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melis-writes · 1 year

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Moth to Flame (Part II) [Michael Corleone x Reader Series, 18+ Smut] Chapter 41 – The Calm Before the Storm.

Read on AO3 / Read Chapter 40 / Chapter Masterlist. / Fic Playlist.

18+, explicit smut read.

"Sonny’s excuse is that you let him and it’s disgusting. I don’t know how you deal with it." / “He questioned your actions and integrity, but I did not."

Your return back home to Lake Tahoe isn't marked without grudges, resent and guilt from others that you may have already set aside. What was once seeing as attention seeking, insignificant behavior threatens to create a rift between marriage but the truth is yet to be revealed. You want nothing more than to move on with your life, away from your mother and Fredo's death and any possibility increased tensions from rivalling mafia families but from what you believed was done for everybody's good has already sealed your fate.

[WARNINGS]: Mentions & themes of prostitution / Strip teasing / Heavy fluff / Touching & kissing / Nipple play & teasing.

[AUTHOR'S NOTE]: A new chapter of Moth to Flame is finally here!! 😭❤️ I can't believe it's been about ~2 months since I last updated?! Since I'm focused on fic uploads/writing only at the moment, I'm looking forward to a lot more frequent and back to back updates for you guys. 🥴 Better late than never! Michael and Victoria's story continues, or should I say in this chapter that also means Sonny and Sandra's? 👀 Drama, drama, drama...! It was definitely coming, and now it's going to build into something spiralling completely out of control. We need to focus on baby Vincent and the twins' cuteness above all. 😂😍

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.

[ Lake Tahoe Compound, 7:00 AM ]

From the moment you came to rest your head upon your pillow and snuggle up in your own bed next to your husband at home, every thought, concern, and memory of what occurred in Las Vegas has left not only yours but Michael’s mind as well.

From a well-deserved good night’s sleep in pure relaxation, Michael and you have awoken shortly before seven in the morning to start your day and spend it with the family—taking a break from traveling and business.

“Okay, baby,” you run your hands through your hair gently to smoothen it down, moving towards the shower. “I’m going to wake up the children and get them ready for breakfast.”

Michael pulls back the shower curtain to peek his head out; his soaked hair sticking to his temples and droplets of water dribbling down from his lips and chin. “Alright, darling.”

You blush, leaning over and pecking a kiss over Michael’s wet lips. “I’ll see you downstairs in a minute.”

Just from leaning over towards the hot shower, Michael’s having, you can already feel the warm steam from the running water mixing in with the heavenly scent of Michael’s body surrounding you with that kiss.

Michael prefers to shower first thing in the morning on his days off whereas if he has business to tend to or places to be, he’ll do so at the end of his day like you.

It may be a day off for both of you, but the same doesn’t apply to the twins who have half a day’s worth of tutoring and studying awaiting them.

As you walk out of your bedroom and down the hallway, you step into the nursery room to check on baby Vincent first thing.

As you and Esther have left it, the nursery door remains open so you can both easily hear Vincent’s crying or stirring from his sleep.

Taking a quick look in, you see baby Vincent still curled up in his crib sleeping soundly; bringing a smile to your lips.

Moving a bit further down the hallway, you quietly open the door to Niccolo and Verona’s bedrooms side by side with one another before stepping into each one and gently nudging the children’s shoulders before giving them a kiss on the cheek.

“Niccolo, Verona, good morning. It’s time to wake up, you two!”

“Mmmmm…” Verona squirms in her bed, stretching out her arms. “I’m…awake.”

“Sleepy,” Niccolo groans back from his room, sitting up in his bed. “It’s morning already?”

“It is,” you chuckle, stepping back out into the hallway. “Good morning to both of you.”

“Where’s daddy?” Verona pulls herself out of bed, rubbing her eyes.

“He’s showering right now but will join us for breakfast soon,” you gesture to the two as they put on their slippers. “Come on, honey. Let’s get you two washed up and ready to start the day. I think your little brother is…” You squint your eyes, peeking into the nursery room again. “Still asleep.”

“Vincent is very sleepy,” Verona giggles, skipping to the estate’s second bathroom with her brother.

“I say that too and then the next moment, he’s suddenly awake and staring at us,” you laugh to yourself, following the twins.

“Minty fresh,” Verona picks up her toothbrush with Niccolo, smearing a modest amount of toothpaste over it before handing it to her brother and staying by the sink.

“Mhmm,” you pick up Verona’s hairbrush, standing behind her. “And how would you like your hair styled today, sweetie? Any ideas?”

“I really like the pigtails we did last week, mama,” Verona beams, beginning to brush her teeth. “With the red ribbons!”

“Ooh, of course,” you step back to open one of the bathroom cabinets, taking two silky, red ribbon ties and slipping them over your wrist. “Pigtails for today it is.”

“Mama, are you gonna tell us about your trip?” Niccolo asks curiously, wetting his toothbrush.

“Ya, like—” Verona covers her toothpaste-filled mouth, “if it’s really fun flying on an airplane!”

“I never thought about it that way,” you smile at the two, styling through Verona’s hair. “Honestly, I haven’t really been thinking of the trip. It wasn’t anything for fun, after all, otherwise, we would have taken you too.”

“Yeah,” Niccolo agrees, looking at himself in the mirror as he begins to brush his teeth. “Daddy had work.”

“And I always get sleepy and tired on plane rides, even if where we’re going isn’t too far away,” you admit sheepishly, tying up one ponytail over Verona’s hair.

“Mama gets too cozy,” Verona laughs, “I would too! Las Vegas is close to home, right mama?”

“It is,” you nod back, “so it wasn’t too bad to travel there. Your father and I just wanted to get home as soon as we could.”

“Why, mama?” Verona continues asking.

You pause for a moment, continuing to brush through her hair. “Because it was dull and boring, all for work and business for your daddy. We had to get it done though, but I won’t say I had fun.”

“That’s fair, mama,” Niccolo agrees. “Maybe it’ll be fun if we come.”

“Maybe,” you tie up the second pigtail over Verona’s hair. “You guys want to go on a vacation soon?”

“Soon, yes!” Verona exclaims, moving to rinse out her mouth by the sink.

“We absolutely will,” you take out a tin of hair gel from the cabinet, moving to style and brush through Niccolo’s hair next. “Your daddy and I were thinking of it. I can’t remember the last time we took you guys to Sicily, you know. You were both just little babies.”

“Yes, please!” Verona giggles through rinsing her mouth.

“I wanna go too,” Niccolo chimes in, “Grandma and Grandpa always talk about Sicily.”

“You won’t have to wait too long then,” you plant a kiss over Niccolo’s head before combing through his hair. “Your daddy wants to go just as much as we all do, and maybe you guys can remind him today too, hmm?”

“I will for sure,” Verona turns off the tap, grabbing a face towel. “I wanna go and visit!”

“Me too,” Niccolo slowly moves towards the sink so you can continue styling the gel carefully through his hair while he rinses his mouth out. “We all go with Daddy!”

“He’ll be downstairs in just a minute,” you glance out towards the hallway, “let’s both get you dressed so we can meet Daddy downstairs.”

Turning off the water, Michael pulls back the shower curtain and gives out a deep breath—letting the hot steam of the shower surround him as he squeezes out the excess water from his hair.

Michael rakes a hand through his wet hair, slicking it away from his face before he steps out of the shower and reaches to grab a body towel.

Wrapping the towel around his waist securely, Michael takes a separate towel to ruffle through his hair as he approaches the foggy sink.

Wiping his hand over the mirror to clear it, Michael notices a bit of his stubble is growing through and opens the cabinet behind the bathroom mirror to grab his razor and a tube of shaving cream.

Standing in front of the sink, Michael begins to modestly lather shaving cream over his cheeks and jawline, faintly being able to hear the sound of you and the children heading downstairs for breakfast.

Carefully yet in swift, quick motions, Michael shaves without a single nick or cut over his skin; rinsing off his face before applying a cooling aftershave balm.

Michael continues to press the towel down through his hair thoroughly to soak up as much moisture as he can before he combs through it neatly and reaches for his tin of hair gel.

Barely being able to tell that his hair is still damp, Michael begins to thoroughly apply the gel and slick his hair back from the middle; keeping it neat without a single strand loose and out of place.

Michael then makes his way into the bedroom, drying himself off with his towel before picking out a pair of grey briefs, a white dress shirt you ironed for Michael the other day with a pair of black slacks, a matching waistcoat, white socks, and a tie.

Setting aside his suit jacket, Michael doesn't intend to wear it in the comfort of his own home knowing he won't have business or guests to entertain today—no exceptions regardless of how "urgent" others may consider it to be, but Michael's also never been lazy or sloppy when it comes to his choice of attire no matter the occasion or time.

Spraying cologne over his neck and collarbone, Michael walks out of the bedroom and shuts the door behind him, looking forward to spending the entirety of his day with his family and only his family; perhaps limited in interaction with Sonny for now as Michael's internal annoyance and irritation still cool.

Michael especially wishes to spend the vast majority of his time with you and the children more than anything else; missing his children but also knowing he didn't get to spend much quality time with you in Las Vegas either, aside from last-minute lovemaking in the evening.

Michael first approaches Vincent's nursery before heading downstairs, seeing the crib is empty but the sounds of his baby son babbling downstairs from the kitchen.

The scent of Michael's cologne comes down before you even sense your husband's presence or see him; in the kitchen with baby Vincent sitting in his baby seat close to you and by the dining table with his older siblings.

Verona and Niccolo sit across from each other and surround Vincent, smiling and distracting their little baby brother with a handful of toys as you get to preparing breakfast.

"He's so tiny," Verona giggles to herself, handing Vincent a toy he dropped. "Teeny tiny!"

Vincent smiles up at his siblings aimlessly, very receptive to laughter and positive voices surrounding him.

"He is a tiny little guy, isn't he?" You chuckle, dressed in a burgundy shirtwaist dress with a pair of house flats on; standing by the stove and preparing breakfast.

While you've just picked up on Michael's cologne signaling he's nearby, Michael's taken in the scent of breakfast being cooked while coming down to the kitchen.

In a pan, you sautee together chopped pieces of bacon, Italian sausage crumble, grated mozzarella and cheddar, green pepper, mushrooms, and small broccoli florets.

You reach into the egg carton next to you on the counter, setting three eggs aside.

Michael leans against the doorway, taking in the delicious scent of the meat and vegetables being sauteed and feeling the warm spring breeze coming from the back door flow into the kitchen.

Distracted, you crack three eggs into the frittata you're making, disposing of the eggshells in the little trashcan next to you and giving your hands a quick rinse in the sink.

Michael gazes at you with intrigue, watching you quickly your wrist moves to whisk in the eggs quickly into the frittata and reach for a carton of cream from the refrigerator.

Michael's eyes admire the way your hips move, how your dress adorns your body, and every inch of you in nothing but pure adoration.

Already having noticed their father from afar standing by quietly, the twins giggle amongst each other in reaction; very clearly aware as to how their father is lovingly appreciating their mother behind her back.

"Good morning," you hear Michael's velvety voice call out from behind; causing your heart to race just like that.

"Good morning, Daddy!" The twins chime in together.

"Aaa," Vincent shakes his rattling toy aimlessly, unsure why the sudden upbeat enthusiasm is coming from his siblings but just happy to join in on it.

"Good morning, darling," you turn around blushing, seeing a small smile over Michael's lips.

"Aaa!" Vincent raises his voice in excitement, waving around his toy.

"I think he says good morning too, Daddy," Niccolo laughs.

"I believe so," Michael walks into the kitchen, leaning down to scoop up three-month-old Vincent in his arms. "Hello, little man. He's awake early."

"He is," you agree, carefully putting the pan into the preheated oven. "He's being so good this morning despite waking so early, though. Not a fuss made, just babbling little conversations to himself and his siblings."

"He likes to talk," Verona points out, waving at her baby brother in Michael's arms.

Vincent aimlessly stares at Michael, sticking out his little tongue before bumping his head against Michael's temple lightly. "Aa...."

