and he choked on the sob that tore its way out of his chest. 

She was gone and she wasn’t coming back. 

He couldn’t stop shaking. 

He just had to be patient right? They always seemed like they were really gone before they turned back up again somehow. 

But not this time. In his heart, he knew it. Nya had looked at them like distant memories, not like her family. That wasn’t even his sister anymore. How could she come back if she wasn’t there anymore? She’d barely even looked at him. 

Burning in his chest, hot, angry, hurt, afraid, aching. 

Kai screamed. 

He punched the floor, sparks exploding from each hit, one after the other, the wooden floor cracking under his fists. Fire spread from his hands up his arms and over him. The boards caught fire, he ripped one up from the floor and threw it, he picked up the bowl that he’d used to commemorate his baby sister’s sacrifice, her death and hurled it against the wall. 

It shattered. 

He shattered. 

Nya sat on this floor and teased him. 

Nya climbed up on the dresser and kicked over his stuff to get his attention barely a month ago when he was ignoring her for something so stupid, they were so stupid. 

She’d helped him pick out an outfit for a date with Skylor by the closet, she climbed into his bed after a nightmare and he’d sung her to sleep, she was everywhere. There wasn’t a moment in Kai’s life, in his home, in his heart that she wasn’t there, and now she was gone, and every memory, the sad ones, the angry ones, even the happy ones that made him smile hardly a week ago hurt. 

He let it all catch fire. Every last one of them. Burning them away. Smoke filled the room, and he refused to choke on it, raging with the fire and flames around him. 

He fell to his knees. 

She has to come back. 

They always come back. 

He stilled. 

No. 

He was thinking about this all wrong. He’d gotten so used to this happening, to losing, that he stopped remembering how they came back. He didn’t wait around for them. He found them. 

I always get them back. 

Kai wiped his eyes and hauled himself to his feet. 

This wasn’t over. It was never over. Not while he was still breathing. 

He started towards the door just as the others started appearing. 

Pixal and Zane were the only ones not coughing, and Zane hurried inside, doing damage control and using his ice to beat back the flames that had started to grow with Kai’s anger.  

“Kai,” Pixal said, reaching for him. 

He walked past her, mind narrowing in on one thing.

He was getting his sister back. 

The flames seemed to follow him, and Zane called after him, but he pressed forward, out the door, past the worried looks from a tired Jay, and Cole until he was suddenly knocked off his feet by a green blur. 

He hit the ground, and Lloyd pinned him down. 

“Lloyd?! What—?” 

“I’m not letting you leave!” Lloyd’s voice was high and panicked as he yelled. “You can’t leave!” 

“I’m not leaving!” he yelled back. 

Lloyd stilled. 

They stared at each other. 

Then softer, swallowing back the rage burning at the back of his throat. “I’m not leaving.” 

Lloyd’s chest was heaving and he coughed, pressing hand over his face. He blinked down at him, eyes watering from the smoke, his voice small. “You’re not?” 

Kai’s heart lodged in his throat. “No.” 

His arms were shaking. “Promise?” 

“I promise.” 

Lloyd nodded, tears spilling over his cheeks, not at all from the smoke. 

He let Kai sit up wiping at his eyes and Kai pulled his little brother into a hug. 

“Not leaving,” he promised again. “I’m never going to leave again. You know I’m not.” 

“I panicked.” Lloyd managed. 

Kai gave a choked laugh. “It’s okay.” He hugged him tighter, pushing back his own tears and determination to hug him tighter. 

His little brother needed him first. 

Then he’d go get his sister. 

The others gathered around. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, because they deserved to hear it. They needed sleep after all this, and he was keeping them up with his tantrums. 

“It’s okay to be angry, Kai,” Cole told him quietly. 

His arms tightened around Lloyd. 

“I know.” 

And maybe everyone wanted to be alone, but after that no-one thought that was a good idea, so they all ended up piled into the same room on the floor like they always did after an especially rough mission, just to reassure each other that they were all alive and okay. 

Except this time one of them wasn’t. 

Still, none of them left. 

Never again, they had all promised. 

Kai stayed with them that night, but come morning… 

He was finding a way to get his sister back.

. 

If season 16 doesn't start with Kai running himself ragged to find a way to bring his sister back I’ma riot. 

PART 2 

[yanderenightmare]

HEADCANNONS

KINKS & FETISHES     part two

goodiebage WARNINGS: yandere, abuse, noncon/dubcon, arson, threats, Stockholm Syndrome, mind control, narcissism, sadism, slavery, torture

PART ONE 

YANDERE ! KATSUKI BAKUGO - KACHAN POWERPLAY

It’s been said before and it will continue to be preached until the end of time: Katsuki is a full-blown narcissist, and he loves making his dominance excruciatingly clear. He rarely uses any form of bondage, enjoying being the sole reason his darling stays in her place. Hand around her throat, squeezing that weak windpipe, forcing those precious sweet squeaks from her throat, feeling them simmer against his palm. Capturing her tiny delicate wrists between his fingers, squishing until bones pop and she swears in spluttering whines that he’s snapped and broken something. His knee digging into the doughy flesh of her thigh, causing sharp tickling pain to shoot straight through her flesh, all in an exaggerated effort at keeping her beneath him.

He’ll be degrading, especially in a suggestive way. His entire bone-crushing weight pressing down into her, constricting and controlling what air gets to pass down to her lungs, while he knowingly asks her how good it feels when she begins to clamp down around the girth of his cock, feeling her warm wet walls convulse and spasm each time he pumps his sopping swollen tip into the spongey feel of her cervix. Teasing, taunting and mocking words flying along with spit through his grit teeth onto her face, as the tab of his thumb rubs tight circles onto the bead of her clit. Anything resembling self-control can be written off as a cruel joke, when they both know her entire composure is at his mercy. Reduced to simply stimuli and response at his fingers, her reactions on his beck and call.

YANDERE ! DABI - TODOROKI TOUYA BEGGING KINK

He wants to see her kneel, he wants to see her crawl, he wants to hold that perfect little face between his palms and make her shiver and quake at the feel of his warming hands, threatening to mar her soft and supple skin up until it’s nothing but tough purple leather like him, with no hope of healing. He wants to see her cry, he wants it loud as though her sobs could shatter glass, he wants it ugly as though no one could look at her and call her beautiful except for him. He wants all of it as his studded cockhead pokes at her inside, all the while where he pounds into her ruthlessly and savagely, hearing her feeble broken pleas tremor beneath the palm he’s placed wrapped deadly around her throat, fingers bending and plunging into her delicate neck.

Then he wants to show mercy, he wants to glide his lanky boney fingers through her soft hair, hush and coo at her to quit her sniveling and shaking. He’ll have her on his chest, listening to her mumble out sweet forms of gratitude and other soft-tinted apologies. Her lips admiring his piercings, laying worship on them as though praying at an altar. Finding utter unlocking blissful satisfaction, as though some war has been won, at the fact that she’ll never be able to leave him, because he’s made the idea of leaving him seem like death in her brittle mind, not because he would hunt her down, but because she cannot hope to live without him.

YANDERE ! SHIGARAKI TOMURA FOOT FETISH

Just look at them. So dainty and petite compared to his, so small compared to anything, fitting so perfectly in his hand, soft skin in contrast to his dry toughened and calloused hands. And so very sensitive and ticklish, both beneath the touch of his fingers and teeth and tongue and cock. Pink wriggling toes, curling and crinkling until they cramp as he bottoms-out inside her, just begging for him to bite them while he fucks her harder, unable to go anywhere with her ankles shackled together, the chain pulled over his head and resting at his neck with her precious feet made to hang off his shoulders, only able to pull him closer.

Tomura learned quickly when playing with his darling that a woman’s feet are a woman’s weakness, because as she begs him not to touch her, begs him to stay away, once he wraps his hand around her ankle and drags her back to where he wants her, thigh-high sock slowly being pulled off to reveal her legs and coming off at her pedicured toes, foot enclosed in his strong hands, making her bones pop in a much needed message, she’ll moan in a way parallel with how lude she’ll croak with his fat cock drilling into her.

YANDERE ! SHINSO HITOSHI BONDAGE KINK

Who would not find it cute? A little pussycat all knotted up in a ball of yarn, with no hope of escaping, all trapped and vulnerable and begging for Master’s help. Her fingers dancing in the air, wrists tightly locked together, under full understanding that they’re completely useless under the circumstances, having no purpose except for stroking his cock in those moments he’s come close enough, yet not having the courage to sink her claws into the tender squishy flesh of his length because he has her other delicate bits on full display, all for him to destroy if she is to give him the right motivation, if she gives him an excuse to punish her.

He can play nice if she plays along, if she expresses her gratitude on cue like he’s taught her, if she asks for permission, if she begs enough. Either way, she’s not getting out of his trap. Either way, he’ll have his way, which is all that’s important to him. He knows she’ll enjoy herself whether she wants to or not, he’ll see to it up close and personally. Whispering small commands in her ear when she decides to be difficult, telling her to focus, telling her to forget everything except for him and those hands of his and that tongue of his and those teeth of his and that fat veiny cock of his, playing with her, forcing her to see stars.

YANDERE ! TAKAMI KEIGO - HAWKS MARKING KINK

It’s a need, it’s a necessity, it’s an instinct more than a desire. He’ll be rigid and manic and swivel-eyed, unable to feel at all at ease or at peace with her skin being unadorned and healed and ridden of his teeth-marks and claw-marks and love-bites. They belong on her just as much as that angel-coated set of wings on her back. His name belongs carved into her chest with the handy use of one of his crimson feathers just as much as that feather belongs in the flock on his own back. They need to be ever present on her body or else he’s risking her forgetting who it is that she belongs too.

She doesn’t really need clothes. Keigo likes her ready for the taking at all times. Expensive clothing articles just go to waste if they fall prey to him having to rip them to shreds when removing them unceremoniously from her body, especially when she’s so adamant on resisting him. Besides, if she’s all covered up in silks and whatnot, how is his need to see himself on her skin expected to be satiated? And, she looks so cute trying and struggling to cover herself up, with only her hands and feathers to use in hiding herself from Keigo’s prying eyes.

YANDERE ! MIDORIYA IZUKU - DEKU DADDY-KINK

Whether it’s sparked by his need to help and protect his little darling from harm and the dangers of the world, or because his own father abandoned him as a child, he does not give it too much thought, despite his darling often times asking for an explanation when he has her bent over his knee, sharp slaps printed on the dome of her ass while she’s made to beg Daddy for forgiveness, her otherwise perfect milky skin now bruised with ugly purple and blues, further indicating Izuku’s ownership of her. Come to think of it, maybe it’s because the title inspires authority, something of which he demands all responsibility of.

She’s his little girl, his little baby, his little Bunny, in desperate dangerous need of Daddy’s firm hand to teach her right from wrong, to teach her proper manners and proper posture and how to properly bounce up and down the length of his cock. Manners including begging Daddy to let her cum, whereas posture is learned and achieved through lesson after lesson where they train in keeping her ass arched up when her head is buried face-down in the pillow, with Daddy’s cock skewering her from behind, her little ass earning a bright-red slap each time her posture fails, her little ditzy brain unable to take simple directions with all the blood pooling in her brain.

YANDERE ! CHISAKI KAI - OVERHAUL LINGERIE KINK

She looks so perfect clad in expensive customized lace-roses and patterned mesh. Straps connecting her garner-belt to her thigh-high socks, all decorated with rosery swirls and diamonds and pearls, the golden clasps acting as a thing to admire and a puzzle to solve before he can slide her out of her underwear. Bralette granting minimum support as he wants to see her mounds in their natural perfection, the invisibility of the mesh-fabric leaving little to the imagination with her nipples on full display. Teddies too are such a delicate and exquisite playful attire for him to dress her up in. Intricate and ornate patterns adorning the fabrics both of silk and satin and velvet and cotton and lace, two small buttons positioned at her entrance for easy access.

Way too short skirts to even come close to fulfilling their purpose of hiding her privates. With their fluffy taffeta and tulle propping the skirt up into a wet-dream fairy-tutu costume. Kimonos too are such a sweet soft form of unwrapping a present. Tendrils of ribbon tying into big splendid flamboyant bows all for him to tug and make fall apart to open what glory found inside the packaging. Ruffles adorning the sleeves and every other edge in cutesy doll-like fashion. Colors of pastel pinks and creams in stark contrast to his black suit-pants when he makes her take a seat on his knee.

YANDERE ! TODOROKI SHOTO AFTERCARE KINK

It’s more than a duty, it’s a pleasure as well, something to look forward to, something to cherish. To have her broken bruised sweat-slicked radiant body, shivering from the cold or feverish and delirious from the heat, all fallen into a feeble mess of tired aching limbs, and her so very preciously dumb blissed-out state of mind, with words incoherently mumbled and blubbered and hiccupped out into the air with no true goal inside her fried little head. Her eyes heavy-lidded and pupils opium-wide, unable to focus on anything with the rapturous frenzied-high that has shaken her body ablaze and rendered her all but a febrile mess.

