#stop talking down on yourself michael please youre one of the best guys in the world

[pass-the-5sauce]

He's got the best friends in this place 🥺

[missbunnybunny]

-Reunión familiar(family reunion)-

Widow introducing her family to her 141 family. Fluff, same trauma talk( just a lil), widow being well.....WIDOW. Alex and Michael being very protective of their little and big sis. König secretly asks Michael and Alex for widows' hands. This is pure crack that my mind come up with. Sorry for any misspellings and errors I made. Enjoy~

Please like,reblog, or boost this post, THANK YOU!

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Today was a well-deserved rest for 141 task force, widows' wounds had healed up nicely, and 141 + köng could spend time with her. But most of all, captain price had managed to get the higher-ups to let you brothers visit you.

To say you were happy was an understatement. You were jumping up and down. This would be the first time in year's you get to see them!

Ghost and the rest of the squad just shook their heads. König was given the instructions to stand behind widow and hold her in place by the shoulders.

That way, she couldn't tackle them to death. You know how a puppy acts when they get excited. Yeah, that's widow right now. Then, there was the sound of a car pulling up to the base.

“ Widow! Let go off königs arm! König stand up for yourself.” Captain Price yelled. Widow was giggling and swinging from the poor giant's arm. “ maus, I know you're excited, but please calm down.” könig spoke up. He was happy for her, really, but he still wanted his arm in one piece. After the widow did end up calming down, she said “ Sorry, I am just off the walls today more than usual.”

After a little bit, two tall men speaking Spanish walked in. Captain price greeted them “ Welcome, am captain John price.” he introduced himself while shaking their hands.

The taller one spoke up “ it’s a pleasure, sir, am Michael, and this is Alex.” he said with a small smile. “ Hello, sir.” Alex spoke. After some more small talk, Michael started to look around.

“ Now, where is that enana(short/small girl)hiding?” Micheal said. Price laughed and told König to “ set her free, big guy.” König did as he was told and let her go." Widow ran and tackled her older brother, almost taking him down.

“ Hermano, te extrañé mucho. Y no soy enana! Es que eres una mata! (Brother, I have missed you so much. And am not short! It’s that you're a tree)” widow said. Michael laughed while spinning her around. When he put her down, the widow was walking like a drunk. “ wey, estoy mariada. ( am dizzy 😵‍💫)” was all she could say.

Alex gave his big sister a big hug with a bright smile. “ Is it me, or you have gotten shorter, Hermana.” Alex teased, looking down at his older sister. “ I hate you” widow responds to which Alex says “ and I love you too.”

“come on i’ll introduce you to the team.” Widow smiled. Pointing towards soap, you say “ This is jabón, his the funny one.” Alex and Michael shake his hand “ hola soap, it’s nice to meet you”they say. It went on like that until you got to the last member König.

“ and this is König , el lindo gigante( the cute giant)” you said with a big smile. “ el diablo, este si e grande.( holy shit his big!)” Micheal said while looking up a König.

Alex’s mouth was wide open for a moment than the whisper to his sister “ ese tú novio, wepa felicidades ( that your boyfriend, damn congratulations.)” he said. König was shifting nervously, and Michael said “ don’t worry, we just complemented you. Nothing bad.”

Widow was red-faced and hitting both her brothers “ No es mi novio, yo no se si le gustó o no!! ( his not my boyfriend, I don’t even know if he likes me or not.”

Everyone knew that König liked widow, except for the Widow herself. She wasn’t the best at picking up the social cues of a person being romantically attracted to her. You just had to tell her and wait for the results.

“ ya hungry? I’ll make ya someth’ to eat.” Widow asked , turning around and heading to the kitchen. Michael and Alex stopped in their tracks, became pale, and yelled “ No!?!” At the same time.

The thought of their sister cooking horrified them. Widow stopped in her tracks and looked at her brothers confused, Michael said, a little shaken “ I love you pero coñraso no! ( but fucking no!)”

Alex cleared his throat “ ahm.. um, I don’t wanna offended you or anything, but your cooking is poison, woman! Your cooking almost killed us when we were young.”

“that was one time!” Widow pointed in embarrassment. Michael got to widows eye level and with a straight face said “ we have a tolerance for poison , after eating your cooking for so long. Te quiero pero me mato. ( i love you, but I’ll end myself.) You are not cooking.”

Everyone was looking away from the bickering siblings, Gaz and soap were on their knees holding their stomachs. Widow turned around, and face planted into König, giving him a hug. König hugged you back and patted your head. you looked up at him “ Their mean to me, Rey (king).” to told him pouting.

König laughed and said “ there , there little Maus” Alex and Michael started cooing “ uuuu, que lindos los enamorados( uuu, how cute are the lovers)” Alex said. “ cuando es la boda ( when is the wedding)” widow turned around, still holding on to könig “ váyanse a la chingada ( go to hell).” Widow pouted.

Soap after cry laughing himself calm said “ come on, I’ll teach ya to cook.” Widow and könig walked behind soap as he led the way to the kitchen.

König and soap cooked a every good meal. widow helped by cutting the vegetables and the meat of the dishs. After everyone had finished eating ,they cleaned the dishes and sat at the table.

König asked to speak speak to Michael and Alex in private, and they agreed while Widow was playing uno with everyone . While they walked away they could here widow yell “ + 4 descarriado ( fucker)” looking right at soap.

Alex asked “ So what cha wanna talk about könig.” “ I- um.. can I ask for widows' hand? can i date her and maybe marry her?” He asked nervously and shyly. The brothers looked at each other and broke into smiles.

“Oh please, get that menace to society under control” one laughed. “ About time, never seen her so happy” the other said. “ Like, look at her!” Michael said. Widow looked up from her card and smiled like a silly fool.

“ So is that a yes?” He spoke softly. “Yess!!” They said. Michael spoke up in a more serious tone “ Make her happy, but if you hurt her like our shit of a pops or that ass of an ex-fiance. We won’t hesitate to hunt ya down.”

König shoke their hands and said “ don’t worry, I’ll take care of her like a queen.” Michael nodded “ Good , now let’s get back.” Alex said “ yesss! I wanna beat her ass in uno. No mercy!”

Widow called to her siblings and könig “ Come join us, am gonna make ya cry like pendejos ( cowards)” könig said he would be the referee and so the war began.

Somehow, everyone somehow ended up skipping or + 4ring soap, “ and uno, uno out.” Widow yelled victoriously. Michael groaned and called me a cheater, Alex laughed cuz soap was caught trying to cheat by König.

They played more rounds until ghost ended up winning, cuz they kinda forgot he was even playing. He was quietly biting his time. Soap called him a " sneaky fucker."

Those few days with your whole family together made you extremely happy. The day your brothers had to return to their bases, you cried like a baby. Trying to hide it by hiding behind könig. König trying to coax you out. Widow looked like a sad cat crying to her owner, wouldn't leave. “ Come on, maus, you have to tell them goodbye.”

“ don’t wanna” she pouted. Michael said laughing “ Si no me dices adios, te halo por la oreja, niña. ( If you don’t tell me goodbye, I’ll pull you by the ear, girl.)”

“ fine” Widow said while walking over to them. She gave them a big hug. “ No, me olviden si?( don’t forget me,yea?)” She said softly. Michael flicked her on her forehead “ Even if we wanted, we could never. We love ya too much to do that.”

Alex hugged his big sister and said “ Next time let’s get some matching tattoos, yea.” Widow smiled and nodded her head excitedly. “ yes” she said while jumping a little.

Michael whispered in her ear “ cuando te vas a casar( when are ya gonna marry)” Widow shook her head, laughing and said “ When you get married, buenos feos( ugly) or i become an aunt”.

“ Get ya asses going, or y’all be late for ya flight.” Widow said. They finally got in the car and left, widow was feeling less sad. Cuz even tho her brothers left, she still had her friend, her company, her FAMILY. She hugged ghost, gaz,soap, price, and könig, gaz asks her “ Now, what’s gotten into ya.”

To which widow responded “ am just happy to have the family I had always wanted. I got y’all and my brothers, I couldn’t ask for anything else” she turned to them with a smile. The smile they always loved to see on her face because that was the real widow.

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

I can safely say widow is very happy at the moment. anyone wanna give bunny-san some writing ideas, her head empty.

Also, my posting schedule is very questionable cuz ✨️ C O L L E G E ✨️is kicking my ass 😃. Night yall, it's 1 am 😭.

[madsworld15]

Heal Me, Hold Me, Make Me, Know Me Chapter 4 Part 1

This isn't nearly as long as the sections I usually post, but I stopped at the best stopping point for this section. This part of Chapter 4 is in Justin POV.

Please enjoy! Thanks always to my lovely pals @winderlylandchime @maryp50 and @lostcol

July

Justin’s hand control was getting better, day by day, but he still struggled to draw or paint for an extended period of time. It wasn’t anything super frustrating; it just prevented him from quickly getting anywhere with the ideas he had for art pieces. His mother had been insistent that he “keep up the work in OT,” while Emmett and Daphne would smile at him and say, “You’ve come so far!”

The only person in Justin’s life who didn’t insist that he be fine with the functionality of his hand was Brian. The older man wouldn’t praise him or begrudge him about it. In fact, more often than not, Justin found Brian was ambivalent about what was going on around him. Pride weekend had been a great example of how much Brian could do the “couple thing” when he wanted to. But, since then, their conversations had been more vague and distant. Brian still allowed Justin to live with him, but he was back to working all the time or going out to Babylon until the wee hours. 

Justin didn’t care as much, considering he was now back to working at the diner a couple of nights a week. It was slower at night, so Justin could ease himself into being around crowds again. Plus, when his hand got tired and started to shake, he had extended periods between customers where he could let it relax. 

“Can I ask you something?” Justin approached Emmett, who sat at the counter with a low-cut tank in bright green and pleather pants to match.

“Sure, baby.” Emmett put his fork down, rested his hands atop one another, and gave Justin his full attention, “What is it?”

“Do you think Brian is annoyed that he still has to keep an eye on me? I know it’s been months, and if I ask him, he ignores me and continues to let me stay.” Justin bit his lip nervously.

“Hmm.” Emmett paused, “Brian is really hard to read on a good day. But has he threatened to kick you out yet?”

“No.” Justin shrugged looking his best friend up and down.

“Well, then, you are still in good hands. If Brian is annoyed by you, he will not so politely ask you to leave. I’ve seen him do it to Michael once when he accidentally spilled beer on Brian’s new designer couch.” Emmett reached out and grabbed Justin’s hand.

“Besides, from what I hear. You don’t need much caretaking these days.” Emmett winked at him and motioned to the diner around them.

His message was loud and clear. Justin was simply making a mountain out of a molehill. He was back to working and doing art; however, the process was slow. There was no reason to worry that he was annoying Brian. 

So, then, why won’t he talk to me like we once did?

After helping out a customer on the other side of the diner, Justin came back over to where Emmett sat. The charming Southerner was done eating his meal, but he made no move to leave. Justin appreciated that he seemed to be hanging out for Justin.

“Okay. So he hasn’t kicked me out yet. Then explain why he doesn’t come by the diner while I’m working.” Justin gave Emmett a raised eyebrow look.

“Well, now that Brian is partner, he has to work longer, harder hours.” Emmett shrugged, but then he leaned over the counter to be closer to Justin for the next set of words out of his mouth.

“Add in that he’s extremely attracted to you physically, and he wants to respect your boundaries. So, he has to find alternatives.” Emmett’s eyes swam with joy and excitement at what that meant for his friend.

“What changed that he avoids me now? I mean, he’s been attracted to me physically since before I finally agreed to be with him.” Justin shrugged, still not convinced that Brian’s distance wasn’t a bad thing.

“You guys now live together, and you told me yourself that you share the same bed.” Emmett gave him a pointed look, “Do you know how often Brian shares his bed with someone without having sex?”

“I’d guess very rarely,” Justin whispered, wiping the counter off with his rag.

“I’ve known Brian upwards of a decade, and I would say I’ve only heard of it happening one other time. He was drunk, and Michael was there to comfort him after a nasty round with his dad.” Emmett shrugged.

Just then, Alex came into the diner yawning, his eyes only half-alert. He gave Justin a forced smile and stepped behind the counter to put on his apron.

“Hey, Justin. Slow night?” Alex looked around at the lack of patronage.

“Yeah. But Babylon is closing, so there are sure to be some stragglers coming in soon.” Justin handed over his order pad and took off the apron he was wearing. “Have a good night, Alex.”

Emmett walked with Justin all the way to Brian’s loft. It was 2 am, and Justin was exhausted, so the two friends barely uttered more than ten words between them. This was becoming a bit of a routine anytime Emmett happened to be at the diner during Justin’s shift. He would hang out until Justin got off, and then he would walk the young man home. Justin’s attackers had been arrested the Monday after Pride, but everyone was still on edge. Especially Brian, Justin, and Emmett. 

“So, Brian told me the trial is coming up soon.” Emmett tried to make conversation as they approached Brian’s building.

“Yeah. Debbie wants me to go, but my mom and Brian think it’s probably not a good idea since I’m still having nightmares and mini freakouts when strangers get too close.” Justin reached into his bag to get his keys out. His eyes darted all around him as a precaution.

“What do you want to do?” Emmett placed a protective hand on Justin’s shoulder and held it there while the younger man unlocked the front door.

“Honestly? I have no idea. Part of me wants to see the judge nail the bastards. But on the other hand, what if they get off? I don’t want to be in the room when that happens.” Justin shrugged as they both climbed into the freight elevator.

Arriving on the top floor, Justin could hear light music and voices coming from the loft. It was weird because Brian rarely had anyone come over now that Justin was staying with him. He looked at Emmett, who shrugged but didn’t look too concerned. Perhaps Michael had come over to drink with Brian like they sometimes did. 

Justin slid the door open and was immediately met with the visual of Brian fucking some guy over the back of the couch. He felt the air leave his lungs the minute his eyes landed on the brunette – his face scrunched up in a mixture of effort and ecstasy. Justin had always known that Brian slept with anything that moved. It was never a secret, even after they started considering themselves together. But, once Justin had agreed to move in with Brian, they had agreed that Brian wouldn’t fuck anyone in the loft. That was the only rule Justin ever put on Brian and their relationship.

“Oh, hey.” Brian smiled at Justin over the top of his latest trick. With one last groan and jab of his hip, Brian came into the man under him and then collapsed.

Justin could feel the sting of tears in his eyes, which he didn’t dare let Brian see. In fact, he didn’t want Brian to have the satisfaction of knowing he had gotten to him at all. Without a word to his boyfriend, Justin crossed over to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water. Emmett silently followed him. Once they were a bit away from Brian, Emmett addressed the situation.

“Do you want me to stay? Do you want to come home with me for tonight?” Emmett’s eyes were brimming with emotion like Justin had never seen before. And after he shook his head, he saw Emmett throw the dirtiest look over his shoulder at Brian.

While he knew he hadn’t known anyone in his newfound family for more than a year at this point, Justin had never seen Emmett be less than understanding toward Brian. He didn’t always approve, but he’d never before been blatantly disgusted by Brian’s behavior until now. Emmett leaned over and wrapped Justin in a hug while placing a kiss on his cheek.

“I’m just a call away, baby if you change your mind,” Emmett said loud enough for Brian to hear. 

Then, Emmett and the trick left with as much fanfare as they’d both probably arrived.

Brian pulled on some pants but didn’t fasten them. Instead, he sauntered over to where Justin was still standing in the kitchen and attempted to kiss the younger man. Justin ducked out of his touch and moved away from the man entirely.

“What’s got your dick in a twist?” Brian’s voice was on the verge of anger, and Justin knew this wouldn’t be a fun conversation, but he didn’t care. 

“I come home from work to find you on the couch…” Justin muttered, motioning toward the spot where Brian and his trick had just been. His frustration and anger seeped out more than he had intended.

“How is this anything new? You knew going into this that I fuck any guy I want and have no remorse about it.” Brian slammed the refrigerator door shut after grabbing his own bottle of water. “We’re not fucking married, Justin!”

“No! But we did have an agreement!” Justin stepped closer to Brian as his temper flared, “You promised you wouldn’t fuck anyone here at the loft.”

Brian didn’t respond. Instead, he just scoffed.

“This is my loft. I don’t have to fucking answer to you. You’re not my fucking wife!”

“You’re right. I’m not!” Justin started and then continued just as passionately, “If you wanted me to move out, you could have just used your words and told me to get the fuck out.” Justin’s chest heaved with all his pent-up anger.

“I’m well aware that you don’t share your personal space with anyone for longer than it takes for you to fuck them. So, why’d you let me stay here? Huh? Was it because you felt guilty? Because I’m not going to stick around and be at the mercy of someone’s pity!” Justin moved about the loft, gathering up some of his things and throwing them into his duffle. He wasn’t sure where he would end up, but he knew he had to get out of there.

He half expected Brian to say something, anything to get him to stay, but he didn’t. It was just as well. Brian didn’t want him around anymore anyway. Justin might as well move out now and find his own way. He could go back to living with Daphne now that things with his injuries had settled down. But, for tonight, he would go somewhere else to avoid waking Daphne up at 3 am.

With one final look back at Brian, who was standing in the kitchen still, trying to make sense of what was going on, his eyes still angry, Justin left.

Justin walked until he realized his feet had carried him all the way to Debbie’s house, just around the corner from the diner. He hadn’t ever been to her home unexpectedly before, but something in his gut told him that she would welcome him in with open arms. Sure enough, he’d barely just finished knocking when the door swung open to her smiling face.

“Sunshine! Imagine seeing you here. Where’s Brian?” She looked around behind him as if perhaps Brian was hiding in the shadows.

“We kind of had…” Justin couldn’t even bring himself to say fight because a fight would imply that Brian cared at all. Which his lack of a reaction when Justin left said otherwise. “Anyway, could I crash here tonight?”

Debbie grabbed him around his shoulder and ushered him into her front room as she said, “Of course, honey. My house is always open.”

“I promise I will be out of your hair tomorrow. I am going to ask Daphne if I can move back in with her. I’m doing much better now.” Justin paused long enough to lick his lips and look at Debbie’s face instead of the room at large, “It’s time.”

“So, Brian kicked you out huh?” Debbie scoffed. Her apparent disdain for Brian’s behavior dripping from her every word. “Wouldn’t say I’m surprised.”

“I am.” Vic said from where he now stood at the bottom of the stairs. “Things seemed different this time.”

“A leopard never changes his spots.” Debbie pointed at her brother, “Brian might try to do the right thing but in the end his selfishness wins out.”

Then without another word to Vic she turned back to Justin and motioned him to follow her. “C’mon hon. I can get Michael’s old room set up for you for the night.”

Vic gave his shoulder a squeeze as Justin walked past the older man. “Don’t make any quick decisions about him. Give him a chance.”

“A chance? Justin has given that man so many chances. Why should now be different?” Debbie screeched from the top of the stairs.

“Because, sis. He’s under alot of pressure right now. You know I saw him taking his mother to church yesterday. Brian Kinney, in a church.” Vic once again defended the brunette.

“Oh.” Debbie paused with a load of clean sheets and blankets in her hands. “Yeah. You should sleep on it sunshine. Give him some room.”

Justin wanted desperately to ask what it was about Brian’s mother that immediately changed Debbie’s tune about his behavior, but he could tell from the way Vic and Debbie were exchanging looks that he wouldn’t get anywhere. Instead, the blonde took the blankets from Debbie and went into the room he’d stayed at a few weeks prior when Brian had been out of town.

[nightmarebeforenewsiesau]

...As promised, here's the lore post, in the form of a written scene about one of your favorite little guys.

(Spoiler alert: don't get too attached to the little guy)

Grab a stuffed animal, some candies, and sit down for this one.

-

“Good morning, boss!”

“Mikey.” Pulitzer acknowledged him emotionlessly. That was how he did most things, He only really chose to show anger, so an emotionless response was usually a good thing- at least he wasn’t yelling.

“What’d you wanna talk about?”

“The missing property.”

Then again, even if it was usually a good thing, there was no real way to tell. Michael sighed.

“I told you, sir. We don’t know who took it.”

“So you’re in the habit of letting thieves come here unannounced and take whatever they please?”

“I told you, I won’t let it happen again."

“Again isn’t good enough. If you were doing your job it wouldn’t have happened in the first place.” Pulitzer’s voice rose, just enough to make the room feel tense. “I don’t have to keep employing you, Michael.”

“Joe, you aren’t being-”

“MICHAEL SULLIVAN, DID I ASK YOU TO SPEAK?!” Pulitzer snapped, standing up.

“N-No sir.”

“So why did you do it?”

“I- I just thought you weren’t considering-” Michael caught Pulitzer’s gaze and trailed off. “I- I don’t know, Sir…”

“You-” Pulitzer paused, hearing commotion outside. He glared at Michael before drawing the curtain, revealing a bloody fight outside, nightmarish looking monsters going after the citizens. Michael gasped.

“I- I didn’t-”

“Listen to me, Michael. You listen to me carefully.” Pulitzer said in a terrifyingly calm manner, despite his clear shock. “You are going to go out there, stop that, and after that I’m cutting your pay. And if a single one of my citizens dies, instead of cutting your pay, I'll cut your neck. Understood?”

Michael was about to argue… but then a face in the crowd caught his attention. Well, half a face. A skeleton, to be more exact, with half of a familiar-looking decomposing face still attached to him, seemingly leading the attack. Michael grabbed his gun and nodded.

“Honestly, sir? You don’t even have to pay me for this. What I’ll get is enough payment.” He growled, storming out of the office and outside the building. “YOU!”

He felt the fight stop around him, everyone wondering what was going on. All but one monster- the skeleton- stopped to stare as he stepped closer, aiming his weapon.

“...Michael?”

There were gasps, mostly from the monsters, as the word left their leader’s mouth. The shocked silence didn’t last long, however, before Michael used the handle of his gun to whack him down. Everyone screamed, trying to drag them apart from each other, but Michael didn’t care. He grabbed him and ran to the roof of the world building, throwing him down onto it.

“JACK!” David yelled from the crowd.

“Is that what you’re calling yourself now?!” Michael laughed bitterly.

“Mikey, I thought you were d-”

Michael pressed the gun to Jack’s head, glaring down at him with hatred. “You don’t get to call me that anymore. Now give me one good reason why this gun shouldn’t go off.”

“Michael, this isn’t fair! What’d I do to you?!”

“You left me!” Michael choked back tears, half of hurt and half of pure rage. “You left me in that place and never came back! You killed my best friend!”

“I- well, I- wait, I didn’t kill anyone!”

“YES, YOU DID!” Michael screamed, diving at Jack. Les, who’d managed to get to the roof, tried to pull them apart. “Michael, stop!”

“Get out of here, I told you to stay with David!” Jack yelled, trying to shoo him away. He turned back to Michael. “I didn’t kill your friend! I don’t even know your friend!"

“HIS NAME WAS LES! AND YOU KILLED HIM!”

Jack froze. “...Les?”

“Michael, stop it! Please!” Les pleaded, avoiding Jack's gaze.

“Get out of here.” Michael spat, swatting the ghost away with one of his wings. “This is between me and... Jack. Or whatever he told you his name was.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Les asked. The crowd had hushed, all holding their breath to watch the fight. Jack looked down.

Michael broke down in laughter, the kind that hurt him to make. “You didn’t tell them?”

“Michael, please-”

“What’s he talking about? Jack-”

“HIS NAME IS FRANCIS!” Michael yelled.

“YOUR NAME IS FRANCIS?!” David cried.

“JACK IS YOUR BROTHER?!” Les gasped. "HE'S THE ONE WHO LEFT THE REFUGE ON TEDDY ROOSEVELT'S CAIRRAGE?!"

"Les, listen-" Jack started. But Michael cut him off.

"I'm not letting you lie to them too. You weren't some hero... or some big cowboy... you were nothing." Michael turned to the crowd, intentionally raising his voice. "YOU WERE A PETTY CRIMINAL, WHO FRAMED ME AND GOT ME ARRESTED FOR THEFT, THEN LEFT ME IN JAIL!"

For a moment, everything was quiet. Then Michael stood up. "You don’t get to just come here and ruin my life again, Francis. Not again. And you don't get to ruin their lives either.” Michael grabbed his gun and pointed it, shooting and barely missing as Jack scrambled out of the way. “I’m going to kill you, and if any of your nightmare... monster things try to stop me, I'll kill them too."

“...That’s not fair.” Les whispered.

“Life’s not fair.” Michael spat back, shooting again. “But I’m trying my best to make it that way.”

“Michael, think about this!"

"Didn't I tell you to stay out of it?!"

While Michael and Les bickered, Jack saw his opportunity. So he lunged for Michael’s tail and grabbed it, driving the stinger into Michael’s arm.

“Wh- OW!” Michael shrieked, falling back and dropping his weapon. There was a sickening crack as the stinger broke off of his tail, remaining lodged in his arm. He began to feel lightheaded, putting his non-injured arm on the ground to steady himself.

“Michael!” Les yelled, hesitantly going over to him. “Jack, why would you do that?!”

“He was shooting at me! I- Oh, god…” Jack shook his head, walking over to where his brother was on the floor and kneeling down to him. “Mikey…”

“Save it.” Michael hissed. “I don’t get it, Jack… why? Why did you leave me?”

“I was going- I…” Jack sighed. “I’m sorry, Mikey.”

“You never came back.”

“I know, I’m sorry…”

“It’s not- you didn’t-” Michael’s words slurred a bit and he lifted a shaking paw to his head. “I’m going to die, Jack.”

“No, you’re not- Scorpions only sting, they don’t…”

“The spikes on my tail are venomous.” Michael turned his arm to reveal several small spikes lodged in it. “I’m going to die… and it’s your fault.”

“No, it’s-”

“It’s your fault, again!”

“Don’t-” Jack laughed, not in a lighthearted way, but almost in a bewildered, sick way. “Don’t spin this on me. Please.”

“You left me once. Don’t act like it’ll be hard to do it now. Go ahead.” Michael gestured to the abandoned gun. “Do whatever you want to this place. Ruin it, That’s all you’re good for, isn’t it?”

“Mikey-”

“Michael.” He snapped. “My name is Michael, Francis.”

“M-Michael. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.” Michael hissed, using the last of his strength to grab Jack by his empty eye socket and fling them both off the edge of the world building.

“ARE YOU CRAZY?!” Jack shrieked.

“Maybe. And you wanna know something?! I hate that you were ever my brother.” Michael spat, just loud enough for only Jack to hear.

“Jack!” Finch yelled from the crowd, flying up to catch him. He narrowly managed, and he and Jack watched Michael plummet to the ground.

“Oh….” Jack said shakily.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” Finch reassured him, bringing them both to the ground. Jack shakily stood up, walking over to where Michael was.

“...I kind of wish you hadn’t caught me.”

David came up beside him, taking his hand. “I’m sorry, Jack…”

Jack glanced down at his brother’s lifeless body, shuddering. “So am I.”

“He’ll turn to dust soon… you won’t have to see him.” Mush offered.

“That just makes me feel worse- I’m going to be sick.”

“...What now?” Crutchie asked softly.

Jack stood up taller at that, seeming to remember that he was a leader. “Get the Newspaper cart. I’m going up there, and I will make sure that nobody in this place is left alive.”

“Jack, are you sure?”

Jack glanced back at his friends, in a gaze that communicated a thousand words, and nodded. “I am.”

-

As promised, here's some brutal pictures of Mikey's corpse happy little trees for ya

I hope yall emotionally recover quickly

[golbrocklovely]

haven't posted one of these in a while so…

here’s more of colby’s tweets from 2020.

i don’t have proof that these are his tweets, but believe me, they are his.

if it’s bold and italicized, it’s someone’s tweet to him.