"But how old will Vincent be when he can talk to us, Daddy?" Niccolo asks, sitting upright.

"Almost two years old, I'd say," Michael replies, rubbing Vincent's back in lazy circles gently.

"What?!" Verona gasps.

"Two years?!" Niccolo lets out a deep sigh, "That's gonna take forever!"

"Well, what did you think, honey?" You let out a laugh, setting out jars of homemade grape, strawberry, and raspberry jam from the cabinet.

"Sooner?" Niccolo shrugs his shoulders sheepishly, "Maybe it takes one year!"

"Far too soon," Michael shakes his head as you take out three little bowls to put equal varieties of jam in. "Even the two of you weren't talking in a year. Just a few words here and there."

"Really?" Verona's eyes widen with intrigue.

"Really," you smile back at her, "and you both will get to see Vincent grow up right in front of your eyes so you'll understand."

Niccolo looks up to see baby Vincent clutching his tiny grip over the fabric of Michael's waistcoat, distracted by the texture against his skin.

You set out the selections of jam over the dining table, moving back to the stove. "If it's one thing you all share like your baby brother, it's that none of you could stop grabbing and touching daddy's tie or clothes."

"But Daddy wears Italian silk suits, right?" Verona speaks up.

"That I do," Michael answers, walking towards the back door with Vincent to get some fresh air; amused by Vincent's distraction towards his waistcoat.

"So it's very soft!" Verona exclaims.

"Oh, ya," Niccolo adds, "and very fancy."

"Very," you laugh with them, "Vincent is the master of fancy fabrics."

“He knows he likes his suits,” Michael cracks a rare joke, carefully stepping out into the courtyard as Vincent excitedly rattles his toy in his free hand.

You move the mixing bowl containing ricotta pancake batter over to the stove, adding a small amount to the hot pan and watching it spread into shape. “Almost ready for breakfast!”

“Can I help, mama?” Verona hops off her seat.

“Sure, darling,” you gesture to one of the kitchen cupboards. “We have some biscotti in there. Could you please take some out and set them out on the plate here? We can have some with jam this morning.”

“Okay!” Verona nods, doing as she’s told. “Tasty jam. I help Mama.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” you smile down at her, glancing up momentarily to see Michael slowly pacing around the courtyard with Vincent in his arms.

Vincent snuggles onto his father’s shoulder, chewing on his rattle toy while peeking around the sight of nature around him.

“We’re almost done here…” Distracted, you flip the pancake over carefully and keep the sizes of the others at a consistent size and thickness.

You glance at the other pan of food still steaming hot on the other side of the stove—Italian sausage and eggs—taking note of everything to get ready.

“Smells so good, mama,” Niccolo looks over to the stove giddily, eyeing the homemade marinara sauce smothered amid the Italian sausage and poached eggs. “My favorite!”

“A favorite of daddy’s too,” you add, beginning to set the silverware and plates out on the dining table.

Niccolo gets up from his seat, helping his sister reach into the cupboard and taking as many cups as he can with him towards the dining table to help out.

“Perfect, thank you two,” you rub Niccolo and Verona’s shoulders—looking towards the backdoor. “I’ll get Daddy and Vincent in otherwise they’ll be out there forever.”

The twins giggle amongst each other as you step out into the courtyard, taking in a breath of the fresh spring air to see your husband walking around the center of the backyard and kissing Vincent’s cheek.

“Hi, baby,” unable to wipe the growing smile off of your face, you approach both of them.

“Hello, darling,” Michael turns around to face you as you lean up, pecking a sweet kiss over your husband’s lips.

Michael kisses back, gazing at you. “Is breakfast ready?”

“Mhmm, it is,” you gently squish Vincent’s chubby cheek, gesturing for them to follow inside. “Everything’s ready and we’re waiting for you two to come join us! I wonder if this little man is hungry.”

“I think so, considering how he’s been chewing on every toy I give him,” Michael chuckles quietly, taking your hand with his free one before following you back inside the estate.

Sitting by herself in her family estate across a small distance from yours, Sandra rests her cheek upon her fist and gives out a glum sigh to herself. The day has practically just started; just the morning after you, Michael, and Sonny’s arrival back home from Las Vegas.

Naturally, Sandra understands how exhausted her husband may be from travel. Sonny’s always felt worn out one way or another with long road trips and plane rides, regardless of how far or close his destination is.

Jet lag has never done any good for Sonny who prefers to rest it off by sleeping in much more than he may normally do when given the chance instead of taking naps throughout the day, and a shot or two of whiskey here and there never hurt to keep his mind sharp throughout it.

No different than any other time, Sonny slumped into bed last night tired and with a pounding headache. The only thing he did before falling asleep just a moment after taking a shot of whiskey and mumbling, “I’m exhausted,” to Sandra.

When it comes to Sonny, Sandra’s more than aware that’s her husband’s normal behavior hence why she didn’t question it.

Come to think of it with Sandra’s mind on nothing else but what a lonely morning she woke up to, she’s come to realize Sonny was rather dismissive and even a little cold towards her.

Still, knowing how much of a grumpy, sarcastic mood Sonny can get in when he’s tired and hungry, Sandra lets it be as it is.

She neither minds waking up alone nor having Sonny sleep in especially after travel, but having the children go off to the governess first thing in the morning and have breakfast by herself after being alone for a few days, the loneliness and lack of companionship hits Sandra hard.

It was after Sandra finished breakfast and began cleaning up that Sonny woke up abruptly and couldn’t fall back asleep.

Instead of letting Sandra know or greeting his wife, Sonny took a hot shower which Sandra overheard then fixed himself a drink of gin and tonic for breakfast which came off as somewhat odd to Sandra.

Sandra’s already guessing something is up with Sonny since it seems as if he’s practically avoiding her but she can’t make any sense of it.

Rising from her seat on the couch, Sandra frowns and looks around the quiet, empty house—wishing she could at least spend some time with Sonny and ask him how his trip went. After all, Sandra knows everyone else is spending time with their families and enjoying breakfast together right now except her.

Feeling left out and alone, suspicion slowly begins to grow over Sandra who begins to approach Sonny’s study, knowing he’s in there from the ruffling sound of newspapers and Sonny setting down his drink.

From the ajar door, Sandra sees her husband sitting over a leather armchair with his ankle crossed over and resting on his leg—reading through a newspaper.

“Sonny?” Sandra places her hand over the door, peeking in with concern over her expression.

Sonny purposefully takes a few extra seconds to react, looking up at Sandra with boredom and slight irritation. “Huh? Yeah, what is it?”

“Nothing, I just wanted to check up on you,” Sandra replies, frowning. “You missed breakfast.”

“Yeah, I know,” Sonny grunts, stretching out his arms. “I was tired.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Nah, I had something to eat already,” Sonny says, returning his attention back to the newspaper in his hands.

Sandra remains quiet, standing by the door for a moment; she knows Sonny has nothing else to say to her nor does he even want to carry a conversation with Sandra right now, but she can’t understand why Sonny’s acting the way he is now.

“What?” Sonny asks after a moment, growing more tense.

“Nothing,” Sandra murmurs, turning around and shutting the office door behind her.

Heading into the foyer, Sandra puts her Mary-Janes on and exits the estate. She makes her way to what used to be Fredo and Deanna’s shared estate, now belonging to Connie and Leo.

Knowing the only one she can confide in over her brother’s behavior that isn’t spending time with family or is occupied this morning is Connie, Sandra hopes to herself that her sister-in-law can ease her overthinking and offer some advice.

If it’s anyone who knows Sonny and his antics well and on a much different level than a brother would, it’s Sonny’s own sister—Connie. Besides, Sandra doesn’t at all feel up to bothering anyone else like you or Theresa whose shy, reserved, and put off by Sonny’s behavior to begin with.

Deanna on the other hand is in Hollywood shooting a film with Johnny Fontane, but her relationship with Sonny is just as limited as Theresa’s.

‘Then again..’ Sandra glances over in the direction of your estate. ‘There’s Victoria.’

Immediately, Sandra’s mind goes back to the events of what occurred in New York whether she wants to remember it or not; seeing Sonny with blood gushing out of his nose, swelling, and puffiness reaching his eyes all bleeding and bruised when Michael confronted him about why he made a move on you.

Like the others, Sandra was also under the impression Sonny went to New York to check on you and the twins. Everyone assumed Sonny would also bring news to Tom or Michael, but only those two and Sonny knew what was really going on and why you left for New York in the first place.

Sonny never told Sandra why you were in New York to begin with as everyone knew how personal the reason was and would prefer to forget it all entirely.

While Sandra doesn’t know the whole story of the whys and hows of New York, she does know that Michael refused to speak with Sonny for an entire month let alone have him remotely near you because Sonny kissed you and attempted to seduce you in New York.

Sandra unfortunately knows she’ll never not be jealous when thinking of everything that happened, but it’s toned down over time and her emotions don’t get as strong over remembering it either.

Sandra also knows you didn’t kiss Sonny back or pull a move on him. She figures as she’s heard from you and your reaction that you must’ve been nothing but shocked and disgusted; Sonny’s your brother-in-law after all and you would never do that to Sandra, let alone ever to Michael.

At that point, time was the only remedy for everything that had happened. You felt somewhat alienated from Sonny as a result for a little while and Sandra witnessed that herself.

Still, despite apologizing to you and hearing your side of the story, Sandra can never truly live down her guilt and shame of how she embarrassed herself by talking down to you at your mother’s funeral.

Sandra swallows her remaining, stinging jealousy down but not her pride. She doesn’t want to talk to you at all regarding Sonny; it’ll do nothing but rouse her imagination the wrong way about her husband.

Instead, Sandra continues to go up to Sandra’s estate with the hopes that her sister-in-law can offer her advice and lift her spirits or at the very least that Connie can tell her anything she knows about the trip to Las Vegas.

Of course, Sandra plans to speak with you later in the afternoon and hear more about how you are and how the trip went, but Sandra’s concern right now doesn’t have anything to do with the actual traveling or Las Vegas; Sandra’s only concern is Santino.

It’s not unusual for the gateways, doors, and balconies of individual estates on the Lake Tahoe compound to be left open during the day although high security is guaranteed twenty-four hours a day throughout the entire week.

It only signifies that your family isn’t busy, away from the compound, or seeking privacy, and is welcome to anyone popping by, hence why Connie’s estate door is left wide open this morning.

Sandra also knows Leo is currently away in New York at the moment, traveling back and forth from the state to Nevada with and for Connie when time and business permits.

From the moment Sandra enters Connie’s estate, Connie and Mama Corleone in the kitchen already pick up on the sound of someone’s kitten heels clacking against the mahogany floorboards and she guesses it’s either Sandra or Theresa purely based on shoe choice.

In the kitchen, Connie prepares a pot of black tea, chatting away with Carmela about her next planned trip to New York with Leonardo just as Sandra enters the kitchen—smiling sheepishly and hugging her own arms.

“Hi, honey,” Mama Corleone’s eyes light up at the sight of Sandra.

“Hey, Sandra,” Connie greets, turning to face her sister-in-law. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” Sandra says back, glancing around the kitchen uneasily. “Done breakfast so soon?”

“Oh, we just finished up a few moments ago. Did you?” Mama Corleone peeks at her.

“Mm,” Sandra nods, “I had a short one. I just sent off the kids to their studies and that’s that,” she lets out a soft sigh, realizing that if she remains here and talks like this that it invites Mama Corleone to stay and listen too.

Naturally, Sandra has no issue with Mama Corleone consoling her or giving her advice but at this point, Sandra’s far too embarrassed to talk to her mother-in-law about Sonny again and again.

“Actually, um, I was wondering if I could talk to you, Connie?”

“Of course,” Connie agrees, exchanging a glance with Mama Corleone.

“I’ll see you girls at lunch then,” completely understanding, Carmela smiles at her girls before she begins to make her way out of the kitchen. “Take care!”

“Bye mama,” Sandra calls back out before facing Connie once more and seeing the concern growing over her sister-in-law’s face.

