#this is what Fredo in my mind looks like

[nukudraws]

I don't care if you hate Ferid or no, this is basically Duke Fredo's look with different eye colour:

Also- Cale literally looks like Ferid and Crowley's lovechild, art of proof:

(artist: @/juunmildflavor on twt)

[weirdsht]

Cliché - LoTCF & Venion Stan! Reader

notes: ngl i took more time dwelling whether i should make this a series. but i never did two series at once because i can't handle the commitment, so i compromised by making it a long oneshot. ALSO TRIGGER WARNING: I put my psych major to work while writing this fic so...

tags: TRIGGER WARNING PLEASE CAREFULLY READ THE TAGS (dw nothing too graphic for every warning) depression, eating disorder, anxiety, self-loathing, torture and abuse, guilt, like lots of guilt, passive to mild suicidal thoughts, not being able to control your body, catatonic depression, anhedonia, blood, cursing, vague novel spoilers, Taylor Stan being the best brother out there, open ending i think, can be seen as hurt/comfort

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are open and welcome

Buy Me Dessert

Navigation Masterlist Platitude (pt. 2)

Tak Tak Tak

The sound of the horses of the carriage filled your ears as soon as you woke up.

…Wait horses?

How could there be horses when you were sure you were inside a lecture hall?

“Young master I’m glad you’re awake. We are nearing Viscount Tolz’s territory.”

Viscount Tolz? That sounds familiar, but you can’t quite put your finger on it as you just woke up.

You observed the unfamiliar place you woke up in. You seem to be inside a carriage, years of reading manhwas, manhuas, mangas and web novels have gotten you familiar as to what they looked like. 

Observing the interior a bit more, you notice that the carriage you are in seems luxurious. That and the servant riding a horse outside the carriage window just called you “young master”. 

‘Did I transmigrate? I swear I was just nodding off during one of my lectures…’

“You. What date is it? My head feels fuzzy from sleeping in this uncomfortable carriage.”

‘I’ve rotten my brain reading that damn isekai genre. I already know the drill, I should be a villain or something. I guess I should be glad I didn’t end up as an animal, those things have gotten popular these days…’

You silently shivered at the thought of being a bird or a snake.

“I’m sorry about the seat young master. You’re custom cushion should be arriving tomorrow. As for the date, it is currently year 780 of the Felix Calendar.”

Shit

By the calendar mentioned you could already tell what series you transmigrated to. There was only one series you know that uses Felix Calendar.

Lout of the Count’s Family

And it looks like you got sucked into that novel a year before things began.

“As soon as that arrives install it in my carriage. This thing is as hard as a brick.”

Contrary to what you say, the seat is very soft and comfortable. However, if you really did transmigrate as a villain like in all those manhwas you’ve read then you figured you have to act as bratty as possible. 

“I understand young master. We are nearing the villa soon, I’m sure young master Neo has prepared your room so you can rest.”

Fuck. You’re fucked.

Out of all the small villains in existence you just had to steal the body of a dragon abuser. You just had to get in the body of Venion Stan.

Venion out of all people. Even Neo Tolz or Adin or Duke Fredo would’ve been better picks.

But no, the gods of this world just had to put you in the body of an atrocious villain that has no use.

Never mind running away in the countryside while enjoying all the inheritance, there’s no way that black dragon is going to leave you alone.

…And for sure the black dragon is already 3 years old, there’s no saving you now. Anger and despair are already planted in that poor baby’s heart.

Everything moved too quickly to your liking. One moment you were in the carriage, then next Neo was greeting you. After you blinked you’re already in the black dragon’s cell.

‘Can I survive a year before Cale comes here to get the dragon?’

The black dragon can’t use mana, let alone dragon fear. But his vicious gaze full of animosity is already enough to make you feel guilt and fear.

He looked so pitiful. The cell might be spacious, but a cage will still be a cage. He was just there, in the middle of the cell. Chained and unable to fight back.

The buffet in the middle doesn’t help the queasiness you feel in your stomach.

“Do-”

‘Don’t bother with it, I won't be visiting the dragon further.’

The words you want to say are stuck in your throat. Some unknown force is stopping you from uttering them out.

You figured it was so that things would still go according to the plot.

‘I know I wasn’t the greatest in my previous life, but was I so bad that I must experience this?’

Tap Tap Tap

Heels of your shoes tapped against the ground as you walked towards the table. You tried to stop your body, but it was useless. No matter how hard you try to stop yourself you just keep moving.

“Start.”

Your voice- no Venion’s voice said and the torturer started whipping the dragon.

Gulp

There’s a bile in your throat threatening to show itself. However, you swallowed it. The scene may look horrendous, but you didn’t look away. You didn’t stop eating the feast in front of you. You didn’t stop laughing at the small dragon’s demise.

More like you couldn’t.

You wanted to cry. You wanted to go back to your world and curl up in your bed. You wanted all of this to be a dream.

‘Is this the doing of the gods? If so then why must they be cruel.’

“Is there anything else you want to do young master?”

“No just go out. All of you. I will follow in a short while”

Following your order, everyone in the dungeon started heading out. After a few seconds, there was no one but you and the dragon in the room.

Bleurgh!

As soon as there was no one else in the room you vomited. Good thing there was a bathroom attached in the dungeon. The bathroom door was wide open as you puked your gut out, showing the black dragon a view of your pale face. Despite that you didn’t care, your only focus was to get rid of the horrible feeling running through your body.

It’s not as if the dragon would care about its torturer.

That night you spent the entire time in your bed tossing and turning. Too tired to sleep but too scared to face the nightmares you have to combat every time you do.

“Go find a magician or something and commission a temperature-regulating device. I want it installed at the cave before we visit the Tolz territory again.”

“As you wish your highness. However, aren’t you spending a bit too much on a mere pet?”

“You dare think I’m buying all these things for that pesky dragon? I’m buying it for my own comfort, you should be aware of how I want to be comfortable all the time.”

“It seems I made a mistake. I shall prepare everything you desire for the next time you visit the villa.”

Six months has already passed since you became Venion Stan. Adjusting wasn’t easy, especially when there are more times when you can’t control your body than when you can.

But still, you persevered.

It wasn’t like you had a choice anyway. You have already taken over this body so you have to live in it. That and there’s also the fact that you want the original plot to go smoothly.

You want the black dragon to experience justice.

So you persist. Even when the atrocities you did make you puke. Even when you want to kill yourself.

You didn’t

It wasn’t right.

You may not be the original Venion Stan, but it wouldn’t be right to take away the revenge the black dragon deserves. That was why you decided to persevere.

Persevere now and suffer at the dragon's hands later before finally dying.

That was your plan.

You didn’t care about other things anymore. Money, territory, power; none of those things mattered to you anymore. Too disgusted with yourself and everything you have been doing to even attempt to enjoy those things.

However

There’s a silver lining in all of this.

After a month of being in your new body, you have found a loophole. You found a way to combat some of the restrictions to your actions. As long as you sound selfish and villainous enough, you can get away with saying and doing most things.

Using this knowledge to your advantage, you slowly made life for the dragon easier. You bought a lot of things such as cushions, a more comfortable collar, and the temperature-regulating device you just ordered. You also used this fact to lessen your hold on both Taylor Stan and the underworld.

“Venion, I heard you withdrew the people watching over your older brother.”

You scowled at Marquis Stan’s words as if the mere mention of Taylor Stan upsets you.

“Father, what can that cripple do? He has no legs, no power, and barely has any money. Putting people to watch over someone like that will only be a waste of resources.”

Luckily, the marquis agreed with your reasoning and let the situation go while praising how smart you are.

‘Hopefully by this Taylor Stan can gather more information now that my people are now hovering over him.’

That night you managed to sleep for approximately 30 minutes. The longest sleep you’ve experienced since coming over to this world.

Bleurgh!!

It was another torture session and once again you were vomiting everything you ate that week after the session. 

While you were busy trying to not make a mess on the bathroom floor, you didn’t notice a certain young dragon observing you.

He may be three years old and he may not know much but his still smart because he's a dragon. That was why he noticed the changes in his captor that started around 8 months ago. 

The young dragon noticed the hesitation in your eyes whenever you entered the dungeon. How you were puking from self-hatred and not because of how bad the food was like you said. How your laugh is soulless, especially when he’s being tortured. 

How you stagger the slightest bit while standing up after those sessions. How your hands shook ever so slightly from guilt. How you tried to make the cell as comfortable as possible for him despite saying you were doing it for your own comfort. 

How your eyes look more lifeless each time he sees you.

The young dragon noticed all of it. He may not know what caused the change, but he knows that everything you’re doing is against your volition.

“Fuck I lost my appetite already. I’m going back to my room. Feed those scraps to that dragon.”

You ordered your servants on your way out. Walking as if your entire body wasn’t shaking ten seconds ago.

The black dragon just watches you with observant eyes. 

The “scraps” you were talking about were the feast that was barely even touched. It had always been like this for a few months now. You would barely touch your food and give it to the dragon in the guise of treating him like a dog.

For now, the young one accepts the food. He’ll figure out your intentions later.

“Lessen the guards at the dungeon. Remove all the cushions too, I’m going to change them. Do the same thing to the dragon’s collar too. While you’re at it increase the guards stationed at my quarters. Put the guards in the cave to my room.”

It’s the fated day. Time passed and now is already the day the black dragon will be rescued by Cale, Choi Han, and the cat tribe children. You already met them earlier and acted as arrogant as you could.

Hence the preparation. You need to make it look like the dragon was kept in a horrible condition. Of course, he was… but like much more worse conditions.

“Assassins have been increasing their attempts lately. If I see someone assigned to my room not doing your jobs I’m going to feed you to the sharks. Oh, and you.”

You pointed at a random servant passing by.

“Here’s some gold, buy some alcohol from the inn. Don’t tell anyone I was the one who bought it.”

“May I ask what you’re going to do with the alcohol young master?”

Everyone knows that Venion Stan deemed things not noble enough as disgusting. But you felt guilty for pushing that old man around earlier so you made an excuse.

“Depends on my mood. I’m feeling generous so if you all guard my room tonight then I’ll give you the alcohol tomorrow to drink.”

Everyone held in their shock.

“But if you don’t then I’m going to throw each bottle in your heads while drinking real wine.”

With that, you turned around to lie down on your bed.

That night was the same as every other night you spent in this world. Sleepless. However, that night you felt some weight being lifted off your shoulders as you heard the ruckus Choi Han was causing outside.

‘He should be curled up in Cale’s lap while looking at me viciously’

You stealthily peeked at Cale as you walked towards your seat. Just a moment ago he was trying to rile you up by acting obnoxious. It was hard to try and act like you were keeping your composure when you agreed with everything he said.

“What the..!” 

‘Shit did I not put enough strength into my acting?’

You barely felt your blonde hair sway as you slapped the table in supposed shock at Taylor Stan’s entrance.

‘Maybe I should’ve forced myself to eat a little bit more before coming here…’

Gritting your teeth, you ignore the black spots dancing in your vision. Today is a vital day, you can’t ruin the script by fainting because you only ate 3 spoonfuls during breakfast.

Luckily, it looks like everything is going according to the plot. Based on everyone’s reaction, you looked like an enraged noble.

Days following that event were even more chaotic. Not only was the terrorist attack in the plaza terrifying but trying to act as if you were trying to hold on to your position when you just wanted to give it to Taylor was even tougher.

As usual, you persevered.

Comforted yourself at the thought that in a few months, you can embrace death’s sweet presence.

“Do I look different without the blood?”

You felt scared and relieved at the sight of the black dragon that now goes by Raon Miru.

Scared because even though you have resigned yourself to your fate, and felt like you deserve it even, you still feel fear for what’s about to come.

Relief because he looks healthy. Chubby even. You were glad that he was living a good life after he got away from you.

Disregarding your feelings, you let the poisonous fog into your body. Resigning yourself to the four days of hell waiting.

Ugh…

Your body feels sluggish when you wake up.

“What the… It hasn’t even begun yet why does that bastard’s eyes already look dead?”

“That’s what I was telling you human! That punk's eyes tell a different story from his actions.”

Soft. Whatever you were lying down on felt soft. It wasn’t like what you’ve read in the novel where Venion was lying down on the hard ground. The magic collar was also soft. It felt similar to the one you bought for Raon a year ago. 

You would know because you made sure to pick the softest one yourself.

“His eyes look more dead than when I last saw him at that cave.”

Eyes? Were they talking about yours?

You didn’t know. You didn’t care.

You just want everything to end.

Gasp!

Someone gasped, you think it was one of the kittens.

“T-tears! Why is he crying? I only put paralysis in poison earlier.”

Crying? You were crying?

You sit up. It was hard because of the chains tying your arms but you still did it.

As you look down on your lap, tears are indeed flowing.

‘Why am I crying? Wasn’t I waiting for this day?’

Everything was already planned in your head. You get tortured then you will go crazy. Then you will kill yourself and make everyone believe you did it because you’re crazy.

So why are you crying now?

Why are you in tears as if you don’t deserve what’s happening to you?

Why do you weep as though you haven’t committed several crimes this past year?

How dare you do so.

How dare you act so pitifully when the child you tortured is right in front of you?

Shameless. Till the end, you’re so shameless.

Click! 

Thunk!

Beacrox unlocked the magic collar. As he did you saw it falling on the ground.

“Ah, so there really was fur inside…”

Your voice sounded soulless. It sounded so dead that even you were shocked at how you sounded.

But it also felt cathartic.

After two years of trying to act lively. Two years of acting as if you were fighting for something.

You can finally let out your real emotions.

Two years. It took more than two years for you to be granted that privilege. 

“Speak. I heard you bought the same thing for Raon.”

“You really named him Raon…”

Beacrox grabbed your collar. He looked furious. If you remember things correctly, he just heard about the dragon’s story a while ago so you understand his feelings.

“He told you to answer. Why did you buy something like that after 3 years?”

“I was getting tired of looking at the hard metal… There was nothing in that cave but stone and metal…”

Your tears are still flowing. It looks like they were crying a whole year’s worth. 

Despite that, you were not shaking, nor were your eyes looked sad.

Contrarily, you looked like those creepy dolls with soulless eyes that cried in horror films.

That low-key scared everyone in the room.

“Before, when I was three, I saw you shaking every time you came to the cave. Why was that?”

What’s happening? Why is there a sudden interrogation? You signed up for torture not for a cross-examination.

Still, you answered the dragon.

“I can’t tell.”

“Is it related to how you can’t seem to say what you want at times?”

Just how much did that kid notice in the few times you visited him?

“Yes. When are you going to get started? I need to meet with my hyung after this…”

Meet him and then die.

So please hurry up already.

“Hey punk, you sound like you already know what’s going to happen.”

“It’s obvious. This place looks exactly like that damn cave.”

You were getting tired of talking.

Actually, you were tired. Period.

“But it doesn’t look like how I left the cave when you rescued him.”

“Yes, because that wasn’t how the cave I lived in looked like. It looked like this.”

And the “this” Raon was talking about felt more homey. There were soft lights and a bunch of pillows and cushions. There were even some stuffed toys and blankets.

Was this how you decorated Raon’s cave?

You can’t remember.

Not that you care.

“Can we get started already please?”

“I thought you were a sadist, not a masochist.”

Something snapped inside you at that moment. You didn’t know why it was Choi Han’s comment that riled you up. Maybe it wasn’t the comment but the waiting that set you off.

“Just do it already! Are you dumb?! This fucking plot will not move unless you fucking torture me!”

In that moment you felt a searing pain in your chest.

“Argh!”

Blood flowed out from your mouth.

‘So that’s what happens when I try to push the restrictions.’

Coughing out blood when you’re body was already weak from not eating and sleeping enough was bound to cause you to faint.

And faint you did.

“Young master Cale said you were unconscious for 4 days. The doctor told me you were both malnourished and fatigued. One of your servants confessed that it’s an achievement if you eat 4 spoonfuls every meal. The young master also mentioned how it seems like you were forced to do everything you’ve done… Just what is happening? Hmm? Tell this hyung of yours.”

“Hyung…”

In the end, you didn’t get tortured…

“What’s going to happen now? What’s going to happen to me?”

You diverged from the fate carved out for Venion Stan.

That made you scared.

The restriction placed upon you to prevent you from straying from the plot scared you.

“Everything will be okay. But you need to tell me what’s going on.”

Taylor Stan hugged you, and you felt disgusted with yourself that you dare find warmth and comfort in that hug. Disgusted that you dared cry in front of him when you tried to kill him in the past.

But you couldn’t help it.

You couldn’t help that your hyung was soft and caring even though he was stern and strict. 

“I’m scared hyung. I’m a horrible person.”

As you speak you notice Cale in the corner of the room. He was trying to go out to give you two some privacy.

“Please stay.”

‘You deserve to hear the truth too.’

Cale stopped moving at your words. 

At that moment you decided to spill everything. Venion Stan’s role was already done. Even if it wasn’t, you already strayed from the path written for him. So you’re pulling all stops now.

“I’m a horrible person that did horrid crimes. I know that, I did them with my own hands after all. But I didn’t want to do them.”

You felt that stinging pain slowly coming back.

“There are times when I can’t control the things I say or do. No matter how hard I try my body won’t listen to me.”

The taste of blood in your mouth is back. You tried to act as calm as possible and nonchalantly spit it out in a napkin as if you were just wiping your mouth.

“I think it’s the god’s doing. It’s fated that I must be a bad guy for everything in the future to work out.”

You wiped your mouth again.

“I couldn’t resist it. But I found a loophole.”

Wipe

“If I make it look like what I was doing is villainous then my movements will not be restricted as much.”

“So when you removed the people watching over my residence..?”

You nodded while wiping your mouth once again.

However, this time Taylor snatched the napkin out of your hands.

“You’re bleeding..!”

“Ah…”

You were wiping so much blood that it already seeped out. Causing for Taylor and Cale to see the blood.

“I should’ve used a darker colour…”

“Stop talking. I’ve already heard everything I need to know.”

“I have nothing else to say to you anyway.”

The two men started walking out of the door when you called out to someone.

“Young master Cale, can you please stay? I must tell you something.”

The marquis and the young master exchanged a glance before one of them left the room.

“What is it?”

At Taylor’s exit, Raon undid his invisibility.

“It’s not fate.”

Cale and Raon looked at you as if you’d lost your head. Honestly, you wish you did. Being beheaded right now is better than living with these horrible feelings.

“It’s plot. You should know what I’m talking about.”

Luckily, Marquiss Stan left the napkin so you could wipe your mouth again.

“I think the universe, not the gods, made a mistake with me. But despite their mistake, they are insistent on going with the plot laid out.”

You discarded the napkin. It’s already drenched with too much of your blood that it can’t be used anymore.

“But don’t worry. This plot is very beneficial to you. You just have to follow whatever you think is right. You can disregard whatever anyone says. Even if that anyone is a god.”

‘Unlike me’

Cale handed you a handkerchief and you wiped your mouth with it.

“Lastly, I’m sorry Raon Miru-nim. My only choice was to either keep torturing you or throw you out. I couldn’t throw you out, because if I did then you wouldn’t meet the young master.”

“It’s okay… I am great and mighty so I figured out long ago that you were being forced.”

“Thank you.”

With that the dragon became invisible again and the two head out of the room.

Cleanup was easy. Of course, it was. Everything was already planned out beforehand.

The previous marquis was arrested and his people were successfully rooted out. You got sentenced to house arrest.

Meaning, you got a slap on the wrist.

It confused you. Why did you get such a light sentence when you did so many horrible things? It didn’t even feel like house arrest because your hyung always kept you by his side and personally took care of you.

“How about you? How are you and your brother doing?”