if it’s in (), that’s just me commenting lol

added bonus: if they have a * next to them, that means it’s been deleted

~~~~~~~~~~~

July 3 - me and my homies have pillow fights in hotel rooms

fan: TELL ME TO GO TO BED

GO TO BED!

decided to take a walk alone in palm springs CA tonight, almost got mugged by two dudes. i’m okay and back at my hotel! PSA don’t wander off alone in a foreign area without friends.

fan: @/ColbyBrock why is your foot scarred up

had to run, i’ll explain later i promise

other fan: damn what shoes were you in or were you in no shoes

barefoot like an idiot 🤦🏻‍♂️

Cactus: 1 Colby Brock: 0

July 8 - fallin in love is so beautiful but can bring so much pain

maybe that’s why i’m so closed off

emotionally unavailable cause i’m scared to fall so deep again

fan: But the pain brings a drive unlike any other

facts

fan: Who hurt our baby🥺😠

no one .. just circumstances out of my control

July 9 - i miss japan everyone is so nice there

July 11 - new hair hi

@/mannymua733: colby in purple hair : “r u lost baby girl” me : 👁👄👁

hahahah

July 12 - life is a movie and YOU are the main character

July 13 - @/allylovesit: Miss you lol @/ColbyBrock

i miss you!

July 14 - leaving a ghost town and ended up with two flat tires. seems something didn’t want us to go so soon

July 16 - don’t settle for any less than you deserve !

manifest the person you want to be, and become them

July 17 - i love my LGBTQ fans !

(a whole month after pride? tsk tsk colby lol jk)

fan: @/AmberScholl can you and @/ColbyBrock plz do this tik-tok trend😂

@/amberscholl: @/ColbyBrock u down ??

you just wanna see me in a dress huh ;)

@/amberscholl: in my dress, specifically

July 18 - if you’re at war with yourself in your own mind, time really makes things get better.. promise.

July 21 - keep having this same dream over the course of the past 2 years. not sure what to think

July 22 - i’m in a really deep Michael Jackson phase right now and i don’t know why

stop pulling my heart strings 1D

July 23 - someone said i looked like a 19 year old uncle yesterday 💀

(what does this even mean sksksk)

i haven’t seen this much happiness on social media in a LONG time. thank you one direction.

fan: Serious question: what’s ur favorite song by them?

rock me ! or up all night

getting a big tattoo tonight

July 24 - for me and my best friend. (pics of his tattoo that's about him and sam)

July 27 - fan: i lose sleep every night knowing @/ColbyBrock hasn’t said what his favorite song from harry styles is 😪

sign of the times 🖤

July 28 - let’s forget who we are

July 30 - i miss the deep talks at 3am with someone special where you get the feeling of being high on life just from being so deep in conversation 🛸

Aug. 1 - what’s up guys it’s sam and colby

Aug. 3 - fan: I wonder if @/ColbyBrock thinks he’s hot, cute, or both👀 I’m expecting an answer sir

none of the above

we lost one of our little kitties today :/ RIP scar, you deserved a better life. hope you’re eatin all the tuna you can imagine you in heaven #trapcats

Aug. 6 - if i can, then you can too

Protect Your 🖤

Aug. 7 - i hate when people talk behind my back

Aug. 10 - tired

Aug. 13 - kingdom hearts

@/mannymua733: that's the tweet

love u

(miss colby and manny having interactions, ngl)

ever since our feral cat Scar passed away the other cats hardly show up anymore 💔

Aug. 16 - i feel like most alive when i’m the most uncomfortable

Aug. 17 - our neighbors are so scary, saw this old woman in a nightgown running around at 10pm last night not making a sound .. please SOS

*Aug. 21 - #teamcolby is back? let us know if you want a mini prank war to happen …

@/jakewebber9: i thought we left pranks behind, now u got it coming for ya buddy

guys he called me his “buddy” 🖤😱😚

Aug. 25 - just got my photo shoot pics back 👀

Aug. 27 - in the end the answer will always be and has always been love

Aug. 30 - i will never ever understand why someone would take the time to hate on another person for absolutely no reason

don't just say it, prove it. stand behind it

Sept. 1 - (posted some shirtless photoshoot pics)

@/mannymua733: seeing this photo on my timeline… (video of him closing his mouth)

lmaooo

@/DavidAlvareeezy shut up and kiss me

😗

Sept. 3 - why do i kinda like the tattoo pain

Sept. 7 - there’s some memories that no matter how hard i try, they will never leave me alone

(oh damn even i forgot this one… poor baby)

Sept. 9 - everything can feel so heavy

Sept. 13 - the old XPLR vibes are back and it feels so good 😈

Sept. 14 - always in my head

Sept. 15 - man i missed traveling so much

Sept. 16 - sometimes i don’t mind wearing a mask in public cause it hides my face

Sept. 17 - don’t forget to question everything

fan: @/ColbyBrock can you do me a favor and call me a bitch again

you’re a lil bitch

Sept. 20 - @/mannymua733: i think i need to glam @/ColbyBrock and @/SamGolbach

👀👀👀

Sept. 21 - such a beautiful day in Los Angeles i hope everyone is feeling okay !

Sept. 22 - you can’t help it if your mind changes

Sept. 24 - “Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that” -Martin Luther King Jr.

Sept. 28 - i just have no idea where i’d be without you

[btsfictional]

(1998) 8:00 am

A tall well-built man entered an alley and started walking toward a house

7:00 am(Y/n's house)

A little 5-year-old girl went running to her dad

Little y/n: Dad I made a drawing of our family

Poor little thought that her drunk dad would praise her

Y/n/d: You little piece of shit! get away from me!

Y/n started crying and went to her room while crying she didn't notice when she fall asleep

7:50 a.m.

Y/n Woke up from her dusty mattress looked around and decided to see her father

She came down running and saw her father talking with a tall well-built man

Soon the man had his fierce eyes on the little girl while she was looking at her father with her doe eyes 🥺

???:Is she the one you are talking about?

Y/n/d: Well yes she is the one

??? Walked towards

???:Hello little birdie, My name is Michael YOUR NEW OWNER!

Y/N Got scared and tried to run away but Michael caught her instantly

Y/N Started crying she started begging her father

Y/N: Appa! I-Ill be a good girl please don't do this to me I'll always l-listen to you!

Apps I'll prom-

(Y/n blacked out)

Morning 6:30

Y/n opens her eyes

She looks around

Y/n realizes that she is being tied to a pole

She started crying

Michael who was in another room torturing a guy heard her crying

Michael grabbed the guy's hair and started dragging him to the room where y/n was tied to the pole and then started torturing the guy in front of y/n

Michael: If you don't stop crying right now you would be the one next!

But y/n couldn't hear him as she could only hear the guy's screams

Michael got angry as y/n didn't stop crying at last he stopped torturing the guy and walked towards y/n

Y/n's crying got worse as she started choking on her tears

Michael took out his gun and shot the guy in front of y/n

This incident changed y/n whole life she was disturbed and distressed but the good point was she didn't fear blood anymore

She didn't fear people's pleading and screaming anymore she was now a heartless bitch

Present(2022) 8:30

A girl in the Van looking out of the window getting flashbacks from her past the rain stops in front of a house

Michael: (Sigh...) well it's the time to destroy your past from your life y/n

Y/n emotionlessly steps down from the Van and walks towards the house

Jason breaks down the door and they enter the house...

In whose house did they enter?

what is y/n's past?

what do you think?

I hope you guys like this part, I will try my best to make the story more interesting till then take care bye bye and love yourself💟💜

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[ughhheragain]

prompt 37 with john shelby, please? <3

37. “You have 5 seconds to get your hand off my ass.”

"What? I thought we were supposed to act like a couple."

Tommy had sent you along with Arthur and John to have a chat with the Italians in order to start the negociations while he could figure his shit out.

"I think it'd make it less tense if they thought y/n and I were dating," you looked at John confused, hoping that Tommy would find it as stupid as you did.

"Mh. Could be a good idea, yeah. I suppose that way they wouldn't see this dinner as serious as it really it," Tommy shrugged nonchalantly while a boyish smile appeared on John's face.

"Stop grinning like an idiot, that'll be your only opportunity to get a taste of what it's like to be with me," you scoffed, already annoyed. You quickly bumped into his shoulder on your way out, which led him to turn to Michael, who was leaning against the wall, very entertained. "Ooh, feisty is how I like her," John chuckled.

When the time came, the three of you arrived at the Garrison and were then led to the closed booth which was reserved to the Shelbys' affairs.

There, you were greeted by three Italian men, two of whose eyes widened when they landed on you. This didn't go unnoticed under John's attention, who quickly brought you closer to him with a firm grip on your hip.

"Well, finally we meet. Gentlemen, this is Arthur, my brother and y/n, his lovely woman," John couldn't help but grin proudly, even though he was aware that it was all fake.

He nodded, "Isn't she beautiful," he remarked as his eyes scanned you in one motion and that's when you felt his hand slide down your back only to land on your butt.

Aware of what was at stake at the end of this meeting, you did your best to contain yourself and not ruin it. So, you looked at John — whose cocky smile showed how much fun he was having —, smiled the men and placed your head on his shoulder and your arm went behind his back to circle it.

However, you just couldn't help but squeeze his side a bit too tight which made him jump ever so slightly.

While Arthur told them about Tommy's absence at this encounter, you jumped on the opportunity to turn your head so that only John would hear you and started whispering. "You have 5 seconds to get your hand off my ass," because of course, it was still there.

He looked down at you, "What? I thought we were supposed to act like a couple," joining your silent conversation which made him feel like a kid again.

"Well, that I know but that's not what I was thinking about when Tommy-"

"Well, shall we sit, lovebirds?" asked one of the three men who were already sitting on the booth along with Arthur, which cut off your frustration.

"Right," John sat first at the end so that he'd be in the corner, his favourite spot. He then lifted his arm in your direction and motioned you to join him and only smiled when you sat close enough so that your thigh was touching his.

Under the table, he placed his hand on your thigh but that oddly didn't feel like he was trying to annoy you.

That's when you looked at him, then who he was staring at that you understood. Indeed, the one guy that wasn't talking with Arthur or his own was trying to catch as much glimpses of you as he could which made John's blood boil.

He knew he couldn't shoot the guy — obviously — so the only thing he did to reassure himself was holding your thigh protectively.

Seeing him actually being protective made you realise that John might've actually been serious each time he was flirting with you.

You liked him too but never took him seriously because you knew how he was and how many girls he'd been seen with all across Birmingham.

Though, what you ignored but now suspected, was that they were excuses for him to stop thinking about you since you'd always denied his advances.

So, you decided to do something as to show him that he could, in fact, "have" you for real when the time will be right.

His body immediately relaxed when he felt your hand cover and slide in his before squeezing it reassuringly, making him smile softly and give you a quick wink before finally, talking with Arthur to lead the meeting.

[lowkeycasanova]

summer camp

plot: Vinnie and Y/N are camp counselors

thanks to @vhackerrs and @takecareluv for helping me out with this one!

masterlist

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

A summer camp with a bunch of little kids was the last place that anyone would find a tattooed college student. Vinnie's mom, Maria, had suggested it to him. And he laughed at the idea. But she told him that the pay was good and he'd have the nights and weekends to himself. He honestly couldn't think of anywhere else to work. Plus, it was the first place that hired him.

"Who's that?" your friend Amelie asked as she pointed into the distance. You turned to see a guy with shaggy brown hair that you've never seen before.

You shrugged. "Not sure."

All the counselors knew each other and you and Amelie have been working here for the past three years. So you would recognize a newbie.

Because Vinnie was new, he didn't know anyone and felt left out. The only person he talked to regularly was Amber, the director, despite literally sharing a room with a guy his age named Jesse. He also wasn't counting the twelve year old girls who had a crush on him. Asking where he went to school, what he did for fun, and what his social medias were.

One afternoon as Vinnie was doing a basketball activity with the kids, he was getting frustrated. He was constantly telling them to stop doing things and play by the rules. Near the end, he was kinda just letting them do their own thing because he didn't know the best way to correct them. Amber watched from afar and could tell that Vinnie was having trouble being an authoritative figure. So she had gone to you and asked if you could please take him under your wing. He didn't have a solid history of dealing with children and she knew you could help.

**

One early morning, Vinnie was by himself, setting up the area for relay races when you walked over.

"Need some help?"

Vinnie set the last flag down that marked the finish line. "Nah, I just finished. You're Y/N, right?" He wiped his forehead as it was humid outside and he was starting to sweat a little and would much rather be in bed rather than thinking ants were on him every thirty seconds.

"Yep, how's it going?"

Vinnie shrugged. "It's...going. I'm not really good at this stuff though."

"Did you have a job before this?" you asked.

"Yeah, I worked as an electrician with my dad."

Since he was finished doing what he was instructed to do, he started to walk back towards the main cabin and, to his surprise, you followed suit.

"An electrician? Really?"

"Yeah," he scratched the back of his head. "You sound shocked."

"No no no, I just didn't expect to hear that."

Vinnie stifled a laugh. "What did you expect?

"Not an electrician, that's for sure." you bumped his arm. "Is this your first time working with kids?"

He nodded, the sound of damp grass underneath your shoes.

"Can I give you some advice?"

"Please, because I feel like I'm not doing well."

"Well, first and foremost, you have to be patient with them. They are kids at the end of the day and have short attention spans and can get rowdy, but don't let yourself get stressed out. Keep it entertaining, be creative and enthusiastic. I believe it helps keep them motivated. Oh and also, try not to criticize them a lot." you explained.

"Oh yeah, I try not to do that because I'd feel really bad." Vinnie replied.

"But do show authority when needed." you pointed out. "But other than that, there's not much else left to say. The kids are great and they really like you."

His eyes flickered from the ground to you. "What?" he asked like he couldn't believe it.

You nodded. "Grace says that she likes when she's in your group and Michael said that he likes that drawings on your arm. Did they hurt by the way?"

"Um, I have a tree on the side of my ribcage, and that hurt like hell. So did the one near my v-line. And the spider on my chest."

"What do they look like?" you asked but then immediately regretted it because of how it sounded.

"Oh you wanna see 'em?" he raised his eyebrows suggestively.

"I mean...not like that but if you wanna show me-"

"Alright." He cut you off and started to lift up them hem of his shirt but you stopped him, laughing. Vinnie's lips twitched into a smile.

"No! Just finish your explanation." You said. But you were actually curious to see them as you had only seen the ones that were visible on his arms.

"Well other than that," Vinnie examined his arms. "not too painful. Looking back, it's not as bad as I thought.”

"What was your first one?" you inquired.

He pointed to his left arm to the two hands. "The Creation of Adam. I was freshly eighteen and just moved out when I got it."

As you two walk, you grab a hold to his arm to look at it and ran your thumb across it. He's surprised by your sudden touch but he doesn't pull away. He finds it comforting and he's not sure why.

Then, as you two are walking closer tot he cabin, your friend Amelie comes out and sees you with Vinnie.

"Hey, we were looking for y'all. Staff meeting is about to start."

Vinnie barely payed attention during the meeting. His mind kept wandering to his conversation with you.

**

A few hours later, Vinnie was in the grassy area, playing football with the kids. He said "fuck it" to the actual rules and they all just ran around together.

"Touchdown!!" Vinnie shouted with a big smile and threw the ball on the ground as he reached the 'end zone'.

"Not fair, you cheated." Grace laughed.

"Girl, ain't nobody cheated. You're just slow." Vinnie replied and poked her stomach.

She poked him back with turned into a game of tag between them. He pretends to be tired and catch his breath and their game attracted some of the other kids and they came at Vinnie in all directions and started to jump on him, pulling him down.

"You guys are too strong for me!" Vinnie said as they began to topple over him.

You admired the scene in front of you as you watched from the sidelines. Vinnie was a natural and they loved him.

The days went by quickly and Vinnie developed quite a few friends that made this whole experience so much better.

Jesse was his closest guy friend as they did share a room. They both liked gaming and anime so that was something that they could share.

Peter was by far the most hilarious and it was always a good time when he was around.

Maya and Jason actually go to the same school as Vinnie and they made it a point to hang out one day.

Brandon was someone that Vinnie was the least closest to. They never talked much, and when they did, Vinnie initiated conversation and was always nice, but for some reason Brandon didn't reciprocate, even though he was very talkative with everyone else.

The most significant relationship that Vinnie had with anyone was with you. You two spent a lot of time together. You showing him the ropes in certain situations and always having his back when needed. When the both of you with with your own group of kids, you'd tease each other from a distance.

**

That Friday, you had walked into the laundry room with a bucket full of towels to fold and found Vinnie doing the same, nearly running into him.

"Oof, sorry." You muttered and step aside, setting your basket on the counter. Vinnie came next to you, looking you up and down and you caught his eye.

"What?" you questioned and became a little annoyed when he started chuckling.

"Nothing." he said firmly. "I just didn't know it was twin day."

You were a little slow and it wasn't until Vinnie tugged on your sleeve when you understood.

Every counselor gets a variety of t-shirts to wear in different colors, and you could wear whichever color you wanted. But not only were you and Vinnie wearing the same color shirt, but also sported matching white shorts and shoes.

"Oh god." you groaned which made Vinnie laugh again.

You two folded the towels in comfortable silence. You watched his precise movements, taking such a simple job seriously.

You had been meaning to ask him something all week but didn't know how to bring it up in conversation. Now that it was nearing the end of the shift, you knew you needed ask now before it was way too late.

"Are you going to the lodge tonight?"

"Hmm?" he replied, having to take a second to process.

"Maya's family's lodge. She's having that get together thing tonight."

"Oh yeah, she did invite me to that and Jesse mentioned it too. But...uh, I don't know." He mumbled. Vinnie tended to keep to himself and watch tv or play video games.

Maya's family owned this resort style lodge nestled in the perfect location within the trees a few miles away. She frequently invited everyone over and it was always a good time.

"You should come." you urged. "We never see each other outside of work. It'll be fun."

You then started to feel nervous like he might turn you down, even though you weren't the one who technically invited him.

"Are you going?" he asked.

The question caught you off guard since you had already expected him to say no at this point.

"Yeah, told Peter I'd be there."

"Well if he's going, then I might go too." He teased and you just chuckled in response.

As you folded your last towel, you used that as an excuse to be done.

"Well looks like I'm finished. Hope to see you around this weekend."

“Oh yeah, see you Y/N.”

After Vinnie's conversation with you, it didn't take much convincing to get him to go. He even went to the extent of trying to pick the best outfit, settling on a plain gray tank top (that exposed way more of his tattoos than the short sleeve he was supposed to wear for work), blue jeans, and some white and blue Nikes. He walked out the house with his hair still wet from the shower.

Upon arriving, he let himself inside since the door was unlocked. He followed the sound of talking and laughter until he reached the living room/kitchen where everyone was. And he could tell he caught them by surprise.

“Vinnie!”

“What’s up Vinnie?”

“Hi Vinnie!”

They all greeted.

He actually came, you thought.

You smiled at him and waved. He came over to you first and gave you a hug as you were the closest to him. He waved to everyone else and gave Peter and Jesse those bro hugs that guys always do. The sight warmed your heart, seeing how he’s become so comfortable around everyone.

“You could’ve knocked you know.” Maya told him and playfully punched his arm.

“Knocking is overrated.” He joked. “Nice place you got here.”

He admired his surroundings. It was mostly wood, so a good use of brown. Lots of glass windows, trees around the house, and even a lake nearby with a boardwalk leading to it that you could see out the living room window.

“It’s my parents’, so I can’t take all the credit, but thanks.”

Everyone then headed over to the huge couch in the living room. Maya picked up the remote to the smart tv and started flipping through her streaming services to find something to watch.

Vinnie glanced over at you as if to say, “you coming?”. You were still at the kitchen island trying to get your drink together. You gave him a look back that said, “in a second.”

You finally walked over and saw that the space next to Vinnie was empty. With confident strides, you headed over just for Bianca to sit there instead. You couldn’t be mad, it’s not like it was a saved seat, but still. He looked over his shoulder and gave you an apologetic look.

No big deal, you just sat next to Maya, a few feet across from them. You didn’t know Bianca all that well. You didn’t see much of her at work due to the fact that she usually worked with the older kids, but you two were friendly when you saw each other.

You overhear her tell Vinnie that she’s glad he’s here and from that point on, it’s like you can’t even pay attention to what everyone else is saying because you’re so focused on the two of them.

Bianca asks Vinnie is he works out, feeling his bicep in the process. Like no shit he does.

It bothered you that she was being so flirty. If you had to guess, you would’ve thought that Vinnie didn’t really talk to her, but they obviously hung out a lot or something in order for her to be that comfortable.

You kept zoning in and out. Peter mention something about watching American Horror Story and then somehow the conversation was about ghosts, with everyone sharing anything supernatural that occurred in their life.

Perking up for the first time in a few minutes, you shared a story about when you were a kid and you heard someone calling your name in your house. Although you and your mom were the only people home and she said it wasn’t her.

Making eye contact with Vinnie, you finally got his attention, as he started listening when you began talking. His eyes were wide upon hearing your story but you shrugged it off like it was no big deal.

Bianca quickly wanted the attention back on her and she tapped Vinnie on his shoulder to get him to look at her. Slumping in your seat, you frowned as she frilled her pin straight hair over her shoulder.

She seemed to be only making conversation with Vinnie and if you were honest, it was a little rude that she didn’t make an effort to talk to anyone else. You slumped in your seat and folded your arms over your chest.

Their whole engagement made you bitter. Bitter enough to admit to yourself that yes, you had a crush on Vinnie. One bigger than you’d like to admit. Seeing them talk and flirt together made you realize that you don’t want to see him with another girl.

What you didn't know, was that Vinnie wasn't flirting back with her. He genuinely thought she was just being nice. He also kept glancing over at you to make sure that you were doing okay, after seeing the grimace on your face.

Doing your best to try to ignore them, you grabbed the remote to the tv and tried to find some music to play. Everyone was throwing song names and artists at you. You turned to Vinnie see if he had any input, but Bianca was taking a selfie with him.

A few moments later, she asked Vinnie if he wanted to go check out the lake, maybe even go for a swim.

Vinnie looked past her, out the window, to see small waves from the lake being illuminated by the moonlight. "But I don't have a swimsuit." he told her.

"Neither do I." she answered and raised her eyebrows suggestively.

He just looked at her, dead serious. "So I guess we can't go then. Not to mention that it's nighttime, prime bug time." He laid further back into the couch to get comfortable and pulled his phone out of his pocket.

Bianca looked at him with confusion until she got up from her spot. "Suit yourself then." she mumbled and walked off.

Jesse had eyed the whole interaction.

"What?" Vinnie questioned when they made eye contact. Jesse sighed in disbelief, then started laughing.

That got the attention of everyone else.

"What's so funny?" a girl named Gabby asked. "I wanna laugh too."

Jesse looked around to make sure that Bianca was out of earshot before he recapped what had just happened.

“Ain’t no way you didn’t pick up on that.”

“So embarrassing for her.”

“She definitely wanted to go skinny dipping with you.”

This was your last straw.

You shot up out of your seat, fuming but tried your best to hide it. “I’m gonna go get another drink.” You told everyone but walked off before they could answer. You make your way to the kitchen, trying to calm yourself down.

Vinnie’s worried gaze instinctively follows you and all of a sudden he can’t hear the people around him. He gets up as well a few seconds later. “Yeah, imma get one too.” He tells them.

Gripping the refrigerator door with your hand, you don’t even know what you’re looking for. Thought after thought running through your mind. Shutting the door, Vinnie’s tall frame leans against the counter and the sight of him startled you for a moment.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, his voice careful.

You folded your arms over your chest. “Why do you care?”

“Because you seem upset. I’m concerned.”

Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you said, “Because…I thought we…” then you paused. “You know what, never mind.”

You turn to walk away but he grabs your arm to stop you.

“Seriously? You were the one who wanted to hang out outside of work but I haven’t spoke to you since I got here.”

“Hmm, I wonder why that is.” You stated and looked at him directly in the eye.

He then avoided your gaze and sighed. You glanced at the others and tried to make it look like you were doing something they wouldn’t wonder what was going on.

“Look,” he started. “I wasn’t flirting with her. And if I’m honest, I didn’t even know she was flirting with me until Jesse said something. I’ve been bad at picking up stuff like that. And maybe you’re bad at picking up hints too because if you haven’t noticed…I’m kinda crazy about you.”

The way that he was looking at you with so much care made you realize that all of the thoughts about ignoring him for the reminder of your time was ridiculous. Whether you liked it or not, he had you wrapped around his finger.

“I actually thought I was reaching the signs wrong. I thought that you and Bianca had something going on.”

Vinnie shrugged. “Maybe she thinks that, but no. In fact, I was disappointed when you couldn’t sit next to me.”

“Well if it’s any consolation…I like you too.”

You hated being so cheesy.

Now that it was all explained, it made sense. He inched closer and opened his arms for you to walk into, which you did. You liked how warm he was.

“I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable.” He mumbled into your hair.

“Don’t worry about it.” You responded.

He pulled away and gave you a soft kiss on your cheek. He then pulled out two drinks from the cooler and passed on to you.

“Cheers.” He smiled and clinked his glass with yours.

You two made your way back to your friends, hoping they didn’t see any of that because you really didn’t need an earful from them. They were still having a good time, the laughter and music blended together. The boys setting up a table for beer pong. You sat down on the couch while Vinnie took his spot next to you.

[kilbygrl]

STAY ONE NIGHT, OR MAYBE ALL THE NIGHTS; jack harlow

pairing: jack harlow x fem!reader

summary: people always told you not to talk to strangers, but you can't help but going home with the blue eyed hottest guy you just met, can you?

caregory: smut!

warnings: alcohol, marijuana, smoking, tipsy sex, high sex, handjob, protected sex, slightly titty sucking and a brief mention of fingering and spanking. MINORS DNI or you'll be blocked.

WC: 4,778

n/a: first, the italic means: thoughts, that's why they're in first person. second, god, my head hurts for staring at the scream writing it. and REMEMBERING yall. my first language it's not english, so dont come for me. hope you enjoy it and REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

masterlist

For the first time in a week, maybe a month, you felt up to go out with your friends. You’re not sure if that's the correct term for courage, but according to the two shots of plain tequila you had a few minutes ago, yes, it is. Despite having left the house with the intention of enjoying a pleasant night, perhaps a little too dangerous for the fact that you had intentions to drink, you were abandoned by your best friends.

They dumped you alone in a bar after just a few beers. You actually told them it was okay for them to leave and you would leave soon after too, but guess what, you lied. You kinda wish they had stayed longer, listening to all your daily lamentations, but unfortunately not all your wishes can come true.

But you been drowning a little more in your own mind each time Michael, the bartender, brings you a fresh drink. You got into the state of overthinking. Maybe you should have stayed home, you think to yourself. If you had stayed home, you wouldn't be here right now, regretting the fact that you were alone, tipsy and a little sad. But you liked having done something for yourself. It's a good feeling. But you really enjoy seeing your friends, going out on and spending the money saved in your account on tequila. Oh, you love tequila.

“Lend me a lighter, Mike, please” A husky voice takes you away from your own thoughts.

You turn your face around, staring at the man standing next to you. You actually didn’t notice his presence until he talked, maybe you were too absorbed in your own immensity to notice anything. You can't see his face very well with the low lights, but he sits on the stool next to you. You keep watching his actions for a few more seconds until he turns towards you and his eyes meet yours. Looking away at the same second, you feel your face burn. Damn it.

You tuck the strands of your hair behind your ear, resting your hands on your chin, still staring at the nearly empty glass on the counter. Michael stops in front of you, filling it one more time and handing a lighter to the guy next to you.

“Do I know you?” the same voice from seconds ago says, but this time in your direction.

You frown, not turning to him. Calm down, is this the man talking to me? You think.

“I don't know?” you retort, moving your face slowly to look at him.

"I guess I do. You're a photographer, aren't you?" he asks right after taking a cigarette out of his pocket.

"Maybe... How do you know?" distrust is fully present in your voice.

How does a stranger know your profession? Maybe because there are so many of your works in galleries, idiot. But it doesn't explain the fact that he knows your face.

“I've been to one of your exhibitions before” he lights the cigarette “One of my friends took me there, you know Urban Wyatt?” you nod, still a little confused “He’s my best friend”

“Oh, ok. You went to the downtown art gallery show. Don't remember seeing you there” you take your hands away from your chin, now facing him completely.

His blue eyes catch your attention. Wow, he's handsome.

“I manage to go unnoticed sometimes” that’s a big lie.

He would never go unnoticed anywhere. You’re quite sure if you had ever seen his face before, even for a second, you would have remembered at least some detail. He's too flashy.

“I remember a picture of you and some other pics, which I assume you took. Your face is memorable” he says, and that’s another lie.

You feel like you’re completely boring and common. Brown eyes, not bright, with large dark circles on them, sometimes covered by makeup. Wavy hair, some blue streaks on them that makes you feel special for whatever reason, and the length just below your shoulders. Skin a little less tanned than it should be, since I live in Atlanta, and still boring. No flashy points. You don't actually think you’re ugly, but you think you look pretty normal.

“You'd be surprised if I told you how many people would say otherwise,” you laugh bitterly at your own comment.

“Your art is memorable, if I may put it that way. I've been thinking about some of your pictures for a few hours, maybe even days” he babbles, leaning against the counter.

You feel weird. You're not supposed to be talking about the depth of the photos you take with a stranger right now. In fact, you weren't even supposed to be talking to a stranger right now. Ironic.

“It's my best work.” you shrug, remembering the exhibition from two months ago.

It was perfect. Everything the way you wanted. You managed to sell all the pictures, plus the photos were your favorites. You were able to take the hallway, change the lighting, put music over the photos, write about what each one meant to you... It was a great and spectacular day.

“I can see, you're talented.” he smiles slightly and you don't know why you’re surprised that his teeth are perfectly aligned.

He's too handsome. More than you expected to find in a bar at almost one in the morning.

“Thanks,” you reply a little awkwardly.

“Jack Harlow” he says and you frown again. “My name” He holds out his hand.

“Y/N” you squeeze his hand, noticing his perfect manicured nails, “Y/L/N”

You look back at his face. He has a corner-lip smile that teases you. In fact, his whole presence incites you. After a few seconds he lets go of your hand as you continue studying his appearance. You’re a little too indiscreet and that’s because you’re a little drunk. He wears a black leather jacket over a white shirt.

"And what's an artist doing alone drinking at this hour?"  It's none of your business, you feel like saying.

"Lamenting my mediocre existence, you?" but this is what comes out of your mouth.

“I just got out of a show, actually.” he licks his lips, before swallowing his cigarette again.

You’re ecstatic for at least a thirty seconds, never taking your eyes off his extremely well-designed mouth. What the fuck is happening to me?

“Whose show?” you ask after shaking your head, pushing your thoughts away.

“My show” He shrugs, running his fingers through his curly hair.

“Oh, that explains a lot,” you reply.

It explains the fact that he is extremely hot and attractive. Singers usually do that to you. Yes, you indeed have a type.

“Explains what?” he looks a little confused, but never loses his damn cocky pose.

“Yeah… I mean, your attitude... And your looks, and this jacket it’s probably really expensive” oh, wow.  I speak too much.

"My attitude?” now he was mocking you.

Where did I get myself?

“Yeah, I can't explain… You have this overconfident attitude, not that you shouldn’t have, if I looked like you, I’d be the same” you shrug, joining in on the joke.

He lets out a laugh, which makes your spine tingle. Damn, even his laugh is hot?

“Yeah. I’m a rapper. Been in the industry for a while”

Oh, you remember talking to Urban once, because you two do the same thing, so you’ve been in the same place a few times, and he did invited you to go to a concert of his friend before, but you’re not into rap very much, so you end up never going.

“Now you saying that, I might have heard from you. But how did you end up here? Alone, I mean” you throw you hair to the side as a way of supplying the restlessness that takes over your body.

“My friends went to a party and I just really felt like going home, just stopped here so I could smoke a little bit. How about you?”

“Night out with my girlfriends, but they went home and I decided to stay” you shrug.

This time it looks like the game has turned. His eyes stare at you minutely, as if he wants to record every detail. Once again, he licks his lips as he looks straight into your soul. You feel ecstatic, like you could take thirty punches in the face and you wouldn't feel a thing.

You’re pulled out of the bubble you’ve created as your pocket vibrates over and over again. You look away from him, pulling out your phone. Messages. Y/F/N asking you if you already got home. Fuck. You check the time, almost two in the morning. If you mom knew you’re now drinking alone at two in the morning while almost flirting with a stranger, she'd probably leave Nashville just to yell at you.

“I have to go home" you cut the established silence, taking your credit card your phone case.

You hand it to Michael, who is standing a little apart from you and Jack, perhaps to give you two a little privacy to talk. As the bartender charge you, you look back at Jack. You adjust your denim jacket over your body as he continues to study your movements.

“Can I walk you outside?" he asks right after Mike hands you your card, pointing to the door.

You shrug, then nod. You get up while he says something to the bartender. You take advantage of the short time to notice the rest of his clothes. He wears black pants, with a chain hanging down and black New Balance shoes. You fix your hair and the blonde walks towards you. He straightens his clothes and the shivering sensation runs down your spine again. Jack walks you to the door of the bar and soon as both of you walk through it, you face him.

"And you... uh, are going home?” you don't know where you got so much courage to ask a stranger where he's going.

“I live right here, actually.” he nods and points to the entrance to the building next to the entrance to the bar, which makes you raise an eyebrow.

“That makes sense,” you say a little surprised.

“You live far away?” He shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Not much really” you bite your lower lip.

He makes you nervous. Not a bad nervousness, but a nice nervousness that you hadn't felt in a long time.  Fuck. You were silent for a few seconds, just staring at each other. Your connection is kind of weird.

"You... don't you want to go upstairs? We can drink some more, or smoke, I don't know...” now he bites his lower lip.

You feel like you saw him lose his composure a little for the first time. Oh, shit, here we go. You wonder over and over in just a second if you should accept the invitation. What are the pros and cons? What are the chances of you dying going to the house of a guy you just met, who by the way already knew you? But what chances you’re going to have will over to a hot guy like that again? You need to live a little. And you have Michael and other people as witnesses in case something happens. You have a cell phone with the location on, and you haven't kissed anyone in a long time. Not that you’re going to kiss him, but it's been so long since you’ve been in the presence of someone like him that just being around fills a month of all the fantasies you could ever have.

“I need sugar, do you have chocolate in your house?” and that was a question only to not accept right away. he smiles, letting you see the dimple on his checks “Then I accept the invitation”

When you realize you’re already inside his apartment, without your jacket and your sneakers, since he had taken off his, you did the same. You were briefly comfortable, but you think maybe it's a consequence of your little drinking. You’re not even tipsy anymore, but there was enough left for the courage to take over your body once and for all.

You observe every detail of the place. From how he has vinyl records to the instruments placed around the huge room. Some millimetrically placed paintings all over the room. The predominant tones are black and gray, but strong color points draw attention. Jack walks into the kitchen, which is shared with the living room, and opens the fridge. You stop on the other side of the counter and he brings you snickers.

You smile, opening the package. You study his face while you eat. He has almost unnoticeable freckles in his nose, his beard is probably freshened made, his dark blond curls are perfect. God, he’s even more handsome with this stronger light. You need to photograph him. He pulls a joint out of his pocket, lighting it up in a second. You stare at his closed eyes as he takes the cigarette in his hand, sucking in a breath. He's so hot. Jack offers it to you and you don't think twice about accepting it. You’re not an active smoker, but you do like to smoke. And there's nothing more exciting than the hottest guy in the world offering you the joint he just swallowed.

You blow smoke, which disappears through the environment. He stops, looking right at you from across the counter. You let out the breath you didn't realize you were holding and the shivers at the very beginning of your spine comes back. The cigarette alternates between his lips and yours several times, until you decide to speak.

"Do you play all these instruments?” you ruffle your hair once more, shifting it to the side.

The blonde nods, turning around and stopping beside you. His presence intimidates you in a way.

“Actually, most of them, but I’m still learning. You don’t actually need to know how to play instruments to rap” he smiles a little, biting the inside of his cheek.

“That must be true” you admit you’re completely into him now. You need to kiss him. You have a thing for pretty guys who know they are pretty and knows how to use it in a good way. Hell.

“You should go to one of my shows one of these days,” he offers and you wonder if that would be a good idea.

You feel like he's capable of giving you an orgasm just by singing on stage.

“Only as a special guest.” you smirk, biting the inside of you cheek.

“Next Saturday,” he announces and you nod, already agreeing that you will go.

Funny, you barely leave the house except for work. Silence sets in again. You feel it's your form of communication. It feels totally fine to just stare into his deep blue eyes and dilated pupils as you try to read some part of his soul. Jack brings the joint to your lips, holding it as he watches you take it. I want to scream.

You want to jump on top of him and kiss him until you’re tired of it, that could be never. Damn it. You want to pull that fucking beautiful hair, bite his delicious lips, get the damn shirt off of him. You want to draw his torso with your fingers on him and scratch every corner of his skin. You want him to read your fucking mind right now and let you do it all. Marijuana is taking over my system.

You blow smoke and he light another joint, throwing the end of the other one onto the counter. He hands it to you, making you smile a little before going back to smoking. You’re completely surprised when his hands go around your bare waist. Holy crap. You suck in air as he pulls you closer. You two are on the same line of reasoning. Jack stops with his face inches from yours, looking at your mouth. His gaze makes your legs shake.

“If I tell you that I've really wanted to kiss you since the moment I saw you sitting there at the bar, will you think I'm crazy?” he asks in a whispered tone, making you feel his hot breath on your face.

You just shake your head, you’re not in a position and you don't even have the sanity enough to say something right now. In reality you wanted to kiss him since you met his eyes. He smiles on the side, but when you think he's going to kiss you, on the mouth, you feel a kiss at the height of your ear. Your body completely shivers and your eyes close in fright. Jack grips your waist tightly, sliding his lips across your skin as his hair tickles you. He sucks part of your neck between his lips, biting it lightly. You move away from the real world, bringing the cigarette between your fingers to your mouth as you squeeze his arm with your free hand.

It causes you sensations, until then, slightly forgotten by you. You feel your whole body on fire. You can't think clearly, you just focus on what his mouth does to your neck. Jack places one of his legs between yours, propelling your body up as you control the moan that tries to escape your lips, squeezing his arm tighter. Your head spins, several times.

His fingers slip under the short shirt you’re wearing and he caresses your skin, slowly, as if he wants you to beg for more. And you’re about to beg, but you’re trying to keep your dignity. He minutely studies you bare skin under the piece of cloth, still kissing your neck. You bring your hands to his, pushing him back. You kiss his lips before he can say anything, gripping his hair tightly, discounting some of your horniness accumulated in that kiss.

You feel yourself sinking into the sweetest dream of all. It's like you’re submerged in a sea of ​​pleasure. He is currently your sea of ​​pleasure. Jack squeezes your skin tightly, pulling your closer to him. You feel wild, you’re literally kissing a stranger you met less than two hours ago. It makes everything more exciting. The danger is the gasoline and you two are the lit match.

“Room” he says the second you stop your kiss.

He grabs your waist, guiding you down the hall to the left of his apartment entrance. He opens the last door and you don't ever have time to notice the decor, your focus on his mouth again. You two have a slight dispute over who is in charge while you kiss, but you let him win. You want nothing but him inside you today. God, I want to fuck him so many times. His body is on top of yours as you two fall into bed and he kisses your cheek, chin and shoulders. As if by magic, he takes another joint out of his pocket, along with a pink lighter, and lights it up.