“There’s that look in your eyes again,” Connie points out, taking out another tea cup. “Let me get you something to drink first, honey. Go on, have a seat. I already know.”

“Thank you,” Sandra murmurs, closing the kitchen door behind her before taking a seat at the dining table.

Connie pours two cups of steaming, black tea and takes a tiny bowl holding sugar cubes and small stirring spoons over to the dining table, sitting across from her sister-in-law. “I could tell just by the way you walked in here that something had to be wrong.”

“I wish I could prove you wrong,” Sandra says glumly, “never been the greatest at hiding my annoyances, have I? Thank you,” Sandra pulls her teacup over the table to herself with two sugar cubes.

“You and me both,” Connie chuckles, letting out a deep breath. “What is it? What’s troubling you? Go on, I want all the details.”

“I didn’t wanna make it a big deal because I don’t know what’s going on,” Sandra begins, staring at her tea.

“You always say that,” Connie points out, raising her brows.

“I know,” Sandra whines quietly. “But it’s Sonny.”

“What about him? Or do I even need to ask?” Connie rolls her eyes, “what’s he gone off to do this time?”

Sandra blinks, unable to come up with an immediate response. “It’s his trip. Sonny came back from Vegas with Michael and Victoria…”

“Mhmm,” Connie nods, listening.

“He was exhausted when he got home, so he wanted to go to bed right away which is fine—” Sandra shakes her head, “he had a drink before, didn’t talk to me or the children whatsoever, and just went straight to bed.”

“Huh,” Connie notes, “exhausted, then?”

“Yeah, he was,” Sandra answers.

“I didn’t see him as ‘exhausted’,” Connie stares back at her. “That’s a bit of an overstatement now isn’t it?”

“You saw him last night?” Sandra raises a brow, knowing all Sonny did was barge right into the estate the minute he grabbed his luggage from the car and wasted no time in doing so.

“Yeah, Sonny barged in here all annoyed and asking for whiskey. I’d say he was more grouchy than ‘exhausted’. He definitely had more than enough energy to march in here like that.”

“That’s not what I saw or heard,” anxiety begins to spike up in Sandra. “I mean… Sonny told me he was tired and going to bed—I didn’t get another word out of him after that. He finished his drink and went to sleep—whatever. Slept in for two more hours this morning and it’s like he missed breakfast on purpose because I swear to you, just as I finished cleaning up and sent off the kids to the governess, he awoke. Sonny didn’t say a word to me, didn’t come in to eat anything. He just made himself a gin and tonic—I don’t get it. He’s being so cold to me, this isn’t normal. He’s completely disinterested in anything I have to say. It’s like every time I try to approach him, I annoy him.”

Connie takes a sip of her tea, pursing her lips. “Victoria didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what, Connie?” The tip of Sandra’s ears and the nape of her neck prickle hot with brimming anxiety. “I haven’t spoken to her since before she left. I thought I would after lunch today.”

“I saw Victoria briefly before she went in last night,” Connie tells her, “just made some small talk—asked her how the trip went and if she needed anything because if anyone was exhausted, it was her. I may as well tell you,” Connie shrugs her shoulders, “though I’m not sure if it’ll surprise you or be something you haven’t heard before.”

“Why?” Sandra’s throat tightens as she mixes her sugar cubes inside her tea.

“I mean, they went to Las Vegas, Sandra,” Connie licks over her lips, “Sonny wasn’t exactly there for ‘business’.”

“I see,” Sandra mumbles to herself, looking far more distraught than Connie expects.

“Okay, you let him off the hook too much, honey,” Connie sighs, shaking her head. “He just goes left, right, and center and he’s been doing that since we were teenagers. Sonny’s excuse is that you let him and it’s disgusting. I don’t know how you deal with it.”

“I never really let him do ‘anything’,” Sandra rakes a hand through her hair, letting out a shaky sigh. “Sonny can barely control himself. It’s how he is, how he always was. You know our marriage didn’t change him and neither did having kids. His dick has a mind of its own.”

“Yeugh,” Connie fake gags, brushing off the comment. “I know, trust me.”

“But what does Victoria have to do with this?” Sandra holds back the growing emotion in the back of her throat.

“It’s not that, Sandra, relax,” Connie lets out a soft laugh, “relax! She’s just as mad as you, honestly. Victoria was scolding Sonny the whole trip. She won’t talk to him, she said. He must have pissed her off real good this time.”

“Because he couldn’t keep his hands to himself?” Sandra suggests.

“When it comes to Rita Duvall, definitely,” Connie rolls her eyes with a scoff.

“Rita,” Sandra repeats. “Rita? Are you serious?”

“Mhmm,” Connie appears somewhat amused towards Sandra’s irritated reaction upon the mention of Rita Duvall’s name. “Now that’s two negative reactions whenever that woman’s name is mentioned. I guess you know a bit about our favorite dancer and mistress extraordinaire outside Victoria’s personal grudge towards her?”

“Do I?” Sandra scowls, “I’ve had my fair share of tugging Sonny’s ear about that whore.”

“Yeah?”

Sandra takes in a deep breath, only growing much more irate. “She’s a good-for-nothing whore. Everything she does is for attention and on purpose. She and Sonny—they… The fucking chemistry they have—” Sandra’s eyes begin to tear up as her voice shakes. “How could I not fucking hate her? I can’t stand her or her whorish antics, tricks, and shows—whatever the hell she does. She’s nothing but eye candy, a pleaser and Sonny loves it. She’s exactly what he wants, you know?”

“Sandra—”

“Sonny won’t fuck an honest woman the way he loves to fuck his whores,” Sandra’s eyes pool with tears, “She’d look me in the eye and do my husband if she could, but that’s not exclusive, right? It’s not that hard to have Sonny head over heels for you, it’s just impossible for me and I’m his wife. It wasn’t impossible for Victoria.”

“Hey,” Connie interrupts sharply, placing her hands over the top of Sandra’s. “Honey, it’s okay. It’s alright. No, I get what you mean completely but Victoria doesn’t have Sonny wrapped around her finger. Don’t say that.”

“H-how am I supposed to know?” Sandra breaks down in tears, weeping. “Everyone can have my husband but me! So I don’t have a choice, Connie. I have to suspect everyone and I hate her. I hate Rita and I hate anyone like her!”

[ 6 Months Earlier: Las Vegas, Nevada ]

“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time to welcome the night of your life where filthy sin and heavenly lust collide; where lines of love and arousal blur to please you! This is a night to remember and accept splendor and entertainment with the one and only, Miss Rita Duvall!”

The glistening silver curtains encrusted in crystals flutter about over the stage, reflecting over the polished, white marble stage to reveal Rita behind—slowly spinning in a life-size bird cage made of solid gold, decorated in the same dazzling crystals and diamonds.

Wearing silk, red gloves with diamonds adorning her fingers, Rita’s strawberry blonde hair is curled over her shoulders—bringing attention to the sparkling ruby necklace upon her collarbone, the smokey makeup over her eyes, and cherry red lipstick matching the fiery, scarlet shade of red she wears in a sleeveless bodysuit decorated with the same precious gems and rubies.

Much like a Vegas showgirl’s classic bodysuit, Rita stands out as the star of the show with a mock peacock tail affixed to the back of her costume; real feathers dipped in crimson dye with matching six-inch stilettos over her feet.

Background dancers dressed similarly to Rita but without distracting away from having her become the center of attention and swirl about the stage, dancing, and grouping together to slide and push the birdcage towards the middle of the stage.

Gasps from the crowd mesmerized in awe come from around the room, erupting in cheer and applause which Sonny joins; seated in the second row at the very front of the stage with Michael and Leonardo.

Close enough to practically smell Rita’s perfume, Sonny’s eyes are fixated on her as Rita blows out kisses to the crowd, swaying her hips over the cushioned seat inside the life-size birdcage.

Michael ignores anything and everything to do with the show entirely, effectively blocking it out while focusing on his dinner and keeping an eye on the time to anticipate when all of this nonsense will be over and his business partner will come to meet him.

Amongst all of their family, colleagues, and business partners, Michael and Leonardo remain to be the odd ones out with no interest in erotic shows, brothels, or mistresses for their own reasons; Michael’s being quite self-explanatory knowing him.

Leonardo on the other hand has always been indifferent to it; it’s not so much that he minds such entertainment and opportunities, but he chooses to have nothing to do with them.

In the middle of a show like this where it’s hard to ignore what’s going on—let alone the performers themselves—Leonardo can appreciate that it’s a form of entertainment enjoyed by many, and that’s all he’ll take it as without making it personal.

While Michael can hide his dislike and annoyance for anything without effort, Leonardo can’t hold back from having his expression show exactly how he feels. Since Leonardo initiated a relationship with Connie—now his fiancé—he feels all the more disinterested and uncomfortable.

Performers, dancers, prostitutes, and showgirls like Rita and Rita herself are a hot commodity amongst rich businessmen, politicians, and influential men seeking entertainment and companionship so there’s never a gap in bookings and demand.

‘It’s not her entertainment skills or whoring that’s her “talent” either. She’s ‘talented’, alright, but in ways you wouldn’t imagine.’

Aroused by how little he’s seen already, Sonny eyes Rita’s plump thighs—admiring how the color red matches her vigor and passion on stage.

Rita grinds her hips, dancing sensually around the bars of the birdcage slowly to show off every inch of her body.

‘There’s a million Rita Duvalls. Give any cocktail waitress or Vegas showgirl a big enough gig and she’ll do what she does best, but Rita wants more. Nothing is ever enough for her.’

Sonny whistles under his breath, momentarily capturing Michael’s attention who looks up at the stage for only a split second to see Rita look in their direction and lick up one of the bars.

Unphased, Michael immediately looks away once more with zero intention of even glancing up for a moment to the stage again whereas Sonny can hardly hold back his throbbing erection.

‘I don’t know if she has issues of her own or if she’s a narcissist who gets high off all the attention, but Rita wouldn’t look anyone in the eye who can’t give her what she wants. She can only entertain for so long until she catches the eye of somebody who finds her the most irresistible of the night.’

Michael is no stranger to such forms of entertainment. Half the time Michael travels for business or is meeting with his business partners at any time, some sort of similar entertainment is almost always provided.

Usually, however, the nature of the entertainment isn’t solely erotic or anything like this, let alone with a face Michael recognizes.

Michael’s aware tonight’s show harbors on pure erotica, but later on in the evening, he’s also bound to discover it’s a sex show later on.

Sonny wouldn’t miss this level of entertainment for the world, always preferring to mix pleasure with business and never considering himself as dull as his younger brother.

Michael can and will purposefully miss any shows of obscenity and promiscuity. Nothing gets to him not just because Michael’s interest in such entertainment is low, but rather that it’s nonexistent.

Michael’s business colleagues would die in the face of boredom if they did business the way Michael did; long meetings face-to-face in silence for hours with nothing but relevant talk.

‘Rita has the first pick of the best venues. Rita won’t perform somewhere she knows money won’t roll in. Businessmen, investors, politicians—think of the wealthiest, most influential men. That’s why she’s there.’

Pleasure in business is seen as a casual thing by most mafiosi; some even talk business at brothels rather than anywhere else.

None of it particularly bothers Michael to a personal extent, but he can certainly count on his fingers how many mafiosi he knows that don’t indulge in such entertainment: himself, Vito—his father—and Leonardo, his brother-in-law.

‘Rita knows her audience. Married, usually middle-aged men with a wife and kids at home… Talking about what an honest woman can’t give him.’

Rita is all flair and style—what she’s known for better than anyone else in Las Vegas. Using all of her stage props and background effects to dance and sing at the same time, she puts on a show to remember for tonight.

Interacting with the crowd is just another act Rita intends on doing tonight, something that immediately spiked your dislike for her when Rita first tried it with Michael at a family event with children present; despite being an adult performer, Rita knew what she signed up for and willingly crossed those boundaries after all.

‘She’s far from being honest and she knows it. She uses these men for arm candy, influence, reputation, and above all—sex and money. They make for the best kind of blackmail. She’s made that obvious enough.’

