#AUTHORIZED BY GOVERMENTS
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PROVE BRAD GEIGER IS DETECTED ALWAYS
DETECTED BY POLICE DETECTED BY MILITARIES AUTHORIZED BY GOVERMENTS ALWAYS HAS ACCESS TO ADVANCED DIRECT-TO-SOUL LIFE SUPPORT
#DETECTED BY POLICE DETECTED BY MILITARIES AUTHORIZED BY GOVERMENTS ALWAYS HAS ACCESS TO ADVANCED DIRECT-TO-SOUL LIFE SUPPORT#DETECTED BY POLICE#DETECTED BY MILITARIES#AUTHORIZED BY GOVERMENTS#ALWAYS HAS ACCESS TO ADVANCED DIRECT-TO-SOUL LIFE SUPPORT#ADVANCED DIRECT-TO-SPIRIT LIFE SUPPORT#DIRECT-TO-SOUL#deep learning#machine learning#artificial intelligence#technology#culture#history#nanolathe#nanolathes
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Despite #Trump not yet been inaugurated as #POTUS, the world is taking negative #NOTICE. He is already backing down on his promises, this will get much #worse.
https://halflifecrisis.com/hlc-articles/today-in-america-19-dec-2024âŚ
#USA, this is a time capsule & a #MAGA #prediction of what I see #COMINGSOON. I don't like it!
#half life crisis#baqueroalvarez#authoritarianism#propaganda#trump#kamala harris#politics#author#trump campaign#donald trump#trump 2024#president trump#sinking boat#presidential election#2024 presidential election#destruction#fire#flame#maga#maga 2024#maga morons#fuck maga#maga cult#trump administration#elon musk#vivek ramaswamy#doge#elonmusk#goverment#government shutdown
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TUBBO SHOULDVED POPPED HIS HEAD OFF
#wahhhwahhh im an anarchist lemme throw around my will and authority by intimidating and threatening a commune#consisting of a literal baby and a handful of teenagers one of which i shot to death multiple times bcs he 'represents goverment'#while i myself am an ally and enabler to the biggest symbol of horrible brutal flawed bad authority on the server. SHUT UP.#it's fine. whatever. whatever....#huri.txt#discourse#< IG im just bitching WHATEVER WHATEVER. i have to work dont bother me
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Check it out
#politics#us politics#democrats are corrupt#democrats will destroy america#wake up democrats!!#illegal invasion#illegal crime rate#illegal voting#illegal immigration#drug trade#goverment over reach#border crisis#open borders#abuse of power#abuse of authority#us border#border wall#kamala lies#lying kamala#kamala harris is incompetent#corrupt system#democrat corruption#president trump#true patriot#i'm more maga than ever!#maga 2024#maga#truth justice and the american way#american constitution#american economy
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I hate them. I fucking hate them. I don't think there are words to describe how much I hate them. they are fucking terrorists, they are traitors. It wasn't that long ago that those were us, fuck it is still us. So many of our people petrified from being an easy out of frustration and anger. and with all of that, you pull this shit?
you performed a pogrom. you performed SEVERAL pogroms. there is nothing that justifies what you did, what you are doing. you are lost to me, you are traitors, you are just like monsters that hunt us. you became the beast, are you fucking happy now?
there is a lot of bullshit and misinformation in the anti-Israel sentiment, but not this. this is true. they are the ones who will destroy this place, burn it to the ground and leave all of us lost AGAIN. you claim to know the word of g-d, and yet you ignore the warnings. one of the reasons to the destruction of the first house was spilled blood and the second house fell for unjustified hate. those are the things that you perpetuate.
I hate you, you pitiful shitheads, you will kill us all
#israel#palestine#the israeli palestinian conflict#the Huwara pogrom#the Turmus Ayya pogrom#this makes me sick#not to mention that our terrible and corrupted government is sponsoring more illegal settlement#bibi sold us all#and ben gvir took advantage of people's fear to get a sit#I hate them#I am just so tiered#fuck the illegal settlers and their boundless violence#and you know the fun part?#some of the IDF units are trying to stop it#but they do not get goverment help#and there are people in the units that would rather help the settlers#and the Palestinians obviously trust non of the Israeli authorities#so when they pull their head out of the ass and try to help#things often escalate even further!
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#one of my favorite children authors is a Vadislav Krapivin#aside from lovingly creating perfect shotas in USSR long before we were exposed to this concept#he had this fascinating way of writing ot children but *adults* too#several of his books (and he wrote mostly fantasy/fantastic stuff) written from adult pov#it's still children book and most of characters there are children#but looking from adult pov gives it unique depth and it was one of the reason I was soo introspective about adults in my life#it wasn't perfect adults too#they were messy and sometimes they were messy in really adult ways#like one of the books was from the pov of the guy that was at this world version of Afganistan and had a full blown ptsd#and book wasn't shy from the thing that this guy (our protagonist) was on a side of bad guys! he killed kids there!#a book from the pov of the guy that spies for goverment. and all the arguments he tells himself about how yes it's bad *but*#book where adult in charge obsessed with nice good looking brave and sweet boy that he just must protect#while other one always dirty and smelly just irrates him and for a most part of book he thinks that that one kid stole from him#and he's being so generous by forgiving him for it#and only later he's like oh. dirty one have feelings too. and also he doesn't just always dirty because he likes it#(the way he offhandly mentioned 'yeah I prefer to sleep in forest because older boys sometimes go to our bedrooms at night to do weird stuf#and I don't like it' haunts me as adult. as a kid I just nodded like yeah make sense)#the book where adult raised his little cloned self and was disgusted by this to the point where kid run from him#ike... it was not only interesting#it also was brutally honest about the way adults are not perfect. and sometimes their experiences wrap their understanding of things#and they are messy and stupid and they don't understand your perfectly resonable arguments because they live in wholly different world#and still love and friendship possible there#and yes it adult's jod to become better and understand YOU#sigh.#also that one book where kid protagonist killed himself in the end in torture chambers of KGB to save his adoptive father. I was shaking
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every so often i forget that voting isnt mandatory in most countries. idk why the concept is so wild to me lol im just so used to belgium's weird ass political system ig
#here its mandatory to voting if youre 18yo#this year you can vote if youre 16 and 17 but its not mandatory#anyway the political system in belgium is insane how can a country this small have so many different authorities#again this is the country that had no goverment for over a year and no change was perceived lol
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the one where YN is the governess for Harry's children, and they cannot hide their growing affection for each other.
author's note: part one of governess!yn (who is my lil angel baby). after the love on good omens, i finally got my mojo back and i'm back with another work! pls be kind and definitely let me know what you think (and what you would like to see in part 2!)
word count: 12.4k of mutual pining (but they just don't know it yet), friends to lovers, employer/employee relationships going out of the window and meddling modistes!
WARNINGS: death during childbirth, child abandonment, parent death, death of a spouse (you have been warned)
let me know what you think of daisies here! mwah <3
YEAR ONE
âNoah!â YN called from where she sat on a picnic blanket on the house grounds, âSlow down, wait for your sister!â
âBut Miss. YN,â The younger boy groaned, a second away from stomping his feet YN assumed, âSheâs so slow.â
âNoah,â YN warned again with a tilt of her head, watching as the little boy stopped and waited for the even smaller girl behind him, âThank you.â
YN loved her life.
Whilst YN had not had the easiest of upbringings in life, she had truly found her passion and calling in being a governess. The Styles household had not been the first family she had worked for â but they were her favourite. Noah, the six-year-old little boy, was bubbly, mischievous and had a penchant for teasing his younger sister made her life interesting every day. Honorah, who was just three years old was the complete opposite of her brother â quiet, sweet and the happiest little girl YN knew.
The family that YN had been with before were difficult to work with. There was an absent father and a mother who interfered with YNâs work too much for her liking so when Mr Styles asked her to come and work for his family â she did not even have to think about it. Mr Styles loved his children, but from what YN had heard â he had loved his wife too. Mrs. Styles had died during the birth of Honorah, and from what YN had experienced it had shaken the family.
YN had started working for the Styles about three months ago. Before, Mr. Styles had relied on his mother and his household staff to aid with the upbringing of his children. Unfortunately for them, his mother had been unable to continue helping in her old age and that was when they sought out help from YN.
âMiss. YN,â Honorahâs voice shook YN out of her daydream, âI picked this for you.â
âThank you, Norah,â YN smiled, accepting the small daisy that the girl was holding out for her, âThis is a lovely daisy.â
The girl sheepishly smiled, rocking on her feet slightly as she stood above the older woman. YN smiled, tapping the space on the blanket next to her for her to drop down.
âHow about thisâŚâ YN smiled, pulling out some paper and pencils that she had packed in a basket and placing them in front of the girl, âI packed these for you, would you like to try and draw the daisy?â
Honorah nodded, accepting the paper and pencils from YN. The older woman watched with a smile on her face as the girl carefully placed the daisy down in front of her, her tongue slightly slipping out from her lips in concentration as she grabbed the pencil and started to sketch. In her peripheral vision, YN could see Noah chasing what looked to be a butterfly around some of the flowers in front of them.
YN loved the summer, and the Styles children did too it seemed. They had a perfectly good classroom spare in the house to use but when the weather was this lovely, YN saw no need to keep the children holed up within the four walls. They had completed spelling tests each earlier in the morning, and seeing as though it was a Friday, YN saw no need to overwork the children.
âMiss YN,â Noah screamed, running over to her with his hands clutched tightly in front of him, âI caught it!â
âYou caught it?â YNâs eyes widened, trying to match the younger boyâs excitement, âWhat did you catch, Noah?â
âThe butterfly I was chasing!â The younger boyâs words were followed by a giggle and a small shake of his shoulders, âIt is tickling me.â
âThat is probably because it is scared, Noah,â YN explained, placing the younger boyâs hands in hers, âRemember how small the butterfly is? Small enough to fit in your hand. Even though you are a little boy, you are big and scary to the butterfly.â
âOh,â Noahâs face dropped, his shoulders dropping slightly, âI do not want to scare it.â
YN nodded, âShould we let it go?â
Noah nodded, accepting YNâs help when she cupped his hands and opened them and there was the butterfly. It immediately flew away from them, and Noah saw that as the opportunity to go chasing after it again, Honorah could not resist abandoning her drawing and running after her brother.
YN leant back on her hands lightly and watched as the scene unfolded in front of her. YN had come to terms with the fact that she would not have children of her own, and these two little ones filled that void. YN had been trained with people that she knew would not be the kindest of governesses and at most hated children and she swore she would never be like that. She had been dealt this life, but she was not going to let it change her.
âThe last time he caught a bug it took us three hours to convince him to set it free,â YN jumped at the sound of Mr. Stylesâ voice from the side of her, the man standing a few feet away from her with his hands in his pockets.
YN smiled, turning her attention back to the children, âI must admit I am surprised he gave it up so easily.â
Mr. Styles chuckled, his hand pointing to the blanket next to her, âMay I join you?â
YN nodded, âOf course.â
She tried not to stare as he sat down. There was a decent amount of space between them, and whilst YNâs legs were curved to the side of her â Harryâs extended in front of him. YN would be lying if she said her employer was not attractive. Even with his mood which often reflected the tragedies he had experienced in his life â his features still stood out to YN. Mr. Styles was not shy about eye contact, and every time YN was under his gaze her heart fluttered â just as she was now.
YN looked out at the children who were now chasing each other around a tree, âThey completed their spelling lessons an hour or so ago, and instead of keeping them indoors I thought this was a better way for them to spend their time.â
âI am in no position to criticise your methods, Miss YLN,â Mr. Styles nodded, a chuckle escaping his lips as he watched his son taunt his daughter from behind the tree, âIf anything, this will ensure that bedtime goes smoothly.â
YN chuckled, watching as the children spotted their father and came bounding over to him. Noah immediately latched onto his fatherâs side, with Honorah wrapping her arms around his neck.