She’s so cute with all her humanity having been broken, leaving her as a wild cotton-eyed bleating little lamb as he places her in the hot-tub, careful to join her so she not drown in her absentminded euphoria. It takes time to come down from the fever, her body involuntarily fallen prey to spasms and convulsions wreaking through to her toes as they crinkle under the pressure, with her voice outing small whimpering sighs and moans. Shoto’s right hand ghosting over those fresh red and blue and purple galaxies adorning her body, cooling the swelling skin down, calming the blood gushing out from popped veins as he whispers sweet soft-spoken comforting nothings into her ear, cooing and hushing at her to let him kiss everything better.

[glassartpeasants]

The Test

Overhaul x F!Reader

Warnings: Angst, death, mega angst, pregnancy, premature birth, this hurt to write but thats okay

Gotta get the sad vibes out of thy body. Lets all be sad together

~~~

‘Okay, It’ll be okay. Just tell him! He’s your husband for christ sakes!’ You thought as you paced back and forth inside your room. You were afraid. You loved your husband you really did but sometimes he even made you afraid. 

Kai barely showed his emotions and when he did it was a miracle. Hell you barely just started getting intimate. You’ve only had intercourse 2 times you’ve guys been together. You’ve guys been together for 4 years. You understood his dislike of germs, and you never wanted to make him uncomfortable. So you just kept your wishes for intimacy to yourself. 

His kisses or hugs were almost just as rare as sex. You would tell him you loved him and he’d grunt back at you. You knew it was his language of saying i love you back but sometimes you just wished he’d say it back. You were only human after all. You wished for attention and some sort of love contact.

The last time you guys had sex he wore a condom. You didn’t mind really, it’s not like you were trying for a baby. But out of all the times that the condoms could have failed you,

This was the day of absolute fuckery.

You glared at the positive pregnancy test, hoping it would just disappear. But unfortunately problems like this don’t just disappear. So which leads to where you are now, a woman who is absolutely fucked if she can’t figure out a way to tell her husband she’s pregnant.

“Come on (y/n), you’ve got this. It can’t be that bad right?” You say trying to convince yourself. Kai was very difficult when he wanted to be. So what if he thinks you cheated on him?! You’d be killed on the spot! You wouldn’t be able to even explain, he probably won’t even let you. He had a habit of taking over you.

You sat on the bed as you rubbed your eyes. Trying to hide the tears that threatened to spill. You cried into your hands. This shouldn’t be so hard. He’s your husband. Then why were you so afraid? Was there a possibility that you could tell him without speaking? But how would you-

-the internet

You jumped from your spot on the bed and grabbed your personal computer and began looking at mom websites. Cool pregnancy ideas to tell your husband. You clicked on the link and saw the best ideas there. Get a mug and put the words you're pregnant at the inside of the bottom of the cup. Nah. Gift him baby clothes and let him put the puzzle pieces together. No thats stupid. Get a teddy bear and sew him holding a present, put the test in there and give it to him. Ah fuck it why not?

So from that search alone you RAN out the door and near the closest place where they had teddy bears and presents. You ran as fast as your legs could endure. Whipping your head from aisle to aisle. Looking for the fuzzy stuffy.

You go to the baby aisle and see the best teddy for the job. You quickly grab it as you go to the next aisle for the present. You had picked out a small box that would just fit the test. You smile as you jump up and down in joy. You didn’t know when you became so giddy. Not even an hour ago you were stressed to the point of wanting to hit your head against the door. You take a deep breath in before turning on your heels to pay.

~~~

1 Day Later

You looked at the teddy bear in your hands while sweating. What happened to confident (y/n) yesterday? Oh yeah she left when she had a fight with her husband, a bad one at that too. It was really bad. But you couldn’t stop now. You had to tell him. Better sooner than later. You take a deep breath as you hugged the teddy closer as you let out a sigh. Looking at Kai’s office door you let your hand let out a fragile knock. 

“Come in.” You slowly push the door open, looking in, you see Kai with two of his henchmen. Chronostasis and Nemoto. You didn’t talk to them much but you guys had pretty civil conversations.

“Kai I need to talk to you, without them here please?” You say as you try to stand your ground. You don’t really want your husband's friends to know what’s going on in your guys personal affairs.

“Fine. Chrono, Nemoto, leave.”

“Yes boss.” They leave the room just leaving you and your stonic husband.

“What do you even want?” He says in a voice that makes you question doing this but you go up to him and hand him the teddy bear. Your face beet red as you try to figure out his emotion. Especially when he opened the present.

“Is this a positive pregnancy test?” He says in an emotionless manner, but you couldn’t help but hear the bit of anger in his voice as well.

“Yes, I don’t know what you want to do or-”

“You cheated on me?” Wait what the fuck?

“What! How could you say that!” You say in offense. 

“I wear protection, woman! There's no way I could have gotten you pregnant!”

“Condoms aren’t even 100% effective! It could have busted or had a whole in it!” You yell back. You were offended. You were his wife, how dare he accuse you of such an act! Considering he was so interested in medical things you would think that he would know that condoms aren’t 1005 effective!

“You slut! I give you everything and you go out and cheat on me!”

“I didn’t fucking cheat asshole! God after years of being with you, your immediate reaction was I’m cheating?! Why am I with you if you don’t even trust me!”

“Leave this house! We’re over!” 

“Are you fucking serious?! You won’t even consider it!” You scream at him.

“Leave or else!” His ember eyes looking at you with the intent to kill. You knew that if you wanted to live you had to leave. Tears rush down your eyes as you turn around quickly before swinging open the door. You turn around to him one last time before screaming at the top of your lungs

“I can’t believe I married a cold hearted monster like you! I hope you die alone!” And with those words, you left. Never stepping foot inside that base as long as you lived.

~~~

5 Months Later

“This sucks actually ass.” You growl as you walk around your apartment. It wasn’t the best but it would do for the time being. You got it cause your friend was friends with the owner. All you had to do was take care of the garden they had outside. They wanted to make it eye catching so more people would move in. 

Understandable.

You held your stomach as the urge to pee came over you. Due to the fact a literal baby is growing inside you, it's pushing against your bladder. Kinda rude. You're carrying this baby and it's just gonna do you like this? That’s some bullshit man.

You groan as you continue to sweep your hardwood floor in your small living area. It was much better than living with Kai I guess. You never wanted to see his stupid gorgeous face again.

You look up at the area around you, admiring your work on cleaning the entire apartment. You smirk to yourself before feeling a kick in your stomach. You hold your stomach as you take a breather. Looking back up you notice a familiar golden shine coming from a little dish you kept by the door where you put coins in. 

Walking towards it you notice that its your old wedding ring from you old marriage. You guys never really got divorced so it was still official by law. Annoying yes but you didn’t want to even be in a room with that bastard.

Grabbing the ring you look at it and think how much it would be worth. A final fuck you to the mind that shattered you heart. 

Grabbing it and putting on a coat you start walking out the door and head out the door. Going to a pawn shop around the corner. You would be able to get a little extra cash for the baby.

~~~

“Yes sir I would like to sell this ring.” You place the ring on the counter and slide it over to the employee. His eyes widen as he motions you to come closer.

“This is a yakuza style ring. A Shie Hasssakai kind of ring. Where did you get this?” The man said. He sounded like he was worried. 

“Oh my shit husband gave me this when he proposed to me. Then kicked me out saying I cheated when I told him I was pregnant. Like sorry that a condom is not 100% effective.” You say soundly. The man looks at you with wide eyes. You didn’t really care at the moment because the feeling of lightheadedness was weighing you down. 

“Ma’am are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Before you could say anything you felt a wet feeling coming from in between your legs. Looking down you see that your water broke.

“MA’AM SHOULD WE CALL 119?!” You shook your head up and down before falling down on the ground, the world seems to be growing black around you.

~~~

Ring ring ring

“Hello?”

“Yes Overhaul sir? This is the guys from the pawn store downtown, we have a ring that seemingly belongs to your ex wife.”

“And you're calling me why?”

“Uh...because she was just carried away in an ambulance. She didn’t look very well, boss. My girlfriend had her kid recently and she wasn’t near as sickly looking as she was.” Overhaul couldn’t help but have his chest tighten up a bit. His heart was beating faster and he could feel it. 

“Do you want to know the hospital she’s at Overhaul?”

“Not right now.” Before Kai could even think about what he was doing he hung up the phone and moved his wrist back to the papers. You cheated on him, you’ll be fine. He rolled his eyes but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel the sinking feeling in his stomach. 

Like if he had just made a mistake he would live to regret.

~~~

Kai ran as fast as he could towards the hospital where you stayed. They had sent him a call asking him to come down so he could see his kid. When he said that it wasn’t his, they told him that the DNA matched up perfectly with his. 

Kai felt a painful sting in his chest as he got closer and closer to the hospital. He was thinking on all the ways to apologize to you. And if his pride would allow him to apologize. 

His head rang with the words of what the doctor told him,

***

“Is this Kai Chisaki?”

“Yes it is, why?”

“Well we have you as an emergency contact for miss (y/n) (l/n).”

“Take me off.”

“Excuse me sir?”

“I said take me off.”

“Well I can’t take you off when we called you to tell you that your wife is in critical condition.”

“What?!” Kai tried to not show much worry but he couldn’t help it. No matter how much he told himself that he didn’t love you, thoughts of your smile rushed back into his head. Your laugh. Your everything calmed him down. You were his angel. 

“Unfortunately her water broke early, leaving her to have an early birth and her body was not able to handle it. Your daughter, who we did a dna test on is in the ICU (intensive care unit). Her being born 2 months early is having complications breathing.” Kai couldn’t say a world before he rushed out of the door and into your hospital,

***

He burst through the hospital doors and walked up to the nurse as he panted from running. A look of desperation in his golden eyes.

“Where is my wife and daughter? Mrs. Chisaki?” He said in a moment of panic. He hated the look that the nurse gave him as she told him where to find your room. Before he could run into your room a doctor stopped him by grabbing his shoulder.

“I’m sorry to inform you sir but, the complications your daughter had to breath were to severe. We couldn’t save her. I’m deeply sorry.” Kai looked at the doctor. Not wanting to believe a word he had just said. He felt his hands tremble as he grabbed the doctors shoulders. Tears streaming down his face,

“What about (y/n)? Is she okay at least?!” Desperation in his voice. He can’t lose you. He already lost his daughter that he refused to believe was his, now to late to say hello or I love you. He had to see you. Just to hear you sweet voice at least one more time-

“I’m sorry Chisaki. She was pronounced dead 5 minutes before you came in.” No, no. He refused to believe it. He ran to your room, praying you were still here. You needed to be here. He needed to say he was sorry. That he loved you.

once he burst through your room door his worse fears were confirmed, and what the doctor was true. You no longer a heartbeat monitor. Your chest never moved to show some sort of breathing pattern. Kai ran to you holding your face in his hands. He put your forehead to his as his tears landed on your lashes.

“Please...wake up. I’m begging you. I already lost our daughter, I can’t afford to lose you to. Please my angel. Come back.....” Kai grabbed your limp body and pulled you close to his chest, shaking as he started sobbing uncontrollably. His whole world seemed to stop as he felt his only sort of light in his life be blown out. He cried into your neck as he collapsed onto his knees.

“Please, I don’t wanna be alone.”

[mageofseven]

I've been reading your stuff lately and I love them.

May I request like the bros' reaction when their kid told MC that they hate her and when the bro asked why they hate her the kid be like she gonna leave them too when they grow up... since mc is a human and stuff.. :/

Okay, I think you're talking about death here? If not, sorry, but if so, this is so sad 😣 It makes sense though. Once they learn about death, they might not fully understand it. That combined with hearing that human life spans are so short, maybe the kids would be afraid that it means their mommy is going to willingly leave them some day?

~

Lucifer:

Immediately angry with his daughter.

Grabs Ksenia by the arm and makes her face him.

"Tell your mother you are sorry."

"B-But she's going to leave me..."

Loosens his grip on her arm, frowning.

Realizes that the girl is just scared of losing her mother.

In all honesty...he is too.

"That doesn't mean you can say such things..." He says more gently. "Now please tell her that you are sorry."

He struggles with the same fear, but buries it deep within himself so he can enjoy the present with his Love and their daughter. Really hopes his daughter can do the same.

Mammon:

"Woah, woah, woah! Where the hell did that come from??"

"I hate her! She's gonna leave me!" Little Cassia starts bawling her eyes out.

Oh shit...

"Okay, none of that, none of that!" The second brother got down on his knees and pulled his daughter in close. "Your mama ain't going anywhere soon, ya hear? She's stayin' right with us, ya got it?"

"Y-You promise?"

"Ya bet. Think I'd lie to you?" He asked, feeling a bit guilty.

I mean yeah, his daughter is actually right...someday MC will be gone and that's that. Still, this girl is way too young to think about that.

Leviathan:

"Y-You can't say that!"

This man has no clue how to handle this--like at all.

Luckily, MC does.

The woman leans down and hugs her crying son close.

"I-I'm sorry. Please don't leave me, Mommy."

"Shh." MC cajoled. "It's okay. Mommy's gonna be here for a long time and no matter what, you're always gonna have Daddy, okay."

That jolted Levi from his freezed panic. He fell down to his knees and joined the hug, arms wrapped around both MC and Kai.

"Yeah. I'm always gonna be here, okay?"