Rita doesn’t have any boundaries and she doesn’t feel the need to either. Rita offers what she does and has a “take it or leave it policy”, asking if everyone else loves it, why don’t you?

Michael checks the time on his watch again as Rita parts away from the birdcage and begins to dance to the tune of a sultry, slow sogn upon the stage; making sure the feathers on her bodysuit bounce and shake with every move.

It’s then and there that Michael notices just how absolutely fixated Sonny is on Rita, mindlessly staring at her.

Michael doesn’t need to look up to Rita to see why, but his brother’s blatant arousal and unprofessionalism are beginning to irritate Michael; all Sonny’s been doing the entirety of the trip is paying attention to nothing but women. “Let me know when you decide to attend business for business one of these days.”

“Relax, Mikey,” Sonny chuckles, looking away from Rita for the first time since the show started. “I’m enjoying the show, she’s performing, I don’t wanna let it go to waste. I don’t get you two.”

Leonardo looks up from his plate, biting into a piece of steak. “Why’s that?”

“Well, never mind, I guess,” Sonny grins, “I’m not saying anything towards you. You’re engaged to my sister.”

‘She’s no performer, dancer, entertainer, or whatever the fuck she calls herself. We all know what she is. I wasn’t born yesterday. Rita’s a blackmailing whore.’

Eyeing Sonny from the table as she performs, Sonny’s lustful and interested gaze on her hasn’t gone unnoticed with all that admiring.

It helps all the more that Sonny’s seated so close to the stage and with Michael Corleone whom Rita knows is impossible to get a shred of attention or interest from but Rita’s satisfied with luring in one Corleone brother before she aspires to go back to back with another.

The only positive purpose doing business in such venues, clubs, and brothels serves most mafiosi besides personal pleasure is the fact that if there’s unwanted or hostile presence of police and FBI not on a mafioso’s payroll, it’s much easier to be able to appear as a couple of businessmen chatting and having drinks while enjoying a show than appearing suspicious.

None can hear nor suspect any illicit business is being discussed or ongoing from music, singing, and distractions after all.

Michael still refuses to pay any attention to Rita’s show during her second act even when his business partners arrive; consisting of her emerging from an amethyst and diamond-studded, lifesize clam large enough to comfortably fit three people in.

Completely and utterly in awe as if he’s in a trance, Sonny and the rest of the invited businessmen are thoroughly entertained and their enjoyment and need for entertainment is just a necessary, lesser evil Michael comes to accept.

If such needs to occur for business to come along smoothly without issue, then Michael has no issues with it although he finds it all negatively distracting.

Slow jazz music builds up to its climax as Rita fully emerges from the clamshell, causing business discussions at the table to be briefly interrupted as a result.

Leonardo and Michael look over to see Rita no longer dressed in her peacock-inspired bodysuit but only in a pair of bra and panties made from a lightweight chain and decorated in pearls and diamonds.

Rita extends out her arms to the tune of the jazz music, throwing her hair back and stepping out the clam barefoot.

Just as Michael’s about to divert his gaze once more and remind his business partners what the task at hand is, Rita places her hand over her bra and pulls it off with ease—causing the pearls and diamonds to spring loose and around her on the stage.

‘She’ll curl up in the arms of any rich, powerful man who can give her a night to remember, spoil her and pay for the new diamonds you see on her ears.’

More hoots, whistling and cheers can be heard from the crowd and from Sonny himself as Rita remains completely topless; her breasts springing free as she pulls the matching panties down her legs—bending over.

“Goddamn,” Sonny chuckles to himself, taking in the view.

Michael sighs quietly to himself, understanding this is now a full-on sex show rather than the other forms of performances and entertainment he’s had the misery of having to attend yet he isn’t surprised.

‘When she doesn’t want to let go of her arm candy, she’ll just resort to blackmail. Easy to do to politicians who can’t keep their eyes or hands to themselves, to begin with. It’ll give her the big payday she’s looking for and everyone moves on. She craves it just as much she craves the attention.’

Michael lights another cigarette, figuring whenever Rita’s done with her jaw-dropping antics, everyone can get back to business even if that means it looks like Michael will have to wait longer.

Rita’s third and final act of the night consists of the curtains drawing back once more to reveal her sitting naked inside a massive, human-sized cocktail glass that matches the gems of the clam from her second act.

Rita lets the pink-colored water inside the cocktail glass soak over her skin as Rita rests her arms on the rim of the cocktail glass.

Rita then raises up her thigh, letting the pink water drip off as she begins to massage and caress the liquid over her body.

‘She’ll never have to worry about blackmailing Sonny… If she was to, that would mean he’d want to stay away from her for good, right? Right?’

[ Present Day, Lake Tahoe Compound ]

Connie frowns, clasping a hand over her mouth as she stares at Sandra.

“Say something, please,” Sandra croaks—her throat tightening.

“Sandra, I’m so, so sorry—Sandra! Sandra!” Connie gasps as Sandra bolts from the dining table, almost spilling her tea.

“SONNY! SONNY!” Sandra shrieks, storming out of Connie and Leo’s estate.

“Sandra, wait! Oh my God!” Connie jumps up from her seat, rushing after her sister-in-law. “Sandra, no!”

All Connie can think of is that while Sandra’s emotions, reactions, and outbursts are completely normal and to be expected, she’s guaranteed Vito and Carmela’s involvement in this now by shouting it for everyone to hear on the compound.

Back in your estate shortly after finishing up breakfast with your family, you hold baby Vincent in your arms—indulging in conversation with the nanny, Esther as the twins begin their morning lessons with the governess.

“Oh, it’s definitely been a while,” you chuckle. “My family visits Sicily regularly, but that’s a given for all the business they do. I think I had more than enough opportunity after we moved to New York, but my studies and work always got in the way.”

“Would that mean you haven’t been there for five years now? Oh my,” Esther’s eyes widen.

“Mhmm,” you admit sheepishly, kissing Vincent’s cheek. “Not since the twins were just little babies. Funny enough we’ve been to Rome, Venice, and Florence since but not back to the homeland since. That’ll change very soon.”

“Looking forward to a good trip for you and the family then, Mrs. Corleone,” Esther beams, “all that time gone by still surprises me. The twins were so tiny, just like this little guy!”

Before she can say anymore, Esther glances over her shoulder to see Michael stepping out of the estate to approach you; the morning sun glistening over his skin as he keeps both hands in his pockets.

Understanding the need for privacy, Esther gives both of you a polite smile and a small nod before entering back into the estate to leave you two alone.

“Hello, darling,” Michael greets you by wrapping an arm around your waist.

“Hi, baby,” you blush, “I’m thinking we could spend the rest of our morning out on the yacht together maybe with a cold drink and—”

“SANTINO! SANTINO!” You’re interrupted by the alarming sound of Sandra shrieking around the compound.

Michael and you exchange a concerned look with one another before rushing out to the front of the estate where Sandra’s continuous scream-sobbing is coming from.

Sonny’s the first to his wife wailing, throwing down his newspaper and springing out of his seat from surprise.

“Sandra?!” You call out as Michael keeps a protective arm around you. “Oh—Connie!” You spot your sister-in-law running over, distraught and confused. “Connie! What’s going on—”

Connie stops in her tracks to see Sandra rush out from behind her estate to inside, only gone for a split second before the three of you watch her screaming insults and curse words in a mix of English and Italian before shoving Sonny outside.

“Fucking stop! Stop it, alright?!” Sonny grunts, stumbling out of the estate. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

“GET OUT, GET OUT!” Sandra screams, pointing away from the compound. “GET THE FUCK OUT!”

“Lower your fucking voice!” Sonny shouts over top over her, brushing off his wrinkled tank top. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?! Huh?!”

Before you can say anything, Michael—who remains completely calm next to you—raises his free hand up to silence you, giving you a reassuring look but also signaling he won’t give involved in the middle of this and doesn’t want you to either.

Sobbing and practically shaking, Sandra opens her mouth again to cry out but is immediately silenced by Sonny. “What the fuck are you yelling for, woman?! What’s wrong with you?!”

“What’s going on?” Michael interrupts, speaking up.

The three of you including Connie begin to slowly approach as you also notice Tom and Theresa slowly doing so from their estate after hearing everything.

With security and guards on alert, Al Neri and Rocco slowly begin to make their way over whereas Esther rushes into the central family compound to ensure the children don’t hear or step out, but it’s only going to be a matter of time until Vito and Carmela do.

Vincent stares around aimlessly, confused by all the yelling and overlapping loud voices around him but seemingly disinterested and unaffected by it as he plays with a few strands of your hair.

“Even if your father’s life depended on it, you wouldn’t be able to stop fucking whoring!” Sandra shrieks, “every time you go ‘on business’ all you do is whore around! That’s all you’ve been doing for years, isn’t it?! Go ahead, tell everyone, Sonny! And remind Michael and Victoria too!”

Connie remains silent, biting her lip. All of this hits too close to home, reminding her of how many times she was in Sandra’s place herself when she was still married to Carlo.

Connie didn’t want anyone silencing what she had to say to Carlo then, so she refuses to attempt to silence Sandra now.

“You—” Sonny begins, but Sandra cuts him off.

“Don’t you want everyone to know what you did in Las Vegas?! Go ahead and tell the children while we’re at it!”

“Sandra,” Michael speaks calmly, shaking his head.

“It’s true, isn’t it?” Sandra hiccups, facing Michael as Sonny sighs loudly. “It's true when we first got married—” Sandra points an accusing finger at Sonny. “And true before! But Michael, you’re not going to lie to me, are you? What did Sonny do in Vegas? I want you to tell me.”

“My brother is an adult capable of making his own decisions and thinking for himself,” Michael replies, “I’m not his babysitter. We had business in Las Vegas, yes, but what Sonny did before, during, and after is not my concern nor do I or Victoria witness it.”

“Thank you!” Sonny scoffs, beginning to turn away before Sandra yanks on his arm and pulls him back.

“I don’t fucking think so!” Sandra scowls. “I’ll decide that and you’re NOT going to walk away from me, Santino! You can barely control yourself as is and I’ve had ENOUGH!”

“YOU HEARD HIM!” Sonny yells back, pointing at Michael.

“Sonny, don’t yell!” Connie frowns, growing uneasy.

Sonny’s eyes soften momentarily as he looks over at his sister. “I was only there for business.”

“Victoria,” Sandra narrows her eyes at you. “What did you see? Tell me.”

You snuggle Vincent to your chest, sighing softly. “Sandra, this isn’t—”

“Oh no, no.” Sandra glares at you, “you’re not going to tell me how to react, right? If your husband was known to whore around for years, would you really remain quiet? That passive?”

“Stop,” you stare back at her, unamused. “That’s not what this is.”

“THEN TELL ME WHAT IT IS!” Sandra screams, causing Connie to flinch.

“Lower your voice when you speak to Victoria,” Michael warns, hearing the faint footsteps of Vito and Carmela beginning to step out from the central family compound.

“Tell me, tell me! TELL ME!” Sandra sobs, hiccupping.

Sonny shakes his head, locking eyes with you; his expression still somewhat hurt from your last encounter with him in Las Vegas.

“All of New York knows the truth but not me, his own wife!” Sandra points to her chest, “I deserve to know the truth! Tell me!”

“You do,” Michael agrees, somewhat calming Sandra. “Yes, you do.”

“Constanzia,” Carmela calls out gently, approaching her and gesturing her away. “Come here, sweetheart. Come, let’s go.”

You stay put, watching as Vito approaches with a grave look of disappointment on his face—watching his daughter-in-law weep.

“Papa,” Sandra hiccups, shaking her head. “What have I done? What did I do? Was I a bad wife to deserve this?”

Sonny bites his lip, embarrassed in the presence of his father and barely able to look Vito in the eye.

“No, you were not,” Vito answers, scowling at his son. “And Santino does not think so either, does he?”

“Pop—”

“Silence!” Vito interrupts. “You’ve caused our family enough embarrassment, you make your wife cry and you speak back to me? Have you no shame, Santino? You treat the mother of your children—your life partner—this way with such disrespect in front of your family?” Vito shakes a scolding finger at Sonny. “I will speak to you alone, Santino, so you don’t embarrass yourself in front of the family any longer, but you owe answers and apologies to your wife.”