The blonde pulls him down as he lowers his body to your thighs. Jack rests his head on your left leg, blowing smoke in your direction. He pulls the shirt by the neck, throwing it to the floor. You hold your breath when you see his bare chest. There's no way he's the hottest guy I'll ever have sex with in my life, you think to yourself. But he is. He takes the cigarette one more time and hands it to you. You do the same, feeling his fingers on the button of your jeans. He yelps it open, pulling the zipper slowly. Torture. You throw your head back, exhaling all the smoke in your body. He pulls the fabric away from you, scraping his fingers over your skin. You run your tongue over your dry lips, letting out a sigh.

You look at him again. This time he puts his mouth on your stomach. Kissing it without any hurry. The kisses climbs, slowly, to the hem of your shirt. He smiles at you, before literally ripping the thin fabric. You didn't even get a chance to protest, he immediately brought his lips down to one of your breasts. He fucking knows what to do. His tongue swipes with all the dexterity in the world over your left nipple, tasting like you’re his favorite candy he hasn't had in years. You can't breathe, you can't.

You bring out the joint once more as he sucks your skin with pleasure. Where has he been my whole life that he hasn't had his mouth on me? You scratch the back of his head with your free hand and he changes breasts, but squeezes the other one with one of his hands. You bite your lip and close your eyes, trying to focus only on the heightened feel of his lips on your skin. Your entire body pulses.

If you looked in the mirror this morning and told yourself you'd be in a guy's bed about to have sex with him, you would laugh for at least half an hour. But here you are. Moaning and desperate for this to never end.

Jack runs his tongue along the length of your skin, stopping at your neck. He leaves a single bite on it, moving up and now facing you. His hands beside your head support him and you blow smoke in his face. The smirk returns to his lips and in the blink of an eye he flips you over on the bed, letting you stay on top. The joint is now between his lips and you sit on his lap. You can feel his dick perfectly fine under the black linen pants. He wants it as much as you want him and knowing it drives you crazy.

You smirk before lowering your face and doing what you’ve wanted to do since you first looked at his bare chest. Run your tongue over it. You do it, taking the opportunity to do the same with one of his nipples. You kiss his body until you reach his neck. Jack grips your thighs, squeezing them and pressing his body against yours. You taste his extremely soft skin, hearing him moan.

You draw his entire torso with your fingers, until you get to his pants. You pull you mouth away from him and take his pants off as quickly as possible. He sits on the bed, helping you to take it off, his fingers holding your ass and you take the opportunity to enjoy his low belly, barely marked but still apparent, which makes him even more delicious. You pull at the waistband black underwear, also taking it off. The mischievous smile on his lips fades as you wrap his cock between your fingers, moving your hand over and over again. A loud moan runs through your ears and you’re glad you hear at least half a dozen of them until his mouth is on yours. Jack tugs at your hair, kissing you in a hurry. You bite his bottom lip, as you imagined a few minutes ago. You moan along with him as we separate completely.

“I want to come when I'm inside you,” he whispers, making you stop moving quickly.

God, how I want him inside me.

And now he's on top again. His fingers quickly trace you skin, until he reaches the waistband of the red lace panties you wear. Once again, he chooses to rip and before you can complain again, he spreads your legs, running his fingers through you pussy. You don't know if he wanted to prove a point, but you were already soaking wet, maybe a little too much, for him. Jack pulls away for a second and you bite your lip as he puts his fingers in his mouth. Paradise.

He moves further away, getting out of bed. You feel the cold air coming from the open window on the other side of the room running over your bare skin, but it all fades away when he gets back on top of you, this time putting on a condom. Jack glares at you, smirking. Fuck. He positions himself in you, griding his dick along your slit, which makes moans escape your mouths. His right hand sneaks up between your breasts, leaning there. You can perfectly see his expression as he penetrates you, you can feel his fingers moving up your chest until they find your neck and squeeze it lightly. You can't control the sounds that escape your lips as he starts to move in an extremely delicious rhythm.

His moans turn you on in an unusual way. Hair falling over his forehead, sweat running down his face, muscles moving, eyes closed as he enjoys the feeling of being inside you. All this takes you out of orbit. In addition to the immeasurable pleasure, he causes you. You’ve had sex several times in your life, but you don't think you've ever had sex with anyone like that. You don't think you’ve ever been attracted to someone like that.

He thrusts his body against yours, over and over, each time squeezing his hands a little tighter around you. It's the sweetest pain you've ever felt in your life. Jack now looks you in the eye. You feel your whole body shiver. We change positions a few times and finally he lies down on the bed while you focus on sitting on him. You place your hands on his chest, specifically over his hairs the were there, that makes him look so much hotter. He squeezes the entire free expanse of your skin, occasionally slapping it. The redness starts to take over him and the moans start to get louder.

You’re almost coming, and couldn't take any longer to hold every speck of pleasure that wanted to explode in your body. You every pore was pouring out you every emotion and you wanted to cry because you were about to have the best orgasm of your life. As soon as you can't take it anymore, you let it come, little by little, moaning. Your body throbs completely. You feel your limbs tremble and give reflex spasms. In less than a minute, the same happens to Jack. You try your best to keep your eyes open and enjoy the face he makes as he comes. He's definitely the hottest guy you've ever had sex with in your life.

Your body burns completely. The cold weather in Atlanta is nothing like what you feel right now. You lie next to him, sprawling your body across the king sized bed. You sigh, sucking in air. You don't feel drunk anymore but you can still feel the weed working on you. Jack breathes loudly too, with his eyes closed. You look at his red face and get up slightly to give him a peck, which soon becomes a kiss, this time calmly.

After a few exchanged caresses, Jack goes to the bathroom while you lie there, thinking. You just had sex with a complete stranger you’ve known for less than two hours. You just finished zeroing your entire life and had the best fuck ever. For fucking god sakes.

“You want to stay?” His voice snaps you out of all your daydreams.

You turn around, facing him. Now he wears underwear, this time white. He holds another one, which makes you wonder if he really wants you to stay.

“Do you want me to stay?” you ask back, tangling myself between the sheets.

He nods, making you smile. You had sex with a stranger and now you’re going to sleep with him. Wow. As you imagined, he hands you the underwear in his hand, saying that they were new and that he would buy you new clothes later since your pants were the only thing he didn't rip. The night ended with showing you some new things he was working on and the two of us sitting around, looking out over Atlanta, smoking and telling random stories about spots in town that we could think about. You can say that you had the best night out of anyone in this entire city.

[fernweh-writes]

What about slashers with a s/o who makes them flower crowns and brings them flowers she picks from outside

Again, I’m sorry this took so long to get to. In case y’all couldn’t tell I’m behind on filling asks… also it’s late and i’m half asleep so please ignore any typos and just do your best to read through them :/

-Fern🌿

S/O Bringing Flowers

Michael Myers

Michael will act unfazed whenever you hand him flowers. If it’s just a single flower you’ve picked, he’ll stick it in his pocket for safekeeping.

If you make him a flower crown he’s not going to put it on his head. The best way to get him to wear it is to set it on his head yourself. Michael may not be the one to put it on but he’s also not going to be the one to take it off.

Of course, he never really shows that the appreciates the sentiment, but he does. Michael enjoys the fact you bring him flowers and make him little things with them because it shows that you’re thinking about him, it proves you care.

Don’t be surprised if he starts bringing you little presents and trinkets as well. You bring him little gifts all of the time, he figures you’d appreciate it if he did the same for you!

Bo Sinclair

We can love him all we want, we all know he’s an asshole. So when you bring him flowers he’s going to tease you about it. Bo may even be slightly offended, flowers are for girls, not for men.

Really Bo just doesn’t know how to handle the fact your bringing him gifts. Don’t expect him to wear the flower crown you made but he’s definitely going to keep it because you made it for him.

Instead, he takes the flower crown from you and puts it on your head sometimes. When he does this, he has a tendency to call you princess.

If you find a small pile of wilted flowers in a poorly hidden spot, it’s best to not mention it. You worked hard to bring him those pretty little flowers, it would be a shame to just toss them out.

Vincent Sinclair

Absolutely adores it! Vincent probably knows how to press flowers and does so with the flowers you bring him pretty often so that he can keep them. Sometimes he’ll use the pressed flowers to make something for you.

He’s always okay with you placing a flower crown on top of his head. Eventually, he’ll reach the point where he just ignores Bo’s teasing. But, Vincent isn’t against you telling Bo off and it’s not like Bo will do anything to you as long as Vincent is around.

He’ll enjoy making flower crowns with you. Vincent also enjoys braiding flowers into your hair. They make you look like a cute little fairy. The flower crown just really tops it all off.

Encourages you to start a little garden by the house. He hates having you wander around in the woods all day looking for flowers. You could get hurt! If you’re going at least take Lester with you to make sure you come back safely.

Brahms Heelshire

A gift? For him? Brahms is absolutely thrilled that you bring him gifts and spend time making things for him.

Brahms has read a lot of old books, many of them are romance novels as well. So he immediately connects flowers with a declaration of your love for him. In other words, to Brahms it’s the equivalent of asking for your hand in marriage.

Call him a pretty boy after placing a flower crown on his head and you’ll get to see him blush. Brahms is a sucker for praise and will do just about anything if it means you’re complimenting or praising him in any way.

Also likes seeing you wear flowers. He may not know how to make flower crowns, but, when the two of you go on walks through the garden, he likes to tuck flowers behind your hair.

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas doesn’t really care about what you give him as a gift, it’s the thought that counts after all, but he can’t help but blush whenever you bring him flowers. It’s such an innocent and sweet gesture and he eats it up.

He learned to stop caring about others opinions a long time ago. But when the two men in his family make fun of him for accepting the flowers you bring him it upsets him.

Thomas won’t focus on being upset for long though. Especially not when you give him that bright smile and look at him with so much love and adoration.

Besides, you always call him cute/handsome when he bends down to let you put flowers on his head. He convinces himself that Hoyt and Monty just don’t know what they’re talking about.

Billy Loomis

Billy doesn’t know how to handle it. He tries to play it cool but inside he’s freaking out cause you just gave him a gift. So of course, his first instinct is to be rude and pretty much just an ass about it.

He’s a guy why would he want flowers? No he’s not putting your silly little flower crown on his head! But also at the same time, yes, please bring him more flowers, he love it. Please show him that you care, he will melt.

Takes is as a hint that you want flowers and so he starts bringing you small bouquets of flowers. What do you mean he didn’t have to? Isn’t this what you’ve been hinting about these past few weeks? No, Billy they’re just presents

Stu Macher

He’s a dork and he will proudly wear the flower crown you made him. If anyone tries to make fun of him for it, he’s not phased. Also, we all watched him bully Randy, he’ll make that person regret even thinking about making fun of you or him.

Will happily make flower crowns with you if you show him how to. Then the two of you can match!

Stu also likes picking random flowers for you so when you start to do the same it just becomes a little thing between the two of you to bring each other random flowers that you’ve found. Of course, you’ll still get fancy, overpriced bouquets from him every now and then.

Asa Emory

When you bring him a random flower you plucked off one of the neighbors bushes he tells you to throw it away. He’s a neat freak, he doesn’t want petals all over his house because it wilted after less than an hour.

Don’t try to put a flower crown on his head unless you have a death wish. Asa has a reputation to uphold after all, he’s not going to let it be ruined by some flowers.

Enjoys seeing you wear flower crowns though. Asa loves having a s/o who is more feminine and enjoys dressing up and wearing more “girly” things. Seeing you in a flower crown and a cute outfit? Sign him up.

If you add flowers to his bugs containers he just falls for you even more. Seeing you care for the bugs he’s interested in makes him happy. Plus, he does enjoy the way the flowers make their small enclosures look.

Jesse Cromeans

He will gladly take the flower from you and put it in the pocket of his suit. Would even let you pin it to his suit if he deems it worthy of touching the expensive material.

Won’t wear a flower crown but loves to see you wear them. They make you look like a princess so that’s what he will be calling you anytime you’re wearing one.

Of course, Jesse happily returns the sentiment and makes sending you flowers a frequent thing since you seem to enjoy them so much. This is something he does more often on business trips to remind you that he’s still thinking about you even though he’s gone.

[storytimewithanonwriter]

Always

Tasm!Peter x Doctor! reader

Hello all! This is a request from @dracomalfoy2906

Warnings: blood, bruises, injuries, talk about infertility, curse words, Typos, and not the best writing!

“ Honey, my nephew is stopping in. He did something to his shoulder. Skateboarding. Could you take a look? He honestly is only stopping in for my peace of mind.” May popped by your office. The hospital was super slow today, but no one dared say it aloud.

“ Yeah, May, of course! When he gets here, bring him here. I’m just on call today, Catching up on paperwork .”

“ y/n, you need to take a break from this place sometime, you know?”

“ Yes, mom,” you laughed. May Parker become your work mom. She always looked out for you, ensuring you ate, took breaks, and cared for yourself.

“ I’m serious! Anyway, I will send Peter to see you when he gets here.”

About thirty minutes later, you heard a knock at the door. You looked up to find a beautiful brown eye, brown fluffy-haired man. This must be Peter. May had told you so much about him; you kind of felt like you knew him already.

“ Dr. Y/L/N? I’m Peter May’s nephew. “

“ Hey, Peter, come in and sit. And please call me Y/N.” You smiled

“ Oh, ok. Thank you. I’m honestly not that hurt, but May..”

“ She worries a lot, I know. She is like my mom here at work. “

He laughed. “ Sound like May.”As you examined Peter’s shoulder., he started to hiss in pain.

“ Well, Peter, you banged your shoulder up pretty good. But I’m sure ice and ibuprofen should do the trick. “

“ that’s what I told Aunt May !”

“ Well, it is still a good idea to get checked out. What were you doing anyway? May said skateboarding? “

“ Yeah, I have been skateboarding since I was a little kid. When I get free time, I try to go out skating .”

“ Nice, I was never good. But my brother was great! I saw some pretty bad injuries … sometimes I think that’s when I became interested in medicine.” You laughed. Peter was so easy to talk to.

“ That’s crazy! Did you grow up around here? Maybe I skated with him? “

“ Yeah, we did. His name is Michael. He went by Mikey as a teen… he used to skate at ….”

“ The skatepark down by the River? “

“ yep! That would be my big brother!”

“ wow, Mikey’s little sister… small world.”

“ Yeah, small world,” you smiled. “Well, Peter, now you know where my office is, so if you ever need anything..”

“ Yeah, cool. Thanks again, y/n. Maybe I will see you soon? Hopefully not be injured. “He smiled as he left.

You quickly called Mike.

“ Mike!! “

“ Sis, how are you?”

“ I’m good... I just had someone you know come into my office… Peter Parker ?”

“ I haven’t heard that name in years! We used to skateboard together. Nice guy!”

“ Yeah, he really is”….

…

May had a plan. She knew how perfect you were for Peter and how perfect Peter was for you. Step one of her plan had worked; now, step two was thank-you dinner at her place.

“ Y/N!! I wanted to thank you again for checking Peter out. “

“ It was really nothing. “

“ well, Peter is my boy, so it meant everything to me! How about you come to dinner at my place Saturday at 7? You are off and not on call… I already checked. “

You laughed at May. “ ok, ok, May! I will bring the wine! “

She smiled as you walked off. Taking out her phone, May sent a quick text to Peter.

Dinner at 7 pm on Saturday. Do not be late. Bring flowers. Y/n is coming.

Match Maker May was in business.

…

Saturday came quickly. You were exhausted from your week. Generally, on a free Saturday, you would spend it alone with an excellent book, but May Parker was like your mom. You could not turn down the invite.

Arriving at the address, you knocked. You waited and hummed a tune. The door opens up to reveal Peter.

“ Hey, Peter! Nice to see you again! “

“ It’s good to see you! Come in!”

As you walked in, you took in the house. It was so homie. You saw pictures of Peter when he was small and smiled. You were about to say something when you saw May walk down the stairs.

“ Hello, Honey! I’m so glad you made it. I’m so sorry, but I’m going to have to head in. Gladys called in sick, and Marie is out with the baby. I already cooked. You and Peter should stay and have dinner.”

May Parker was a genius.

“ oh, ok”

“Bye, you two have fun! “ May headed out

“ so, Peter, what do you do for work?”

“ oh, I am a research scientist at OSCORP. I also do some freelance photography for The Bugle.”

“ that’s amazing! A man of science . “ you giggled “ I would love to see your photos!”

“ Yeah, sure. I have some of my old stuff in my room here. I mean, it's stuff from High school ..”

“ Ooo! A time capsule of Peter Parker’s life! I’m intrigued now !”

Peter laughed. “Well, let’s eat before the food gets cold.”

You followed Peter into the dining room.

“ Daisies! My favorite. “ you smiled

Peter smiled at your excitement.

Peter was already falling for you. And you were falling for him. This dinner would be the first of many you and Peter had. After dinner number five, Peter asked you to be his girlfriend. It was a match made in heaven.

…

Month three is when you find out about Peter’s secret identity. He landed on your fire escape, blood and bruised. Hearing the thud, you quickly made your way to find New York’s web-slinger passed out at your window.

“ umm… uh … Mr.Spider-Man, I’m Y/n… can you hear me? No? Oh, ok. Umm...I am a doctor, so I'm going to check your injuries.”

Spider-Man didn’t move. You assessed the damage.

“Oh, shit,” he needed so many stitches. So, you proceed to drag him inside. You weren’t going to take off his mask, but the laceration on his chin needed a closer look. You rolled up the mask to the edge of his nose. Spider-Man began to stir, and his mask rolled past his nose, revealing someone you knew very well. You gasped.

“ Pete “

“ Y/N,” Peter croaked

“ Yeah, you are ok. I have got you.” You continue to work on Peter. Whatever he got himself into was not great.

“ I’m ….sorry you …had to find …out this way. I needed help.” He was becoming more and more alert.

“Petey, don’t worry. I’ve got you. Always. …I kinda figured something was up. You had way too many “ skateboarding” injuries. My money was on underground fight club, not Spider-Man.”

Peter laughed, “ ouch.”

“Take it easy, Tiger. “

….

Month 6 is when you moved in with Peter. Everyone said it was early, but it just felt right. You still kept your place for nights you were on call ( it was closer to the hospital), but you loved the shared space with Peter. At this point, Peter had met everyone in your family. They loved him. Your sister, Emily, and brother were over the moon that their baby sister found such a great guy. Mike was excited to reconnect with an old friend. Your friends with we're ecstatic as well

“ I'm so excited! You know Matt wanted me to set you up with his brother at the wedding. As if!! I love you too much! You would be a great sister-in-law, but... Nic is... Well, Nic.” Was Steph’s response when you told her you needed to add a plus one to her wedding. Stephanie was one of your best friends. Your moms had been friends since you two were in diapers. You just clicked. So it was no question you were a bridesmaid.

The wedding was beautiful. Your sister's kids stole the show. Sage was the cutest flower girl, and Ryder was the best ring bearer. After the ceremony, you were tasked with rounding up the kiddos for the photos. You rounded the corner to hear giggling.

“ No! Peter, Sage is three, and I’m 6.”

“ Are you sure? I think Miss Sage looks a little older than you?”

Ryder busted out laughing! “ you are silly, Peter. “

“ What are you three up to?”

“ Auntie! Tell Peter that I’m the oldest, not Sage !”

“ I will. Buddy, come on, you have to get your photo taken with Aunt Steph!”

“ Ok, can Peter come?”

“Of course!” You smiled. It made your heart swell how much Ryder warmed up to Peter.

The rest of the night, Ryder and Sage never left Peter’s side. They danced, laughed, and played the night away.

“ He is gonna make a great father one day.” You overheard one of the other bridesmaids say. Your heart sank. During your whirlwind of a romance, you and Peter never brought up kids. You knew you couldn’t have kids of your own. Fertility issues ran in the family, so when you turned 25, you had a test run. When the results came back, you were devastated. The diagnosis was something you had come to terms with over the years. ( even though it did make it any easier) How could you forget to tell Peter?

…

The day after the wedding was rough. You ended up at May’s after the wedding. Her place was much closer than yours and Peter’s. You were hungover, but May made breakfast, so you got up and trotted down the stairs.

“ Good Morning, y/n.”

May sang.

“ morning May” you smiled

“ morning, bug” Peter gave you a peck on the cheek

“ Peter was telling me all about the wedding last night. It sounds like a good time! “

“ It really was. It was beautiful.”

“ I heard you caught the bouquet.”

“ yeah, I’m pretty sure Steph planned it. I’m not in a hurry,” you said, looking at peter smiling back at you.

“ Peter said he met your niece and nephew. Sage and Ryder ?”

“ I was telling May about Ryder trying to crowd surf and how he ended up falling asleep on me. And how Sage kept making me twirl her around. She was adorable.”

“ yeah, They loved you.”

“ Peter is always so great with kiddos! I can’t wait to hear the pitter-patter of little feet in this house again. Peter always said he wanted a big family. One day soon, hopefully.” May smiled

You froze. Not only were you going to break Peter’s heart now, but you were also going to break May's heart as well. Finally, you gave may a slight grin. You looked over to Peter. He was in his own world. He didn’t hear what she said. There was a siren going off. He was trying to see if he needed to slip away.

“ I’m going to head back up to bed. I’m not feeling great. Too much wine last night. “ you excused yourself

“ ok, honey. “ May said with a smile.

“ love, I will be up soon. We can head home, alright? “

You have a quick nod, and you walk away, trying to hide your tears.

…

Month 7 is when you ran. You made it home from May’s and headed straight to the bedroom. Peter followed

“ love bug, what’s wrong? You are so quiet. “

“ Nothing, I just am tired, that’s all.”

“you know you can tell me anything, right? Did I do something? I just feel like you..”

“ No, Peter. I’m fine .” You were not OK. You were panicking. You couldn’t stay with Peter knowing that he wants to have kids and you can't give him them.

“ ok, I’m going to go one patrol early since I didn’t go last night. When I get back movie night?”

“ Sounds great,” you said, knowing that you would be long gone when he returned.

“ Ok, good!! “ he turned to leave but turned back to kiss you quickly. “ I love you.”

“I love you too, Peter. “

That night when he returned all, he found a simple note on the counter.

Peter,

I’m sorry. It's for your own good. I love you...

Yours forever,

Bug

He tried to call you. You had already blocked his number. He went to your apartment. You left a note there as well.

Pete,

Please, don't try to find me. Know that I love you always.

Yours,

Bug

Peter screamed in frustration. He didn’t understand. He knew you were upset. That is why he went on patrol. He thought you needed space. He wanted to give you that space; he didn’t know you would run away.

He called everyone in your family, and no one knew anything.

He called Steph to see what she knew.

“ Peter, she isn't with me. I don't know what is going on.”

“ Steph, I know you are lying...She tells you everything. Where is she? What happened?”

“ Peter, just let it go. Let her…”

“ I ALREADY LOST THE LOVE OF MY LIFE ONCE… I can’t do it again. Please, Steph .”

“ I’m sorry.”

Steph hung up quickly. The phone was on speaker, and you heard everything.

“ I … I … “ you broke down in her arms.

“ it’s ok, love…. But I think you should talk to him. You didn’t even tell him anything … you just ran. You don’t know how he would respond. He could…”

“ No, Steph. I can’t let him give up on his dream because of me. I can’t give him what he wants .”

“ just… take some time to think.

And that’s what you did.

...

It had been four months since you left. Peter never stopped looking for you. You literally disappeared. You moved jobs and found a new place to live on the other side of the city, where you thought you wouldn’t run into Peter. But Peter was determined to see you. He just didn’t know where to look anymore. He became more and more distracted by the idea of finding you. One day on patrol, Peter was on the opposite side of the city than usual. He got a lead on a weapons trade. Then he thought he saw you. Swinging faster and faster, he missed judging his landing and took a tumble into a wall. He felt his wrist snap.

“Fuck!” He hissed as he looked at his wrist.

This was something he couldn’t fix himself. He would heal fast, but he still needed medical attention. He quickly changed into his street clothes and headed to the hospital closest to where he hid his backpack.

He was sitting in the room waiting to be seen. His eyes lit up as the door opened. You were there. You find Peter staring at you when you look up from the chart. You gasp and try to keep your professional manner. But the tears were starting to form.

“Peter... I umm... “ you cleared your throat and quickly gathered yourself.

“ Mr. Parker, what seems to be the problem?”

“ Well, Dr. Y/l/n. I have a broken heart. I didn’t know that there was a problem. I didn’t think anything was wrong, and I came home, and she was gone....Y/n what happened?”

“ not here, Peter. Let's get you fixed, ok?”

“My broken heart or my broken wrist? “

“Peter.”

For the rest of the visit, you were both quiet. You place a cast on his wrist. He would only need the cast a day or two with his accelerated healing.

“ Alright, you are all set.... “

Peter got up to leave, but you stopped him.

“Peter, I'm going on lunch in ten. Meet me outside on the bench near the fountain? “

“ Ok.”

...

You didn't expect to see Peter in your hospital. Honestly, we're not expecting to see him ever again. You had written a long letter explaining everything and planned to send it. When you saw him again, you felt the need for closure. You needed it, and he needed it. That's why you invited him to lunch.

You found Peter sitting on the bench staring at the fountain.

“ This is my favorite spot. I come here to clear my head a lot.”

“ I see why. It's very nice.”

“ How are you?”

“ Well, I have spent the past four months trying to find the love of my life. She ran away and only left a note. Kinda fucks with someone, ya know ?” Peter didn't sound mad. He sounded hurt. You hurt him. You left to protect him, not hurt him.

“ I'm sorry. I did what I thought was the best thing for you. I couldn't help at...”

“ Did you ever think to ask me what I thought was the best for me? I didn't even get a choice. You left and went no contact.”

“ Petey, I'm so...”

“ Why did you do it?”

“ It was for your own good. I could not give you the life you want, and I left because you deserve...”

“ my own good? Y/n, my life was dull until I met you. The life I want is with you. I want to grow old with you. I want to have kids with you. I want to...”

“ JUST STOP, PETER! Stop! ... I can't give you that life. That is why I left !”

“I don't understand! I thought we were on the same page. I loved you. I still fucking love you.”

You were crying.

“ I love you too… I just ..”

“ Then why did you run? “

“ I was scared. Ok, Peter! I was scared, so I fucking ran.”

“Scared? Scared of what?”

“ When I saw you with my niece and nephew at Steph’s wedding, I couldn’t help to think of how wonderful you would be as a father. Then, we went to May’s, and you talked and talked about Sage and Ryder. You were so happy. You were off in your thoughts when May mentioned that you always wanted a big family. I … I was scared that when you found out I can’t have children of my own, I wouldn’t be enough. So, I ran. I ran because I love you. And I know you. I know that you would give up on that dream for me… and ….I can't let you do that .”

You sat staring at the fountain crying. Peter didn't say anything. It felt like hours until he finally spoke up. You didn't notice he was crying until he reached over and grabbed your hand. You looked up at him.

“ Bug, You will always be enough. I'm sorry you felt that way. I would never... I love you. And yes, I want a big family, but there are so many other ways to have a family. Fostering, adopting, surrogates, dogs, cats, lizards … “ you both laughed “ well, maybe not lizards… I don���t have the best track record with them …. But, even if you looked at me and said I don’t want children, I would be right by your side because I love you, y/n. I will always love you.”

You were sobbing. Why did you let fear lead your actions? You lost four months with the person you love because you were afraid. But, now starring a Peter, you wonder why you ever worried.

“ I love you too. I’m so sorry… I ran. I didn’t know what you would think I ….”

“ It’s ok, My love.” He leaned over and kissed you so gently.

“ I missed that,” you smiled.

“ I missed you more. When do you get off?”

“ I… ugh… I’m technically off now. I told them that my last patient turned out to be my fiancée, so I needed to deal with his stupidity….”

“ you lied to your new boss….”

“I didn’t know how this was going to go!! I may have needed the rest of the day off to cry more….”

“ Oh, how I have missed you so much. Let’s go home, love.”

You smiled and headed back to the place your heart never left.

[melis-writes]

Moth to Flame [Michael Corleone x Reader series, 18+ Smut] Oneshot – Omertà.

Read on AO3 / Chapter Masterlist. / Fic Playlist.

Oneshot based in 1956, during the attempted assassination on Michael and Victoria Corleone.

"You’re delusional living in your head with all these fantasies of Victoria." / "She answered all of my questions about you with one word, you know that? Omertà."

With bullets flying over you and Michael during an attempt on your lives, the worst night of your life takes a turn for the worst as Michael's long time enemy and rival–Alphonse Ricci–forcefully has you kidnapped and held for more than just a ransom as his backup plan. Under pressure and suspicion of who betrayed the two of you, every move Michael makes in tracking your location down and bringing you back home safely is critical. With enough blackmail to ruin your life and career, Alphonse demands answers and isn't a patient man, using threats, intimidation tactics and sadism to get you to talk. Time is running out with your life on the line as you realize just what Alphonse's grand plans are for not just your future, but that of your entire family's.

[WARNINGS]: Heavy & explicit violence / Gunfire & firearm use / Depictions & themes of kidnapping/hostage situation / Ransoming / Graphic depictions of assault & battery / Character deaths / Graphic depictions of injuries & blood / Sexual harassment [groping/kissing] / Sedative usage / Sexual assault [groping, kissing] / Knife wounds / Biting / Explicit depictions of death.

[AUTHOR'S NOTE]: The highly anticipated, next oneshot is finally here!! 😅 Thank you to the anon who requested this action packed oneshot! I hope I've done it justice with 100+ pages of thrilling content from start to finish for you guys! 👀 We see Michael in action, angst, hurt/comfort, a sneak peek of Connie and Leonardo's marriage, more quality time spent with the twins, how Michael handles the stress and pressure of Victoria's ransom and a short lived, but full out mob war too. There's a lot to tackle in this oneshot! 🙏🏻 Because of its explicit/graphic manner, please don't forget to read the warnings above! ❤

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.

[ Night of the attempted assassination at Lake Tahoe, 1956 ]

“Victoria!” Connie shouts out at you—her voice shaky with tears as she hugs her two sons close to her. “Where the hell are you going?! Sure as hell not out there—”

“Connie, it’s fine!” You shake your head, pulling open the French doors to exit the drawing room. “This isn’t the first goddamn time bullets have flown over my head before!”

“Are you insane?!” Connie hisses at you, “you know it’s not safe! Are you trying to get yourself killed after what Michael told us?!”

“Just stay put and with mama!” You point at Connie, then back at your mother weakly laying on the couch with Sandra by her side—ensuring her fresh bandages are on tight enough to stop the bleeding. “I need to find my brothers and Michael.”

“You’re insane, I swear!” Connie calls out behind you as you’re quick to storm out of the room and towards the study at the opposite end of the central family estate where your mother was hit.

“If Michael finds out—VICTORIA!” You can still hear Connie yelling out your name behind you but ultimately ignore her, knowing you’ve never been and never will be cowering back and waiting for others to finish the job.

Barefoot and keeping your steps slow and silent, you keep your eyes focused on all sides of your surroundings. 

You continue to move towards the other side of the compound by getting closer to the study, realizing just how eerily quiet it’s grown on this side of the estate then suddenly being able to see the walls surrounding the study up ahead blown off in small chunks and riddled with bullet holes.

Moving through the study, you press your back against any solid wall you approach to avoid being detected out of the shattered windows now flashing over with lights from security outside.

Like a shadow, you slip out the back door of the central family estate—slipping on a pair of your kitten heels you left outside—and move towards you and Michael’s estate—just towards the front of your bedroom window where the first shots were fired.

Keeping yourself hidden in the shadows and away from any source of light, you can already make out three heavily armed guards of Michael’s lingering both inside and outside of your bedroom, checking around for any further evidence and safety compromises.

‘What the hell?’ You furrow your brows, knowing that the two bullets you fired off didn’t just go into the air and disappear, let alone reflect off of the walls of the estate, a tree, or anything similar. You heard it hit someone, not something.

Continuing to stay out of sight of Michael’s men, you take another look at the shattered windows of your bedroom from a different angle, stepping back.

You can hear Al Neri, Rocco, and their men yelling overheard, guard dogs barking and the footsteps of security roaming hastily all over the compound which easily masks out any sound you could make.

‘If I had shot more towards the right, then I would have to stand here…’ You move back further, estimating the spot you assumed your bullet must have got to before your eyes land on a small pool of blood not far from where you remain.

‘My bullet didn’t fail me.’ A slight sense of relief washes over you as you begin to carefully track the little droplets of blood that lead a pathway outward to the drains.

It already strikes you that the drains are a perfect hiding spot as they’re almost always ignored by just about everyone except for the compound’s weekly cleaning services and after sundown from a lack of any light source natural or artificial, it remains almost pitch black inside and surrounding the outside.

‘I must have hit his lower body. His side, or perhaps his thigh?’ Normally as you’d assume, if someone got immediate medical attention or at least didn’t run around and move frantically, they wouldn’t bleed this much but clearly the assassins were in an obvious rush towards the drains and nowhere else.

You’re just about to follow the rest of the blood trail when you hear two sets of unfamiliar footsteps beginning to rush towards you.

Having spotted you the moment you made your way towards the blood trail, lurking in the shadows and analyzing your every step, Alphonse Ricci’s assassins hastily approach you to ambush you from behind.

Let into the compound from an inside betrayal of the family—a thought already in Michael’s mind but without certainty to pin the blame on Frank Pentangelli, Hyman Roth, Johnny Ola, or all three—you barely have any time to react to the sudden attack, just as planned.

Overpowered by the two men grabbing you from both sides knowing that if you were out here vulnerable and alone outside, it’d be the only chance they’d get. 

Had Michael been in your exact position without men and away from any source of light, he would have been shot dead on sight, as per the men’s orders said.

While remaining in the darkness to avoid a lecture from Michael’s men or Michael himself that you’d never hear the end of, now the assassins grabbing you from behind by your neck and clasping a leather gloved hand over your mouth to stifle your screams are now used to their advantage instead.

Before you can fire the pistol you’ve already been able to grab out from the pocket of your nightgown, the guard who now grips your throat roughly pistol whips you over the side of the head with his own gun.

As a direct order from Alphonse wanting to have you subdued and taken quietly if all else fails—which it has—the assassins don’t have the intention to hurt you badly or leave a mark, but that’d have to wait until you’d stir from consciousness.

In that split second where the pistol is just about to collide with your temple, you’ve surprised both the assassins and yourself in a way by aimlessly firing your pistol straight into the stomach of the other assassin standing in front of you.

Hit at such a close range that the barrel of your pistol burns into the stomach of the assassin while you stumble back and crumple into the arms of the other, passing out. 

The last thing you remember seeing is a dark figure in a three-piece, full black suit and a fedora tilted over his head to mask half of his facial features—the same man you’re not entirely aware you just shot.

Immense pressure and sharp feeling hit your forehead before you almost instantly lose consciousness before everything goes pitch black. 

A trickle of blood drips down your temple and you’re knocked out cold before you can hear the second assassin you shot writhe in pain—forcing himself to stay quiet almost enough to bite his own tongue off.

“Shit!” The first assassin hisses, holding your limp body tightly in his arms. “What the fuck just happened?”

“Little bitch shot me,” the second assassin grunts, immediately applying pressure to his gunshot wound.

“Fuck, look—we’ll get that taken care of as soon as we can get the fuck out of here.” The first assassin gestures back with his thumb. “The faster you do this with me, the sooner it’s all over. Man the fuck up, for now, we’ve got a job to do.”

“You wouldn’t even be able to walk if it was you, asshole.” The second assassin mutters in pain, following the first assassin scooping you up bridal style in his arms.

The assassins continue making their way through every inch of darkness and shadow they can find on the compound before carrying you into the sewer exit. 

The betrayer had of course told the men whether it was deliberate or not that the sewers and the drains were not only an ideal hiding spot nobody cared much about, but it’s also filthy from top to bottom.

Alphonse strictly ordered there not to be a speck of dirt or any unnecessary injury done to you if it could be helped and even then, there’d be absolute hell to pay for orders not followed down to every letter.

The assassin carrying you remembers being yelled at well, but also thinking about the rest of his pay and making sure while he walks into the drains with the second assassin limping behind him that he’d rather be covered in mud, guck, and shit for a million dollars than get a tiny drop even on the trim of your silk nightgown.

“Fuck,” the second assassin grunts, slowly down and barely being able to pull himself into the drains. “This fucking hurts. Do you have to move so goddamn fast?”

“You’re fucking slowing me down, man, that’s what you’re doing.” The first assassin narrows his eyes. “I’m getting the fuck out of here with her one way or another, you know how this works.”

“F-fuck you.” Giving up entirely from the weakness the second assassin feels hitting every inch of his body from blood loss, the man trips down into the sewer and rolls onto his back.

The first assassin barely looks back over his shoulder at his partner in crime, continuing to carry you through the sewers and out back the way he came—knowing Rocco won’t be there to stop him from getting you into a car and out of Lake Tahoe.

Rushing towards the drains if anything had made the blood loss worse over a mere few minutes, the second assassin had that sense of hope in thinking he’d just make it is now replaced with the prospect of death which would normally strike fear in his heart as he lays in murky, filth filled waters. 

Assassinations were easy jobs for experienced mobsters—buttonmen, capos, or otherwise—but the concept of near-guaranteed death was practically branded on their foreheads when they were told they’d be paid a million dollars each by Alphonse Ricci for assassinating you and Michael Corleone. 

The second assassin knew he’d either die a miserably painful albeit short death or go home a rich man and as the first assassin quickly pulls open the car door out back in the forest and secures you next to him in the back seat, all the first assassin can think of is how and when his corpse is going to be discovered.

“What happened back there? You got her?!” The driver clutches onto the steering wheel tightly, looking to the backseat.

“Yeah.” The second assassin pants, out of breath as he carefully lays you down on the leather seats. “Just Victoria Corleone, her husband’s not dead—he’s not even hurt.”

The driver immediately starts up the car, looking around him frantically. “Shit, shit, shit, where’s—” 

“He’s probably fuckin’ dead, just drive!” The second assassin shouts, referring to his partner assassin now bleeding to death in the sewers. “He barely got through the goddamn drains with me, now he’s drowning in shit.”

‘Nevada license plate…’ One of Al Neri’s men hunched over by the bushes sees the license plate of the car that’s driving you away just by the last moment—too far to shoot at the tires from but still left with crucial information.

What the buttonman doesn’t know from the time he was able to slip out towards the back of the woods when he made out the shape of a vehicle is that Michael Corleone’s wife is being kidnapped and taken inside of it.

“If there’s a mark on her, the boss is gonna fucking kill you.” The driver warns, picking up speed through the dirt pathway leading out of Lake Tahoe. “You knocked her out, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” The assassin rolls his eyes, glancing at the dried-up blood on your temple. “I had to pistolwhip her, I had no other choice.”

“Was that before or after Jimmy randomly fucking died in the sewers?” The driver scowls, making eye contact from the rear-view mirror. 

“Yeah, he got randomly fucking shot straight in the stomach by this bitch!” The assassin exclaims. “Had that tiny fucking pistol in her hands before we could see it.”

“The boss told us.” The driver attempts to calm his shaky breathing, driving faster. “She’s fucking dangerous and you need to treat her as such. We need to keep her incapacitated until we get back—no fucking exceptions.”

“I made sure she dropped that fucking pistol of hers back there, she’s not gonna pull that shit on us again.” The assassin reaffirms.

“It doesn’t fucking matter, man.” The driver shakes his head. “Armed or not, Victoria Corleone will scratch your fucking eyes out with her own nails if she gets the opportunity to. Do you seriously not know what the fuck we just did? Who we’re fucking with?”

“Yeah, I know what we just did.” The assassin attempts to relax his tense muscles against the leather car seats. “We became fucking millionaires, that’s what. So the job got a little dirty, better someone else kiss the dirt than me. Look at her now,” he gestures to your body. “Sleeping peacefully, still breathing, just fine.”

“Wipe that blood off her forehead at least.” The driver sighs. “I’m not gonna think about that money until I know I’m still alive by the time we get back to the boss.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Ruin your own fun.” The assassin reaches into the inner pocket of his suit jacket, pulling out a handkerchief and gently dabbing it over your temple to wipe as much blood off as he can. “We got in, we got the broad, we’re out. Now when we get back, have a fucking drink to calm your nerves, and then start counting your share of the bread. You’ll feel better, trust me.”