âPapa, did you see?â Noahâs beaming face almost shouted at his father, âI caught a butterfly! But I let it go because it was scared.â
âI did see, Noah,â Mr. Styles nodded, pulling down his sonâs shirt that had rolled up at the back, âIt was very nice of you to let it go.â
Noah nodded, obviously trying to suppress the smile on his face due to how his father was happy with him. Honorah, obviously feeling slightly left out of her fatherâs attention, picked up her half-finished daisy and passed it to him.
Even though YN knew the difficulties of making sure that each of the children had equal attention, Mr Styles did it so effortlessly. After YNâs first experience with a family, one in which she was sure that the father had no idea as to what his childrenâs names were â it was a lovely sight. He managed to ensure that each one of his children knew that they were loved, and he did everything he could to ensure that they did not feel the hole that the loss of their mother created.
âHow about we go inside for supper?â Harry offered to the children, both of whom nodded their heads and scrambled to stand up.
YN took that as the opportunity to start packing up the things she had brought out with them and retire for the evening. Just as YN was about to fold up the blanket, Mr. Styles had already beaten her to it. He smiled at her as he offered the folded blanket to her, which she accepted with a nod of her head and placed it within the basket.
Just as she was about to turn and walk towards the house, Mr. Styles cleared his throat.
âWould you like to join us for supper?â
âOh,â That stopped YN in her tracks immediately, âI⌠I should notâŚI would not want to intrude.â
âYou would not be intruding,â Mr. Styles shook his head, âI am offering. There is no need for you to eat alone when you can dine with us.â
YN contemplated his words for a second or so before nodding with a small smile on her face, âThank you.â
Walking side by side, the two adults followed the children as they ran ahead â a supper waiting inside for them.
For the last three weeks, YN had not eaten alone.
To anyone else, that may have not seemed a fate that would be something to be concerned about â but it was strange. It had started with the supper after the day in the garden with the children and had then been followed by an invitation to breakfast the next day.
YN supposed that it had been for ease, and even more so to allow for her teachings of the children to continue into the rest of the day rather than just to the previous allotted times. The only issue that YN had found with the new arrangement was how YN was being affected by the newly increased amount of time she was spending with Mr. Styles.
Throughout the day YN did not see much of him (just like before) as he tended to retreat to his study to take care of the estate and any other issues that may be presented before him. During mealtimes, however, Mr. Styles now took his place to the left of her at the dining table.
Their conversations never strayed far from the weather, food or most likely the children. Whilst it was strange for YN to join them for these meals, there was a slight comfort that was now found between the two of them. YN never saw Harry converse with friends or leave the house late at night to engage with mistresses which had been a favourite pastime of the previous husband she worked for. A part of YN just assumed that maybe he was lonely, and a conversation with someone that was above the age of six was something that he wished for.
There was also a side of YN that missed the quiet that eating alone gave her. It allowed her time to pause and think. Whilst she loved her job, and she loved the children more than anything YN often wondered what her life would have been like if things were different.
Similarly to the Styles children, YNâs mother had died in childbirth. She had known nothing of her but that information. Her father, a gentleman from the city had remarried almost immediately and his new wife had wanted nothing to do with YN â so she had been abandoned at an orphanage. It was only due to her fatherâs lineage (even though she had not the faintest idea of who he was) that she had not been made to work, and instead had been trained to be a governess.
YN often wondered what would have happened if that was not the case, if she had not been abandoned in the way she had. She could have been married and had children of her own by now. At the age she was (eight and twenty) the only way in which she could even register the thought of getting married was to a businessman in the village, and yet she did not venture into the village long enough for that to even be a possibility. These thoughts would swirl around YNâs head, just as they were doing now, but then she would be reminded of how fulfilled she was in this role and none of these thoughts would matter.
Whilst YN would often brush these thoughts out of her head, there was a slight comfort in imaging what her life could have been.
YN sat on the steps outside of the residence, a cup filled with tea next to her and the light summerâs breeze a comfort to her. It was deep into the night, and there had not been movement in the house for a few hours and YN was at peace. Dressed in just her nightgown and shawl, the only comfort to her being the silence and the night sky â YN was happy. This time, whilst it had become few and far between recently was the time that she cherished.
âIt is a lovely night.â
YN jumped out of her skin at the sound of Mr. Stylesâ voice behind her, just as she had done in the garden a few weeks ago. With a hand pressed firmly on her chest in hopes of calming her heart rate down, she turned to look at the man.
âMr. Styles,â YN gasped, her hand still clutching her chest, âI am afraid you quite terrified me.â
âI apologise,â He offers her a smile, âI heard footsteps earlier and I thought it was the children, but then I saw you sitting out here, and I am now assuming it was you.â
âI apologise,â YN was quick to insert, unable to hide her embarrassment at the situation, âI had no intention of disturbing you.â
âI am most certain you did not,â He pointed to the space on the step next to her, as though asking her permission to sit down and she nodded, watching as he dropped down next to her, âIn fact, you were very quiet, it is just me who is a light sleeper. Since my wifeâŚI became the one who had to listen out for the children.â
YNâs body froze when she heard Harry mention his wife. It had been Mr. Stylesâ mother who had initially told her about the death of Mrs. Styles. YN had never heard Harry even mention her. She had not a single idea as to whether he spoke to the children about her. She assumed that whilst he may not speak about her now, he must at some point speak to them. YN knew what it was like to have not met a mother, and she knew the pain that it causes and would certainly not ever wish that upon anyone else â especially not those darling children.
âWe had another eventful day in the garden today,â YN explained, âI attempted to teach the children how to play pall mall with the old set I found but we instead ended up with a game of cat and mouse â and I am therefore not surprised that they are worn out.â
Harry chuckled, âMy family and I used to play pall mall when I was a boy. I had hoped that I would get around to teaching them, but I never had.â
YNâs eyes immediately widened, âI apologise if I overstepped Mr. Styles â I was merely attempting to make use of the day.â
âNo, no do not apologise,â Mr. Styles shook his head, âI heard their joyful glees earlier in the day â I would allow for anything to continue to hear those sounds.â
YN wrapped her arms around her knees, bringing them closer to her chest, âI know that I have given you this information before, but you do have two beautiful children, Mr. Styles.â
Mr Stylesâ face beamed a smile, as though he was proud to be hearing such information. If YN had heard this information about her children she would not have been prouder to be a parent. Mr. Stylesâ face reflected that.
âI wish I could take all of the credit but indeed I cannot,â Mr. Styles sighed, a hand running over his face, âNorah, is, well⌠she is exactly like her namesake. My wife was sweet, gentle, and kind. She was inquisitive, just as Noah is. Unfortunately for him, he may have inherited my unfortunate mischievous side which I had as a child.â
YN chuckled slightly before offering him a small smile, âIt must be lovely to see her in them. To know that she is still here, in them.â
Mr. Styles hesitated. YNâs heart dropped, the fear that she had overstepped coursing through her veins.
âMr. Styles, I apologise,â YNâs chest started to rise up and down, this time from the nerves rather than being scared, âI completely overstepped. I did not mean to offend you.â
Mr. Styles shook his head, âYou did not, and please forget the formalities â call me Harry.â
YN nodded, âI am still sorry if I offended you, Harry.â
âYou did not, YN, I can promise you that,â Harry offered her a smile which settled any of the woman that might have still harboured, âIn truth, you are correct. Whilst she is no longer with us, I see her face every day. I see the aspects of her that I fell in love with day after day. Whilst it does not fill the hole of what we have lost, it offers a sense of comfort that I am more appreciative of than words could ever explain.â
A comfortable silence loomed over the two of them, the words that had just been spoken dancing around them, invading their thoughts. It was at this point that YN felt her sense of loss wash over her.
âI, uh, wellâŚâ YN offered Harry a sad smile, âMy mother died giving birth to me too. I do not wish to bore you with the details, but I did not have a father looking out and loving me in the way that you do. Your children will be grateful in the future for that â I promise you.â
Harry nodded, âI am ever so sorry for your loss, YN.â
YN shrugged, âIt was a long time ago now, Harry. Whilst I do not advocate the idea that wounds heal with time, I suppose that the effects of such become easier to deal with.â
âI tell them stories of her every night,â Harry offers her a small smile, âI will not allow them to forget her.â
âThen that is all that you can do.â
YEAR TWO
âI do so wish that I could dress you proper, Miss YN,â Miss Francis, the modiste, spoke as she continued to pin the dress on YNâs body.
YN chuckled, âI do not need them, Miss Francis. It would be a waste of an expense.â
The older lady sighed, continuing to pin the length on YNâs new-day dress. It was in a delightful lilac, trimmed with lace that around the cuffs and soon to be the hem.
âBut you would look so gorgeous adorned in the latest fashions,â YN sighed but allowed Miss Francis to continue, âI do not know if you have heard, but Mr Jacobsâ son is looking for a wife.â
YN sighed and shook her head, âYou know that I do not entertain myself with the idle gossip of the village.â
âWell, I for one believe you should,â Miss Francis stood up, her eyes focusing directly on YN, âYou have done your duty as a governess, and I am sure the Stylesâ are nothing but grateful for your service but there is a time where one must think for themself.â
YN shook her head, not allowing her words to infiltrate her mind at all, âI would never betray my role. Those children need me⌠Mr. Styles ââ
âMr Styles can find another governess at the drop of a hat,â Miss Francis sighed, âI am sure that if an advertisement went out today there would be a line from here to London hoping for the role.â
YN scoffed and shook her head, âWe both know that is an exaggeration.â
âFrom here to Manchester, then,â Miss Francis corrected.
YN sighed and stepped off the podium, allowing Miss Francis to help her remove the dress on her body and return to the gown she had arrived in. Today the children had gone with Mr Styles to his motherâs house, something that they did every so often and allowed for YN to have a day just to herself. It was a rarity, and in some parts, YN was thankful to receive these days but sometimes she truly did just miss the children. She would also be lying if she said that she did not miss Harry.
In the last year that she had worked for him, she would say that their relationship grew to what YN would deem as a friendship, to more than just an employer-employee relationship. That in itself was something she cherished alongside the life that he had given her. They still ate meals together with the children, and more often than not in their alone time she would find herself in his company. Even if the room was quiet â they would be together.
To anyone looking in, their situation would seem strange. In all honesty â it was. But no matter how strange the situation, YN would not change it for the world.
âI am happy just the way I am, Miss Francis,â YN smiled at the woman, âI do not need to change anything.â
The older lady just scoffed, âWell, if you are ever to change your mind I would be happy to arrange a meeting.â
YN just shook her head, âI promise that shall never be the case.â
It was at this point that YN could tell that the older woman was slightly annoyed with her, âI shall send your gown to the Styles residence when it is ready.â
âThank you, Miss Francis,â YN smiled, âDo not be too angry with me.â
âI am not,â Miss Francis shook her head, âI just wish that one day you realise your full potential, my dear.â
YN left the modiste with her brain spinning with the words that Miss Francis had said. It was not that she was taking account of anything that Miss Francis said about marriage because she knew that was not on the cards for YN. She had made her peace with that a long time ago. It was more so that YN was struggling to decipher what the older woman meant by saying that she had not met her full potential.
All of her life, YN knew that her only job in life was going to be a governess. The orphanage had made that very clear to her, and fortunately for YN â it was also something that she enjoyed. That was her potential. That was the start of it, and that was the end of it. There was nothing else that anyone could say to change that.
It began the age-old question discussion again. It started YNâs spiral as to when she would think about what life could have been like if certain things were different. Then, no matter how much she would imagine what her life could have been like â she always circles back to right now and how this was where she wanted to be.
Sighing, YN stepped out from the side of the building and onto the road in hopes of crossing it and continuing her journey home. Just as she was about to step out, a hand wrapped around her waist and pulled her back by the side of the building. It was just as she had been pulled back that a carriage went riding past her, too fast for the speed of a normal carriage.
It was only then that YN realised that whoever the person was who had pulled her out of the way of the carriage had pretty much just saved her life.
âOh,â YN sighed, her hand lifting to rest again on her chest â her heart rate rising once more.