“I want to hear it from Michael,” Sandra sniffles.

Vito looks over at the both of you, noticing the frowns on your faces.

“Him or Victoria,” Sandra hiccups again, “they were both in Las Vegas with Sonny. They know. Victoria, tell Papa.”

You nod, refusing to hold back for Sonny’s sake. “Papa, I didn’t see or hear anything—that’s the truth—but Sonny told me himself he went to spend time with a woman.”

“Rita, right?” Sandra attempts to catch her breath.

Michael raises a brow, seriously beginning to wonder how everyone knows Rita Duvall in this family.

“Aaaaaa…” Vincent snuggles your chest, surprising you by how calm he remains throughout so much shouting being exchanged.

“Rita, seriously?” Michael stares at Sonny, no longer able to hold back his own disappointment.

You press your lips down together, remaining silent and attempting to appear indifferent to the name mentioned. If Sandra knows of Rita, then she already knows about everything else and if her pain lies with Sonny’s affair with Rita, then you can only think of Sandra who’d be happy to hear someone put Rita Duvall out of her misery a few days ago.

The conversation changing to speak of a woman whom you killed recently is no doubt an interesting one between family.

“Jesus,” Sonny sighs, looking away in defeat.

“Go inside, I’ll speak with you separately,” Vito gestures Sonny away. “Everyone, please give them some privacy. Let us all return to what we were doing, your mother and I will deal with this.”

Michael gives Sonny one last look before gently leading you away and back towards your estate. “Come on, darling.”

“YOU WERE WHORING AROUND IN VEGAS WHILE I WAS WAITING FOR YOU AND TAKING CARE OF OUR FAMILY!” Is the last thing you hear Sandra scream to Sonny right then and there before you and Michael enter your estate.

With every step you take until you and Michael are back into the estate with the door shut, you can hear Sandra’s sobbing, Sonny’s disgruntled comments, and Vito’s scolding.

“C’mon, c’mon, go inside. Get inside, and we’ll talk. Come on, that’s enough. Stop crying.”

“Aa!” Vincent squirms in your arms, only now beginning to grow restless.

“Ah, I’m right here. Right here,” you gently bop the tip of Vincent’s little nose, “hi, baby. Hiiii, look at Mama.”

“Gaaaaahhhh…” Vincent blinks in confusion, beginning to calm down as you give both of his cheeks a kiss.

Michael glances out towards the window, knowing Sandra is sobbing and inconsolable whereas Vito feels disrespected and embarrassed on behalf of the family.

“There, there,” you wiggle a piece of your hair to Vincent, noticing his interest immediately grow. “Mama’s hair is that interesting, hmm? I’m flattered. You’ll grab on daddy’s tie too, right?”

Vincent blathers quietly, holding a few strands of your hair in a loose grip as you turn to face Michael who locks the front door, gazing back at you.

“I…” You take in a deep breath, patting Vincent’s back. “It’s past his nap time. I should put him to bed.”

“Very well,” Michael nods, slipping both hands into the pockets of his trousers. “We need to talk after.”

Strange, cold tension fills the space between you and Michael momentarily towards the matter with Sandra; a lot to consider on Michael’s behalf whereas memories of New York with Sonny come rushing back to you—leaving a mellow taste in both of your mouths

“I know,” you say back, turning around and approaching the staircase.

“I want you in my office afterward,” Michael watches as you carefully go up the steps.

“I’m tired, Michael,” you say back; whether it’s of today or what just occurred in front of half of the family, you leave it up to Michael to infer.

“I know. I am too.”

You feel the tension in your body begin to ease up as you make your way upstairs with little Vincent in your arms, already noticing how your son snuggles you in a state of sleepiness.

“Let’s get you all cozy and in your bed,” you whisper softly to Vincent, approaching the nursery. “You’re falling asleep on me already. Oh,” you can’t help but smile at how Vincent’s curled up to your chest, peacefully beginning to doze off.

You carefully set Vincent in his crib, tucking him in and minding what position he’s laying in without waking him.

“I need to learn from you, honestly,” you joke, speaking in a very ushered tone as you watch Vincent sleep. “Just look at you…” You sigh in relief, “growing so fast. Three months have gone like that already… I love you, little guy. Mama loves you so much.”

You make sure to keep the nursery door open for Esther to check in on Vincent if you’re unable to throughout the day and also to hear any crying.

It’s not that you dread returning downstairs to get to Michael’s office or feel anxious about having a talk with him about all that just occurred with Sandra and Sonny, but rather that you feel so burned out from it all that the last thing you want is to be put in the middle—especially if it means Sandra and Sonny’s marriage will be permanently impacted.

None of this is fair to Sandra, but it’s not fair to you either. Then again, you know more about what happened than you’ll ever let on, and Michael knows this too.

Back in his office, Michael organizes paperwork over his desk—not so much distracted but waiting for you.

You step into Michael’s office, pulling off your hair tie to let your bun unravel free over your shoulders before smoothening it out.

You don’t even bother to look up at Michael right away who has his hands in his pockets, walking around his desk to approach you now.

Michael can tell you’re not avoiding looking at him directly out of guilt or anxiety, but that you’re tense and a little shaken up from that dramatic encounter with Sandra and Sonny.

Michael approaches you directly, placing both hands over your arms gently. “Relax, darling. You’re very tense.”

Sighing softly, you look up at your husband and frown.

Michael rubs up and down your arms tenderly, gazing into your eyes with nothing but genuine trust.

“Sandra…” You begin.

“I know,” Michael speaks to you in a soothing, calm voice. “There’s nothing we can do about the matter. It must be left between them.”

“And Papa?”

“Pop is disappointed,” Michael nods grimly. “He’ll have his say”

“I’m glad,” you say with a sigh, wrapping your arms around Michael’s shoulders. “Sandra deserves that much at least.”

Michael and you are more than well aware of how Connie didn’t have that kind of treatment from Vito who outright refused to get involved in her and Connie’s abusive marriage.

“I can presume whatever Santino did was as bad as Sandra claimed,” Michael mentions.

“Yes, it was,” you nod back, “Sonny’s lucky. Even with Pop talking to him who I trust will knock some sense into him, he’s still lucky.”

“Hmm,” Michael embraces you, planting a kiss over the side of your neck.

“If it was my father…” You grimace, “no. He would be in deep shit. Any of my brothers would.”

“That is to be expected,” Michael agrees. “He came and spoke with me shortly after we settled in.”

You blush, gently pressing your forehead against Michael’s. “Sonny did?”

“Yes,” Michael answers, “he came in bitter, entitled, and demanding answers. All he spoke of was you.”

“Great,” you mumble under your breath. “He doesn’t understand what I did was for his own good.”

“I agree,” Michael says, but in reality, he has no idea exactly what you mean. “He questioned your actions and integrity, but I did not. I don’t. As Pop said, we can’t afford a scandal on Sonny’s behalf after Fredo. Deanna is in Hollywood and has held nothing back to journalists about Fredo and his promiscuity throughout their marriage.”

“Figures,” you rub your temple gingerly, “it’s the last thing we need after all of this.

“And the baby,” Michael kisses your forehead. “I’m more concerned about you and our family than anything else. I refuse to make Sonny’s behavior our problem.”

“I know, baby,” you nod glumly. “I didn’t want Pop and everyone to hear all of that but it was inevitable.”

“Perhaps it was for the best,” Michael offers. “The rest is up to them personally, however… You never told me you hit Sonny.”

“He deserved it,” you look up into Michael’s eyes. “Then and there, he deserved it.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“You didn’t expect that though, did you?” You ask.

“I understood why,” Michael replies. “You’re not a bitter and malicious person, Victoria, and you certainly weren’t in Las Vegas.”

“I know how he is,” you say back, practically still able to hear Rita’s whiny voice mocking you over her supposed pregnancy.

“And that brother-in-law of yours? His seed is inside me, so? You know what happens next, don’t you?”

You refuse to mention anything about Rita’s pregnancy to Michael for your own reasons.

“Sonny’s still my brother, and I care about him,” you state. “But he has more to deal with when it comes to his marriage. And as to what I did…” You shake your head, “he just needs to get over it.”

“He will,” Michael takes your hand, leading you towards one of the sofas in the office. “It doesn’t mean anything to me anymore.”

“I understand, baby,” you sit next to Michael on the leather sofa, curling up to his side. “I just want my little peace and quiet with you and the babies.”

“Is Vincent asleep?” Michael wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to his body.

“Mhmm,” you nod, “fell asleep right away. Wasted no time.”

“I wish we could have said the same for the twins when they were growing up,” Michael chuckles quietly.

“Same here,” you giggle back. “At least they did when they were newborns.”

“A different story altogether,” Michael adds. “Mm, how do you feel?”

“About?” You feel his hand rubbing up and down your back gingerly.

“Everything, or just about.”

“I’m alright,” you smile back at your husband. “And I know things will be better. I’m not going to let the last few days dictate to me how I should keep feeling.”

“I’m prepared to put the world to a stop if I need to for you, Victoria,” Michael’s hands begin to massage up and around your shoulders. “You only gave birth a few months ago. I want you to relax.”

“I’ll catch up eventually,” you relax in Michael’s embrace. “With this little one.”

“We missed having a baby around,” Michael kisses the top of your head. “The twins… They’ve grown up already.”

“Very fast,” the blush over your cheeks deepens as Michael kisses both of your hands.

“I’m proud of them and you,” Michael whispers against your forehead before kissing it.

“I love you so much,” you blush back.

“I love you too,” Michael gives your hands a soft squeeze. “You’re an amazing mother, I want you to know that.”

Your heart skips a beat as you feel Michael’s hand beginning to caress down your chest; his movements growing slower and more tender.

“And an amazing woman,” Michael nuzzles your neck as you find your fingers clutching onto the fabric of Michael’s dress shirt.

“Michael,” you whisper, tilting your head back to feel the warmth of Michael’s lips planting hot kisses over your neck—inhaling in the scent of your floral perfume.

A shiver goes down your spine from arousal as you feel Michael’s nose brush against your skin. “I want to have another child with you…”

“Already,” your breath hitches as you press your body against Michael’s.

“Whenever you feel ready,” Michael’s hands begin to inch up your blouse.

“Considerate,” you tease back—a whimper escaping your lips from Michael’s hands cupping your breasts.

“Your needs come first, baby,” Michael rubs his fingers over your tender nipples—already hardened from arousal. “I can still please you until it’s over.”

You know Michael’s referring to your period which you got in the middle of the night. “Yes, you can…” You writhe in Michael’s lap. “I… I didn’t lock the door.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Michael begins to inch your blouse up. “I want you here right now.”

“Oh, please,” you buck your hips up in arousal, watching as Michael licks his fingertips and continues massaging your nipples.

“You. Are. Mine.” Michael says between kisses over your breasts. “Only mine.”

“Yes,” your eyes flutter shut as Michael slips your blouse up and off over your head.

From where you both lay on the sofa in Michael’s office, you can see your reflections in a small mirror on the other side of the room; watching the way Michael teases and pleases your body.

“Come here, baby,” Michael’s tongue flickers over your breasts as he massages one and suckles over the other.

You moan loudly, tugging over his hair and feeling his hot tongue over your nipple.

Rolling your eyes back from pleasure, you feel you could cum from this alone—feeling just as horny on your period and willing to take all the alone time you can with Michael, right here and right now.

Within the same week, Fredo’s infamous brothel in Las Vegas is officially sold and shut down with the new buyer’s intention to tear the entire building and structure down and build anew.

All is well for the Corleone family who anticipated such for a long time coming; now with no need to worry about the physical reminders of Fredo’s legacy and being involved in the prostitution business by affiliation.

The news of the Corleone family now having no official ties whatsoever to any form of prostitution pleases Don Tattaglia who still seeks to have a monopoly over brothels under his family business; something Michael is more than fine with.