Connie, Sandra, and Esther remain in the drawing room as Michael asked, comforting the children and frequently checking on your mother who attempts to relax against the couch in a position that won’t press on her gunshot wound.

It’s only ten minutes later that everyone inside the compound’s estates begins to realize the noise of Michael’s men and guard dogs outside has started to grow quiet and is now replaced with the faint sirens of an ambulance approaching and Michael’s footsteps.

Connie tucks her boys in on the couches nearest to her with any blankets she can find in the drawing room, sitting on the carpet next to them and attempting to calm down.

While Esther and Ludovica seem relieved to hear the ambulance approaching the estate, Connie’s anxiety only grows further neither seeing nor hearing any sign of you since you rushed off.

Connie sniffles and wipes her tears off onto her blouse, watching as Ludovica is carefully laid onto a stretcher and taken out of the drawing room with Esther and a security guard following behind.

“Yes, Don Giuseppe will follow shortly…” Connie hears one of Michael’s buttonmen murmur but is unable to pinpoint who he’s notifying.

Sandra wipes the stray tears out of the corners of her eyes, sitting on the very edge of the couch Ludovica was laying on and remaining quiet.

Just before Connie can speak out to her, she hears another pair of footsteps growing closer and easily recognizes they belong to Michael, but Connie doesn’t hear yours following his.

The doorknob to the drawing room twists and Michael pushes open the door, stepping inside with some sort of expectation over his expression before it grows stone cold almost instantly.

Sandra immediately darts her gaze down, avoiding looking at Michael entirely as if she has something to be guilty for, but with the way Michael’s already realized you’re not in the drawing room as you were told to be, he now locks his eyes with Connie directly.

“Michael,” Connie whimpers, raising up her hand to him.

“Where is she, Connie?” Michael asks once, calmly. “Where’s Victoria?”

“I don’t know.” Connie swallows hard. “Michael, please.”

“Connie.” Michael’s tone of voice grows sterner. “I’m not going to ask you again. Give me a straight answer, now.”

“She said something about finding you and your brothers!” Connie bursts out into sobs again. “That’s all I know, I swear!”

“And you just let her leave?!” Michael glares, raising his voice so sharply that it causes Sandra to flinch. “What did I tell you?”

“I know, I know!” Connie protests, shaking her head. “I told her not to go, I tried to stop her but she wouldn’t have any of it! She just up and left!”

“And the two of you just sat here.” Michael points his finger back and forth at a sniffling Sandra and crying Connie. “Waited for her to come back the entire time, yes?”

“What else could we have done, Michael?” Sandra speaks out in a shaky tone. “Go out there and look for her while it’s dangerous?”

“We had no choice but to wait for her.” Connie’s voice cracks. “I’ve been dying just sitting here and waiting.”

“Don’t wait.” Michael loosens his tie, letting out a loud sigh. “She’s gone.”

“What?” Both Sandra and Connie say at the same time with wide eyes. 

“Gone, she’s gone,” Michael says through gritted teeth. “My men and I combed the entire compound in and out—she’s GONE.”

“But Al and Rocco—” Connie begins.

Michael interrupts his sister. “What do you think Neri and Rocco were doing the past ten minutes? There isn’t a trace of her here unless one of you isn’t admitting to something?”

“Don’t be r-ridiculous.” Connie whimpers through her tears. “All she said was that she was going to find you and h-her brothers. Why would she leave the compound?”

“Rocco’s outside the compound searching the entire vicinity with his men and the dogs for anything—bodies included.” Michael glares at Connie and Sandra. “At this point, both of you can consider your sister-in-law missing.”

“Stop!” Sandra cries out, “you’re not implying—”

“Victoria DID NOT disappear into thin air, Sandra!” Michael yells at her, seething with anger. “Either she was taken out of the compound or went out of herself and is dead, do you understand me? If this is such a hard reality for either of you to grasp, start blaming yourselves as to why you didn’t stop her or call out for one of my men too.”

“She’s not dead, she can’t be!” Connie sobs louder as her sons peek out from under their blankets fearfully—having never seen their Uncle Michael this visibly pissed and stressed in their lives.

“I don’t want to tell my children we found their mother’s body outside of the compound.” Michael hisses, pulling open the door again. “And believe me, if I do, I’m willing to blame some of the people in this room.” 

Outside by the blood trail belonging to one of the first assassins you shot, Al Neri crouches down to carefully examine the blood over the cobblestone path with a flashlight.

In his other hand, Neri clutches a tattered piece of silk cloth belonging to your nightgown, half stained with a muddy footprint from the men who overpowered you. 

Unable to see any blood or otherwise on the nightgown but not entirely sure who the blood trail belongs to, Neri stands back and gestures to one of his men around him. “Stay here, keep the lights on the blood trail and keep the area clean. I’m going to get the Don.”

“When you don’t do as I say, Connie,” Michael pulls open the door, scowling at her, “when you blame everybody but yourself for your own actions or lack thereof, you disappoint me.” 

Before Michael can continue, he turns his head towards the corridor where Al Neri quickly rushes in, calling out for Michael’s attention. “Don Corleone!”

“What is it?” Michael’s facial expression immediately relaxes. “Tell me you have some good news for once tonight.”

“I don’t know what to call it, sir.” Al Neri comes up to Michael, holding up the ripped piece of your nightgown. “I found a piece of Mrs. Corleone’s nightgown torn off from a struggle.”

“Let me see that.” Michael snatches the piece of cloth from Neri’s hand, looking at it closely in the palm of his hand. “This was torn right off.”

“Yes, sir.” Neri nods, “there’s some mud and a bit of a footprint on it too. Looks like it was stepped on and ripped like that.”

“So there was a struggle,” Michael murmurs, quick to close the door of the drawing room behind him so neither Sandra nor Connie gets to hear. “Just what the hell happened?”

“That’s not all.” Neri hesitates to make direct eye contact with Michael. “Not too far from it we also found a small pool of blood, sir.”

“Show me.” Colour drains out of Michael’s face as he follows Al Neri back outside of the central family estate and over to the blood trail not far from your bedroom. 

“Just here, sir.” Neri points to where his men keep their flashlights aimed towards every drop of blood, no matter how small. “This section of the compound avoids any kind of light almost immediately, yet we found both the piece of Mrs. Corleone’s nightgown and the blood here.”

Michael crouches down towards the large splatter of dried blood, staring down at it directly. “This can’t be Victoria’s blood.”

“No sir, as it gets much heavier after this point onward.” Al Neri gestures with his finger towards the corner of the estate. 

Michael exchanges a glance with Neri, standing back up and immediately making haste to follow the rest of the blood trail leading to the drains. 

“This kind of splatter,” Michael mutters under his breath, “it shows someone was shot at close range. It’s messy.”

“I agree.” Neri leads Michael and the rest of his men further. “It’s messy and shows signs that whoever was shot is bleeding out and could not make it far.”

Michael presses his lips down into a firm line, thinking to himself it’s either your body that gave out somewhere hidden on the compound and this is actually your blood, or it’ll be the only time Michael feels relief tonight.

Neri knows this is the only thought on Michael’s mind following his boss’ silence, and he purposefully avoids any kind of eye contact or talking until they all approach the sewers.

“It stops right inside, sir.” Rocco’s voice calls out as he jumps into the small murky puddle leading into the drains. “Whoever got in bled out very quickly and didn’t make it far.”

Neri takes a step inside the sewers as Michael waits outside surrounded by the rest of the men, and it’s only a few moments later that the sounds of a body being dragged back towards the entrance can be heard.

Michael can’t ignore the relief his heart feels to see Neri and Rocco pulling out a man badly shot in the stomach and barely conscious instead of your body of all things.

“Sir.” Rocco looks up at Michael. “This man is still alive and has a pulse.”

“Finally caught one of the assassins, did you?” Michael mumbles—disappointment heavy in his voice. “Congratulations. Fish him out.” 

Careful not to manhandle the assassin too much from the state of his heavy wounds, Neri and Rocco take him out of the drains and onto the grass surrounding it—forcing the assassin to sit up.

“Ohhh, God…” The assassin groans out in pain, still insistent on clutching onto his stomach like it’ll spare his life. 

“Out of state,” Michael notes, knowing this is no regular buttonman from Nevada.

“C-can’t even die a peaceful death, can I?” The assassin lazily tilts his head back to look up at Michael.

“Laying in shit and mud within the sewers is as peaceful of a death as it gets for a rat like you.” Michael pulls out his pistol from his suit pocket, aiming it directly at the bullet wound on the assassin’s stomach. “I can make it much quicker for you. You will tell me your name and who you work for.”

“I’m dyin’, Don Corleone.” The assassin lets out a hacking, bloody cough. “Does i-it really look like I’m in the position to answer your questions?”

“Answer him, now.” Rocco kicks the assassin in the side, causing him to howl out in pain.

“You can still talk, that’s obvious.” Michael cocks his pistol. “Don’t think this can be the end of you that easily. I can get that wound of yours patched up and then slowly torture you by pulling out the stitches myself. So start. Talking.”

“You’ll find o-out soon enough.” The assassin chuckles weakly. “Oh, you’re everything they s-said you were, Don Corleone. Threats and all… Can’t you see this is a-all a game?” 

Drenched in the rancid scent of the sewers and completely soaked in mud, the assassin's clothes drip with waste matter as Rocco and Neri pull him up to his feet now.

“Taking my wife is some kind of game to you?” Michael furrows his brows.

“A-ah, that wasn’t me.” The assassin shakes his head. “T-that was my partner, of course. How am I gonna…gonna take out the pretty lady when she did this to me?” He gestures to the bullet lodged into his stomach. “T-that wife of yours sure is somethin’… Sure doesn’t go down without a fight but… Lookin’ at me now, I’d say she doesn’t go down without a murder.”

“If you don’t want that bullet pulled out of you right now you’re going to start confessing.” Neri threatens. “Tell us what your boss planned.”

“We were supposed to kill you.” The assassin smirks up at Michael. “But we always had a Plan B, as you can see… Take the wife if all else fails, you know? Hell of an aim that wife of yours has huh? Killing two of us.”

“I’ll take this body count off her hands.” Michael fires his pistol twice straight into the heart of the assassin as Neri and Rocco let the body drop out of their hands and to the ground.

“Sir?” Neri looks up at Michael expectantly for his next order. 

“This isn’t a Plan B.” Michael holds his pistol up, examining it. “This was supposed to happen to begin with. They took Victoria.” He lowers his gun down to his side. “And unless I’m dead wrong, they have her alive and they want her alive.”

“Who?” Tom’s voice breaks out as he approaches Michael and his men, out of breath.

“Alphonse Ricci, who else?” Michael’s voice drips with venom just mentioning the name. “Get rid of the bodies—all of them. I want this place cleaned up, spotless as if nothing happened. You two—” he points at Neri and Rocco. “I want your men to search and investigate every inch of the entire compound and its surroundings. Seal up the estates with security at all times. And one more thing.” Michael specifically stares into Rocco’s eyes. “Keep an eye on your own men, just in case.”

Michael knows there’s a traitor within the compound, and he’s never going to shy away from settling for the idea that there may be more than one.

~

Having the dried-up blood on your temple from being pistol-whipped unconscious is the only courtesy Alphonse’s assassins give you for tonight.

While you’re still out cold and laying in the back seat, the assassin sitting next to you takes his time properly and tightly restraining your ankles together and your wrists behind your back.

None of Alphonse’s men are risking any further surprises or movements from you tonight.

Far off from Lake Tahoe now, the destination of the car is still within Nevada and the driver’s able to relax knowing for certain he’s not being followed from any side.

Thirty minutes further into the drive within the night and the pitter-patter of rain beginning to surround the car becomes full out, pouring rain.

Soft, quiet jazz music plays in the car for some peace of mind; the roads remain slick and muddy from all the rain and making a mess over the car from how fast the speed limit allows on the highway.

“She ain’t awake yet, is she?” The driver looks up into the rear-view mirror.

“No, thank God.” The assassin mutters, taking off his fedora and setting it on his lap. “I got her all tied up at last, though.” 

“Good.” The driver sighs in relief. “Make sure whatever you tied on her is tight, so she doesn’t surprise us like fucking Houdini.” 

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” The assassin chuckles, glancing down at his fedora before back at your body; his eyes begin to widen in realization at your belly. “Shit.”

“What?” The driver’s tone of voice grows alarmed. “What is it?”

The assassin pauses for a moment, placing his hand against your small—yet noticeable when looking up close—baby bump. “Shit.”

“WHAT?” The driver repeats, practically yelling. “Don’t freak me out up here man, tell me what the fuck is going on.”

“She’s pregnant.” The assassin shakes his head. “Fucking shit.”

“What?!” The driver exclaims out in surprise. “Are you fucking serious right now?”

“Yeah, man.” The assassin nods, pulling his hand back. “Uhhh, not far along from what I know with my lady but Corleone is definitely pregnant.”

“Did she fall when you—”

“I don’t know, man!” The assassin’s voice tightens from panic. “It all happened so fucking fast, I don’t remember! She fell right into my arms, she couldn’t have hit the ground or anything.”

“Goddamn it.” The driver hisses under his breath. “Have some fucking integrity with yourself. Pregnant or not, that’s still a woman and this is nothing but a surprise.”

“Yeah, I know.” The assassin mumbles, rubbing his face glumly. “Last thing we need is something to happen to that baby.”

“That’s Michael Corleone’s baby.” The driver clarifies. “That means more than one thing, for the boss too. She’s even more valuable now to us than you think. The boss said no harm should come to her at all unless necessary when restraining her.”

“Listen, man.” The assassin sighs loudly, getting fed up with the constant back and forth lecturing. “I KNOW. I know that.”

“Then let me remind you again, because it’s your ass on the line, not mine!” The driver narrows his eyes in the rear-view mirror. “My job is just to drive.”

“Uh-huh.” The assassin rolls his eyes. “Well, lucky you then. I guess we can’t all drive away from certain death and torture, away from dozens of security cards and Michael Corleone’s multi-million dollar home.”

“Listen, pal, I know I’m not that lucky, but that braindead brother-in-law of this broad got us in and he got us out.” The driver points out, “you wanna thank someone for being alive? Thank him. As I said, I’m just doing my job. I got a family to feed at home and we all have a part to play.”

“Don’t we all?” The assassin mutters out a rhetorical question. “My job is basically done. She ain’t hit too hard either and I cleaned up that blood. But she’s gonna catch a cold if we get her out of the car like this.”

“I have my trenchcoat up here in the front seat.” The driver gestures with his hand. “You can wrap that around her. Keep her warm at least.”

“That’ll do.” The assassin leans up, grabbing the trenchcoat off the front passenger seat. “It’s the middle of the goddamn night after all. I wouldn’t have expected her to be fully and warmly clothed in bed.” The assassin places the driver’s trenchcoat over top of you like a blanket. “She looks fine now.”

“As I said, man, we’ll let the boss decide that. Are there any visible marks on her forehead?” The driver asks, concerned.

“Well,” the assassin leans over to you for a closer look. “It’s not swollen or anything but there’s definitely a small gash.”

“Fuck’s sakes.” The driver sighs quietly to himself. “We could both get killed for this. Just keep it clean until we get there if you can. It’ll have to do for now. We’re taking two people to the boss now, not just one.”

~

Michael Corleone is the type of man who has both the patience, money and time to not only have his estate’s compound and the vicinity searched, but all of Lake Tahoe. 

Nothing differs from the fact he got his mother-in-law an ambulance with a private doctor and Doctor Katherine for familiarity by Ludovica’s side, and repairs were done to the bedroom windows and walls at 3AM by private contractors.

While Leonardo remains inside the central family estate comforting a crying Connie and her two sons, Giuseppe, Vito, Matteo, and Alessio remain in the boathouse with their men increasing security and fully searching every dead body for clues.

Getting away from the thundering rain, Michael remains in the living room with Tom and Sonny, sipping whiskey on the rocks quietly and is on his third cigarette out of stress. 

Tonight, nobody leaves or enters the compound except for the contractors who’ve been searched so thoroughly that Michael could pull out a list of their ancestry if he wanted to.

Everyone in your family and Michael’s is now aware you’ve been kidnapped. Your brother Matteo remains silent as he had been when he heard the news, while Alessio refuses to hide how distressed he’s felt throughout the night.

Giuseppe and Vito remain calm, but the distant and glum look on their faces shows that they too are concerned and deep in thought.

Everybody knows this kidnapping isn’t to kill or do something for the show. Everyone also knows Alphonse and his men will never get away with this, and those personal emotions must not be allowed to interfere in what must be done.

Such is true of Michael whose facial expression and body language have been unreadable to all except Connie this night. While he hides his emotions well as always, the anger swelling inside of Michael is immense.

As Michael finishes his third cigarette in silence, it’s then that Lorenzo walks into the living room—his hair still glistening wet from coming out of the boathouse and getting caught in the rain.

Nothing about Lorenzo reads ‘friendly’ or in the mood for conversation with the way he angrily approaches Michael and Tom by the fireplace, interrupting their silence. “Which one of your men do we have to kill for causing all of this, Corleone?”

“Hello to you too, Lorenzo.” Sonny rolls his eyes at the sudden show of attitude.

Michael looks up from his ashtray as if he hasn’t noticed Lorenzo coming in at all, and for Lorenzo’s sake, Michael chooses to ignore his tone of voice against him too. “If there was a quick fix to this situation such as putting a bullet between someone’s eyes, it would have happened already.”

“There’s never a quick fix with you, is there?” Lorenzo maintains his dance from where Tom and Michael sit.

“You can whine all you want, but it’s not going to change what happened tonight,” Michael says firmly as if he’s completely unbothered by tonight’s events.

“We’re not going to get anywhere if we don’t start from one place at a time.” Tom points out but is directing his words to Lorenzo. “We know who did this, but we still don’t know how or why.”

“Yeah, how the hell did they even get into the compound?” Sonny crosses his arms.

“It’s not an outside job, but those who’ve come inside physically have already been dealt with,” Michael replies plainly.

The room grows quiet as Lorenzo runs a hand through his hair. He silences himself from being about to speak out as the sound of Leonardo trying to hush a sobbing Connie comes out from the drawing room.

“Ignore her.” Michael puts out his shortened cigarette. “She’s just hysterical.”

“You know you can’t pin the blame on Constanzia for my sister’s own independence. Victoria would never make a stupid or selfish decision, even if her life was on the line.” Lorenzo narrows his eyes at Michael.

Michael pulls out a cigarette from his pack and doesn’t bother to look up at Lorenzo nor answer him until he’s lit it and put the cigarette in the corner of his mouth. “You really aren’t in any position to talk about my sister when yours is missing.”

“That’s your wife too, might I remind you.” Lorenzo scowls. 

“Believe me, I know.” Michael locks a cold gaze with Lorenzo. “I know. My pregnant wife was kidnapped. MY wife. An attempt was taken on my life, her life, and my children’s lives. Now your mother is injured and my wife is missing. This has more to do with me and my family than it ever has anything to do with you.”

“Lorenzo,” Tom clears his throat awkwardly, wishing to avoid another verbal confrontation between Michael and Lorenzo here and now. “What we really need to worry about now is if Victoria’s being taken out of state or not. We can narrow down our options and get this done and over with.”

“Do any of you think she’s being taken out of state?” Sonny scoffs.

“Not a chance,” Michael answers Sonny. “We have airports and the surrounding borders on high alert.”

“Everybody in Nevada knows Alphonse is in Nevada then. He wasn’t lurking around Las Vegas for no reason.” Sonny mutters under his breath in annoyance. “If he’s smart, he’ll keep Victoria there.”

“Exactly.” Tom sighs, relaxing in his seat. 

“The goal has never been to take her far away, if anything Alphonse has done in the past has told us something.” Michael takes a short drag out of his cigarette. 

“That rat is just doing what he can.” Lorenzo grits his teeth, attempting to calm himself down. “Anything he can just because he has the ability to do so.”

“That’s what happens when you’re a man with no real power.” Sonny snaps his finger. “And I swear if they harmed Vic—”

“There’ll be hell to pay regardless,” Michael adds, speaking in a calm and low voice. “His men were stupid enough to talk before they were killed. There’ll be a ransom as they hold Victoria hostage, no doubt.”

“Then Ricci is really as stupid as they say he is if he wants money.” Lorenzo turns his attention to the set of drinks on the coffee table. “He’s drowning in his family’s wealth as is.”

“It’s never been about money.” Michael continues smoking his cigarette. “It can’t ever be that easy for him.”

“This is all some kind of sick game to him.” Tom frowns. “Kidnapping a pregnant woman.”

“The people who orchestrated this assassination and kidnapping have no idea we know as much as we do, and I intend to keep it that way.” Michael sets his gold lighter upward on the table before him. “Death is not going to be the release they think it is. They want us chasing them down in cars and infiltrating every hideout they have for information.”

“Yeah, they’ll expect it any minute now.” Sonny agrees.

“Well?” Lorenzo raises his brows, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. 

“We’ll wait.” Michael brushes him off.

“Excuse me?” Lorenzo holds his glass up, staring at Michael in disbelief. 

“As I’ve said before, we’ll wait.” Michael gives Lorenzo a nasty glare. “We’re not about to give them what they want like an instant reaction or there’ll be more unnecessary bloodshed and civilians involved.”

“Mike’s right.” Tom nods glumly. “There’ll be a whole shootout, damage to the city, and no proposition.” 

“So what? You’re going to wait for Ricci and his rats to give you a call with a ransom, then act?” It couldn’t possibly be more of a mirror opposite than what Lorenzo would personally do.

“I don’t play into anybody’s hands,” Michael states clearly. “Nobody is getting in or out of this compound tonight, including you. Nobody goes after Victoria tonight.”

~

[ 3:30 AM ]

With everyone else finally asleep in the estate, only Michael, Sonny, and Tom remain awake at this hour as if they’re expecting further news. 

In reality, nobody’s truly getting any real rest after tonight and Michael certainly isn’t going to be one to lie to himself that sleep will resolve the thoughts buzzing in and out of his mind, still keeping him alert and wide awake.

Tom examines the documents he’s taken from the study that he and Michael’s informants had gathered about Alphonse and the Ricci family over the past seven years—specifically looking for any criminal charges on his men and the fact you prosecuted his brother back in 1949. 

Tom can’t stop himself from looking up at how crowded and littered Michael’s ashtray has become, let alone the fact Michael had a small glass of whiskey tonight to calm his nerves too.

Others may not notice or even care, but Tom knows this is the pinnacle of Michael being under stress even though he handles it well. 

Sonny on the other hand couldn’t be any more different from Michael himself. Sonny can’t help but showcase all of his emotions, no matter how severe they are like Lorenzo—hence why Sollozzo referred to Sonny’s anger as his “famous temper” which may as well be infamous.

Had Sonny or Vito still been Don—Sonny may as well have been ripping Michael apart for refusing to act on getting his wife back right away, and Sonny may have run off after you himself.

Still, Sonny knows better than to argue with Michael or act against him, so he keeps his grumbles and opinions to himself only. 

Sonny has to remind himself as he’s done so several times before that you’re just his sister-in-law, not his wife, nor will you ever be and he needs to care about you appropriately.

“Mikey…” Tom begins with a soft sigh, looking up at his brother. “You should really consider getting some rest now. It’s almost 4AM.” 

“I’m aware of what time it is, thank you, Tom,” Michael murmurs through his cigarette.

“It’s not like anyone’s getting a wink of real sleep tonight.” Sonny stretches out his arms with a grunt.

“True, but what will sleep deprivation offer us tomorrow morning?” Tom frowns.

“We can only speak for ourselves,” Michael speaks up again. “You tell me what we learned tonight, what both of you think, and only then will I consider sleep.”

“Fair enough.” Tom clears his throat, taking another look down at the documents before him. “Well, we know Alphonse Ricci is behind this whole thing but he hasn’t personally left a calling card or any kind of physical evidence proving this. No ransom either.”

“It’s too early for that.” Michael taps off the ashes from the tip of his cigarette. “For all we know, he doesn’t have Victoria where he wants her just yet.”

“True.” Sonny checks the time on his wristwatch. “Probably still on the way to God knows where the bastard wants her taken to.”

“Hopefully, Victoria’s alive,” Sonny mumbles to himself.

“What about the twins, though?” Sonny asks. “I’m curious what you told them about all this, Mike.”

“They know that Doctor Katherine is at the hospital with their grandmother and so is Victoria. Isn’t that right?” Michael shoots both of his brothers a look, expecting them to keep up with the story should the twins ask.

“Yeah.” Sonny scratches the back of his head. “Of course.”

Tom nods, knowing obviously the twins can’t be told their mother is (potentially) hurt and kidnapped and nothing must hint at that in any way. “My question is why would someone like Alphonse want to transport a corpse to him? Err—” Tom’s quick to clear his throat, noticing the poisonous look in Michael’s eyes at the concept of you being killed by Alphonse’s men. “Ahem, what I mean to say is that it wouldn’t make any sense to hurt Victoria for Alphonse.”

“True.” Sonny tugs on his curls, nodding. “That stupid bastard always has had a bone to pick with the Ferrari’s—always will, always has. Don Ferrari’s men brutalized a lot of his own back in the day or so I hear; made a damn fool out of his father at times.”

“That sounds like a personal problem.” Michael could care less about how Alphonse feels. “A man who doesn’t respect himself will never have the empathy to respect others.”

Tom shuffles the documents over the coffee table around, taking a look at a different one detailing Alphonse’s family history. “And either Alphonse knows Victoria’s pregnant already or he’s going to find out… If he has a ransom of any kind, he could double it just for that.”

“The fuck?” Sonny furrows his brows in frustration. “Why the hell does that matter to him? It’s not like they took her with the baby in her damn arms.”

“Because it means Alphonse has taken two people, not just one,” Tom answers with a frown.

A scowl twists over Michael’s expression. “If the baby or Victoria is harmed in any way, I’ll make Don Ferrari’s supposed brutalization look like child’s play with what I’ll have done to Alphonse’s entire family.”

“Damn right.” Sonny chuckles quietly. “Just like how I would. It’s the right thing to do when it comes to that fucker.”

“I get that,” Tom lets out a shaky sigh, “but maybe that’s what he wants us to do. Maybe he’s hoping we panic and overreact.”

“It’s not an overreaction, Tom.” Michael clarifies. “It would be done much after Alphonse’s own death. He will not be alive to see it.”

“You’re right, Mikey.” Tom rakes a hand through his hair. “I uhh—I hate to say this but after looking at all the facts, I don’t see how this is any different from any other business negotiation but Alphonse has taken your wife from you. That makes it personal now, Mike. So that means personal actions and personal emotions come into play with things like this. We can’t afford to treat it as business.”

“I can and I will.” Michael reaffirms. “Let the ransom come to me and I’ll decide further.”

“If there is any.” Sonny points out. “Alphonse might just be doing this for fuck all.”

“Yes, that’s true.” Tom plops back down in his seat with a loud sigh. “He isn’t beyond doing things just because he can.”

“It’s because he doesn’t follow any code of honor.” Michael rests his chin over his fist, putting out his cigarette. “There’s a reason why civilians aren’t killed or involved, for one. If he has any common sense, then he’ll know if he hurts Victoria or does something stupid, all the crime families would turn on him and not just because they fear Don Ferrari. If they let it go by them that Victoria’s harmed or killed, all of our names would be smeared. Any one of us would have to kill Alphonse unless we want another full-out war and headlines that the government needs to crack down on ‘the mafia’ again.”

“Yes, it would also mean we’d lose considerable strength with the police force and they’d have to turn on all of us for an investigation that may come from the FBI. It gets very, very messy.” Tom rubs his temple tenderly, growing increasingly stressed.

“That’s really not a fuckin’ option for us at this point.” Sonny throws his hands up in frustration. “I doubt Alphonse would dig his own grave like that—“

“He already has.” Michael remains calm and unphased. “He just happens to have one foot in it already.”

“He’s definitely working with someone else.” Tom avoids looking down at the documents again. “Mikey, there’s just no way Alphonse has that kind of power or muscle to pull off something like this by himself—let alone that attempted assassination. It’s not like the old days anymore.”

“I assumed that much,” Michael replies plainly. 

“I thought those old fucks Barzini and Tattaglia knew better than to join up with him again.” Sonny scoffs.

“They’ve never known better.” Michael moves his cigarette pack closer to him over the coffee table. “We will not underestimate them either way. Someone else is involved and I know it.”

“So what are we gonna do?” Sonny turns to face Michael.

“We’ll wait.” Michael gives the same answer as earlier tonight. “We’ll wait for a ransom or whatever comes further just as Alphonse will await a reaction. If he’s expecting me to go ballistic, however, then he proves yet again he doesn’t know me at all.”

“And as for Victoria?” Tom asks quietly.

“Do you not know who Victoria is at this point, Tom?” Michael sighs, looking up at his brother. “She’s not one to overreact, to begin with. I want to protect her and bring my wife back home safely, but when she’s there and we’re here still figuring out her location, I know she can handle herself—and she must. Every move we make is critical and this could cause her and the baby harm if anyone steps out of line. I won’t abide failure.”

“Yeah, Tom.” Sonny relaxes in his chair, patting the armrests. “She’s a Corleone wife, after all, ya know? Much higher status than before. She’s a part of the two most powerful mafia families in this country and their business. So she provides as many opportunities to Alphonse as Mike’s death would if everything went in his favor tonight.”

“They know exactly who Victoria Ferrari Corleone is.” Michael nods slowly. “Victoria is much more valuable alive rather than dead, unlike me. I want my wife back, Tom.” Michael looks up at his brother before redirecting his gaze to Sonny. “I want her and our baby she’s carrying back unharmed and safe at any cost. Any cost. I’ll personally make sure I do this, and I want my brothers by my side when it’s done because there’s just going to be more bloodshed now. Are you with me?”

“Yeah, Mike.” Sonny sits up. “I am.”

“Yes, me too.” Tom nods. “Anything you need Mikey, we’re here.”

~

Still well within Nevada, your destination straight to Alphonse isn’t in Las Vegas, Reno, or rather anywhere most people have even heard of, but a near ghost town called Silver City—forty minutes away from Lake Tahoe.

Alphonse himself can’t be seen anywhere near Reno or Las Vegas, let alone take you there now with Michael’s men on the lookout, crawling by the borders of the state too meaning California was never an option.

Alphonse is smart in the sense that he knows nobody will think twice about taking you to a sleepy little town and even then, it’ll be all the more entertaining for Alphonse to see you try and get to this empty wasteland before figuring out where exactly you are or what to do.

The rain stretches out the drive longer as expected, but as Michael was still talking to his brothers at around 3:30 AM, you arrived in Silver City by the same time. 

Depending on where and how you look at it, Silver City can resemble nothing but a near ghost town and nothing else, an abandoned junkyard within a half-empty desert or beautiful in its own way.

Where you’re taken to in specific is nowhere near the rest of the scarce population in Silver City, but an isolated, old ranch-style manor—Alphonse Ricci’s only welcome place to hide in Nevada.

As the car approaches the manor, Alphonse’s men who maintain positioned strategically around the property shine their flashlights over the car immediately—causing the driver to brake abruptly to shield his eyes.

“It’s us, come on! Get that shit out of my eyes.” The driver sticks his middle finger up to the door.

“Yeah, yeah, asshole.” One of the guards calls out from the distance as the flashlights are only lowered to illuminate the path up to the manor which would otherwise be ensnared in complete darkness. 

“Hurry up and get in here already.” Another guard speaks out. “Took your sweet ass time.”

The assassin in the back of the car with you rolls his eyes, thinking it’s not worth his time to even bother saying anything back.

He scoops you up into his arms carefully, still with the driver’s trenchcoat wrapped around you to keep you dry and warm before taking you out of the car. “We’re here now, aren’t we?”

“There was a damn storm if it wasn’t obvious.” The driver shuts the car door behind him as he steps out.

“Doesn’t matter.” A deep voice cuts in as one of Alphonse’s capos pushes steps out onto the porch. “As long as you weren’t followed and Victoria Corleone is unharmed.”

“She put up a hell of a fucking fight, I’ll tell you that.” The assassin grits his teeth, holding you tightly. 

“Seriously?” The capo raises his brows in disbelief and disappointment. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ joking.”

“Yeah, why?” The assassin scowls, “you don’t see Jimmy with me, do you? What do you think she did to him, invite him over for tea?”

The guards with the flashlights by the front of the porch quietly exchange a glance with one another before the capo asks another question. “What exactly happened?”

“She fucking shot him last second, motherfucker bled out in the goddamn sewers before we could even get out.” The assassin huffs, glaring at your limp body. 

The capo rolls his eyes, beginning to hear his men snickering in the back. “So at about 2AM, Victoria Corleone in nothing but a nightgown and a pair of heels killed one of you?” Before the assassin can come up with an answer to the rhetorical question, a wad of spit flies in his face.

“Fuck you!” You weakly pry open your eyes, struggling in the assassin’s arms.

“Oh, whoa!” The assassin grunts, “there she is—what perfect timing.”

“Good morning, sunshine.” The capo chuckles, motioning for his men to sit down as he can tell your wrists and ankles are bound so tightly you’ll be incapable of doing anything but flopping around like a fish. “She’s not as helpless as she may want you to think. Get her to stand up, I’ll let her walk.”

“Careful so she doesn’t dislocate your jaw with a kick.” The assassin mutters, forcing you down as the driver assists him.

“Don’t worry about me, kid.” The capo takes out a switchblade from his suit pocket, showing it to you first with a wry grin over his lips before cutting the ropes around your ankles with ease. “She knows when she’s outnumbered, isn’t that right? Ah, let me take a good look at her.” The capo rises back up to his feet, looking at you with the driver’s trenchcoat wrapped around your shoulders loosely. “Mhmm.” The capo tilts your chin up but is only met with a scowl from you. “You know,” he begins, “you can spit on my face all you want but it’s only gonna make your stay here a lot more uncomfortable.”

“Is that a threat?” You hiss.

“Yes.” The capo seems more irritated with the gash on your temple than your comments. 

“You’re a bad liar.” You grunt, refusing to stay still.

“Yeah?” The capo raises both of his brows, pushing you inside the estate. “And how would you know?”

“If any one of you wanted to hurt me, you would have already.” You narrow your eyes, stepping inside the estate by force. 

“You’re very smart, Corleone.” The capo chuckles to himself. “You definitely live up to that mythic reputation of yours, because a ‘smart man’ would have never come to underestimate a mafiosa like you. Now, WALK.” He gives you another forceful push. 

“I’m walking.” You say through gritted teeth before purposefully jerking your ankle to the side—a risk to break your ankle but only doing so to dig the tip of your heel into the carpet and break it off entirely. “Ow, fuck!”

“For fuck’s sakes, someone take those fucking shoes off of her.” The capo rolls his eyes, pulling you back by the binds on your wrist.

Pretending you neither care nor notice you left a mark on the rug, you stand still as Alphonse’s men throw off your kitten heels quickly.

“Take her inside.” The capo points at a closed-door around the corner of the estate. “The boss has waited for her long enough.”

You look up ahead of you, having already used up much of the energy and strength you had since you awoke. 

Now, drowsiness and weakness hit you from all sides as you remember just how hard you were hit in the head as you’re dragged into the room.

Alphonse’s men leading and pushing you further into the estate control all of your movements so you can’t even jerk your muscles if you wanted to.

From the moment you enter, you’re able to make out a well-furnished, large office room as your surroundings. Across from you is a fireplace crackling with a warm glow and the faint scent of fresh, burning wood.

A large, crimson patterned Persian rug adorns the maple floors and the wallpaper is in an old Victorian style.

The only painting on the wall is a large portrait of Niccolo Machiavelli directly behind the office table, but small sets of black and white photographs of the Ricci crime family dating back to the 1800s are scattered around on the office desk, on the ledge of the fireplace and on the coffee table to the right of the room. 

It’s more than apparent to you that Alphonse has been running his operations here for quite some time. You can’t just call it a hideout or a dump—this may as well be home. 

Just as you begin to process what kind of room you’re in, you’re left to stand in the center while Alphonse’s men take their seats by two leather armchairs near the fireplace like you aren’t in the room, to begin with.

You watch them light up cigars out of a gold-plated case, relaxing as Alphonse now enters the room as well from another door concealed within the wallpaper.

You turn your head to see Alphonse Ricci facing you directly—locking eyes in a deadly gaze as a sardonic smirk forms on his lips. “The beautiful Victoria Ferarri; I’m so glad you could make it all this way to come to see me.”

Alphonse only takes a few steps towards you from where he entered, and suddenly you feel two pairs of rough hands on you dragging you by your shoulders up to him directly.

Alphonse notices the pissed expression on your face and the drowsiness in your eyes, cupping your face gently. “Was it a rough ride coming here, darling? Or was it the time?” Alphonse raises his right arm to show you his glistening, gold wristwatch—the exact same 18k model Michael wears.

Your eyes widen in realization, giving Alphonse his first anticipated response of the evening.

“Ooh, that’s got you awake, isn’t it?” He grins. “But I’m far from being a rude host. I can see when my guests are tired. Maybe we should have that heart-to-heart talk I’ve been waiting years for later—when you’re settled in.”

You pull your eyes away from Alphonse’s watch as he lowers his wrist, saying to him, “fuck you.”

Alphonse rolls his eyes and lets out a soft sigh before shrugging his shoulders. “I expected you to say as much. Sweet dreams then, honey.”

He raises his fist, striking you harshly over the gash on your forehead which instantly knocks you out again; this time making sure you fall helplessly into his arms.

Once again, everything surrounding you has become pitch black as you fade into unconsciousness. 

~

The longest night of Michael’s life passes by agonizingly slow with Michael laying in a half-empty bed, forcing his eyes shut and “sleeping”. His security and men remain on high alert now instructed to do so 24/7 in alternating shifts, knowing there’ll be no peace at the Lake Tahoe compound for as long as you’re absent from it.

Speaking of your absence, it’s what’s killing Michael on the inside. It doesn’t matter how many times Michael tosses and turns in the bed—he hates to turn around and see your side empty and cold, but at the same time wants to do so with some silly hope inside of him that you’ll be there.

Michael feels more bitter and frustrated now left alone with his personal thoughts in the bedroom he always shared with you. 

To make matters worse, Michael can still smell your perfume and favorite body wash lingering on the sheets and your pillow.

Instead of trying to forget or get his mind off of you, Michael forces himself to face the direction of your side of the bed before squeezing his eyes shut.

‘I promise I’m going to get you back here safe and sound, Victoria. This’ll all be over soon, and everyone who has a part to play will pay with their lives for what they’ve done.’

Running on barely three hours of sleep, Michael is up first thing at 6AM with the rest of the family except the children who remain guarded inside, sleeping soundly.

Breakfast is brief and quiet, filled with tension as everyone knows today’s going to be about business and nothing else—especially as Giuseppe and Michael await a ransom.

Around 6AM, you too stir in your sleep as if your body’s attempting to wake you, but you can also hear hushed whispering around you. 

For all you know, you think you’re still tied up and presumably laying on the Persian rug from where you must have fallen from that blow to your head, but you’re wrong.

Your wrists were untied and your body can tell it’s laying over a soft mattress of some unknown bed.

The reddened marks over your wrists and ankles begin to bruise overnight, so tender and sore to the touch that it could cause you to cry if someone touched them. 

Still incapacitated and heavily drowsy, your vision is too blurry to see anything around you and you can’t pry your eyelids open to save your life.

You do feel a trickle of some liquid running down the side of your face; your gash hit by Alphonse on purpose, now darkened and mottled.

In reality, you’re completely unaware you’re laying next to Alphonse in his bed, tucked under warm blankets and over black, silky sheets.

Alphonse lays next to you half-naked, smoking a cigarette and leaning his back up against a propped-up pillow; a heavenly sight to you when it’s Michael in this position.

“Awake already, huh?” His eyes dart over to your exposed back from your nightgown, and when Alphonse notices your body twitching as if you’d awaken, he holds his cigarette between his lips and reaches for your binds on the end table next to him.

You whimper, feeling a stinging pain from your wrists being tied up behind you again but Alphonse keeps his movements as gentle and slow as possible not to hurt you.

“Sorry sweetheart, this is just for your own safety for a little while longer.” As soon as your wrists are secured to Alphonse’s liking, an injection follows next. 

You have no idea what’s happening to you when you feel the prick of a syringe poke into your arm, but it instantly drugs you into deep sleep again.

“I don’t want you awake just yet, kitten.” Alphonse brushes your hair behind your neck, slowly pulling out the syringe and noticing your body going limp. “After I’ve had a talk with that pathetic excuse of a husband of yours, it’ll just be me and you. You’ll see.”

~

Just as expected, putting everyone on edge but relieving them at the same time, the telephone on Michael’s office desk begins to ring.

Sitting around Michael’s office are Tom, Sonny, Giuseppe, Leonardo, Lorenzo, and Vito—all exchanging expectant glances with one another as there’s no guessing who's making the phone call this early in the morning.

Michael’s expression remains cold and unreadable, and as he picks up the telephone and holds it up to his ear, Michael doesn’t even bother saying ‘hello’. “Alphonse.”

“Good morning, Michael.” Alphonse’s tone of voice is more amused than anything now that he finally has leverage over Michael. “I see you’re smart enough to figure out the rest here.”

“Cut the theatrics and bullshit.” As stern as Michael’s tone of voice grows, he holds back his anger and any indication of the frustration and stress mounting on him from last night. “I knew it was you.” 

“So you did.” Alphonse chuckles. “That was the easy part, congratulations. Though if you didn’t assume it was me, I’d be questioning your judgment. What a rough night it must have been for you, Don Corleone.”