You heard Cale speaking on the other side of the communication device. But you just kept your head low and stared at your palms, unmoving.

“That…”

Marquis Stan hesitated.

“His been listless since that day. I checked with an expert and they said his in a catatonic state.”

You blur out the rest of their conversation. It wasn’t like there was a need to listen anyway. There’s nothing for you to do now. Your role is done but you can’t die.

You're tired.

So so fucking tired.

Tired of waking up. Tired of moving. Tired of thinking. Tired of breathing.

Tired of living.

So you opted to not move. Tune out the world around you. Maybe if you’re lucky they’ll leave you to rot in that lavish room of yours.

“Your eyes look more lively today. Do you have enough energy to speak?”

You blinked once. Then twice. You don’t know how many days have passed already. All of them look like a giant blur in your mind.

For the first time in a while, you moved your body to look at your surroundings.

As you take in your surroundings you notice that there’s a storm outside. That and Taylor Stan seem to have put you in the wheelchair he used to use.

“Taylor Stan…”

“Call me hyung.”

Did you deserve to? Well, it doesn’t matter since he ordered you to.

“Hyung”

“Yes, my dongsaeng?”

“Why won’t you kill me?”

The wheelchair stopped in its tracks. It was because the one pushing it stopped walking.

“Why would I kill you?”

“Why would you not kill me?”

You had no way of knowing just how scared Taylor was at this moment. Your voice sounded so soulless. As if you were asking about the weather and not about your death. He was already scared that one day he would just wake up to find you dead. Your questions and your way of asking them are not helping his fear.

“I told you, I wouldn’t kill my family.”

“Ah…”

Silence lingered as the two of you went to your room. Inside, the first thing you noticed was the door on the wall.

“That’s a connecting door. It’s connected to my room.”

“Very fitting for a criminal like me that needs to be monitored at all times.”

“That’s not…”

Taylor Stan chose to sigh instead of answering. After he did, he called the servants to help you with your nighttime routine.

“You all can go now, I’ll take it from here.”

Servants filed out of your room as your brother took the brush from a servant's hand.

“You know that this is useless right?”

“Why is that?”

Taylor continued brushing your blonde hair that now reaches past your shoulders.

“It’s not like I’ll sleep. There’s never a night where I slept for more than 30 minutes. I think.”

“Maybe if I stay by your side you’ll sleep better.”

You didn’t respond. You just watched in the mirror how your hyung gently brushed your hair. At some point, you pulled your legs up to your chest and started hugging them.

Taylor Stan didn’t seem to mind your movements. In fact, he seems to encourage them.

“Let’s eat dinner now. Do you want to walk?”

“No.”

The mere thought of moving more than you already did makes you feel nauseated.

Your hyung nodded and started pushing the wheelchair again. As he did the sight of the food prepared on your table caught your eyes. It wasn’t a feast like how you were served in the past.

Instead, there were just two simple identical meals on the table.

It reminded you of how you used to eat your meals back on earth.

“You’re eating too?”

“I haven’t eaten yet. I figure we can eat together since Cage is not here.”

She must be in the super rock’s villa or something.

Eat together was what you did. Well, more like Taylor ate while you take a few bites and play with your food.

“Do you not want to eat anymore?”

“No.”

“It’s fine, just leave it there. You already ate thrice more than you usually would. It’s okay to take it slow.”

That’s true. You ate 10 spoonfuls today when you would usually just take a bite or two. Three at most.

Maybe a gentle company and a simple meal did the trick. But you aren’t sure.

After the meal, you brushed your teeth before lying down on the bed. Taylor was sitting on a couch beside your bed as promised.

That night, for the first time since you arrived in this world, you managed to sleep almost the whole night.

[v1nsmoke]

𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐕𝐀 // 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐘 𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

oneshot - sonny corleone (the godfather) x reader

tw: a creep guy :(

summary: at your best friend's wedding, somebody helps you out - that somebody might have a thing for you, too

fandom: the godfather

a/n: mention of elvis presley, so uh… the timeline doesn’t match well, but i hope yall dont mind  <3

tags: -

wc: 2.4k

Connie Corleone’s been one of your close friends for a while now. And we’re talking about a really long while here. At this point you were close to being considered her family. This brought other events, and most importantly other people in your path. You were very familiar with her family members, she considered you a sister since she didn’t have one. Brothers, on the other hand…

She had a whole bunch of brothers, at first you were even surprised by it, but with time, you managed to successfully bond with them. There was Tom, the adopted one, and Fredo, the one that everybody thought was adopted but actually wasn’t. Then there was Sonny, who didn’t even try to conceal his attraction towards you, and last, there was Michael, the youngest.

Over the years, you all grew close, but undeniably, Sonny was your favorite out of them all. 

The day of Connie’s wedding had finally arrived. Of course, you were among the many guests. Out of them all, you barely knew anyone, or more like anybody. An unfamiliar face appears next to you. It was an about five and half feet tall, round man. 

“I’m so glad you’re here,” He greeted you. To be fair, you had no intention of talking to him.

The man takes quick steps as he gets closer to you. His eyes slightly narrowed at the sight of you. 

“Hey,” you softly smile. No words beyond that. “It’s nice seeing you here. That’s your uniform on you?” You ask, your pointing finger motioning at his clothing. 

“You’ve got quite an eye,” he sighs with a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“I always did have an eye for nice things.”

“Undoubtedly. Where’d you find yours?”

It wasn’t that he hated it. No, quite the opposite. He liked it. He liked it because it was on you, and it fit.

“A thrift store,” you replied. “Dress to impress, they say.”

“Who’re you trying to impress, sweetheart?” 

Not you, that’s for sure, you thought.

“It hugs you perfectly, too tight, innit?” He grins. Yeah, no way you wanted to talk to him.

“It’s fine. Now, I reckon that other people are waiting for your company, so I’ll leave you to it,” you smile awkwardly at him, trying to brush him off.

“No, I’d rather spend my time with you,” he chuckles, grasping your wrist as you try to scurry away from him.

You shoot an anxious glare at the man, who refuses to let you go, even after you attempt to draw your hand out. 

“Let me go. Now,” you demand, your soft attitude now gone. 

“Don’t give me that attitude. I’m just trying to look out for you. That dress, it doesn’t seem too comfortable.”

“It is. So leave me alone. This is just harassment.”

The man rolled his eyes, scoffing slightly as his grip on you got a bit tighter.

“Seriously? I’m the one harassing you? That dress on you, to me, feels like pure harassment.”

“Don’t get cocky there, old man, I reckon you should fuck off now, before I shout it out that you’re harassing me.”

The man grabbed your waist, and now his face was mere inches from yours, his dark eyes bored into yours as he glared into yours.

“Harassing you? No sweetheart. Trying to keep those damn pests off of you? Yes.”

“You’re the pest that should be kept off of me!”

He huffed, his grip tightening, almost as if he was holding you captive.

“You better keep that smartmouth attitude of yours to yourself,” he whispered, leaning closer to your ear.

“Let me go you creep,” you grunt, trying your best to twist out your arm from his grip.

“For the love of God, will you stop? I’m just protecting you.”

“This isn’t protecting! You’re here preaching about other men looking at me, but what you’re doing is much, much worse!”

His eyebrow twitched at the name calling. He looked around to see if anyone was paying attention before looking back at you.

“Keep. Your. Voice. Down,” he huffed out through gritted teeth.

At this point his fingers were so clenched around your wrist, leaving imprints on your skin.

“What now? Scared that somebody will notice this? I hope someone does, and they get you off of me.”

“Keep your mouth shut, or see what happens.”

Enough bullshit. You bit his arm, your teeth digging deep into his skin. Why wouldn’t you? It was fucking deserved, from the start. 

He hisses in agony, releasing his grasp as he pulls his arm back. With his other hand’s palm, he runs his fingers over the tiny, fresh marks on his skin. His skin became paler in those spots. 

Without a word, you run off, making your way through the crowd of people.

You didn’t care where you were even going, as long as it was far away from that unknown man. Everyone here was unknown to you, not just that man. The only familiar face around the crowd was Sonny, stalking over to you. You could only hope that he didn’t want to talk to you at that moment. What would you even say? Was the previous event visible on you?

Sonny was making rounds, checking on the guests. That was, until he spotted you. Even from that distance, he could see that you were distressed. With quick steps, he pushed himself through the mass of guests gathered around in the garden.

“You okay?” He speaks in a soft tone, a concerned look on his face. “You look like you’ve been crying.”

“Oh, I haven’t been, I’m just on the verge of doing so,” you flash him a weak smile, trying to play it off. This was your best friend’s wedding, for God’s sake. “How you doin’?”

Sonny raised an eyebrow. He clearly didn’t believe you.

“Uh huh. Sure you haven’t. I’m doing fine. I’m not the one that looks like I’m gonna cry any second now,” he teased.

Of course, this moment couldn’t last an eternity. Make a guess who appeared behind you. I dare you.

“There you are,” the same man from before hisses through his teeth, almost getting a hold of your wrist again, but this time, you know better, and manage to pull your hand away just in time.

Sonny’s always been quick to react. Before the man can reach for you again, he steps in between the two of you. 

“Now what’s with you?” He demands, looking the man straight in the eye. One of his hands was protectively covering you behind him.

“That bitch bit me!” The man roars. 

Sonny looks over his shoulder, his brows knitted together, watching in anticipation, waiting for confirmation. There’s no way you would-

“I did. And it was well fucking deserved!” You lean forward lightly, almost unnoticeably, your finger pointing at the man. “He was harassing me!”

Confused, Sonny turns his head back at the man. 

“He did?” He asked, the question aimed at you.

“You think I would bite some man for no reason?”

That was all it took for Sonny. He clenched his fist, and with a swift movement, he flung his arm towards the man, landing a punch straight into his face. The man staggered back some steps, even bumping into a random guest.

“Who the hell do you think you are?!” Sonny snarls at him viciously.

Not wanting the situation to escalate even further, you grab his arm, getting his attention. This was Connie’s wedding, no need to ruin it for her with this. 

“Hey, enough. It’s nice of you, but I don’t think this is the time for this.”

He pants, looking into your eyes, nodding lightly as you speak. He, too, came to the realization that his sister’s wedding wasn’t the appropriate place and time to cause mayhem.

You found a quiet refuge under a tree, your lone self could finally be at peace. It was a big event, more people attended it than a literal Taylor Swift concert. It was loud, with many people. Overwhelming.

“Hey there,” the oh-so-familiar face trots up to you.

“Sonny, hey. I know I probably asked you this before, but how you doing?”

“Just doing rounds, making sure the guests are okay. Making sure the food is good, the whole shindig” he answered as he let out a sigh, his eyes now looking out into the party area. “I’d much rather be here, making sure you’re okay

“How heroic of you! No, really, I appreciate it. But shouldn't you check whether the food grew legs and ran off?”

Sonny chuckled at the comment, a smirk appearing on his face as he bumped his shoulder against yours.

“Very funny, smartass. But the food is well-behaved.”

“Did you train it personally?”

He snickered at that, a lighthearted chuckle escaping him.

“Nope, I just told them that I would eat them if they even think about running away.”

This time, you let out a chuckle too. Sonny’s always been kind to you.

“There’s the smile. I’m glad I’m getting laughs out of you,” he comments. “Y’know, for an introvert like yourself, you’re pretty damn good at being around rowdy people like  my family.”

“The only rowdy person in your family is you. Michael barely even speaks.”

Sonny let out a scoff, a feigned annoyance on his face.

“Hey, that is absolutely not true! Have you seen Fredo when he’s drunk?”

“No, fortunately.”

He smirked at that, rolling his eyes jokingly.

“You’re lucky then. Fredo, when he’s drunk, is the loudest and rowdiest person ever! Especially when he starts to sing…”

You couldn’t help but smile at his words.

“And you? When you’re drunk, are you louder than usual too?” You ask.

Sonny chuckled slightly at the question, a cocky smirk on his face as he sat up again and leaned over towards you.

“No, no. I’m already loud as it is, sweetheart. Me drunk? People would be going deaf if I got louder” he joked with a playful tone.

“Oh, undoubtedly.”

“Now, why’d you gotta say it in such a nonchalant way?”

“Because I can. Now, get back in there, this is your kinda thing. Enjoy it while it lasts, y’know.”

“And you’re going to be sitting here on your own?” He asks.

For a moment, you were deep in thought. Yes, because you knew almost nobody. Yes, because the Corleones were all busy doing their own thing.

“Seems like it,” you blurt out calmly, a smile on your face.

Sonny hummed in acknowledgment, his expression turning more serious as he looked you up and down.

“If any of these idiots bother you, you come get me. Understand?”

“Understood, sir. I just didn’t plan on involving you last time.”

“Sweetheart, these bastards are my family. That makes them fair game for me to hit any day. I said come get me if you need me. Don’t let my dumbass cousins ruin your night. So, you better keep that promise. I’d hate to see someone upset such a pretty face.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you reply with a gentle smile.

Sonny gave you a smile back, the cocky smirk replaced by a sincere one. He paused for a few seconds, as if contemplating something, before speaking up again.

“Actually, before I go back over there and drown myself in alcohol, I have a question for you”

“Speak your mind.”

Sonny bit his lip slightly, a rare look of uncertainty coming over his features, as he shoved his hands into his pockets. He looked at you for a few more seconds, as if debating with himself, before he spoke up again.

“Why’d you wanna sit here, all by yourself?” he asked the question softly.

“Why, I’m no good out there in the crowd all alone. You know the feeling when you’re lost in a crowd? That would be me.”

Sonny nodded in understanding, a small frown on his face. He knew you weren’t the biggest fan of big social gatherings, especially by yourself, so he could understand how lonely you felt here tonight.

“Don’t you have anyone to hang out with?”

“I wouldn’t say.”

He stayed quiet for a few seconds before he spoke up again.

“You can’t just sit out the whole night like this, all alone. C’mon, why don’t you hang out with me instead?”

“Oh, I’d scare those girls away,” You smile as you say jokingly.

“Sweetheart, even if you stay out here all night those girls will still crawl all over me. I’m just that handsome” he said, his smirk turning cocky again.

“Oh, you casanova.”

Sonny chuckled again, shaking his head at the nickname. He ran his hand through his hair, the smirk on his face never leaving as he looked over to you again.

“You know it,” he said with a playful tone, before his expression turned more serious again “but I’m bein’ serious. C’mon, sit with me instead of sitting over here all alone.”

“If it doesn’t bother you, it doesn’t bother me.”

Sonny nodded his head, a smile on his face again as he lightly bumped his shoulder against yours.

“Nah, of course it doesn’t. Better to talk to you then get hit on by some random girl all night.”

You squint your eyes, a suspicious look on your face.

“Wait…”

“Is something wrong?” Sonny raised an eyebrow at the sudden interjection, a confused look on his face as he leaned over towards you a bit.

“This isn’t the Sonny Corleone I know! There's no way, not a single way, that you would prefer talking to me than all those girls!” You chuckle. 

Sonny chuckled again, a smirk on his face as he rolled his eyes again. He shook his head slightly, clearly amused that you thought that.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever smartass. I’d rather go one night without some random chick drooling over me and actually have an intelligent conversation instead.”

“C’mon then. They’re playing Elvis,” you say quietly, almost whisper-like.

Sonny nodded his head, slowly standing up from the ground and holding his hand out to you.

“C’mon, then. Let’s go watch ‘em play some Elvis.”

© v1nsmokes 2024. Do not modify, translate or rewrite.

[maxwell-grant]

Thoughts on The Penguin trailer?

This one has a more generic mob show vibe out of the ones we've seen so far, and I'm not gonna lie a part of me is still skeptical regarding it, but the emphasis on post-flood broken Gotham besieged by a crime family fighting for the scraps of the kingdom kept me piqued, and then the words "Post-Apocalyptic Sopranos" crossed my mind in the elevator and oh Yes, Ha Ha Yes

It's one thing for a show about mob power struggles and troubled dynamics to happen in a regular society where they exert power and there are structures in place to abide to, it's another thing entirely for said mob power struggles and troubled dynamics to be happening in the wrecked ruins of a city in the process of rebuilding all of it's structures and for said mob to be simultaneously on free-fall and poised for new beginnings as the world itself is changing (if anything Tony Soprano wishes he could be living like this, with more carte blanche to cut through his stresses with a machine gun every now and then)

It's a decent shake-up on a crime show formula even on it's own, without factoring that oh yeah this is Gotham City and said destruction was caused by a nerd obsessed with riddles and all of these mobsters will have to look over their shoulders for the rest of their lives in case the freak in power armor decides to show up and suplex them into the pavement, and things are only going to get worse and weirder from here on out.

Clancy Brown once again showing up to play the Final Boss / All-Father / Divine Judge of organized villainy, we love to see it, it's what he does and he does it better than anyone. Here breathing a whole new life and power and significance into the other major throwaway Gotham gangster.

What I'm interested in regarding Sofia and the Falcones in general is that they've said several times in the past that Oz is modeled after Fredo Corleone, and this trailer goes out of it's way to paint Sofia as the Michael with direct references. For the contrast between Penguin and the actual gangsters to exist, for this to explore the divide and collapse on regular crime vs super crime that the movie kicked off, this thing needs a standard Prestige TV Crime Show protagonist to work, and that seems to be Sofia, the protagonist of a story, just not this one.

The trailer's placing a big emphasis on Oswald as a guy who's still a long way from the top, contrasting with Sofia holding what's left of the reigns of power. Sofia stares at political protestors behind windows and attends fancy dinner conversations and dwells on the scars of her past and makes threats on how she's been pushed aside too long and it's her turn now, and Oz is out there in the ruins hauling corpses and mentoring an understudy and getting into machine gun fights and doing all the grunt work himself.

She gets the dramatic close-door boss shot, and the trailer ends with her cornering Oswald and leaning in real close to tell him she was always onto him and threaten him, because again, she is entirely convinced he is just the Fredo, and that she is in her girlboss Michael Corleone era. She does that, and then it hard cuts to all the violent destructive cool shit Oz is gonna be doing instead, because she is catastrophically wrong about how this thing is gonna work.

Sequel this, Reevesverse that, Trilogy whatever, none of that is gonna cut anymore. I will no longer accept any way of referring to this that isn't The Batman Epic Crime Saga. I'd say the crimelords of Gotham are asking Oswald if he has it in him to make it epic but he's already giving his answer.

The Falcones are right, Oswald IS just a goon who'd never hack it in the old system. It's just that there isn't an old system anymore, and the future looks a lot more like him than it looks like them. She and Alberto think of themselves as troubled scarred underdogs next in line for succession poised to get what is owed to them, while Penguin opens this by walking up to the former ruler of the entire city and telling him, hey head's up, I'm calling the shots now, as he laughs and snorts and plots to burn down the empire and shank them at their weakest and machine gun battle for what he's decided is his. Even if his name wasn't in the title, it wouldn't even be up to debate who's going to win this fight.

Really what is Batman as a whole about, if not Epic Crime?

[melis-writes]

What if Victoria and Sonny were secretly together when Vito & Giuseppe arrange her marriage to Michael… Sonny has to see the love of his life married to his little brother and Victoria has to marry her lover’s brother.

But they keep up their secret relationship, their secret affair with each other. They don’t care that she’s now married to Michael or that he’s married to Sandra.

They realize that now that she’s married that Sonny can finally knock her up and have babies together.

Niccolò & Verona? Sonny’s kids.

Vincent & James? Sonny’s kids.

Luciana & Angelo? Sonny’s kids.

and all other kids are his too.

Omg the eternal Victonny plotline from start to finish. 😅😅❤ Real definition of what Michael doesn’t know can’t hurt him! 👀😩

Double Matrimony.