God, thinking about a future where his Henry is not here...the demon doesn't even want to. He doesn't wanna face it. But some day he's gonna have to and he can't just shut himself away in his room when that day comes because Kai is gonna need him.

But will he be strong enough to be there for his son when that day comes?

Satan:

Steps in between MC and Amelie as the girl screams. She may be a child, but she still has the strength of a demon and Satan didn't want his Kitten to get hurt from their daughter's tantrum.

"I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!" The small child screamed, jumped, and cried. Each jumped cracked the floorboards under her feet more.

Puts in a lot of effort to remain calm. Matching anger with more anger solves nothing and the Avatar of Wrath recognized this.

"Amelie, that is enough." Satan said sternly, not yelling, but also making sure his daughter could hear him above her own sobs.

The little girl collapsed onto the ground and started kicking her hands and feet against the floor, breaking off bits of wood.

"I--don't--wan--na--lose-Mama!" Amelie screamed and cried with each heavy breath.

"S-Satan..." MC started tearing up at their daughter's words.

Satan took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"It'll be fine." He told her before letting go and leaning down to pick up Amelie.

The child kicked and cried till her father brought her in for hug and then she simply clung to him.

"Shh. Amelie, it's alright." The demon said softly. "Mama's right here with us. She's not leaving anytime soon."

"You promise?"

"I promise." MC chimed in, wrapping her arms around her daughter and kissing her head over and over.

MC's mortality...that's something her boyfriend wishes to fix. He's not quite sure how, but surely it's possible; Solomon proves just as much. Regardless of whether it is or isn't though, the demon did not want his daughter to fear that day or to give it any thought at all. This truth is something he wishes for only himself to bear, not Amelie or MC.

Asmodeus:

"Oh LiLi!" Azzy lightly scolded before pulling his son into his lap. "Don't say such mean things to Mommy."

"I-I'm sorry..." Liam burying his face in his dad's shirt and sniffled.

"Now what's wrong, baby? Talk to us." MC cajoled as she stroked her son's hair.

"I don't want you to die someday, Mommy..."

His parents' eyes widen.

"LiLi...that's not anything you need to worry about, sweetie." Asmo kissed his head.

"But isn't Mommy gonna leave someday?"

"Not for a very long time, baby," MC rubbed his back. "And I promise I'll be here with you always till that day."

Oh devil. Now Asmo is gonna be worrying about her eventual death for awhile. Later, his Dolly will have to switch to comforting him, but for now, they both need to focus on their son.

Beelzebub:

"Arsi..." The younger sister hugged her twin's arm.

Their parents just stared in shock at first. Why would Arsenia say she hates MC?

Beel frowned.

"Arsi, what's wrong?"

The girls both started crying and their parents immediately scooped them up, Arsi in Beel's arms and Anais in MC's. The two gently rocked their girls as they cried.

"Okay, what's going on girls?" The woman kissed her youngest's forehead.

Anais simply hid her face in the crook of her mama's neck

The demon pulled his oldest back a little to look her the eyes.

"Arsi, Baby Bean. Talk to Papa here."

The girl sniffled.

"We...we heard you and Mama talking about her dying some day."

"We don't want you to leave, Mama." Anais tighten her hug.

The couple fell silent. The two indeed talked about that earlier. They were talking about how happy and complete life felt...but then MC's mind wandered too far into the future and she voiced how worried she was about him and the girls when she dies. Though they don't know for sure, they've been told that their girls' lifespan will be closer to that of a full demon's, meaning that...MC's involvement in their lives will be such a small bit of time in comparison.

It was a heavy topic, one that they needed to discuss, but not one for their daughters' ears.

"Okay. Listen closely to Mama and Papa, okay, Baby Beans?"

Beel watched as the girls sniffled but nodded.

"We're sorry you heard that. Mama's gonna be here for a long time though, okay?"

"Yeah, Mama's right here." MC agreed, kissing both Anais and Arsenia's heads.

The ending will most definitely be bleak...but the present is a happy one. All of them need to focus on the now and not the far future, especially the girls.

Belphegor:

"Lilith, shut up!" Judas yelled at his sister.

It was too late though. Their mama's heart shattered and their dad was mad.

Belphie strode over to the kids and Judas stood in front of his sister.

"Dad, she didn't mean it--"

The sloth demon snaked his arms around his son and grabbed his daughter, picking her up before tossing her on couch, landing with a gentle bounce. The kids had been thrown on the couch by their dad and Unlce Beel plenty of times during playtime, but this time was different because their dad wasn't playing.

"You don't say stuff like that to your mom." He told his daughter. "Now what's your issue?"

The little girl crossed her arms with a 'hmph'!

Belphie huffed and looked to his son.

"Any clue why she said that?"

"Belphie, it's fine--"

"No, it's not fine, Butthead." He told MC. "They can't growing up thinking they can just talk to you like that."

He looked back to his son.

"Now, why'd she say it?"

The boy looked at his shoes.

"I can't tell you..."

"And why not?"

"'Cause it'll hurt you..."

Lilith's defiant expression fell into a worried pout.

The sloth demon raised an eyebrow.

"Tell me."

MC scooped up her son.

"Belphie, I said it's fine. Enough."

"Mommy, I'm sorry she made you sad." Judas mumbled into her neck.

"It's okay, baby." MC rubbed his back.

Belphie let out a long sigh before feeling his shirt be tugged on.

He looked down and saw Lilith staring up at him with tears in her eyes.

"We heard you tell Mommy that you're scared of the day she dies again...we asked Uncle Mammon what that meant and he said dying is when someone goes away and never comes back."

That dumbass. At least he didn't tell them anything about the first time...

Belphie plopped down on the couch next to his daughter and pulled her close.

"I-I don't want Mommy to go away." The little girl started crying harder. Judas started tearing up too.

Damn, the demon didn't know what to say. This...was a hard subject for him. Luckily, MC spoke up.

"I'm right here." She brought herself and Judas over to the couch and sat down. "I'm here now with you guys. You shouldn't just look forward like that when I'm right here...loving you three. And I'll always love you three."

"MC--"

"The future is a long ways out. Let's just enjoy today." She met her boyfriend's eyes as she said this.

It was obviously that it was just as much of a pep talk for the demon as it was their kids. Honestly, it wasn't really able to wipe away all of his worries but...it served as a wake up call to focus on the twins.

"You heard her." He pulled back and looked to both of his kids. "She's here now and that's what matters."

The sloth demon was pretty distant from his family for the rest of the night, mind stuck in that conversation. If only he could do as MC said and just live in the present. But he can't. He's so stuck in the past that he's honestly scared of the future.

[demetriandelibinaryboyfriends]

"Remember when you told me that Demetri was always going to be your only friend?"

Her tone was sharp and Eli felt obliged to avoid her gaze, staring at his hands instead.

"I do."

"Yeah well, Demetri's mother called me to tell that someone broke his arm and she doesn't know who did it."

His silence was almost as loud as a scream.

"I know who did it. I didn't know the reason though, but then I saw those Cobra Kai kids with you outside and I put it together. You have a bunch of new friends now, don't you?"

Eli glanced at his mother and regretted it instantly, she almost looked as if she was talking to a stranger. Like she didn't knew him.

"Well, Demetri isn't your only friend now, is he?"

No.

"Was it worth it?"

No.

God, no.

Hey wow look never in my life have 142 words CRUSHED MY SOUL FASTER

This drabble punched me in the gut, grabbed my wallet, looked through it, snatched all my $20s, and then ran away mercilessly.

Legit though, it never sat quite right with me when Eli was venting to his mom in that one flashback and he just wails out “I’M NEVER GONNA HAVE ANY FRIENDS BESIDES DEMETRI!” like it’s some like...goddamn death sentence or something. Like yeah, Demetri is far from the perfect best/only friend, and he can certainly be an insensitive ass at times, but like...yo, the boy is LOYAL AF, he’s stuck with your ass and been your best friend through YEARS of bullying and tried to protect you from getting hurt, in his own little way (even if some of his efforts are kinda misguided, as they basically boil down to “just avoid engaging bullies if at all possible” and “don’t try any new activity (i.e. karate) that could cause even slight pain or discomfort and rock the boat” lol) and tried to make you laugh with dumb jokes about you being the homecoming king when NO ONE ELSE would bother, and you clearly just DON’T appreciate him??? Like the way Eli’s like “I’m never gonna have friends...besides Demetri, obviously” just reads like he’s absolutely just taking Demetri for granted and it PISSES ME OFF. Then again, I think it might just strike a nerve with me in particular, since I remember all too well being a ragingly insecure, introverted child watching my friends make other friends besides me and just being so confused and hurt, like “...am I not good enough for you?” Of course, now that I’m older I see that it’s valid to want more friends while keeping the ones you have, obviously, and I don’t think Eli was inherently wrong for wanting to expand his social circle or anything, but the way he’s just...so dismissive of Demetri’s friendship and instead focuses on crying about all the cool friends he doesn’t have just PEEVES me to no end. Like ffs, some of the kids at that school who get bullied probably have NO friends and have to tough it out alone, so maybe be like...a little more appreciative of the fact that you have a BEST FRIEND who clearly cares about you??? Again, it’s valid for Eli to want more friends--I imagine you’d get tired of only having one person your age to really talk to--but the fact that he kinda phrases this in a way that makes it sound like Demetri and their friendship is dismissable and trivial and not all that important to him has always bugged me a lot. I mean, Eli obviously DOES care about Demetri and Demetri’s opinions of him, as we see several times in the show, but like...hearing him say “I’m never gonna have any other friends besides Demetri” still makes me wince every time. STOP TALKIN BOUT MY BOY LIKE HE DOESN’T MATTER 

Yeah yeah yeah I KNOW I’m reading way too much into a simple comment okay but this statement has implications and I DO NOT like them

“Someone broke his arm and she doesn't know who did it." Oh yeah, Demetri absolutely did not tell his mom Eli broke his arm. Given how smothering and overprotective she seems (I mean, she gave him a note to take to a KARATE CLASS excusing him from EXTENSIVE ARM AND LEG MOVEMENT even though that’s ALL KARATE IS), she’d probably NEVER let Eli near him again if she knew--hell, she might even get a restraining order or make Demetri transfer schools or something. And Demetri definitely doesn’t think that’s her decision to make--and he ain’t about to give up on Good Old Eli just yet, even after everything that’s happened. Perhaps against his better judgement, he still has hope for his old friend. He just tells his mom his arm got broken by one of the newer Cobra Kai recruits, some burly thug guy he’d never seen before. He didn’t get a good look at the guy, naturally, since he was pinning his face to the ground and fled the scene almost immediately after the arm-snapping.

And oh my god how I WISH we’d gotten a scene in Season 3 where Eli’s mom just brutally calls him out like this, because god knows he needed it and it could’ve been THE wake-up call (or at least one of a few big wake-up calls) that shit...he’s getting farther away from the person he’s always been than he ever has before, and maybe...maybe it’s not a good thing after all. Maybe it’s not a good thing if his own mother barely recognizes him, if his own mother is maybe even a little scared/wary of him and what he’s become. I mean I get there was a lot going on in Season 3, and there probably wouldn’t have really been room to bring back a character as minor as Eli’s mom, but I would have loved to see her reaction to all the shit he was pulling throughout the season. She highkey seems like a helicopter parent if she’s willing to call the school over Eli being bullied, so there’s no way she was just suddenly completely disinterested in everything he was doing after school and that she didn’t at least suspect there was some sketchy shit going on. (I mean...the boy presumably came home with a MOTORCYCLE one day??? Isn’t she gonna wonder where on earth he got that??? Y’all don’t expect me to believe SHE got it for him, do you???)

Also, Demetri and Eli’s moms are absolutely friends!!! Speaking as someone who had the same group of childhood friends for like 12 years, your moms can’t NOT be friends when they’re forced to see each other that often XD It’s kinda depressing to think how much it must have hurt their moms too when they started fighting, since these women would presumably have been good friends for years at that point and now have to watch their sons, who used to be best friends, just constantly be at each other’s throats :( I love how quickly Eli’s mom puts two and two together and figures out Eli broke Demetri’s arm. Eli can’t hide SHIT from his mama haha

Also wow it’s so fucked and depressing to think that maybe, in the heat of the moment, Eli broke Demetri’s arm to LITERALLY shatter the notion of Demetri being his only friend and try to DESTROY that time completely with that arm break so he could fully embrace his new, “improved” identity as the “cool badass” with lots of awesome and formidable friends who were obviously far superior and much better for his image and his intimidation factor than nerdy little Demetri...ouch.

"Was it worth it?"

No.

God, no.

JESUS I’M SOBBING

AS SOON AS ELI HEARD THAT BONE SNAP AND SAW DEMETRI CURLED UP ON THE FLOOR CRYING HE REGRETTED ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING I AM HERE TO TELL YOU

IT WAS A BAD DAY FOR EVERYONE AND I AM GOING TO MURDER JOHN KREESE WITH MY BARE HANDS FOR SLOWLY MINDFUCKING MY BOY ELI MOSKOWITZ INTO THINKING BREAKING HIS CRUSH’S ARM WAS THE MOVE

[quarantineddreamer]

If the World Was Ending 

I reached 500 followers today!!! 🤯 To celebrate here’s a one-shot I recently wrote inspired by the song If the World Was Ending by JP Saxe and Julia Michaels. It’s a Zutara song if I ever heard one -I simply could not get the idea out of my head to write a little something on it. Hope you enjoy, thank you so much for being here💙 (and if you’re not here for the Zutara, let me know what content you’re looking for and maybe I can rustle something up ✨).