“On the contrary, I’d say the same for you.” Michael grips the telephone against his ear so harshly his knuckles turn white. “All of your men and the assassins you sent are dead, rotting away in the sewers of my estate.”

“Ah, yes.” Alphonse doesn’t seem the slightest bit phased by the death of his own men. “All except for the one who took your precious wife to me, right? You’re not gonna include him?”

“Doesn’t make a difference, does it?” Michael's eyes glare down at the burning tip of his cigarette; his voice completely drained of emotion. “I’ll kill him too and he’ll join the body count with you soon enough.”

“Bold.” Alphonse grazes his tongue over his front teeth. “I’ll believe it when I see a bullet lodged in the back of his head with my own two eyes. For now, he has a promotion, a big payday, and is enjoying his breakfast next to me. Speaking of, how does Victoria like her coffee? Oh, or does she prefer tea?”

“Don’t fucking touch her or do anything to my wife, do you understand?” Michael narrows his eyes. “Even you know you don’t need to touch her.”

“Victoria’s a sensitive topic, isn’t she? And all I asked was about tea or coffee. You’re killing my fun here, Michael. Touching her is half the fun. I don’t just have her here with me because I can, I have her by my side because I wanted to marry her, and do business with her and her family. That hasn’t changed. I have history with Victoria, hence why I’m actually eager to catch up with her here, but don’t worry—I’ll give her princess treatment. Victoria will be as safe and as sound, as she can be with me, provided she doesn’t do anything stupid. Then of course I can’t guarantee I won’t get a little rough with her.”

“You’re a sick man, Alphonse. You’re delusional living in your head with all these fantasies of Victoria.” Michael grits his teeth.

“Please.” Alphonse rolls his eyes, looking over at you bound over the middle of his Persian rug on your stomach. “I have your wife bound like I’m putting her on a spitfire laying on my favorite Persian rug. It’s a nice view I can get used to—and I will. I have the fireplace on too, to keep her nice and warm considering she’s still in that dainty, sexy nightgown of hers. And I see you managed to knock her up again, huh? You have a lot of explaining to do.”

“I owe you no such justification or insight on my private life with my wife. I would have thought by now you could come up with more elaborate, believable lies. You can stop with the bullshit, I know you hurt her.”

“Well,” Alphonse drags on his words, “it’s not like she’d go to sleep if I asked her nicely too, so maybe I had to do a little something. You know I don’t like hurting women—especially pregnant women. Were you two planning on having another little Corleone or was this a surprise?”

“I know what game you’re playing.” Michael continues to speak in a monotone, calm voice. “You don’t need me to remind you again that when I find you, I’ll put you down like a dog. If you’re half the man you claim to be, you’ll know better than to hurt her or our baby.”

“I’ll take good care of her, bigshot.” Alphonse props his feet up on his desk. “Don’t stress yourself out so much, army boy. From now on, I’ll do you a favor. Whenever I want her to be asleep and unaware, I’ll drug her. You know I won’t lay my hands on her in that state. Actually, I’d prefer to see if she could fight me equally.” He laughs to himself, “I know she’s got a hell of an aim with a gun but unarmed, even my best men are afraid she’ll scratch their eyes out.”

“And you expect me to believe a word you say?” Michael exchanges a look with your father. “You’re nothing but a liar.”

“I’m a lot of things.” Alphonse shrugs his shoulders. “I’m a man of taste too. You know…” He grins, quick to change the conversation. “Your wife looks good in that nightgown of hers, did I mention that already? It barely covers her ass or those thighs too. Tell me—what should I do to her next, Michael? Should I cut her? Make her cry? Or should I make her moan?”

“If you’re expecting some sort of reaction for me, prepare to be gravely disappointed,” Michael tells him. 

“Awww.” Alphonse frowns. “I was hoping I’d get some kind of reaction. I’m telling the truth as I know it and see it. I don’t care if you believe me or not. Also, thank you to your little friend for letting my men into your compound so easily. It’s quite unfortunate you’re still alive but I’m starting to think this backup plan of ours is worth much, much more than your miserable life. Look at you, you’re eating right out of my hand.”

“Enjoying your fifteen minutes of fame, I see.” Michael rolls his eyes. “Revel in it, Alphonse. I guarantee you it will be brief; numbered like the days of your life.”

“All bark and no bite.” Alphonse brushes off Michael’s threats. “Why not just do this the easy way? You want your wife back and money isn’t a problem. I see a solution! I want twenty million dollars sent to me in cash.”

“You’re not getting anything, Alphonse, and I will have my wife back.” Venom drips from Michael’s words. “Try again.”

“You must be really stupid then.” Irritation crosses Alphonse’s tone of voice. “Why wouldn’t you just give up the cash if you want your broad back so badly?”

“I know you too well, that’s why.” Michael answers. “You have no intention of giving Victoria up. You made this personal.”

Out of anger, Lorenzo can no longer hold back his tongue. “You know what you’re doing is against the honor code of the mafia. All seven families will come for you and hunt you down.”

“Ooh, I even got the attention of one of the Ferrari brothers! This must be my lucky day. Sorry—Lorenzo, isn’t it? As much as I admire your handiwork, I was hoping to hear from your father instead. I bet he’s there with you now, isn’t he, Michael? In that case.” Alphonse clears his throat, raising his voice louder over the telephone. “It would have been avoidable, Don Ferrari, if you even bothered to give me the time of day. Now that I have your daughter you care about me? I always knew I’d get to you one way or another. Good thing this is between me and Michael and that I like Victoria’s company. Do you all want to kill me so badly? Come and get me, wise guy. Twenty million by 3AM tomorrow night, Corleone. Make it worth my while by coming tonight and I’ll see if I can lower the offer to twelve. Time’s ticking.”

“Or else what?” Michael scoffs. “You think we’re all quaking from your idle talk? Nothing but threats from a schoolyard bully.”

“Or else?!” Alphonse repeats, increasingly growing frustrated. “Or else you can face the fact I won’t provide any mercy to that knocked-up wife of yours. I’m not fucking around, Corleone!” With that, Alphonse slams the telephone down, hanging up. 

In truth, Alphonse has no intention to kill or harm you and your baby. Regardless of being a sorry excuse of a mafioso—let alone a decent man—Alphonse’s feelings for you are still there and felt strongly.

Even if Michael isn’t reacting the way Alphonse is expecting him to, there’s no doubt that there must be some sort of hatred boiling in Michael’s heart deep down—especially after this telephone call.

If in some sort of way Alphonse can get Michael emotional, then it’ll provide the perfect opportunity to catch Michael off guard and subsequently have him killed.

As a result of that scenario, Alphonse would want and have you all to himself as his wife in return for sparing your family after killing the most powerful mobster on the continent. One way or another, he’d win like that.

Alphonse’s intention behind his every word and action is to kill Michael and only to kill Michael—it’s never truly been all about you, but at the same time, you’re still very dear and personal to Alphonse too.

You overheard some of the conversation while unconscious but you’re unable to make sense of much from the drugged-up state you’re in.

Alphonse on the other hand giving away he’s taken you somewhere in Nevada and expecting a ransom is done on purpose to get this over with as soon as possible, and by that he means finally killing Michael.

Unlike you, Michael is a lot more deadly alive than he is dead no matter his brothers or his men who won’t be able to lift a finger after Alphonse has Don Ferrari’s options narrowed down with you by his side. 

Besides, Alphonse has had countless days and endless hours pondering just how he was going to orchestrate the attempted assassination on both of your lives, and if all else failed, he was going to make it a living hell with you as the example.

Alphonse hasn’t even bothered to have the phone call made to Michael from elsewhere; he no longer cares if his location can be traced or not because Silver City is no short car ride even in Michael’s best Cadillacs.

Alphonse has the advantage all around. He expects Michael at every moment and his men are prepared for his arrival anytime.

With the location of Alphonse’s estate in Silver City, there isn’t a single square mile Michael and his men can properly conceal themselves out in the middle of nowhere.

Having been in Silver City now for years, Alphonse has eyes and ears everywhere now and knows the place like the back of his hand.

There are no trees let alone any buildings anywhere near his estate to conceal any kind of ambush—let alone support it.

Even if Alphonse details all of this to you himself, it’ll never change your mind about Michael. You have the utmost confidence and trust in your husband that’ll never change—in a ghost town or not.

With the time limit of 3AM either tonight or tomorrow night depending on when Michael makes his move, Alphonse wants to spend as much time with you as possible.

After putting down the phone, Alphonse takes a deep breath and calms his nerves; his huffs of frustration turning into soft chuckles of amusement. 

There’s a power to be felt in Alphonse’s veins from being able to get Lorenzo Ferrari’s attention over the telephone, at the very least. 

‘Bingo.’ Alphonse knows your family is going to be eating out of his hand soon enough.

Taking his feet off his office desk, Alphonse rises from his seat and smoothens out his suit jacket.

As the capo nods and begins to exit the room, Alphonse slowly paces around before approaching you—still noticing how weak you are under the influence of what would otherwise be normally used to knock a patient out for a short surgery.

“It should have always been like this.” Alphonse murmurs, clasping his hands behind him/

‘I wanted her from the very beginning.’ Alphonse approaches you, kneeling down and caressing the side of your face—noticing you don’t stir.

‘Still a little heavy. This’ll last in her system for a little while longer.”

Alphonse eyes the reddened gash over your forehead. “You’re going to be the grand prize here, aren’t you? Although I wish you’d just make your own way to me. Hope you didn’t miss me too much, beautiful.” He runs his hands through your soft hair. 

Alphonse is still wildly attracted to you; his feelings had never changed from when he first asked your father for your hand in 1948. 

Now that Michael knows Alphonse had you sleep next to him in his bed for the night, Alphonse expects it’ll drive him off the rails if it hasn’t already—whether Michael wants to show it or not. 

Alphonse pulls his hand away from your hair, still concerned with the gash on your forehead, but never regretting his own actions. 

“Get someone to look after that gash on her forehead and clean it up,” Alphonse orders one of his capos in the room without raising his eyes off of you. “Then I want her back here, fully tied. I have some questions for Victoria Ferrari when she awakens from her beauty nap.”

~

Your father and brothers began to immediately track down the call from the moment Michael put down his telephone; remaining occupied with finding a location or at least a close proximity to wherever you may be.

Michael’s outside of the estate and by the docks to his yacht with Tom, Sonny, Neri, and Rocco by his side; silent as they listen to their Don.

“You two are my best men and assassins.” Michael eyes both Neri and Rocco. “I don’t need to remind you of that, however, if anything, last night was a grand disappointment for both of you. It was nothing but failure. If you make any of the same mistakes, get sloppy or let yourself go, then you’ll die with Alphonse’s men. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

“Yes, Don Corleone.” Rocco and Neri say back.

“Don Ferrari and his sons are close to tracking down a location. At the very least we’ll have that by today.” Michael directs his words to his brothers.

“It sounds remote.” Tom sighs quietly, crossing his arms. “No way Alphonse could be hiding out in a big city or populous town around here.”

“That’s almost for certain.” Michael agrees. “We will have the advantage of ground if he’s isolated somewhere. Nevada is filled with ghost towns, there’s no end to them.”

“Yeah, but that’s the problem.” Sonny frowns. “We can’t be seen at all if he’s out in the middle of ass nowhere.”

“What do you think?” Michael raises a brow at Rocco, most of Michael’s disappointment and suspicion still lingering towards Rocco from last night.

“Difficult, but not impossible.” Rocco answers.

“Getting close and using the element of surprise will aid us well,” Neri adds. “It’ll cause just enough confusion for our men to get in.”

“Good,” Michael says. “Then we’ll also bring in our snipers from afar. None of our cars or men can be seen.”

“How will we know where to hold out ground?” Tom asks.

“It doesn’t matter, Tom,” Michael tells him sternly. “If we have to go in shooting still on the road, then so be it. Whether the vicinity is completely barren or not doesn’t concern me in the slightest. It’ll be done, I’ll be there to see it.”

Regardless of who this could have happened to, it’s almost completely unheard of to have the family’s Don present during guaranteed bloodshed and violence; the glances Tom and Sonny exchange with one another saying it all.

Michael’s brothers both know this can and will be dangerous for everyone involved, but especially Michael’s since he’s the prime target. Still, Michael’s word and decision are final—it can’t be argued with by anyone.

“Right after an attempt was taken on your life, Mike?” Sonny scratches the back of his neck. “Are you sure?”

“We both know Alphonse is truly after me, not the money. Even if I were to do something as ridiculous as deliver him twelve to twenty million dollars in cash, that provides us no guarantee of Victoria’s life and safety. He won’t stop there either.” Michael narrows his eyes, looking towards the dock. “Even if he did let Victoria go, we’d have thrown money at the problem. Then we shouldn’t be surprised when a knife lands on our backs or more bullets fly over our heads upon his next move. If I don’t go—” Michael’s eyes meet his brothers again. “Alphonse will kill Victoria and take the money. I’m not having my wife’s corpse dragged out of whatever hole he’s hiding in. If Alphonse wants me, then he’ll have me—but not in the way he thinks. We won’t bring any money. He’ll know why we’re there.”

“I agree, sr.” Rocco points towards the parking area towards the outside of the compound. “We’ll take our best vehicles and scatter so we won’t be pinpointed together and we won’t be heard coming at the same time either. We’ll have to go at night though to get as close to some sort of stealth.”

“You know what you have to do.” Michael nods in approval. “Handle it with Neri. Once we’re inside, everything will come to a quick end. I will personally kill Alphonse, is that understood? None of you will incapacitate him unless absolutely necessary.”

“Yes, Don Corleone.” Neri and Rocco respond back.

Michael, Sonny, and Tom’s heads turn to hear the door of the boathouse being pushed open; Lorenzo and Leonardo stepping out towards Michael and his brothers.

“Well?” Michael asks rather impatiently to the two.

“Silver City.” Leonardo looks up at Michael, shaking his head. “Alphonse has taken Victoria to Silver City. We know exactly where they are now.”

“A damn near ghost town just forty minutes from here,” Lorenzo mutters under his breath. “Just perfect. I expected as much.”

In reality, Alphonse expects Michael and his men to show up as soon as possible—no need to wait until tonight because Alphonse wants Michael to underestimate him. 

Michael may have mentioned bringing his best snipers, but Alphonse already has his own positioned on the roof to ensure the best protection possible.

“Corleone and company will be here soon,” Alphonse smirks, smoking a cigar. “Instead of shooting out bedroom windows this time, we can have a lot more fun lodging bullets into each and every one of Corleone’s men—after him, of course,” Alphonse speaks loud and clear for not only all his surrounding men to hear, but you too—still tied up and laying on his Persian rug. “I’ll kill Corleone myself, otherwise where’s the fun in all of this?” He shoots a cautionary look at his men. “Disarmed at most by any one of you but not maimed, if I’m making myself clear. He deserves to be put down like a dog and I’m going to be the one to do it to him.”

Eyes squeezed shut but fully in consciousness, you can’t help but let out a giggle at Alphonse’s ridiculous comment.

Alphonse’s men exchange glances with one another before giving their boss a nod and exiting his office room—leaving just you and Alphonse alone in it.

Alphonse turns on his heel to face you laying upon the carpet, raising a brow. “I see Mrs. Ferrari-Corleone is awake now.” He speaks to you in a mocking and taunting tone as he walks over to where you lay.

Still, in pain from your throbbing gash which stings every time you move and raise your head, you can only tilt your head up slightly from the carpet—still letting out soft giggles.

“Is something amusing, sweetheart?” Alphonse stops right before you, looking down. “Or do you just enjoy being tied up like this?”

“You’re so fucking stupid.” You breathe out, surprising Alphonse with your words. “Put him down like a dog? Please.” You let out another laugh.

“I’m glad you find this funny, considering the little predicament you’re in.” Alphonse rolls his eyes, crouching down to you.

“Oh, cut the bullshit.” You glare at him, “I’ve been in worse situations.”

“Is that so?” Alphonse grabs a fistful of your hair, tugging it roughly and causing you to yelp out in pain. “I could have assumed that much, knowing you’re a Ferrari daughter and a Corleone wife, but how many times can you say you’ve been in such ‘situations’ pregnant?”

Instead of answering, you simply giggle again, smiling up at Alphonse but only meeting a scowl from him.

“I’ll have you know I’m a patient man,” Alphonse warns you, letting go of your hair. “But even I have a limit.”

“I don’t give a shit who you are or what you are.” You mutter back. “You’re a f-fucking failure to me.”

“Even though I have you here?” Alphonse scoffs. “You can downplay it all you want if that comforts you, darling.”

“If you weren’t a coward, you wouldn’t have tied me up, to begin with.” You grit your teeth.

“Believe me, baby,” Alphonse runs a hand through your hair as you struggle to pull away from him. “I’ve thought about doing that actually, but I don’t want to get into a scrap with you. I have a habit of breaking a lot more bones than I initially plan to. Instead, I’d rather see you tied up like this in that sexy nightgown of yours.” Alphonse gestures to your back where your wrists and ankles are bound together with rope. 

“Pervert.” You grunt out. “You’re sick.”

“Oh yeah?” Alphonse chuckles. “Then you slept rather soundly in this pervert’s bed last night. You know you could have just woken up and run off, right?” Alphonse’s taunts are nothing but an attempt to make you feel as he’d now describe like a ‘helpless whore’.

You rest your head back against the carpet—generally exhausted from trying to strain your muscles against the ropes. “I’m not stupid enough to do things that’ll get me killed. You know, considering I was unconscious due to a head wound or maybe being fucking drugged by something. Can’t exactly get up and leave when you want to.”

“Smart girl.” Alphonse stands upright, grinning at you. “You already knew what kind of state you were in, huh?”

“Do your worst.” You glower. 

“Maybe I will.” Alphonse snaps back. “You’re in no position to be talking to me like this.”

“Michael will do anything to you that you’ve already done to me,” you breathe out, “and trust me—he knows how to make it hurt a lot more.”

“Oh yeah?” Alphonse crosses his arms. “That’s nice, sweetheart. I guess we’ll have to see in about an hour or so what that pretty boy husband of yours is capable of truly doing. I have the upper hand here—I have all the men. This time he can’t attack and blow up this entire estate; not unless he wants to scrape off the ashes of his dead, pregnant wife for a second time.”

“So confident.” You mumble, “much more than the average street rat.”

Instantly pissed from the insult, Alphonse crouches back down and grabs your face roughly, forcing you to face him. “I didn’t fucking bring you here to insult me, Victoria. I can make you stop talking.”

“Do it.” Your breath hitches. “You could, but you won’t because you love hearing me talk.”

Right then and there, Alphonse’s expression warms into a smirk. “Yeah? Now you’re telling me the obvious, baby.”

“I’m not your fucking baby.” You form a quick wad of saliva in your mouth before spitting over Alphonse’s face.

“Fuck’s sakes!” Alphonse grunts, flinching and immediately raising his hand up to slap you but stopping himself.

“What’s the matter?” You taunt, having not moved a muscle. “Can't do it?”

Alphonse looks into your eyes, still noticing there are definitely the effects of the drug he injected you with still inside you. “Don’t push me, Ferrari. I still have a lot to talk to you about after I kill your husband.”

“My last name is Corleone.” You correct as Alphonse lets go of your face and move away from you. “As I s-said—do your worst. I’ll still be lying here laughing when you fail.”

“Ha,” Alphonse says sarcastically, reaching back for his cigar upon his desk. “You know you can say whatever you want now, honey. I do love a good conversation before we have to get down to business. And like you mentioned, maybe I do like the sound of your voice a little more than I should, and I certainly do love everything else about you.” Alphonse’s eyes greedily dart to the way your ass and thighs look bound up with rope. 

“Yeah, I bet you do.” You scowl against the carpet. “Considering this is as close to a woman you’ve ever gotten in our entire life.”

“Have quite the smart mouth, I see.” Alphonse comments, checking the time on his gold wristwatch.

“Fuck you.” You tilt your head away from him, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Tsk, tsk. Be patient, darling, you’ll be able to do so soon enough.” Alphonse shakes his head at you, leaning back to relax in his seat.

He wonders to himself if true fear will actually hit you once the boldness of the drugs is out of your system and Michael’s actually dead. Then Alphonse knows you’ll talk and do anything to save your baby’s life and your own.

~

Michael watches the sun begin to set beneath the lake, melting into the hue of the orange and pink sky from the boathouse otherwise crawling with security like the rest of the compound and surrounding lake.

Day or night—security is tripled as if there’s an active threat as Michael’s insistent on finding an invulnerability within the compound itself and signs of betrayal.

While getting you back home safe and sound is Michael’s only goal and intention, it’ll mean nothing if there’s a way it can repeated at your own home again.

Michael’s seeing nothing but red just thinking about how this was done at his own home with you as one of the targets, and he hasn’t let the fact that there’s a traitor on the inside—whether it’s one of his own men or family—evade him either.

Michael can be a patient, calm and understanding man, but he despises it when his control is compromised. 

Michael never came to believe he or any of his homes have vulnerabilities, but it’s not like he considers you collateral damage either.

While Alphonse believes all of this will provide him with the perfect opportunity to kill Michael and ruin the Corleone family name with it, Michael knows this will be the first major blood spill of an entire crime family and the worst since he had all of his enemies killed on his honeymoon with you in Sicily.

As a result, every action Michael takes will send shockwaves throughout the country to the other crime families, and consequences—if any—will be felt later, but devastatingly.

Now as Michael remains still with his hands clasped behind his back, watching the security boat roaming over the lake, his mind is on the twins who are with the governess and doing their daily studies for the day.

Niccolo and Verona are both still under the impression that their mother is by their grandmother’s side at the hospital and will be back soon; a promise Michael personally made to them.

Michael’s thoughts are momentarily interrupted by a knock on the door of the boathouse. He neither reacts nor moves a muscle, already expecting Sonny, Tom, your father, and your older brothers. “Come in.”

While Tom leads the way into the boathouse first, opening the door, he politely stands back and allows Giuseppe to enter first, then himself alongside everyone else.

No greetings are given nor is another word spoken; several pairs of footsteps can only be heard inside from the men as the door shuts behind them by one of Michael’s guards.

Visibly stressed and with no intention to hide it, Lorenzo’s been smoking a cigarette since before entering the compound. His only worry is about you as his sister—Lorenzo couldn’t give a fuck personally about Alphonse Ricci or any of his antics.

Lorenzo for one would like to strangle Alphonse to death himself, but he knows he has no power or influence whatsoever while in Lake Tahoe—let alone in this situation because of Michael.

All the men in the boathouse including Michael know very well that kidnapping a “civilian”—otherwise known as someone who is not involved in business—has led to devastating consequences for the mafia in general regardless of family or location and perpetrators have ended up regretting it in heinous ways. 

Whether the other crime families speak out about what’s to come or verbally support Michael’s movements against Alphonse matters very little to everyone in the room; they’ll all come to thank Michael and be grateful in the end for putting the nuisance of Alphonse Ricci out of his misery.

Michael only turns back to face Giuseppe, shaking his father-in-law’s hand as Giuseppe enters. 

Calm, cool, and reserved like Michael is, Giuseppe’s eyes still show he’s bitter and emotionally exhausted due to this whole sordid affair; a look Michael knows and feels well too.

As the men take their seats over the leather couches across from one another, Al Neri moves towards the bar quietly to prepare drinks.

Michael turns around to face his brothers and brothers-in-law only when he hears them sitting down comfortably. Michael’s the last to join them, taking his seat on the last remaining armchair in the midst of both couches.

“Don Ferrari,” Michael speaks softly, wanting to hear from him first.

“Michael.” Giuseppe clears his throat. “Simply put, my boys and I know what we need to do and how to do it.” Giuseppe’s attention redirects to his sons one by one. “Lorenzo will go in unseen after the initial ambush. Matteo has prepared the vehicles for all of our men, and Alessio’s snipers will take care of the rest from far. I’ll have my own men surround the place with yours on the lookout both inside and outside.”

Your brothers glance up at Michael for confirmation as Al Neri sets down a tray of iced whiskey for everyone on the coffee table. 

“It’s best if we act as soon as possible—tonight before this ‘time limit’ Alphonse has given us,” Leonardo speaks up.

“We won’t,” Michael replies flatly, taking a drink off the tray.

Annoyance instantly twists over Lorenzo’s facial expression whereas Matteo and Alessio exchange glances with one another. Michael is just aware of how your father eyes Lorenzo to calm his temper, whereas Tom and Sonny haven’t spoken a single word until now.

“Mike,” Sonny raises his brows at Michael, perhaps the only one able to ask him such a question due to being his eldest brother, “are you crazy? We’ve got the muscle, the location, and the men—”

“We won’t go,” Michael repeats firmly, taking a sip of his whiskey. “Not yet.”

Lorenzo puts out his cigarette, refusing to look at Michael. “And your reasoning behind that is?”

“Alphonse wants us there, and he wants us now,” Michael explains, holding his drink above his lap. “I’m not going to eat out of his hand and give him the benefit of the doubt.” Lorenzo’s opinions in general are unimportant enough to Michael that Michael’s barely ever bothered to even face him when speaking. 

Giuseppe remains silent and patient, only wishing to listen to Michael as the rest of your brothers take their drinks just as quietly.

“We’ll go on my word or we won’t go at all,” Michael adds.

“Surely you don’t need me to remind you that my sister’s life is on the line, Don Corleone.” Matteo frowns, heavily disapproving of Michael’s plan.

“No, I don’t need you to,” Michael says back casually.

Tom clears his throat and shifts in his seat uncomfortably. “Um, respectfully, Matteo, we have no reason to believe Victoria’s life is actually on the line.”

Lorenzo practically scowls at Tom’s words as Alessio adds his opinion. “She’s being used as leverage.”

“Correct.” Michael nods.

“I hate to think of it, but…” Sonny shakes his head. “If Victoria was going to be used as collateral damage to that fucker Alphonse, he would have most likely hurt her and we would have found out one way or another—on the phone or not. He would want us to know that.”

“So what, the best course of action is to just wait until that happens?” Lorenzo scoffs. 

“Who said that?” Leonardo frowns at his brother, nudging him. “Come on.”

“What if Alphonse sends us her fucking ear or a vial or her blood? Make her scream over the phone? Some macabre shit Alphonse has always been into?” Lorenzo continues, narrowing his eyes. “We need some sort of gruesome proof my sister is being tortured in order to act?”

“Idle threats will be made. That’s the least to be expected from a man like Alphonse.” Giuseppe sighs deeply, “And perhaps they’ll be made so believable they would spring any man into action immediately, but that is where none of us will make that mistake.” Giuseppe specifically eyes Lorenzo as he continues to speak. “Alphonse would not have done this if he feared Michael. He does not, and he doesn’t care about his own men dying at the hands of Michael either. He’s selfish. While the may suit him personally as a Don, it would be his own undoing if he had a shred of credibility to his family name.”

“Father’s right.” Leonardo agrees. “Alphonse resents Michael. If I didn’t know any better, I’d assume that’s all he’s consistently done over the past few years anyway. He wants to get a personal reaction out of Michael beyond what he’s seen already.”

Giuseppe raises his drink up to his lips. “He wants to see how Michael will react, nothing more. This is all some amusing little game to him.” He takes a small sip of his whiskey, savoring the taste on his tongue. “The real reason why Alphonse hasn’t tortured Victoria or done anything ‘gruesome’, is because of me. Our family. He fears me out of his fear and ‘respect’ that Alphonse claims to have for me despite kidnapping my daughter and more than likely hurting her in the process. I never had to say a word, I never had to raise a finger.” Giuseppe sets down his drink—his expression darkening. “Alphonse is showing me he feels this way about me because this is business with me but personal with Michael. Victoria’s his wife, but she’s my daughter. This is the truth.” Giuseppe gestures down at the table with his finger. “Alphonse has a lot on the line—a lot he can lose and he knows this. Right now, all he’s done is place himself in a limbo of instability. He can lose everything or I can guarantee his wins. He’s gambling with the life of my daughter but he shows how to make the cogs in his little machine work, otherwise, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” 

The room remains silent except for the clinking of whiskey glasses and cigarettes being lit as everyone continues listening to Giuseppe. “Alphonse bought Barzini and Tattaglia’s respect with money and luxury he never worked for. His father bought him the very red carpet he trampled his own dirt on years later. But after he fell out with two of the most powerful Dons at the time and with the Corleone’s shift of power, Alphonse lost everything. Right now, what he’s regained he can lose again. It’s nothing but money and his life. For as long as Victoria is Michael’s wife, Alphonse cannot lose her either. He can’t lose what he’s never had.”

“All he did was grow up the eldest son to a mobster who actually made his bones in New York and Sicily.” Matteo rolls his eyes. “His father was a real man—that I could respect.”

“But being born the son of a Don doesn’t make you a mafioso.” Giuseppe relaxes against his seat. “There’s nothing credible to show Alphonse has even made his bones. When and how did it happen? Questions I don’t personally care about.” He holds up his hand, shaking his head. “Alphonse thinks he’s in our world and that he’s one of us, but he’s never seen it. He’s never tasted what it’s like to be a mafioso. People mistake Alphonse regularly for a buttonman a con, a spoiled son of a dead man so he’s desperate to fit into a world that never had the mold for someone like him, to begin with. He behaves foolishly and erratically yet at the same time you cannot blame him because he never entered our world, to begin with. He doesn’t respect or abide by our code because he doesn’t know the code. The only thing I can give Alphonse credit for is that he’s a goddamn phoenix. He rises from his own pitiful ashes no matter how bad the last downfall was. I know men who would have killed themselves after that humiliating stunt with Barzini and Tattaglia. He carries on, however. He knows I can change his life, and bring him into my world. Only I can do that alone.”

“So then if Alphonse takes Michael out of the picture…” Sonny begins, “then I guess he’d really have ‘made his bones’.”

“That’d make him a true gangster to be feared, yes,” Giuseppe replies. “Unlike Alphonse, I have a choice. I don’t grant out mobster titles or redemption—this isn’t charity work. I’ve seen types like him before all my life, albeit much quieter and bigger failures. I’ve dealt with them all the same. I prefer they disappear. This all goes back to Michael’s plan.”

“So,” Matteo clears his throat, folding his hands on his lap. “If Victoria isn’t some sort of ‘collateral damage’ to Alphonse, then mother was certainly a target.”

“Shut up.” Alessio nudges Matteo harshly. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Michael raises a brow, his curiosity growing. “I’m interested in what made you think that.”

“She was shot and now she’s in the hospital getting a poisoned bullet out of her body,” Matteo says sarcastically. “I think that’s quite obvious.”

“Your mother wasn’t targeted.” Al Neri suddenly speaks up by the bar. 

Heads turn towards Al Neri who first glances at Michael, seeing approval to speak further through his eyes.

“Excuse me?” Matteo scowls. “I don’t recall anyone asking for your opinion here.”

“I’m the one who secured the study.” Al Neri continues, ignoring Matteo outright. “I found out just how your mother got shot, so I believe I have more than enough authority to speak on the matter. Your mother wasn’t targeted in the least bit, Matteo. She was the collateral damage.”

Lorenzo appears just as offended as Matteo, but both give Al Neri silence as their response.

“Is that what you really think?” Lorenzo licks off the whiskey from his lips.

“It’s what I know.” Neri reaffirms, taking a step out of the bar. “I saw and picked up the fragments of the bullets scattered in the study.” Neri specifically emphasizes the plural of ‘bullet’. “They were all shot out in a panic of trying to shoot Don Corleone and Mrs. Corleone because the assassination attempt was fixated all on the first floor. Mrs. Ferrari simply happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. She was never a target, and the bullet never directly hit her. It skimmed her side and left a fragment.”

“Yes, all of that is correct.” Giuseppe glumly agrees. “It’s tragic, but it’s separate from what’s happened with Victoria. Believe me,” he shoots a look at Matteo. “Those who were involved with your mother’s injury will pay dearly regardless. For now, we can only hope she heals and recovers well with the best doctors in Nevada looking after her. Now, if you would excuse us.” Giuseppe gestures for his sons to leave the boathouse. 

Matteo puts his arm over Lorenzo’s shoulder as they rise from their seats, making their way out of the boathouse in silence. No further words are spoken until the door shuts yet again.

“Michael,” Giuseppe faces his son-in-law. “You’re a smart, young man. I trust you as my son-in-law and as my favorite business partner. I always have. I know you won’t ever let any harm come to my daughter and you don’t trust that viper’s words when it comes to her either.”

“I knew you’d seen it my way, Don Ferrari.” Michael forces a small smile at his father-in-law. “This is no longer just about Victoria, but our baby too. It’s two people we’re protecting; my wife and the future of this family. So we’ll wait.”

~

[ Afternoon Hours ]

Time, silence, and lack of inaction all speak for themselves. The afternoon is halfway over and Alphonse is more than aware he’s heard nothing from Michael or his men whatsoever, let alone have him rush into Silver City to come to get you. 

Michael’s not coming for you. Nobody is, no matter what you keep assuming.

Your lack of appetite doesn’t surprise Alphonse who offered you numerous gourmet meals periodically throughout the day, but you’ve accepted water as the only kindness from him.

Still, while you weren’t thinking about hunger for yourself, you were for your baby. As disgusting as it was to basically have Alphonse literally spoon-feeding you, at least it was a brief moment in time where Alphonse wasn’t irritating you with the sound of his voice.

You’re still relatively unharmed except for a bloody gash upon your forehead which only appears more prominent and fresh looking after it's cleaned; something that only pisses Alphonse off further with his men.

After leaving you bound up on the carpet to enjoy lunch with his men, Alphonse enters his office room with a refreshed look on his face—stretching out his arms. 

Appearing very relaxed and content, Alphonse turns his attention to you upon the rug almost instantly. “Hello again, darling. Hope you didn’t miss me too much.”

“Leave me alone.” You grumble, forcing yourself not to move as much as possible from how heavily the ropes dig into the bruised rings around your wrists and ankles.

“Ah, come on, sweetheart.” Alphonse pushes an armchair over to where you lay, sitting down on it and folding one knee above the other. “Mm, that’s much better. You know, last night could have been so much more fun if your husband just showed his face.”

“Fuck you.” You scowl up at Alphonse.

“Nice to see you too, baby.” Alphonse chuckles. “Relax. Everything’s going to be all over soon.”

“If by ‘all over’ you mean with your death, then by all means I await it.” You rest your cheek against the Persian rug. “Otherwise I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

Alphonse gazes down at you, fake pouting. “Don Corleone was supposed to be on his way to rescue you and ‘exact revenge on me. How tragic.” He bursts out into laughter, “yeah, for him it is at least. It’s a no man’s land here, baby. All desert. Empty. No trees or anything for miles and miles, and I know this place like the back of my hand.” Alphonse points at the back of his hand, giving it a pat. 

“Of course you do.” You roll your eyes back at him. “I can tell this place is a forgotten wasteland without even having to look outside, so who would be surprised you’re here?”

“Please.” Alphonse scoffs. “I could say I’m not surprised by your attitude either but it’s fine, I’ll let it slide because you’re going to become a widow tonight.”

“Funny joke.” You speak against the carpet. “Too bad it’ll never happen.”

Alphonse gives you a wink, smiling warmly. “I like your optimism, baby. It’s going to turn me on a little bit breaking your heart tonight.”

‘And if this disgusting bastard’s plans actually worked out? Then what…?’ You think to yourself, staring up at him. ‘He’s so confident.’

“Word will spread like wildfire that your husband is dead, first of all.” Alphonse pats the armrest of his seat. “That’s going to be a hell of an afterparty we, unfortunately, don’t have too much time for. Your father will want to see me negotiate business that’ll now be completely unavoidable to him, so,” Alphonse pushes his seat back, crouching down in front of you. “You won’t have to worry about a thing, baby. I’m going to take very good care of you.” He brushes back a curtain of your hair behind your ear. “Just like how I would have if you married me back then. It’s okay, though.” Alphonse gently rests his index finger against your lips to silence you. “We all make stupid decisions, but at least you won’t regret this one. For starters, never will your life be in danger ever again.”

You jerk your head away from Alphonse, sneering. “My life is in fucking danger right now because of you, asshole.”

Alphonse laughs, shaking his head. “Aww, baby. What danger? You lying on the ground on my favorite Persian rug is called ‘being in danger’? You and that little baby growing inside of you are just fine, protected by all my best men. If I know you well—and I do—” Alphonse leans in closer to your face, “you like danger. And that was all last night.”

“What are you going to do then, huh?” You narrow your eyes at him.

“Oh, nothing.” Alphonse shrugs his shoulders carelessly. “Just that first you’ll marry me and I know your father will be supportive—if not extremely eager to do so. Then I’ll adopt those twins of yours from the goodness of my heart and erase that Corleone name off of you three. It’ll take some time but the twins will call me their father soon enough.”

You force yourself not to headbutt Alphonse directly in the face, almost shaking with anger now. “That’ll never happen, you sick fuck.”

Alphonse rolls his eyes, pulling back. “Where’s your optimism now, darling? You’d rather I put a bullet in you and Michael’s heads and let your children become orphans?”

“Yes!” You snap back.

Alphonse stifles back a laugh, grinning at you with wild amusement. He cups your face forcefully before directly kissing your gash—causing you to cry out and pull your head back. “You’ve always had a flair for the dramatic, Victoria, but with a big bump like that on your head, I know you can’t think clearly. It’s okay.” 

Alphonse nudges your head back down to the carpet. “It’ll all make sense to you in a few days. This is pretty big, I understand, and as for that baby of yours…” Alphonse slides his hand underneath your stomach, forcing you to flip onto your back. “Uh huh…”

You tense up from the sudden movements but for the sake of your baby’s safety and health, you don’t bother to fight or move back; your lack of response is noticed and approved by Alphonse.

“He or she will grow up knowing I’m their father, but the next time you get pregnant, it’ll be our child.” Alphonse smiles, admiring your tiny baby bump. “And well, we’ll have a few more too. One big happy family, as they say.”

“You’re a sick fucking bastard!” You snap out, squirming back down onto your stomach. “I wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole even if my life depended on it.”

“It just might if you keep talking like this.” The smile fades off of Alphonse’s face as he nudges your gash harshly.

“Ahhh!” You cry out in pain, trying to pull your head away from him. 

“Be nice to me, Victoria.” Alphonse’s voice begins to grow low and demanding. “I won’t have to hurt your feelings and break every bone in your body if you’re nice to me. Now.” Alphonse pulls back to sit back on his armchair. “We have much to talk about, you and I, and you’re going to give me the answers I want, right?”

“And if I don’t?” You grit your teeth, still squirming in pain from your throbbing head. 

Alphonse sighs loudly, crossing his arms. “Baby, you already know what’s going to happen to you yet you ask me to repeat it. You like hearing my voice, huh?”

“Nothing about you is clear or certain.” You shudder over the carpet. “Considering your repeat history of failures.”

“Yeah?” Alphonse raises both of his brows. “I guess I don’t mind repeating myself to you about what I’m going to do if you don’t talk. Let me put it this way, sweetheart.” Alphonse pulls out a switchblade from his outer suit pocket before kneeling back down in front of you, aiming it for your face.

You neither flinch nor react when the blade snaps out and almost brushes up against your face—impressing Alphonse tenfold. “Uh-huh, I see. Father taught you not to be afraid of knives either, huh? Well, how about like this, then?” He points the switchblade to your baby bump, causing you to flinch.

“Bingo,” Alphonse smirks, moving the switchblade back up to your face. “Now, you start talking and giving me answers, and in return, I won’t make you cry and carve up your baby or that pretty face of yours. Shall we get started?”

As you feel the side of the cold, sharp blade pressing up against your cheek, true fear hits you from the possibility of Alphonse quite literally harming your baby and killing you in the process with his sick mutilation teasing. 

‘Where are you, Michael?’ A single tear rolls down your cheek out of fear as you swallow hard. ‘Where are you, my love?’ But what you don’t know is that Michael isn’t coming for you.

~

Seeking comfort and solace from last night in the garden with her husband, all Connie can do is bring herself to tears again and again—unable to stop herself from crying.

Connie sits on the rattan garden bench she’d always share with you while the two of you tended to the garden, now next to her husband Leonardo comforting her.

Leo holds Connie in his arms, rubbing up and down her arms to comfort his wife but letting her release her emotions and cry out without stopping her.

Tears spill down Connie’s cheeks as she clutches onto Leo for comfort, feeling his warm lips kissing her forehead. “It’s alright, darling. Everything’s going to be alright.”

“B-but it’s my fault.” Connie hiccups, still unable to live with her guilt. “It’s—”

“Nobody’s fault, baby.” Lorenzo gazes at Connie’s red, splotchy face from sobbing as he shakes his head. “Absolutely none of this is your fault. We’re going to get through this together, and Victoria’s going to be back safe and sound before any of us even know it.”

“But I-I should have tried harder to keep her there!” Connie cries out, unable to push out the blame on herself after Michael practically embedded it in her with his shouting.

“Baby, baby.” Leo cups Connie’s face gently, looking into her eyes. “Listen, sweetheart. I know my sister well and when Victoria has something on her mind, nobody can stop her. Not me, not you, and not even Michael no matter what we’d be inclined to believe. Nobody’s words would hold her back.”

Connie sniffles, pausing for a moment as tears roll down her cheeks. “Sounds like Victoria, alright… She’s a f-fighter.”

“She is.” Leo agrees.

“I just hope…” Connie lets out a weak sigh, “I just hope Victoria’s fighting now and that she’s okay.”