“My daughter is an eligible bachelorette,” you mumble, repeating your father’s words. “You have no idea how many times I’ve heard him say that last week alone.”

Sonny chuckles, giving your side a squeeze as he pulls your naked body closer to his. “Ain’t that the farthest thing from the truth? I expected it though.”

“Did you?” You pout, snuggling up to Sonny; pressing your breasts against his chest.

“I can’t blame him too much, baby,” Sonny tilts your chin up to face him, caressing the outline of your jaw. “You’re young, his only daughter and nothin’ short of perfect,” his eyes wander over your lips, “you know that? Your family wouldn’t have to look far and wide to find someone for you.”

You shrug glumly, resting your head nuzzled in Sonny’s neck. “I couldn’t care less about any of that. Father should consider you if he wasn’t so judgmental and over cautious about everything…”

Sonny purses his lips, stroking your hair with his free hand. “I can understand why a powerful man like your father wouldn’t want you to be with an enforcer. That won’t ever change the fact that you’re mine, baby.”

“I only want to be yours,” you breathe against his skin. “Nothing else matters to me right now. This is what we have… What I want.”

“You’ll never not be mine, you got that?” Sonny smirks down at you. “So what, you’ll scrawl your name on some fancy piece of paper with the word ‘marriage’ on it. You think I care about that? How’s that toilet roll supposed to know how you truly feel? You’re mine, Vic.” Sonny chuckles against your lips as you can’t help but smile back shyly. “You’re always gonna be mine, and if your father wanted you for Fredo or somethin’, trust me, I think he would have let you know by now.”

“And Sandra?” You whisper back, playing with Sonny’s cross necklace. “Your relationship with her?”

“No relationship is worth mentionin’ if the ‘woman of your life’ wants you bedding someone else for her own convenience, right? Forget her,” Sonny’s hands begin to wander up your chest, fondling your breasts. “Forget ‘em all. I already did. You got a whole lot more to worry about right now, Miss Ferrari.”

“Oh yeah?” Blushing furiously, you place your hands over top of Sonny’s, beckoning him to keep touching you all over. “Indulge me, Mr. Corleone. I think you’re teasing me.”

“I’m getting your mind off things,” Sonny gives you a wet kiss over the lips. “Because I want you to worry about how sore that pussy’s going to be once I have my way with it again…” Sonny’s free hand grasps his erect cock as he begins to position himself over top of you. “You’ve always loved that…”

“Oh God, please,” you writhe underneath Sonny, spreading your legs as wide as you can obediently. “You have no idea.”

“Signature on no paper don’t mean nothing,” Sonny grunts, spreading open your pussy with his fingers and grinning. “Not when you got my seed drippin’ out of you every day. Not when this pussy is mine…”

~

While many of the crime families in New York have more than enough eligible bachelors for you to choose from, your father knows better.

Giuseppe knows you’d like to be with someone as involved in the family business as you; no more, no less, which effectively eliminates the possibility of your father ever considering enforcers, capos, and buttonmen.

A bachelor in the middle ranks without too much attention or influence on him would be best, but you could care less for Don Tattaglia and Barzini’s sons and Giuseppe knew Bruno Tattaglia had his eyes on you for a while.

Don Ferrari also has no intention on having you enter a soulless, loveless marriage; very keen on your body language and expressions towards the bachelor’s you’ve met so far.

Simply telling your father you’re seeing Sonny is not and can never be enough to convince your father. Giuseppe would never consider the possibility of having a target willingly placed on you for marrying an enforcer—Sonny’s position or being involved directly in the family business more than you bargained for.

On the other hand, you and Sonny gave up a long time ago attempting to come up with justifications and explanations for your relationship.

You don’t feel as if it’s a “secret” per say, but that it’s shrouded in privacy and indeed better off if others didn’t know considering Sonny’s brutish reputation in the Corleone family and the fact you’re with a married man.

Avoiding danger and scandals, Sonny and you have already been committed to one another for the past two years. At the age of twenty-four now, you knew if you and Sonny had the chance and opportunity, that you two would have married long ago.

It’s still somewhat too painful for you to remember Sonny’s married and you can never take that away from him so as long as his family and yours doesn’t stand for a divorce over an adulterous relationship, but you’re easily able to forget it all when you’re with Sonny.

You know Don Corleone’s only eligible bachelor is Fredo Corleone, and your father also knows Fredo’s not so pleasant track record so you expect your “formal” meeting with the Corleone’s next week to go smoothly with a solid “no”.

What you expect, however, is seldom what you receive.

Thinking a polite “no” to marrying Fredo would suffice never even leads up to happen, as your father ignores Fredo’s presence in Don Vito Corleone’s office entirely.

While it’s your first time inside the Corleone estate and none are aware you personally know Sonny, formal introductions are made and go around the room as you pretend that the man standing across from you and leaning against the wall is just the enforcer of the Corleone family, and not the love of your life.

“My eldest son, Santino,” Vito gestures to Sonny who gives you a polite smile.

You blush furiously, nodding back at him and attempting to appear remotely confused and unfamiliar with Sonny.

“Your eldest?” A smile grows over your father’s lips, momentarily sparking some sort of hope in you. “Is he to succeed you, then?”

“He is,” Vito nods, which only brings a crashing wave of disappointment in your heart.

You can see the interest that lit up in your father’s eyes fade away just as quickly. You knew as much through Sonny, but this raises the question of extreme danger for a Don to be, and something your father doesn’t want for you.

Vito’s eyes meet with Giuseppe’s as he nods; he too is aware of what your father wants for you, and would never mention Fredo out of embarrassment and good faith.

“My youngest son Michael is an eligible bachelor,” Vito speaks up, gesturing to Michael who otherwise sits rather quietly and out of attention near Vito’s desk.

Blinking, you catch Michael’s eye as both of you look upon each other with moderate curiosity. It’s then that you miss the expression on Sonny’s face entirely; his world coming down at the possibility of you marrying Michael.

“He’s twenty-nine and just returned back from Sicily,” Vito continues and sees no objection from Michael in any way.

Your attraction to Michael spikes up then and there but it’s nothing compared to everything you have and feel for Sonny. No, it could never come close or harbor such passionate romance; you already know this from first glance at Michael.

Sonny bites down on his lip, staring deadpan at the floor as he overhears Vito and Giuseppe agreeing and pairing you with his youngest brother; Sonny was never even an option despite being the only man in the room that can ever make you happy and you can’t even say no.

“It’s settled then,” you hear your father say as your heart thunders in your chest and your cheeks flush scarlet with blush. “If the two can come to an agreement, they can marry.”

“Our two families will come together as one,” Vito agrees, “Michael, do you object?”

“No,” Michael replies plainly.

Sonny shifts his weight, beginning to grow uneasy and irritated, but holds himself together well as he continues to listen.

“And you, sweetheart?” Your father asks, “will you enter a courtship with Michael?”

“I will,” you answer, feeling your stomach knot up in anxiety; never have you answered with such defiance in your heart.

Feeling his heart break in his chest, Sonny’s eyes are full of venom watching his baby brother kiss your hand and attempt to charm with what Sonny calls half-assed small talk.

There isn’t a chance in hell Sonny will stick around to see the engagement ceremony or hear Michael woo you with sweet nothings and lavish gifts; there’s a silver lining to this that you both believe in now.

Neither of you care for the relationships you’re in. They’re a mask to society to show you’re married and a part of a family, but they’re meaningless and they’re nothing to both you and Sonny.

Your engagement to Michael let alone your marriage in the next three weeks won’t stand in the way of anything you and Sonny have.

“I’m going to be with you forever,” you whispered in his ear, feeling tears stream down your cheeks. “I don’t…. I don’t have your ring or your name on my wedding certificate, but you’re my husband. You are.”

“And you’re my bride,” Sonny squeezed both of your hands, looking you in the eye. “Nothing changes. Nothing.”

In truth, it was easier on you afterwards. Sonny already had to live a double life to be with you but luckily, Sandra’s barely involved in her own marriage these days.

You play the role of the Corleone housewife well, but you’re neither clingy, excitable or hopelessly affectionate with Michael who could care less about noticing if there’s a lack of passion in your marriage with him due to his increasing involvement with the family business eating up most of his time.

What you and Sonny have come to realize is that neither of you need to be careful or use protection anymore. Having twice as much more sex whenever possible as compared to once a week with Michael, only you and Sonny know the truth.

You already could sense you were pregnant a week before you and Michael had sex for the first time. The twins you carried inside of you—boy and a girl whom you both named Niccolo and Verona weren’t Michaels. Sonny had fathered those twins.

Because Michael noticed nothing off about the timing of your pregnancy nor was there any suspicion at all whatsoever about if you and Sonny were “close” by any regard, he was permanently clueless and indifferent.

Even when you had your third child and second son, Vincent, you knew it was Sonny’s. By 1960, you had already give birth to six of Sonny’s children and none of Michael’s.

Your family and the Corleone’s gleefully compared how he babies looked strongly from the Corleone side of the family with a good mix of everyone but when you and Sonny looked at your children, you saw each other’s facial features as clear as day.

“He’s clueless, so let him be clueless,” Sonny grasps his hand over your ass, giving it a firm squeeze. “Wouldn’t want the baby brother to know how many times I knocked up his so called wife, huh?”

“Never,” you let out a breathy moan back, wrapping your arms around Sonny’s shoulders. “I don’t care either. Those are our babies. Those are…” Confidence wanes from your throat as your voice trails off. “I…”

“No, no, no,” Sonny shakes his head, “look at me, baby. Look at me.”

“Sonny, they’ll grow up and—” your throat tightens from emotion, “and if they look like you—or, o-or we have to tell them the truth eventually. They need to you you’re their father and—”

“And they will,” Sonny reaffirms, looking you in the eye. “I promise you.”

“How?” You croak back, tears spilling from your eyes. “How would we even do that?”

“I’m not planning on keeping you here with Michael forever,” Sonny lowers his tone of voice. “You just have to trust me, darling. I’ll fix all of this. I will. We will be a family together someday. I promise.”

[lappel-du-vide83]

Trash of the count's family has been living rent free in my head for the past month so here have me LOSING MY MIND OVER HIM <3

Warning this is quite long and has swears and only starts at around chapter 300

See if you can guess what was happening ;)

Tcf rants

Chap 355 ERUHABEN PROTECTING CALE AND RAON I AM FOAMING AT THE MOUTH

352 why do I have no money? JSOWPWHEJEN PEPEFUCK YOUFUCKYOUFYUCKYOUm

And omg eruhaben picked him up LIKE A WET CAT WJWIOWQP

Like some point of record introduction is where the video call unbutton happens way before 350 why did I have to find calberu so late

OMG krs life is so sad " you were meant to die" 394

424 He and I are happy as well gahhhhhh cale crying stop QnQ

When you try to pay attention to the villains monologue but the voices in your head won't shut up 446

464  piggyback super funny bro gets carried like a haystack

485 self doubt is a bitch

BUT CALE RESOLVES IT THE VERY NEXT CHAPTER OMFG THAT WAS SO UGHHHHH <33333

THE BAIT IN THE NEXT CHAPTER AHHHH THERE'S NO SERVICE HERE

BRO that one chapter pls just LET HIM Cook

OMG "Please. Hyung-nim. I trust my smart hyung-nim.’

What in the goofy fuck is this arc (naru von ellejan)

543 was kinda cute dkwhy

582 The FEELS OMG LSH AND CALE HUG WJSIWPWPQLLQ

595 cale? Sparring? Training his physical body?? Impossible

601 BDAY CHAPTER YAYAAYy ALSO CALE HON NO STOP HURTING

602 ."God. You must have seen me die today." Holy fucking shit my dudes

"Cale had started at some point to caress Alberu’s mane whenever he had the time." kuxiydsljxkysiysitzjgzkyxou pls and thank you

Ws needs to STOP

605 ‘Even though he tells us to live, why?! Why?! Why does he push himself overboard each and every time?!’ WHY IS HE SO TRAGIC also choi han almost screaming cale instead of roksoo

"Choi Jung Soo looked as if he was about to cry as he responded to the weak voice." ubc am shakibg

Taerang is so funny omg

609 RAON IS JUST LIKE HIS DAD

612 ALBERU GOT A GUN

Let me see what you have

A gun

NO

613 "brightly as young Cale used to smile." awwwww

622 HIM SMILING BRIGHTLY OMGOMGOMG

623 "The Henituse household’s number one priority during that battle was-

‘To make sure that Cale survives.’" :OOOOOOOOO

The misunderstandings lmfaooo

626 ON AND HONG PART OF THE MOLAN HOUSEHOLD

LMFAO FREDO CALLING CALE SON AND THEN BASEN LILY AND VIOLAN LOSING IT

628 did not know duke deruth was chill like that

Poor guy cale bruh new member to caleism

644 Excuse me noble sacrifice???? Bitch you better not

646 INSTANTTTT

HE BETTER BE FINE "called the beginning and the end of everything." ISTG CALE IF YOU DIE

"Raon swore in the exact same manner as Cale before heading toward the terrace." RAON IS SO CUTE

652 RECONNECTION???? YOOOOO

655 THEY MEET AAGIN

656 STOP THIS HURTS ME BUT OMG OG CALE NOW KRS IS SO SJWOPWW

OMG why are they so wholesome to each other???

His mom bro omfg I am tearing

669 damn he's cold. But ig it's war bruh you gotta cold through the mess

670 just stab yourself they said. It'll be easy they said. BRO WHAKANDA REQUIREMENT IS THAT

671 AHH ANCIENT POWERS CALLING CALE " our kid"

The absolute disregard “Man, you talk to me so disrespectfully.”

680 THAT IS INSANE NO FUCKING WAY BRO

681 BRO DID HE JUST BITCHSLAP WS HE IS SO COOL THAT WAS EPIC

684 'cales in danger'? YOU FOOLS HE IS THE DANGER

And alberu spinning the gun??? How did he get so cool with it

685 MF JUST SOLOED THE WS THROUGH SHEER BLUFF HE IS SO OP

686 THIS PLACE ABOUTA BLOWW

687?? '“I finally think that my life is a bit precious.” CALE NO

He had an extremely useful worker BAHAHAHA

689 rasheel is so real

683 UPGRDAES PEOPLE UPGRADES

694 ALBERU IS TRULY A SIBLING OF CALE

697 HE DOESN'T EVEN REALISE HOW HYPOCRITICAL HE IS

BRO got a taste of his own medicine sit yo ass down and rest mf

699 OMGOMGOMGOMG

700 wait stop this is kinda sad

702 cale in his insane era

703 yo what is happening

705 foolishly thought there'll be angst but look at that potential

Alberu the og glib tongue

715 the sealed god better fucking stop before I beat yo ass

717 that gave me chills for some reason

720 shit not even cale is safe from the abusive childhood tragedy

BRO imma beat the ws up his stupid curse affecting krs

Also the plot thickens

723 clopeh is crazy in the best way

736 this entire arc bro cale is causing so much chaos

WTF why is krs life so sad bro

737 THE PLOT THICKENS

I love this arc wait they're supporting each other so much its so adorable

740 MF CLOPEH IS SPEEDRUNNING THIS THING LET'S GOOO

752 HE HIT HIM WITH A ROCK STOP

756 WHAT IS GOING ON????

759 AND HE STABS THIS MADLAD

760 CALE IS GONNA LIVE LOONG

And omg reactions!!

766 CALE FINALLY GETS IT

Karma bro

Sidestory 2-1 OG CALE FULL OF CLASS????

2-2 istg ogcale and krs ARE THE EXACT SAME PEOPLE "FLIP EVERYTHING OVER"????

2-3 HAHAHA I GONNA QUIT BEING THE MOST USED THREAT IS HILARIOUS

2.3 raon: can I be nice

Cale : no

WHY he so ruthless

BRO I just realised that this man has not sat down wtf he just finished fighting the sealed god let him REST

2. 4 "No matter what happened, the Crown Prince’s biggest ally was the Duke’s House of Henituse which had his sworn brother and his sword art instructor." GUYS

Ahh he was so sweet to the kid

2. 5 LET'S GOO MEET UP

2.14 wow that's insanely convenient that you need exactly 3 more assistants

2. 15 LET'S GOO MARY

RAON MADE HENI FROM HENITUSE STFU

2. 23 Mary tryna copy cale and alberu is so cute

2.23 WHY IS HE HURT????

2. 40 "The rejuvenated ancient Dragon smiled a lot more these days." AWWW GOLDIE GRAMPS

Also omfg cale stronk

2.41 so wait fire of destruction did become a god? How else does he know about super rock

2.49 AHAHAHA CHOI HAN GETTING CALE THE FUCKING PILLAR

2.55 damn our cale is strong

2.58 cale proving that once again, he is the scammer

2.59 nah bro this shit too goofy they're just waiting for him to faint

2.64 can we appreciate how fast choi han and sui khan protected cale like omg

2.65 GoD is so real bro is funny af

2.68 caleism ftw

2.70 LMFAO what does alberu want??

2.71 "I’ll give you the title of Minister of Finance. Will you do it?”" BRO IS ON HIS LAST STARW

2.72 BRO THE DYNAMIC HERE IS MWUAH AND EXCUSE ME?? ALBERU IS STILL HURT?? I WILL FIGHT SOMEONE

ALSO CALE NOT RESTING AND IMMEDIATELY GETTING AN INVITE IS RIDICULOUS

2.76 cale is too nice omg

2.79" H, human! I figured it out now! Clopeh has gone so crazy that he’s gone full circle and looks calm!" I FUCKING LOVE CLOPEH THIS CRAZY BASTARD

The foreshadowing here is nuts my dude

2.81 HELP ALBERU

ALSO THE FORESHADOWING IF HE GETS HURT ISTG

ALSO WHY IS ONLY MY MAN SEALED??

2.85 GAE-IL LMAFAOOOO

2.93 TOONKA REALLY WAS ABOUT TO THROW A CHAIR

2.96" up.? Who is above me" OMFG HELL YEAH

2.101 aww choi han and raon supporting him

2.104 AT THIS RATE HE WILL FAINT STOP IT

2.106 LMFAO THE CHOIS ARE SO AWKWARD

2.107 Jakqpqpq Ron using sneak attack to make cale rest

2.110 lmfao choi han is the best at knocking people unconscious

2.113  cale is coughing too much blood bro I know it doesn't hurt but godamn

2.116 I love dominating aura so much

2.119 I DIDNT KNOW I NEEDED CHOI HAN AND BEACROX SO MUCH

2.120 omg toonka found his bff

Tbc

In conclusion I love this story and everyone in it pls and thank you

[twinchester27]

Chapter 11 - A Debt Repaid

-

Saphie awoke to the dull throb of her headache and the searing clarity that came with sobriety. The events of the previous night crashed over her like a tide, leaving her cheeks burning with shame as she curled tighter beneath the heavy quilt. She had dared to challenge Michael Corleone. Taunted him, pushed him, practically begged him to show her just how far he would go to assert control.

Her wrist still tingled where his fingers had gripped her. Not bruised, not hurt—no, he’d been careful not to cross that line—but firm enough to leave an imprint in her mind. An imprint she couldn’t shake. It wasn’t just the way he’d cornered her, his voice a low, dangerous growl that sent a thrill of fear and something else—something infuriatingly *electric*—through her. It was the way she had responded. The way her body had betrayed her, her heart racing for all the wrong reasons.

She groaned, pressing her palms to her flushed face. “Stupid,” she muttered to herself, the word muffled by the quilt. She was lucky he hadn’t done worse. Men like Michael weren’t the kind you provoked without consequence, and now she was trapped in this silent aftermath, waiting for him to exact whatever punishment he thought appropriate. *Fuck. Maybe I can just skip breakfast this morning.* She flipped back over, sighing.