P.S. There should also be another chapter of Element of Change posted this weekend!!! --- Best wishes, B 

The sun was rising over the Fire Nation capital, its light gradually gracing slanted rooftops, empty streets, and the face of the newly crowned Fire Lord.

Zuko breathed in the cool air of a new day and exhaled the stress of yet another night of meetings and paperwork. He set his hands on the stone of the balcony railing and surveyed the tranquil scene, still not quite able to believe it.

“How are you feeling, Fire Lord Zuko?” a voice called teasingly from behind him.

Just as the dawn warmed the land before him, so too, did the sound stir a similar reaction in his chest. As Katara came to stand beside him he turned to greet her with a weary smile. “I’m surprised to see you up,” he commented, well aware of her nocturnal propensities.  

She shrugged in reply. “Lots to do before we leave tomorrow. Including,” she bumped her shoulder against his playfully, “checking in on my patient. How are you feeling?”

“I’m exhausted,” he admitted, “but that has nothing to do with my injury.”

Katara frowned. “You should really be taking it easy. Getting lots of rest.”

“I can’t. Not yet. There’s too much to be done. Too many things that need to be set right.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that... Will you still have time to come to our farewell gathering later today?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for anything,” Zuko promised. He gestured to the room behind them. “Uncle has already set his tsungi horn inside and picked out the finest tea to serve.”

Her eyes crinkled in amusement as she laughed. “It’ll be nice to have some time, just us, to say good-bye…”

He knew what she meant, but he silently corrected her in his head anyways: not just us… The others would be there too. It wasn’t that Zuko didn’t want to see them, but it was dawning on him that this might be his last real moment alone with Katara before she returned to the Southern Water Tribe. And who knows when I’ll see her again… His weariness dissolved rapidly, the heaviness in his body replaced by apprehension that ran up and down his spine and tied knots in his stomach.

“Hellooooo, Zuko?” Katara waved a hand in front of his face and his attention returned to the present --though his heart still sank at the thought that tomorrow she would be waving at him for a different reason.

I thought I had more time… “I just --I can’t believe you leave tomorrow…”

The same melancholy that crept into his tone found its way to her words too as she said, “I can’t either…”

They stood in a heavy silence, listening to the faint echoes of a city coming to life below them, attempting to savor a bit of the peace they had fought so hard for. Zuko found it was more difficult than it had been a few moments ago. The weight of her impending departure was impossible to deny and the once dreamy picture of the city before him now seemed incomplete.

“I should get going…” Katara murmured, her eyes tracing the path of a bird in flight overhead.

‘No, you shouldn’t. Please don’t.’ Zuko wanted to say. His heart seemed to chant with each beat: Now or never, now or never, now or never…

He reached for her hand, then stared at it for a moment in surprise, unused to the impulsiveness he suddenly found guiding him --but what else was there to do when it felt there was no time left to waste? She was going to sail away... He couldn’t let her go without her knowing.

Katara carefully intertwined her fingers with his own. Her gaze lingered there before she lifted her head. There was longing in her expression and pain too. “Zuko…”

“Wait,” he said in a strained voice. “Just wait… Don’t. Don’t say it.” Because it felt like she had been about to say good-bye and he didn’t want that. He wanted… he wanted…

He wanted to kiss her, had wanted to for a while, but the moment had never seemed right, he had always let the inclination pass. They had just ended a war. He had nearly died. Then he had become Fire Lord, and there were so many duties for them both to attend to, and now… Now she was standing right in front of him as she had so many times before, and might not again for he didn’t know how long, and he wanted, more than anything, to kiss her.  

Zuko leaned closer till his nose touched hers, till her exhales became his inhales, and he could smell the warmth of her skin, see the flutter of her eyelashes as she hesitated before finally shutting her eyes and sinking into his touch.

She tasted salty and sweet all at once and her lips were soft, but insistent as they pressed against his own. He wrapped his arms around her and gathered her closer, closer, till he could feel her heart hammering in time with his own, till it felt like they shared one body, one ridiculously happy soul.

Her hands rose to his chest and tangled in the silk of his crimson robes for one desperate moment, before she pulled away, breathless and… shaking her head.

“Katara, what’s wrong?” Zuko cupped her cheek in his hand. His palm grew damp from her tears.

When she looked up he could see them streaming down her face turned gold by the morning light. “Zuko, we can’t do this. I know you know that.”

He did know. He had thought about it all before, everytime the urge to act on his feelings had risen he had resisted only because he was aware of the consequences of them. Of all the impossible things Zuko had done: finding the Avatar, facing his father, ending a war, the path that lay before him seemed the most insurmountable, because yes, she was right, but he didn’t want her to be…

The politics of it would be complicated -- several of his advisors would take issue with the Fire Lord being romantically connected to a Southern Water Tribe ambassador. No matter that he couldn’t care less what they thought, it would still get in the way of the work that needed to be done. They would accuse him of being partial when negotiating, of clouded judgement. Time would be wasted arguing the dynamics of his relationship instead of focusing on the way forward to a better world.

She spoke again, as though reading his mind. “My people need me and so do yours…”

One specific person came to mind, who Zuko knew relied on and loved her very much. “Aang… He’s forgiven me for a lot, but… I don’t think he’d forgive me for this.” Zuko looked down at where her fingertips stuck loosely to his own, not yet ready to separate. He lamented the loss of what was right in front of him.

“We just weren’t-” Katara’s voice broke and she inhaled shakily before continuing. “We weren’t meant for each other.” Her face told a story that contradicted her words. Her face said she felt the same as he did --that they were connected in ways that were indescribable, as deep and powerful as the love between moon and sun.

Still, she pulled her hand away from his and stepped backwards and Zuko felt a piece of himself fall away with her...

Later that day the sky would be pink and purple where it had been blue and gold. He would turn away from the friends gathered to seek fresh air, and he would see her standing where they had stood that morning, receiving a kiss from the Avatar --the sun setting behind them.

***

There were letters exchanged over the next few years, but writing them felt like playing a part in a play. It was make-believe, a well-practiced lie.

Zuko found that the white spaces on a page were blinding. For every word he wrote there were infinitely more he wanted to add -- shattered, wish, missing, love…

He thought he might develop a tolerance for the pain of exchanging such mundane and careful sentences with her, instead, he eventually figured out it was simpler to say nothing at all than to bear the burden of holding back what went unspoken.

It was easier then, when the communication at last died out, to let her go…

***

It was sometime in his third year as Fire Lord that an assassin nearly succeeded in ending his reign.

The poison raced through his veins like lava, setting his skin on fire from the inside out, pulling at his muscles like strings of a puppet, but it was not the physical agony that tortured him the most.

It was the closest he had come to death since the Agni Kai and he had not spoken to Katara in nearly a year. The last time the world had been ending she had been by his side, facing it with him…

All the reasons not to be together, all the fear… They were irrelevant when paired with the regret he had for everything that could have been. He was dying --and what did it matter now what might have gone wrong, when in the final hour the only mistake that mattered was that they had said good-bye.

***

Zuko opened his eyes to blue.

He was certain that the spirit world had chosen the color most calming to him to help ease his transition into the afterlife.

Then the blur began to draw into focus…

He sat up so fast the room spun and her form became distorted again.

“Hey, take it easy… How are you feeling, Fire Lord Zuko?” Katara’s face had lost some of the roundness of youth, but her voice remained the same and Zuko marveled at the wonder of hearing it again after so many years.

He gave her cheek a gentle stroke to ensure it was not a dream. She smiled at the touch and his heart hiccuped at the sight. “I’m so happy to see you,” he breathed.

“Your uncle said you gave him quite the scare…”

“Uncle?… You mean you didn’t know?”

She shook her head. “No, I just got here. I didn’t realize you had been sick…”

“I assumed someone sent for a healer --the Fire Lord deserves the best, right?”

Katara rolled her eyes at his teasing, but when she spoke again her voice was serious, “That’s not why I came here.”

“Then why?”

She shut her eyes, took a deep breath and slowly released it. When she opened them again her hand had reached for his. “I almost died... I was traveling with Aang and Toph and one day I decided to go for supplies while they made camp. I was surprised by some bandits. Not a big deal for a waterbender normally --except the only scratch they managed to land on me came from a poisoned arrow. By the time I realized what was happening it was almost too late… I got lucky.”

“It was the same for me…”

“Right,” she nodded, glancing at the damp rag on his bedside table --a remnant from the battle he had fought against the poison’s fever.

“So, you came here for help? We need to track down the bandits? Do they have Aang and Toph?!” The questions tumbled one after the other until Zuko had worked himself into such a state of concern he was preparing to leave the bed right that moment and gather all the resources at his disposal to assist.

“Zuko, no, no, it’s not that. Aang and Toph are fine.” She steadied him with a hand to his shoulder.

“Katara… I don’t…” He searched her eyes for answers, but the years had not erased the pain of the day on the balcony. “Why are you here?”

“Zuko… The world was about to end, I was going to die, and…” The words tumbled out. “And the only thing I thought of was that morning before I left. I thought I had figured out how to think about you --living your life- without it ripping my heart out, but I thought of you and I thought of dying without seeing you again and it hurt more than anything. We were wrong, we…”

He didn’t let her finish the sentence. He leaned back and pulled her on top of him, held her tightly and kissed her for all the times he hadn’t in the years since their good-bye --like the world was ending, and nothing else mattered.

[lumau]

Chapters: 3/7 Fandom: The Invisible Library - Genevieve Cogman Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: Irene (The Invisible Library), Kai (The Invisible Library), Peregrine Vale, catherine (the invisible library), Lord Silver (The Invisible Library), Li Ming (Invisible Library), Ao Shun (Invisible Library) Additional Tags: ilcharacterweek, Angst, Some Humor, Some Romance, all a bit trippy, but it'll make sense, potentially additional tags per chapter, minor spoilers for the dark archive and all other books Summary: 7 chapters, each focussing on one of the main / favorite characters (written for 2021 Invisible Library Character Appreciation Week)

Chapter 3 - Vale

additional safety notes for this chapter: contains reference to death / suicidal thoughts

 ╳

Vale’s cane tapped on the dark, polished floor as he strode briskly down the corridor.

This, he could feel it. This was it.

His usual instinct that helped him to meet the right people at the right time had never failed him, and he would trust it also in this case. While his whole system was on full alert, there was the smallest twitch in the corner of his lips. He quietly muttered to himself, as he briefly bent down to check the floor, before continuing onwards with even more determination.

“If my record were closed tonight I could still survey it with equanimity. Today I crown my career by the capture or extinction of the most dangerous and capable criminal in Europe.”

He cast a quick glance over his shoulder, but, as expected, the hall was empty. Very well. He had sent Strongrock to meet up with Winters, which should distract both of them sufficiently. This was one matter he had to face alone.

In front of him the corridor ended and opened into a vast space. Not only the ceiling lay hidden in complete darkness, but also the other sides of the wide room. It was impossible to make out how far the room stretched in any direction.

Vale stopped in his tracks and stood completely still, listening intently. He could not hear any noise by another living thing, but found that he could make out a vague rushing sound, like water running down a stream in the far distance. And still, he knew that he was not alone.

Ahead of him a narrow bridge stretched out over the darkness that lay below. There was only one way onwards.

Vale was perfectly calm when he pulled a notebook and pen from his pocket. He set down his cane, leaning it against the wall of the corridor, and in his usual firm and clear manner, he wrote out a few lines, before cleanly ripping the sheet from the book and sticking it behind the cane’s handle.

 My dear Winters, my dear Strongrock! I write these few lines through the courtesy of my adversary, who awaits my convenience for the final discussion of those questions which lie between us. I am pleased to think that I shall be able to free society from any further effects of his presence, though I fear that it is at a cost which will give pain to my friends, and especially to you.

However, my career had in any case reached its crisis, and no possible conclusion to it could be more congenial to me than this. I made every disposition of my property before leaving London, and handed it to my sister Columbine. Pray give my greetings to Inspector Singh, and believe me to be, my dear fellows,

Very sincerely yours, Vale

With one deep breath and not a moment's hesitation, Vale turned to face towards the narrow plank across the unfathomable chasm. As he began to walk, he could make out a shadow opposite him, the dark figure of a man, walking towards him at the same, steady pace. 

Vale felt his heart pounding fast in his chest, but no sign of the thrill of anticipation passed through to the outside. There was the familiar weight of his revolver against the side of his leg. Without his cane it did give him something to focus on, a target for his senses, to keep them alert and focussed. He knew that if he only slipped for a second, it would be a lost game. Only fools underestimated their enemies, and while Vale was prepared to die, he would not do so without taking his with him.

The light was so low that he could still not make out more than the outlines of the man opposite him. The bridge was so narrow that neither of them would be able to evade the other. 

"It is a dangerous habit to finger loaded firearms in the pocket of one's coat."

Vale startled for a second, as the voice rang out ahead of him, loud and clear, an echo in the vast chamber. He drew to a halt, the figure opposite mirroring his step. Vale smiled, and pulled out his revolver. 