âAre you okay, miss?â The saviour asked, his hand reaching out to touch her arm.
For the first time, YNâs eyes turn to meet the man and they widen. He was tall, and the only word that YN would have to describe him would be rugged. But in between all of that ruggedness, he was handsome, and YN was not ashamed to admit that.
âI am fine,â YN offered him a small smile, âI⌠Thank you for that. I fear I was not paying much attention to my surroundings.â
âI gathered that,â YNâs eyebrows furrowed at him, âFrom the way you ignored my calls for you to stop.â
âI, uh, I did not hear you,â YN chuckles, âI was justâŚâ
âNot paying much attention,â He chuckles.
It was then that YN realised that her hands were shaking. In the adrenaline of it all, she supposed that her near-death experience was finally catching up with her body.
âI⌠I, uh, thank you for⌠saving me,â YN nodded, pointing across the road, âBut I must be getting home.â
âAllow me to fetch a carriage for you, miss?â YN shook her head at the gentlemanâs offer.
âNo, I cannot, but thank you,â YN gave him a small smile, âI would very much prefer to walk.â
âThen allow me to escort you,â The man continued to press, obviously not wanting to take her no for an answer, âJust to ensure you are out of the path of any other carriages.â
YN chuckled but again shook her head, âSir, even if I was to say yes I know better than to accept offers from strangers.â
The man offered her a smile, âWell, that is an issue that is immediately fixable â Mr Jacobs, it is lovely to make your acquaintance MissâŚâ
ââŚYLN,â YN chuckles, realising by the second that this man was insanely stubborn, âBut I assure you, Mr Jacobs, I am perfectly capable of walking myself home.â
âWell, Miss YLN,â Mr Jacobs presses, âHow about instead of me walking you home it turns out that the two of us are just walking in the same direction.â
YN tilts her head at the man, âI fear that may be worse.â
âYes,â The man laughs, unable to stop himself, âI knew that the minute I said so.â
There must have been something that made it so that once Miss Francis had mentioned this man to her she would meet him. YN would not say that she believed in fate, but this was certainly an odd coincidence.
âWhilst I am not saying yes to your offer,â YN started, offering the man a small smile, âI suppose I cannot stop you from joining me if you do so wish, Mr Jacobs.â
âVery well,â He opened his arm out in the direction she had been walking in, âAfter you, miss.â
YN makes it obvious that she double-checks whether or not any carriages are coming down the road before she attempts to cross it. Her heart has calmed down, as well as the shaking in her hands but in all honesty she would rather curl up with a book and relax.
âSeeing as though we are walking in the same direction, would it be improper of me to ask you a question or two?â Mr Jacobs prompted from the side of her.
âI would say that I owe you as much,â YN sighed, offering him a small smile, âSeeing as though I could have been in a very different situation if it was not for you.â
Mr Jacobs laughs, âYes, I must admit saving one from a carriage is a much better play.â
YN shrugged, âAsk away.â
YN was surprised. The conversation, barring the near-death experience, seemed to flow with ease. More often than not, YN found herself laughing. Whilst she loved the conversations that she had with Harry, and she would say that he was her best friend within this world â it was nice to converse with someone who did not necessarily know her.
Whilst it had been nice (as it always is) to play make-believe for a little while, she knew that the second the turn-off for the Styles estate came into view she would have to return to her reality.
YN stopped just at the turning, and Mr Jacobs had not anticipated this as he continued to walk. She cleared her throat, and that was when he stopped and turned around â his eyebrows furrowing at her stopped movements.
âThis is me,â She pointed down the road.
He pointed down the road, âThe Styles estate?â
âYes,â YN nodded, lifting her hand to brush her hair out of her face, âI⌠I am their governess. I work with the Styles children.â
âOh,â Mr Jacobs seemed to relax slightly, âAn honest profession, I must say.â
YN just smiled, âI do appreciate you walking with me, and also not allowing the carriage to run me over.â
Mr Jacobs shook his head, âDo not mention it â I would do it over again if you needed.â
YN opened her mouth but shut it again almost immediately. YN just decided to offer him a smile instead.
âWell, thank you again,â YN pointed down the path, âI must go but I hope you have a good rest of your day.â
Mr Jacobs nodded, âAs I wish you do too,â YN turned and started to walk down the path when his voice called out again, âStay out of the way of any carriages!â
YN could not help the chuckle that left her lips at his words.
The second that YN had returned to the house she had dropped down in the drawing room and stayed there. The house was still silent, letting YN know that neither the children nor Mr Styles were back at the house, and surprisingly to her YN was thankful for that.
Near-death experience aside, YN had enjoyed herself. It was always a pleasure to see Miss Francis (even though she enjoyed meddling more than anything) but the real shock of the day had been her walk and subsequent conversation with Mr Jacobs.
The issue that YN found herself in was that the bridge between her thoughts and her reality had started to merge. From one conversation YN could not presume that she was going to marry the man and she was certainly in no place to do that â but she could not say that the prospect was not there.
YN could have been sat there for an hour, or maybe even five by the time that she was knocked out of her daydreaming. She had not even heard Harry walk into the room and it was only when he moved to stand in front of her was when she realised that he had returned.
âI have been looking for you everywhere,â He sighed, dropping down on the settee just next to her, âDid you not hear me calling your name?â
âI seem to be doing that a lot lately,â YN sighed, offering him a small smile but saying no more.
Harry furrowed his eyebrows, confused by the state that she was now in which was very different from the one that he had left her in this morning.
âThat was not ominous at all,â Harry stated as though it was the most obvious thing, but YN seemed to be paying no attention, âAre you going to give me an explanation at all?â
âI was nearly hit by a carriage today.â
âWhat?â Harryâs eyes widened, his body immediately leaning towards her, âAre you okay? Were you hurt?â
âNo, no Iâm fine,â YN shook her head, leaning back on the seat she was on, âI am justâŚâ
YNâs sentence trailed off and then she did not say a single thing. Harryâs eyebrows furrowed again, and he decided then that he did not believe her, âAre you sure you were not injured? You did not bang your head or anything?â
âHarry, I did not hit my head!â The exclaimed rather loud, earning a laugh from Harry from across the room, âI am perfectly okay.â
The silence washed over them again. YNâs eyes continued looking forward, out of the window and to where the trees were slightly swaying in the breeze. She could hear the children squealing throughout the rest of the house, and she was reminded that they were probably happy from spending the day with their grandmother.
âHow was your day?â YN asked, still not looking away from the window, âHow did the children enjoy it?â Â
âThey loved it, as they always do,â Harry shrugged off their questioning, âBut, and promise me you will not be angry with me ââ
âHarry, we both know that if you start a sentence with that I am probably going to be angry with you.â
âI know this but still, I have to ask,â Harry sighed, âAre you positive you are okay?â
YN went silent, her hands messing with a loose thread of fabric on her dress. Harry looked at her, still unable to figure out why on earth she was acting so strangely.
âDo you ever think of marriage?â
Harryâs mouth opened once, before shutting again. He then sighed, and then the realisation of what had been said washed over her and her eyes found his.
âHarry, I am so sorry,â YN shook her head, completely unable to understand why on earth she would have said that, âI should not have said that, God, I do not understand why I said it.â
âNo,â Harry shook his head, âI must admit I was a little shocked but do not apologise. My mother had a lot to say about marriage earlier today.â
âShe did?â
Harry nods with a slight shrug of his shoulders, âShe just mentioned how beneficial it would be for Noah and Norah if they had a mother in their lives. And when I say mentioned, I mean brought up every other sentence.â
YN chuckled. She would be lying if she said she did not love Harryâs mother. She was lovely, and just a ray of sunshine. Whilst she had not experienced having a mother in her life, she did have some idea as to what it would have been like to have a meddling mother. She also had the experiences with Miss Francis, and she gathered that it must have been something like that.
âSo, you have considered it?â YN asked, her fingers still pulling on the thread of her dress.
âNo, I would not say that,â Harry shook his head, âI would not say consider, but rather had the idea in my head for a few seconds before removing it altogether.â
YN laughed, âI honestly do not blame you for such.â
âHave youâŚâ Harryâs eyes found her, âThought about it?â
âI do, sometimes,â YN shrugs her shoulders, âI would not say very often but sometimes I find myself doing the same as you. I think about it, and then I remove it from my brain.â
YN laughs, but Harry does not join her. Once she realises her laughter drowns out, she finds herself under his gaze. She should not be so surprised that someone she has lived with for almost two years now knows her so well, but it still shocked her. Just as it had done earlier on in the day, YN found herself unable to stop the increasing of her heart rate. It was silly. He had not even said anything to her, and yet she was completely and utterly a mess under his gaze. It should not be like this, and yet it was.
âIt is not unnatural to think about marriage, YN,â Harry says, and YN can tell that every single word he was saying was sincere and he believed true, âWhilst as your employer I should be saying to you not to marry because my children and I⌠they need you, I cannot in good conscience say that. If marriage is what you wish â then nothing should stop you from doing so. As your friend, I would even go as far as to say that any deserving man would be lucky to have you as his wife.â
YN was silent, taking in his words with nothing but shock swirling around her head. To hear him say those words, as well as the look his face held whilst he said them shook YN to her core.
âHarry IâŚâ YN shook her head, attempting to not focus on the tears that were starting to collect in her waterline and more so on her breathing.
Harry cleared his throat, attempting to mask the awkwardness that now loomed over them, âI apologise if I spoke out of turn, YN.â
âNo, you did not,â YN shook her head, âAnd I appreciate everything you have said, Harry, I truly do but⌠today must have just been a lapse in my judgement. I would be lying if I said that I am not happy here because I truly am.â
YNâs face could not help the smile that crossed her features at the sight of the one across Harryâs lips.
âI truly do not believe that I could have asked for a better life, and you are the one I have to thank for that.â
Harry just nodded, âWhilst as your employer I am more than happy to hear those words, as your friend I am just delighted that I have managed to help you in this way.â
YN smiled, finally feeling as though whatever mood she had found herself in after today had been brushed off. She stood up, her eyes catching Harryâs as she motioned her head towards the door.
âLet us go find your children and get them ready for bed before they terrorise the rest of the staff.â
Harry laughs and stands up, following YN out of the room and towards the sound of childrenâs laughter down the hall.
YEAR THREE
âNoah, it is not appropriate to throw food at your sister,â YN warned from her seat next to Harry.
The little boy did not seem to care about her warnings and continued to load grapes onto his spoon and launch them at his sister.
âNoah,â Harry was the one to warn the little boy this time, âPass me the spoon?â
Harry held his hand out for the spoon. Noah continued to hold the spoon, his eyes darting between his father and the grapes set out in front of him. Harry just raised his eyebrow at his son who sighed and placed the spoon in his fatherâs hand. YN watched as the boy picked up the grape and without his spoon launched it at his sister.
âThat is it, Noah,â Harry shook his head, âIf you carry on with this behaviour you will be staying here instead of going to your Grandmotherâs house tomorrow.â
That was all that the little boy needed to drop the grape that he had picked up and sit up straight in his seat. YN pursed her lips in hopes of suppressing the giggle that was attempting to escape her lips at the childâs antics.
âHow about the two of you go to the classroom and wait for Miss. YN?â Harry asked, a smile present on his lips, âI just need to have a quick word.â
YN nodded, wiping her hands on her napkin, and placing it on the table next to her plate. YN watched with a smile as the children started a race upstairs to the classroom. YN knew that they were going to be a handful today as they always were when they were going to see their grandmother. It was as though the excitement of waiting for tomorrow was too much for them.
âIs something the matter?â YN asked, taking a sip of her tea.
âI had a question to ask you,â Harry started, âIt is about tomorrow.â
âOh,â YN smiled, âDo you mean your birthday? Something about your birthday?â
Harry sighed, shaking his head and the girl giggled. YN knew that Harry did not enjoy his birthday and that made it ever so easy to tease him.