When the knock came on her door, she froze, her pulse quickening. Without waiting for a response, the door opened, and a man she didn’t recognize stepped inside.

“Good Morning Miss Russo, Don Corleone says you’re to come to breakfast,” he said, his tone curt.

*Russo, huh I shouldn’t really be surprised they know my last name.* The formality still made her shudder, but not as much as the thought of breakfast. Not today.

She followed the man into the hallway, her steps slow and reluctant. Another guard appeared behind her, boxing her in. *Oh, two of them now? Shit Michael really isn’t going to be forgetting this anytime soon.* She sighed. She felt like a prisoner being marched to her sentencing, and she hated every second of it.

…

When Saphie finally caught sight of the dining room, her steps felt heavy, her chest tight with anxiety. She grimaced at the thought of Fredo, Sonny, and Tom seated around the table. She just wanted to turn back and run. It wasn’t just Michael she had to face—it was *all* of them. The Corleone men. There was no use hoping Michael would skip breakfast today, she knew he wouldn’t spare her his presence after last night.

Michael was already seated at the head of the table, sipping coffee with an air of calm detachment. Fredo, Sonny, and Tom were scattered around the table, each absorbed in their own plates or cups, but the moment she entered, all eyes flicked to her. She hesitated at the doorway, feeling exposed under their collective gaze. Michael barely looked at her as he gestured to an empty chair at the far end of the table. “Sit,” he said simply, his voice cool and commanding.

She obeyed, her legs moving without her consent, and sank into the chair. The guard who had escorted her remained stationed by the door, his presence a silent reminder that she was being watched. The men resumed their conversation, but Saphie barely registered it. Her appetite was nonexistent, her mind replaying the events of the night before in an endless loop. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Michael. Every time her gaze drifted near him, her cheeks burned, and her heart raced with a confusing mixture of anger and… something else. *God he’s not even looking in my direction. Is…is this…worse?* She sat quietly, trying not to tremble.

“She doesn’t look like she slept much,” Sonny said suddenly, his sharp grin breaking through the quiet. *Don’t look up, don’t give him the satisfaction.* Fredo chuckled nervously, glancing at Michael for his reaction, but Tom shook his head, his expression calm and measured. “Leave it alone, Sonny,” he said.

“What?” Sonny said with a shrug, his tone teasing. “I’m just saying. We all heard how much she had to say last night. Figured she’d be just as lively this morning.”

Saphie cringed, *was I really that loud?* Her hands clenched in her lap, heat rising to her face. She didn’t dare look at Michael, but she felt his attention shift to her, the weight of his gaze suffocating.

“Sonny,” Michael said, his tone even but with a sharpness that made Saphie flinch. “Enough.”

Sonny held up his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. Just trying to lighten the mood.”

The conversation shifted back to general chatter, and Saphie tried to steady her breathing. She kept her gaze fixed on her untouched plate, willing herself to blend into the background.

“Eat,” Michael said suddenly, his voice cutting through the chatter like a blade.

Her head snapped up, and for a moment, her eyes locked with his. The intensity in his gaze made her throat tighten. And snippets of last night flashed back to her. “I-I’m not hungry,” she murmured, barely able to get the words out.

“You’ll eat anyway,” he replied, his tone flat. Her hand trembled as she picked up her fork, forcing herself to take a bite of the eggs. The taste was bland, but it was the sensation of being *watched* that made every bite feel heavy and awkward. Michael’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he returned to his coffee, but the knot in her stomach remained.

…

After breakfast, Saphie tried to retreat to her room, but the guards assigned to her followed closely. It was suffocating, being shadowed every second, but she kept her mouth shut, unwilling to draw Michael’s attention again. She wandered aimlessly through the house, hoping to shake off her escorts, but they stuck to her like glue. It wasn’t until she passed by the study and heard voices that her curiosity got the better of her. She slowed her steps, pretending to adjust the hem of her sweater, and listened carefully.

The door was cracked open, and she could see two of Michael’s men inside, their conversation low but urgent.

“I’m just saying, it doesn’t make sense,” one of them said. “The kid’s debt is paid. He cleared it yesterday.”

“Doesn’t matter,” the other replied, his tone clipped. “The Don gave his orders. She stays.”

Her heart stopped.

“Yeah, but why?” the first man pressed. “The brother’s done. The balance is zero. Why keep her here?”

“Because Michael wants her here,” the second man snapped. “You want to go ask him why? Be my guest.”

Saphie’s blood ran cold. She didn’t stay to hear the rest of the conversation. She turned and walked quickly back down the hallway, her heart pounding in her chest. *So Arnie’s debt was paid?* The words echoed in her mind, over and over, as she tried to process them. Arnie had cleared his balance…but she was still here, held captive, for no reason other than Michael’s own decision.

She stopped in her tracks, leaning against the wall as her knees threatened to give out. *No, surely this means I must be getting outta here soon right? He’s probably just working out the details with Michael.* She smiled, hope returning to her. But there was something else too…something strange. *A longing to…stay? A pang of regret? No.* She shook it away. She’ll be leaving here soon, she was sure of it.

[anrisimps]

Part 2

( Naru killed his uncle in an epic climactic battle after a lot of torture and ended up burning everything ahem....moving on ..)

Naru wasn't dead yet, but he felt like he would be , sooner or later. As he was lying down , in a blurry haze of pain and something he couldn't quite understand, he thought about his father once again and began thinking of what he would say to him if he died here. He didn't know how it ended up being transmitted to fredo but it did.

Fredo blinked. Where was he again? Hadn't he just been fighting the White star. He moved his eyes slightly, finding himself in an unfamiliar room. Solena gasped from where she was sitting. The Duke has finally awoken! It had been a week since he was in a coma.

"The white star…?"

"He hasn't been sighted since your fight. It is believed he sustained a lot of injuries too"

Fredo nodded, a bit absent mindedly. Naru had told him to run away but he couldn't do that. That's right. Where is his adorable son?

"Where's Naru?"

"Little young master was just beside you two days ago….I have not seen him since then. But he should be fine."

"You-"

And then a voice suddenly started talking inside his head

"Father."

Naru?!

"Father. I miss you"

"I hope you were here father"

"Naru?!!" Fredo cried.

"Your Grace? Young master is not here. Are you alright? "

"Don't be too sad father. If I'm not by your side. 

 I had hoped to be beside you when you woke up. But it looks like you would have to come to me everything hurts so much father

"I don't know when or how I came to think of you as my real father but you were the best father I ever had.

Don't be too mad either father, if I'm gone."

Fredo's breath stilled. He didn't know what was happening or how his son was suddenly talking inside his head but something felt so wrong.

"Naru, where are you? Can you hear your father? "

"Your Grace what-"

" Father, being alive is the best. I had always been told that. But being alive doesn't mean living. So you must live happily, father.

If I leave and never come back ..will you miss me father? "

Fredo's heartbeat started racing up. Something happened to his child. Someone hurt his son when he couldn't protect him. He was going to pulverize the one who dared. He ripped off the blankets and jumped out of the bed. His body however, couldn't bear the burden and he ended up falling on the floor. He had just awoken from the coma. And some of the injuries were still healing. 

"Your Grace!! Is the young master in danger?! I will leave at once to find-

"NARU! MY CHILD!" 

"Duke! Calm yourself! I will find the young master! "

"I SAID LET ME GO"

"....I hope you miss me father.  Goodbyes sure are hard aren't they, father?

Haha…"

Fredo froze. No. His son isn't going anywhere. He threw Solena off and teleported to Naru's coordinates in a flash. His already dead heart broke even further when he found him.

His son. His only son. His precious , selfless, forgiving, wonderful son. Leaning against a broken rock , with blood dripping from every crevice of his body. He was staring at the dipping sun with a peaceful look in his eyes. 

"..Naru.."

Naru's gaze shifted towards him,

"You are finally here father" 

And smiled brightly, so brightly and so happily ,as if to ingrain it in Fredo's mind till the end of time.

"I'm sorry-I'm so late. Father is sorry. Naru Naru-"

His legs gave out and he ended up falling down again on his knees and embraced Naru tightly

" Father is here now, You are safe now naru. Father missed you lots. You want to be a slacker right. You have to live a long life for that. Naru-ya are you listening? Naru naru naru-"

His voice cracked but he continued speaking nevertheless. Naru who felt his father's warm embrace, never felt any safer. He was content now. And slowly and surely ,his breathing evened out.

"Thank you for everything father "

[fangirl-imagines]

Going to the Chapel//Michael Corleone x Reader

A/N: Requested by anonymous who wanted something about Michael and the reader’s wedding day. I hope this is close to what you wanted.

Standing in front of the mirror you smoothed your hands down over the white lace of your skirt. 

In the mirror you took in your reflection. Your full white dress, your delicate veil pinned in your hair, your carefully applied makeup. You took a deep breath out through your mouth and smiled. 

You weren’t nervous though like you thought you would be today. 

Not when Michael was waiting for you. You wondered where he was in the church right now, if he was nervous? You knew that even if he was he wouldn’t be showing it. He’d probably have the same serious, calm expression as he always did when he was trying not to show his emotions. You could always see through it though. You knew your Michael better than that and the thought made you smile. 

You bet he was with his brothers right now somewhere else in the church. Probably sharing a drink that Fredo had taken it upon himself to pour to calm the nerves Michael denied having, while Sonny keeps teasing him about the wedding night. It was their job to keep Michael and you separated before the ceremony. You were so caught up in your own thoughts you didn’t notice Vito coming up behind you until he put his hands on your shoulders. You jumped in surprise but relaxed just as quickly when you saw the gentle smile on your soon to be father-in-law’s face. 

“Y/N, you look beautiful, my dear.”

You smiled at him, reaching up to cover his hands on your shoulders with yours. “Thank you, Mr. Corleone. Have you seen Michael yet?” You asked hesitantly, turning to see Vito better. 

Vito nodded, “My son is waiting for you right now. He asked me to come check on you. I believe he’s afraid you’ll change your mind.” 

You giggled, the very idea ridiculous in your mind. Perhaps Michael was more nervous than you thought. You opened your mouth to reply but were cut off by the excited squeal of your matron of honor rushing into the bridal room. Connie’s hands covered her mouth, she looked beautiful in her y/f/c dress. 

“Oh, Y/N, you look beautiful, honey! Michael is just going to die when he sees you!” She rushed forward, grabbing your hands in hers and squeezing them excitedly. 

“Well, then we best not keep him waiting.” Vito directed gently, offering up his arm to you. 

With a deep breath and a small smile you took Vito’s arm in yours and with your other hand took the bouquet of y/f/f from Connie and let them lead you towards the chapel doors. Just inside you could hear the sound of the processional starting. There was no going back now but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Connie offered you a wink as the doors opened and she began her walk down the aisle. How long were you supposed to wait before you started out again? 

Vito squeezed your hand gently before taking a step forward, leading you on his arm down the aisle. You’d dreamed as a little girl of this moment. In those dreams you had envisioned the kinds of flowers you’d have, how beautiful the church would look with the light coming in through the stained glass windows, how your mother would cry over how beautiful you looked as you walked down the aisle, but now as it was happening you couldn’t be bothered to notice any of that. 

All you could see was Michael. 

He stood at the altar between the priest and Sonny looking as handsome as the day you’d met him in his black suit with his hair slicked back carefully. His brown eyes bore into you, watching your every move as if you were the only other person in the world. Sonny clapped him on the shoulder with pride but even then Michael’s attention remained locked on you. As you reached him, he smiled at you gently, the corners of his lips curling up in one of his rare smiles, and suddenly you felt as if you could breathe again. Vito kissed you on the cheek, placing your hand in the hand of his son before returning to his seat beside Carmella. Wordlessly, Connie took your bouquet from your hands and Michael reached for your free hand. He squeezed your hands in his and you knew, everything would be fine. You couldn’t look away from Michael as the priest spoke. 

Until it was time for the vows.

Michael spoke earnestly and deeply as he vowed to love you, honor you, and cherish you for the rest of your lives. The seriousness of his words washed over you, bringing tears to your eyes. With steady hands, Michael slipped the cole metal of your wedding band onto your finger. You were so overcome that you almost tripped over your own word when it came time for your vows. You took a deep breath and squeezed Michael’s hands as you began. 

“Ti prendo Michael come mio marito sposato, per avere e resistere da oggi in avanti, nel bene e nel male, nel più ricco, nel più povero, in malattia e in salute, da amare e da amare, finché morte non ci separi” You recited the words you had practiced so many times in private just for this moment. 

Michael’s proud smile and teary eyes as you slipped the wedding band on his finger made the hours of practicing and learning your vows in Italian worth it. It was the first time you’d ever seen Michael get teary eyed and it was a sight you’d never forget. 

The priest was still talking but you only half heard his words, still too focused on Michael and the way he was looking at you. 

His eyes never left yours until you finally heard the priest say, “You may now kiss the bride.”

Michael’s hands cupped your face softly as leaned into you and pressed his lips against yours as passionately as he could in a church. It was over too quickly though before the two of you were pulling away from each other and Sonny was clapping Michael on the back and Connie was handing you back your flowers as the church bells rang. Michael still smiled at you though, a small smile with a glint in his eye that broke through his normally serious exterior.

You smiled back at your husband. 

[haruka-zell07]

if possible, do you think you can do one where Naru is Duke Fredo's dead kid (wow this sounds way weirder than I thought it would)

you can make it as angsty or fluffy as you want :)

a/n : Thank you for requesting!! this is my first fanfic req so, I hope you like it! Sorry for late post tho ;-; warning : slight about death, angst(and fluff :D), also OOC for Naru

Who exactly is Naru? What is he?

That was everyone's question whenever they asked Duke Fredo. But then, it was confirmed that Naru was living somewhere far from the Duke's palace. However, the truth is always hidden. The existence of 'Naru', Duke Fredo's son, was gone after White Star came to Enable Kingdom. After his death, somehow, he came alive again (?). Duke Fredo didn't know how it worked, but he was glad that he could stay by Naru's side.

The current Naru is a ghost, no one can see him. Unless, it's Fredo himself. The unfortunate thing is, Naru doesn't have memories from his death. So, Duke Fredo decides to not tell him. At least, let him be selfish for once.

Whenever it's time to eat, Fredo will tell the servants to send food to his room. He'll wait till no one is near the room and call out to Naru.

“Pa, pa…?,” answered Naru.

“Naru, come to papa,”

Naru peeks out his head and goes to sit beside his father. He eats happily while humming. There are times when Fredo can't sleep because of random nightmares. And when that happens, Fredo will bring Naru, who is a ghost that can't sleep, to a garden. The garden was built by Fredo himself, it was beautiful. Naru would watch the fireflies that dance in the air, meanwhile, Fredo… just gazes gently at his son.

Sometimes, Naru asks for some cuddles from his father. Fredo didn't mind it, he took his son to his lap. Hugging him gently and carefully, as if He was a glass that might break easily.

He wished this warmth would stay forever. But 'Every beginning has its own ending'.

One day, Naru suddenly disappeared from Fredo's sight in the morning. Fredo was anxious and worried. Where did he go? He spent the day to find Naru but still couldn't find him. Then, he went to Naru's favourite place, it was the garden that he built. He was right, Naru was there. He ran to his son and hugged him. “Naru, I've been searching you all day! Where were you?!” Fredo then cupping his son cheeks carefully. He couldn't see his face yet.

“Naru, please promise to papa, you won't disappear like that again!” scolded Fredo. “Papa…” Fredo heard his son's trembling voice, and finally looked at Naru's eyes. He was…crying?

“Naru…? What's wrong?”

“Papa, why didn't you tell me? WHY DID YOU HIDE THE FACT THAT I AM DEAD?!”, yelled Naru. Fredo was shocked, this was the first time Naru yelled and….he knew the truth. How did he know?

“H-how?”

“I GOT MY MEMORIES BACK, ALL OF THEM!” Fredo gasped,

“S-son, I can explain-”

“I don't need any explanation, for now, I-I'm scared… I'm scared papa…” Naru cut his father's words, but Fredo didn't mind it. Right now, he needed to calm his son first.

After calming Naru, Fredo asked Naru to explain what happened. Before he could answer, some parts of Naru's body became pieces and scattered, they then disappeared into thin air. “Ah, it's finally the time,” stated Naru. Fredo's eyes were trembling, he was clueless. “Naru…?” “This is the last time you saw me” “This is the last time you'll see me” “Naru.” “This is our goodbye, father” “Naru!”

He could feel it, it's felt the same as the time when Naru's died. He's about to go.

No, no, no….

Fredo kept hugging his small figured son, cried for him to stay. Naru's body parted to pieces, vanished without any traces. He couldn't do anything but gaze into the void of night. Since that day, the servants felt uncomfortable with Duke Fredo's quietness. They were worried about their master, but couldn't dare to speak up. One servant perhaps suspiciously knew something, he had witnessed everything in front of his eyes. He heard one sentence from his master.

“Rest in peace, my dear child.”

[argeriant18]

My stupid mind going down the drain thinking of the plot of Godfather but with Filipino-Chinese elements cause I am Filipino-Chinese and most of the businesses in my town are owned by Filipino-Chinese so yeah hahahaha

I think the Corleones could either have Wang or Long as a surname. Wang for having the meaning for "king" and Long for having the meaning for "dragon"

Or they could have a transliterated surname

They would probably have an English name and a Chinese name but I don't know how to do that hahaha

Tom's gonna be Filipino

Kay's gonna be Filipino too and how everyone judges Michael for dating a Filipina absolutely works because Chinese families usually don't look kindly upon marrying Filipinos for some reason

Michael's exile can either take place in Hong Kong or Taiwan

I don't really know what to substitue for cannoli but my thoughts are either tikoy or special hopia

Vito's love for oranges being justified cause it's said to bring good luck and fortune

Them speaking in Hokkien or Cantonese

The family going to the cemetery for Mama Corleone's parents during November 1st and Vito going around the cemetery to give out candles and talk to family friends. He probably brings Sonny, Fredo, Tom, and sometimes Michael though I feel like Michael's the type to stay with Connie and Mama Corleone at the family plot. Tom feels like he's only gonna be there to discuss legal matters and he would usually end up getting called from the family plot by Fredo or Sonny cause Vito called for him.

So far that's the only thing I thought of so far hahaha this has been on my mind lately

[t4tbruharvey]

please be deranged about the godfather

highlights from my shared document with my friend that contains my new godfather canon:

Sonny fully thinks he’s BoyBestFriends with tom. He’s having an ‘everyone wants to fuck the homies’ moment. He doesn’t think tom’s his brother or his friend but a secret third thing

I cannot stress this enough. They’re weirdly codependent. Tom goes to college and sonny’s lamenting at home (this is during a mafia war, canonically) like man :( wish my bestest friend was here :( in this mafia war with me :( and there was only one mattress :( 

Tom and johnny fontane had a Thing when they were teens

Source: i don’t think for a second the thought that it was gay crossed johnny’s mind. Tom’s entire inner dialogue in the book about johnny is ‘god i fucking hate that guy he’s so annoying coming in here like he owns the place and the godfather likes him more than me because johnny is sicilian woe is me i hope johnny gets hit by a truck’ and i think that’s really funny if it’s covering up a gay thing. Equally they have like one (1) interaction in the johnny fontane minigame in which johnny is like ‘im sorry for being such a cunt to you :( i always respected you and i’m going to stop drinking for a while because you asked me to’ which is unfortunately the most genuine interaction johnny has with another human being in the whole book.