“Believe me, honey,” Leo wipes off a stray tear from Connie’s cheek with his thumb. “If anyone’s fighting, it’s her. Victoria’s going to be okay and all of this will be over soon. I know how you feel—I’m much too impatient myself and I can’t stop thinking about it, but we’re going to get Victoria back. No exceptions.”

“Y-yeah but Leo,” Connie hiccups, “Victoria’s pregnant too.”

“I know, but so are you.” Leo places his hand over Connie’s month-old, small baby bump. “And I hate to have you and our little baby too stressed. I want to comfort you both.” He leans down, kissing the bump.

Connie smiles weakly at her husband, lacing a hand on Leo for reassurance. “Theresa was saying the same thing all morning.”

“How’s she taking it, baby?” Leo leans back up, holding Connie’s hand.

“Not well either.” Connie shakes her head, clearing her throat. “You know… That Sollozzo guy took Tom back in 1946? Theresa…she thought she would never see Tom again. And well, you know what happened to Sollozzo after.”

“Same thing is coming for Alphonse and is men,” Leo murmurs, planting a soft kiss over both of Connie’s hands. “Trust me.”

“That relieves me, strangely enough,” Connie admits glumly. “I really don’t want to be a part of whatever Michael’s doing, ever, and I didn’t want the same with papa either. But maybe I’m too harsh on Michael.”

“What do you mean exactly?” Leo continues gently rubbing over Connie’s baby bump.

“Sometimes I think of Michael as insufferable.” Connie shrugs her shoulders, glancing down at her baby bump. “Because of the man he’s become but I think he’s just trying to be strong for all of us, you know? It’s not easy. And now… Michael’s pregnant wife is kidnapped and as much as I don’t want to think about it, they probably hurt her, Leo. I know she wouldn’t just let anyone lay a finger on h-her without putting up a fight.”

“Exactly, I know.” Leo nods, frowning. 

“I’m just worried for Michael.” Connie’s eyes meet up with Leo’s. “I-I don’t know what all of this will do to him. He’s… He’s always so cold and serious, so stern. Nothing gets past him, he refuses to be any other way. Now, this is getting too personal. I don’t think it matters if Victoria’s alive or not at the moment, Michael’s never going to recover from this. His humanity’s never going to recover from this.” Connie’s voice begins to shake as her throat tightens. “Because t-that’ll be three women in Michael’s love life that are dead or hurt in some sort of way because of him.”

~

[ Lake Tahoe Estate Docks, Early Evening Hours ]

With a perfect view of his yacht docked by the boathouse and the beautiful, glistening lake before him, Michael watches as the last of the sunlight begins to melt into the sky from his patio table.

Since Verona had an accident where she slipped off the deck in the past, Michael’s made sure now that both the docks and the edge of the lake are properly secured for safety.

Michael remains alone, drinking a cup of black coffee as best as he can “enjoy” it—only doing so to push aside how physically and mentally exhausted he’s been for the past two days.

Michael hasn’t diverted his gaze from the lake since he’s sat down, raising his coffee cup to his lips then back down again and again—completely unhappy and numb of any emotion.

Verona steps outside of the central family estate—just having finished her one-on-one studies with the governess. 

The sight of her father just across by the docks, dressed in a three-piece navy suit is one Verona will always be able to happily spot.

While Michael doesn’t notice Verona’s presence out on the estate grounds, Verona excitedly makes her way over to her father and calls out for him. “Daddy, hiiiii!”

Michael turns his head at the sound of his daughter’s voice, noticing Verona waving at him as she skips up to the docks. 

Michael waves back at Verona, watching now as she slows down her pace as she approaches the docks and begins to walk the rest of the way over to her father—remembering the little accident she had there before.

“Hi, daddy.” Verona greets Michael again, happily standing by the table.

“Hi, darling.” A faint smile forms over the corners of Michael’s mouth as he sets down his coffee cup. “How were your studies?”

“Good, goooooood.” Verona tightens the silk ribbons in her hair. “I just finished!”

“Done for the rest of the day?” Michael rests the side of his face against his fist; his elbow propped up against the armrest of his seat.

“Yeah.” Verona lets out a soft sigh, still smiling at her father. “I miss mama. I wish I could see her for my break time.”

“Me too, honey. Me too. But she’s with a great doctor and your grandmother right now.” Michael lies.

It’s not that Michael hates lying, but he prefers not to do so to his children unless necessary. He’s so used to lying at this point that he doesn’t feel anything towards it anymore—it doesn’t even feel wrong.

Verona nods back at her father, completely understanding. “I bet there’s a lot of great doctors just like Doctor Katherine there.”

“Without a doubt.” Michael straightens his posture over his seat, gesturing to his lap. “Come here.”

Giggling, Verona eagerly gets up on Michael’s lap as he wraps a protective arm around his daughter—seeing how interested Verona grows in Michael’s coffee cup upon the table. “Ooooh, daddy is drinking that coffee stuff again.”

Michael chuckles quietly. “Yes, but there’s no need to wonder about the taste.”

“Why not?” Verona asks curiously. “Is it not that…aaaah, ‘decaf’, no anti-sleepy time coffee?”

“Not this time.” Michael shakes his head. 

“Why, daddy?” A frown immediately breaks over Verona’s face. “That stuff in coffee is bad for you, and this too!” She points at Michael’s cigarette pack on the edge of the table. “All very, very bad!”

“True, you’re very right. My apologies.” Michael pushes aside the cigarette pack, gesturing to the coffee. “What about my coffee? Can I still have it?”

“Hmm…” Verona ponders the question as Michael takes another sip of his coffee, looking at her for approval. “Daddy works too hard and looks kinda sleepy.” Verona giggles, facing her father. “Today you can have some of that coffee stuff.”

“Thank you for your concern.” Michael hides his smile behind his coffee cup, taking another sip. 

“I wanna make sure everyone’s happy and healthy.” Verona snuggles up to Michael’s chest, hugging her father. “Allll the time.”

Michael puts his empty coffee cup down, kissing Verona’s forehead. “Looks like we definitely have a future doctor here, don’t we?”

“Maybe one day.” Verona gives her father a beaming smile. “Would you support me, daddy?”

“Of course, I would. Your mother and I will always support both you and your brother without a doubt.” Michael tells her.

Verona giggles to herself and hugs Michael again. “Daddy, I have a secret to tell you.”

Michael can sense the eagerness in his daughter’s tone of voice. “Hmm? What is it?”

“I’ll tell you.” Verona whispers, leaning up, but before Michael can wait to hear her say anything in his ear, Verona smooches her father’s cheek instead. “There. A kiss for daddy.”

A rare, full smile crosses Michael’s lips as he looks back at Verona. At the very least, Michael knows his children are still safe and happy, and he’d be lying to himself if he didn’t think Verona’s optimism—whom she very clearly got from you—isn’t giving him a semblance of hope. 

“I love you lots, daddy.” Verona hugs Michael’s arm, resting her head against it. “Lots and lots!”

“I love you too, honey,” Michael tells her as he tilts his chair to fully face the view of the lake with Verona.

“Lots and lots?” Verona’s eyes wander over the beautiful, glistening waters of Lake Tahoe before her.

“Lots and lots.” Michael nods, relaxing his muscles against his seat and watching the flow of the lake.

Verona enjoys the view next to her father for a few moments; feeling a warm breeze flowing through her hair and giving a sense of pure relaxation to the two of them who can’t possibly feel its full effects considering the circumstances at hand.

The gentle grasp Verona has while hugging Michael’s army begins to grow shaky a few minutes later, and six-year-old Verona can’t stop her eyes from tearing up while thinking about just how much she misses you, and how she’s worried for the health of her grandmother too.

Without having to look down and see her tears, Michael can already sense his daughter growing upset in his arms. 

He neither blames her nor does he call it out, knowing Verona’s feelings are valid and if anything, he’d prefer her to cry and express her sadness than keep it all inside like Michael does personally.

Michael strokes Verona’s hair gently, soothing her until her tears come to a stop. Being in her father’s presence and looking out onto the calming view, Verona feels safe, protected, and comforted by Michael—watching the day slowly come to an end.

While Michael can think of nothing but you, especially from Verona’s resemblance to you, his heart remains firm in decision that he’s not going to come to get you just yet, nor has he sent out the men for tonight. He will continue to wait for as long as he feels necessary. 

~

[ Silver City, Alphonse Ricci’s Manor]

Aware of the time himself, Alphonse cuts to the chase by revealing one of his main intentions and priorities for kidnapping you in the first place; questions he demands answers to that only you can give.

“Hell of a mafia wife, aren’t you?” Alphonse chuckles to himself, once again sitting before you and admiring the way his switchblade looks up against your skin.

You shudder from the touch of the cold metal over your cheek, not in fear for yourself but only for your baby.

You think to yourself that a sick fuck like Alphonse will no doubt only try to scare and threaten you with his switchblade, but then hit your actual vulnerability—your unborn baby inside of you or at least around it; a fear tactic your father taught you.

Had you not been pregnant, Alphonse may have just already stabbed you in your back or somewhere you’re neither expecting nor able to protect from how you’re tightly bound.

You know these types of intimidation tactics well—basic mobster wannabee actions that are mostly talk and the rest hope. 

You already know that if a real, powerful Don actually wanted answers out of you, you would have already been severely hurt by now and how is another question of gruesomeness you don’t want to think about right now.

“Is that supposed to be a question or what?” You force yourself not to roll your eyes back.

“It’s a good thing that your pretty little mouth is moving so I don’t have to do things the hard way,” Alphonse replies with a smile. 

“I thought this was the hard way.” You eye the blade held against your cheek.

“You flatter me, honey.” Alphonse smirks wryly, “but I’ve gotten a little too used to teasing you with my favorite blade, and since you’re being such a good girl and cooperating…” He pulls back the switchblade.

“Don’t call me a ‘good girl’ or any of that shit.” You narrow your eyes.

“Maybe I won’t as long as you can keep that attitude to yourself.” Alphonse cautions you. “Now, you know how this works. You answer my questions and—”

“Yeah, yeah.” You grunt out, “save your speech. I know what you want.”

“Do you?” Alphonse raises his brows. “Must have been waiting then, huh?”

“The element of surprise really isn’t your advantage here.” You scowl.

“Ah, that’s funny.” Alphonse stretches out his arms with a grunt. “The last time I checked, you were taken here in the blink of an eye before you could suspect anything. Seems like a hell of a surprise if you ask me.”

“Sure, if we think about the technicalities.” You tilt your head up to look at Alphonse. “But everyone knows you did it, so where’s the fun in that? Was your intent really to get caught so quickly? Or did you think we’d blame another mobster?”

Alphonse sighs dramatically. “I’m going to be the one asking the questions, darling. This is about you, not me.”

You roll your eyes at Alphonse’s response out of irritation, but he notices immediately. “You know I can make things a lot worse for you right here, right now.”

“I find it amusing that you think you have the power to ruin my life.” You snap back. 

“Oh, don’t I?” Alphonse points at his chest. “I’m a walking blackmail machine, baby.”

“Great.” You reply, “then you must know just about everything on anyone, huh?”

“That’s right.” Alphonse grins.

“That’s a fantastic way to get yourself killed.” You tell him. “What mobster would want someone like you alive?”

“I’ll tell you exactly why.” Alphonse tosses his switchblade up in the air, catching it back upright before pointing it between your eyes. “Because the Barzinis and Tattaglias gave up on me a long time ago thanks to your fucking husband. What he doesn’t know however is that he actually did me a favor. Let’s hope all that power hasn’t gotten into Michael’s head because the crime families fear him more than they admire him. Nobody’s going to rush to Michael’s rescue if something happens to him. Everyone will be sitting tight and watching just as they’re all going to do so tonight. Nobody’s going to kill me, Victoria.” Frustration grows in Alphonse’s voice. I have the upper hand here, otherwise, you’d be dead already.”

“Oh yeah?” You raise your head up shakily, revealing your gash between peeks of your hair. “Why the hell am I not dead yet?”

“Honey, if you have a death wish, that’s your own personal problem.” Alphonse tosses his switchblade up in the air, catching it upright. “If I want to kill you, I’ll do it my way; fast or slow, and not when you request it. You’re more useful to me alive than dead right now but I have been known to change my mind.”

“Not a generous man, are you?” You say back sarcastically.

“I’m many things.” Alphonse gazes at you. “And you can get to know me all you want right here, right now.”

“I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” You spit out.

“No, you don’t.” Alphonse smiles sardonically at you. “And the more you learn about me, sweetheart, the less I need to learn about you because I know exactly who you are. You’re not just a mafia wife, you’re a whole lot more than you give away.”

“You don’t even know where to begin to figure me out.” You say through gritted teeth.

“You’d be surprised as to how much I know about you.” Alphonse leans in closer, lowering his tone to a husky whisper. “I’ve had pictures of you all over my walls since 1949.”

“You’re sick,” you hiss, trying to pull away from him.

“You call it sick and depraved, I call it admiration.” Alphonse reaffirms. “You’re a beautiful woman, you know that? You haven’t even aged a bit. I know you take care of yourself very well, even after two kids and now on your third… Yeah.” With his free hand, Alphonse tilts your face to the side, but his eyes land on your baby bump instead. 

You pretend you don’t notice Alphonse’s steady gaze, fearing you’ll only give him the reaction he’s looking for to harm your baby in any kind of way. 

“You have that motherly glow,” Alphonse murmurs quietly. “Barely pregnant, but it’s there.” He pulls back his hand. “We’ll see it again when you carry my child. That’s when you’ll be the most beautiful, you know. As beautiful as any cold-blooded killer can be.” Alphonse’s eyes flash with amusement. “That’s what you are, isn’t it?”

“Couldn’t I ask you the same question?” You breathe out.

“Maybe.” Alphonse shrugs his shoulders carelessly. “I can call myself a lot of things but you’re too cocky to admit you’re a murderer. You’re not just a killer, but you’re a corrupt lawyer. You negotiate in deals men don’t expect you to be in and then you get them all killed. You make damn good blood money and you move all the chess pieces around without anyone suspecting a thing. Nobody can do or say anything about you. I’ve already figured how well you play this role of supportive wife and dedicated lawyer, but you’re a true gangster.”

You keep your eyes locked on Alphonse, neither confirming nor denying the truth.

“It runs in your blood.” Alphonse rises up to his feet, clutching his switchblade and moving behind you.

You remain as perfectly still as you can and shiver yet again to feel the cold metal of Alphonse’s blade pressed up against one of your veins on your wrist. 

“What do you have to say for yourself?” Alphonse asks, running his hands over your skin.

“I’m nothing like you.” You wince, feeling your gash beginning to throb once again. 

“Oh, of course, you aren’t.” Alphonse lets out a laugh, walking back over to face you directly. “I’m not the one with Ferrari blood running through my veins now, am I? Our children will be lucky in that regard since they will. All I’m saying is that your little secret is out, Victoria. I’ve seen you in the pictures.”

“You don’t know anything about me.” You swallow hard, trying to ignore how badly the ropes tied around your wrists and ankles practically burn into your bruises.

“Like hell I don’t.” Alphonse scoffs, sitting on the carpet right in front of you. “The photographs speak for themselves, honey. I’ve seen them. You’re all dolled up next to that Corleone, then hidden just as Don Ferrari’s daughter, or so they say. You’re seen one day, then never again the next. I call bullshit on that. I recognize you like the back of my hand.”

“And what the hell are you going to gain for it?” You raise your voice, thoroughly sick and tired of hearing his.

“Everything. I have all the facts and information to not only bring your career to a fucking end but to imprison you for life. You’d never see your children again and you can give birth in a cold, shitty prison for all I care. Better yet, be put in the worst prison Nevada has to offer, like the shit hole you locked my brother up in.”

You burst out laughing, unable to take any of Alphonse’s words seriously. “Your brother was a dirty fucking street rat. He was messy, he got caught and I prosecuted him. It was nothing personal, you entitled piece of shit. Is his incompetence my fault?”

“Better wipe that fucking smirk off your face before I do,” Alphonse warns you, holding out his switchblade.

“Poor little boy.” You pout, mocking him. “You keep flaunting around that tiny shaving razor to threaten me but won’t MAN THE FUCK UP AND USE IT!”

In one swift movement, Alphonse pulls his hand back and slaps you across the face—causing you to squirm onto your side with a grunt.

“I can hurt you in a lot of other ways before giving you a painful death if you don’t do what I tell you to fucking do!” Alphonse shouts.

You crack a smile, laughing weakly. “Oh, you’ll have to do a lot more than that, I’m afraid. Did you really just bring me here to reminisce about the successes of my life and the failure of yours?”

“No, you know what you’re fucking here for!” Seething with anger, Alphonse is in no further mood for games.

“Yeah, yeah,” you force yourself back onto your stomach. “Fucking enlighten me then so we can get this over with.”

“I want to know about the Tropigala.” Anger flashes in Alphonse’s eyes as he slows down his speech, making sure you hear every word carefully. “I want to know who made the deal, who signed it, and why that hotel was taken from me without a single word even though my family’s name was all over it. I want to know who paid off the license, where the money went, EVERYTHING! I want to know the shareholders name by name.”

You remain quiet for a moment, unphased by Alphonse entirely. Your eyes dart back down to the carpet out of disinterest as you simply say, “omertà.”

Alphonse raises both of his brows at you, repeating, “omertà? You think this is some kind of fucking joke?”

“Omertà,” you repeat, louder.

Omertà is the cold silence amongst Mafiosi; a code of honor. No questions or information of any kind about the family business is ever uttered, no cooperation with outsiders, authorities, or men like Alphonse for that matter. 

Nothing is given but silence, and you will never give Alphonse the answers about what Michael did with the Tropigala even if it means your death. 

You swore the code of silence to yourself and your family when you made your bones as a mafiosa and you understood it far before you were even involved in the family business.

“You know about Michael’s deal, Victoria.” Alphonse scowls down at you. 

“Maybe.” You smile up at Alphonse innocently. “But that’s really none of your business, is it?”

“Won’t talk, huh?” Alphonse eyes the reddened mark growing over your cheek from where he slapped you. “Maybe that Corleone slaps you so much in bed you actually enjoy it. I’ll have to try something else.”

“’Cause, you’re a wife beater?” You scoff. “All that talk about marrying me and putting a baby in me but all you want to do is bruise and hurt me. How’s that going to look in any publicity photographs?”

Alphonse blinks at you in confusion, shaking his head. “You’re the one making me do this.”

“I’m doing no such thing.” You gesture down to the carpet with your chin. “I’m laying here on your favorite Persian rug. I’m exhausted, starving, my body aches all over and you’ve bruised and hurt me. I’ve been like this since you brought me here, so tell me what I’ve honestly done to you from down here that’s intimidated you so much?”

Alphonse lets out a long, drawn-out sigh. He gazes at you momentarily, noticing your expression has softened from bitter to exhausted once again. 

“All really good questions.” Alphonse reaches out his hand towards you, caressing your face gently. “I have the time to answer them, you know. No point in trying to make this quick, and you know why?” A smile breaks out on Alphonse’s face before he bursts out in laughter, startling you a little. “Because!” He throws his hands up in the air, “that husband of yours isn’t coming here for you after all! My men have this place cornered and he’s still nowhere to be found, baby. Don’t you know what time it is?”

“What?” You shudder out, feeling dread beginning to trickle inside you from realizing Alphonse is right.

“I’ve given him a deadline and he didn’t even bother to show yesterday.” Alphonse pats his gold wristwatch. “No sign of him today either on his last day, so Michael is most certainly not coming to get you, honey. So, what do you say?” Alphonse snaps his finger, gesturing to one of his capos.

The man who mocked you at the front door and shoved you in here in the first place rises from his seat by the fireplace, pulling the telephone off of Alphonse’s office desk and over to him.

“Let’s give Don Corleone a courtesy call, shall we?” Alphonse takes the telephone from him, setting it down. “He forgot to pick up his own wife!” Still laughing, Alphonse begins to dial the number. “Maybe I’ll even let you talk to him.” Alphonse winks at you. “We’ll give him a call to remember.”

~

[ Lake Tahoe Estate Docks, Evening Hours ]

“Soooo many fishies in the water, daddy!” Verona points towards the lake, spotting the silhouette of a lake trout not far from the docks. “Look!”

“That’s right.” Michael looks over into the water with his daughter sitting on his lap. “Now you know why your uncles don’t go anywhere else to fish.”

“There’s no need.” Verona giggles. “Not with this many fishies! What kinds are in there, daddy?”

“Well, lake trouts for sure, like that one right there.” Michael points out one of the fish. “But there are also rainbow trouts and brown trouts—”

“Rainbow trouts?!” Verona gasps, her eyes beaming with excitement. “Are they really colorful like that, daddy?”

“Not exactly.” Michael chuckles, “but up close you can definitely discern them from other trouts.”

“Wowie.” Verona claps her little hands together. “Uncle Fredo always goes fishing here on the docks, daddy. He says it’s his lucky spot.”

“Mhmm.” Michael relaxes back in his seat, taking a deep breath. “Do you have any interest in fishing, sweetheart?”

“Hmm.” Verona ponders the question, shrugging her shoulders. “Maaaaaybe. I like watching Uncle Fredo teach Niccolo because he really likes fishing, but the fishing stick thingys they use look so heavy!”

“It’ll be easier to get a hold of them once you two both grow older,” Michael tells her. “They’re very durable.”

“For the best of the best fishing trips!” Verona exclaims. “Maybe when I’m done my swimming lessons I’ll go fishing with them.”

“That sounds like a plan, darling.” Michael’s eyes wander to one of the boats his security pace along the lake, still on the lookout for any potentially suspicious activity.

“Do you fish, daddy?” Verona peeks back at her father.

“No.” Michael shakes his head, “I don’t really have an interest in it.”

“But daddy, you like seafood, right?” Verona pokes Michael’s arm.

“I do.” Michael gives Verona a faint smile. “Do you?”

“Yeah.” Verona nods, “fishies can be very tasty. I bet those fishies there are tasty.” She points again at a different fish disappearing into the depths of the lake.

Just as Michael redirects his attention back to the lake with Verona, he already hears a pair of very familiar footsteps behind him, and an instant annoyance settles into Michael. “Considering everything, Santino, could you not leave me to a moment of peace with my daughter?”

Verona’s eyes widen, surprised Michael heard Sonny approaching them in the first place. As she turns around, she immediately smiles at her uncle. “Hi, Uncle Sonny!”

“Hey, kiddo.” Sonny forces a warm smile at Verona before raking a hand through his curls. 

Michael can already tell Sonny’s very stressed by his body language alone, and can already guess what the premise of this conversation is going to be about. 

“Sorry, Mike.” Sonny clears his throat. “But A—” Sonny cuts himself off, knowing he can’t be giving away any detail of what’s really happening to Verona or any of the children for that matter. “Uh, Mr. Ricci is on the phone and he says it's urgent.”

Michael doesn’t budge, still keeping his gaze over the lake. “Alright. I’ll be there. Keep him on the line.” Only then does Michael glance over at Verona. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Daddy’s got some business to attend to again.”

“It’s okay,” Verona says, completely understanding as she hops off of Michael’s lap. “I can go wait inside, daddy. Maybe you can teach me to play chess again?”

“Absolutely.” Michael leans over, kissing his daughter’s forehead. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Okay, daddy. See you inside!” Verona happily rushes back off towards the estate as one of the security guards follows her at an appropriate distance just for the sake of safety.

While Sonny’s already halfway back towards the boathouse, Michael follows behind calmly with both hands in the pockets of his dress trousers.

There isn’t the least bit of concern or visible stress over either Michael’s facial expression or his body language; rather he appears more numb and unhappy than anything else as he follows Sonny back inside the boathouse.

From the moment Michael enters, he sees Tom across from him in the room holding up the telephone to his ear appearing unnerved and in a state of distress.

Even as Michael makes eye contact with his brother, Tom isn’t relieved in the slightest but looks all the tenser and burdened. 

“Look,” Tom gives out a sigh, “he’s here. You can talk to him now.” Tom holds out the telephone to Michael, almost desperate to let go of it.

Michael walks up to Tom and takes the telephone from him, holding it against his chest to silence any outgoing sound first. Michael doesn’t say a word to Tom but looks at his brother with expectant eyes that read: ‘is Victoria alright?’ 

Tom understands the look in Michael’s eyes, but he shakes his head and mouths back, “this is getting worse.”

Michael raises the telephone up to his ear, remaining silent a moment longer before finally speaking out. “This must be the only social interaction you’ve had all day. Why are you still calling me?”

Alphonse bursts out laughing on the other end of the phone, completely relaxed and even overjoyed in a way. “Did business get in the way, Don Corleone? You forgot to come get your precious wife.”

“I’m glad you find this amusing,” Michael says back sarcastically. “Who said I ‘forgot’ to do anything?”

“So are you aren’t coming then?” Alphonse’s irritating laughter comes to an end as he angles the telephone over his ear in such a way that you can also hear everything being said on both sides. 

“You’re a dead man either way.” Michael reminds him. “And you’re not getting anything you want. The sooner you accept this, the easier it’ll be for you.”

“Rather confident for a man who can’t reach me.” Alphonse rolls his eyes, speaking in a taunting tone. 

“You’re not untouchable, Alphonse,” Michael replies calmly, unphased. “You went through all this trouble to reach the line just to tell me you miss my presence after all.”

“Oh, please.” Alphonse snorts, sitting cross-legged on the Persian rug. “I’m just getting bored is all. You hear this, Corleone?” Alphonse flicks open his switchblade again, grazing the tip over the wooden floors next to him. “I know all sorts of ways to get your attention, and that’s a lot more than anyone else can say.”

“You thought wrong,” Michael replies, listening as keenly as he can to make out any sign of your presence next to Alphonse.

“Well then, let’s see when you come out of your little lair and face me like a real man. Since you’re taking your precious time, I might just have to show you how much fun I can have with your pretty life wife laying on the ground here next to me. She’s in that sexy nightgown, might I add—it flatters my switchblade.”

“Petty threats still aren’t beyond you, I see.” Michael rolls his eyes, still unmoved as he expected you to still be secured with Alphonse.

“I’m a man of my word and I’d hate to look like I’m all bark and no bite—unlike you—so I thought I’d give you a call and prove how serious I am.” Alphonse lets his switchblade drop from his hand and onto the floor. “When I have you dead, your wife will be widowed and then with the great Don Ferrari’s blessing, I’ll marry her right away so she doesn’t have to spend one day grieving over your sorry ass.”

Tom rubs his temples gingerly, lowering his gaze as Sonny stares down at the ground, listening to the phone call as if they’re both still recovering from something else they heard on the telephone before Michael arrived.

“But for that to happen,” Alphonse continues, “I need you to actually be here so I can kill you. I’m not a fan of damaging my favorite things, Corleone, but unfortunately, my future wife here has a pretty nasty gash on her forehead, and this is all your fault of course. If you had just died last night, she wouldn’t have to be roughed up.”

Michael narrows his eyes, beginning to glare down at the telephone. “You were the one who made the choice to hurt her, Alphonse. Nobody else made that decision for you.”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s just collateral damage.” Alphonse brushes Michael off. “You know she put up a hell of a fight, so getting her here was like wrestling a goddamn grizzly bear with your own hands. That’s what I’ve been saying to her too, you’re a hell of a mafia wife, aren’t you baby?” Alphonse roughly grips your face, giving it a shake.

You cry out in pain from how violently Alphonse shakes your face, applying pressure to your cheekbones and jaw on purpose just to hurt you. 

Your voice immediately alerts Michael and gets his blood boiling from anger in a split second; Michael’s knuckles turn white from how harshly he grips the telephone. “Don’t fucking touch her, Alphonse. I hate repeating myself.”

“What’s that? Hmm? Huh?” Alphonse lets go of you, continuing to taunt Michael. “I don’t think I heard you, Corleone. I don’t think Michael heard you say goodbye to him loud enough either, darling. Use your words.”

“Fuck you!” You spit out to Alphonse.

“Ah, there she is.” Alphonse sighs deeply. 

“You’re never going to get away with this, you bastard!” You shriek at him.

“Mhmm, you’re talking, baby, but you’re not saying what I want you to say.” Alphonse rolls his eyes, picking up his switchblade again and pressing the tip of it against your gash.

“Ah!” You wince, bursting into tears from the stinging pain as blood begins to spill from your gash once again. 

“Yeah, don’t like that, do you?” Alphonse grips your face so tightly as he continues to poke the tip of his switchblade over your gash that even if you tried to jerk your head back or move away, you’d end up having your entire forehead deeply cut into.

On the verge of frustration and pure rage, Michael begins to see nothing but red—speaking through gritted teeth. “Stop. It.”

“Should I?” Alphonse chuckles. “Yeah, maybe I should. She’s bleeding all over my favorite Persian rug.” Alphonse lets go of your face but not before slamming it down on the rug to hit your gash once again.

You burst into tears from the pain but force your body to remain steady on the carpet to lessen the pain.

Tom takes in deep quiet breaths, knowing that Michael’s not going to be able to hang up or brush aside anything Alphonse is saying or doing now over the telephone as he’s practically torturing you.

“Ah, I do applaud you on one thing though, Michael.” Alphonse sets his bloodied switchblade down. “Regardless of how all of this is going to go, you’ve benefitted my future so much. My future wife here definitely doesn’t talk; she doesn’t give away anything. A Ferrari alright… She answered all of my questions about you with one word, you know that? Omertà.”

‘Omertà.’ The word buzzes in Michael’s mind as a familiar one.

“She still won’t budge,” Alphonse mutters. “Giuseppe taught all his children not to talk, huh? I’ll have to ask my future father-in-law more about it. It fascinates me. Unfortunate for Victoria though, considering she’s still your wife at the moment. I’m going to have to rough her up real bad since she won’t talk, Michael. But don’t worry.” He adds in quickly, “she’ll heal from everything in my arms. I always kiss and mend after I hurt.”

“You’ve nothing but an agonizing, slow death waiting for you and every one of your little hired mercenaries, Alphonse. Never forget this.” Michael hisses. 

“Is that so? In any case, don’t try anything smart now, Corleone. Stay on the line, won’t you? Unless you want me to really hurt her, that is.” Alphonse sets the telephone down facing upward so Michael can hear both you and Alphonse clearly.

“Listen closely now.” Alphonse crawls behind you, hovering over top of you; his knees around both sides of your body. “I’m going to make her purr like a kitten.”

Michael slams his fist down against the table with such force that the telephone almost shakes off it completely. “What the fuck are you doing to her, Alphonse?!”

“Listen closely and you’ll know.” Alphonse chuckles, still hearing you whimper quietly in pain. “Once more chance, baby.” Alphonse hikes your nightgown up towards your ass, letting his gold-adorned hands roam down your inner thighs. “Answer me. Who sold the Tropigala to Michael Corleone? Tell us both, darling. Michael’s listening.”

“Omertà.” You groan out. 

Michael presses his lips down together, seething with anger and barely able to keep still anymore.

“Still nothing?” Alphonse squeezes your thighs. “That’s a shame. You’re lucky you’re so beautiful, more so than in those photographs. The camera doesn’t capture your real beauty. You better tell me if that Corleone ever even bothered to treat you the way you deserve to be treated.” He leans down, giving each of your thighs a warm kiss. “With everything you’ve done and with who you are, you deserve to eat on diamond plates.” Alphonse continues to let his hands wander around your legs and thighs. “Dinner parties, meeting politicians. You’ve got all of Nevada eating out of your hand and New York kissing your feet. I don’t have to tell you Corleone doesn’t deserve someone like you. Now…” Alphonse rests his hands over your ass. “Tell me, was it Senator Geary who sold Michael the license to the Tropigala? Who was behind that deal? Tell me.”

Instead of bothering to answer anyone, you jerk your leg back up swiftly and kick Alphonse directly in the face; the heel of your foot colliding over the bridge of his nose.

“FUCKING BITCH!” Alphonse grunts, clutching his bleeding nose.

Sonny grips into the leather armrest of his seat so hard that his fingernails almost rip through it entirely.

Tom gasps a “oh my God” to himself and immediately looks towards the door of the boathouse—needing some air.

“YOU NEED TO LEARN YOUR FUCKING PLACE WITH ME!” With blood still dripping down his nose, Alphonse pins both of your legs back down and leans right over, biting as hard as he can into your thigh.

You let out a howling scream of pain—feeling your lungs burn and blood dripping out of the bite wound from Alphonse’s teeth breaking your skin. 

Alphonse’s breath hitches as he pulls back, wiping a mixture of his and your blood off of his mouth—tasting your blood off of his teeth. 

“MICHAEL!!” You shriek again, clutching weakly onto the fibers of the Persian rug as your thigh twitches from the pain. 

Just as Alphonse leans over to speak onto the phone once again, Michael grabs the telephone—his hands shaking violently with anger as he throws it across the room and lets it smash to pieces against the wall.

“We’ve got to fucking go.” Sonny springs up to his feet, out of breath from his own anger. 

“Get up!” Michael gestures to Tom, Neri, and Rocco. “Completely disregard our previous plan, there’s going to be no snipers, no speaking in. Alphonse is fucking torturing her. We’re going to Silver City now and we’re going to kill every single one of them on sight, instantly. DO I MAKE MYSELF PERFECTLY CLEAR?!”

 ~

Leaving you whimpering on the floor, Alphonse scowls down at you as he moves off your back. “I’ve been real nice and considerate with you, darling. I could have let your fucking throat dry up or hooked you to the wall like a piece of meat.” Alphonse rises to his feet shakily. “I let you sleep in my bed comfortably and I didn’t knock the sense out of you every time I had the chance, did I? But you…” Alphonse snarls, rubbing the bridge of his nose cautiously. “You weren’t considerate at all. I can make your life a miserable fucking hell in here, darling, and the fact I have to keep reminding you tells me a lot.”

“Go fuck yourself.” You grunt out against the carpet. “You don’t even have the ability to make my life a ‘miserable fucking hell’. You already live in one.”

“Good thing I’m going to share it with you then.” Alphonse glances at the smeared blood over his hand. “You did this all to yourself, you know.”

“Yeah, and you deserve everything that’s come crashing down upon you since your father was put down like a pest.” You hiss. “Ever heard me cry out for mercy here?”

“I’ll fucking kill you.” Alphonse grit his teeth, pointing an accusing finger at you. “Don’t you ever talk about my father like that again.”

“Your father was a fucking miserable little weasel obsessed with money and whores.” You raise your head up, glaring at Alphonse. “Your family stood out from the others since your father’s time and I see you’ve changed nothing.”

“You’re not the least bit intimidating to me, I hope you know that even though you try to fucking piss me off.” Alphonse scowls down at you.

“Funny.” You let out a weak chuckle. “Your men shit themselves in my presence, why don’t you talk about that?”

“That’s because these men respect you.” Alphonse gestures back to his capos who have otherwise been practically invisible in the room from silence and their backs turned to you. “One day you’ll respect them because they’ll be protecting you with their lives.”

“How worthwhile is that protection if I can take them all down by myself?” You scoff.

“Is that why you cried like a little slut when I put you in your place?” Alphonse kneels in front of you. “Hmm?”

“Please.” You ignore Alphonse’s eye contact with you. “I’ve felt worse pain, but it didn’t mean I enjoyed having your nasty mouth on me.”

“Felt worse pain, huh?” Alphonse watches your thigh still trembling and trickling with blood from his deep bite mark. “Made your bones like crazy, but you and that baby inside of you are going to go out real sad if you don’t start talking.”

“You can do whatever you want to me.” You breathe out, “but you leave my baby the hell alone.”

“You think you’re special because Michael came in you?” Alphonse rolls his eyes, sighing loudly. “I’ll be doing that to you tenfold myself. That ‘baby’ inside of you—it’s like what? Not even the size of a grain of rice yet? If anything ‘happens’ to it, it’ll be your fault. But it won’t be much of a loss at this point anyway, you can always try again.”

“You know there’s one thing about all of this that I’m really going to enjoy.” You let out a deep breath, trying to avoid the vicious pain in your thigh. 

“What part?” Alphonse rests his back against the leg of his armchair. “The part where you marry me or I impregnate you?”

You ball up a wad of spit in your mouth before letting it land on the Persian rug. “It’ll be part where you die. I’m no sadist but I think I’m going to enjoy watching it happen.”

“Long time coming, huh?” Alphonse leers at you.

“You have no idea.” You grunt. 

Ignoring your comment, Alphonse reaches into the breast pocket of his suit jacket, taking out the handkerchief and wiping your forehead with it without taking extra care around your gash.

You grit your teeth in pain and silence yourself, taking it as Alphonse smiles at the blood stain over his handkerchief when he pulls it back. “There, there, pretty baby. I’d think you’d come to be exhausted from talking like this all day, hmm?” Alphonse trails his thumb over your bottom lip; admiration replacing the otherwise pissed look in his eyes. “Beautiful lips… Hate to see them shaking like this in pain.” 

You remain completely still, fearing that if you attempt to move out of the way or try anything against Alphonse again, this time he won’t hesitate to hurt your baby directly even if it doesn’t look like it.

In reality, you could practically vomit over Alphonse’s face from how nauseous and disgusted you feel from him even laying a hand on you, but you force it all back.

Acting as if you’ve given in to him, you remain quiet and calm which only pleases Alphonse further.

“Easy, baby.” Alphonse tilts your head up with both hands gently, causing you to whimper. “You know, I’ve always wanted to do this to you.” Alphonse leans in; his nose tracing around your jawline and neck as he inhales the faint scent of sweet, floral perfume over you.

From the way Alphonse has your body raised against his, pressure is applied to your legs and the bite mark over your thigh practically feels as if it’s on fire.

You hold in the pain but cannot manage to stay completely silent. Alphonse hears your soft whimpers and takes them as a sign of weakness before pressing his forehead against yours.

Without saying a word, Alphonse inches closer and closer to your lips, and all the “don’t do this!” screaming in your head stops nothing as his lips collide with yours.

You squeeze your eyes shut in disgust so as not to look directly at him as Alphonse gives you a full-mouth kiss. You don’t return it nor do you part your lips against his, simply remaining completely still and hoping for the kiss to come to a quick end.

“God,” Alphonse murmurs softly as he pulls away from you. “That love bite will heal, baby. I want to almost forgive you just from that kiss alone. Does Michael make good use of that mouth, I wonder.”

Tears sting your eyes as you stare down at the carpet, knowing it’ll be no use to tell him to let you go or do anything else.

“You’re very beautiful, Victoria.” Alphonse strokes your hair gently, noticing your glassy eyes filled with tears. “Even when you cry. You’ve always had that Ferrari fire in you, but it’s unfortunate it got you hurt today. It’ll raise the Ricci family to newfound heights, and on a personal scale…” Alphonse caresses your face with the back of his hand. “I can’t wait to start a family with you and sleep next to you every night.”

It's that comment that sends you over the tipping edge, and you can no longer hold back the disturbed look on your face.

“What?” Alphonse chuckles. “Don’t act so surprised, darling. Isn’t that what happened to your sister-in-law?”

“W-what?” You say weakly.

“Constanzia Corleone,” Alphonse tells you. “Married one street rat mobster wannabee, right? That Carlo Rizzi or whatever his name is. That didn’t work out, so what did she do? Well, I hear she was a very, very smart girl to go and marry a man like Leonardo Ferrari. One doesn’t work out so onto the next, real mobster it is. She secured her future with a very powerful man whose also fathering her sons, right?”

“D-don’t talk about Connie.” You narrow your eyes at him. “Never talk about my sister.”

“Relax, baby.” Alphonse gives you a playful grin, “my eyes are only for you, but you know what I’m talking about. If anything happens to that brother Lorenzo of yours—who I’ve no doubt will finally meet with me today—then Leonardo will become the Don. What’s going to be the difference between you and Constanzia then? She’ll be the wife of the second most powerful mobster on the continent, after me.”

Before either of you can speak further, you notice Alphonse’s eyes instantly widen in shock, and in a split second, he pins his body down to the floor.

Immediately after, a hail of dozens and dozens of bullets making the attempt on your life look like child’s play begins to hail through the mirror—hitting every corner, every angle, every wall and shattering the windows to smithereens.

 There isn’t even time for Alphonse’s capos to respond as their bodies can barely drop to the floor with constant gunfire riddling holes through them.

“That motherfucker finally came, huh?!” Alphonse keeps himself flat on the floor. 

You burst out in hysterical laughter, no longer able to control yourself or hold back. You know Michael and his men are here and that this has all come to an end; it couldn’t possibly be more amusing than how it already is to you right now.

“Go to hell, go to hell!” You say through your laughter as Alphonse pulls you up into his arms, attempting to protect you.

All you can hear are the sounds of men hollering outside, bodies falling, and screams of pain accompanied by consistent, rapid fire. 

“I’m taking you with me, darling.” Alphonse’s eyes glance up to the ceiling as he keeps you up against him, hearing the sound of a heavy thump before watching the body of his sniper falling right off the roof. “SHIT!”

In truth, Alphonse’s men have grown lazy and sloppy after realizing Michael neither came yesterday night nor at the time Alphonse expected him to today either. 

As a result, a vast majority of his men drop dead from being unprepared, unable to shield themselves from the bullets fired against them.

Alphonse grunts, struggling to pull out his pistol from the inner pocket of his suit. “They know what they’re shooting at, huh?” Alphonse yanks a fistful of your hair, pulling you up onto his lap and pressing the barrel of his gun up to your temple. “Then they won’t get to you or me now.”

“Do your worst if you can.” You breathe out, grinning at the window.

It wasn’t hard for your father to have all the roads leading to Silver City cleared and kept that way an entire day before, sending assassins in the best cars available with no exceptions.

Your brothers went sent off to Silver City with Michael and your father’s best men, but Lake Tahoe isn’t left unprotected either. 

Giuseppe himself stayed back with his capos, Alessio, Tom, Fredo, and tight security both in and around the estate complex including every pathway and road leading up to it. 

Neri and Rocco have personally accompanied Michael who drove himself, surrounded by the cars of his security on every side of the road for protection should Michael approach any vehicles of Alphonse’s men or have bullets littered over his trail.

Neri sits in the back seat with Rocco next to him, fully armed. Ritchie Nobilio is in the front passenger seat by Michael, aiming out the window with two pistols in both hands—ready for anything.