"You evidently don't know me," snarled the voice.

“On the contrary," Vale answered in a light tone, that gave none of his tension away. "I think it is fairly evident that I do. Pray, spare me the chatter. If you have anything to say, then do it now."

"All that I have to say has already crossed your mind."

“Then possibly my answer has crossed yours," Vale replied.

“You stand fast?”

“Absolutely."

The silence was cut by the faintest rustle of fabric, and with one swift motion, Vale raised his pistol, just as the other moved in the same manner, and pulled the trigger.

The shot was an explosion in the vast, empty room. Within the same moment Vale knew that something had gone wrong, even while the sudden, blinding light made it impossible for him to see. Then the fragments of broken glass came hurling towards him and he understood.

It was an instinctual move to dodge the bullet that had ricocheted from the mirror that sent his foot over the edge of the bridge. His weight tipped with nothing to grasp for, and he fell.

╳

“Strongrock?”

Vale stepped into the room, carefully avoiding the shattered glass and fragments of what looked like it had once been a chair that were strewn all across the floor. The figure kneeling crouched over in the middle of it all had nothing of the poise and energy he knew his friend to hold in almost any situation, but it was clearly him. With a critical glance around Vale quickly took in the scene. Just a moment ago he had woken slouched in a dark corridor without any recollection of how he got there. But as he followed the faint noises around the corner and was faced with this scenery, all his senses immediately sprang to high alert. He itched to investigate the rubble and this odd place. Yet, the dragon’s state seemed the most pressing issue for now.

“My dear fellow, are you alright?”

He went down on one knee next to him and touched a hand to his shaking shoulder. Kai flinched and looked up at him. His face was streaked with tears and ashen. Tiny cuts stood out dark against his deadly pale skin. Kai stared at him in shock with the expression of someone who had just seen a ghost, or believed he had. Vale frowned, clearly something had shaked his friend to the bones, and he knew this was not easily done.

“Vale? You… are you real?” His voice was hoarse and small, and Vale could hear the desperation in it. It met some part inside his chest with a stinging pain.

Vale swallowed down a lump in his throat, and gave the dragon’s arm a sympathetic squeeze. 

“Quite, for all I can account for, I am very real.”

“I thought I had lost you,” Kai slumped forwards in a shudder of sobbs, clasping onto Vale’s arm.

Vale was taken aback by the outburst, wondering what might have inspired it. He put his hand on Kai’s heaving back. This was a moment where Winters would say something sympathetic and yet constructive, witty but kind. He on the other hand was rather out of his depth, and while he had faced many distraught clients and victims, they weren’t generally his friends as well.

It took him a moment to regain his composure. As Kai sat up, he looked more miserable than Vale had ever seen him, but his eyes had regained some of their sharpness now. He focussed on Vale, and there was something in his look that he had not seen there before.

“Vale, please forgive me. I don’t even know what I can say to express how sorry I am.”

“I can’t see what you should apologize for and what has upset you that much. Won’t you explain to me?” Vale asked softly.

Kai took a deep breath to steady himself and told Vale what had happened. His face drew into a pained expression as he told him of his struggle to free them, and his desparation as he simply couldn’t do anything. He averted his eyes, clearly fighting to find the words.

“I just had to do something. It was not as if I would not have tried to help you and Catherine as well. Please, Vale, you must believe me,” he pleaded.

Vale paused, thinking rapidly. This was all very curious. “You might have fallen victim to some sort of wicked illusion. Surely you must see that this is so, as I am right here, unharmed?” 

Kai swallowed, then shook his head decisively. “But that is not the point,” his voice rose to an urgent tone that Vale had rarely heard from him, at least not directed at himself, “I betrayed you. How can you be so dismissive about this?”

Vale took a moment to consider. 

“My dear Strongrock, had I been there, I would have implored you to save Winters. And it would have been the sensible thing, too, as her abilities might have enabled further action," he said calmly. "I would have expected nothing less of you. There is nothing to forgive.”

Kai stared at him, aghast, and Vale could see a whole array of emotions pass over his face. He was so obvious, still, and it was one of the things that made him such a fine person.

“Why do you have to be so utterly noble?” Kai grunted, but the strained expression on his face had softened somewhat. In a spontaneous gesture, Vale held his hand out for him. Kai took it, and then leaned forward to pull him into an embrace. 

Vale was startled, but forced himself to not just hang in his arms boardlike. That was usually not an appropriate reaction. Instead he settled on returning the embrace, and for a moment, he thought he shared the others relief and allowed himself to relax a bit.

And then, the screams started outside.

╳

(with abbreviated quotes from The Adventure of the Final Problem by Arthur Conan Doyle)

[cno-inbminor]

adsentio - stagnation

a/n: we’re back with prince!akaashi, royalty!au, extra part. i promise i was writing the wedding scene, but then it started storming pretty heavily...and my brain said, “no, Kay. it’s rainy hours. write angst. you know you want to.” and...this happened.

NOTE: for this specific scenario, it’s not 100% necessary to read ‘adsentio’, the main story. however, there are details that reference it and subsequent parts. the basic idea is: you and prince akaashi had been set up to marry since you were children, and while the both of you were against it for a while, feelings changed for the better.

summary: after a few years of being married, you find yourself firmly concluding that indeed, akaashi no longer loves you.  

genre: angst!! with happy ending though. wc: ~2.9k

main story: adsentio (pt. 1) | bonus letters (pt. 1.5) | the masque (pt. 2)

Whenever torrents of rain cascade over the kingdom, down the vine-ridden castle walls and pattering upon the lake, many will pause in their tasks and gaze out the nearest windowpane. Thunder may rumble and lightning may strike, yet everyone registers the same twist in their stomachs. An unease lies beneath their skin; a chill that wickedly summons horripilation. In an effort to battle the shadows, fires begin to roar, one by one through the castle. Aches and pains arise in bodies as the masses wait with bated breath for the rainbow to appear as it always does.

Smoke floats through the chimneys and taints the air, evident by the wisps of gray and onyx. Yet they are unnoticed and in stealth on this dreary night where everyone must succumb to the understanding that there will be no rainbow. The controller of the tides will peak above the midnight clouds and attempt to shine, but never strong enough to guide the nightly travelers.

Even with the tamed inferno in the chambers, a puff of visible air leaves your lips. Your hands clasp tightly together, your fingers intertwining with each other in your lap as you sit in front of your vanity. Raindrops beat against the glass of the balcony doors, glistening in their trail towards the ground. Yet as soon as they fall onto stone, the drop shatters and colors the surface. It paints and paints until the blemishes appear and the imperfections glare towards the skies.

Jewels sit heavy on your figure, your crown resting on a cushion atop your vanity. But in this moment, nothing weighs more than the wedding ring on your left hand. It’s crushing, suffocating; it burns a print and imprisons your appendage, reminding you of unspoken promises ghosted against your ear. The gems hold decades of memories, being passed down from queen to future queen, and you wonder if any of them proceeded with what you plan on doing.

Akaashi had entered the room as smooth as a serpent, silent like a zephyr. Your only warning of his presence is the raised hairs on the back of your neck, your body tensing just as his hands placed themselves on your shoulders from behind. Another breath is drawn from your lungs as he peers into the mirror at you, the faintest expression of happiness drawn from his lips. But it’s lifeless. It’s the one he reserves for meetings and pleasantries, for when he disagrees with his father but has no choice to comply. His eyes are darkened with death and dissatisfaction, and has been for almost two weeks now.

His brows only marginally furrow with concern at your lack of reaction, how you seem to be looking past him. Your own expression comes off as solemn yet nervous, as if you’ve committed a grave sin.

“Is anything wrong, my dear?” He asks gently, watching carefully.

Your lips purse as you turn your head towards the hand on your right shoulder. They no longer provide the warmth and comfort that they did so many years ago, but only serve to freeze your soul and weave together the insecurities that you had painstakingly unraveled. Akaashi continues to gaze at you in silence as you stand from your seat, wordlessly beckoning for him to take your place. With guarded hesitation, he does as you say. Instead of standing behind him as he did you, you instead take the space on his right, facing his side profile. Feeling unnerved, he turns to face you rather than his own reflection.

In times of vulnerability, you have always struggled to find your footing, to feel that you are powerful. You believe there is a strength in possessing self-awareness and having the ability to convey those thoughts to someone who cares and knows. Just because you feel small in the moment does not mean you must be small. You can tower over the other person as you do now, forcing your prince to lift his chin to speak to you.

“You are unhappy,” you whisper ruefully.

“I don’t…I don’t understand,” he fibs, his eyes wavering as he directs his gaze away from yours. In that brief moment of eye contact, you had seen the show end, but the curtains lifted, the gears turning and unveiling his chaotic despair.

“You cannot lie to me, milord. And only you are incapable of doing so with me.”

He lets out an arduous sigh and slouches his back, a pose of defeat and exhaustion. A dagger twists his heart at the title, but his reticence allows you to continue.

“I can only imagine that there have been many women in my position before, where they must continue to rule with locked lips and the key thrown. There must have been many who were as hopeful as me, and yet as time aged us, we had to turn the other way and simply learn to accustom ourselves to the new surroundings. With how long we have known each other, I know almost everything about you. To most, you may only have a few sitting postures. But to me, you have tens. Each little movement indicates something different, something you happen to be thinking or feeling at that moment. It’s ingrained into my brain by sheer force and repetition, and I’m beginning to wish I was more oblivious. Perhaps, then, I would at least have been a happy fool, content with my misguided beliefs.”

“What are you trying to say?” He enquires as he dares to face you again. With regret, loss, and grief, he watches as your eyes begin to shine with tears and the most bittersweet smile on your face begin to form.

“You no longer love me.

“And I have no objection to that,” you continue, raising a hand to stop any of his interjections. “I should have known that you would eventually tire and wish for what I had voiced all those years ago: some freedom, some choice. As much as you had convinced yourself that marrying me was unequivocally your free will, you no longer believe it. All of your interactions with me scream so, and I have no intentions to attempt to convince you otherwise. Doing so would be hypocritical of me. So for now,” you pause, looking down at your hands while catching your breath.

Akaashi can hear the tremble of your lungs over the crack of thunder and the beating of the heavens. But everything deafens when your right hand hovers over your left ring finger. They hesitate and shake, reaching then reclining, before grasping the ornate band and slowly, lamentably removing it. You then extend a hand to gently grasp one of his, placing the piece of jewelry in his open palm, then curling his fingers closed around it.

“For now, I shall return this to you. You may do as you wish, as I will not stop you. Perhaps…we were not lucky enough for love.”

You sleep with your back to him that night, unwilling to face him when only mere inches exist between you two. You miss how Akaashi turns to face your back, how his arm tentatively reaches to wrap around your waist before pulling back, and can only slip into his dreams when counting the strands of your hair.

-

“The Prince urgently requests that you meet him in the library, Your Highness.”

“Now?”

“Preferably, yes.”

“Very well, I shall be there shortly,” you sigh, your turning away signaling the messenger’s dismissal. Your head bends down to take one last look at the embroidery in your lap, your fingers finishing some last few stitches for an appropriate stopping point. Fingers cautiously smooth the wrinkles of your day dress, and you take one last deep breath.

The journey to the library is painstakingly laborious, as though each step you made had been done with shackles around your ankles. There is a weight to the sound of your heels clicking against the ground. Maids and butlers shuffle past you with heads bowed, though you seem to deep in a trance to observe.

Much of the energy and power that you felt you had exuded those nights ago had soon dissipated from your body. Your body resembles an empty shell, devoid of a plan to stand on your feet and continue with your normal activities. Your left ring finger screams into the numbing void, the missing weight almost bearing its own scarlet letter. You stayed in your room as much as possible, requesting meals to be delivered to the chambers. Akaashi nearly always needed to be away, taking care of kingdom affairs in preparation for his inevitable ascension to the throne. The only times you were ever near him were in the mornings and nights. You understood he was allowing some space for you, yet to request your presence…

Soon, you stand in the doorway of the royal library, the wooden entrance left ajar. The space acts as a safe haven for anyone in the castle; you gently press it open with the pad of your fingers. Hundreds of books on shelves line the walls with a few tables and lounging couches, yet it is eerily empty. Typically, there would be another person climbing one of the ladders to reach a high book, but even those are gathering dust for now.

Akaashi is in the farthest corner by the window, small stacks of bound journals and novels on almost every available space of the surface. He stands tall by the glass, looking out towards the gardens with his hands clasped behind his back. You take this moment of his oblivion to appreciate the back of the man before you, choking back and battling the agonizing twist of your heart. It is a moment you feel that you no longer deserve, but whatever it may be, the matter seems far less urgent than what the butler had told you.

You near him and clear your throat, the noise causing him to spin on his heels. He looks somewhat taken aback, but quickly composes himself as you curtsy. “I am here, Your Highness. I was told you had urgent matters to discuss.”

Akaashi sighs somewhat before sitting in the chair, beckoning you to come closer to the desk. His complexion seems pale and almost gaunt, and in turn, you frown. Was he not sleeping? Or eating? Has his father been putting too much pressure on his shoulders?