The aforementioned Thing is that one time johnny made out with tom when he was really drunk and this was like, really annoying for tom because he’d sort of spent a few months redirecting lust into annoyance AND johnny doesn’t remember it

Fredo has a really watery laugh and kind of watery eyes also? Like in frankenstein. He reminds everyone of the creature from frankenstein

When tom gets married (canon, to a woman called theresa or maybe there’s no h but point still stands) it breaks sonny’s brain. He fully goes to tom like what but you’re- you- you know, you like- how does that even- and tom has to gently explain the concept of bisexuality without ever looking any of the concepts at play in the face

Michael and tom both know how to eat pussy and sonny doesn’t

[band--psycho]

Sirius Black x Reader-Love

Third Person POV

“I can’t believe you’ve never heard of these,” Y/n/n said, shock written all over her face

“I think you’re just making words up at this point,” Sirius said shaking his head in confusion, a small chuckle escaping his lips as he raised his eyebrows at Y/n/n.

“I’m not!” Y/n/n protested, laughing at the confusion on Sirius’ face. 

“Fredo is not a real word,” Sirius retorted. 

“Half the spells we learn don’t sound like real words! But that doesn’t seem to bother you,” Y/n/n pointed out. 

“Most of them are latin,” Sirius said but Y/n/n just simply rolled her eyes. 

“Most of them are latin,” Y/n/n mocked, causing both of them to burst out in laughter. 

“I’ll see if I can get my mum to send me some old sweets so you can try them,” Y/n/n said once the laughter died down. It shocked her at first when she heard that Sirius had never heard of any of her favourite childhood sweets, but then she remembered just how different their childhoods really were.It both angered and saddened her when she would think about how cruel his family were to him, his parents especially..and it made her heart ache when she would see the sadness in his eyes when he’d talk about his parents and how they would never approve of him being associated with anything that was less than a pureblood; but someone like her...that was a disgrace in their eyes; not that that bothered him in the slightest.

“I look forward to it,” Sirius chuckled as he pulled Y/n/n into a long hug, placing a delicate kiss on the top of her head, his actions made Y/n/n blush as she wrapped her arms around him. This feeling was new to both of them, a feeling of happiness and safety. At first Y/n/n was apprehensive to get close to Sirius, his reputation preceded him; he was the Hogwarts player and she didn’t particularly have a good track record with dating, but there was something about him that made her stomach feel like it was full of butterflies when he smiled. Likewise Sirius was hesitant to allow himself to properly fall for someone..but when he heard Y/n/n laugh he couldn’t help the way his heart swelled, that’s why he was always trying his best to make her laugh; but now..eight months down the line he they were. Happy. In fact things had been going so well, that Y/n/n was going to ask if he wanted to stay with her and her family for a few days over the coming christmas holiday..knowing that he probably wouldn’t want to spend it at home but not right now, for now she just wanted to enjoy being in his embrace.

Time Skip-A Few Days Later

Y/ns POV

I was practically running to the common room in excitement, clutching the parcel from my family I’d been waiting for, which was full of Muggle treats that I was eager for Sirius to try; When I made it to the common room I felt a wave of awkwardness wash over me, as I saw a couple who were taking advantage of the empty common room. The girls long blonde hair shielded her partner from sight and that along with the back of the sofa made it difficult to work out who they were. I dropped my gaze, not wanting to interrupt them and quickly began to make my way up to my dorm room but my steps were halted at the familiar masculine voice. I turned my head slightly not wanting to believe what I’d just heard...I felt the box fall from my arm, landing with a dull thud causing the two occupants to turn and face me...my attention wasn’t on the girl, rather it was locked on the pair of stormy eyes belonging to the boy I had fallen in love with that were now gazing at me. I couldn’t help but see the love struck expression on his face, as my eyes traveled to see the lipstick stains that covered his lip and lower jaw. I bolted across the common room and back down the small hall through the door and the common room; I heard the fat lady cry out, but I just kept running, countless thoughts rushing through my mind as my emotions overwhelmed me; the tears blurring my vision as I ran down the stairs; only to collide with someone, causing me to stumble backwards.

“Sorry,” I muttered, keeping my head down as I tried to regain my balance. 

“Y/n/n?” confusion was evident in the familiar tone, I looked up quickly to see a cascade of red hair and a familiar jumper that could only belong to Remus.  I couldn’t help the whimper that escaped my lips as I fell into the arms of my best friend, I  felt Lily return the embrace almost instantly as I cried into her shoulder.

“What’s happened?” Lily asked, but the only response I could give her was a shake of my head, as I continued to cry into her shoulder. I could barely process what I’d just seen, let alone try and put it into words. 

“Go find Sirius,” I heard Lily say, but before Remus could go anywhere, I grabbed onto his sleeve, shaking my head as a sob left my lips, not trusting my voice enough to speak. 

“Y/n/n, we can’t help you, if you don’t know what’s happened,” Remus said, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. I took a deep breath, trying to compost myself, I knew I had to explain to them what happened, if only to ease the worried look that was in both of their eyes. 

“I-it’s Sirius...”, I stuttered, attempting to hold myself together.

“He..was..I saw them… him and Krista were, they were kissing…”

Part 2

[shadeofazmeinya]

That Golden Spark

Summary: Los Santos was alive most at night. When the artificial lights shine brighter than the sun, when all the real business happens between whispers and concealed hands.Trevor has the unfortunate task of gathering the Fakes for the night. Surely they couldn’t have gotten into too much trouble without him.

A/N: For the @rtwritingcommunity Springfairy fic exchange! This one for @uy8hg! A simple fahc fic that was a lot of fun to write!

Los Santos was alive most at night. When the artificial lights shine brighter than the sun, when all the real business happens between whispers and concealed hands. And the bars were the most lively, the music swirling through the streets, the sounds of people’s yells and laughs bouncing off the buildings. It was no different this night, at a small but no less crowded bar in the Fakes area of the city. A favorite and Trevor knew that this is where everyone will be.

Trevor can only sigh as he walks up to the dive bar, the building vibrating with shouting and crashing. A pair tight in a brawl burst from the door, nearly colliding with Trevor as they fell to the street. Not breaking apart as they roll around and chase each other down. Trevor rolls his eyes, sidestepping as he pulls the door open and heads in.

Inside, fists and feet were flying. It was every definition of a bar brawl, people wrestling. Broken bottles and shattered wood scattered everywhere. Two people locked in arms pass in front of Trevor, collapsing a table that splinters and crashes. He hears all the voices blurring together, some unfortunately familiar. But as Trevor scans the place, it doesn’t take long to find the center.

Gavin sits on a stool at the bar, one arm resting on it as he is facing the crowd. His legs were crossed, with a foot tapping to the barely audible music. He shifts just enough to avoid a brawl slamming besides him, lip pulling into a smirk as he takes a drink from some brightly colored concoction. His sunglasses are on, the scenes of violence reflecting against the gold as he watches like he was enjoying a movie.

Trevor has always known Gavin was a talented fuck. Gavin knows how to wrap people around his finger, get people to do what he wants without them even realizing. Unfortunately, Gavin doesn’t tend to use these powers for good.

“Free,” Trevor huffs, pulling one of the only standing stools over to sit besides him. “Fredo said you got here only 15 minutes ago.”

Gavin laughs. “New record, innit? Barely even had to talk this time. Just a few looks, a few winks. Bloody almost got hit!”

“Gavin,” Trevor says, glaring. “Seriously, I thought I told you to lay low.”

“We are laying low. No one will be able to remember anyone in this. And besides, Michael and Jeremy needed a go-” Gavin points and Trevor dreads looking over but does anyway. Sees Michael and Jeremy laughing as they both are taking on four different guys. It is impressive to watch, the two twirl perfectly around each other, knocking out their drunken opponents. At least Trevor knows their brawlers can handle these bar fights. But there was one more.

“And Alfredo?” Trevor huffs. 

Gavin blinks, mind falling in a sudden realization and looks around. “Bloody hell, where did he go? He was the one that wanted a bar fight!”

Trevor lets out a deep sigh at that, standing back up. He drops a few hundreds onto the counter, nodding to the cowering bartender who stood in the corner. Then he faces the crowd, glaring. He lifts his hand and lets out a piercing whistle.

The bar stills instantly. People pause mid swing, with arms wrapped in headlocks, bottles settling onto the floor. Michael and Jeremy both drop who they were wrestling, exchanging sheepish looks as Trevor speaks.

“I’m sure you’re all having fun here. But I would suggest to anyone I do not know to leave. Now.”

People just stare, frozen in their place. “Now.” Trevor snarls, voice thick with unsaid threats, and finally the crowd kicks into action, scrambling out of the bar.

“Cmon, Trevor,” Jeremy whines as they step over, whipping their bloody knuckles on their shirt. “We were just getting into it!”

“And now you’re done,” Trevor huffs. “Do you two idiots know where Alfredo is?”

“Is everyone gone?” a small voice is heard behind them and they all glance to see a familiar pair of eyes peeking out from under the bar.

Gavin smirks, shaking his head. “Trevor scared everyone off. You’re safe now.”

Alfredo sighs, climbing out and over the bar, sitting on the ledge. “Fuck, that shit got intense.”

Michael smirks, laughing. “That’s what fucking bar brawls are. You’re the one who said you wanted to be in one. Because you’ve never been in a fucking proper fight before.”

Alfredo shrugs. “Well, I can scratch that off my bucket list. Can I go to bed yet? I think I’ve had my experience and I learned it doesn’t need to happen again.”

“You’re all heading home,” Trevor sighs. “We have a heist tomorrow. In case you forgot.”

“We’re all ready,” Michael laughs, leaning over the bar to grab another bottle of beer. But Trevor smacks his hand, swiping the bottle away.

“We can drink more after the heist. So you don’t have hangovers. And can focus.”

“We really didn’t drink that much,” Jeremy assures. “One beer each so far. We know not to be too impaired for a heist.”

“At least one of you is responsible,” Trevor hums. “Fredo, you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he assures, grinning. “Just didn’t expect the fight to involve so many fucking people. Gav can rile a whole crowd in seconds.”

“It’s one of my many talents,” Gavin purrs then laughs, setting his drink aside and standing up. He opens his wallet, slipping out another stack of cash and setting it down. He just winks to the poor bartender who’s still squished into the corner, shaking. “I’m sure this’ll cover the damages, luv. Sorry about all this.”

The bartender just nods, carefully taking the cash, eyes widening as they flip through the hundreds that Trevor and Gavin have both set out. Enough for the damages and more.

The night air chills through all of them, as Trevor leads the way out to the cars. Michael and Jeremy laugh and push each other around, retelling their victories of the night. Alfredo sheepishly adds the hits he got in, earning cheers. Trevor rolls his eyes, but can’t help the fond smile that grows. He knew how much he was inheriting, taking over more of Ramsey’s roles, becoming the boss. And while these idiots certainly don’t make the role easy, he doesn’t regret it at all.

[melis-writes]

Moth to Flame (Part II) [Michael Corleone x Reader Series, 18+ Smut] Chapter 40 – Legacies.

Read on AO3 / Read Chapter 39 / Chapter Masterlist. / Fic Playlist.

18+, explicit smut read.

"I promised her if she ever provoked my family again, I would help her bandmates search for her body." / “You’re a Corleone and you will behave like a Corleone."

What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas and with a steady eagerness to rid the Corleone family of Fredo's legacy a year after his death, neither you nor Michael have any regrets. Provoking you means provoking both the Corleone and Ferrari families and you've merely added Rita Duvall's timely death as another skeleton in your closet. Leaving legacies behind but not the past, Michael reminds Sonny who the head of the family is and where his trust is misplaced in his older brother. There is no longer any room for mistakes in the Corleone family, but bloodsheds and secret are welcome.

[WARNINGS]: Mentions and depictions of death, violence & blood / Oral sex / Heavy smut -> unprotected sex, creampie / Mentions and themes of sex & nudity.

[AUTHOR'S NOTE]: The next chapter is here and ready to explore the cunning side of Mrs. Victoria Corleone. 🥴 Since Part II is action, angst, smut and fluff packed, I'm making a habit of keeping chapters short (but not too short!) to explore one theme/plot at a time. ❤️ We get to see the before, after, and everything in between! Ahem and yes, that includes some quality time spent with Michael on that plush, king sized hotel bed... 😌 We can ignore the atrocities for the smut. 😂💀

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

Despite being almost notorious for her slyness, attitude, and promiscuous talk, Rita never imagined like some of her coworkers did that her mouth would ever lead her to any serious trouble, let alone her death.

With the split-second feel of a cold, razor-sharp blade against her throat, every passing moment from the very minute thick, crimson blood began to spew from Rita’s neck that reminded her she was alive despite being on the verge of inevitable death, were just gifts you gave her. 

Every breath Rita took to brag about planning to blackmail you was another gift you gave her’ provoked and already sealed Rita’s fate in the back of your mind.

Rita was hopeless from the beginning but helpless as soon as her body hit the ground. Holding her hand to her neck, Rita knew it wouldn’t help her or prevent her death which came just a minute after bleeding out to death on the floor.

The last voice and words Rita heard were yours, and you were also the last person she’d ever see again. 

You stare down at Rita with disappointment and disgust over your expression, remaining still. For a moment, you neither move nor take your eyes off Rita’s motionless body, ensuring to yourself that she’s actually dead.

“You should thank me, sweetheart,” you murmur down to Rita’s corpse. “Had I not put you out of your misery just now, a mafiosi would have. This befits you.” You glance at the blade in your hand, still firmly holding it but carefully so that your fingers are over the top of the fabric of your coat so as not to leave any prints behind.

With one swift movement, you flick the blade toward Rita’s face—watching the last bits of blood dripping from the blade splatter over her face.  

Just on time as you planned, you hear a soft knock come from the door behind you.

“Come in,” you answer casually, expecting someone.

The door slowly and quietly opens, revealing your bodyguard Ritchie who slips in and is quick to shut the door behind him immediately. “Mrs. Corleone.” Ritchie clasps his gloved hands in front of him, waiting for further orders.

Of course, your bodyguard naturally followed you since you left the hotel, but your orders were for Ritchie to take an alternative route so he could keep an eye on you but not be seen by anyone else or come too close to raise suspicion. 

Ritchie didn’t need to ask questions or assume your motives; he’s a made mafioso and has accompanied Clemenza as a bodyguard in the past—seeing him enter buildings silently and leave a corpse behind one too many times.

Ritchie’s job now remains the same; he’s to protect you, support you and conceal you regardless of the circumstances.

“She’s dead,” you point out, taking a step back from Rita’s body.

Ritchie’s eyes gaze over Rita’s slit throat and her dead eyes wide open, frozen in time. He simply gives a nod, understanding. “Would you like me to make it look like an accident or suicide?”

“No, that won’t be necessary,” you carefully hand Ritchie the blade between your fingers. “I made Miss Duvall a promise once,” you glance back at Rita’s body over your shoulder—first at her face, then her abdomen. “I promised her if she ever provoked my family again, I would help her bandmates search for her body and I intend to keep my word.” You gesture to Rita’s corpse, “she loved the company of the Tattaglias and Barzinis for years now. Word of a prostitute like her winding up dead doesn’t make the news, especially one who prefers to seduce married mafiosi. We’ll give her the Barzini and Tattaglia treatment she loved so much. You know how they liked to send their messages, don’t you?”

“Yes, Mrs. Corleone,” Ritchie nods.

“Good,” you brush off your hands on your jacket. “The swamp will handle the rest.”

A common tactic used to depose bodies by many mafiosi families such as the Barzinis but particularly the Tattaglias sends a clear enough message to those willing to search for the “missing” unlucky individual. 

Thrown into the swamp to let the alligators and nature destroy and decay evidence away, full remains are almost never found, and the ones that are become extremely difficult to identify or link to the actual killer. 

The thick, muddy, and murky waters of the swamp do away with washing off the skin and evidence on it if there is any, and only mafiosi acquainted with the body disposal tactic know the clear message it gives. 

Nobody can possibly trace Rita’s murder back to you under these circumstances, let alone pin the murder on you, the Ferraris, or the Corleones who have rarely ever used such a tactic.

Rita’s bandmates and the police can search wherever they believe Rita often visits and is found, but searching at the bottom of a muddy swamp will never come to mind, let alone to fruition. 

‘I warned you, Rita Duvall.’ As if it has any importance, to begin with, March 4th, 1956 marks the death of Vegas showgirl, prostitute, and singer Rita Duvall by your hands.

“I’ll make it back to the hotel on my own,” you move to exit without another glance back or word said.

There’s no need to repeat or clarify instructions to Ritchie, let alone tell him to be quiet and discreet. 

More than merely competent as both a bodyguard and mafioso himself, Ritchie stares down at the body of Rita as you exit out of her room, envisioning how he’ll stuff her body into a garbage bag first. 

Calm, collected, and relaxed, you make your way down the hallway of the brothel toward the exit as if you own it.

You can’t possibly care less about who or what is around you, let alone if anyone else is here to see you.

Even when you pass by the same prostitute you saw and asked where Rita was when you got to the brothel, you come to notice she’s resting against the wall smoking a half-burnt cigarette while nodding off on some high with her eyes closed.

Smoothening out your jacket, you walk out of the brothel’s back entrance and continue towards the hotel as if nothing had happened.

In the meantime, Ritchie opens up a garbage bag and sets it by Rita’s feet before he begins to pull at her thighs and drag her towards the garbage bag.

Shoving Rita’s body inside the garbage bag in a fetus-like position without any care of broken bones or how the shape appears over the bag, Ritchie proceeds to triple wrap Rita in two more black garbage bags to prevent any smell or blood leaking from it.

As you make it to the hotel’s entrance, Ritchie’s already hauling Rita’s body out the side entrance—conveniently remaining completely secluded.

The car Ritchie brought over is parked just a few feet from the side entrance and with a fake license plate so as not to be traced.

Ritchie opens up the trunk of his vehicle and tosses Rita’s body into it before locking up the trunk and getting into his car.

Going past reception in the hotel and taking the elevator, you unbutton your jacket and hum quietly to yourself, thinking now it won’t be long until Michael returns and that you’ve returned to the hotel suite before he has without a doubt.

As you unlock the door to your suite and take a step inside, you can practically feel the sense of relaxation wash over you again.

With your mind on nothing but getting cozy and waiting for Michael to return for the night, you shut the door behind you and notice nothing out of the ordinary in the suite and certainly no signs of Michael’s return yet.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice a tray placed over the top of one of the dressers by the door holding a bottle of chilled champagne in a bucket of ice, and a plate of chocolate-covered strawberries with a card that reads “for room service over it”.

A pleased smile breaks out on your lips as you pop one of the chocolate-covered strawberries in your mouth, welcoming the taste of sweet milk chocolate over your tongue. 

Hanging up your jacket on the coat rack and taking off your shoes, you certainly don’t have any intention of telling Michael what you did, let alone that you left the suite room. 

Picking up the tray and setting it over the nightstand instead, you strip back into your silky nightgown and let out a deep sigh of relief, getting ready to truly enjoy your night.

You move towards the television, adjusting it to put on a film for background noise when you peek your head up to hear the suite door opening. 

Michael steps into the suite, spotting you first thing and causing you to blush instantly.

“Hi, baby,” you greet, rising to your feet.

“Hello, darling,” Michael shuts and locks the suite door behind him. “Did I keep you waiting too long?”

“Just a little,” you tease, turning down the television volume and beginning to approach your husband. “How was everything? All in order?”

“Fine,” Michael lets out a sigh of annoyance, taking off his shoes. “As I mentioned before, we could have dealt with this much earlier but at least now all the paperwork is in order. Neither of us will need to waste any more time here than we already have.”

“Mmhmm,” you wrap your arms lovingly around your husband’s shoulders. “Thankfully too. I think we’re both homesick as is from all of this but you didn’t leave here so tense, baby.” You begin to tenderly massage Michael’s shoulder muscles.