Michael is armed to the teeth himself, calm but ready to kill. Everyone knows blood will be spilled today, marking a new mob war between the Corleone and Ferrari families versus the Ricci’s. 

Michael will not rest until he personally kills Alphonse and confirms his death and he will only consider you safe when he sees you unharmed in person unless it absolutely can’t be helped; the last resort Michael has made sure all of his and your father’s men are very well aware of.

The vehicles surrounding Michael’s that drove up front shot off the snipers with silencers and any of Alphonse’s men scattered around the vicinity of Silver City, so neither Michael nor any of his and your father’s men were even heard approaching Alphonse’s Estate as nobody was alive to raise the alarm beforehand.

Neri was the one who took out Alphonse’s sniper and one of Michael’s men easily took his spot, blending into his surroundings.

Michael and Giuseppe’s men parked their vehicles on every side of Alphonse’s manor to surround his men completely, relentlessly shooting and circling around. 

Although taken by surprise, Alphonse’s men snap back into action and prepare to shoot back—taking as much cover around the manor as they can find.

Michael’s vehicle is hidden behind a blockade of others, and he easily steps out without being seen and crouches against the car next to Ritchie.

Both Michael and Ritchie glance up towards the roof of the manor, seeing Matteo perched up top and taking out the remaining men outside the front. After firing another shot, Matteo signals the area is clear for Michael and Ritchie to enter.

If you knew it was your brother hiding up on the roof and picking off Alphonse’s men like mosquitos in the vicinity, you’d neither be impressed nor surprised. 

Matteo was always skilled with firearms, and he was the one who taught you all about accuracy, aim, and bullets all those years back.

Lorenzo and Sonny remain with their men towards the back of the estate, back to back, and move towards the garden as stealthily as possible while taking out Alphonse’s men.

“Fucking bastards.” Sonny hisses, firing a bullet into another guard’s chest and watching him topple into the swimming pool—seeping blood into it.

“That’s the last of them.” Lorenzo huffs, moving towards the entrance of the garden and reloading his pistol. “I like your fire, Corleone. They never had it coming.”

“These assholes don’t stand a chance with us, brother.” Sonny gives Lorenzo’s shoulder a pat as both men press their backs up against the entrance door. “Ready to give ‘em hell?”

“Never been more ready in my fucking life.” Aiming his pistol toward the door, Lorenzo kicks it down and doesn’t hesitate to fire a few rounds in immediately.

“What’s wrong now, huh?” You breathe out, noticing the storm of bullets has come to an end, leaving no intact door or the protection of windows. “Nothing to protect you anymore.”

“Nice sudden, but will be short-lived confidence, Victoria.” Alphonse keeps his pistol on you, firmly holding you in his arms. “I’m a lot smarter than you think. If they want to come here and corner me, they’ll have to do so knowing your life is now on the line too, darling. I can shoot out your brains and redecorate my Persian rug with another shade of red whenever I want.”

‘Michael… Michael, where are you?’ You let out a shaky breath, keeping your gaze to the windows in case one of Michael’s men or Michael himself spot you and know your exact location within the estate.

Rocco moves to defend around the back where Lorenzo and Sonny’s men begin to rush in after them, and Neri remains close to Michael at all times.

Michael stands by a pile of bodies by the front door, examining the blown-out windows around him but keeping his back away from it just in case.

From where Michael and Neri stand, both of them can clearly hear shouting and gunshots coming from the side entrances and almost exclusively upstairs.

It’s never once eluded Michael that one of the men he’s brought here to protect him and subsequently secure you back home may be the very traitor who helped Alphonse orchestrate the attempt on his life in the first place, hence why Michael couldn’t care less now if either Neri or Rocco dies tonight.

‘This is life or death.’ Michael thinks to himself, keeping completely still as he can hear one of Alphonse’s men now rushing towards the door he’s standing by.

As soon as the front door pulls back, Michael takes a lunging step back and fires his pistol directly into the head of the assassin.

Brain matter and blood splatter over the shattered pieces of the windows, other dead bodies, the front door, and Neri; narrowly missing Michael with the mess but still staining his navy suit with droplets of blood all over.

Michael exchanges a glance with Neri before nodding at him, beginning to move inside the estate and take cover underneath the closest staircase. 

Neri shakes his head, seeing the other set of stairs on the opposite side of the room leading up to the same place upstairs; dozens and dozens of rooms. “There’s too many to infiltrate all at once, Don Corleone.”

Michael holds his index finger up against his lips, ushering for Neri to remain quiet. “Listen.”

The two remain silent for a moment, listening so keenly that Michael would be expecting to hear bugs crawling in the corners of the estate at this point.

Sounds of a struggle and gunfire only come from some of the rooms upstairs and downstairs, but others remain completely quiet.

“Soundproof,” Neri whispers, figuring it out.

“Exactly,” Michael whispers back.

“Our men can go into each room, but we can’t,” Neri tells Michael. “Mrs. Corleone could be in any one of these rooms.”

Michael’s eyes dart from the doors upstairs over to a piece of something he spots over the carpet on the other side of the foyer. 

Michael stealthily moves to the other side of the room, noticing what looks to be a snapped-off piece of a high heel. 

Crouching down, Michael points out the piece to Neri, watching his eyes widen. 

Michael reaches his hand down to pick up the broken piece of your heel, but not before analyzing the way it’s scraped and dragged over the carpet—pointing to a specific direction down the hallway.

“Victoria’s high heel.” Michael holds up the piece in his hand. “Make no mistake about it.”

“And the mark.” Neri murmurs, following it on the carpet. “This was done on purpose.”

“Victoria left us a little message.” Michael’s eyes fixate on one of the soundproof rooms the marks lead to. “Unless I’m dead wrong—” Michael cocks his pistol, pointing it towards the door. “Someone in specific is armed to the teeth in that room.”

“The angling of the room, Don Corleone.” Neri reminds Michael. “From where our men shot, that was one of the first rooms to be cleared with initial fire.”

“Regardless,” Michael glances back at him. “Going into that room without knowing what exactly we’re facing is suicide.”

“Wait for my signal, sir. I can confirm it from the outside since the windows are completely shot through.” Neri says, beginning to move back.

“Fire a warning round if it’s just that fucking rat in there. Two if it’s fully armed.” Michael orders, beginning to make his way to the door as Neri exits out front.

Neri army crawls over the trail of dead bodies by the porch, remaining out of sight from any of the rooms and windows regardless of whether there’s sound coming from it or not.

Neri’s able to raise his head just a little bit towards the window pane to make out you being forcefully held in the corner of the room in Alphonse’s arms with a gun pressed up to your head.

Although Alphonse remains highly alert and still alarmed, he manages to keep calm with you as the bargaining chip for his life. 

Neri also notices both of Alphonse’s capos have bled out to death; the cause being quick shots to the heart with the other holes in their bodies as décor from Michael’s men. 

Neri angles his gun towards the inside of the room and holds his breath, firing the one shot to the corpse of one of the capos right by Alphonse.

“There you are, fucker!” Alphonse grunts, firing his pistol three times in the direction of Al Neri.

Narrowly missing, Neri still fakes out a loud cry of pain and throws his body down with a thud onto the other corpses beneath him as a tactic to show Alphonse he’s dead, but in reality, Neri will be waiting there to kill Alphonse himself if anything happens to Michael.

You wince from feeling the heat of Alphonse’s gun firing close to your face, but Alphonse had surprisingly shielded your ear closest to the pistol just before he fired.

As soon as Michael hears a single gunshot, he kicks open the door and aims his pistol directly at Alphonse’s head.

Alphonse is quick to aim his gun right back to your forehead, bursting out in laughter—bordering near insane. “Welcome, Don Corleone! We missed you.”

Your eyes widen in shock at the sight of Michael standing in front of you; his suit dripping with fresh blood. 

Your semi-relieved, partly stunned expression is immediately noticed by Alphonse. “Ooh, finally the reunion we’ve all been waiting for, huh? Missed this pretty little thing?” Alphonse pulls harshly on a fistful of your hair, causing you to wince in pain.

Michael makes eye contact with you only for a split second, but it’s all that takes for you to tell that behind those cold, emotionless eyes of his that Michael’s more than just relieved to see you. 

Alphonse or anyone else for that matter making you cry would be more than enough reason for Michael to kill everyone here, but he’s also noticed your tear-filled eyes and the bloody gash over your forehead with just one, brief look.

“Let her go and face like a man, coward.” Michael places his finger over the trigger of his pistol.

“No, I don’t think so and you won’t persuade me otherwise. I have leverage, can’t you see?” Alphonse gives your face a rough shake. “I had a lot of fun with this pretty wife of yours, but you already know that.”

“You talk too much.” Michael takes a step closer, keeping his gun aimed directly between Alphonse’s eyes.

“I’m already loaded and ready.” Alphonse runs the pistol over your head and through your hair. “And I’ll kill her faster than you can put me out, I guarantee you that.”

“I could have made your death much quicker if you did what I said.” Michael scowls.

“Ha.” Alphonse snorts. “I could say the same for you but here you are, blood on your new suit and no ransom money. I should just kill Victoria because I can—take her to hell with me. Look, seen this yet?” Alphonse pushes the hair out of your face aside, revealing your gash clearly to Michael. 

“Don’t fucking touch me.” You grunt out.

“I played with her a little too hard and made a bit of a mess, but don’t worry,” Alphonse smirks sardonically. “I kissed it better, see?” He lets his free hand roam up your bare thigh, revealing a peek of your panties in the process to show Michael the bite mark. 

“I’m going to enjoy putting you down like a dog just like I did to your own men.” Michael keeps himself calm and steady despite the pure rage he’s never felt before growing inside of him like a wildfire unchecked.

“You don’t even know who you’re talking to!” Alphonse spits out. “I could kill this pregnant bitch and still find a way to take the rest of your family down with you.”

“What I find more amusing is that you expected me to believe you’d give all of your sickest fantasies up for twelve to twenty million dollars?”

Alphonse laughs again out of breath, continuing to hold onto your hair. “You know me so well, Don Corleone. I want Victoria so fucking bad you have no idea. So,” Alphonse aims his pistol back at Michael’s head. “Maybe I should kill you instead, then fuck her in front of your corpse to celebrate!”

You scream and attempt to jerk around in Alphonse’s arms, but it’s much too late. He squeezes his finger around the trigger and fires his pistol…only to hear it click empty. 

“What the fuck?!” Alphonse tries firing again and again, but the pistol still clicks empty.

Out of fear, Alphonse’s face drains of color as his hands tremble and the pistol falls to the floor. “You were lucky!”

“I don’t believe in luck.” Michael fires his gun at one of Alphonse’s kneecaps, causing him to let out a blood-curdling scream and let go of you.

Even with a completely shattered kneecap, Alphonse attempts to crawl towards the fireplace after practically throwing you off of him.

Michael quickly pulls you up to your feet by your arm, exchanging a glance with you that shows his relief again, but this time mixed with his own fear that Michael was under the belief he could have lost you.

You can’t even begin to fathom the relief you feel in your heart seeing Michael again, and although there’s never been any doubt in your mind that you wouldn’t, you feel as if with everything you’ve gone through these past two days without Michael’s love and safety is enough to cause you to faint on the spot.

The split second of horror you felt breaking your heart the moment Alphonse attempted to fire his pistol is now replaced with a horrible wave of anxiety as you could have just possibly witnessed your husband’s own death in front of your very eyes.

Without a word spoken to one another, Michael’s quick to throw off the ropes from your wrists—not struggling the least bit with the ties and refusing to take his full attention off of Alphonse now clutching his bleeding knee and attempting to move towards the fireplace to grab the fire poker.

“I had unfinished business with you, Alphonse. Face me when I fucking talking to you.” Michael turns to Alphonse once again, this time shooting his other kneecap and causing Alphonse to scream out and burn his hand in the process. 

With your hand binds off, you quickly work the ropes off of your ankles—gritting your teeth and taking in sharp breaths from how badly bruised both your wrists and ankles are; sickening shades of mottled violet.

“E-even if I was going to die from the start, it was all worth it.” Alphonse pants out, unable to move any farther from his broken kneecaps. “J-just to… Just to get you like this is worth my life any day.” He weakly points up at the pistol in Michael’s hands. “And whose the coward now? Facing an unarmed man with a gun. W-where’s your honor, you dog?”

“What the fuck would you know about honor?!” Michael shouts, his voice resonating throughout the room in bitter anger. “Man to man is the way you want it? That’s never been a problem with me.” 

Michael tosses his firearm towards you and you quickly reach your hand up to catch it mid-air, clutching it to your chest and still trying to catch your breath.

As you weakly move towards the smashed window before you, you still aim the pistol steadily in case of any further threats or danger.

“Then who would I be if I denied you the opportunity to have your bones broken with my bare hands?” Michael speaks through gritted teeth, pulling Alphonse up to his feet by his shirt.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Neri pretending to play dead on top of the bodies of Alphonse’s men, and you sigh out in relief seeing he’s personally fine.

“Y-yeah, you’re nothing to me but another fucking army punk.” Alphonse coughs, sneering at Michael.

You can’t nor would you ever distract or stop Michael now, but you know you’re not going to remain in this God-forsaken room any longer like a helpless hostage still. 

“Bold words from someone who will never walk, let alone see the light of day again. You were going to kill me and marry my wife? Shame I wouldn’t be able to come to the wedding, right?!” Michael snaps back sarcastically. 

Before you can even turn back on your heel to look back at Alphonse and Michael, one of Alphonse’s injured assassins makes a break towards the porch but not before you aim and shoot directly at his throat.

“Nice shot.” Neri grunts, leaning up against the house wall.

“T-thanks.” You say back shakily. “No excuse.”

“I’m going to kill you just for thinking about her, you know that?” Michael snatches the fire poker out of Alphonse’s loose grip, raising the pointed edge up to his throat.

Alphonse can barely breathe from the pressure Michael holds over his body, only needing him to make one wrong move to squirm free and kill himself in the process if Michael doesn’t plunge the fire poker into Alphonse’s throat already.

Although Michael doesn’t pay direct attention to it, you, him and Neri are aware gunshots have grown completely silent in the house.

“Jesus fuck!” You hear Sonny’s voice as he and Lorenzo burst into the office room. “There he is! Mike’s got the bastard at last, huh?”

“Victoria!” Lorenzo’s eyes widen when he spots you by the window and his eyes only continue to grow in worry at the sight of your injuries.

“I’m fine, Lorenzo. Really.” You swallow hard, showing Lorenzo the pistol in your hand.

Your brother scowls at Alphonse practically being crushed under Michael’s hands before he runs up to you but hesitates to embrace or touch you. “God, you’ve no fucking idea how glad I am to see you alive and well.”

“Need privacy, Mike?” Sonny smirks at the sight of Alphonse whimpering and wincing under Michael’s grasp.

Michael doesn’t take his eyes off of Alphonse for a second, drawing blood from his throat by continuing to push the tip of the fire poker up into Alphonse’s neck—listening to him grunt out in pain. “Watch me do this and you’re not going to smile for a long time.”

“There isn’t a thing this motherfucker doesn’t deserve and we’ve made this place a house of corpses.” Sonny signals out the doorway for his men to start following out. “By all means, do what you need to do. I’m going out to bring the car over.”

“Make it quick, Mike.” Lorenzo forces himself to stay back, wanting nothing more than to tear Alphonse to shreds with his bare hands if he had the chance to. “Then we’re blowing this shit hole to pieces. We’re leaving nothing behind.”

All Michael demands back is, “take Victoria out. I don’t want her seeing this.”

“Victoria,” Lorenzo gently takes your arm, wrapping it over his shoulder to support your weight and help you get out of the manor considering how deep the bruises are welted over your ankles and with your thigh still quivering from the bitemark it sustained.

You clutch onto your brother like your life depends on it, utterly and completely exhausted but still holding onto your pistol and insistent to get the hell out of here.

“Nobody will bother to even utter your name because they’ll remember what I did here.” Michael watches as Alphonse’s blood begins to drip down the fire poker. “I hate repeating myself, but I’ll never tire of repeating how much I’ve enjoyed taking every single one of you out like flies.”

“Y-you would have never even gotten here if it wasn’t for me.” Alphonse smiles weakly. “I’ll f-face my death like a man if it’s coming to me. Who turned y-you into a bloodthirsty sadist? I did. You’ll have to thank m-me sometime—tell your kids sometime.”

“Give Luca Brasi my best in hell for me.” Michael grunts, gripping the fire poker as tightly as he can in his hand and impaling Alphonse through the eye with it, killing him instantly.

Out of the manor and having seen nothing but heard enough, you almost collapse of exhaustion by the front porch before Lorenzo scoops you up into his arms carefully.

Alphonse’s body drops to a thud as Michael lets go, only pushing the fire poker further through his head. 

Alphonse’s corpse remains sprawled out on the floor by the fireplace—his suit jacket wrinkled and turned over revealing a small photograph tucked within the inner pocket.

Michael leans down to quickly take it out of his pocket, examining the photograph to see it’s a recent one taken of you at the Tropigala last month.

The photograph shows you sitting on the edge of a grand piano, wearing a draped, short white dress that hangs off your shoulders, giving a peek of sexy cleavage and flattering your figure.

You had one matching white stiletto loosely dangling off your right foot and barefoot on the left; your hair styled in loose curls, soft smokey makeup over your eyes, and scarlet lipstick.

Michael glances back at Alphonse’s body in disgust, although not the least bit surprised he’d be holding a photograph of someone else’s wife in his pocket.

Michael keeps the photograph for himself, tucking it into the pocket of his dress trousers and walking out of Alphonse’s Silver City manor like he just came out of a dull business meeting—not a massacre leaving over fifty people dead.

“Daddy, daddy!” Michael can already hear the voices of his children ringing out in his head, desperate to return home and reunite with his family safely. “Daddy’s my hero!” 

“Where are you going, daddy?” Michael remembers Niccolo asking as he was just about to drive off to Silver City. “Are you going to get mama?”

“I love you, daddy, be safe! Drive super safe!”

The peace and serenity Michael finds in remembering his children’s voices and the memories you and he have made with them is interrupted as Michael can’t get the sickening sound of Alphonse’s hysterical laughter chiming in his head like a broken record.

Michael’s distressing thoughts and remorseless bitterness only fade off his expression once he sees you safely laying in the back seat of his Cadillac; your thigh carefully propped off the seat so as not to touch the bite wound. 

“Michael!” You cry, extending out your hand as he approaches the vehicle you’re in.

Michael notices Al Neri is sitting in the driver’s seat next to Ritchie, starting up the car and waiting for him to get in.

Michael pulls open the door and gets inside swiftly; the car takes off amidst the others as soon as Michael shuts the door behind him.

“She’s gonna blow, boss.” Ritchie glances back, opens the window of the vehicle, and gestures with his hand once you’re all at a safe distance to detonate the dynamite set up inside.

Michael cups both hands over your ears tightly as explosions go off in the estate, swallowing it up in raging flames. 

You can’t hear Michael speak to you, but you can read off his lips that he says, “I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you.”

Michael holds you tightly in his arms, careful not to touch any of your bruises or the otherwise horrific-looking bitemark over your thigh—just relieved to have the love of his life back in his arms relatively safe and sound.

Not once did you think about your own life and safety while held ransom with Alphonse. Your mind always went back to the children and the unborn baby inside of you—even Michael, but never yourself for one moment.

The very thought of having to live without Michael or your children for one kills you and as much as you want to stop thinking about it, you know the idea won’t stop haunting you until you’re out of this Godforsaken ghost town.

As Michael holds you in his loving and protective embrace, you can’t help but burst out sobbing in his arms. 

“Easy, baby. It’s all over now.” Michael murmurs, slowly pulling back and examining the gash over your forehead before placing one hand over your baby bump. “My God.”

You whimper, feeling your knees grow weak from exhaustion as your thigh continues to tremble from the insisting, stinging pain around the bitemark.

“Jesus Christ, he’s a fucking animal,” Michael mutters under his breath as he notices just how badly Alphonse bit you. “How bad does it hurt baby? We’re going to get you medical attention immediately at home.”

“It’s…” You hiccup, trying to stop yourself from crying. “Not the worst thing in the w-world, believe me.”

“Whole place is on fire.” Al Neri glances at the rear-view mirror, noticing the bellowing smoke trailing behind them back at the estate.

“Let it burn.” Michael scowls, his expression only softening when he gazes back at you. “Baby, you have to tell me what happened in there—not now, but I have to know.”

“Nothing.” You sniffle, looking up at your husband and clutching onto his arms for balance. “Nothing happened.”

“What?” Michael furrows his brows in confusion. “What do you mean nothing—”

“Omertà.” Your voice quivers. 

Al Neri and Ritchie stare at each other for a moment, remaining quiet after hearing you utter the word.

“Omertà,” Michael repeats softly. 

“I’ll never talk.” You wipe the tears off your eyes with the sleeve of your nightgown. “And I never did, even if it would k-kill me.”

~

Once you arrived back at the Lake Tahoe compound surrounded by dozens of guards and security both in and out of cars, you had no intention of upcoming any of the lies Michael had told the twins other than you were at the hospital with your mother who is still recovering.

The fresh, throbbing gash on your forehead, the deep aching bruises over both your wrists and ankles let alone the deep teeth marks over your badly bruised thigh would never live up to some sort of fantasy-based tale about what “happened” in a hospital.

You’d be upfront with the twins, telling them you and Michael “got rid of all the bad guys” and you got hurt in the process, but that it was nothing serious and you’d heal over time.

You didn’t want the twins to worry about you and just the thought of seeing their little eyes water up as they cry seeing their mother injured would be enough to break your heart for two lifetimes.

You’d have to convince the twins just like how you convinced yourself that you're fine, and all gashes, bruises, and injuries of any kind heal with time and care—something you desperately need.

When Michael scooped you up into his arms gently to bring you inside the compound, you refused to be anywhere else or with anyone else but your husband.

Since you also didn’t want anyone at home to see you before getting medical treatment, your arrival was kept a secret from everyone except your father.

Michael took you inside the boathouse—a pinnacle of privacy—and brought Doctor Katherine in to clean and tend to your wounds. It was a relief to hear from Doctor Katherine after a full examination that your baby was fine too.

You were given some painkillers to help subside the pain from your head; the gash on your temple was now bandaged along with your thigh. 

You felt fine, mostly numb with achy muscles just grateful to be free of those tight bounds after being forced to lay down tied up like an animal being brought to slaughter.

It was the bitemark over your thigh that hurt the most because you thought Alphonse was going to tear a chunk of your flesh off of you from how hard he was biting. 

The gash being poked open with a switchblade was agonizing enough, but the feeling of having someone’s entire mouth over your thigh biting in with full force is a different type of pain you never want to feel again.

As soon as Doctor Katherine left the boathouse to give you and Michael some privacy, your husband pulled you up on his lap gently where you cried in his arms until you physically couldn’t anymore.

Michael knew what you needed then wasn’t reassurances, but his presence and him alone. He remained quiet, he gently caressed your skin, gave you little kisses, and let you sob your heart out.

“Michael,” you croaked out as you wiped the last bit of tears from your eyes. “You know I could have l-lost you today.”

“Baby, do you hear yourself?” Michael frowned at you. “We could have lost you. Don’t think about me—”

“How couldn’t I?!” You hiccupped, your eyes glassy and filling with tears again. “All I could think of was you and our babies! Our babies…” You put a shaky hand over your baby bump. “Forget me, but not our family—not you.” You narrowed your eyes at Michael and cupped his face weakly. “You scared me half to death back there! Michael, he had a gun held up to your face! How could you approach him like that?!”

“He didn’t have any bullets left in his gun—” Michael began to tell you before you interrupted him.

“But what if he did?!” You burst into tears yet again. “He would have killed you—WHAT IF?!”

“Baby, listen to me.” Michael placed both hands over your shoulders firmly. “I already thought of all that before I came in there to find you. The first thing I looked at was the pistol in his hands—Al and I listened to him firing shots. I would have never approached Alphonse the same way if I knew he even had one more round in that pistol.”

“S-still.” You shook your head and hugged your husband tightly. “I w-was so scared, I don’t even want to think about it. I-I had to at that moment and I just—I can’t. I can’t!” Sobs rack through your sore and aching body. “I was so scared that I would lose you and our babies.”

“I know, baby. I know.” Michael embraced you tightly and comforted you. “I’m here with you and our children. Everything’s going to be alright. That is never going to happen to you ever again.”

Your tears soaked into Michael’s dress shirt and as much as you believed everything he told you and how Michael and Michael alone could relieve your heart of any pain and suffering, you still could not get past the fear of losing your husband forever.

“I-I don’t know what I would do without you. Never being able to see you again, or seeing you d-dead.” You dug your fingernails into Michael’s suit jacket and raised your head up to face Michael. “Never scare me like that again, never! I don’t care what’s h-happening, never do that to me.”

“Never again, darling.” Michael cupped your cheeks and gave your lips a gentle kiss as he felt you whimper against him. “I promise you this. Just the way you want it to be. You know I love you too much to ever think about a day where I can’t be with you anymore, Victoria. Do you know how I felt since you were gone?” Michael’s eyes darted over yours. “I’ve had no peace, not a single moment’s rest and I lied to our own children to protect us but I promised myself I’d get you back and I have you now back with us, safe. I made that bastard pay for what he not only did to you but to all of us.”

“A-always the hero.” You sniffled and weakly smiled at your husband. “I-I knew you’d come. I never doubted you, my love. E-everything you do has a purpose, that’s why I love you, Michael. That’s why I trust you with my life.”

“And I trust you with mine.” Michael lowered his tone to a whisper and spoke softly to you. “I love you and only you so much, Victoria. That is never going to change. Anyday, anytime, I would take a bullet for you and our children gladly. I would die for you, never forget this. There isn’t a thing I wouldn’t do for you and our children. The rest of the world can burn for all I care, but they will not have you.”

“I love you, I love you.” You whimpered out weakly and kissed Michael’s lips. “C-can you please just hold me? Everything hurts and… And I just want to be held.”

“Yes, baby, of course.” Michael rubbed up and down your arms, letting you snuggle onto his chest. “For as long as you want, you can lay here in my arms.”

‘This is the life I’ve chosen, the life I’ve lived and continue to live with no regrets, no remorse.’

The last of your silent tears escaped your eyes as you felt the strength, love, and trust in your husband’s embrace; one of the only moments of peace you’ve felt since you returned home knowing everything is finally over now.

‘This has always been about life or death.’

You’re safe, you’re loved, and you’re back home with your children. You’re right where you want to be and nowhere else and you wouldn’t want it differently. 

‘Omertà.’ 

[peakyblindersxx]

May I request a john smut in which, despite being the cocky beast that he usually is, he manages to get all gentle and intense when, after years of mutual pining, he finally makes love to ada's best friend who's younger and totally inexperienced. Idk I just need this to be fucking intense, like John suffocating his desire for ages and now finally indulging in his worst temptation and showing her what lust is... please i'll burn in hellll

a/n: first of all let me say: this killed me. like, it’s literally all i can think about. god help me. but thank you so fucking much for requesting this bc i liked it sooo much that i decided to make a mini series out of it with the help of my babe @stxdyblr-2k who was sweet enough to offer to ghostwrite on the series 🥰 and to all my other angels who requested fics, don’t worry i will get them done! just wanna give you guys the best quality work i can. my 1st priority are some tommy requests i got, as well as some michael ones after :)

love, abi xxx

whiskey business - john shelby x reader (1 of ?)

warnings: nsfw! eventual smut, slow burn, john being sexy as all hell but also soft

John couldn’t tear his eyes off of you. From the moment you walked into the Garrison, arm loosely linked with Ada’s, clad in a black lace dress that hugged you just right, he couldn’t stop staring. Even Tommy and Arthur had noticed, cracking some joke about him being pussy whipped. The words floated right over his head, his mind on one thing only. The last time he had seen you, you were barely eighteen, cheeks pink as you waved goodbye out the train window to Ada as she sobbed. Ada had always had a flair for the dramatic, but the two of you had practically been attached at the hip your entire lives. So, he consoled her, reminding her that university wasn’t forever, that you would be back soon enough. And back, you were, red-stained lips sipping at a glass of something that Ada had practically shoved in your face. You weren’t a girl anymore, black heels crossed at the ankle as you sat across the room in a booth, laughing as Ada waved her arms, telling some sort of story.

“Just fuckin’ talk to ‘er, John-boy,” Arthur’s voice cut through John’s train of thought like a sharp knife, and he focused his eyes on his two brothers sitting at the booth across from him, clouds of smoke from Tommy’s incessant smoking heavy in the air around them.

“Fuck off,” John returned as he stood, earning a chuckle from Tommy.

“That’s right,” Arthur shouted as John made his way towards the bar, rolling his eyes at his older brothers. “Make sure you show her a real good time, eh?” Arthur’s voice was soon drowned out by the crowd around John, as they parted to let him walk through. He didn’t even see them, his eyes trained on your smile. Fuck, you were pretty.

***

“So, then I fucking kicked him in the balls.” Ada’s eyes sparkled triumphantly as she recalled the time she’d incited a riot, managing to cause great injury to a certain part of a policeman’s body. She did so casually, like it was no big deal. You couldn’t control your laughter as Ada grinned, pleased that she’d been able to make you laugh. “Fuckin’ missed you, Y/N,” she professed, shooting the rest of her gin and gesturing at the bartender to “leave the fuckin’ bottle, already.”

“Missed you too,” you smiled back at her, happy to be back in Birmingham in the company of an old friend. London was beautiful, but lonely. There was something inside you that missed the dirty streets, the crowded pubs bursting with familiar faces.

“Had to come over here myself to make sure it was you,” A deep voice interrupted your reverie and you looked up to see none other than Ada’s older brother John, looking even handsomer than the last time you’d seen him, in a grey-three piece suit, a cigar hanging from his lips. You’d had the hugest crush on him growing up, and the butterflies swimming around in your stomach seemed to confirm that you still found the tallest Shelby brother irresistible.

“Hi, John,” You offered him a shy smile and scooched over as he slid into the booth next to you, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to your cheek. You couldn’t help but drink in the smell of his cologne, the various drinks that Ada had encouraged you to down making you press yourself closer to him.

“M’kay, if you’re going to fuck, at least wait until I’m gone.” Ada’s voice snapped you out of it and you looked away, a pink blush staining your cheeks.

“Says the one who managed to fuck three of my best mates before you left school,” John retorted, causing Ada to roll her eyes, shooting her whiskey and pouring the three of you another glass each.

“I feel like getting drunk, and I’m not doing it alone,” Ada announced, causing both you and John to crack a smile at her forcefulness.

“Good thing we took a cab here,” you returned, before shooting your whiskey. If you were going to have to stare at John all night, you thought, you might as well be drunk doing it. Wasn’t like he was going to be staring back.

***

Ada was shitfaced, dancing in the middle of the pub. Luckily, Isaiah had stepped in as her partner, making sure her stumbling didn’t cause her to trip and fall. Unluckily for you, this left a tipsy you and John alone tucked into a booth in the corner of the room, out of view. The conversation was friendly, and you were trying your best to keep your mind off the way you could see John’s forearms practically bulging out of his suit. It wasn’t fair, you thought to yourself, for him to walk around looking like that. Especially when you knew that he was probably fucking the latest movie star, or something. It was almost impossible for you to keep your head straight, yet you managed to keep it civil. However, you couldn’t help your gaze from drifting to his lips. God, they were so pink and looked so soft, it was unfair. You couldn’t stop yourself from imagining how they’d feel on your mouth, let alone other parts of your body. Jesus, you were fucked.

A third of a bottle of whiskey later, you couldn’t help but let yourself slide closer to him, heart beating fast in your chest as you sat tucked into his side, his arm around you as you laughed at a joke he’d made, something about the stick up Tommy’s ass. Your eyes shone as they met his blue ones, his arm sliding down until his fingers were brushing against your waist, radiating heat into your skin.

“Y’know, I’d tell you how fuckin’ pretty you look tonight, but I think you already know that,” John rumbled into your ear, lips just barely brushing against your neck. Your breath hitched, and he noticed, a small grin spreading across his lips.

“You’re something else, you know that?” You shot back, a small smile threatening to take over your lips.

“M’not just sayin’ that. Couldn’t take my eyes off ‘ya, since you walked in.” John wasn’t kidding. For a second you didn’t know how to reply, staring up at him with a slight look of disbelief. The whiskey, however, had other plans, and had decided to respond for you.

“Can't keep your hands off me now." You smirked, waiting for him to escalate the moment, anticipation and liquor silencing the blaring alarm in your mind. God, you shouldn't want him as badly as you do.

"Can you blame me?" He muttered, dragging his fingers across the lace of your dress, tracing the pattern's loops absentmindedly, watching your jaw tense and lips part to take a gasping breath, your jacket having long vanished into the chaos of the pub. Your arms wound themselves around his neck, fingers twisting into his short hair. "Fucking come 'ere lass."

His strong arms lifted you onto his knee, gripping a thigh to help you balance, the friction of his rough hand against the stiff fabric pushing your dress up slightly. The need for more and the desire to know him completely intoxicated you far more than anything from a bottle; you'd never felt as though you were on fire from your drunk hookups. His fingers found the zip of your dress, tugging it down desperately, gripping the flesh of your exposed shoulder blades. A small groan erupted from your lips as you felt him chuckle below you, pressing a thumb to your lips to quieten you.

"John," you whined, pouting playfully against his thumb.

"I'll sort you out, I swear," He muttered, slipping his thumb between your lips. Instinctively, you sucked, locking eyes with him, his hand straying from your back to roughly grab your jaw, holding your gaze. "But if you're going to scream your 'ead off, we'll get caught."

"You wish you could make me scream, John-lad."

"Come off it, I could ruin you, Y/N." He stated, lifting your jaw, as though memorising the construction of your face, tone brimming with a cocky confidence only John could make attractive. "You want that?"

"More than anything." The words tumbled out of your mouth thoughtlessly, watching how his jaw tightened in response as you attempted to read his expression. He studied you for what must've only been a few seconds, but the moment passed so slowly, you could barely remember what it felt like to not be examined by his dominating blue eyed stare.

His grip guided your face to his, fingers tilting your chin so John's lips could brush against yours, before pulling you into a heated almost aggressive kiss, the straps of your dress barely grazing your shoulders, the hem of your dress bunching around your waist as he reached down your back to grab your bum in a firm squeeze. Your mouth gaped open in a gasp of pleasure, John taking the moment to run his tongue against your lips, gaining access and deepening the kiss. You were so caught up in the thrill of John's seduction that you hadn't noticed his hand suddenly pull away after moving your skimpy underwear to one side. You had instinctively ground your hips against him, he'd broken the kiss to let out a string of curses, complimenting you through his quickening breaths (“Fuckin’ wet for me already, aye?”), gripping your thigh. But as soon as he had pulled the thin silk from your thighs, the atmosphere shifted, his lip curling in frustration as his hands left your skin as though your flesh was suddenly scalding.

"John?" You prompted, resting a hand on his shoulder, noticing the dark shadows under his eyes for the first time.

"It's getting late."

"What?" Your voice sounded high and whiny, you mentally scolded yourself for sounding so needy. It was embarrassing to be rejected by the man you've admired for many years, but even worse to be openly vulnerable and so pathetic in front of your best friend's brother.

Ada.

Oh fuck.

Realisation hit you, it was either that or the unholy quantity of alcohol you'd downed which turned your stomach. You had gone too far this time. It was one thing to flirt with John and desire him from a distance, it was an absolute betrayal to have sex with him, knowing Ada's insecurity about being used to get close to her gangster brothers- sex, power and politics. You had sworn during those tearful walks around the canal that you'd never hurt her. You couldn't do that to her.

Your sudden panic must've been obvious, you tried to stand up from John's lap, stumbling slightly, only regaining balance due to a sudden arm across your back, anchoring you upright.

"No one has to know. It's our secret yeah?" He muttered into your ear, his words comforting.

You nodded silently, the reality of the situation settling in. Your hands are shaking by your sides, John catches them, locking his fingers with yours.

"It's fine, now. Nothing happened yeah?" He stood up in front of you, his muscular physique looming before you, the creases across his torso reminding you that just a few minutes ago his body was under yours, he was breathless, needing your skin against his, desperate and vulnerable. "I'll zip you up. Turn around."

His hands dropped from yours to fumble clumsily with your zip, struggling in the gloom and fog of intoxication, he eventually succeeded, the lace clinging to the curve of your hips, waist, back and chest again. You wished it was him instead that was skimming your figure but you pushed the thought away with a simple, "Thanks."

"I'll walk you home yeah?" He offered, as he straightens your skirt and his tie, allowing you to fix his crumpled shirt collar and the row of shining buttons below his throat which you'd ripped open as he whispered dirty nonsense in your ear, smirking at how you arched your back and swore back at him through your moans.

"Isaiah already said he would, it'd be better for us both that way. You know how people around here talk." You replied, glancing at the mirror on the wall of the booth to quickly smooth your tousled hair. Despite only recently returning to Small Heath, you'd already encountered the rife gossiping and quickly realised your neighbour was incapable of minding his own business. "Nobody has to know, right?"

John nodded, disappointed but appreciating your rationale and quick thinking despite your state, "Right."

"Good night, John," You said politely, ignoring the tension in his tone and the sudden soft sadness of his eyes, turning your back and walking to the door. Back to the sticky dance floor, back to Ada, Isaiah, Finn, Tokyo, back to spilling drinks, ashing cigarettes, back to noise, safety and far from the man who made your morals vanish with the same lines he uses on probably every single one of his conquests. Fuck it. You were going to enjoy it, you sped up your pace in your heels, trying to ignore your shaking legs. You tried to ignore the guilty twang in your gut when Ada screamed your name across the pub and stumbled over, dragging some lad on her arm, pressing drunken kisses to your forehead and cheeks.

You couldn't help but look back to see his shadow sloping away into the darkness of the booths closer to the dance floor, being bullied mercilessly by his brothers you assumed. You watched him fake a smirk, take the knuckles to his brow from Arthur, snap an insult back to Thomas and settle into his rightful seat. You only shifted your gaze to Ada for a moment but when you looked back up, he was staring at you, jaw tense, icy stare burning into yours, arms folded on the table, the gold chains of his sleeve garters barely glinting in the dim light. He looked away but you could see his cheeks were flushed with blood even in the glow of the oil lamps.

Pretending nothing happened was going to be impossible.

***

to be continued!

[osamustar]

High School Sweetheart

Part three

Previous - Next

No trigger warnings provided.

Sexual content.

Female reader.

You wanted to rip all of these chords off of you, and run to the station to Michael. What were they doing to him? Was he okay? You were worried about your lover. Jason sat quietly next to you as he waited for the others to come back. Billy had gone off to either scream or flirt with some nurses, and Freddy went to get you some snacks from downstairs. “Jason… Hey…” You nudged him, making him jump out of his little daze he was in. “Help me get out of here. I need to see Michael.” “Y/N, I don’t think that’s a good idea…” “Jason, please. They’re going to tear him apart in there and you know it. I was a prime witness, I can defend him.” Jason knew you were right, but was scared. “It’s okay, Jason. You aren’t going to get in trouble.” You assured him.

Jason turned off several of the machines, and ripped off the dozens of chords all over your body. “Jason, what the hell are you doing?” Freddy walked in with a bag of snacks and drinks. “W-We have to get her to the station, Freddy.” He stuttered. “Freddy, please. We can’t let Michael to go jail… I saw what happened, I can help defend him.” “Defend him with what, Y/N? It wasn’t self defense. He attacked first.” Freddy laughed, pushing Jason away from your bed. “You have to stay here and get your rest. He has a lawyer. A good one at that… He’ll get him out. Stop worrying so much.” You were silent. You held yourself back from punching him in the face. “Michael was defending me. Travis was touching me in a way that made me feel uncomfortable.” “That doesn’t change the situation, Y/N.” Freddy chuckled, connecting the chords back to your body, and flicking on the machines. “You won’t be in here long, just calm down. You’ll probably be out later today.”