“I must confess,” he begins softly and refuses to meet your eyes. “The matter isn’t as urgent as I made it out to be. But I wanted to see you as soon as possible as it is still important and does concern you.”

“Did I…do something wrong?”

“Of course not,” he immediately denies, taking a hasty glance towards you before turning back to the books on the desk. “If anything…I am the one who has wronged you, and I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me,” he continues, his voice trailing towards the end of his confession. The desperation for forgiveness and repentance drown his words until they are all you can feel, yet you were so unsure of why he was seeking those. Did he pity you? Your emotions?

“I believe there is no reason to forgive you, as there is nothing you should feel sorry for,” you say stiffly, hands subtly wringing together.

“I must concur,” he kindly retorts. “Here, please have a look at this.”

He hands you a journal from the top of a stack, encouraging for you to take it. The leather feels aged and worn, but it is one you recognize from many, many years ago.

‘You could consider it a memoir.’

“Open it, please. And read what’s inside it.”

With a curious look, you unwind the ties and peel back the cover. The first page holds nothing, but when you turn the yellowing parchment, familiar handwriting greets you. A date sits in the top right corner, marking it a little less than a year before your eighteenth birthday.

‘I must say, I was pleasantly surprised to receive a letter from the princess. In my mind, she would have better things to attend to than to reply to me. After all, we both have our own duties, and in addition to hers, she must be attending some of her father’s meetings. I cannot deny the fact that my heart began to race swiftly when I saw her signature at the bottom of the letter. Even in her writing, I could hear her voice in my head, reading it the same way as if she were speaking to me. How I long for the summer months to quickly come.’

The beginning entry ends there, but as you thumb through the other pages rapidly, they are filled with his writing in neat, onyx ink. You begin to recall the days when you both were here in this very room, him scribbling away as you read your subject of interest. Your eye the other similar-looking journals and he confirms your unspoken questions.

“They’re all about you,” he smiles, though it seems sad and apologetic. “As you can see, I filled quite a few journals over the many years, but…unfortunately, as I grew busier, I was unable to write as much. When you said those words to me that night,” – a grimace on his complexion – “I couldn’t believe myself. Did I truly not love you anymore? At first, I struggled to find an answer…until a few days ago. I have spent much of my time reading through these pages, seeing what I have written.”

“You read…all of these? There must be almost twenty journals here,” you say in a mixture of disbelief and awe.

“I couldn’t quite put them down, I must admit. Some of my best work, perhaps.”

He stands from his seat and walks around the desk until he’s in front of you. Those pools of cobalt blue still find it difficult to meet your own eyes – they swim with contemplation and hesitation, but a sheet of determination soon clouds them. After you recognize that, he grasps your left hand with both of his and kneels on one knee, his forehead bowed down onto your knuckles either out of embarrassment or absolute respect.

“Keiji, what are you—”

“I was wrong. I had been so wrapped up in my own affairs that I failed to look after you as I had promised at the altar. I neglected you and unwittingly led you to believe that I no longer loved you. You do not deserve such a foolish man, so ignorant to forget how good you are to me, how there can be no other woman because you are my perfect match. I have been reminded of all the reasons of why I love you, and I swear on my existence that I love you more than I ever have.

Yet the truth is, I shouldn’t need to be reminded. You should never need to question my loyalty to you, and for that…I can only give my deepest apologies,” his voice trails to a volume so soft, yet so shaky with remorse. “The regret that I feel can’t even begin to hold a light to the pain that you must have kept bottled inside you, where you kept the cork in for as long as possible as to not burden me. I have failed you, and I will spend the rest of our days correcting my wrongs. In this very moment,” he pauses, inhaling a deep but quivering breath.

“I desperately and humbly request of you to give me this one last chance, to prove that I can be the man you deserve. I am begging you, my future queen, to forgive me.”

Your breath hitches with the last statement.

A prince never begs.

Yet he was here to lay it all out for you, imploring that you stand by his side, again, in more ways than one.  

“Please rise, Your Highness,” you call out softly, your hand reaching out to try lifting his chin and meet his gaze.

He stubbornly shakes his head. “Not unless you give me your answer.”

“Keiji, you don’t need—”

“Your answer. Please,” he beseeches with the last word, breath held. You know that when Akaashi becomes insistent, he never backs down yet somehow still allowing the other person to have a choice in the say. No thinking needed to be done, as your answer should be quite obvious.

“How could I ever refuse you, Keiji?” You tease softly with a smile.

Since the first moment he had kneeled before you, he looks up to see your face. Unshed tears glisten from the sun’s rays streaming through the glass. Your words are more than enough for him to stand on both feet again, soon wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his head into your shoulder. These acts of affection are only a small portion of what you had sorely missed, and you were counting on Akaashi to fulfill his vow.

“You are everything to me,” he breathes unsteadily into your neck. “And I will make certain that you never forget this, even after we pass.”

“I can trust you?”

“Yes. I promise.”

[lo-55]

Shattered Chains of Fate Ch. 4

Loss.jpeg

Night has fallen on Chaldeas. Though the globe still casts its red glow across the room, the doom of humanity, it’s too late and Ichigo has been awake for too long for the grief to wash across him like so many waves right now.

He’s summoned another servant today, with the help of technology and Saint Quartz and Cu Chulainn, of course. It was maybe  his fault that he now had two celtic servants. One a caster with vicious loyalty but a habit of hitting on girls, and another that avoided women like the plague and followed Ichigo like the most desperate of puppies.

So now he has four servants to keep up with, and so he’s  tired .

They go off to the next singularity soon. Somewhere in England, in the late nineteenth century. He should really be resting. Getting ready for the next fight. Letting Olga Marie try an fail to teach him even the simple but powerful magecraft that she and Cu specialize in.

Instead, Ichigo finds himself standing in the doorway to the Chaldeas observation room, looking not at the ominous depiction of their future, but the man standing in front of it.

Romani Archiman. Dr. Roman. His shoulders are tense and drawn and his hair is out of its usual pony tail. He looks as tired out as Ichigo feels. When no one’s watching, right now, his green eyes are dull and his humor has faded. When had he last slept? When had any of them?

Mash kept reminding him how important it was to get proper sleep, and maybe it was easier for demi-servants than it is for humans. He doesn’t know. He never thought to ask.

Ichigo comes to a stop beside him.

It is a testament to his exhaustion that Roman doesn’t even notice Ichigo enough to react until he’s been standing there for nearly a full minute. When he does he jumps, startling and in the space between breaths Roman’s demeanor shifts. His eyes crinkle with a smile and he turns to Ichigo, a dozen times more cheerful than he’d been mere seconds before. It’s a startling contrast. From one face to another in less time than it took Ichigo to even realize he’d seen him looking so serious.

Roman was not a serious man. He had a tendency to jump around and get overly excited over seemingly nothing at all. Like cake, and slacking off and a blog he’s obsessed with that is, somehow, still posting online even though the world outside is nothing more than ash and fading memory. Ichigo personally suspects that it’s a prank put together by Da Vinci.

That artist is something of nuisance.

“Ichigo!” Roman’s smile is hard to spot as a fake, when Ichigo doesn’t know to look for it. Now that it is, it’s still hard but he can see the slant to his eyes, the tiny purse of his mouth. Ichigo is no genius, but he likes to think Roman is his friend. And so he does his best to learn to read him.

“Did you need something?” Roman asks, peering curiously at him. Something under Ichigo’s skin hums and crawls. The hiding sets his teeth on edge. Maybe it's because Ichigo himself is such a straight forward person, but he doesn’t much chair for people who hide like this.

And maybe it’s hypocritical, but at the moment he, frankly, doesn’t give a shit.

“You need to sleep,” Ichigo says, his jaw set in a stubborn line.

“Oh! Ah, I just have a little more work to do here before I can do that. See, Sonya wasn’t feeling well earlier and-”

“Roman,” Ichigo grabs his elbow and watches the man jump, like he’s been shocked. He acts like no one’s ever laid a hand on him before in his life.  “Go to sleep. We’re not going to a singularity tomorrow. You can afford rest.”

Still, Roman’s smile turns, tilts, like he’s confused, and this close Ichigo realizes that he’s thrumming with anxiety.

  No wonder he can’t sleep.  

Ichigo is not a genius. And he’s not the best at offering comfort, especially not at times like this. This is a time when they have to step up, when there is no other choice for them than to stand together, and he can’t say he’s entirely sympathetic with the doctor.

But he pulls him, by the elbow, not giving him time to argue as he manhandles him towards the hallway that leads to the dorm rooms. Most of them are empty now, their occupants frozen in cryogenic coffins. Anyone who isn't working is frozen, in fact. All of the staff that had died during the initial explosion had been dragged out, sometimes in pieces, and laid in the snow and ice outside the facility. It would preserve them for the time being. And with Ichigo around, so too were the ghosts.

It had started with Marie, but by now most of the dead staff have started to drink in his reitsu, to supplement themselves. If they take enough, they can even interact with the world around them, though it leaves Ichigo exhausted if too many do it at once. It’s like vampires, but they're eating his soul instead of drinking his blood. And in any case, it keeps the chains in the chest from eating their way up.

Marie had explained, very vaguely because her family specialized in astronomy not ghosts, that if those chains vanished entirely they would have less ghosts and more ghouls. Which was bad.

They pass twelve of them on the way to their destination.

“Ichigo, please,” Roman tries to tug his arm out of Ichigo’s hand, but out of the two of them it’s no contest who the stronger one is. “I have work-”

“You’re no good if you work yourself to death!” Ichigo snaps. He closes the door behind them with a tap to the pad on the wall and tosses Roman bodily onto the bed.

Roman scrambles to sit, blinking at their surroundings in confusion.

It’s almost the same as the last time they’d been there, during their first meeting ever. The only difference is that there’s a pair of jeans in the corner and a picture of his sisters and his mom on the desk under the window now.

“This is…”

“My room,” Ichigo finishes for him. He runs his fingers through his hair, his customary scowl in place. This was probably stupid but-

“You said you come here to relax, right? To goof off and slack on your duties. Well, relax. Marie’s still around so it’s not like you’re the acting director anymore.”

Roman gapes at him like a fish.

“But- But-”

“Shut up,” Ichigo orders tersely. He’s already second guessing his initial reaction but he wasn’t gonna leave Roman there to stare at their doom and he doesn’t have the damn poetry of words to convince him that they’ll rise above their challenges. “And go to sleep. Chaldea will be here in the morning, and so will the past.”

Roman slowly gathered his limbs together underneath him. He looks at Ichigo, confusion written across his face and it’s all Ichigo can do not to snap at him. Roman is a doctor and grown ass man. He should know better than to neglect himself.

To be fair, Goat Face is also and doctor and grown ass man, and Ichigo doesn’t trust him to so much as feed himself.

“O-kay,” Roman says at last, drawing the words out and his face finally softens, with fondness and truth. Some of the lie slips away. “Okay. But what about you, Ichigo? You need to sleep too. You’re supporting multiple servants and multiple ghosts, now.”

Ichigo hadn’t even thought about that.

He shrugs, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I dunno. I can just sleep in a chair or something.”

“No!” Roman shakes his head. “No, that’s not acceptable. As your doctor I have to advise against it.”

“ ‘as your doctor’? What the hell kinda crap are you going on about?” Ichigo scowls deeper.

“You need to sleep, in a real bed. Honestly. We can just share.”

“Excuse me?”

“Like a sleep over in a movie!”  

“... You were homeschooled, weren’t you?”

“Eh?!”

“Fine, whatever,” Ichigo was too tired to deal with this. In the morning he’ll kick himself, and maybe Roman, but for now all he can think of is turning the lights off and getting some sleep, at last.

And if it’s easier to sleep when the living are next to him and not when he’s haunted only by figurative ghosts instead of literal ones, no one will even be the wiser.

*

It’s not so much a house as it is a room where he can simply exist.

It’s small, single story and a basement that still smells faintly like lightning and copper and a strange magecraft. One that he can’t quite place, one that he’s never encountered before.

Ichigo doesn’t ask about the old owners and Waver Velvet, who gets pissed every time Ichigo doesn’t call him something stupid like Lord Elmeloi the fifth or whatever, hadn’t volunteered any information.

Ichigo spends a few minutes looking around. There’s a fold out couch in the living room and the kitchen is stocked with none perishables and frozen meats. The bedroom has runes carved above the door and the window, offering Ichigo a modicum of protection from what might be out there. There’s a bed big enough for his whole family and then some, and the closet has a few changes of clothes. Three suits, of all things, and a familiar mystic code.

White and black, it’s a body suit he’d been given early on. His Chaldea combat uniform.

The material feels like silk but Ichigo knows better than to think it is. It’s tough enough to hold up to arrows and fire and more than he wants to think of. He’d only taken blunt force trauma when he’d worn it. There were three spells woven into the fabric, and Ichigo wonders what it will be like to wear it again before he dismisses the idea.

Ichigo wonders just what Waver had thought Ichigo was going to be doing here, that he needed this.

He goes to the basement.

It’s bigger than he would have expected, and there are weapons lined on the walls. Spears, swords, and bows, and a range setup with dummies stuffed with straw.

There are no windows, to hide him from curious eyes. Any non-mags who finds out about magic is sentenced to death, and that is part of why Ichigo hasn’t told his family about his escapades. His wars.