“I suppose not, darling,” Michael pecks your lips sweetly as you step behind him, taking his suit jacket off. 

“You intended on relaxing after your shower, right baby? You can do so,” you gesture to the tray of champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries. “Courtesy of room service.”

“I appreciate it, sweetheart,” Michael loosens his tie, pulling it over his head. “Even if somebody’s dying, I’m not dealing with anything Fredo caused further this evening.”

“Fair,” you smile back, kneeling on the bed.

Approaching the nightstand, Michael eyes the bottle of champagne, then looks back at you as you sit on the bed expectantly.

“Join me?” You offer.

Michael moves over to caress your face lovingly, admiring your smile and using his free hand to unbutton his dress shirt. “Absolutely. Give me a moment here, baby.”

Just as Michael pulls back and turns around to hang up his clothes, you sit cross-legged on the center of the bed and eagerly watch your husband begin to undress before you.

Just the sight of Michael’s back and shoulder muscles creasing as he pulls off his dress shirt is more than enough to pump arousal through you.

Shirtless and only in a pair of black trousers, Michael runs a hand through his hair and grabs a hanger for his dress shirt, but you don’t waste any time waiting for Michael to turn back to you either.

You slip down the straps of your nightgown and let the fabric fall off your shoulders, exposing your breasts as you patiently wait for Michael.

“So,” Michael speaks up, about to ask how you spent your time or if you’re comfortable and enjoying the hotel, but the moment he turns around, Michael meets your passionate gaze and an inviting scene before him.

“So?” You ask, softening your tone down to a whisper.

Michael’s gaze lingers over you, moving down to your breasts and noticing the teasing, insistent look in your eyes and provocative body language emanating from you. 

“I missed you,” you lick your lips, pressing your breasts together. “Can you blame me?”

“Not at all,” Michael murmurs, tugging off his leather belt. “You were looking forward to this, weren’t you?”

“Were you?” You smirk, leaning up and letting the nightgown slip further down your chest as your breasts jiggle from the movement.

Michael’s eyes still remain over you, unable to get enough of the seductive, sexy sight of your teasing let alone how your breasts are still plump and swollen with breast milk—having gone up two more cup sizes since you had the twins.

“You know I was,” Michael lets his belt fall to the floor as he leans over you on the bed, placing his hands over your nightgown loosely remaining by your hips.

“Good,” you breathe before an erotic silence befalls the two of you.

Michael tugs off your nightgown and slips it off your thighs, tossing it over the bedpost.

Completely naked underneath without even a pair of panties, you eagerly spread your legs in front of Michael and let your hands rest over the duvet.

Keeping his eyes locked on yours, Michael moves down closer towards you and cups your inner thighs—massaging them before letting his hands wander further between your legs.

“Eat,” you whisper out, tugging on Michael’s silky, dark hair. 

“As you wish, darling.” Michael’s hands immediately come down to cup your ass before he leans in, positioning his face between your legs. 

Resting your ankles over Michael’s shoulders, you let out a tiny whimper feeling his breath directly over your clit and his lips only a few centimeters away from your pussy.

Michael’s eyes meet yours once more before he pulls you down closer to his face by your thighs, squeezing your ass and burying his face into your pussy in an instant.

“M-Michael, ohhhh…!” You let out a soft whine, eagerly spreading your legs open as wide as you possibly can.

Breathy whimpers escape your lips as you watch the tip of Michael’s Roman nose trailing up and down your clit at an agonizingly slow pace—causing you to buck your hips towards Michael’s face in response.

Michael’s hands cup over your ass harshly, squeezing it now and again as he continues burying his tongue between the folds of your pussy while focusing on your clit.

“Ooh! OH!” Your moans grow louder as you feel Michael’s tongue parting open your pussy lips.

Enthralled in a wave of intense pleasure constantly washing back and forth over you, you roll your eyes back and curl your toes as you feel Michael’s hot, warm tongue licking up your clit.

“Oh my G-God, Michael… Michael…” It’s as if Michael’s memorized every sweet, weak spot in your body and he’s eager to please, keeping up a perfect and steady pace to build your orgasm.

Sloppily eating your pussy, the sounds alone cause your knees to tingle in numbness and you can no longer keep quiet even if you tried.

Strands of Michael’s hair begin to cling to his forehead as he only presses his tongue down further over your clit, making sure to greedily lick up the wetness trickling out of you.

“Yes, yes, yes!” You squeal, tugging on Michael’s silky hair and pushing his face further between your legs. “L-like that, like that! Just like that, mm!”

Michael doesn’t relent and the sensation of an intense orgasm deeply building in your gut begins to grow—threatening to release every time Michael’s nose or stubble grazes against your clit again.

“Eat, eat it, yeah, baby, yeah…” Your breath hitches as you watch Michael through lazy eyes, seeing him lap up your clit and angle his chin upwards.

Michael keeps the same pressure and rhythm over your clit as you struggle to force back and edge out your orgasm, but you can only hold out for so long before your body gives in.

Moving one hand down, Michael’s quick to tug off his trousers with his briefs—no longer able to ignore his own insistent arousal as droplets of precum ooze down his shaft.

“Oh my God, yes! Mmm, p-please, please, please!” You groan, writhing over the bed as you feel Michael slowly begin to slick a finger inside of your pussy before curling it.

Michael purposefully begins to grind his face against your clit, keeping you pinned down on the bed with his other hand moving up from your ass and to your hips to keep you in place.

With each time Michael thrusts his finger out of your pussy, more juices trickle out and Michael helps himself by licking up the mess and letting his tongue dart into your entrance. 

“Mmm…” You can hear Michael quietly hum against your pussy, spitting directly over your clit and smearing it around with his tongue.

Moan after moan, you feel your pussy beginning to contract as you grind your hips up over Michael’s mouth just to feel the rhythm of his tongue drooling and suckling over your clit again.

Michael’s ability to build your orgasm up with ease and shows no signs of stopping—paying complete attention to your clit with his lips and tongue. 

Every nerve of your clit feels satisfied and stimulated, only causing your thighs to shake uncontrollably over and over again as your orgasm reaches its tipping point. 

Your knuckles strain white from how tightly you clench at the bedsheets and Michael’s all the most amused seeing how desperate you are to cum in his mouth and give in already. 

“Ohhhh! B-baby! I’m cumming! I’m—Ah!” You throw your head back, letting out a shriek as your orgasm releases through you—rocking a feeling of ecstasy over your body.

Your clit pulsates in response as the heavenly orgasm buzzes through you, taking over all your senses from head to toe momentarily as your muscles tense up. 

Toes curled and thighs quivering around Michael’s head, you force yourself to clasp a hand over your mouth and muffle out your moans.

Michael keeps his mouth pressed against your pussy, gazing up at you with nothing but lust darkening in his eyes.

Catching your breath, you hardly have the energy to sit up on the bed; panting and clutching onto the bedsheets for strength after such an incredible orgasm. 

Michael grazes his finger in between your inner thighs and pussy lips before licking over your cum and wetness off of it—refusing to take his eyes off of you.

“M-Michael… My God,” you breathe out, attempting to sit up as your thighs quiver like jelly over Michael’s shoulders. 

Stroking his cock almost completely lubricated in his own precum, Michael locks eyes with you and kneels on the bed—embracing your body against his. “Come here, baby.”

“Oh, please—” 

Wrapping your thighs around Michael again, your lips crush over his in a needy, hungry kiss as your husband’s hands roam over your tender, supple breasts.

“I w-want you so bad—so much—” you breathe in between the feverish kisses you two share.

Michael gives your ass a light smack before rubbing over it, whispering against your lips as he speaks. “I want to make love to you, darling.”

“Yes, yes, please—” blushing furiously, you nod insistently before kissing Michael’s lips again—letting him lay you back down on the bed. 

“Mm—” Michael breaks the wet kiss, hovering over top of you and nuzzling your neck as both of his hands move down your hips. “Turn around for me, baby.”

Licking your lips to taste Michael again, you do as he says and flip around on your stomach—arching your back to get into a doggy-style position.

“’ Atta girl,” Michael’s voice is low and husky as he speaks to you, squeezing your ass and positioning himself in between your legs.

Resting the side of your face over a pillow, you breathe softly as you gaze up to Michael who taps his cock against your ass before spreading it open slowly.

The soft whimpers that continue to come out of you do nothing but arouse Michael further as he slicks his shaft up and down between your ass before swiftly pushing his hips in and penetrating your pussy.

“Ooh—” Michael hisses, entering your tight, soaked heat.

“Ahhh yes, yes…!” You push your hips back against Michael’s, wanting to take every inch of his thick cock inside of you already.

“I’m gonna make my night here worthwhile with you, baby,” Michael whispers over your shoulder blade before kissing over it—letting his warm lips linger over your skin. “I’m gonna make you feel so good and I—” Michael tilts your chin up, leaving a wet kiss on the side of your neck, “want to hear you say my name again and again.”

“Oh God, please,” you whine out in response, laying flat down on your stomach with Michael’s cock buried into your pussy. “Please baby, please…”

“Victoria, mm—” With a low grunt, Michael bucks his hips towards you—his hot skin pressing against yours with each thrust. 

You clench the pillow you rest your face upon, letting out moan after moan as Michael’s body meets yours again and again.

Michael pushes back a curtain of your hair away from your neck, leaning in and moaning over your shoulder. “I want you…so badly…”

“Take me—more, more—” You arch your back against Michael’s chest, letting every pleasurable sensation he brings you rush over your body.

Soft and breathy moans from the both of you fill the room coupled with the sound of skin slapping against skin from each deep thrust.

Hearing Michael’s velvety voice moaning out over your shoulder only amplifies your arousal further, bringing a tingling weakness to your knees.

“M-Michael, Michael,” your bottom lip trembles from the buildup of another orgasm approaching you.

“Louder…” Michael grips your throat with one firm hand, tilting your chin up to continue leaving a trail of wet, harshening kisses over your neck.

The slightest touch from Michael, his every moan, the way he teases you and his dirty talk have you submitting to him already—craving and desiring more of this man.

“You feel how wet you are for me, baby?” Michael’s free hand roams down your side, caressing up your back. “You feel so fucking good.”

“O-oh my—God—” you whine out, again and again, in between the sounds of your pussy sloppily gushing back against Michael’s cock with each thrust. 

“Music to my ears,” Michael breathes over the nape of your neck, sliding his hand underneath your chest to squeeze at your breasts.

“Oh, baby—you’re gonna make me cum again. Again—” You muffle out your moan against the pillow, squirming underneath Michael.

“Already, baby?” Michael chuckles breathily against your back, watching as you grip the bedpost with all your strength. “I want you to cum with me… Be a good girl and hold it in.”

“You t-tease,” your voice quivers as you feel Michael’s hands squeezing over your breasts; his fingers moving up to toy with your nipples.

“You want me to tease you? Is that it?” Michael places his arms underneath yours, gripping one hand over the bedpost with you. 

“N-no—oh! Ohhh, right there!” You gasp out, angling and pushing your hips back toward Michael’s. 

“Fuck,” you hear Michael mutter under his breath, inhaling sharply. “You’re clenching against me—so fucking tight.”

“MICHAEL!” You shriek, feeling his hips slamming against your ass. 

“Yes, yes, yes, yes…” Michael groans against your skin, smacking your ass again. “Found your sweet spot—”

“I’m gonna cum—you’re gonna make me—” You gasp out as Michael pulls out of you entirely only to fully thrust back in.

“You deserve it, don’t you?” Michael grips his hands over your hips, pushing his cock in and out of you as slowly as he can.

All that comes out of your mouth is another filthy moan—unable to form a coherent sentence with Michael purposefully coming close to your G-Spot but avoiding it at an angle that hits a completely different sweet spot inside of you.

The scent of sex fills the room and you feel almost intoxicated by the pace of Michael’s deep thrusting, feeling as if he’s rearranging your insides.

Your eyes tear up from pleasure as you keep your back arched and ass up, almost in a trance from how you repeatedly begin to feel the same way you would with your orgasm about to release, but without climax.

“Give into me, baby,” Michael pants, ensuring his hips fully meet yours and you take in every inch of him again and again. “You love it—you fucking love it… Shit—” Michael’s cock abruptly slicks out of you.

“In—in—” You whine, reaching your hand back towards Michael. “Fuck me—”

“Impatient.” A smirk crosses Michael’s lips as he angles his cock back into your pussy, entering you again and seeing how your thighs shake like jelly from the impact. 

“Don’t stop!” You squeeze your eyes shut, squeezing the metal bars of the bedpost with all your might. “Oh God, don’t stop! Fuck—fuck!”

“You feel how close you are, baby?” Michael leans back down, resting his chest against your back. “Edging yourself, holding back… All I have to do is—”

“Mm!” Your eyes snap open as you gasp out through a half-scream, half-moan to feel Michael hit your G-Spot, instantly unraveling your second orgasm.

“Ahhh, perfect, baby. Cum for me,” Michael’s eyes flutter shut as he inhales sharply, letting his own climax unwind inside of you.

Attempting to steady your breathing, you let the mind-numbing orgasm flow through you and only intensify the sensation of Michael’s hot cum spurting inside of you.

Michael keeps his cock inside of you, refusing to spill a single drop as you turn your head weakly to make eye contact with him—still in Michael’s grasp.

“I love it when you cum on my cock like that,” Michael leans down to steal a wet, full-mouthed kiss from you.

You kiss back hungrily, still feeling your body trembling from the heightened sensitivity of your orgasm. “G-God…”

“Look at you, baby,” Michael slowly pulls his cock out of you, watching your pussy convulse and begin to ooze out his sticky cum.

“Oh my God,” you reach your hand back underneath you, spreading open your pussy lips. “Feels so full.”

Michael lets his cum drip down and smear onto his shaft before he thrusts right back into your pussy again, lacing both hands with yours tightly.

“Ah—” Your eyes widen in surprise as you make eye contact with Michael, unable to hold back neither your excitement nor arousal for how badly you crave him for a third round to fuck you into bliss again.

“Tonight’s just about you and I,” Michael kisses alongside the outline of your jawline, “and I intend to please you until you can’t take it anymore. How do you want me, baby? Tell me.”

“Make love to me,” you whisper back, gently nibbling over Michael’s bottom lip and pulling it towards you.

“I love you,” Michael speaks against your lips, gently turning you over and raising your legs over his shoulders. 

You moan back into his mouth as all eight inches of Michael’s cock fill you up again—eager to satisfy all your sinful fantasies again.

~

[ August 1949 ]

If it’s one thing you always come to remember when you think and reminisce of when you and Michael first got married, it’s the shyness you had with your budding romance coupled with the thrill of being just married.

Michael and you married in August of 1949 after only being engaged for a few weeks.

Although the concept of a Ferrari marrying a Corleone was mutually agreed upon by your father and Vito Corleone, both men knew it highly depended on compatibility, attraction, and love which all had to be mutually met on both you and Michael’s end.

Had you never married Michael for whatever reason—whether he and you simply couldn’t get along or outright refused, the Ferraris and Corleones would still be allies, but there’d be nothing in-between to guarantee that for long.

Of course, the two families may be allies with no hostility or competition in business for many years to come—perhaps even for a lifetime—but there’d still be suspicion and some lack of trust without guarantees of any kind.

 In many ways, the Ferraris and Corleones killed two birds with one stone when it came to your marriage to Michael.

Now both families would be intertwined, related to one another, and closer than ever on a personal bond whereas it was almost strictly business beforehand, with the exception of Vito and Giuseppe Ferrari’s personal friendship from Sicily.

Your marriage to Michael practically guarantees no civil fallout between the families and completely destroys the concept of a war between the Ferraris and Corleones—both have a son and daughter as well as the family they’ll make at stake and family always comes first.

In truth, you didn’t know much about the Corleones before you personally meet them at the Corleone Estate in the summer of 1949.

You had briefly heard of Santino Corleone only on grounds that he would be heir to Don Corleone as his eldest son, and of course, it was also impossible to ignore Sonny’s bravado once the news that Don Tattaglia’s son had been assassinated on Sonny’s orders as payback for targeting Vito.

You had also heard the Corleone family’s consigliere was not Sicilian or Italian, to begin with, but these were all things you merely heard through discussion and conversation once.

You didn’t have the slightest idea that Don Corleone had more children, let alone Connie—a daughter or that their youngest son was at Dartmouth around the same time as you and enlisted in the Second World War.

All you could confirm for yourself was that the Corleones were a big family, came from Corleone where you and your brothers except for Dante were born, and that your father personally knew Vito Corleone before either of them was Don of their families.

It’s true that your family would prefer you to marry into another mafiosi family, or at least a wealthy Sicilian family with a reputation because of your status, and you—unlike Michael—weren’t eager to do the opposite.

Whereas Michael began his relationship with an American woman, Kay Adams, you believed it was in your best interest to marry a mafioso because you knew you’d never escape your life and background as a mafiosa yourself, nor did you want to. 

You believed it would be unfair to pull someone else—Italian, Sicilian, or otherwise—into such a lifestyle without having them end up dead, ratting to the feds, or becoming a pompous, power-obsessed asshole like Carlo Rizzi.

Because the stakes were so high for you as the only Ferrari daughter when it came to marriage prospects, it only dulled your outlook on relationships further.

Your education was the highest priority, and you didn’t feel “lonely” with your family, friends, and colleagues by your side.

You simply weren’t seeking a relationship or long-term commitment during such a crucial part of your life where your studies meant everything and took up most of your time.

However, that didn’t mean you didn’t have love interests or flings here and there. The only difference was that you strayed away or confirmed to stay friends when you felt you were getting too close or towards commitment. 

Maybe the men you worked with and attended law school with wished they could go on a date with you or get to know you further, but you knew you were doing them a favor.

Anyone who got too close to a mafiosi without being one themselves would always get burned. You knew this then too.

The only time you ever came close to a full-fledged relationship was with a young man named Salvatore Romano whom you attended law school with.

You knew you wanted to be a criminal prosecutor whereas Salvatore was determined to become a criminal attorney. 

From the similarity of being criminal lawyers but the difference in prosecution and defense, the two of you got along very well and spent many late nights studying for exams and motivating one another to pass the Bar.

From looks alone yes, you couldn’t deny that Salvatore was attractive and his kind demeanor sparked your interest, but you knew you had no interest in a relationship and that applied to any man you met during university.

You didn’t mean to get as close to Salvatore as you did, but the two of you found each other constantly spending time with one another naturally—without the expectation of a relationship to begin with.

You could tell Salvatore was attracted and interested in you in every way possible, and he never made unwanted advances towards you or made you uncomfortable.

Perhaps what you had with Salvatore throughout most of law school was almost a relationship without the official title, but it could never come close to comparing with your relationship and love towards Michael even in the slightest.

One of the last few times you heard about the Corleone family being mentioned—especially Michael as the subject matter—was when you were already a full-fledged lawyer working at the city courthouse. 

It was impossible to ignore. Your father and brothers were discussing the fact that “Don Corleone’s youngest son” who was a “civilian” and surprisingly to you uninvolved in the “family business” killed a police captain and Virgil Solozzo. 

Your father knew and did business with Solozzo, and was already preparing to get into the narcotic trade with Solozzo, but the news didn’t spark his temper or any sense of betrayal—it sparked his interest especially because Michael was the one who killed both men.

Nonetheless, for weeks on end, all your father and brothers discussed was the narcotics smuggling trade, distribution, hold on the docks, and taking over where Solozzo ended.

The mention tensions began to rise up shortly after, as Vito wasn’t sure how the Ferraris would act now that Michael had killed one of their business partners and that the matter was over narcotics.