The rest of the time you were there you didn’t speak. You were pissed. You knew Freddy always had the best in mind for you, but in this situation you were not having it. You wanted out. You were completely fine why were you still even here? After hours of waiting your doctor came in, “Alright, Y/N. It looks like everything is fine now, and you can head on home. No driving for a few days, and make sure you have people around to watch over you.” He explained as he helped you up. “Yeah… Thanks.” You mumble, grabbing your stuff, and quickly walking out of the room. Freddy sighed, “Sorry, Doc… She’s not in the best mood right now. We’ll watch her.” The boys ran after you, following you into the elevator. “You guys don’t have to treat me like this, I’m fine.” “Doctor’s orders, champ.” Freddy smiled, patting your back. “I hate you.”

You made Billy speed to the station. You were in a hurry. You burst through the doors of the station, “Woah! Hey there… Slow down.” A cop stopped you, “What you in such a rush for?” He chuckled. “Michael Myers.” You glare. “You the girlfriend he talks so dearly about? He’ll be out in a second, he’s finishing up his question— Speak of the devil.” Michael walked out beside a very nicely dressed man with a briefcase, who you assumed was his lawyer. You ran up to him, jumping into his arms. Michael let out a loud grunt, holding onto you, “Missed me that much?” He chuckled. You were quiet, just happy to be able to hold him again.

Michael dropped you, “I gotta go sign some papers, just… Wait here. I’m not going anywhere.” Michael held your shoulders, giving you a serious glare. You nodded, watching him as he left the hallway. You turned towards his lawyer with a smile, “Hi! I’m Y/N! It’s nice to meet you.” You put your hand out to shake. He took your hand, “Saul Goodman. Michael is good to go. Travis isn’t pressing charges.” A wave of relief washed over you, “Oh thank god… I was so worried.” You sighed. You heard the doors open, the boys walking in panting. “Jeez, Y/N. Think you could’ve waited for us?” Freddy tried catching his breath. “Not my fault y’all are slow.”

“You watch out for Michael. If something like this happens again, I’m not sure there’s much I can do.” Saul warned. You nodded, “thank you. He’s getting talked to once we leave.” Saul raised his wrist, “well I have to get going. You kids be careful out there.” He smiled, squeezing through the group and out the doors. You turned to the boys, glaring at Freddy. “You asshole! You made me think Michael was going away for sure!” You shoved him back. “Yeah well obviously that dickhead Travis survived… I didn’t think he was.” Freddy shrugged. “He obviously doesn’t want Michael to have a grudge on him.” Billy laughed, “kid is probably cowering in his hospital bed right now.” “Billy shut up.” Michael smacked him up the side of the head, “can we get out of here, please? I’m starving.”

“I can take us to the diner to get a bite.” Billy suggested. “Can you take me home? I’m tired.” Jason whispered, rubbing his eyes. “Sure man, you gonna be alright? Your mom might get mad at you for that party.” Billy asked, concerned. “She’ll just be glad that I-I’m safe.” Jason replied. You looked up at Michael. He had developed dark bags underneath his eyes, and his hair was a curly mess. He looked pissed off. You intertwined your fingers with his, squeezing his hand. He didn’t stop looking forward. He was exhausted, and hangry. All he wanted to do was tear into a big fat juicy burger right now, it was all he could think about. “Alright, well… Let’s get going.” Billy pulled out his truck keys, exiting the building as everyone else followed. Michael let go of your hand, walking on ahead in front of you. You frowned, clasping your hands together, unsure of what was going on with him.

“Did I do something wrong..?” You caught up to Michael, looking up at him. “Y/N I really don’t want to talk right now.” His voice was low. You knew he was upset, but not this upset. He was never like this towards you, it was concerning. “Michae—“ “Y/N. Shut the fuck up.” He hissed. Your eyes widened, stopping in the middle of the road. Tears brimmed your eyes, but you quickly blinked them away, taking a deep breath and continuing to walk behind them all. Billy got into the drivers seat, starting up the truck with a roar of the engine. Freddy sat beside him, leaving you, Jason, and Michael to sit in the back. “Fuck, Freddy! Push your chair up!” Michael yelled, barely being able to squeeze his legs in the back. “I can’t push it up anymore!” “Figure it out before I sit up there.” Michael groaned. Freddy fumbled with the bar underneath the seat, pushing on it as hard as he could. It fell down, the seat flying forward and crushing Freddy’s knees into the dashboard. “Ah, fuck!” He cried out, “there! you happy?!” “Yeah, thanks.” Michael stretched his legs out. “Asshole…” Freddy mumbled. “You’re fucking up my truck man!” Billy whined. “Not my fault Michael’s a fucking tree.” Freddy retorted. You couldn’t help but giggle along with Jason.

Billy dropped off Jason at his house, his mother basically dragging him inside, glaring at everyone in the truck as she did so. “His mom’s such a weirdo.” Billy sighed, shifting gears and pulling out of the driveway. “She just loves Jason… Have you never experienced that before?” You asked Billy. “My mom doesn’t treat me like a fucking five year old.” He replied. “Dude, he’s autistic, of course she’s going to treat him like that. It’s probably scary letting him out with kids like us.” Freddy told Billy, shoving him. “Hey! Don’t fuck with the driver!” Billy smacked Freddy. “Jason can handle himself. Kid’s perfectly capable of killing someone.” Michael sighed. “Aren’t we all…” Freddy mumbled. You looked around the truck at the three of them, knowing damn well you were not capable of killing someone.

The drive to the diner was long. You ended up falling asleep on Michael’s shoulder. He had the strong urge to shove you off, but remembered you just got out of the hospital. He’d tame his grumpiness for now. “Be nice to her, man… She really loves you. She wanted to go make sure you were okay the entire time she was in that place.” Freddy turned to look at Michael. You were still sound asleep. Michael was silent, not wanting to respond. Freddy rolled his eyes, going back to looking out the windshield. “That mushroom swiss burger is calling out my name right now.” Billy moaned, turning into the driveway of the diner, finding a place to park. “Shut up weirdo.” Freddy laughed.

“Hey… Wake up.” Michael shoved you awake. You whined softly, picking up your head, looking around. Michael got out of the truck, walking to stand on the sidewalk. You crawled out, slamming the door shut. Michael was staring at you with dark eyes, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. A look you didn’t want to see again after the fight. You gulped, looking down at the ground, following the boys inside. You guys sat in your usual booth, a waitress bringing by some menus, even though you all had memorized it from coming here so often. “So what they do to you in there, man?” Billy leaned forward to listen to Michael. “They shoved me into a cell until morning and then they questioned me… Let me go once they found out that kid wasn’t pressing charges.” Michael shrugged. The waitress came by with drinks, setting them down in front of everyone. “Thank you.” You smiled at her, knowing the boys wouldn’t acknowledge her.

“You look like shit.” Billy laughed. “Yeah I haven’t slept.” Michael chugged down his tea, gasping once he finished it all. You were quiet the entire time, staring out the window to your left. You were upset with Michael. You didn’t deserve to get treated like shit when you did nothing. Michael’s hand clasped around your thigh, squeezing it as he continued to talk to Billy and Freddy. You side eyed his hand, not sure what he was trying to say. His hand trailed up your leg, creeping underneath your dress. You stiffened, your breath hitching in your throat. His fingers pressed up against your heat, pushing themselves in between your folds. You pursed your lips, trying to act it off. “What can I get you guys?” Michael’s hand quickly pulled away, settling atop the table to grab his menu. You turned towards the waitress, smiling at her. “I’ll have the mushroom swiss burger… Extra fries. Can I have extra grilled onions too?” Billy looked up at the waitress with flirtatious eyes. She completely ignored his gaze, writing down in her little notebook. “Okay, what else?” She looked back up. “Two bacon cheeseburgers… And a refill please.” Michael set his menu on top of Billy’s. “Got it.” The waitress looked over at you. “I’ll have a plain cheeseburger.” “I’ll have the avocado burger.” Freddy said after you. “Okay… I’ll be back with your refill.” She smiled down at Michael. Michael nodded, sliding all of the menus to her. She picked them up, and walked away. “God, she’s fine as hell.” Billy sighed. “Do you ever—“ Billy interrupted Freddy, “No, I don’t.”

Michael looked down at you, smirking at your flustered face. He leaned down to your ear, “keep quiet and maybe I’ll be nice.” He purred, pulling away to look back at the boys. You were confused on what he meant until his fingers crept underneath your dress, finding themselves buried in your panties. “Yo, Y/N. You good?” Billy waved a hand in front of your face. Your eyes flicked up with a quick nod, “yes, sorry. I zoned out.” You giggle, grabbing the straw given to you, pulling off the paper, and stuffing it into your drink. Michael acted as if nothing was happening, talking calmly to his friends as his fingers circled around your clit. You came back to reality again, zoning in onto their conversation to catch up.

“Dude, remember that time you got into a fight with Charles Ray?” Billy asked. “Chucky? That kid was so lame. Started crying for the coach when he saw I had my pocket knife clipped on.” Michael laughed, “Coach Leeman! Coach Leeman! He’s gonna kill me Coach! Help me Coach Leeman!” Michael waved his hand in the air in distress, mocking him. “He’s such a pussy. Woah, Y/N, you okay there?” Billy looked over at you, noticing your labored breathing. You nodded, “y-yeah it’s just um… Anxiety.” “Why are you having anxiety?” Freddy pitched in. “I uh… I have to go home after this to pick some things up and I’m just scared what my Dad’s gonna do… It’s always a mystery with him.” You smiled, looking away from him as fast as possible.

Michael’s fingers slipped inside of you, making scissoring motions, stretching you out. He slowly pumped them in and out of you, trying to keep his arm as stiff as possible so the boys didn’t notice. The waitress came back by with the plates of your orders, making Michael pull his hand away. He stared at his plate, sticking his wet fingers into his mouth, cleaning them off. Billy and Freddy were too entranced by their food to notice Michael. You took a deep breath, calming yourself down. You crossed your legs to prevent Michael from continuing if he so dared. You didn’t know why you let him in the first place, your seat was probably soaked by now.

——————————————————————————

“God, I’m stuffed!” Billy poked his belly out, rubbing it. You giggled, smacking his stomach, “You got a whole food baby!” “His name shall be Jared.” Billy laughed, opening the door to his truck. “Alright, am I taking you two home?” He turned to Michael and you. “Could you run by my house and then drop us off at Michael’s?” You asked. “Oh yeah, I forgot… Sure. Hop in.” Billy grabbed onto the handle above the door, pulling himself up onto the seat. Michael stopped you before you opened the door, turning you to face him. He grabbed your chin gently, leaning down to kiss you. You smiled, cupping his cheeks. “I’m sorry… I love you…” He whispered, pecking your lips again. “I love you too. Let’s get home and talk about it, alright?” You peck his lips back, turning around to hop into the back of the truck. Michael stared at you for a moment before following you in.

Billy brought you by your house, pulling into the driveway. You lived in a old trailer park not far from where Michael lived. The trailer looked like absolute shit, as it was abused over the years. Many liquor and beer bottles littered the ground, with cigarette butts scattered everywhere. “You be careful in there, alright? We’ll be watching.” Billy assured you. “Yeah… Thank you…” You stepped out of the truck, hopping onto the ground. You walked down the walkway and up the stairs to the door. You opened the screen door, unlocking the main door, stepping inside. So far so good, no sign of your drunken father. You quietly crept to your room, grabbing a bag, stuffing it full of clothes. “Y/N? Is that you?” Oh fuck. Heavy footsteps made their way towards your bedroom until they came to an abrupt halt. You slowly turned around to face your father with a small smile, “Hey Dad… I’m just stopping by to get some clothes, I’ll be out of your hair in a few min—“ “I don’t give a fuck! Get out before my boys get here. Hurry your ass up.” He spat, waving his bottle around. You nodded, zipping up your bag. “Why the hell haven’t you moved out already? You stay with that damn boyfriend of yours so much you practically live with him! You’re eighteen, you can leave.” He grumbled, leaning against the doorway, looking as if he was about to pass out. “I-I’ll figure something out, Dad. I gotta—“ “Stop calling me that! You aren’t my damn child. Never were. You were a mistake. I begged your mother to get rid of you, and that bitch went ahead and made the decision to keep you and died doing it.” You sighed, “I understand, please move out of my way…” You were used to this type of talk from him, it was nothing new. “Give me a kiss and maybe I’ll let you pass.” He smiled, his disgusting yellow, blackened teeth dulled in the light. You grimaced, shoving him out of the way. “What the fuck! Hey!” He yelled, trudging after you. You opened the door, and slammed it in his face. He screamed from behind the door, struggling to get it back open. You ran down the stairs as he walked out onto the porch, screaming. He raised his arm, throwing his bottle at your back. You groaned, turning around to face him, the bottle shattering against the concrete. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You yell. You heard the truck door slam, and shoes crunching against the rocks on the ground. Michael. He gently pushed you towards the truck as he walked over to your father. “Michael, no! Don’t!” You grab his arm, tugging him back. Michael glared at you, ripping away from your grasp. “What the hell do you think you’re doin’ boy?” Your dad questioned Michael’s doing. He walked up the stairs to your clueless father, slamming him against the wall. Michael swung his fist into his face, throwing him to the ground. Michael stared down at his pathetic form, spitting on his figure. “Hurt her again and I’ll fucking kill you.” Michael shoved him with his foot, a low groan leaving your father. You stared in shock, hoping your father was okay. Yet at the same time you prayed he was hurt beyond repair. You winced, reaching around to touch your back. It was definitely going to leave a nasty bruise.

Michael walked down the stairs, and to you. His hand pressed against your lower back, leading you back to the truck, “You’re moving in with me.” You weren’t even going to argue. Your father was a disgusting man, and staying with him did you no good. You didn’t know why you hadn’t moved out sooner. He wanted you gone, and he was going to receive his wish. “Did he fucking throw a bottle at you?!” Billy asked in shock, hanging out the window. “Billy.” Michael gave him a death glare. “Yeah yeah…” Billy mumbled, quickly rolling up the window. Michael opened the door for you, throwing your bag inside. He helped you up, getting in after you. “Please hurry and leave before his friend’s arrive…” You beg. Billy stayed silent as he pulled out of the driveway, speeding out of the park. He didn’t want to waste a second more in that hell hole.

“We’ll see you tomorrow!” Billy smiled, waving at the two of you. You waved back, a saddened smile on your face. You felt like you were about to break down. Michael rubbed your back, giving them a quick wave before rushing you inside of the house. You didn’t want to go to school tomorrow. You just wanted to lay in Michael’s arms all day and cry into his chest. You threw your bag down onto Michael’s bed, pulling off your dress. Michael’s hands snaked around your waist, pressing himself into you. He pressed soft kisses into your neck, trailing them up to your jaw. “You wanna take a bath..?” He asked quietly, caressing your hips. You hummed, nodding, “that sounds nice.” Michael stood with you for a few more moments, kissing all over your shoulders. “I love you.” He pressed one last kiss to your cheek, leaving to his bathroom.

You walked into the steamy bathroom. Michael had lit a few candles on the rim of the bathtub, and the counter. “I hope this is relaxing enough.” He chuckled. “It’s lovely, babe.” You smile, unhooking your bra, letting it drop to the tile. You leaned down, sliding off your underwear, shoving them to the side and out of the way. You lifted your foot up, stepping into the warm water. You settled down, the water rising against your body. You let out a loud sigh, resting your arms on the outside of the tub. Michael pulled up a stool beside the tub, sitting down on it. He ran his fingers through your hair, kissing the top of your head. His hands found their way to your shoulders, massaging them. You moaned softly, rolling your shoulders against his hands.

You closed your eyes, relaxing. Michael’s hands pulled away from you. You heard the rustle of clothing being taken off, and dropping to the floor. “Sit up.” He ordered. You opened your eyes, seeing his naked body in all his glory. You gulped, quickly pushing yourself to the front of the tub. “I was going to stay out but I prefer a different type of relaxation.” You didn’t quite understand what he meant by that. Michael stepped in behind you, sitting down with his legs spread. He pulled you close to him, settling between his legs. You laid your head on his shoulder, smiling, “we’ve never done this before…” “Mhm.” Michael hummed, leaning down to kiss your neck, gently sucking on your soft skin. You leaned back, exposing more of your neck to him. Your body jolted up, his fingers slipping in between your folds. You now know what he meant by a “different type of relaxation.” You didn’t mind this type at all. After all, you deserved it after what you’ve been through today.

You took in a deep inhale, squeezing your legs together around his hand. You felt his member harden against your backside. You whined as his fingers rubbed you out. You squirmed against his body, two of his fingers slipping inside of you, moving just how you liked it. You cried out, your back arching as your head shot back. His thumb lingered on your vulva, swirling around it. “Michael…” You gasped, head rolling around in his shoulder. “What baby…” He pressed his lips to your cheek, “talk to me.” You grabbed onto his hand, squeezing it with all your might. “Right there… Right there!” You yearned for his touch, wanting him to provide you with even more ecstasy. He was addictive. You could stay like this for hours, and he probably was going to have it that way. He would edge you all night until he had you screaming his name, begging to let you cum. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

[slasherrabbitmadness]

Beach day with the Slashers

Female Reader -Bo- Gender-neutral -everyone else-

Bo- Fingering but no penetration. Dirty talk.

Angst and Fluff with Herbert and Dan (They pronouns used for Y/N) Fluff with Michael and Jason.

Michael Myers (1978 with the extra height of the 2018 one)

> Wants to visit the beach during the day. He’ll even have his mask off. Instead of enjoying the beautiful view of the sun hitting the blue ocean, you spend your day staring at your handsome boyfriend.

> Michael is just there to scan for new victims. He kills people who litter, hates seeing wrappers and cigarette butts littered across nature.

> You egg him on to go swimming, it takes a lot of coaxing. “Please, Michael, just for a little bit.” He points to your belongings on the towel, “They’ll be fine, who’s gonna want to steal some sandwiches and some towels?” He shook his head. You got down on your knees and gave him sad puppy dog eyes. He grumbled then lifted you onto his shoulder, you squealed as you placed your hands on his firm back, rubbing his taut muscles.

> When he got up to his pecs in the water he threw you in. You came up for air, “Mikey, what the hell!?”

> “What? You wanted in the water.” He gave a small smile.

> He made you swim in front of the beach while he just stood in the water and watched. He knew you’d be fine, it was your belongings he was worried for. You caught his eyes, his already dark blue eyes were now matching the deepest parts of the ocean. He barreled through the water, pushing you aside. You watched him as he made his way up onto the beach.

> Some fuck had the bright idea to do some stealing. He just happens to choose the one man’s belongings you don’t fuck with.

> Before that guy had time to react to a six-foot-three man, hauling ass like he is a tiger chasing after a deer, Michael clocked him so hard in the face the man immediately went down.

> People stood around Michael, some congratulating him for knocking out a thief, others gawked “My God he swung that punch so hard.” “Is the thief even breathing?” Michael stood over your belongings, and turned back towards you, just making your way out of the ocean. Michael was mad, but not as mad at what he saw next.

> Some random beach Chad made his way over to you, “Yo, that was wild huh?” You gave a quick, “Ya.” not caring to speak to him, just wanted to get back to your boyfriend. “He just knocked that guy out in one punch.” You made your way up the beach, he grabbed at you “Hey, be careful, probably want to stay aw-”

>The poor sap never stood a chance, Michael swung his fist so hard Chad went flying back into the water.

> “I’ve had enough, we're leaving.”

> You were gonna protest, but when you scanned the crowd, you realized that yeah, we’re gonna go home.

> Walking back home, Michael held your hand, tightly. “Mikey?” He grunts, “You don’t like people touching your belongings, huh?” You turned to look up at him and he caught you in a kiss. He snuck his tongue in, dominating yours, you moaned and he pulled away. You whined and he smiled.

> “what’s mine is mine.”

Jason Voorhees

> He’s the beach’s lifeguard, so if you wanna spend a beach day with Jason, you’ll have to do it after hours. You would, but Jason takes the evening shifts too.

> Everybody loved Jason. Kids loved him, he was always so nice to them after all. He gave them swimming lessons. He was always so patient with them, never getting mad if a kid was struggling to grasp the basics.

> Men and Women loved Jason. His stoic demeanor, his calming presence...his bulging muscles. Jason was oblivious to all kinds of flirting. “Your hands are like, so big!” said a bubbly tanned beach bunny. Jason just grunts. A muscle-bound beach bro asked, “Bet you lift a lot eh, what’s your macros?” Jason just looked at his large bicep, he shrugged.

> When you visit him at work he gives you small waves then his eyes go right back to the water, not wanting to miss anything. Dedicated <3

> He doesn’t take a proper lunch break, he’ll eat his food while watching the beach, scarfing down the food as fast as possible.

> After a long day, you’ll finally have Jason all to yourself.

> Night swimming!

> You and Jason have splash fights, that he often wins, his large palms create huge splashes that knock you back into the water.

> Keeps you incredibly close in the water, will bug you to wear a life jacket if you ever swam without him. He’s very protective.

> Holds you close to him the further out you go. He won’t let you go, so it’s the perfect time to smother him in kisses.

> Jason hums into your kisses, his large hands running up and down your back, the water and his hands feel perfect on your skin.

> Jason couldn’t be happier that you're together.

Herbert West + Dan Cain - Poly relationship or what Derrick Barry calls a ‘throuple’

> “Please Herbert, for me?” He grimaced at you. Don’t you know how busy he is? Perfect specimens don’t just end up dead you know? Someones gotta end a life! You sighed and brought out the big gun. “Well, Dan said-” The moment Dan left your lips, Herbert was pushing you and him out the door.

> You and Dan had a blast, building castles, collecting seashells, playing some beach volleyball with another friendly couple.

> Herbert sulked under the beach umbrella, nose in a large medical textbook.

> “If you come with us, Herbert, we’ll get you a grape freezie!” Dan coaxed but it did not affect Herbert. Herbert waved you both off as if you were two mosquitoes bugging him.

> You and Dan walked hand in hand, swinging them in between yourself on your way to the little concession stand. “You sure it was for the best we brought him, Dan?” Dan looked at you and frowned, your eyes were a little glossy. “He only came because you were coming.” You felt the tears rolling down your cheek.

> “fuck, Herbert, you little monster.” Dan cursed to under his breath. Dan knew Herbert gravitated more towards him. It’s not that Herbert didn’t like you, just Dan was there first. Dan never told you but he often caught Herbert staring at you, a softness in his eyes that Dan knew meant one thing…

> “I’m sorry…” You mumbled, quickly rubbing the back of your hand over your eyes. Dan shushed you and brought you in for a hug, kissing the top of your head.

> “Don’t be, Herbert should be. Some Vitamin D is much needed for his pale little body. I’ll talk to him, okay? In the meantime, focus on me!”

> Dan and you continued with the most fun day ever. You ate your freezies, swapping flavors halfway through. A little boy asked Dan to help with flying his kite, Dan’s height coming in handy.

> Herbert stewed in his spot under the umbrella, watching you and Dan have fun, “Hmph, wasting time.” He kept peeking from his book, eyes on you, how you smiled when you looked into Dan’s eyes, how you leaned in closer, head resting on his shoulder. How Dan wrapped his arm around your waist, lips on your ear whispering...God knows what, Herbert can only imagine.

> “They could just yank me away from this, make me spend time with them...not that I want to. But if they dragged me away from my book then I’d have no choice.”

> When it got late, You and Dan packed away everything into the bags, Herbert supervised. How helpful/s

> Dan had you drop a few of the smaller items at the car on your own, he made Herbert help with some of the heavier items. As your figure became smaller and smaller in the distance, Dan turned to Herbert, “You know, they wer-”

> “I can’t believe you two, frolicking about so openly.” Herbert had cut Dan off. Herbert fumbled with the bags while trying to push up his glasses. Dan fumed.

> “You mean act like a couple, which we are, which you're a part of. Or are you only a couple with me?”

> Herbert snapped “excuse me, you and Y/N are most certainly a couple, which I have no part of.”

> Dan scoffed and shook his head “They want to be with you too, Herbert, They do like you, They feel upset with how you treat them. Now I know deep down you adore them, you best start showing it.”

> Herbert stopped, he looked at Dan and then at you in the distance starting the car.

> Later that night, Herbert had asked if you’d help in the basement. As tired as you were, you went to help. Herbert scarcely looked at you, but he found ways to touch you. Hands ghosting over yours as you handed him some flasks. Grabbing your hips softly to move you out of the way.

> “Everything good, Herbert?” You asked. His eyes looked everywhere but you. He stepped a little closer to you, His face only a foot away.

> He smashed his lips onto yours and wrapped you up in his arms. His hands rubbing along your sides, pulling you in so tight you were surprised he was strong enough to bring pain that way.

> “Don’t cry over me. Okay?” Your face felt hot, you nodded. “You are mine too, not just Dan’s, okay?” You nodded again. “Good. Now kiss me.”

> The kiss started tender but that just wasn’t gonna cut it with all the tension between you two.

Bo Sinclair /Female reader/

> Lookin’ at all the pretty girls go by.

> Catches you catching him staring, flashes his baby blues at you, “C’mon darling, you know you're still the apple of mah eye.”

> Gets pissed when other guys check you out. Strolls on over and wraps an arm around you, sneering at the Chads and Kyles.

> “You just had to wear that sexy little number, didn’t ya?” He snarled in your face. You grabbed your tits in the cute red bikini and gave them a Lil shake.

> Bo yanked you away from the beach, you protested, hitting his large forearm, “Bo, what the hell? Oh come on, you act like a leech an-” He cut you off, his lips slammed onto yours, the kiss was teeth and a little tongue action.

> Bo had yanked you away to some run-down looking bathrooms, the paint was so old it looked like the original coat from the 1960s

> “Now, Darlin, looks like you’ve just been wanting to rial me up now, huh? Wanting those sons of bitches to fuck you?” He leaned in close to your ear, his heavy breathing making you shake with anticipation. He suckled on it, causing you to buckle at the knees.

> “Bo, no I didn’t wan-want ah, the- them to” You were panting as he made small circles on your clit over your bikini bottoms. His fingers were calloused but he could be surprisingly gentle.

> “Now, yah best be quiet so no one hears ya, understood, Doll?” You whimpered and Bo flashed you his pearly whites. “That’s a good girl.”

> You should make him jealous more often.

[calumxkisses]

Us | c.h.

pairing: calum hood x f!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none

summary: Michael and Crystal take you and Calum along to visit their wedding hall and it's the perfect location for a dance full of love.

a/n: am i obsessed with the idea of dancing with Calum? yes. let me know if you liked it. i'm still not really good at writing fluff imagines but i'm learning and i'll hopefully do better in the future.

you should read this imagine while listening to: us

➳

“So, this is the wedding hall?” Calum asks as he enters looking around the room. The structure is huge, there is still a lot to do but some decorations have already been fixed.

“Yeah, there are a few things we would like to change but it’s pretty much gonna be like this.” Michael responds, walking inside the room and looking around.

“It's lovely, guys. It's like being in a fairy tale.” You whisper while looking around the room. Your fingers are barely intertwined with Calum's as you look at the room, admiring the ceiling and the windows overlooking the sea.

You turn to Crystal and notice a tear running down her face as she admires the room. A smile forms on your face as you see your best friend so happy, her dream is coming true and you couldn't feel more proud of her.

This marriage has overcome the strangest obstacles, the biggest certainly was having to be postponed due to a pandemic, but their love has never stopped in front of these, it has grown more and more and to be able to be among the witnesses of their love is among the things you are most grateful for.

The room is very large, has an oval shape and is surrounded by windows overlooking the sea. Some tables have already been set up and embellished, they are also circular in shape and have floral decorations in the center. The tablecloth is embroidered in lace, it is pearl white but the different colored decorations, which accompany the flowers in the center, make the table look wonderful and original, recalling Crystal's passion for plants.

The chairs that surround them, simple but still elegant, have ribbons that decorate them. They’re gold and white, yet their simple design makes them look gorgeous.

“We are going to talk to the wedding planner to fix some things, in the meantime you can stay here and see if there is something else that we should change.” Crystal's voice grabs your attention, as she approaches Michael and takes his hand in hers. The wedding planner is at the entrance, smilingly waits for the couple and, for a moment, you think that there can’t be a more beautiful job than being able to make the dreams of couples come true.

“Calum, can you check that the stereo is working? They told me they fixed it but I haven't been able to check it yet, you'd be doing me a big favor.” Michael asks as he leaves the room grinning and not leaving time to Calum to reply.

“Gotcha.” Your boyfriend replies, shaking his head in amusement and smiling.

As Calum approaches the speakers, you take another moment to admire the room.

Looking up, your breath locks in your chest as Crystal's gorgeous decorations leave you in awe. The ceiling, which was previously simply white and wooden, is decorated with strips of tulle hanging like waves, giving life to a sense of peace and softness. The stripes extend all over the ceiling, giving the impression of being in the middle of the clouds.

In addition to the tulle, in a delicate way, some threads of small lights descend from the ceiling, romantically illuminating the room and creating an intimate and unobtrusive atmosphere.

A small elegant chandelier hangs in the center of the room, it is gold and its light is not as strong as someone might think, it is ideal to keep the room more illuminated in the most important moments, but its presence is more scenic than functional.

Some leaves and some flowers come down intertwined along the edges of the windows, hiding the window frame and making the atmosphere of the room even more simple and elegant.

The main theme is certainly white and gold, but Crystal and Michael made sure to add a few more hints of color as well, in order to make the room less monotonous and more fairytale.

The light inside the room disappears, leaving only the small lights that descend from the ceiling on. You open your mouth to ask what happened, but the words do not come out as your gaze rests on the sea outside the room, calm as in the best days, while a wonderful sunset is reflecting on the clear water. The sky is painted orange and pink, some clouds are scattered in the sky and you no longer have any doubts on why your friends have chosen this location.

There is a sense of peace in the air and you feel like you are in a different world, in a world of calm and joy, while the land where you have lived in these difficult months seems a distant memory.

“It's beautiful, isn't it?” Calum whispers in your ear as his hands rest on your hips from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder and looking outside.

“If it's a dream, please don't wake me up.” You whisper, closing your eyes and letting the sea air coming in through the window on your left, caress your face.

“I could never do that, you are too beautiful when you sleep.” You can see him smile as he whispers those words and, as every time he smiles, you smile too. There is something contagious about his joyful expressions, they warm your heart and you can't help but share them with him.

“Does the stereo system work?” You ask after a few minutes of silence, turning around to face him and leaving a quick kiss on his lips.

“Do you want to try it with me?” he asks with a smile, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket and pressing a couple of buttons on the screen.

“What do you mean?” A confused expression forms on your face. The long lilac summer dress moves with every blow of the wind but the summer temperature makes sure that you don't feel cold.

Calum puts the phone back in his pocket and, after a few seconds, the first notes of your favorite love song can be heard throughout the room.

While you smile, your boyfriend clears his throat and, reaching out his hand, asks you: “May I have this dance?”

Your cheeks turn red and the muscles of your face stretch into an even bigger smile as you nod and grab his hand. Calum walks you to the center of the room and holds your hips, bringing you closer to him.

And, as the first words of one of the most beautiful love songs echo in the room, you rest your head on his chest and close your eyes as your feet move to the sweet rhythm of the music.

Sometimes I'm beaten

Sometimes I'm broken

'Cause sometimes this is nothing but smoke

Is there a secret?

Is there a code?

Can we make it better?

'Cause I'm losing hope

Calum had never loved dancing, at least not this much. His footsteps were limited to a few twirls and jumps on stage or some weird movement on the dance floor, when the alcohol level in his body was way too high to be ashamed of anything he was doing. He had always seen dancing as something that did not belong to him, an activity that stressed him more than it should, and he had never imagined that he could love it so much.

But after you arrived in his life, one of the moments he loves the most is to dance with you, at two in the morning, in the kitchen, to the notes of any love song you are obsessed with in that moment, in the peace of the silence and of the sleepless night, while Duke looks at you confused and waits for the right moment to come ask for cuddles.

The way you let him hold you, the way you let yourself be vulnerable in front of him, away from judging eyes, and the way he feels like protecting you, in the darkness of the room, makes him feel a sense of calm that he hasn' t felt for a long time before your presence in his life.

And even if he was the universe's worst dancer and the whole world was watching him, he’d still dance with you.

Tell me how to be in this world

Tell me how to breathe in and feel no hurt

Tell me how could I believe in something

I believe in us

Calum squeezes your hand tightly as, observing you with eyes full of love, he spins you in front of him. The sunlight lights up your face and the man in front of you is sure he has never seen anything more beautiful. You look like a Greek goddess, the kind you hear in stories and in history books, the goddesses who saved the bravest soldiers and helped them in the toughest feats.

This is how he feels, ever since he saw in you a friend - and then a girlfriend - more than an enemy, he saw his little world in fractions being put back into place, with delicacy and love, and he is ready to sacrifice his most important assets to always have you on his side.

The sun is slowly setting, making room for the moon and all its stars. Yet, with him holding you tight, it seems to you that the world has stopped.

After the wreckage

After the dust

I still hear the howling, I still feel the rush

Over the riots, above all the noise

Through all the worry, I still hear your voice

Calum would be able to describe every single moment he walked into the dark and you led his way out with your light. Whenever he had writer's block, whenever anxiety kept him from getting through his day, whenever his thoughts got too dark and the demons took over, you were there.

Your delicate hands caressing his face or the sweet melody of your voice whispering comforting words, Calum remembers every one of these moments, every single one.

When the world becomes too heavy and distressing, he knows that you will be by his side and that you will help him carry the heavy weight.

And when the insecurities make their way into him, you will always be ready to remind him that he deserves to be loved.

So, tell me how to be in this world

Tell me how to breathe in and feel no hurt

Tell me how 'cause I believe in something

I believe in us

Tell me when the light goes out

That even in the dark we will find a way out

Tell me now 'cause I believe in something

I believe in us

Between dance steps, Calum lulls you slowly, the song continues to echo in your ears, and even your jaw relaxes. It’s so calming to not feel the weight of the world and the speed of time but to be able to enjoy this moment with a light heart and a head empty of all worries. In a society that runs fast and demands perfection from everything, having the opportunity to be able to stop and be left alone in love and peace is a luxury that cannot always be granted. Especially when your boyfriend is in an internationally famous band and you are trying to make your smaller, yet still of great value, dreams come true.

There is no worry about having to say the right words, having to wear the best clothes or just being yourself and praying to be accepted by millions of people who don't know you but who judge you as being part of your life.

‘She's not good enough for him’ or ‘He deserves someone more beautiful, with a perfect body, with a good mental health’ or even ‘She doesn't really love him, she does it for the money’ And there are also those gorgeous people he meets often, who work in some radio or who know mutual friends, and immediately those words written under your photos get inside you and make every certainty collapse.

You look at yourself into the mirror and you think they're right, that you're not perfect and that he really deserves one of those cover girls or someone who won't make him worry if you don't answer the phone. Insecurities that, however, under the sheets of a now familiar home, Calum makes you forget about.

And the words he whispers to you every day, the way he looks at you as if you were the most beautiful person in the world, the consideration he has of you, the notes he leaves on the table when he goes out or all those details that he pays attention to, they convince you that he doesn't care what size you are, the color of your skin or the negative thoughts that cross your mind, he loves you for your intelligence, for the kindness you carry in your heart and the delicacy with which you treat him, for the funny sound of your laugh and the way you make him feel in heaven, while reminding him to always keep his feet on the ground. And those comments, those ideas, disappear in the blink of an eye.

And now, like every time you’re with him, with your head on his chest and with his arms holding you, with the sea in the background and the lights that illuminate that corner of paradise that Crystal created, everything seems to be in the right place.

Used to be kids living just for kicks

In cinema seats, learning how to kiss

Running through streets that were painted gold

We never believed we'd grow up like this

Calum had never had good words to describe his love life. He had had love stories he was not proud of, toxic or in which he hadn't really felt strong feelings, and of the only good stories he had had, he didn’t like to tell about them because he was ashamed of how he had lived them. He believed that he hadn’t committed enough or that he hadn’t loved in the right ways.

So, he had decided not to try anymore, to put aside that desire to want to create something with someone and the more the people around him fell in love with and the more he thought about the effort he should have made, and all that stress made him forget the meaning to love. He didn’t want to meet anyone anymore, his life was good as it was.

And when you showed up awkwardly, in ruined makeup and wet clothes, Calum had thought of a thousand reasons why he didn't want to deal with you. Who shows up at an event dressed like this? What kind of girls does Crystal meet? And the way you talked about how your umbrella broke halfway and how you were about to be hit by a car didn't interest him. Calum just wanted to eat at that restaurant, pulled there by his best friends after a day spent in the studio.

And when the party moved to a friend’s house, it only bothered him how carefully you made sure you didn't spill your drink as you moved between dancing bodies and wagging dogs. He couldn't stand how you talked about life to Ashton, the love you put into describing the people who were part of it.

And when he saw you a few weeks later, he hated the way you greeted him and the way you worried about how he was doing. All too cheesy, too filmy and unrealistic.

But then, without realizing it, between one hateful look and another, Calum listened with interest to the way you talked about your passions and hobbies, how you described the places you had visited and the cities you dreamed of seeing. He laughed at you dancing and smiled when you paid attention to what people were saying around you, mentally marking down all the information to make sure to always ask the right questions.

And he found himself wanting the same attention from you, to see the smile you gave to others, dedicated to him. And so his answers to you became less and less cold and he had become less good at hiding his sweet eyes from you.

And even though every cell of his body was asking otherwise, to not feel another broken heart, Calum had decided to kiss you in the backstage of the iHeartRadio 2018, while you were wearing his leather jacket and moving his hair from the front of his eyes.

And the rest is history.

So, tell me how to be in this world

Tell me how to breathe in and feel no hurt

Tell me how 'cause I believe in something

I believe in us

Tell me when the light goes out

That even in the dark we will find a way out

Tell me now 'cause I believe in something

I believe in us

And like when Emily Bronte said ‘Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same’, as in the case of your love, there isn't much to do. You cannot go against fate if two hearts are meant to spend the rest of eternity together.

There are no arguments, reasons or strong enough excuses to separate those who are connected by much more than just love. And that’s what makes you this close, that in the darkness of the world, in the hell of fear and anger, that strong feeling resists, and fighting together is always better than doing it alone.

It’s a strong love, ready to defeat everything that tries to divide it, ready to sacrifice the absolute good of one, in order to spend the rest of life in misery together.

Like the rebellious angels, who preferred an earthly love to the eternal glory of God, so you are bound to laugh and cry together, and there is nothing that can make you happier than that.

Calum turns you around one last time, whispering a compliment in your ear and making your laughter echo across the room. The sun has now set and the stars are taking its place, the lights that descend from the ceiling look like little fairies that got lost admiring your love and the room has taken the shape of a magical forest.

Your friends are at the door of the entrance, with eyes full of love they look at the two of you laughing together and their hearts melt to see you so in love and they can’t help but imagine themselves in your place, in a few weeks, ready to dance and share the same love that you and Calum are sharing.

Breaking the peace of that dream, with pride and a grin on his face, is Michael, clapping and laughing at the way your boyfriend is completely in love with you but also feeling happy to see him so positively changed. He takes a few steps toward you and you don't need to hear him speak to imagine the comments he's thinking, making you and Calum shake your heads smiling.

“Just so you know, I expect to see you dance like that at our wedding too.” Your best friend's sweet voice says as she points at you by moving her finger between you and your boyfriend.

You run toward Crystal, her pink hair is tied up in a low ponytail, with a few tufts running down her face. Her smile is big on her face, lighting up her joyful expression. You have a billion questions to ask her, most of them are about the choices they made for the final decorations and your heart is so full at thinking about your best friends getting married.

You’re too caught up in your happiness to notice Calum, just a dozen steps behind you, smiling to his bandmate while whispering: “I want to spend the rest of my life with her.”

“Well, you know what to do.” Michael responds by nodding with his head and looking proudly at his best friend.

“Will you help me organize the proposal?”

--