Kon walks past him at the foot of the stairs. Along another wall is a shelf built into the stone foundations, filled with texts and materials that Ichigo can recognize instantly.

He’d never been good at spell work on his own, but he can use the magic equivalent of chemistry just fine. And, on top of that, after Babylonia a certain goddess had magnanimously taken time out of her ever so busy schedule to teach him the graceful art of gem magic.

Or rather, a stuck up deity who Ichigo had bribed to be his friend had taught him how to shove magic energy into rocks he could throw at people to blow them the fuck up.

Combined with the runes that Cu had spent years drilling into his head, Ichigo could survive a regular mage battle fine on his own, if he had time to prepare. And war has made him paranoid, so he starts taking stock of everything that he’d been given.

Evil bones, dragon scales, eternal gears, crystals of several types and a mystic gunpowder. A few feathers, and a jar of scarabs. Chalk, too, and strong thread that’s more like fishing line.

There’s also, definitely for the best, a fire extinguisher in the corner.

“What kinda place is this, Ichigo?” Kon finally asks. He pokes at a jar of red liquid on top of the thick desk that Ichigo has been given. It’s all and all not very personalized, but for Ichigo’s purposes it’s more than enough. Especially given that Ichigo’s purpose was to sit somewhere where his dad wasn’t. Where he didn’t have to think about the spirits or the hollows or the shinigami, however briefly that might be.

“It’s just a house, Kon. A… friend of mine owns it. Think of it as our secret hide out,” Ichigo waves his hand around, idly.

“A secret hide out huh… I get it!” Kon bounced towards him, his soft paws scuffing lightly on the concrete floor. “This is a place to bring girls!”

Ichigo snorts and punts the plushie towards the stairs. “What girl is gonna hand around a creapy basement with you, huh? What are you a serial killer?”

“More like a lady killer! Or I could be, if I just had a body to call my own. Hey, you said I could borrow yours, remember!”

“I didn’t forget. Sorry, we’ve been busy,” Ichigo steps over him and climbs back up to the totally normal looking house above, with Kon on his heels. He lets out a soft breath. It feels too warm above ground, but Ichigo opens the windows and lets the sunlight pour inside upon his skin, lets the wind pull at his hair and dance through the drapes. “I’ll let you have it tonight, okay?”

“But nothing in this town ever happens at night!” Kon whines. When Ichigo sits on the couch he climbs up to flop across his lap, pouting.

“Just try to stretch your legs, and you can have some time on the weekend, deal?”

Kon considers him suspiciously before he nods, once.

“Deal.”

They sit together in the sunlight, in the foreign house, with the spring air cooling them until his phone goes off. Rukia, of course, because work doesn’t give him much of a break.

It’s alright. Sometimes a few minutes to breath is enough.

* *

Rukia Kuchiki is  not the first Shinigami that Ichigo has ever encountered.

There was another, a man who had taken to following their group around North America.

They met in 1783. He was… strange. And admittedly, it was a strange situation that they had found each other in. He’s pretty sure Shinigami don’t normally hang around Alcatraz, but what does he know? The island is infested with all sorts of monsters and guarded by one of the oldest heroes of written legend.

Beowulf. Powerful and vicious, battle hungry but not necessarily cruel. He’d even let them pass into the fortress after just a ‘test’ fight against a dragon.

They, or rather Ichigo, find the Shinigami with Sita, sitting next to her in the deepest prison of Alcatraz. Florence Nightingale is somewhere above them, charging headlong after him with Rama strapped to her back. He’s in bad shape, his curse slowly consuming his body, and Sita is their only chance to save him. Even without Beowulf the prison is crawling with dangerous creatures of all types.

Ichigo finds Sita first.

But she is not unguarded and Ichigo curses himself for leaving his servants upstairs to handle the chaos there.

Ichigo is more than capable of handling celtic soldiers, who fall beneath his vicious attacks and his steadily strengthening magic. The more he uses it the stronger it gets, and his body is adapting quickly to the strain it puts upon him. It’s only been a year or so and he can already go toe to toe with most average mages. A simple soldier with a spear is well within his abilities.

This man, Ichigo can tell with a second of inspection, is not.

He doesn’t have the same energy as a servant. And he’s dressed in clothes that aren’t celtic or american. He’s dressed like he’s from japan.

A black kosado and hakama. All black, with curly brown hair that’s nearly past his shoulders and brown eyes that almost fool Ichigo into thinking that he’s harmless.

But people are more themselves when they aren’t being watched, and this man, older than Ichigo and, he realizes, most certainly dead, has no idea he’s been seen.

He looks at Sita like she’s some kind of puzzle, like some game that he doesn’t know all the rules to. Ichigo stays a moment, and watches him watch her until Sita realizes that she has a visitor.

“Oh!”

She leans forwards on the bed, and right through the stranger, who half turns to look at Ichigo over his shoulder. He’s not interested in him though, not really. He can see it.

Roman is hiding something.

Something important, and he doesn’t know what but he does know now how to recognize when someone is hiding something. Even if it wasn’t for Roman, it’s not only heroes he’s summoned. There is an assassin class, and his heroes have their flaws. Their secrets. Each singularity is it’s own mystery and they are full of liars and tricksters and more than ever before Ichigo has a bone deep appreciation for people who are plain and true.

Ichigo crosses his arms over his chest and stares right at the ghost.

“You’re Sita, right? Rama’s wife?”

“My Lord Rama? Is he here?” she rushes to her feet, all red hair and fire the flutters like an ember on the wind. Not like Rama, who burns anything in his path if he must.

Ichigo nods, once. He lets the stranger inspect him too. There’s the smallest amount of stubble around his chin, like he hasn’t shaved in a while. And he’s armed. Saber class.

“Yes. But he’s injured. We need your help to heal him.”

Ichigo finally breaks eye contact with the ghost. He steps backwards and points his fist at the lock on the door. Sita hurries to brace herself and he shoots it off with a vicious Gandr. When he uses them on living things, he’s lucky to stun them. On inanimate objects, they blow up. He doesn’t get it, but that’s his life. Becuase fuck him, obviously.

“Yes!” Sita agrees eagerly. Her smile is equal parts soft and fierce. “If I can be of use to him, then I’ll do whatever I can.”

“Okay,” Ichigo stands away from the prison door. “Stand back,” he orders, and she steps back into the cell, against the door. The ghosts watches him raise his hand, holding up his fist at the door. The mystic code hums across his skin and he feeds his own mana into it. There’s a flash of pale blue and red and the lock explodes in shards of steel, just as they’re joined by others.

Rama comes stumbling around the corner, his fine clothes stained with blood and his body frayed at the edges. He looks bad. The hold in his chest is starting to gape and glow gold at the edges.

Ichigo hears the ghost suck in a sharp breath and he takes a step towards Rama before Ichigo cuts him off, blocking him from his friends. Sita rushes to him.

“Sita!” Rama reaches out around him and Ichigo can’t understand how he’s even on his feet. How deep does his love for his wife run? “Damn it, my vision is blurry. I can’t see anything…”

“I’m here!” Sita falls to his side as Rama collapses, finally succumbing to his festering wound. Ichigo watches, his hands clenched at his sides as Mash explains about Cu Chulainn Alter, and his Gae Bolg.

Ichigo stands back, with his Cu at his side. The caster leans on his staff, watching Sita gently stroke her husbands hair. They will never meet, and it drives pain into Ichigo’s chest on their behalf.

“Well. Fuck.” Cu says bluntly.

Ichigo snorted. “Yeah. That sums it all up pretty well.”

The ghost tries to take another step, but Ichigo catches his hand.

He spins, his brown eyes wide. “You- You can see me.”

“Well yeah. No shit,” Ichigo says aloud. Caster peers at him curiously, but Ichigo just taps the corner of his eye. A ghost, and Cu nods and leans back again. Even amongst his heroic spirits he’s an oddity. Not all of them can see ghosts. Only the ones that attack them, and more than once has Ichigo had to forcibly guide them into striking true.

Cu is a bit better. He hasn’t told him explicitly but Ichigo suspects that Scathach is somehow related to the afterlife. The land of shadows sounds like it should be full of ghosts.

Ichigo let’s go when the ghost pulls at his hand, peering at Ichigo. It’s funny, watching someone pull a metaphorical mask onto their face. This one is a kind person, someone who’s harmless, but Ichigo can still see them. He is armed and his eyes betray him, as eyes so often do.

Sharp and intelligent. Like a cat watching him.

“I suppose you do have some reitsu. But to be able to see me, is still not an easy feat.”

Ichigo frowns. “I do? It feels like all of it’s being sucked out by everyone at Chaldea…”

“Excuse me?” he blinks at Ichigo a couple of times.

“Nevermind. There’s just some people who are sucking up my reitsu so they don’t disappear, you know?”

And now even the ghost was looking at him like he’s crazy. Great. Awesome.

The glittering glow of Sita’s body dissolving interrupts them, and Ichigo turns to face his servants with a hard clench of his jaw. Rama slowly sits up, sorrow over taking his features. Even in a holy grail war, he will never meet his wife again.

“We should go,” Ichigo says quietly. “We still have to go east. We have to finish what we started. Rama, are you ready?” Ichigo goes to him, and offers him his hand. Rama takes it and stands.

“Yes. My body does not falter. I renew my vows now, Master of Chaldea. I, Rama, King of Kosala, will fight at your side. I shall not be defeated again. This I swear!” He bows his head to Ichigo, this proud, powerful king.

“Yes,” Liz steps up, a noble countess with her chin lifted and her eyes defiant. “We will win, for you our master!”

“We will rip out the root of the infection,” Nightingale agrees, smacking her hands together. Her red eyes burn with a ferocity that would make lesser men tremble.

Mash nods, shortly and firmly. “I will put my faith in Master, and follow his lead.”

“You already know that I will strike down your enemies,” Medusa adds, her long hair swaying with the promise of poisons.

“Lead the way, Master,” Cu claps his shoulder and Ichigo looks each of the mover in turn. Finally, he speaks.

“I swear I told you to use my damn name. You’re all so dramatic.”

Cu laughs at him, and Ichigo starts the long walk. From Alcatraz to Washington.

Only now they have a tag along. The ghost insists on following them along, because apparently Ichigo and the singularity is dangerous enough to warrant his attention. Which is  great .

“What do I call you then,” Ichigo asks, side-eying his newest companion.

He tilts his head, sending brown waves spilling across his shoulders.

“Mmmm. Kyo,” he says after a minute.

“...That is  not a real name.”

* * *

“So, your friend, the Lord, how do you know him?”

Ichigo looks up at Rukia. She’s standing over his bed that night. Chad is asleep in the corner, passed out after a study session run long.

“Who, Waver? We met a while ago.”

Ichigo scoots back on the bed, until his back is to the wall and he can sit, criss cross, looking at her. Waver had come to town earlier, on business as much as to see Ichigo. They’d talked, briefly, in front of the school earlier until Ichigo had had to rush off. Not before Waver had extracted a promise to meet up with him a few days in the future. Apparently there was some weird shit going on in town that had nothing to do with Ichigo and his friends, but was now his problem because he was a mage.

A two bit one, but still.

“How?” Rukia asks, narrowing her eyes at him if only slightly.

Ichigo considers telling her everything, but it’s a bit too much to believe.

‘I time travelled for three years trying to stop the incineration of humanity and I met him as a demi servant and his old servant because he fought for a holy grail and oh yeah did I mention i punched god?’

Yeah, no. Even shinigami didn’t go time travelling. He’d checked. It didn’t help that most shinigami were so out of touch with the living world that even three hundred years ago they didn’t know much about human magics or the goings on. Before the fall of the age of gods humans and spirits had been closer, had almost lived together. Ereshkigal had told him some of how it worked, four thousand years ago, but he’s certain things have changed. For one, she is clearly not in charge of the afterlife anymore. Which begs the question of just where she had gone.

To the reverse side of the world? Or somewhere else entirely?

“After Chaldea,” he says instead, picking over his words with as much care as he can, “After the explosion of Chaldea, their patrons, the Clock Tower in London, sent someone to see what was happening. And to take stock in the situation. Waver was the one that they sent.

“Apparently he gets the ‘problem children’ a lot.” And that was what they were, really. He and Mash, they were just teenagers. Even now. Eighteen….

Eighteen is not enough years for what he’s seen, what he’s done. For the choices he’s had to make.

“No wonder they sent him for you,” Rukia snorts at him, but there’s a smile at the corner of her mouth and Ichigo fights not to return it. Instead he scowls, as he usually does.

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves his hand dismissively at her. “I’m going to get a drink. Do you wanna come with?”

“No,” she shakes her head and he stands and leaves her in his bedroom. His dad is in the clinic. He’s been avoiding Ichigo for weeks, ever since that day in the cemetery and Ichigo is fine with that. He’s still angry.

Yuzu and Karin are up in their own room, and the lower half of the house is quiet. Ichigo pours himself some water and takes a few minutes to calm himself. Waver has him on edge, and more than that…

Something is coming. He doesn’t know what, yet, but his instincts are hissing in the back of his mind, louder and louder ever since he took Rukia’s power as his own. Something is something. Something dangerous. Something deadly. Some change he has no idea how to see or stop.