None of the other families let alone during the meetings at the Commission could dare utter any protest towards what Giuseppe was doing.

The Ferraris were simply too powerful and too influential with the police and judges in their pockets for anyone to judge or challenge their role in the narcotics trade. There was no room for competition either.

When your father came home from the Commission meeting as tensions were cooling off between the Barzinis and Tattaglias versus the Corleones, the Corleone family was guaranteed by your family that if the Barzinis or Tattaglias struck again or tried to team up on the Corleones, the Ferraris would directly intervene and happily cause all the necessary bloodshed.

“You ever visit Don Corleone for a cup of coffee outside business, Pop?” Alessio set down his newspaper after reading the old article about Solozzo and McClusky’s death. 

Giuseppe chuckled, putting down his cigar. “I think about it every now and then. Hard to do when all eyes are on both of you, waiting to make a move.”

“That’s all they can do,” Lorenzo took a drag from his cigarette. “Watch and stare. Barzini and Tattaglia know they can’t make a move on you or Don Corleone now.”

“Perhaps not,” Giuseppe smiled back at his son. “But Don Corleone has other troubles to deal with, ones we cannot get involved in.”

“Such as?” You spoke up, curious about the subject matter.

“Such as the fact if Don Corleone’s son Michael shows his face too soon, he could raise the FBI’s suspicions and get arrested for Solozzo and McClusky’s death. Don Corleone must maintain his son’s innocence.”

“How will he do that if not through the courts?” You furrowed your brows, knowing of course even though the vast majority of judges were on your father’s payroll, even they couldn’t get involved in Corleone business to defend Michael.

“Well, he already has,” your father nodded. “Don Corleone has sent his son to Sicily, an exile of sorts if you’ll call it that. Once tensions have cooled down here, I’m sure he’ll come to reunite with his family. For now, this is the best course of action.”

“Sounds grim enough,” Leonardo commented. “Shame, hmm? Victoria could have defended Don Corleone’s kid pretty well in court if she wasn’t the one prosecuting them all behind bars.”

“Ha, ha.” You let out a fake, forced laugh. “You flatter me, Leo.”

Michael’s feat with Solozzo and McClusky greatly impressed your father and such an impression withstood the test of time.

Although your father didn’t share it with you or any of your brothers, he became aware after a year or so from Michael’s return from Sicily that he was now getting directly involved in “family business” affairs. 

From all looks of it, Giuseppe saw Michael officially as a “made man” in the mafia and he was exactly the kind of man Giuseppe would let his daughter marry.

That was before anyone ever heard from Don Corleone himself that he was no longer considering Sonny to be his successor as Don instead, but Michael.

When you and Michael married in August of 1949, Michael was not yet Don, but still preparing for his role of successor under his father. 

It couldn’t have been a more perfect time for Michael to do so. As just the son of a Don but not the Don himself, Michael had much more free time on his hands outside of active business and naturally, since your wedding, Vito wanted his son to spend as much time with his new bride at home as possible.

It wasn’t just Vito’s wish, but Michael’s too. Michael’s not the kind of man to ever feel the need to appease anyone or do something because he’s “obliged to”. Michael wanted to.

Michael wanted to get to know everything and anything about you that he could over time, through conversations and quality time spent together.

Michael knew he’d never be able to do it all in one day, but he didn’t ever have the need or intentions to rush his relationship with you.

Michael spent any and all of his free time with you. It didn’t just have to be during dates, sex, or conversations even, as your presence was enough for him.

For the first time in Michael’s life as a changed and hardened man involved in the family business, he felt comfort from his lover’s presence.

Michael never felt questioned, untrusted, or feared by you, but rather respected and loved unconditionally.

There was and is simply no need for Michael to change himself in any way or lie to get to you. You both loved and accepted one another as you were and are to this day.

Time passes by like nothing when the two of you spend a day together, even if it’s nothing more than an ordinary day at home.

You and Michael quickly discovered early on in your marriage how compatible the two of you were just from the endless hours you could both spend talking to one another about anything.

Even over five years on in your marriage, one thing that never changed and never will is the yearning the two of you have for one another—just to see and be with each other.

Emotional chemistry and compatibility aside, your physical chemistry with Michael was nothing but fiery passion.

Just as craving one another never changed, neither did the lust and arousal you two have for each other. 

The immensely passionate attraction you both mutually have for each other manifested easily into lust and sex four to five times a week for the next three months straight.

All the two of you wanted to do was ravish one another again and again, night after night—simply unable to get enough.

“Off,” Michael murmured against the side of your neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses leading up to your jawline.

“Michael,” blushing furiously, you couldn’t help but let out a little moan to the pleasurable sensations racking over your body at once; Michael’s one hand up your satin nightgown, pulling at the waistband of your panties and the other cupping a breast while slowly grazing his thumbs over your hardened nipple.

If Michael had business and work with his father for the day, you’d eagerly wait for him on the bed naked or in lingerie, sometimes in the late of night underneath the duvet with nothing on, or you’d strip down and give Michael a little show in person first.

The intimacy, love, bond, trust, and respect you two gave one another unconditionally and without doubt or hesitation was one only shared by you and Michael—it could never be given and shared with another soul. It eternally belongs to you and him.

Just the way Michael believed and still believes in his very core that his eyes are for you and you’re only for him, the mere concept of another man lusting and desiring you does nothing but make Michael’s blood boil in jealousy.

Both you and Michael are well aware as to just who the two of you are, especially in the public eye, so while common sense tells you two that attraction to either one of you from anyone else is normal, it’s a fatal sin in Michael’s world to see another man making his attraction directly obvious to you.

Despite who he is, Michael’s not exempt from having the classical Italian male jealousy clicking in, only unlike his brothers Sonny and Fredo, Michael never let jealousy control him or his actions.

Michael may raise a brow or ask you where you’re going in a little black dress, but he’s never been one to lecture or deny you over your clothing or where you’re headed. Michael trusts you completely and you trust him. It’s as simple as that.

You glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner of the bedroom, noting that you’d have approximately thirty minutes to make the commute to the courthouse for work today after getting dressed.

Although you sensed Michael’s presence just by the sound and familiarity of his footsteps down the corridor, you were distracted by zipping up the back of your dress.

Pushing open the ajar bedroom door, Michael’s eyes immediately landed on the sight of you still dressing—your back completely exposed with a peek of your panties as you attempted to get the zipper up from your lower waist.

As you glanced up in the mirror in front of you, you noticed Michael’s reflection as he began to approach you from behind.

Blushing, you paused your movements and kept your hand on the zipper of your dress as Michael’s eyes greedily darted up and down your figure.

“What time do you have to be at work?” Michael asked, his voice soft and velvety.

“At twelve—” You let out a soft gasp as you quickly realized when Michael placed his hands over yours that he wasn’t about to help out with the zipper of your dress.

Instead, Michael tugged the dress off of your waist completely and grabbed your hips immediately after, pulling you towards the bed.

“Michael!” You squealed and clutched onto your husband’s embrace.

“I’ll drive you there myself,” Michael’s hands squeezed over your ass as he pinned you down on the bed gently. “The world can wait a little longer.”

Your sex life with Michael since the very beginning but especially during the first few months of your marriage was nothing short of incredible.

More often than not, you and Michael went over three rounds in one night and met with toe-curling, eye-rolling, intense orgasms, and screams filling the bedroom. 

Sexual intimacy aside, the love and passion you share with Michael never ends there. 

The warmth, love, and safety you feel holding hands with your lover, going on walks together, appreciating every detail of one another like how Michael’s smile forms, the sound of your laughter to the silent intimacy of cuddling with one another on the couch while enjoying a film.

Everything from embracing Michael and feeling at home to ironing his dress shirts and still picking up on the scent of Michael’s cologne from his clothes was and is love and intimacy to the both of you.

Never leaving the “honeymoon phase” as others call it, all of your friends and family have been easily able to tell time and time again how the two of you genuinely love, respect, and care for one another.

“These two are meant for each other,” Carmela whispered to Vito as she watched her son kiss the back of your hand, leading you further down the fruit orchard in Corleone. 

In the very beginning, you may have felt just a little embarrassed to be so shy around and with Michael, but in truth, you can’t blame yourself.

A man as smolderingly attractive as Michael Corleone giving you butterflies, making your heart skip a beat, skin heat up and blood rush had to make any woman shy.

Engrossed in a casual business discussion at lunch held in the courtyard of you and Michael’s New York estate, you were the only one who could pull Michael’s attention off of anything.

Still in the middle of discussions, Michael’s world came to a pause when he spotted you just by the garden—holding babbling little baby Niccolò in your arms as you made your way inside the estate.

You were always all Michael could want. He could never not be in love with you. He could never get his eyes off of you. Michael would never want to.

~

[ + 2 Hours, 11:04 PM ]

The dim glow of the lamp on Michael’s night table and the television playing a film across from the bed illuminate the suite as you snuggle up in Michael’s warm embrace.

A tender ache pulsates between your legs, leaving a reminder of the two rounds of steamy lovemaking from half an hour ago.

Michael wraps one arm around your waist as you curl up to his side with your hand over Michael’s bare chest; the two of you are still naked under the duvet.

The television’s volume is turned down low mostly to serve as background noise while the two of you enjoy the rest of your evening before bed.

Fighting off a wave of deep, inviting sleep, you’re the most comfortable you can be in your lover’s embrace under the soft, plush duvet and blankets.

Whether you have business to tend to as soon as you land or not, plane rides always tire you out one way or another, and more often than not, you find yourself utterly exhausted at the end of the day.

Tonight’s as comfortable as you can possibly be in your husband’s arms, knowing when the two of you return back home to Lake Tahoe tomorrow you’ll truly feel cozy and rest with your family by your side.

Barely able to focus on the film from sleepiness, you gaze at the television with lazy eyes—trailing little circles over Michael’s chest with your fingertip.

Michael rests his back against two pillows, sitting up in bed and smoking a cigarette with his free hand; his hair is a sexy, tousled mess with most of his attention over you.

Michael gently rubs up and down your hips, only soothing you further towards falling asleep.

Feeling Michael’s soft, supple skin and his chest hair between your fingers, you slow the tracing movements over his chest as you shut your eyes just to rest them for a moment, but find yourself falling asleep already.

Noticing first, Michael leans down towards you and plants a gentle kiss over your forehead in the hopes it won’t stir you from sleep.

“Mm..” Keeping your eyes closed, you lean up after feeling the kiss and peck a kiss over Michael’s lips in return.

“Falling asleep already, sweetheart?” Michael whispers to you quietly.

“Am…not,” you murmur, snuggling as close as you can to Michael’s chest. “I didn’t even know I was this…exhausted.”

Michael takes a drag of his cigarette, blowing out the smoke away from your direction. “Are you comfortable, baby?”

“Mhmm,” you nod slowly against Michael’s chest. “Very, very…”

“Sleep well, baby,” Michael gently strokes your hair. “I love you.”

“I love you more,” is the last thing you mumble out before dozing off into deep sleep.

~

In the morning, Michael and you both awaken at 6AM and have no further intentions of spending any more time at the hotel let alone Las Vegas than either of you need to.

Despite familiarity in Las Vegas and the luxuries the hotel provides, neither you nor Michael feel at home and are scarcely happy to be here in the first place thanks to Fredo.

Ritchie and Al Neri carry out you, Michael, and Sonny’s luggage to the car the moment you and Michael exit the hotel, choosing to skip breakfast here and dine on the private jet back home instead.

The eye contact Ritchie makes with you first thing in the morning confirms everything’s fine and taken care of, just as expected.

“Seriously though, Mike? What—this was your idea, wasn’t it?” Sonny grumbles, looking at the banana in his hand—the only thing he was able to grab from the hotel for breakfast. “We could have grabbed a plate to go, at least.”

“You’ll be fine,” Michael ignores Sonny’s antics as the car begins to take off. “We were here for business and our business is concluded. Las Vegas doesn’t need our presence anymore.”

“I agree,” you cover your mouth as you yawn. 

“Right,” Sonny rolls his eyes, beginning to peel his banana.

Despite it being a normal morning of sorts, neither you nor Michael comes to notice right away that Sonny specifically refuses to glance in your direction or even speak with you since he stepped out of the hotel and the same applies on board the private jet.

All you can focus on and think of for now is getting home safe and sound, seeing the children and baby Vincent again while knowing you never have to look back at Vegas and the legacy it left for your family again.

With a wool throw over you, you spend the majority of the flight snuggled up on the couch-shaped seat on the private plane next to Michael, sleeping away.

Sitting just next to you, Michael sips his black coffee while reading through a newspaper to relax through the flight.

Naturally, with no witty remarks being heard from Sonny or much of anything from him at all, Michael notes to himself that Sonny’s being unusually quiet and keeping to himself this morning.

Quietly scarfing down his breakfast, Sonny sits opposite the two of you as he did when flying into Vegas, but appears all the more impatient to get home than you and Michael combined.

Seeming like all the Vegas flair is off of Sonny now, Michael refuses to question it simply because he doesn’t care. 

It’s only when Michael’s occupied reading an article that Sonny glances up just once throughout the entire flight to gaze upon you sleeping soundly.

“You should be ashamed of yourself. You’re a deadbeat husband. You’re simply not able to see the bigger picture. Do better, Sonny. Your wife and children are counting on you for it.”

Sonny lets out a quiet, drawn-out sigh to himself, still feeling bitter about the slap but it’s more of a bruise on his ego than anything else.

Perhaps if it was Sandra, Connie, or even his own mother lecturing him on morality, promiscuity, and marriage, it’d just go in one ear and out the other for Sonny.

Sonny would never listen let alone care; after all, he’s heard the same scolding from his family since he was a teenager and it has even less importance to Sonny now despite being married with children because his sex life with Sandra is practically non-existent.

“You’re a disappointment for trying to justify that alone.”

Still, those words coming from you because you care about Sonny’s family and Sandra’s feelings were heard by Sonny who never expected anything like that from you of all people.

“Why do you even care so much?”

Because of that alone, Sonny can’t get your words out of his head from last night but whether he’d actually listen and change what seems now to be in his nature is another matter altogether.

Turning his head away, Sonny chooses to push aside those thoughts and indulge himself in a glass of whiskey, bidding Las Vegas goodbye for now.

~

[ Lake Tahoe Compound ]

“Almost there…” Snuggling onto Michael’s arm, you peek out the car window and already feel soothed at the sight of Lake Tahoe up ahead; being on the familiar path home.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you this eager to get back home before,” Michael comments, gazing down at you. “Can’t say I blame you either, darling.”

“Nuh-uh, don’t think of me as ungrateful,” you giggle quietly, lacing your hand with Michael’s. “I know how rare it is for us to go on a business trip together. I loved every moment I got to spend with you and you only. I like to think of it that way.”

“As will I,” a faint smile grows over Michael’s lips. “Aside from our investments and hotels, Vegas offers nothing for us.”

Both you and Michael practically expect some sort of response from Sonny who sits in the front passenger seat of the car by now, but he remains silent.

“I agree,” you nod back. “And you know, of course…” You can’t help but smile at the thought, “even just being away for a little while doesn’t matter. I miss our babies so much.”

“As do I, although I have enough reason to believe Esther will be the happiest to see you,” Michael points out.

You burst out laughing, nodding back. “Well, let’s hope Vincent wasn’t too fussy while we were away.”

“We’ll have to see about that,” Michael raises your hand up to his lips, kissing them softly.

Blushing, you smile up at your husband and already feel your heart and spirit at ease, approaching the gates of your home.

Michael’s security spots the two black Cadillacs you all arrive in, confirming the license plate and vehicle make to themselves before beginning to pull open the grand gates leading into the compound.

The chauffeurs slow the vehicles, driving carefully inside the compound and towards the estates to drop you three off first.

From the moment the cars come to a stop and you all begin to step out, Sonny smoothens out his waistcoat and lets out a huff—wasting no time in popping open the trunk of the car to grab out his belongings.

Ritchie frowns, taking a step back from the trunk as Sonny grabs his luggage for himself and walks off down the opposite way to his estate with Sandra and the children without another word.

Michael steps out of the vehicle first, taking your hand and helping you get out after him before he wraps an arm around your waist.

The two of you neither notice Sonny’s absence nor question it; turning around to face your estate just up ahead greeted by the twins standing next to the babysitter Esther holding baby Vincent in her arms—all waving at you two.

“Oh my goodness, my babies!” You beam, giddily rushing up to greet your family as Michael follows you.

“Mama! Daddy!” Verona jumps up and down, rushing to approach you with Niccolo.

“Welcome back, mama! Daddy!” Niccolo grins happily.

“Hi, honey!” You lean down to kiss both Verona and Niccolo’s cheeks. “Mwah, mwah—gosh, I missed the two of you.”

“Behaved, I hope?” Michael rubs both Niccolo and Verona’s back as they hug him next.

“Of course!” Verona claps her hands together.

“Always, daddy,” Niccolo giggles, giving his father a big hug.

“Ehhhh…” Vincent stirs, squirming a bit in Esther’s arms but the moment Esther snaps her finger and points at you to grab his attention, Vincent calms down.

“Welcome home, Mr. and Mrs. Corleone,” Esther greets you and Michael with Vincent in her arms. “See, little buddy? I told you they’d be back today.”

“Mio bambino!” (My baby!) You gently scoop up Vincent from Esther’s arms, hugging him. “Hi, baby. Hi, little guy!”

“Gahhhhh…” Vincent’s eyes are wide and in awe of the two of you as he reaches his tiny little hand towards Michael.

“Hello, we’re back,” Michael lets Vincent grab his thumb. “How much trouble did you give Esther?”

“Oh, think nothing of it, please,” Esther chuckles before letting out a sigh of relief.

You cover your mouth to hold back your laughter, shaking your head. “So that means a lot. Not to worry though, little man. Mama and daddy are back, yeah?” You kiss both of Vincent’s little hands. “We’re back, yes we are.”

“How’s my boy, hmm?” Michael gives his baby son a kiss on the cheek. “He’s quiet now, definitely missed his mother.”

“Not just me, don’t you see the way he’s looking at you?” You giggle as Vincent hugs your chest, staring up at his father curiously.

“I know that look, he’ll be after my tie soon,” Michael gives his black, silk tie a little tug, seeing how Vincent’s eyes immediately light up.

“Come on, you two!” You gesture to the twins, “let’s get inside!”

“Your mother and I are exhausted from the trip, so let’s use our indoor voices, yes?” Michael heads inside with you and the twins.

“Okay!” The twins lower their voices to a whisper.

“I don’t think I have time to be exhausted,” you laugh softly, carrying Vincent inside. “Little Vincent here has all my attention.” You glance back at Michael who stops by the corridor near his office. “Niccolo, Verona, with me, please. Daddy’s got a little bit of business to tend to before he joins us for supper. Is grandma cooking?”

“Mhmm,” Verona skips down the hallway next to you with her hands behind her back. “Grandma and Auntie Sandra are!”

“Don’t take too long, daddy,” Vincent looks back at his father. “We missed you.”

“I won’t, buddy,” Michael reassures, nodding. “Get ready for supper with your mother, alright? I’ll be back soon.”

Completely ignoring Sandra’s presence inside his estate as she unpacks Sonny’s belongings, Sonny makes his way towards you and Michael’s estate as soon as he’s no longer able to hear you and the children’s voices.

Sonny grumbles quietly to himself, walking across to your estate with his hands shoved into the pockets of his trousers and an unavoidable irritated expression upon his face.

Knowing Michael will be in his office first thing, Sonny refuses to let the matter from Vegas wait any longer and goes to seize the opportunity to speak with his brother in private.