âIt is unfortunately something about my birthday,â Harry sighed, âEven though I am not supposed to know, I do know that my mother is throwing a ball for my birthday tomorrow night. She has tried to for the past few years, and I asked her to wait, and she has.â
âThat should be lovely,â YN smiled, âI have heard from others how enjoyable your motherâs balls are. I hope you have a lovely time, no matter how much you hate it.â
Harry shook his head, knowing that he would be unable to stop the girlâs teasing, âI was wondering whether you wanted to join me? At the ball?â
YNâs eyes widen. That was certainly not what she was expecting him to say. YN thought that she would do what she normally does when Harry and the children go to his motherâs house which was have a day to herself. She honestly would never have thought would be what he was going to say to her, and yet here he was asking her this.
âHarry IâŚâ YN shook her head, âI⌠even if I did, I do not have anything to wear.â
âThat is an easy rectifiable issue,â Harry sighed with a smile on her face, âI will take the children for a few hours this afternoon so that you can go and see Miss Francis.â
âI do not⌠how will she even manage toâŚâ
Harry shook his head, âPlease stop your worrying, there is no need for it. Do not worry about the cost or the timing for I am sure that Miss Francis will be happy to do this for you to attend the ball.â
YN just shook her head, âI shall be so out of place, Harry.â
Harry placed his hand on the table, leaning forward to offer a comforting look, âNo you will not. You will be with me, and I am positive some of your acquaintances from the village shall be there. And even if they are not, it is my birthday, and you are my best friend, and I will not go unless you are there.â
YN sighed and shook her head, âYou will upset your mother by doing that.â
âYou will upset me by not coming,â Harry retorts quickly.
YN sighs, and nods her head, âWill you send word to Miss Francis that I shall be coming to see her later?â
Harry beams a smile at his friend and nods, âI will do so immediately.â
A few hours later YN was standing in front of Miss Francis with an already complete dress on her body. YN was shocked, and confused as to why there was an already complete garment ready for her but then she remembered Miss Francisâ penchant for meddling and the fact that Harry knew that she would not have been able to say no to him.
âWhen Mr Styles sent word of the ball a few weeks or so ago, I knew that this fabric would be perfect for you,â Miss Francis explained as she pinned the hem of the dress for the girl.
YNâs mouth opened in shock as the older womanâs words registered in YNâs head, âI saw you just a week ago to alter my winter dresses and you made no mention of the ball.â
The older womanâs face broke out in a smile, âMr Styles wished for it to remain a secret and who am I not to oblige?â
Even though YN was pretending to be annoyed with the woman, she was sort of pleased that she had only been told about the ball the day before. Whilst the children had known they had been going to their grandmother's for the last few weeks and each day they had become more and more excited, YN would not have experienced that. If YN had found out about the ball at any time before today, she knew that she would have convinced herself not to go. Finding out so late and knowing that a dress had already been made for her â there was no way that she could convince herself not to do so.
âThis gown is truly beautiful, Miss Francis,â YN smiled, âYou truly have outdone yourself.â
âI have said to you all along my dear, if you allowed me to dress you in the latest fashions you could have suitors lining outside the door.â
YN sighed and shook her head. Since YNâs conversation with Harry last year after her near-death experience with a carriage, she had not even thought about marriage. When she had said that she was happy during that conversation â she had truly meant it. She was happy in her current situation, and she would not change it for the world.
But, seeing herself in this dress she would be completely and utterly lying to herself if the thought had not crossed her mind one more time. This could have been her life if things were different â these outfits, and balls could have been her day-to-day life. But, there were balls, and these dresses were now her day-to-day in this life and to her that meant everything.
âI must admit, Miss Francis, I am completely out of my depth with this entire thing.â
Miss Francis just shook her head, âDo not worry, my dear. There is no pressure on you, at all. At most, you will have a few drinks, some sweet, possibly a dance if you are lucky and that is it.â
YN sighed with a chuckle, âGoodness, I have not danced in years.â
Miss Francis placed a comforting hand on YNâs arm, âAs long as you do not stand on your partnersâ feet, I believe you shall be okay.â
âThat is easier said than done, Miss Francis.â
The older woman aided YN out of the gown and into her previous outfit so that she could make the last amendments to her gown.
âIf I were you, every time that you find yourself nervous, or without somebody to talk to I would just remind yourself of why you are there â because Mr Styles is your friend, and he wishes you there.â
YN reached out to grab Miss Francisâ hand and give it a gentle squeeze, âThank you. If anything, I am lucky that you are my friend.â
Miss Francis held up her finger as if to delay that thought for a second and moved into the back room. She came out with a wooden box in hand, unlocked the clasp and passed it to YN.
âThis belonged to my mother. It was a family heirloom of sorts,â Miss Francis explained, âI always thought that I would pass it to my children, but that never came to be. I wish for you to have them, and to wear them tomorrow.â
YN gasped as she opened the box, placing her hand on her chest as she peered at the matching diamond necklace and earrings that were inside. YN had seen the jewellery that many members of society wore, and whilst this was not like that â YN preferred it more. The earrings were modest, with a tiny diamond falling from a gold stud and the necklace matched. It was beautiful, and it was timeless.
âMiss Francis, I do not know what to say,â YN shook her head, âI cannot accept this.â
âYou can, and you will,â The older woman nodded, âYou are the closest thing that I have to a daughter in this world, and this is your first ball, and you deserve to show yourself off.â
YN chuckled through the tears that were collecting in her waterline, shut the box containing the jewels and wrapped her arms around the older lady. Miss Francis laughed in obvious shock at the girlâs antics.
âI do not know how to thank you,â YN muttered into the womanâs shoulder.
âDo not thank me,â Miss Francis shook her head, âJust promise me that you will have a good time and enjoy yourself.â
âI promise,â YN nodded.
YN had never felt more out of place in her entire life.
She knew that the way that she had grown up was different to those in society, but being surrounded by them in the way she was truly allowed YN to realise how much of that was true.
YN did not even know where to begin.
That was how she ended up standing, hovering by the wall as people mingled and danced around her. She had arrived with Harry earlier in the day but had left the family alone to celebrate with each other. Once she had joined the festivities of the ball, she still had not seen the birthday boy. Of course, he could have been anywhere in this room and YN would have missed him entirely due to the amount of people there.
With a sigh, YNâs eyes fluttered around the room until she spotted Harry and his mother walking into the room. YN would be lying if she said that the smile adorned on his face did not cause a matching one on hers. He truly did look happy. His eyes were wide, and his cheeks were red, and YN wondered whether or not he had some liquid courage before joining the party. YN could not blame him and chuckled to herself at the thought.
âMiss YLN,â YN jumped out of her skin slightly at the sound of a voice next to her, but relaxed when she saw that it was only Mr Jacobs, âIs something amusing you?â
âOh, no,â YN shook her head with a small shrug, âJust an amusing thought, that is all.â
Mr Jacobs just hummed, âI must admit, it is nice to see you. When I received the invitation for the evening I did wonder whether or not you were going to make an appearance, and I am happy that you did.â
YN just smiled, dropping her head slightly. She had not seen Mr Jacobs (or thought about him at that) since the almost fatal carriage incident day. It amused YN to no end that had not been the case for Mr Jacobs, and he had thought about her. Maybe she left more of an impression on people than she had thought.
Mr Jacobs looked around the room and cleared his throat, âHow are you enjoying yourself so far?â
YN chuckled again, âI would be withholding the truth if I did not say I am slightly overwhelmed, but, I must admit there has been a lovely turnout to celebrate Mr Stylesâ birthday.â
Mr Jacobs just hummed again, âThat itself is not surprising.â
YNâs eyebrows furrowed in the manâs direction, âAnd why would that be?â
Mr Jacobs lifted the glass he held in his hand up to his lips and shrugged, âI heard that Mrs Styles extended invitations to every eligible lady in the county, as well as a few from London, seeing as though Mr Styles wishes to take a wife.â
YN nearly choked on her spit at his words but attempted to cover it up in hopes of not raising any questions. This was the first that she had heard of this subject. The last time that she and Harry had conversed on this subject he had made it painfully aware that he was not thinking at all of marriage. Of course, that conversation had been almost a year ago and his intentions could have changed since then. The only question that floated around in YNâs brain was â if so, why had he not said anything to her?
âOh,â YN faked a laugh, âWell that does make sense. If Mr Styles wants to marry again, he should ensure that he makes the correct choice.â
Mr Jacobsâ eyebrows furrow, âYou did not know that he was looking for another bride?â
YN lightly shook her head, âI am not shocked, though. I am only his governess, he does not have to discuss such important, personal matters with me.â
âI just thought that since you had been invited to the ball perhaps you were friends,â Mr Jacobs pressed, confusing YN slightly.
âTo a degree, yes,â YN nodded, âBut not to the degree of discussing these matters, I suppose.â
Mr Jacobs nodded, finished his drink, and placed his glass down on the table behind them. YN had hoped by that point their conversation would be over, and she could go back to watching the room â but that was not to be the case. YN was admittingly shocked when Mr Jacobs extended his hand out before her.
âMiss YLN,â He spoke, a small smile etching across his features, âWould you do me the honour of joining me in the next dance?â
âOh,â YN shook her head, âThank you, Mr Jacobs but I will have to politely refuse â I have not danced since I was a child.â
âWell,â Mr Jacobs shrugged, âTo me, it seems there is no time like the present to start again.â
YN watched from over his shoulder as other couples began to migrate to the dancefloor. Exhaling a nervous breath, YN nodded and placed her hand into Mr Jacobsâ. He led her towards the dancefloor, and they somehow ended up directly in the middle. Her eyes fluttered to the left and the right of her before they settled directly in front. Mr Jacobs offered her a smile, and that was seemingly all it took for her nerves to dissipate almost completely.
The music started, and they danced.
What YN could not see as she moved around the room, her hand tightly placed in Mr Jacobs was the two eyes watching her from across the room. Harry had been speaking to one of the many ladies that his mother had invited without his knowledge (he will remember this for next time) when he saw them. There was not a possible way that he could have missed her. When he had instructed Miss Francis to make her a dress, he knew that the older woman would succeed at making it beautiful but the only word that seemed to stand out in his head was breathtaking.
Harry tried to listen to the conversation he was in, but he could not. The only thing he could pay attention to was how she floated around the dance floor. She was smiling, an indication to him that she was enjoying herself. At one point he even saw her share a laugh with Mr Jacobs, a man that Harry knew of but not very well. A wave of longing washed over him, a longing for that to have been him.
âMr Styles!â A voice called from the side of him, âMr Styles?â
âHmm?â He hummed, turning back to the lady who had grown impatient at the expense of his distraction, which was now finishing thankfully.
âI asked whether or not you enjoyed dancing?â
Harryâs eyes caught YN walking over towards the refreshment table, alone, and he saw this as his opportunity. He excused himself from the lady, who stood there in shock and watched as he walked away. Harry made a beeline for the refreshment table, ignoring any calls of his name the entire way there.
YN had just picked up a glass to take a sip when she felt someone beside her. She turned, saw that it was Harry and smiled â only for that smile to drop when she saw the expression on his face. The once smiley Mr Styles had been replaced with a look of sadness. It concerned YN to no end.
âHarry?â She dropped the drink back down on the table, âIs everything okay?â
He sighed, âI require some air. Would you care to join me?â
YN just nodded, knowing that he was probably wanting to talk to her more than have some air. Saying that, the room was quite stuffy with the amount of bodies occupying it so she would not be shocked. She followed him through the house until they could slip out of the back door. There was a chill in the air, seeing as though it was February, but that was not the important thing right now.
YN stood by the door, hoping to guard herself from the child slightly as she watched Harry pace in front of her. With each step, she grew more concerned for the man.
âYou are worrying me now, Harry,â She started, her voice turning to a slight plead, âWould you please tell me what is wrong?â
Harry sighed and stopped his pacing before turning and walking so he was standing just a few feet from the girl.