It’s not for another five days until the brothel’s managers realize they aren’t able to contact Rita Duvall in any form—has accounted for all the other women who worked at the brothel to move employment to an unaffiliated, new brothel.

Rita neither answers her telephone nor writes back. Her neighbors cannot remember the last time they saw her enter her apartment which remains eerily silent.

For the sake of formality and to avoid trouble with the law, the brothel managers file an official missing persons case on behalf of Rita, but from the unamused twinkle in the constable’s eyes at the police station, it was easily understood this investigation wouldn’t be taken seriously or as a priority over a missing prostitute.

It isn’t the first time showgirls, dancers, cocktail waitresses, and prostitutes have gone missing before but especially those who are known by the mafia or have curled up to him are almost always expected to go missing eventually.

It’s either a matter of knowing too much, overhearing something, or being under the suspicion one might snitch or get smart-mouthed towards the mafia which causes mistresses to go missing for good.

Rita isn’t the type to run off for dramatics or disappear for a while nor did the news of the brothel shutting down upset her to do so, but neither the police nor the brothel’s managers expect to find Rita ever again.

Still, it would be something to find Rita’s body at the very least and confirm what happened to her once and for all. Rita’s death would have to be covered up by the police and lied about on every report if it was done by the mafia in which one would truly know if it was done by the hands of a made man or a common killer.

Because the death of many others like Rita is common, there’s no special amount of sympathy felt by anyone on her behalf. Only journalists care about these kinds of cases when it benefits their articles and reports.

At this point in time, it’s been a little while since someone like Rita was reported missing or found dead—leaving a gap in time.

Only once a week passes with no information on Rita, nobody able to contact her, and nothing to pinpoint where she may have gone, what may have happened to her or anything in-between does Luciana’s interest begin to spike up.

Luciana already reported on the brothel shutting down, but it didn’t garner as much attention in the media as she thought.

Although she mentioned Fredo’s name in her article which meant the Corleone family by default and expected some sort of public attention towards it knowing how notorious Fredo’s brothels were when he was actively involved and running them, it appeared that the public was tired of the same old story spun in different ways.

Not only does Rita’s disappearance intrigue Luciana, but the fact that the police, her colleagues, and her employers also stopped caring about her almost immediately beckons for a new report.

Without being explicit or defaming, Luciana’s always been reporting on the drama caused by the mafia and every indulgence they have, especially when it comes to debauchery and luxurious lifestyles.

Since mafiosi are seen as wealthy businessmen outside of the underworld of crime, nothing impacts their reputation, family, or payroll so none come to mind but sometimes even appreciate the light of the media on them. The only exception to this has always been the Tattaglia family.

Tattaglia is the only mafiosi—let alone Don—who considers prostitution a lucrative and important business and because such a business is illegal, Tattaglia pats the city police’s pockets well to keep them in their place and their mouths shut.

Despite suspecting or knowing a fair share herself, Luciana doesn’t care. She takes a neutral stance on everything so as long as it doesn’t impact her directly. Some may even call her selfish for how she couldn’t care less what comes of her colleagues; it’s just one less journalist to compete with.

Luciana also couldn’t care less about the hows and whys of what the crime families do. She’s a reporter and a journalist—all she likes to do is get to the bottom of a good story and deliver.

Luciana remains to be the only journalist at her media outlet that cares about “whore gossip” and “drama scandals” to the point where she’s built her career and reputation on it.

After all, Luciana can be considered a nosy, gossipy person, and growing up she was the first to hear, spread and confirm rumors throughout her high school days that never really faded away when she became an adult.

And despite only speaking with Rita once to be bribed out of reporting a news story on her, Luciana doesn’t consider herself to know Rita personally. All Luciana figures are that Rita, a very popular prostitute and showgirl on stage and behind curtains but not so much in her personal life has gone missing and it’s going to make a hell of a headline.

Luciana’s aware Rita’s always spent her fair share of time with the Barzinis and Tattaglias, so regardless of how Luciana words her headline or chooses to write up a story, it’ll shine the wrong light on the two mafia families which could easily get Luciana and all of her colleagues killed.

Now that their “star girl” Rita Duvall is officially missing, the last thing Luciana will want is any heat on her without implying Rita’s possibly murdered.

For now, Luciana decides to write up an article that’ll only make it look like Rita’s a bad girl gone rogue until Luciana can dig up and discover enough information on what really happened to write up something proper.

‘Without a Trace: Star Showgirl and Performer Rita Duvall Missing?’ Luciana stares at her typewriter, amused by the witty headline she came up with.

It’s only a matter of time until Rita shows up with a bolstered reputation as if she was starting her second act or with a ruined reputation because she disappeared and none cared to find out why.

It’s that, or the third option; that Rita Duvall is dead.

#the godfather #al pacino #michael corleone x reader #michael corleone x oc #michael corleone fanfic #godfather au #michael corleone smut #michael corleone x reader smut #michael corleone #the godfather x reader #godfather x reader #alfredo james pacino #the godfather part ii #moth to flame fic #moth to flame fanfic

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storytelller-drabbles-english · 4 years

Text

«Chilling Adventures of Sabrina». Robin Goodfellow/Theo Putnam. Nightmares (18+) (#1)

Warnings: !Detailed rape!

Notes:

I write in Russian and use a translator. If you find any errors, please let me know about it.

___

They're fucking him again. When will it end?

Robin gritted his teeth and exerted all his strength not to scream in pain while Carcosa pounded into him from behind, fucking him dry.

When, when will this torture end?..

Robin tried to think of something else, someone else and Theo immediately came to mind. Theo with his charming embarrassed smile, big eyes and the way he hugged him, Robin… They had recently met, but he liked Theo very much.… But it was he, Robin, who was supposed to lead him to death. Theo was one of three possible victims for the resurrection of the Green Man. Robin swore to himself that he would not let anyone hurt Theo, but for this it was necessary that Theo did not remain innocent, and therefore…

The flow of thoughts was interrupted unexpectedly. Robin whined as he felt the Carcosa coming out of him, but he knew it wasn't over yet.

"Nagaina, take care of him, I'm going to take a shower. Circe, you can start too," he ordered, leaving the tent.

"I'm sorry, baby," Circe whispered softly, coming up to him and sitting down next to him.

"Just... do it already..." Robin asked, grimacing from the wild pain.

Circe looked at him worriedly, but said nothing more, just kissed him on the shoulder, and then came up from the side, kissing him hotly on the lips, then smoothly moving to the neck. Robin breathed more often, and then opened his mouth in a silent scream, feeling a dildo inside him. He missed the moment when Nagaina joined them, coming from behind.

When Carcosa returned, he resumed his place behind Robin, pulling the "dick" out of him, Circe remained in place, and Nagaina settled between his legs.

"Robin... Robin!" as if through cotton wool, the words reached him.

He squeezed his eyes shut. Please let it end! He can't take it anymore!

"Robin!!!"

He woke up abruptly, feeling a chilling horror.

It was a dream. Thank God, it was just a dream... breathing became a little easier.

"Robin?" Theo asked. №Are you okay? What did you dream of? You were screaming in your sleep." Theo looked at him worriedly.

Robin shivered at the memory and burrowed deeper into the blanket. Theo moved closer, hugging him under the covers, and Robin, rolling over on his side, gently rubbed his nose against his open shoulder.

"Phantasmagoria. I was dreaming of a phantasmagoria," he moved away a little so that he could see Theo's eyes.

"Will you tell me?" he asked softly.

"I..." he faltered, looking into Theo's eyes, and then sighed heavily, lying back on his back, "when I was little, they paved a road near the forest where we lived," Robin began to tell quietly, stroking Theo on the back in an attempt to calm down, "we, children, we ran all over the forest and often went out to the road, and since we saw it for the first time in our lives, we were wondering what was there. There were five of us. Remember the Moth?" Theo mumbled "uh-huh". "She's been my best friend since childhood, but we only met again when I started riding with Carcosa," Robin shuddered and Theo immediately snuggled up to him, stroking his chest soothingly.

Robin looked up at the ceiling, choosing his words.

"There were five of us," he repeated. "They noticed us. Two were caught, first me, then the Moth, because she couldn't leave me, the others ran away," he began unconsciously stroking Theo's shoulder and bit his lip. "They took us away from the forest and we began to weaken. Then they understood everything and began to move. Even then they were looking for ways to resurrect their pagan gods and we had to join them willy-nilly. For several years we wandered, "traveled", as they said, and we managed to grow up, by human standards we were of age. But they... Carcosa abused the Moth, took her without her consent and she ran away. She offered me to run away, we didn't know where, but we wanted so much..." there was an old pain in Robin's voice.

"And then?" Theo asked breathlessly, looking at him.

"And then we were noticed. The moth really asked me to save her and I saved her, but I stayed with them because I didn't have time to escape."

"Didn't you have time?" There was surprise in Theo's voice.

"Yes, I didn't have time. There are special spells that make me...uspowerless," Robin corrected himself. "Then the pagans gave me this name so that I would forget mine," he smiled sadly.

"And your real name..." he drawled, frowning.

"Puck, but I'm already used to the fact that everyone calls me Robin," he smiled out of the corner of his lips and continued, "after the Moth escaped, Karkosa seemed to break loose". Robin bit his lip and looked at Theo, and then closed his eyes. He frowned, realizing that there was clearly nothing good there, but did not rush to answer. He just pulled himself up a little and gently touched Robin's face with his hand, stroked his forehead, lightly touched his closed eyelids with his finger.

Robin exhaled, then turned his head and, opening his eyes, looked at Theo again.

"First he abused the Moth, and when she ran away, he started... doing it to me," his voice faltered.

Theo's eyes widened as he finally understood.

"Did he rape you?" there was genuine horror in his voice.

"Yes," Robin answered quietly, — and it was repeated constantly. When he was in a bad mood and when he was in a good mood, too, or..." he sighed heavily and shook his head, "very often."

"You didn't try to run away anymore?" Theo asked.

"I wanted to, but Nagaina was guarding me. She has hundreds or thousands of snake pets, so... they woke her up whenever I managed to slip away and she brought me back, and then Pan... punished me for disobedience," by the end of the sentence, Robin's voice became very quiet.

They lay in silence for a few minutes until Robin continued talking.

"And then he came up with a "wonderful" idea to arrange a threesome".

"What?!"

"They did it three of them, Pan, Nagaina and Circe," Robin swallowed and closed his eyes. "Circe liked me as a child, so she did it reluctantly and always helped me after. She's always helped me," he smiled slightly. "And Nagaina helped Pan in everything," his smile faded, "so he trusted her when it was necessary to... prepare me for him. And he trusted Circe, of course, but Nagaina more."

Theo was stunned into silence for a few minutes, and then asked:

"Do you remember when we met?" When Robin nodded, he continued, "after that, they too?.." He didn't have the heart to finish the sentence.

"Yes," Robin whispered, closing his eyes and smiling weakly through the force.

"Look at me," Theo asked softly after a few moments of oppressive silence.

When Robin did this, he continued:

"You're not there anymore, Robin, and you're never going back there. They're dead and they won't touch you again, I promise."

"I know," the guy smiled weakly, "I know, but... they come back to me in dreams, they always come back," he muttered.

Suddenly Theo sat up and turned to him.

"I will protect you," he said seriously, looking into his eyes, "always. I swear... whatever you want. I will never hurt you and will not let anyone hurt you."

"I know," tears glistened in Robin's eyes, "thank you, Theo…"

Putnam looked at him for a few seconds, and then kissed him first on the temple, then on the nose and lay back down, hugging Robin tightly.

"I love you," he whispered, "sleep, I'll be there to protect you from nightmares." If that doesn't work, then I'll figure something out. I promise. Go to sleep."

Robin put his arm around Theo's shoulder and closed his eyes.

As soon as his breathing steadied, Theo grabbed his cell phone and, dimming the brightness of the screen, wrote a message.