His cup is covered in a thin layer of frost.

Ichigo stares down at it.

The cold spreads across the surface, white eating over the glass. Elegant swirls of frozen leaves spread out from his finger tips.

He pours out the water and puts the cup away, trying not to think about it.

Because even with Ichigo, even with magic and ghosts and all the other shit in his life, he’s never frozen anything. He isn’t fucking Jack Frost.

He goes back upstairs, trying not to think about it, and helps Rukia rouse Chad to send him on his way home. There’s work to be done. A smarter man would ask about the ice. Would mention it to Rukia. Would wonder if the two aren’t connected.

And Ichigo is not stupid, but he’s maybe a little too used to strange things happening and learning the why at a later date.

* * * *

The acrid smell of burning flesh sears into his mind. Into his soul. Choking him, smoke curled into his lung like an ash made cat that tears claws into the soft tissue.

It’s red. Red, red, red everywhere. Fire singes along the edges of reality. The earth hovers, red and burning and doomed from the start. Doomed from babylonia, doomed from the present and the now.

Mash lays in front of him. Crushed, broken. No shield, no armor, just a dead little girl, reaching for his hand.

Yuzu and Karin are sprawled apart from eachother and they never should be, never should be, because they are twins, they were born together nothing should ever tear them apart-

Isshin. Isshin and his mother, they lie beside a river that runs with fire instead of water. Bloody, broken, staring at Ichigo.

The air shifts and the glittering shine of gold spins around him with a scream. His servants, his friends, cut down and torn apart and left only as glitter that roars their betrayal at him. At his failure. He is the master, the center of power, but he cannot fight on his own. He is powerless in the face of the hulking monster that drags itself out of the rubble to kill him.

He takes a step back, fear clogging his throat. Lahmu crawl across the broken rubble of Fuyuli, of Uruk, of Rome and London and Camelot. His foot hits something. He doesn’t look down, he doesn’t need to. Orange and green and white. White and gold and black. Romani, laid to waste.

He is helpless. Powerless. His command spells are gone and he has failed. Lost.

Fire roars at his throat and-

He’s punched in the face by the smell of perfume.

Ichigo looks up at the sky. Pale blue, a few whisps of cloud floating across it.

He drinks in air. Air that tastes like flowers instead of ashes and death.

Something soft touches his shoulder and it’s only familiarity that keeps him from lashing out.

Lavender eyes peer down at him. It’s his hand on his shoulder. His Caster.

His Merlin.

“Wha- I’m in a dream?” Ichigo sits, slowly, and Merlin helps him up. A warm hand on his shoulder and guilt in his eyes.

“Yes. I’m sorry,” Merlin shakes his head, mournfully. “I normally call you here before they can set in, but I was distracted this time…”

“Distracted,” Ichigo repeats dumbly. “Wait. So every time you’ve brought me here, it’s because I was going to have a nightmare?”

“I did tell you, once. Incubi are made of dreams. And I, as half of one, gain my sustenance out of them as well. Bad dreams are sour, so I don’t want yours to-”

“Cut the crap,” Ichigo elbows him lightly in the side. “Just tell me the truth. We’re friends and you don’t want to see me suffering.”

Merlin can only stare at him for a second. “... I always forget how brazen you are, Ichigo. You never have minced your words. You really consider me a friend, do you?”

“Of course I do! And don’t try to give me any shit about we can’t be friends because I’m human. I’m not anymore, remember. I’m a shinigami.”

“Yes, yes. And isn’t that ironic? I, unable to die, and you a creature made of death.”

“You make a bad philosopher. Stick to being a dreamer, Merlin.”

Merlin merely laughs at him, a softness in the wind, and Ichigo sits with him until the sun comes up outside his bedroom window.

* * * * *

What was with people and coming in through his window?

Ichigo stares at the man, Urahara, that is sitting on his window sill. Kon is having a minor panic attack in his arms, flailing around. Rukia has left. Vanished with only a note to tell them not to look for her and if she thinks Ichigo will listen to it, she doesn’t know him very well at all. Ichigo has never been one to abandon his friends, even if they don’t explain what’s happening or why they’re in trouble.

Ichigo will go after her, but first he needs to figure out how to turn into a shinigami again. Kon is no help, he’s too busy running around for Ichigo to dig his pill form out of his plush body. And this man…

His timing is too good. Is he some kind of clairvoyant, like Gilgamesh? Or just a man with far too many cards in his hand to play?

Whatever the case, Ichigo is strangely glad that he’s here. Without Rukia’s glove and with Kon losing his mind, Ichigo needs help to get out of his body.

“So you’ll pop me out of my body,” Ichigo says, eying his cane, “Just because Rukia is a regular customer. Is your shop really that slow?” He definitely has too much time on his hands.

“That’s right!” the man practically sings and Ichigo could swear for an instant his eyes were lavender instead of grey. He’s like a strange mix of Merlin and Da Vinci.

And isn’t  that a scary thought?

“...Yeah, okay. I’d appreciate the help.”

Kisuke pushes his cane through Ichigo’s chest and he pops out the other side like a weasel.

Ichigo carefully lays his body in bed and covers it up. It’s almost two in the morning and normal humans are asleep, including his family. He picks a few small rocks out of his school bag, simple stones with straight lines carved onto them. He eyes Kisuke, still sitting in the window.

“When I get back from this, I’ve got a couple of questions for you,” he says, marching up to Kisuke, who flicks his fan out over his mouth. Only his eyes are visible and those are still hidden in shadow.

“Oh? I can’t imagine what you’d ask a simple shop keeper like me…”

“Plenty,” Ichigo says plainly. He plants his hand next to Kisuke’s head and leans over him. “But for now. Get out of my room.”

He pushes him straight out the window, and onto the lawn beneath. Ichigo figures that he’s probably tough enough to take a little tumble. He trusts Kisuke to be fine before he jumps out the window after him. He needs to get to Rukia. He can feel it. Something is happening.

His instincts hiss that he needs to  move .

He follows the feeling of coolness and wind and snowflakes that he can almost see. It’s joined by another feeling, something clean and pale and just a little bit angry, thin threads that wrap together to be stronger.. Uryuu.

He needs to hurry.

Ichigo sprints across the city, pouring on his speed. Faster and faster until he swears he’s running on the wind.

He turns the corner.

Uryu on the ground, Rukia not far. Two Shinigami. Red hair and black. The red head with his sword lifted above Uryu’s head, ready to strike.

Ichigo swings his sword off his back and the streets cracks and erupts beneath the sudden force of his power. It throws the shinigami, Renji Abarai, off of his feet.

“Huh? Who are you? Who’s orders are you here on?” he barks.

Ichigo ignores him. He touches Uryu’s shoulder, making sure he’s still in one piece, and pours Mana into his human body. It should be enough to jump start his own healing process. Mana transference is about all Ichigo is good for anyhow.

“What did you…?” Uryu looks up at him, bewildered.

“Later,” Ichigo says. He blocks the blow that comes from behind, bracing himself against the ground.

“I get it,” Renji pushes down hard, his eyes wild. He feels like fire and venom and bone. “You’re the one that stole Rukia’s powers! Because of you, she’s going to be executed!”

Ichigo’s blood runs cold. Rukia. Executed? For helping him? For giving him the power to protect his friends, his family?

No. He will not allow it.

“That’s bullshit!” Ichigo throws him back, power surging through him. His own anger and the energy that Rukia has given him. Cold coursing through his veins. “Rukia was just helping, she saved us! Isn’t that what your job is?!”

“She broke the rules is what she did. What’s a few human lives to a shinigami? She should have never done that.”

A few human-

Ichigo throws himself at Renji with vicious abandon. Renji is fast but Ichigo is strong, Rukia is strong, and it’s her power that lets him swing his sword with utmost surety.

Still, it’s hard to keep up when Renji won’t shut up. Something about menos and children and then he asks Ichigo’s swords name.

He frowns and racks his brain. That feels like something he should know. On the tip of his tongue. His sword. Rukia’s sword. Does it have a name?

Renji takes his silence for ignorance and he’s not wrong.

He puts his sword in front of him and it glows faintly red. The taste of fire and bone is stronger.

“A shinigami’s zanpakuto is the true form of their soul, it’s their true power. And this is mine! Now Roar, Zabimaru!”

Ichigo watches the sword change, grow fangs and cracks. A Noble Fantasm? No, it’s much weaker. He looks at Renji, looks harder at his power. He’s strong, probably stronger than Ichigo but is he stronger than Ichigo and Rukia together? This will have to be a battle where he can’t rely on brute strength.

The sword swings and the cracks pull apart until it’s a glorified whip with teeth and Ichigo jumps back to dodge it. The stones weigh heavy in his pocket and his mind whirls. No longer a saber, no longer capable of simply attacking and slashing until he’s won.

“Give up already! You’re 2000 years too young to beat me!”

And maybe Renji would be right. Maybe he would be too much for Ichigo to handle, in another life. Maybe if he really was just a fifteen year old kid, shihakusho more green than black, he would leave him laying in a puddle of blood without breaking a sweat.

But Ichigo is not fifteen. He is eighteen and he has fought eight wars. He has ended extinction and walked the land of the dead, and demons, and stood amongst stars. He has fought and bled and killed and died, and he has done it all for his family, his friends.

And now.

Now these two are trying to take another friend. They are trying to steal Rukia, to punish her for saving him and giving him strength enough to fight.

And he will not allow it.

His temper howls, blood rushing into his ears and battle fury washes over his skin.

Beneath it, beneath that hot fire that has driven him for so much of his life there’s something else. Something cold and foreign, frost on a window pane in summertime, snow floating around a campfire.

He lunges for Renji.

Renji is forced to release his noble phantasm, his zanpakuto. It lashes out, a segmented whip that bites the pavement with terrible teeth. Ichigo takes it in stride, catches it’s glinting teeth in his own too-long blade and twirls it like spaghetti around a knife. The teeth catch and hold, Renji’s eyes go wide and Ichigo yanks him forward with his zanpakuto.

He takes one hand off his own sword and drives it into Renji’s jaw. His teeth click and blood spurts between his lips before he drops like a lead balloon.

With Renji at his feet Ichigo turns to face Rukia and the man in the white cloak. He tilts his long blade, letting Renji’s zanpakuto slide off. On the ground it glows faintly red and returns to its original form.

“Are you next then?” Ichigo asks, his voice careful and calm even as the wrold inside him rages. Plans pick up and he reads this mans strengths. He’s leagues ahead of Ichigo but even still…

Ichigo is not the type to run. He is not the type to give up. No matter that Rukia is screaming at him to. He won’t-

He twists and blocks the blow he had barely ever seen, his sword moving faster than his mind.

Surprise registers on the man’s face, muted and little more than a twist of his mouth and a twitch of his eyes. Ichigo shoves him away, but he wasn’t fast enough.

Blood seeps out of his back. The cut it shallow, it won’t slow him down but the fact remains. He got hit.

Faster, whispers a voice in the back of his head. A memory, a premonition. He blocks the next attack but only just and under the force of the drawn sword, his own begins to crack. No. No, he will not lose, not like this.

He shoves the man back and flings one of the stones at him, shooting a burst of Mana through it. The man in white has to move fast to avoid the fire that erupts in front of him.

“Ichigo?” Rukia stares at him, her mouth open. “What was that?!”

“I’m not that great at magic,” Ichigo admits, tossing another stone up and down in his hand. He never takes his eyes off of his enemy. “In fact, I wouldn’t even call myself a real mage. I’m pretty second rate at this stuff. But this much… This much I can do.”

He shoots another stone at the shinigami in front of him, who’s name he never did get, and grins when he’s forced to release his own zanpakuto. He’s glad about it, but Rukia is screaming at him.

The air fills with glittering flower petals and Ichigo tastes steel, feels the weight of ‘Duty’ and ‘Honor’ and the scent of sakura blossoms wash across his skin.

They surge at him, a tidal wave of power, danger. Each one is a blade and Ichigo cannot dodge of block them all. Even still, he will not run. He will-

  Protect Rukia!  

Fine.

Cold chases through his body, Rukia’s power surges. Ichigo gives his strength over to it, pours his reitsu into the sword as he once did his saber’s and the sound of bells echoes around him.

A ribbon flutters graceful in front of his face and he swings, running on instinct alone.

The wave of flower petals is stopped in its tracks. Frozen in a circle of ice that reaches towards the sky.

Ichigo is aware, from the shock on the faces of the people around him, that he’s just done something impossible. Again.

Oh well.

He turns again to the Shinigami, bringing his blade in front of him. Not his, Rukia’s. He was going to save her-

“Rikujōkōrō.”

Ichigo shouted when light, six straight rectangles of it, slammed into his stomach. He froze, unable to move. The ice shattered and the blades inside of it floated back to their master, reforming into a single sword. This time, Ichigo couldn’t block. He could do nothing as the blade pierced him twice, and the light faded.

He tried. He did. He would crawl if he had to but-

“Stay alive, for just a little longer, Ichigo. And if you follow me, I will never forgive you.”

He can recognize what she’s doing. She’s drawing the man, Byakuya, and the newly awakened Renji away from him. She is protecting him, and the helplessness is acid on his tongue.

He was left, bleeding, dying, on the streets of Karakura.

* * * * * *