âIf you wish to marry Mr Jacobs then you should do so.â
YN feels as though all of the air has been sucked out of her body. Her heart begins to beat uncontrollably â the only sound she can hear is her heartbeat throughout her body. Out of everything that she thought he was going to say, that had certainly not been it. She could not even imagine why it had made him act in this way.
âHarry, IâŚâ YN shook her head, unable to hold back her laugh, âThat is⌠I had not even⌠I only danced with the man Harry.â
Harry shook his head, âI need you to know that if you wish to marry him, then you should.â
YN laughed again, âHarry you are being preposterous! You cannot just go around saying things such as that! But, seeing as though you have said such things, I would like to reiterate all of the information which you already know â I am happy just as I am, with you and with the children.â
Harry sighs, âYou do not have to lie to me, YN. I can take the truth.â
âBy this display of emotions Harry I find that very hard to believe,â She shakes her head once more, âAnd even so, I am not lying to you. I merely offered a dance, and I accepted and whilst I do not have the most experience with balls â I have gathered that this is something that usually happens at them!â
Harryâs eyes narrowed at YN once more, and that is when she noticed that his chest was heaving just as much as hers was. The more that they were standing staring at each other, the more confused YN became. That all came to a head when Harry turned and walked away from her, walking into the house without a single second look at her.
YN watched him as he walked away, and she was overwhelmed with the want to cry. She took a deep breath, lifting her hand to rest a hand on her chest in an attempt to calm her breathing. YN took a few steps away from the house so that she could rest against the wall surrounding the steps, the chill in the air the last of the worries.
YN sighed, lifting her hand to her forehead in hopes that would help regain even an ounce of or so of calm again. It was no use though as all she could think about was Harry, and what was the reason behind his sudden outburst of emotion.
âOh, Miss YLN,â YN lifted her head at the sound of her name, âAre you quite alright?â
There was a part of YN that wanted to groan slightly at the fact that Mr Jacobs had somehow found her even admits the festivities. Instead of groaning, however, YN, found herself offering him a smile.
âI am fine,â She nodded, âJust needed a breath of fresh air.â
Mr Jacobs nodded, approaching where she was sitting on the wall. She did feel bad for the man, seeing as though he was the cause of so much turmoil and yet he had no idea of it. At the end of the day, Mr Jacobs had technically done nothing wrong, and she could not blame the man for something that was between herself and Harry.
He dropped down on the wall with an adequate space next to her and ran his hands over his trousers, âI did wish to ask you something after our dance, before I realised you had disappeared.â
YN just nodded, âOf course, Mr Jacobs.â
âI do not wish for you to read too far into this, Miss YLN, but I do enjoy your company,â Mr Jacobs started, âAnd, even though I had wanted to do this the last time I saw you I knew it would be inappropriate, but now I do not think the same.â
âMr Jacobs, you do not have to justify yourself to me,â YN offered him a small smile, âPlease, ask whatever it is you would like.â
Mr Jacobs nodded, âWould you care to join me for a promenade tomorrow?â
For the second time in a short period, YN found herself short of breath. She could not believe how these declarations were coming one after the other.
YN knew that if she lingered on the thought too much she would lose herself or talk herself out of it. She supposed, in deciding for herself for once she nodded her head at Mr Jacobs.
âI would very much like that.â
YEAR FOUR
âDo you think Father is scared of bees, Miss YN?â Noah asked, holding YNâs hand as they walked back towards the house.
YN shrugged her shoulders slightly, âI do not know, Noah, you should ask him yourself.â
The little boy nodded, âI do not wish for them to sting me, but I would not say that I am scared of them â not like Norah is.â
The little girlâs head perked up at the sound of her name, âI am not afraid! I just do not like them very much.â
YN chuckled at the discussion between the small children. They both pulled away from YN once they reached the steps to the house, turning it into a race just as they did with everything. Sighing, YN followed them up the steps slightly slower than they had done. Once she stepped inside the house, she saw both children standing in the doorway of the sitting room with shocked expressions on their faces.
âWhat is it?â YN questioned, turning to look at what both of the children were staring at. She stopped in her tracks at what it was.
Sitting on the settee was both Harry and Mr Jacobs. YN could not figure out the expression that Harryâs face held, but she could see that Mr Jacobs seemed to be one of happiness. YN placed a hand on the back of the childrenâs shoulders.
âWhy donât you both get yourself cleaned up for supper?â She smiled, ushering the children out of the room before she stepped inside.
YN stayed standing up just by the door as she watched the uncomfortable air that seemed to be passing between the two men. In all honesty, YN believed that this was probably the first time that they had met properly. They had both been a topic of conversations with YN but had never spoken directly. It caused YNâs stomach to twist.Â
YN had agreed to meet Mr Jacobs the day after the ball mainly to spite Harry, and the words that he had shared with her just a few moments before. What she had been surprised by was the amount she had enjoyed herself. Their walks had been few and far between over the past year or so, as YN would not have let herself forget the real reason she was there in the first place â and that was the children. She could tell that Mr Jacobs had wished for more, but she was unable to give him that. In all honesty, she did not know whether she wanted to give him that.
She had not expected him to show up at her house, though.
âMr Jacobs,â YN greeted with a small smile, âIt is lovely to see you.â
âAs it is for you, Miss YLN.â
YNâs eyes flickered between Harry and Mr Jacobs, âMay I ask the reason for your visit?â
Harry cleared his throat and stood up, looking at YN with an unreadable expression on his face, âHe is here to ask you a question, YN. Or really, to ask me whether it is agreeable for me if he was to ask for your hand in marriage.â
YN gasped. Out of everything that Harry could have said, she had not expected that. Whilst it had shocked her, there was another feeling present that YN couldnât quite put her finger on.
With a slight drop of her head she looked towards Harry, âMr Styles, would you mind leaving the room?â
The second YN said those words, she regretted it. The expression on Harryâs face had gone from unreadable to pained, and she knew that she was the cause of this. She hoped that he would not let himself get too worked up over this. Whilst YN had no idea as to how this would play out, she had hoped that Harry would have a little more faith in her than to just abandon him in this way.
With a nod, Harry nodded and walked past her to leave the room. The door shut behind him, and she was finally alone with Mr Jacobs. That was when she realised the other emotion that was swirling within her â it was anger.
âMiss YLN,â Mr Jacobs stood up, âI had hoped that I would be able toâŚâ
YN shook her head and held her hand out so that he knew not to take a step closer to her, âI do not want to hear it, Mr Jacobs.â
He stopped in his tracks, his eyebrows furrowing at her words, âMiss YLN, if I have done something to offend you ââ
âYou have,â YN nodded, unable to hold back her anger, âYou have offended me, Mr Jacobs. You have offended me by coming to my place of employment to ask for my hand in marriage instead of coming to me.â
âYou have avoided me for weeks, Miss YLN,â Mr Jacobs responds, his tone turning stern, âOf course, I had wished to speak to you first, but I was unable to do so.â
âSo you thought your best course of action was to show up here and what?â YN sighed, laughing slightly at the absurdness of the entire situation, âAsk Harry for my hand in marriage?â
âI only wished to askâŚâ Mr Jacobs stopped in his tracks, his expression changing once more, âHarry?â
YN shakes her head, even more confused, âWhat?â
âYou call Mr Styles by his first name?â Mr Jacobs presses once more.
YN scoffs a laugh, âYes I do, Mr Jacobs, but I do not see how that is your business.â
âI think it is,â Mr Jacobs nods, âSeeing as though he is your employer, and you call him by his first name.â
âYes,â YN nods, âMy employer who is also my friend, and has been for the past four years.â
Mr Jacobs scoffs, âI should have known. I should have known when you were at the ball, even more so when you refused to join me on promenades, and this has just made it even more apparent.â
YN shook her head, âMade what even more apparent?â
âThat your affections lie with Mr Styles, or Harry is it?â
YN could not believe what she was hearing. It angered her more so than she thought anything ever could. The audacity of this man to say such a thing â make such a claim when he did not the extent of the accusations that he was making.
âI think it is time for you to take your leave, Mr Jacobs,â YN stated coldly.
âNo,â Mr Jacobs shakes his head, placing his hands upon his hips, âNot until I receive my answer from you.â
âI think my asking of you to leave is answer enough.â
Mr Jacobs sighs, âWill you not at least give me a reason as to why?â
âI said leave!â
âI will not,â YN was surprised at the level at which Mr Jacobs raised his voice, âYou have no authority to order me out of this house.â
That was when the door opened and Harry stepped in, the look on his face matching Mr Jacobs in anger.
âThat is where you are wrong, Mr Jacobs,â Harry speaks calmly, âThis is just as much Miss YLNâs house as it is mine, and if she does not wish for you to be here anymore then you should leave. If you refuse, well that is when I shall step in â and I have no qualms in physically removing you from the property.â
Mr Jacobs looks at YN one last time before scoffing and practically storming out of the room. Once she hears the front door from the side of them slam shut, YN thankfully knows that she is in all clear. It takes all of a few seconds before she breaks down, the tears streaming down her face involuntarily.
âOh, YN,â Harry takes one look at her shaking body, and he is there, wrapping his arms around her shaking body. The pressure of his body against hers was all she needed to collapse, her legs giving way and her body falling to the ground.
Harry is there to catch her, pulling her body even closer to his. Her hands grasp at the lapel of his jacket, hoping that would give her even an ounce of relief.
âHarry,â She gasps, the tears still streaming down her face, âI am so sorry.â
Harry shook his head, resting his cheek against the top of her head, âYou have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing at all.â
YN was sitting at the front of the classroom, the complete silence in the room offering an inch of comfort to YN after a difficult few days.Â
She was not necessarily one who thought that silent reading time was the best for the children, but she had no other option. The past few days she had not been herself, and unfortunately whilst she had tried to not let it affect her work â there was unfortunately no way that it would not.
YN was staring out of the window when the door opened, replacing the silence in the room with footsteps that could only belong to one person. It was at that point that YN realised that the children had not been reading, and instead had been occupying themselves in other ways. The pencil that Noah had been attempting to balance on his face fell off and clattered to the ground the second his father made an entrance into the room, and Norah dropped the hair that she had been attempting to colour with her crayons.
âNoah, Norah,â Harry addressed his children, âHow about you go and find the cook. From what I have heard, she has a plate of treats waiting for you both.â
The childrenâs faces broke out into smiles, and they bounded past their father, the two of them making it a competition as they did. YN sighed, offering Harry a small smile as he closed the door to the classroom. It was the first time that the two of them had been alone since the incident occurred and YN supposed that was not for a lack of trying on Harryâs part â more so that YN had been avoiding him.
âI know what you are here to discuss, and I fear we cannot,â YN shook her head, watching as Harry leant against the childrenâs desk and crossed his arms over his face.
âWe can,â Harry nodded, âYou cannot avoid me forever, seeing as though we live in the same house, and you are the governess to my children. And more importantly, you are my friend.â
YN sighed, âThere is nothing to say, Harry. We both know what happened, and I believe the best thing for us to do is move on as though nothing has happened.â
âBut we both know that is not the case,â Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair, âI know that you think the best thing for us to do is ignore the situation, YN, but we cannot.â
YN sighs and nods her head, âVery well, then. Say what you need to.â
Harry sighed and stood up, taking a step closer to YN from over the desk, âDid you want to?â
âDid I what?â YN offered him a puzzled expression.
âWant to marry him?â Harry asks, âMr Jacobs?â
YN sighed and almost immediately shook her head, âNo. I did not. If I had, I would have accepted his hand right then and there. I have told you time and time again, Harry, I am happy just where I am.â
Harry nodded, starting to pace up and down in front of her just as he had the night of the ball. If he was not careful, she would not be surprised if a scuff mark appeared on the floor from his shoes.
Harry stopped directly in front of her and nodded again, âThen marry me.â
YNâs eyes widen. Whilst the last proposal she was shocked and appalled by â this one, she was just shocked. YN could not even believe that those words had just come out of Harryâs lips, and more so that it was directed at her.