Today, 02:56Theo: Robin has nightmares, I need your help 02:56

Brina:I'll be right there03:00

Theo:Would your aunts mind?03:02

Theo:It's night outside03:03

Brina:No03:04

Brina:I'll take Ambrose with me03:06

Brina:A couple more minutes and we're with you03:12

Theo:Thank you03:13

Theo carefully got out of bed and covered Robin well with a blanket so that he would not freeze, and then kissed him on the temple and slipped out into the corridor.

Sabrina and Ambrose were already standing outside the door, yawning desperately.

"Hi," Theo whispered, quietly opening the door, "come in. Although you could have moved," he looked at his friends uncomprehendingly.

"We decided not to scare your father," Sabrina smiled as she walked inside. "What happened?" she immediately asked.

"Robin has a phantasmagoria," Theo said quickly, going into the kitchen so as not to wake anyone, "he has nightmares."

"For some reason?" the witch clarified.

"I don't know, everything was fine. And can't they dream just like that?" Theo asked, puzzled.

"They can, of course," the girl nodded, "but usually they dream because of subconscious fears. Does he have post-traumatic stress disorder? Did something hurt him?" she frowned.

"Someone," Theo's eyes flashed angrily, "Carcosa, the one who is "The Great God Pan," he literally spat out.

Sabrina exchanged glances with Ambrose.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

***

The loud sound of footsteps made Robin jump up in bed.

"Theo?" he called softly, looking around the empty room.

"I'm here, here," Theo said hurriedly, appearing on the threshold.

"You said you'd be there."

"I'm here," he confirmed, sitting up on the bed facing Robin, then looked down, then looked up at Robin, and then lowered his eyes again, staring at the bedspread.

"Is something wrong, Theo?" Robin asked, looking at him anxiously.

"I called Sabrina," he blurted out quickly.

"You... what?" Robin frowned.

"I called Sabrina because you're having nightmares and I don't know how to help you."

"And she... she came? Is she here now?"

"Yes," Theo nodded, "she's... they're in the kitchen."

"They"?" Robin's frown deepened.

"Ambrose came too. They're waiting for you... for us," Theo corrected himself quickly. "I can call them here if you want."

Robin nodded decisively, muttering "wait a bit," and began to dress.

"He's just a bastard," the witch hissed. Her fists were clenching themselves. At the thought of what Robin had gone through, a burning anger boiled up in her. She could barely control herself, but she had to, because her anger wouldn't help the cause.

She took a deep breath and exhaled to calm the storm that was rising in her soul.

"Sabrina," Ambrose drawled reproachfully.

"What?!" the girl turned to him.

"Calm down, please. We need to decide how we will help Robin," the guy reminded.

"I'm almost calm. You can while he's sleeping," Sabrina suggested, "while he's awake, in principle, you can too," the witch shook her head. "I want his permission anyway. These are his memories."

Ambrose sighed heavily.

"Theo will talk to him now."

A few minutes later Putnam appeared on the threshold of the kitchen.

"Come on."

The three of them went into Theo's bedroom.

"Hi," Sabrina smiled weakly, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Ambrose just nodded at him, leaning against the wall.

"Hi," Robin said softly, "Theo told me what you want to do," he looked at Putnam. He lifted the corners of his lips in a semblance of a smile, but he did not want to smile.

Spellman nodded.

"Do you really need my permission?" Robin asked.

"No," the girl shook her head, "but I want to get your permission, and not to help by force."

"OK, I allow it," the guy nodded, "what do I need to do?"

"Wait, how do you want to do that? I can put you to sleep or you can just close your eyes without falling asleep."

"I don't know," Robin said after thinking for a few seconds. "How will it be more convenient?"

"Okay, let's try it in a dream," Sabrina breathed.

***

"Close your eyes."

As soon as Robin obeyed, and also took a deep breath and exhaled, Sabrina said some kind of spell, then folded her palms as if there was a round object inside her. The girl raised her palms to Robin, and then opened them, turning her open palms to the hobgoblin's body, holding her hands in the air above him. Robin squeezed his eyes shut harder when she reached her head, but Sabrina held her hands there longer, and then Robin relaxed.

Sabrina cast the spell again, placing her hands on Robin's forehead and closing her eyes. She stroked his forehead with her thumbs and Theo saw a glow emanating from them that flooded Robin's face.

"Is this normal?" He asked Ambrose in a whisper.

"Yes, don't worry," he replied softly, and then joined his cousin, moving his hands over Robin's body and pronouncing incomprehensible words. Theo could only watch what was happening.

Ten minutes later, Sabrina asked for a chair in a strained voice and Theo quickly dragged it to her. She sat down, bent over, being very close to Robin's face, and then put her palms to the guy's temples, muttering another spell.

Robin exhaled, and Sabrina pulled away from him and asked for water. Her nose was bleeding.

"He needs to sleep it off," she finally said when Ambrose finished with the spells, "and everything should be fine."

She smiled at Theo, who still couldn't believe it, as he handed her napkins so she could wipe away the blood.

"Everything should be fine," she repeated, touching his hand with her own, "if it's not, I'll think of something,we," she squinted at Ambrose, "we'll think of something. If it doesn't work, we won't leave him like this, I promise you," she tightened her grip on his hand.

"Thanks, Sabrina," Theo sniffed. The girl opened her arms and Theo hugged her tightly, thanking her.

It remained only to wait.

#chilling adventures of sabrina #caos #robin goodfellow x theo putnam #robin goodfellow #theo putnam #sabrina spellman #ambrose spellman #chilling adventures of sabrina drabble #drabble

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mycatshuman · 5 years

Text

The Emo Who Stole Christmas

Chapter 4 : You're A Mean One Mr. Grinch or Virgil and Roman Are Done With the Who's and Decide to Get Back at Them.

Word Count: 3,477

Warnings: stealing of Christmas, may be some cursing, grown adult blaming a child for their problems, let me know if I missed any

Pairings: Pre-established Prinxiety and Logicality and Demus

Masterlist | Previous | Next | More Chapters

Again, a big thank you to @icequeenoriginal for being the co-creator. This was a mother-daughter effort and I love it.

❄🎅🎄❄🎅🎄❄🎅🎄❄🎅🎄❄🎅🎄❄

Virgil stood staring down at the Whoville in the ice-cold snow.

Yes, the Grinch knew that tomorrow all the Whos would wake bright and early and rush for their toys.

"And then, the noise! Oh, the noise! Noise, noise, noise!" Virgil exclaimed as he stomped around. "They'll bang on tong-tinglers. They'll blow their floo-flounders. They'll crash on Jang-jinglers and bounce on boing-bouncers!" He held his hands to his ears as if he could already hear the horrific noise.

Then Whos young and old would sit down to feast.

"And they'll ready and they'll feast. And they'll feast, feast, feast, feast!!" Virgil exclaimed as he stomped around. "They'll eat their Who pudding! And rare Who roast beast! And that's something I can not stand in the least." Virgil paused in his ranting. "Oh no!" He exclaimed horrified. "I'm speaking in rhyme!" He cried out. "Blast you Whos!" He exclaimed as he fell to his knees.

The more the Grinch thought of what Christmas would bring…the more the Grinch thought...

"I must stop this whole thing!" Virgil exclaimed as he stood up and paced. "For year after year, I've put up with it now! I must stop this Christmas from coming! But how?" Virgil blinked. "I mean, in what way?" He let out an annoyed growl and turned to walk inside. He opened the door and was hit with a blast of cheery Christmas music.

"Christmas is going to the dogs!" Virgil blinked as he watches Remy lazily bath himself to the music. Virgil opened his mouth only to close it again confused. He quickly jumped at the sound of his door opening and turned to find Roman dressed in sweats.

"Roman?" Virgil asked concerned. "How are you feeling?" Roman shuffled forward and fell forward into his lover's arms. Virgil's arms came up to wrap around the other and envelope him in a hug.

"Virgil…I want to live with you. I don't want to be down there anymore. Not with the way they keep treating me, like some ornament meant to be stared at or ignored! Please! I don't care if someone finds out, I can't live there anymore!”

Virgil blinked rapidly. "Love," he started. "Are you 100% sure about this?" Roman nodded. Virgil sighed and ran his hands through the other soft curls.

"Virgil?" Roman asked softly after a while.

"Hmm?"

"I want to make them pay. I want them to understand. I don't-I want them to-" Roman groaned and hurried his face in Virgil's chest, ironically too emotionally exhausted to deal with his emotions. Virgil frowned and snuggled the other closer trying to provide as much comfort as he could. Then, his mind began to whirl.

Then the Grinch got an idea. An awful idea. The Grinch got a wonderful awful idea.

Virgil pulled away from Roman and announced. ”I’m going to steal Christmas.” Roman blinked as Virgil smirked. "They want to hurt you so bad, they'll lose Christmas. And if they want a monster, then I'll show them a monster!"

Roman hopped up, finally finding some energy. "Yes! I'll go make the costume. You work on the sleigh!" He turned to Remy only to stop. "And you just keep bathing yourself." Roman ran off and began working while Virgil started on the monstrous sleigh.

”With this coat and this hat, he'll look just like Saint Nick!" Roman exclaimed. As they worked, Roman's voice sang a little song he had composed from all of the stupid rumors about the Grinch. "'You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch,'" Virgil chuckled as he heard the other sing. "'You really are a heel. You're as cuddly as a cactus, You're as charming as an eel, Mr. Grinch! You're a bad banana with a greasy black peel!" Roman walked over to Virgil with the hat and place it on his head as he sang and place a quick kiss to his cheeks before going back to work on the jacket. "'Just face the music, you're a monster, Mr. Grinch, yes, you are. Your heart's an empty hole. Your brain is full of spiders. You've got garlic in your soul, Mr. Grinch. I wouldn't touch you with a thirty-nine-and-a-half foot pole.'" Virgil snorted as Roman danced around with the jacket before sitting on a table out of his way so he could work on the pants. "You know, if you ask the Who's Who of Whoville, No one's denyin” Virgil spared a glance at Roman and smiled. Boy did he love him.

"'You're a vile one, Mr. Grinch." Roman picked up the song again. "'You have termites in your smile. You have all the tender sweetness of a seasick crocodile, Mr. Grinch. Given the choice between you, I'd take the seasick crocodile!" Virgil giggled as Roman tossed the pants over to the same table. He closed the front door behind him after having moved the sleigh outside and walked over to Roman. He wrapped him in a hug and kissed his temple. Roman hummed happily. Virgil hated to have to wipe the smile from his face.

"Roman," Roman made a small noise of acknowledgment. "I'm going to need you to go home. Just for tonight."

Roman ripped himself away from Virgil. "What?! Why?!"

"I can't have you helping me-"

"No! You can't--no!"

"Roman, please-"

"No! No! No!"

"Roman, I can't have you getting in trouble. I want to make sure if you ever want to go back, you can! I can't bare to have you help and then regret it and then want to leave but you can't because you've been shunned. Please, Roman. This is all I ask. Just this one night. Please."

Roman stared at Virgil for a while before reluctantly nodding. "Okay," he whispered. He wasn't happy about it, but he knew it would make Virgil feel better about everything. "Okay, just-" Roman moved forward and placed a hand on Virgil's cheek. "Be careful, okay?" Virgil nodded. "Thank you." Roman pushed up on his tiptoes and gave the other a light kiss. "I'll see you later."

"See you later," Virgil promised

-----

Virgil sat with Remy watching Santa through a telescope. "He should be finishing up anytime now. Wanna talk about a recluse? He only comes out once a year but does he catch any hate for it? No! He probably lives up there just to avoid the taxes." Virgil ranted. He paused as he watched as Santa flew away in his sleigh. "Whoops. I forgot about the reindeer…"

Did that stop the old Grinch? No, the Grinch simply said:

"If I can't find a reindeer, I'll make one instead." Virgil turned around and faced Remy. "Remy!" Remy rolled his eyes and prepared himself to wear a headband with antlers. Virgil quickly found a reindeer headband and placed it on his cat's head before placing a red nose on his nose. "Okay, you're a reindeer and your motivation is that you're a deer with a red nose and nobody likes you. One day, you save Christmas-" Virgil paused. "Ignore that. We'll just improvise. You hate Christmas! You're gonna steal it! Saving Christmas was such a lousy ending. Okay and action!"