You and the twins enter the nursery upstairs together to give Vincent a change of clothes for supper and to see if he’s hungry enough to be breastfed, leaving the hallway and living room of your estate completely empty.

As if it’s his own home, Sonny walks into the estate and directly makes his way towards Michael’s office—picking up on the sound of Tom handling paperwork for Michael in the study and making sure he’s unseen to avoid any further conversation.

The door to Michael’s office remains half open and rather than standing in front of the door, Al Neri leans against the wall just across from it.

Sonny and Neri make brief eye contact as Neri gives him an acknowledging nod and Sonny enters Michael’s office.

Neri shuts the door behind Sonny for the sake of privacy and to signal to Michael that he has a “guest” here to see him.

Michael remains standing by one of the half-opened windows of his office, smoking a cigarette and gazing outside.

Upon hearing the sound of his office door shut, all Michael does is glance over his shoulder to look upon who entered; seeing Sonny but not the least bit surprised, curious or even caring his older brother is here and visibly frustrated.

“You know, that wife of yours has just as much of a good right hook as you do,” Sonny comments, approaching Michael.

“I’m not surprised,” Michael turns his head back to look out the window again. “Did you underestimate her all this time?”

“More like I didn’t expect her,” Sonny stares at Michael, growing all the more irritated that his brother barely pays attention to him and won’t even look him in the eye while talking despite the conversation being about you.

“Is there a problem, Santino?” Michael blows smoke out towards the window, completely relaxed and calm in his demeanor. “If so,” Michael slowly turns his head to face Sonny directly, “be forward and state your point.”

“You shouldn’t have brought Victoria to Vegas with us,” Sonny states firmly.

Michael flicks the ashes of his cigarette out the window. “And who are you to tell me that I should or shouldn’t take my wife somewhere?”

“I’m your older brother,” Sonny affirms, standing his ground.

“That has no meaning to me,” Michael replies plainly. “I certainly hope you aren’t assuming I brought Victoria along because you’re under the belief I may think you’re incompetent.”

“No, I’m not,” Sonny scoffs, looking around Michael’s office. “You know me. I’m not fuckin’ stupid to go around thinking that. I don’t think Victoria had any business being there. That was between you, me, Fredo, and Tom. It would have made more sense if you brought your own damn consigliere along.” 

“Sonny,” Michael takes a long drag of his cigarette, “I know you’re not concerned for Victoria’s safety just as I know you don’t care if she is or isn’t involved with Fredo’s brothels.”

“I’m saying this for your own good,” Sonny narrows his eyes. “You brought Victoria to a place that clearly bothers her—makes her uncomfortable. You know she didn’t wanna be there.”

“Neither did I,” Michael points out. “But we did what was necessary. I didn’t make Victoria ‘go’ anywhere.” Michael looks Sonny in the eye, “she came along with me of her own free will.”

“You wanted her there,” Sonny rolls his eyes, crossing his arms. 

“Of course, I wanted her with me. She’s my wife,” Michael blows out another puff of smoke. “I intend to take my wife with me anywhere that I possibly can. She’s no stranger to this business, Sonny. You know that much.”

“Why didn’t you bring Tom then?” Sonny furrows his brows.

“Because when I’m away from the compound, Tom is the Don,” Michael tells him. “He’s in charge of my home and family. That’s his place.”

“Right, right,” Sonny grumbles to himself. “Uh-huh.”

“Don’t ask me to justify my reasons as to why I do what I do, Santino,” Michael maintains a calm, quiet tone as he speaks. “I don’t have to explain anything to you whatsoever. You were overjoyed being in Vegas yourself if I recall correctly. Don’t stall me for whatever you’re holding back. We both know this behavior is unlike you.”

“For fuck’s sake, Mike,” Sonny grits his teeth, “you brought your wife right up in the domain of a woman she hates. Don’t you get that?”

“Victoria doesn’t hate anyone,” Michael rests his cigarette between the corner of his lips. 

It’s the truth. You’d never care that much let alone put such energy into hating someone—especially someone like Rita Duvall. 

“Really?” Sonny stares at Michael in disbelief. “Is that why Victoria lectured me on and on about one of the girls working there? Gave me the whole ‘be a faithful husband and quit sleeping around’ talk, all that ‘I’m so disappointed in you’ bullshit. That was uncalled for, huh?”

“Was it?” Michael raises a brow. “Do you hear yourself? It appears she hasn’t said anything wrong to you.”

“I don’t like being told what to do,” Sonny grimaces. “I’m a grown fucking man—”

“And yet I can hear the guilt in your voice loud and clear,” Michael leans off the wall, taking the cigarette out of his mouth. “What Victoria may have said to you in Las Vegas is something your own mother has been telling you for years. Father too.”

“You’re gonna lecture and scold me too now, huh?” Sonny glares at Michael—his frustration mounting. 

“If you’re saying Victoria stepped out of her place, you’re wrong,” Michael stands in front of Sonny, gazing at him. 

“Slapping me wasn’t wrong, huh? Are you fucking kidding me?” Sonny hisses.

“Calm yourself,” Michael replies, unphased. “I would consider my next words carefully if I was you. I’m only getting the impression that you’re here to tell me you’ve grown upset because Victoria told you to behave. Don’t you think I would guess by now that you must have done something to upset her if she hit you, Santino?”

“She didn’t tell you, huh?” Sonny lets out a deep huff. “Of course, she didn’t.”

“She doesn’t have to,” Michael points out. “Because I know you deserved it.”

Sonny’s eyes widen in surprise as he makes eye contact with his brother, stunned.

“This is a tumultuous time for our family, Santino, in case you needed reminding. Fredo’s legacy hasn’t left a good reputation on our family name as of late and despite Victoria, Tom, and I working to rid ourselves of it, you’re enjoying Fredo’s mistakes, his indulgences—the embarrassment he’s caused us for years. What does that say about not only you but the Corleone family as well? If you were anyone else, I could care less, but you’re a nobody.” Michael takes a step closer toward Sonny, putting out his cigarette on the ashtray next to him without diverting his attention from Sonny. “You’re a Corleone and you will behave like a Corleone. If you can’t control your sexual tendencies, you will relieve yourself in private, not public with women who know your name and reputation and you certainly will not do so in the shadow of Fredo’s legacy. You will stop embarrassing me and this family immediately.”

“Think you forgot what I just told you, Mike,” Sonny’s expression twists into a scowl, “I didn’t come here to be fucking lectured. You’re not Pop, you’re not my third fucking parent.”

“I didn’t send you to New York to seduce my wife either, did I?” Michael snaps back.

Immediately growing quiet, Sonny’s tone and expression cool as a tedious silence fills the office.

Michael nods slowly at Sonny, seeing he’s clearly gotten the point. “You thought I would forget so easily, did you?”

“Mike—”

“Just as you knew better them, you know better now, don’t you?” Michael closes off the space between him and Sonny, staring directly into his brother’s eyes with a venomous glare. “I remember, Sonny. I haven’t forgotten anything.”

“Mike, seriously,” Sonny mumbles to himself, raking a hand through his curls. “That was a whole year ago and we talked about this. Everyone’s over—”

“I’m not,” Michael cuts in sharply. “I’m not ‘over it’, Santino. You don’t speak for me just as you don’t speak for Victoria over anything. When it came to Fredo, I didn’t trust him in business but I trusted him personally. Then you saw what he did to our family, didn’t you? Victoria’s mother is dead because of Fredo, but you? I don’t trust you personally. I trust you with business and your role in the family but after going to take an advance on my wife instead of checking in on her well-being and security with my children, you broke every bit of trust I ever had for you. You knew that Sonny,” Michael lowers his tone to a whisper—only heard between him and Sonny. “I don’t like when you mention Victoria and I don’t like when you talk about Victoria. You lost your right to do that from that very moment on. I don’t want you near my wife alone, I don’t want you to console her or give her advice for anything. For your sake, stay away from every woman but the one you’ve married, and stop embarrassing this family. Do you understand me?”

Sonny stares back at Michael for a moment, pressing his lips down firmly. 

Seeing as Michael doesn’t back down and the “tough guy” act he sees from Sonny has zero effect on him whatsoever, Sonny refuses to talk back.

Instead, Sonny takes a step back, turns away, and exits Michael’s office calmly without another word.

The door shuts quietly behind Sonny as Michael adjusts his tie, staring back at the door as if he can see through it—still hearing every footstep Sonny takes down the hallway and out of his estate.

Michael neither needs a reply nor confirmation from Sonny. This is his first and last warning. If Sonny didn’t know before, he knows now and Michael’s cruel streak of refusing to forgive or forget is officially at its peak.

~

Pushing everything else aside, Michael’s only focus and commitment is to his family tonight and he can’t possibly care less about Sonny’s woes towards you or anything that occurred in Las Vegas.

The first thing Michael sees when he steps into the dining room is you—his wife, and his children helping set the table as you keep little baby Vincent entertained in your arms.

“Aaaaa…” Vincent cooes, extending his little hand towards Michael.

“Hi, honey,” a beaming smile forms over your lips as you wave too. 

Mama Corleone looks up at her son and smiles warmly, helping set the table with Verona while Tom and Niccolo’s voices can be heard back in the kitchen, laughing over a joke.

“Hello, sweetheart,” Michael places a hand over your waist before kissing you sweetly, then planting a little kiss over Vincent’s chubby cheek.

That sense of relaxation, serenity, and familiarity surrounds the two of you well—home safe and sound without care to look or think back.

Tensions have relieved themselves of you for other reasons too, of course. 

You didn’t kill Rita Duvall out of pettiness, hate, mere jealousy, or even because you simply could. 

Until Rita and you were face to face with one another again, you hardly remembered her existence; it’s not as if the thought of her kept you up or frustrated you any other time. 

Perhaps it was because Rita knew you refused to pay any mind to her or her antics coupled with her own jealousy and envy of your lifestyle, marriage, influence, and wealth that did nothing but motivate her to become a splinter under your skin.

Even if you walked into Rita’s room and saw her and Sonny having sex right then and there, you wouldn’t have done or said anything, but Rita’s lies about pregnancy would directly provoke the family and create scandal.

Rita may want money and attention from Sonny seeing she can’t get it one way or another from Michael, and that simply could not happen.

Sonny’s frustration towards you may as well be ill-placed. After all, you did him and his marriage as well as the entire family a favor by silencing Rita’s loud mouth once and for all.  

Emotions such as sudden anger in the heat of things or spiking jealousy are beyond a woman like you; just another two things you’ve learned and been taught to tame and ignore as a mafiosa.

Still, as a mafiosa and the wife of a Don, anyone provoking you directly provokes both sides of your family too. 

Whether Rita Duvall knew better or did not doesn’t concern you whatsoever. All you know when it comes to Rita Duvall is that she deserved everything that she got; no remorse or mercy in your heart whatsoever when it comes to doing what is necessary for the family.

Michael thought and felt exactly the same when he put a bullet in Sollozzo and McClusky’s heads too.

[twinchester27]

Chapter 2 - The First Night

-

Saphie barely registered her own breathing as Michael’s words hung in the air.

*"You are a gift, Saphie. A gift to me”*

The sentence swirled through her mind, each word sharpening the unease weighing in her stomach. She blinked, trying to process the meaning. *A gift? What did that even mean? Surely, this was some kind of misunderstanding. Maybe he was being metaphorical. Or sarcastic. Something, anything other than what it sounded like.*

Her fingers tightened around the cold glass Fredo had slipped into her hand moments earlier. It was strange how normal it felt in her hand, contrasting with the surreal world around her. The grandeur of the manor, the presence of these strangers, and the heavy weight of Michael’s words. She refused to believe this was real.

Fredo leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking softly under his weight. “Come on now, he don’t mean nothing serious by that. Relax a lil,” he said, smiling broadly. “Michael’s just being…Michael.” His laughter filled the room, light and easy, but Saphie barely heard it. *I don’t understand.* She glanced at Fredo, then at Tom, who offered her a reassuring smile that only made her feel more uncomfortable. They were trying to ease the tension, but it wasn’t working.

Her eyes flicked back to Michael as he walked back to his place on the sofa. He sat with his arms resting casually on the armrests, his posture relaxed, but his gaze was anything but. His dark eyes studied her with unnerving calm, as if dissecting her every thought. There was no humor in his expression, no warmth. He had meant every word. *But how could he have?*

She forced herself to speak, her voice steadier than she expected. “What do you mean by that?” she managed. Michael didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned forward slightly, his eyes never leaving hers. She looked away, glancing at the way his shirt exposed a few strands of chest hair before she quickly returned to meet his gaze. The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. “I mean exactly what I said,” he finally replied, his voice low. “You’re here because of your brother. And now, you’re a part of this.”

*Part of what?* She wanted to ask, but the words wouldn’t come. This felt more real, this wasn’t just a weird prank or misunderstanding. Her breath became more rapid. The room felt colder, as if the walls were closing in around her. Her pulse pounded in her ears. She glanced at the door, half-expecting Arnie to walk back in and explain everything. But he didn’t.

She breathed in, trying to steady herself.

*He left me. He left me alone with these strangers. In a strange place. And I don’t know what’s happening.*

Her chest tightened, a swell of frustration rising beneath her confusion. She took a slow breath, forcing herself to stay calm. “Well, I’m not really sure what my brother has dragged me into,” she said, her voice quiet, “but I’d appreciate some clarity.”

Fredo chuckled softly. “She’s got spirit,” he said, raising his glass in a mock toast. Michael, however, didn’t smile. His gaze hadn’t left hers.

“In time,” he said simply. “You’ll understand everything in time.”

Saphie clenched her jaw. She wasn’t used to being spoken to like this, as though she was some pawn in a game she didn’t know she was playing. She wanted to push back, demand answers, but she felt small. She didn’t know these men, or where she was exactly. Or even why she was there in the first place. There was also something about Michael’s calmness, his cold, unyielding calmness that made her hesitate to even think.

Feeling more steady, she looked over at Fredo, who seemed to be a bit more than tipsy. *If he’s drunk I could get more outta him.* She managed a small smile, **“Look Fredo, could you tell me where Arnie’s at? I just would feel better knowing what’s going on” she said, trying to keep her voice casual.

“Don’t worry,” Fredo said, flashing that easy grin again. “He’ll be back soon. Just relax. You’re safe here.”*Safe. Yeah sure. I didn’t feel safe. I feel cornered.* And yet, there was something else. Something beneath her fear. She didn’t want to acknowledge it. She couldn’t. She stole a glance at Michael again. His presence was overwhelming, magnetic in a way that unsettled her. She hated how her eyes lingered on him longer than they should have, how her heart skipped when he shifted his gaze to her. *It’s adrenaline. Fear. Nothing else.*

She jumped slightly at the sudden ringtone coming from her pocket. Looking around briefly, and seeing no protest, she reached down and glanced at her phone. Saphie’s breath caught in her throat as Arnie’s name lit up the screen. Quickly, she brought the phone to her ear. “Arnie?” She gasped. At the sound of his voice relief flooded her, but it was short-lived.

“Saph listen, please put Michael on. Don’t make this difficult”. Her heart sank. This was more than just a dinner. More than a whatever business her brother had gotten himself, and now her, into. “Arnie,” she said, this time more assertive. “Tell me what’s going on.” She heard a sigh over the phone, “it’s complicated, Saph. Just trust me.”

*Trust him? After whatever this is?* *I dont even know where I am!* She shook her head, her frustration bubbling over. “Complicated! You bring me here, leave me with people I don’t know, and now you say it’s complicated?!” She started shaking, her anger consuming her fear. She was no longer afraid to say it as it was. To at least try and demand some answers.

“You’ll understand soon,” he repeated, his tone firm. “Stay there tonight Saph, it’s safer.”

*There it was again. Safe. Why did they all keep saying that?*

“No Arnie, I want to go back to my apartment,” she said, her voice rising. “I didn’t ask for any of this and you can’t force me to stay here.”

Michael’s voice cut through her frustration like ice. “You’re staying.”

Saphie turned, her fear returning. Michael was approaching her, extending his hand towards the phone. “Give it to me Saphie” He stated.

The authority in his tone was absolute. Saphie froze, her defiance wavering. She brought the phone away from her ear, not bearing to make eye-contact. He took the phone and muttered a few quiet words, his voice too low for her to hear. Michael began walking back to his seat in the room. She watched, stunned, as he ended the call and pocketed the phone. *What the-?* “I will need this for the time being,” he stated, his gaze cold, “your brother won’t be able to reach me any other way.”

Saphie stood, gripping her glass so tightly her knuckles turned white. *I can’t believe this. Who does he think he is?* She wanted to scream, to demand answers, but the weight of Michael’s gaze kept her silent. *How can Arnie expect me to stay here, in a stranger’s home?* She looked over at Michael. “You’ll adjust,” he said quietly, almost as if he were reading her thoughts. She swallowed hard. Frustration bubbling to the surface. “I don’t want to adjust,” she glared.

Michael stood again, his eyes fixed on hers. Threatening to approach her once more. She swallowed, his presence overwhelming. “You don’t have a choice,” he said, his voice low, almost gentle, but there was nothing gentle about his words. For a moment, they stood in silence, their eyes locked. Saphie’s breath hitched, but she refused to look away. *This guy.* She narrowed her eyes. *If he thinks he can intimidate me, then he’s wrong.*

Finally, Michael stepped back, his expression unreadable. “Tom will show you to your room,” he said, turning away. “Rest. You’ll need it.” Tom approached her with a kind smile, but Saphie barely noticed. Her mind was spinning, her heart pounding. Michael and Fredo began to engage in conversation, Michael’s eyes still watching her from where he stood.

Saphie felt numb, watching and following as Tom began to lead her away. Her thoughts tangled in fear, confusion, and a small spark of something she couldn’t bring herself to accept. They entered a long hallway on the first floor, and Tom gestured to a wooden door on the right. “In here,” he said, opening the door and switching on the light. The room was nice enough, boasting wealth and comfort, but her mind was too preoccupied to even register her surroundings. She muttered a thanks, and closed the door behind her. Still numb. She felt like she was on auto-pilot. A few moments passed, and she heard the sound of a key locking.

…

The room was stocked with what she needed, as though her arrival was pre-planned. *I don’t understand this* she muttered to herself, eyeing the filled to the brim wardrobe of clothes before her. *If they actually knew I was coming they could’ve at least had something that isn’t from the last century in here.* She sighed. It was creepy enough that everything was in her size, and her attempts to take her mind off of the now very real, very worrying situation she was in were futile. *Taking my phone, taking my freedom. What if something happened and I need to call someone?* She sighed more deeply, *yeah I suppose this is in-fact something happening.*

Rummaging through the drawers, she noticed all of the clothes were either designer or incredibly well-made, or both. *Hell everything was, even the lampshade probably had some real gold or diamond or something*. She found some pyjamas, and headed to the *thank god* en-suite connected to the corner of the room. Unsurprisingly, everything she needed was in the bathroom, and she took her time trying to wash away the nerves of the evening.

Finally approaching the bed, she pulled back the very comfortable covers and almost jumped seeing a book laying underneath. Picking it up and turning the pages, she felt a mixture of emotions bubble up inside her.

*I’m sorry, I’ll be back. Listen to the Corleones. Listen to Michael, he’s what’s best for us now. - A.*

She laughed in shock. *What’s best for us?* She pushed the book to the floor, tears finally releasing and running down her cheeks. *Us?? He’s not the one here scared and alone! How could he?* She curled up in the bed, grabbing the pillows for comfort and turning off the lamp. Breathing slowly, she tried to relax again. But her thoughts were swirling. In the darkness of the unfamiliar room, she couldn’t shake the feeling that her life had shifted in a way she couldn’t control. That she was no longer going to be living the life she knew.

And Michael Corleone was somehow at the center of it.