âHarry,â YN addressed with a laugh and a shake of her head, âYou cannot mean that.â
âBut I do,â He nodded, walking around the table so that he was directly in front of the chair that she was sitting in, âI do mean it.â
YN scoffed, âI understand if you are upset with what happened with Mr Jacobs but Harry, what you are saying is preposterous.â
âIt is not,â Harry shakes his head, dropping down so he is at eye level with the girl, âI know that you wish to marry, YN, and I am saying â let that person be me.â
âHarryâŚâ
YNâs eyes start to fill with tears, even more so when he reaches forward to grab her hands, âI know that I need to marry, and I know that somewhere, deep down you would like to. We are already acquainted, and I would definitely say that we are friends and I already know that the children like you. I mean â it makes perfect sense to me.â
YN sighed, beginning to shake her head again, âNo, Harry you do not mean that.â
âBut I do,â He nods his head, his eyes never leaving hers, âI do not think I have ever meant anything more in my life. I lovâŚâ Harryâs eyes widen at his words and then he shakes his head, âI appreciate you more than anything, YN. You have changed my life and my childrenâs lives for the better. We do not have to care about what society may think, all we have to care about we think. Let me change your life.â
YN opened her mouth, but no words came out. She was truly and honestly in a state of shock.
#governess!yn#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles au#harry styles angst#harry styles fic#harry styles fanfic#harry styles smut#harry styles x you#harry styles x reader#harry styles x yn#harry styles one shot#harry styles writing#harry styles fluff#harry styles imagine#harry styles#harry styles series#harry styles historical fic
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THE DRIVE- L. HOWLETT
Pairing- Older! Logan x Mutant! Fem! Reader (Enemies to Lovers)
Word Count: 2.6k (an introduction to the series)
Summary: After being put on the goverments watchlist for being an "unsafe" mutant, Logan 'jumps' (tackles) to the rescue, taking you to the X-Mansion. However, you and Logan do not get along... at all.
Warnings: mentions of violence and guns, swearing, logan and y/n not getting along, crying, reader kinda thristing over logan (as one does)
**authors note/ things to note: this may not be lore accurate/ canon because i haven't watched the x-men movies since i was younger, so its roughly based off what i can kinda remember hehe. y/n has jean greys powers, and jean does not exist in this universe, this is nemies to lovers- but a slowww burn :)
"all this sympathy is just a knife, why I can't even grit my teeth and lie? ifeel all these feelings i can't control..."- sympathy is a knife, charli xcx
âI donât like you.â you stated plainly, crossing your arms with a huff. This was the most blunt you had been with anyone, ever. But you couldnât help it.
You had known Logan Howlett now for an hour, and it was an hour you would never get back.
âYouâre not sâpossed to like me kid. Youâre supposed to listen to me, which youâre failing miserably at.â the older man growled, barely looking over at you from the driver's seat. His hands tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles turning white as he slammed down on the gas.
You were thankful in that moment seatbelts were invented.
You bet ten dollars Logan was around when they came up with the idea.
He was an asshole.
He was tasked with the mission to get you to safety- as you were a ârogueâ quote on quote mutant as the public called your kind. It made your head spin, not only from Loganâs driving but the sheer weight of it all.
One morning you were pouring your orange juice, the next the national guard was surrounding your house, and a man who happened to have claws shoot out of his knuckles had dived and tackled you as the gunfire started.
Now you were here, in an old rusty truck- speeding down a back road through the woods with an old man who seemed to hate everything. On the run, on your way to the mutant academy- to start over, and to learn how to control your powers.
Or so you hoped.
Logan wasnât making the trip there very pleasant though.
âIâm listening to you. And even if I wasnât- do you blame me?! After what just happened I donât know- maybe an hour ago?!â you rolled your eyes, glaring at him hard enough to leave laser beams through his skin.
âYouâre a mutant. Get used to it.â
âGet used to it?!â
He shrugged. âThatâs what I said, ainât it bub? I was tasked to take care of you and get you to safety, so Iâm doing that. Doesnât mean you have to like me.â
You huffed, staring out the window at the trees that blurred together, dark leaves falling on the ground as you whipped by. âI donât like you.â
âYeah, I picked up on that kid.â
âIâm not a kid, you know.â
He snorted, running a hand through his tousled hair. âSure.â It was silent in the car for a few minutes, minus the crackly radio, the station starting to cut out as you ventured deeper into the woods.
You leaned forward, turning it off. Silence.
âSo⌠are you actually two hundred?â you asked meekly, darting your eyes over to stare at him. Even if he was a dick, he was handsome as hell. You couldnât even deny that.
âDonât you know itâs rude to ask someone their age?â he mocked.
âSorry, I forgot elders were sensitive to that kind of thing. Let me know if you need help getting your walker from the back.â you snapped back, as he showed teeth at you- growling.
Good. Piss him off as much as you could, so when you got to the academy he would leave you alone.
He muttered something under his breath, something about how kids these days have no respect (despite you very much not being a child), and you tuned out.
With a sigh, you leaned your head against the window, the events of today taking a toll on your body. You looked up at the clouds rolling by, until they faded away to black.
------------------------------------------------------
Strong arms carried you, and you curled into the warmth they provided, hands clinging to a rock hard chest. You yawned, savouring the rocking motion, until it stopped.
Your eyes fluttered open, blinking quickly as you adjusted to the dimming light. It was dark out, stars replacing the clouds from earlier- and two dark orbs stared at you intensely.
You squeaked, stumbling down to your feet, backing away from Logan quickly.
âGood morning.â he smirked at your sudden reaction, your frown lines deeply etched in your forehead compared to how they were a few seconds previous.
âWhat are you doing?!â
âWalking you to our room.â
Your eyes nearly popped out of your head.
âOur room?! And I can walk by myself, thank you very much.â He snorted, jangling the keys in his pocket. âReally? I didnât know you could sleep walk.â
âDonât be a dick.â
âCanât. Already tried.â he said, unlocking the door with a click. 106 was scrawled across the wooden door, and the strong smell of lemon cleaning supplies nearly suffocated you as he stepped inside.
He must have stopped at a motel somewhere along the route- in the middle of nowhere. It was older, not as old as him- but aged. It must have been quiet, you assumed- because Logan didnât seem like the type of guy to willingly choose to be around people, especially not when on the run.
As shitty as the situation was, you were thankful for a place to sleep, and for a proper bed. The car seatbelt and window was not very comfortable, your neck aching from it rolling down during your nap.
You stepped inside, noting the very obvious couples room, a large bed in the middle of the room, with no pull out couch. You gulped.
âIâll take the floor.â you stated, as he closed and locked the door behind you. Unease lingered in your stomach.
Please god, do not make me sleep with the Wolverine. I do not have the strength, nor patience today.
âDonât be stupid girl.â And that was that. He shrugged off his jacket, tossing it on a little table, flickering on a little side lamp.
You were stunned into silence. You tried so hard not to look.
So. Damn. Hard.
But his muscles were on display, so much so they might as well be their own art exhibit.
His white tank top clinged to his tan skin tightly, and you watched his muscles flex, dog tags jangling on his chest as he snagged a pillow from the bed and tossed it on the floor.
You quickly looked away before he caught you staring, and taunted you for it.
âIâm going to shower.â
No reply. You bit your lip, turning around quietly and tugged your skirt down as you walked in the bathroom and shut the door.
No amount of scrubbing of the shit hotel loofa could get the grime of the day off your skin- soap foaming as quickly as it sputtered down the drain. You tried to stay in the shower as long as you could- dreading the awkwardness that the night would entail- but soon the water turned ice cold.
Shivering, you rinsed off your hair, cranking the taps until water dripped faintly. Wiping the mirror, you stared at yourself in the reflection.
A long scratch darted up your neck, little ones dotting across your arm. You wished you had Loganâs healing abilities. They were ugly, harsh and jagged- standing out like a sore thumb.
You hoped your pjs covered it, you thought, as you wrapped a thin towel across your body, acting as a corset the way it caused your breasts to pop.
Then it hit you. You didnât have pjs. You didnât have anything but the clothes on your back (bathroom floor).
Fuck. Could this get any worse?
Not only did you have to sleep in the same room as Logan, you had to ask him for clothes?! Taking a deep breath, you opened the door a sliver, its loud creak echoing throughout the entire room.
âUh⌠Logan?â
âMhgm.â
You poked your head out, eyes darting to survey the space- seeing your bed untouched, long legs poking out from the other end on the floor.
âI- uh.. kinda forgot pjs.â
Nothing, and then a loud laugh emerged from him, his body shaking from the sheer sound of it. âCourse you did kid. Here.â he tossed a black t-shirt your way, and it landed on the carpet with a plop.
It would be massive on you, you could already tell- but it was something. Usually you had to go on a few dates and sleep with a guy a few times before you got to this stage. Not an option this time.
You quickly stepped out and grabbed it before he could look up at your (barely) covered body, shrugging it on in the bathroom.
It smelt like him, like whisky and smoke, cider and fresh cut grass. It was comforting, in this moment of chaos. You breathed in the fabric, resting your head against the wall.
Your lip wobbled, hot, salty tears slipping down your cheeks as you gasped for air.
It hurt. Everything hurts.
You were exhausted, hungry and more anxious and overwhelmed than anything. The shock had started to fade, your hands had started to shake and you couldnât help but break down.
You didnât care if Logan heard you. The tears continued to fall, body heaving as sobs tore through your body. How was life so unfair? So cruel? Things had changed so fast- and you hadnât asked for your abilities. You didnât even know how to control them yet.
But that was what made you dangerous to the government. You thought, growing even more angry with yourself. But how was it your fault?
It made you sick. You just wanted to go home, lay in your own bed and eat your own food, to see your friends and go to work. You never thought those words would leave your lips- but it was true. It was routine, and it was normal.
You felt normal, when you were filing paperwork, talking on the phone to clients. As boring as it could be at times, it was steady.
And now?
You were bouncing around like a ping-pong ball. A coin had been flipped, your fate plastered on either side- and you had lost the draw. Taking a shaky breath, you attempted to regain your composure before facing the judgemental beast outside.
Your eyes were puffy, cheeks sticky and warm with drying tears. Wiping your face, you found the courage to slink back into the main room, flicking off the side lamp Logan had left on. If he had to shower, he could find his way in the dark.
You were sure he could see in the dark- all wolves could- couldnât they?
Slouching into bed, you gripped the thin sheets tightly- cocooning yourself to try and stay warm. The air was on full blast, despite it being chill outside- and you assumed you had Logan to thank for that.
Great. Iâm going to get hypothermia before I even get to the fucking school.
âDo you have to have the air on full blast?â you asked, looking over the side of the bed, watching as Logan crankly peered an eye open.
âYes.â
âWell could you I donât know, survey the scene and see itâs cold outside already?â
He huffed.
âIâm warm. Iâm always warm.â
âWell thatâs not my problem. Be considerate wolf.â you rolled your eyes, hugging the sheets tighter to your body.
âDeal with it kid. Itâs staying on- if you donât like it, sleep outside.â
Well that made you sit up.
âYouâre such a dick.â
âYeah getting a motel room and letting you have the bed- real dick move eh?â
You huffed, gritting your teeth together. This man was pushing your buttons more than they had ever been pushed before. You hated how much he got under your skin. It was like you had your own set of claws, that only he could set off.
âWell I shouldnât even be in this situation.â
âYeah we all think that. Shut up and sleep.â he growled, rolling over to face away from the bed.
âYou could at least have some respect.â
That was all you asked for, anyways. You had shown him it even when you were in deaths way, thankful for him for saving you. He didnât show an ounce of it back.
âIâm not giving you any sympathy, if thatâs what your asking.â
It felt like a knife had stabbed you in the back, twisting your insides. You whipped up again, throwing a pillow at his face.
âIâm not asking for your fucking sympathy you old piece of shit!â you yelled, earning nothing but silence in return.
He was over you.
Fine. You could do the exact same thing- but better.
Turning your back to him (a dangerous thing to do, you thought), you squeezed your eyes shut and listened to the hum of the air conditioning unit.