Remy glared at Virgil before knocking the red nose off. Virgil blinked and then he gasped. "Brilliant! You regret your own nose because it represents the glitter of commercialism! Why didn't I think of that?" Then Virgil walked off and climbed into the sleigh along with Remy.

Virgil flipped the switch and the sleigh came life, vibrating with power. "That feels good." Virgil turned to Remy "Here goes nothing," and he pressed the bottom to start actually start moving. The sleigh rose up in the air and Virgil grinned. "Wow! It actually works! Okay! Let's go! On, Crasher! On Thrasher! On, Vomit and Blitzkrieg!!!" Virgil screamed as the sleigh shot off and began spinning violently, turning over and over. "We're gonna die!" Virgil shrieked. "We're gonna die! I'm going to throw up! And then we're gonna die! Mommy, tell it to stop!!" He cried, eventually he was able to wrangle control of the sleigh and they flew smoothly through the sky. Virgil stayed frozen for a moment before allowing himself to slightly relax. He let out a sigh of relief. "Almost lost my cool there."

All their windows were dark. Quiet snow filled the air. All the Whos were all dreaming sweet dreams without care when he came to the first little house on the square…

Virgil slowly brought down the sleigh on top of the roof of an overly decorated house. He noticed a traffic light among the variety of lights. "Weird." He turned back to Remy. "This will be our first stop."

The old Grinchy Claus hissed. And he climbed to the roof, empty bags in his fist. He'd slide down the chimney, a rather tight pinch, but if Santa could do it, so could the Grinch.

Virgil stood up and tied a rope around his waist. He stepped up onto the edge of the chimney and prepared to dive. "He's planning a double-twisted interrupted forward-flying 2-and-a-half with a combo tuck and like. A high degree of difficulty," Virgil muttered and jumped and dove headfirst down into the chimney.

He got stuck only once, for a moment or two…

Virgil groaned quietly. "Stupid suit," muttered, referring to the furry suit of the Grinch. Something that helped him scare kids off and leave him alone now was slowing him down from his biggest scare of all. He huffed.

Then he stuck his head out of the fireplace flue.

"A little more stealth, Thomas, please."

Thomas lowered his voice. Where the little Who stockings all hung in a row.

"These stockings," he grinned. "Are the first things to go." The Grinch opened a jar and turned it upside down, shaking out moths. "Alright, fellas, chow time." The moths quickly gobbled up the stockings.

Then he slunk to the icebox.

"Slunk?"

He eyed the Whos' feast. He took the Who pudding. He took the roast beast.

"Hike!" Virgil called out as he launched the roast beast through his legs like a football player.

He cleaned out that icebox as quick as a flash. Why that Grinch, even took their last can of Who-hash. Then he stuffed all the food up the chimney with glee.

Virgil threw the bag up the chimney and spun around to face the tree. "And now," grinned the Grinch. "I'll stuff up the tree!" And the Grinch grabbed the tree and he started to shove, when he heard a small sound like the coo of a dove.

Virgil turned to find Emile and grimaced. He felt really bad about this….

"Excuse me" Emile called softly.

The Grinch had been caught by this tiny Who child, who'd got out of bed for a cup of cold water.

"Mr. Santa, what are you doing with our tree?"

But you know, that old Grinch was so smart and so slick, he thought up a lie, and he thought it up quick.

"Why my sweet little tot!" Virgil exclaimed grandly. "There's a light on this tree that won't light on one side. So, I'm taking it home to my workshop, sweet child. "I'll fix it up there, then I'll bring it back here."

Emile narrowed their eyes. "Santa, what's Christmas really about?"

"Vengeance!" Virgil exclaimed before remembering he was supposed to be pretending he was the perfect Who Santa. "I mean...presents, I suppose."

Emile frowned. "I was afraid of that."

And his fib fooled the child. Then he patted their head and got them a drink, and he sent them to bed.

Emile paused their journey up the stairs. "Santa?"

"What?" Virgil asked.

"Don't forget the Grinch-"

Virgil couldn't take it anymore and walk out from behind the tree. "I'm sorry."

Emile blinked and furrowed their brows. "Why?"

Virgil bit his lip. "To show you all what's more important ...and to get back at everyone for upsetting Roman."

Emile nodded. "Okay. Well...good luck, Virgil."

And when Emile Lou went up with their cup, the Grinch went to the chimney and stuffed the tree up. Virgil quickly shot the tree up the chimney and grabbed everything else before climbing back up the chimney. And the last thing he took was the log for their fire. On their walls, he left nothing but some hooks and some wire. And the one speck of food that he'd left in the house, was a crumb that was even too small for a mouse. Virgil reached down and picked the mouse up deciding to allow it to eat something so long as it wasn't in a Whos’ house. Then he slithered and slunk with a smile most unpleasant, around each Who home and he took every present.

Virgil took a saw and cut a circle above his head and the floor fell through along with the Christmas tree and its presents. He stepped up through the hole and smirked. "They're in sale. Everything must go." And he began to take it all.

------

Virgil froze as he stepped into the bedroom of a magazine picture-perfect house. Oh. This was Roman's house. He glanced around at the decorations and found himself smiling fondly. He should have known. Everything just screamed Roman from the abundance of reds, whites, and golds. He carefully walked over to the bedside table and noticed the ring box the mayor had given Roman. He nearly growled as he went to take it before noticing something else. It was his gift. The one he had made for Roman all those years ago. Virgil's eyes watered and he forced himself to blink the tears away. He shook his head and quickly snatched the ring box off of the table. He went to move only to be stopped by a tan hand yanking him down and lips crashing into his. Virgil blinked in surprise before happily giving into Roman and allowing the other to wrap his arms around his neck.

Roman pulled away after kissing Virgil senseless. "Virgil," he asked softly. "Please, let me help." Virgil bit his lip. "I suppose..." He started. "You can help...but...just promise that if we get caught, you say I forced you to do it, okay?"

Roman's eyes widened in surprise. "Wait! No! I can't-"

"Then I can't let you help."

Roman blinked. "I-okay," he sighed in defeat. "I'll tell them you forced me." Virgil let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you."

-----

Roman froze as he finally dragged the attention away from Virgil's hiding place. He hadn't realized the Whos would put out guards to guard the path leading to Mount Crumpit after everyone went to bed to protect from the Grinch. From Virgil. But Virgil ran out of fuel for his rocket sleigh and he had to drag it up the mountain himself. But they were losing moonlight, and the long way around wouldn't work. So Roman offered to try and distract them. But now, he was very nervous. The Who guards had rounded on him. Accusing him of being in league with the Grinch. Of course, he was, but Virgil had made him promise and he wasn't about to break his promise.

"You really think I'm in league with the Grinch?" Roman asked the guards.

They nodded. "Yeah, why else wouldn't you have immediately said yes to Mayor Anton's proposal?”

Roman grimaced. He really hated the mayor.

"If I really hated the Grinch, would I do this?" Then Roman started his song. "'You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch. You really are a heel, You're as cuddly as a cactus, You're as charming as an eel, Mr. Grinch. You're a bad banana with a greasy black peel. Just face the music, you're a monster, Mr. Grinch, yes, you are. Your heart's an empty hole, Your brain is full of spiders, You've got garlic in your soul, Mr. Grinch. I wouldn't touch you with a thirty-nine-and-a-half foot pole. You know, if you ask the Who's Who of Whoville No one's denyin'. You're a vile one, Mr. Grinch. You have termites in your smile. You have all the tender sweetness Of a seasick crocodile, Mr. Grinch. Given the choice between you, I'd take the seasick crocodile.'"

As Roman sang, he watched Virgil carefully carry the sleigh behind the two guards and try to rush up the path until he wouldn't be noticed.

"I suppose not," one of the guards said once Roman's song was done. Then they both turned back to face the mountain.

Roman blinked. Surely it can't be that easy! But it seemed it was. So he turned and quickly found the nearest garbage chute and took a ride to the top of Mount Crumpit. Prepared to meet his love at the top.

----

3,000 feet up, up the side of Mount Crumpit, he rode with his load to the tip top to dump it.

Virgil grunted as he set the sleigh down carefully in the snow and turned to face Roman who was standing before him. "We did it!" He exclaimed excitedly. Roman grinned, leaped into his arms and wrapped him in a tight hug. Virgil placed a kiss to Roman's lips before setting him back down on his own feet. Virgil turned to Remy. "That wasn't so bad, was it Remy?"

Remy rolled his eyes as he remembered at least 30 different breakdowns Virgil had had along the way.

Roman turned towards the horizon. "They'll be waking up now," he said. "I know just what they'll do. All of them down in Whoville will all cry!”

----

"What an embarrassment! I've been robbed!" The sheriff of Whoville exclaimed as she rushed out of her house to her car. She climbed in and turned the siren on blissfully unaware of the rope attached to her bumper. She quickly drove off.

Mayor Anton awoke with a start and suddenly, his bed crashed through the big window in his room with him in it. As Whos came out of their homes they watched as the mayor slid past on his bed. As the sheriff made a turn around the Christmas tree in the middle of town, the Mayor's bed slid around and came to an abrupt stop.

The sheriff stepped out of her car and stopped as she noticed the mayor. "Mayor May-Who?"

The mayor quickly jumped out of bed and pulled on his robe that was luckily still attached to the bed. He looked around noticing the damage. He frowned. "I wonder who could have done this," he said as he noticed Emile and their family come into view. "I'll tell you one thing: Invite the Grinch destroy Christmas." He raised his hands and beat on his bed. "Invite the Grinch destroy Christmas!!" He paused to take a breath and Emile frowned. "But did anyone, anyone listen to me?"

"I did!" The mayor's assistant piped in but the mayor ignored him.

"No. You choose to listen to a little not-to-be-taken-seriously child. And they haven't even grown into their nose yet." Anton shook his head. "Emile, I hope you're very proud of what you have done." With that, the mayor turned around.

Emile frowned and looked down as tears welled in their eyes.

"If they aren't, then I am!”

Mayor Anton turned around to see Patton, Emile's dad, and Logan, their father had stepped in front of them. "What?" He asked, not sure if he had heard correctly.

"I said, if they aren't, then I am. I'm glad he took our presents."

Who's around all gasped as the Mayor gawked at them. "You're glad? He's glad!" The mayor shouted to the crowd. "You're glad that everything is gone.? You're glad the Grinch virtually wrecked…? No, no. Not wrecked, pulverized Christmas. Is that really what I'm hearing?"

Patton sighed. "You can't hurt Christmas, Mr. Mayor. It's not about the gifts, or contests or the fancy lights." He turned and gestured to Emile who's face showed hopefulness.

"That's what Emile has been trying to tell everybody. "

The mayor blinked. "What is wrong with you!?! This is a child!"

Patton pulled Emile close against his side. "They're my child. They happen to by right by the way." Patton turned towards his family. "I don't need anything more for Christmas than what's right here, my family."

The Who's all erupted into cheers and began telling each other Merry Christmas. Emile smiled brightly. They finally understood. Logan grabbed a hold of Patton's robe. "Merry Christmas honey!" He yanked Patton into a kiss. Missy and Pranks covered their mouths like they were going to be sick as they moved away from their parents.

"Give me a break!" The mayor cried out as he turned away.

Meanwhile, Emile was looking up at Mount Crumpit before they moved to find a garbage chute. "No one should be alone on Christmas," they whispered as the hit the side and started their ride to the top of the mountain.

❄🎅🎄❄🎅🎄❄🎅🎄❄🎅🎄❄🎅🎄❄

Everything Taglist: @spxced-oxt @superwholocked-for-life @mirror2thespirit @aroundofapplesauce @lyditist @little-euro-girl @unicornofdarknessstuff @maryann-draws

The Emo Who Stole Christmas Taglist: @logical-princey @mostpeopleannoyne

May I suggest listening to this song as mom or you know @ icequeenoriginal showed it to me saying this is how extra Roman is singing the song and I quite agree.

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