Not long after, the weight of the day pulled you back under the waves of sleep again.
--------------------------------------------------
âWake up kid.â a gruff voice called out to you, a firm hand shaking you. You awoke with a start, blinking until the room came into focus.
Two beaded eyes stared at you narrowly from above you, rolling as you mumbled. It was still dark out, as no light showed through the thin curtains.
The clock read 5:00 and you sighed.
âBreakfast on the table. Get dressed and weâre leaving.â
âGood morning to you too.â you grumbled, rubbing sleep out of your eye. A very stale looking muffin sat on the table, next to Loganâs black coffee.
âWhy are you feeding me?â you asked, walking over to take a dry bite. You were famished. Eating anything completely slipped your mind.
âBecause Charles would kill me if I didnât. I said Iâd look after you. You canât starve.â
âJeez I thought that was the plan all along.â
It tasted like sand in your mouth as you took a bite. You were grateful for it, nonetheless. âI never said I wanted you to starve.â he grumbled to himself, taking a long sip from his mug.
âIt was heavily implied.â you spat, turning over the mini coffee bar, finding a kettle and a bag of earl grey. You waited for the water to come to a boil, the kettle screaming at you while you poured it.
You were ready for this day to be over and it hadnât even begun yet. You had a feeling you would have to get used to it- or else it would eat you alive.
Just like how Logan looked right now- like heâd tear your limbs from you and chew them. You wouldnât put it past him.
âWhen you finish that weâre leaving. You got five minutes.â he said, grabbing the truck keys from the table. âFive minutes? I havenât even had a chance to wake up yet!â
âToo bad. We gotta go kid.â He slammed the door hard behind him, rattling the frame as he unlocked the vehicle.
âDonât let the door hit you on the way out, asshole.â you mumbled under your breath, chugging down the rest of your tea as fast as you could. If you were back home you would have the morning to lounge around in a bathrobe, sipping your tea slowly with a book and some fresh fruit.
The odd time you would use your powers to move the toast to the toaster, or to move your slippers to your feet. But that was no longer the case.
The tea tasted bitter as you chugged it, burning your throat. You shrugged on yesterday's clothes, running into the bathroom to splash cold water on your face.
The front door swung open and before Logan could protest- you bolted out the room. âIâm out, Iâm out. Jesus.â Scrambling to the front seat, you watched as Logan glared over his shoulder, slamming the door.
It was going to be an extremely long drive.
#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett#wolverpoolwol#wolverine#the x men#x men#hugh jackman#x men origins: wolverine#wolverine fanfiction#wolverine fic#logan howlett smut#james logan howlett#logan howlett fanfiction#hugh jackman fanfic#hugh jackman smut#logan howlett x you#logan howlett imagine#logan james howlett#deadpool 3
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I just talked about why people should be engaging critically with entertainment media and specifically getting used to identifying specific patterns or rhetoric, so here is a very non-exhaustive list of things that I see (including in ostensibly progressive entertainment media spaces like fandom or queer books):
Framing representative democracy as bad, especially when contrasted with non-democratic/autocratic or anocratic rule (e.g., "good things can get done when there's just someone smart with all the power who can force decisions through without having to debate all the time")
Benevolent dictators / benevolent autocrats (e.g., "They're such a kind and intelligent ruler, so it's good that they have absolute decision making authority")
Blaming newcomers / immigrants for the degredation of traditions (e.g., "It's not that we don't want them here, it's just that they keep trying to change things instead of learning the ways we do things")
Imperialism as a means to "fix" or "improve" other societies (e.g., "they oppress women, so invading them, deposing their goverment, and adding them to the empire is good because it will help women")
Equating gender with body parts (e.g., "secondary gender" to indicate alpha / beta / omega in the omegaverse)
Equating body parts with personality traits (e.g., alphas being inherently more aggressive and omegas being inherently more submissive in the omegaverse)
Equating sexuality with personality traits (e.g., all asexual characters being shy or quiet)
Equating sexuality with gender (e.g., all asexual characters being female or non-binary)
Lack of accounting for women or queer people in worldbuilding (e.g., "that magical species just doesn't have gay people")
Regularly having Jewish characters celebrate Christmas
Excusing abusive behavior with a bad or sad backstory (e.g., "how could he help being fascist, he was bullied as a child")
Women (except for the FMC and possibly a friend) being uniformly catty, cruel, power-hungry, man-obsessed, and/or promiscuous adulterers
Black characters only existing to support white characters
Black female characters being presented as being too strong and independent to want or need a romantic relationship, especially while white female characters have happy and fulfilling romantic relationships
Associating low empathy with violent inclinations or behavior (e.g., "he just didn't feel empathy for anyone, and that's why he became a serial killer")
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Faversham Nightingales:
An Academic Exploration by Petunia Heartsease Mannerwell.
In "Faversham Nightingales," author P.H. Mannerwell offers a profound examination of social dynamics at the turn of the century, focusing on orphan girls and illegitimate daughters compelled into roles as maids, housekeepers, and governesses. This scholarly work delves into the intricate web of secrecy and societal pressures surrounding the illegitimate offspring of the eliteâfigures whose very existence was often cloaked in mystery to protect the reputations of their influential progenitors.
Set against the backdrop of the notorious Faversham Academy in Riverdale County, Mannerwell critically analyzes the intersection of gender, class, and power. The book sheds light on the systemic marginalization of these young women and the pervasive culture of silence that sought to contain their stories of identity and resilience.
Through meticulous research and compelling narrative, "Faversham Nightingales" uncovers the hidden histories of women navigating a patriarchal society, offering insights into the mechanisms of social control and the quiet resistance of those relegated to the periphery. This work is essential reading for those interested in gender studies, social history, and the enduring impact of societal norms on individual lives.
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#ITOLDYou! #Podcast S2 E8! Only #Americans can #SaveAmerica! The #Media, the #Biden #WhiteHouse, the #Government, etc. wonât save US from #Trumpâs wrath.
#WATCH https://youtu.be/9LebxC385CU
#Read https://halflifecrisis.com/hlc-articles/is-anybody-coming-to-save-the-usa-no⌠This #episode tells you what we can do #together as the #USA!
#half life crisis#baqueroalvarez#authoritarianism#propaganda#trump#politics#author#crazy#wilfulignorance#save america#trump lost#donald trump#fuck trump#trump 2024#president trump#trump administration#gop#maga#president donald trump#tariffs#billionaire#elon musk#elonmusk#harris#government#goverment jobs#trump is a threat to democracy#trump is a criminal#trump is the enemy of the people#trump is guilty af
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The Other Woman [Michael Corleone x Reader Multichapter, 18+ Smut] Chapter 6 â Star-crossed.
Read on AO3 / Read Chapter 5 / Chapter Masterlist / Fanfic Playlist.
18+, explicit smut read.
"Theyâre the Corleones. Their name, reputation, image? Yeah, they make that shine at those galas, and they do it wellâlet me tell you that.â / âThis is my gala, my hotel. It belongs to me, and now⌠so do you.â
Invited to your first, formal social outing with the Corleones, you travel to Las Vegas with the family--meeting Fredo, Deanna and experiencing the luxuries of one of the many resort-casinos the Corleones own. It's at the banquet that you come across unwanted guests, somehow tied to the Corleone family and very much your own that bring a terrifying revelation to you, now questioning how the Corleone family you know could have criminal ties. Under Michael's protection and reassurance, you find that to not be your only surprise for tonight, claimed by your darkest fantasy, Michael's neediness and his demand to have you all to himself tonight behind his family's back for the first time.
[WARNINGS]: Loss of virginity, oral sex, vaginal sex, heavy touching/fondling, cheating/affairs.
[CHAPTER REQUESTS]: Michael getting jealous of Marina / Michael and Marina share an intimate moment gazing into each other's eyes @nomorekerkanymor / Soft Michael putting jewelry on Marina / Michael calling Marina pet names / A man puts moves on Marina before Michael confesses his desires to her and Michael gives Marina a subtle, possessive claiming lecture in his office.
[AUTHOR'S NOTE]: The 6th chapter of The Other Woman is FINALLY here!! đââď¸đ After such a long hiatus which was the result of an everchanging, busy life schedule and a lot of writer's block, I promised and I delivered! 44 pages or 18.6k words and the delicious, hot and heavy, scandalous first sex scene to top it all of finally in here to break the ice and that sexual tension I built up between Michael and Marina for so long. 𼾠Beyond thrilled to share this chapter with you guys as things are definitely changing in The Other Woman and going to get even more dramatic and smut filled!

Hired by the Corleone family as a governess, you relocate to the Lake Tahoe family compound, looking forward to your future in Nevada until you meet your employerâMichael Corleone. Your future is then ensnared only in lust and forbidden love for Michael since the beginning, and you find yourself yearning for a married man you can never have. Desire and passion clash with one another as Michael takes you to be his mistressâonly having an exclusive sexual relationship with you while his sex life with Kay dies out. Knowing from the beginning youâll never truly be with Michael and that your place in his life is worlds apart from Kayâs as the other woman, the love you have for him consumes you until it threatens to burn out everything youâve ever had with Michael.
Lake Tahoe Compound.
Standing just shy of the morning sunlight shining through the bedroom window, Michael Corleoneâs eyes are fixated out on the compound as his fingers work to tie a silk, black tie; having changed into his Diupiani grey, silk suit after breakfast with everyone in the courtyard of his and Kayâs estate.
The remainder of this Friday morning will be dedicated to everyone preparing for the gala in Las Vegas tonight until the return to Lake Tahoe on Saturday afternoon.
Michael has no particular feelings about the gala; only that he anticipates nothing but business and the opportunity against his will to see many of his business colleagues get intoxicated and handsy with cocktail waitresses as Michael and Tom run their numbers and strictly remain on topics of work and business.
The gala is nothing but another obligation to Michael, and as one of the most influential men in Nevada, he has very few excuses to make for an absence.
Michael knows he might be more or less inclined to enjoy the evening so long as you and Kay do, but your presence there alone will keep things interesting enough for Michael. Perhaps seeing youâsomeone not obligated to bore themselves to death with fluffy, wealth-induced talks at galasâbut there to enjoy the luxuries the evening has to offer will impact Michaelâs perspective.
Nonetheless, the Corleone familyâlet alone Michael himselfâhas much to be proud of at the gala, as itâs been hosted in the very casino resort that used to belong to Moe Greene. Used to.
It remains the first casino resort Michael directly invested and sought ownership over and has been under Corleone control for seven years, thriving and flourishing as one of the biggest sources of revenue from hospitality to the Corleone family.
Youâve yet to truly see all the wealth and influence the Corleone family maintains, but it benefits you by giving you peace of mind as you know they arenât blatant criminals like the mafia families youâve previously worked for.
Part of Michaelâs only true entertainment tonight at the gala may just be watching how your eyes light up when you enter the casino resort. Michael will have impressed you immensely just by that already and without even lifting his fingerâsomething youâll come to understand Michael Corleone does very often.
Just as youâll be in Michaelâs presence and line of sight at the gala tonight, youâre in his view now. Michael gazes at you from his bedroom window; his curtains pulled back just enough to gaze outside but guard his privacy and hide that his eyes are now fixated only on you.
Michaelâs compound bodyguards and some buttonmen gather by the gazebo not far from you, smoking cigarettes over quiet conversation. Tom is over by the docks, teaching his son Frank how to play fetch with their dog, and yet from all the action occurring from his line of view, youâre all that Michael gazes upon.
Youâre by the Corleone estateâs front lawn with little Mary, carrying a wicker basket filled with a variety of wilted or crushed flowersâcaused by Tomâs dog by accident. You agreed to help Mary collect them to clean up the garden after breakfast, happily tagging along together with a basket almost filled to the brim with old flowers.
âAlmost full,â you chuckle, giving the basket a little shake.
âDo you think we could keep them?â Mary peeks at you, smiling innocently at the basket of flowers in your hand. âWe donât have to throw them away, right?â
âNo, of course not,â you reply with a smile, extending out the basket to Mary for a better look. âWe can still keep them.â
âHmm,â a frown crosses over Maryâs lips as she looks inside the basket to see the crushed petals mixing in with other wilted flowers.
âWe can still make do,â you offer, âhave you ever made jewelry with dried flower petals?â
âYou can do that?â Maryâs eyes light up with sudden excitement, causing you to laugh.
âIf we have all the tools we need, we can both do it together,â you nod at her, âlots to do with these pretty flowers, even if theyâre wilted or crushed. Seeââ you gently scoop up some of the flowers with your hand, rubbing your thumb over the dried out petals. âTheyâre not so bad. We can even press them between books or make crafts with themâno worries at all.â
âWow,â Mary giggles, giving a little excited jump. âOkay! I have moreââ
Before Mary can continue, you both hear Estherâs voice calling out from the other end of the Corleone estate. âMary! Your mother would like to see you!â
âOh!â Mary turns around to the sound of Estherâs voice before glancing back at you.
âGo on,â you beckon, smiling warmly at her. âGala today, maybe itâs packing time?â
âI think so,â Mary lets out a quiet giggle. âOkay, Iâll be back soon, Miss Marina! We need to keep those flowers safe!â
âI definitely will, you can trust me!â You wave her off, holding the basket close to your chest.
Nodding, Mary happily skips off back towards the other end of the estate, leaving you alone in Michaelâs line of vision.
Observing your interaction with his daughter, Michaelâs eyes now trail down your body from head to toe; focused on your lavender shirtwaist dress and black Mary-Jane shoes.
He watches as you take a half-crushed red rose from your flower basket and take in the scent of the flower still lingering and strong.
You glance up momentarily to see Tomâs dog sprinting at full speed after Frankâlaughter erupting from over by the docs as you run your fingers through the damaged petals of the rose.
The softness of the petals strikes a brief thought eagerly wandering into your mind from last nightâs session with yourself as to the thought of Michaelâs hands running over your skin instead; treating you as delicately as you treat the petalsâadmiring you.
You picture Michael gently tilting your chin to face him, tracing the shape of your lips with his finger before caressing your cheek.
Michaelâs free hand would run down from your collarbone to your hardened nipple before heâd rub it between his thumb, watching your eyes for a reaction and listening to a soft whimper exhale from you.
Still caressing over your jawline, Michael would lower his hand down to your inner thighs, scouring them and feeling your soft, warm skin against his hand.
You know Michael would much rather have you alone in his office; your one thigh propped up over his shoulder and his fingers toying with your wet slit more than anything else.
Michael hears Kayâs footsteps beginning to approach the bedroom but he doesnât divert his attention off of you until he hears Kayâs voice speaking to him.
âThe children are almost ready to go,â Kay exhales, seemingly out of breath but in a rather cheerful mood.
Michael tightens his tie, nodding and turning around to face his wife. âHow do you feel?â He slowly begins to approach her from behind as Kay sets an empty piece of luggage on the corner of their bed.
âAlmost exhausted, almost.â Kay lets out a deep breath as Michael embraces her from behind.
âAlmost,â Michael repeats.
âMm,â Kay begins to blush at her husbandâs touch, placing her hands over the top of Michaelâs on her little baby bump. âBut still excited more than anything. How on earth did you convince Connie to come along with us?â She glances over her shoulder back at Michael.
âYouâd have a harder time convincing Mama more than Connie now,â Michael replies.
âOh, true,â Kay lets out a soft laugh as Michael pecks a kiss over her cheek.
âLooking forward to it?â He asks.
âI definitely am,â Kay beams back, âand Marinaâs coming along too. Itâll be something new for everyone and especially for her to look forward to.â
âMhmm,â Michaelâs eyes find the window again, noticing you beginning to walk off back to your lodgings and out of his sight.
âAnd speaking of,â Kay pushes a curtain of her hair behind her ear. âIt was really sweet of you to invite Marina to the gala with us.â
Michael doesnât reply back, only giving the side of Kayâs neck a gentle kiss before pulling away.
âI think sheâll slowly start getting used to them,â Kay continues.
This implies to Michael that Kay expects you to accompany the rest of the family to every social gathering and gala that you can possibly come to going forward, and Michael thinks the exact same thing.
âShe might even have fun,â Kay chuckles, beginning to open up her luggage. âThat poor girl.â
Michael furrows his brows, not on par with Kayâs comment.
âSheâs not helpless,â he comments, moving towards his night table to grab his glass of water. âShe simply isnât used to it.â
âYouâre right,â Kay nods, rethinking her words. âAnd you think so?â
Michael nods back, raising his water glass to his lips. âYou can take tonight to get to know her better as well.
âYouâre right about that,â Kay turns to face her husband, watching Michael take a long sip of his water. âWeâll see.â
 Stepping back into the estate lodgings you share with Esther, you let out a soft breath and take in the peace and quiet from inside, knowing of course Esther is all too busy running around to get the children ready for the gala before she can come in and get herself ready to go too.
Having always been a proactive packer, you already have all your belongings and everything together in your luggage and start packing from the moment you were told youâd be joining the Corleones at the gala.
Youâve been adding more or taking out things as you need, but now all thatâs left is to haul your luggage back outside to let Michaelâs men take care of putting it in the trunk of a secure car with the rest of everyone elseâs belongings.
Heading upstairs to your bedroom, you grab your suitcase placed in the corner of your room and carefully move it from leaning against the wall; using the handle to avoid the bulky heaviness as you begin to take it out into the hallway.
Just before you leave your bedroom, you take a final glance back and towards your closet door that remains ajar; more than halfway filled now with dresses, blouses, skirts, and undergarments. It wasnât like that when you first moved into the Lake Tahoe compound and brings a sense of ease and deep appreciation for your living situation now.
Before, you must have owned about ten outfits in total with three pairs of shoes, but the paycheques the Corleone family writes for you have been nothing less than generous, and youâve gained the financial freedom for the first time in your life to be able to buy yourself something nice without worrying about making ends meet or being racked with guilt for spoiling yourself.
âSomething to get used to,â you smile to yourself before continuing to head downstairs to the front door. âAll of thisâŚâ
Getting used to things also means getting used to galas and the most lavish social gatherings you know a family as prestigious and influential as the Corleones would get invited to, but you donât know for sure if you are or arenât an enthusiast or social butterfly if youâve never attended one before.
For your sake, you hope that you open up more to these events and learn from themâtruly be a part of the Corleone family, coming off inconspicuous as nobody would truly know the real reason why youâd want to accompany them all the time.
âMiss Alighieri,â you hear a familiar, male voice as soon as you step out of your residenceâs door with your luggage in hand.
Almost startled and caught off guard, you pinpoint the voice to be one of Michaelâs menâpeeking up in surprise.
You look up to see Ritchie Nobilio, only remembering his first name not so much through small talk or minor interactions with him yourself but through other men referring to him as such.
Youâve personally seen Ritchie come and go through all parts of the compound as far as your eye can see, and you know heâs responsible for keeping Corleone family employees like you and Esther safe and secure on and around the compound.
âOh, hiââ Youâre surprised to see just how quick but gentle Ritchie snags your luggage out of your hands.
âDonât trouble yourself with that,â Ritchie flashes you a charming smile. âIâll take care of it.â
âThank you,â you smile back, adjusting your posture.
âNo problem,â gripping your luggage, Ritchie begins to head down the porch with you following behind him. âAlmost ready to go?â
âI suppose so,â you glance back at your residenceâs shut front door.
âFirst time?â Ritchie looks at you, waiting for you to catch up with him.
You follow Ritchie side by side at an appropriate distance, continuing to head down to the center of the compound with him.
âYa know,â Ritchie continues, âwith fancy galas and all that.â
âFirst time,â you nod, âhave you ever been to one?â
âMe?â Ritchie chuckles, âSure being security outside and taking a little peek inside sometimes counts. I donât think itâs my thing. I like what I doâdonât get me wrongâbut thatâs a little bit too much. Thereâs a good reason why though.â
âYeah?â You raise a brow, your curiosity rising. âWhy is that?â
âTheyâre the Corleones,â Ritchie shrugs his shoulder, âtheir name, reputation, image? Yeah, they make that shine at those galas, and they do it wellâlet me tell you that.â
As you continue your conversation with Ritchie down to the main estates of the compound, Michael and Kay step out of their estate with Anthony and Mary scuttling by their side.
Michael directs Rocco as to which vehicle will store their luggage, and Kay gently reminds the children to be on their best behavior and use their indoor voices when speaking at the gala and on the way there.
âKeep it secure,â Michael tells Rocco sternly.
âWill do, Don Corleone,â Rocco locks up the back trunk of the Cadillac.
Kay smoothens out her dress, smiling at Michael whose eyes suddenly find you and Ritchie as the two of you begin to approach closer.
Momentarily stunned again, youâre flustered by a powerful urging attraction to Michael and desperately attempt to ignore it and remain polite while listening to what Ritchie has to say.
âIf you donât know how to dance, youâll learn right quick,â Ritchie lets out a laugh, unaware as to how sternly Michaelâs watching the two of you interacting with each other.
âIâm in for a treat then,â you giggle, diverting your attention back to Ritchie.
âYouâll wow them, no worries,â Ritchie gives you a playful winkâonly surging a strike of jealousy through Michael.
âThink weâll head to the airport in half an hour or so?â Kay asks Michael, but neither his gaze nor body language changes.
âLonger,â Michael replies, keeping his eye on you.
âLike this, maybe?â Ritchie spins around with your luggage in hand, showing off a few silly and uncoordinated dance moves that make you burst out in laughter. âMaybe this is all I picked up, but I could do a good waltz maybe!â
âMaybe?â Laughing, you genuinely find Ritchieâs actions before you hilarious.
Itâs nice for you to be able to grow comfortable with Michaelâs men who are responsible for employee safety and security, seeing them as much more friendly and easygoing than you originally thought.
In the moment, youâre too distracted by Ritchie to glance back at Michael, but he most definitely is not.
âSeeâlike that!â Ritchie gently takes your hand, twirling you around with him.
With the sound of the other vehicles slowly pulling in from outside of the compound and Tomâs children screeching around chasing each other in a game of tag just across, Kay canât hear nor does she look over in your line of sight with Ritchie like Michael does.
âLonger?â Kay asks Michael, confused.
Michael nods back, staying put but refusing to call out your name or Ritchieâs for the time being; after all, Kayâs standing right next to him.
âI have other matters to attend to before we leave,â Michael continues.
All Michael wants right now is your immediate attention, and he intends to have it one way or another.
âOh, okayâŚâ Kay blinks, unable to make sense of Michaelâs contradiction for the travel time. âWhat for?â
âJust business, Kay.â
âYep, yep,â Ritchie grins at you as he begins to pack away your luggage in the next Cadillac. âNow we got all your stuff packed in and you got to see me embarrass myself with my dancing. Pretty solid, isnât it?â
âRight,â you giggle back, âwell, thank you for that.â
âOf course,â Ritchie nods back happily. âI wonât be tagging along this time, but I still hope you, Esther, and the others enjoy yourselves in Las Vegas.â
Itâs then that Michael suddenly moves from where he stands with Kay, almost as if heâs going towards his Cadillac but as you look up to the sound of footsteps growing near, your eyes widen to see that it looks like Michaelâs moving directly towards you.
Your heart immediately begins to race in your chestâa hot, rosy blush spreading over your cheeks as Michael gets closer to you, but he moves to simply walk by your side instead of approaching you directly.
You gaze back at Michael with uncertainty and expectation as if heâll speak to you, but you remain reluctant to greet him or say anythingâonly standing there in a blushing panic.
Michael neither stops to speak with you nor does he completely walk past without a word, but you hear him speak to you in a stern yet calm voice just as he walks by, saying, âSee me in my office.â
At a loss for words, you blink and turn around to watch Michael head toward his estate without another word or glance in your direction.
Blushing furiously, you pull a curtain of your hair behind your ear and look around to see everyone preoccupied with packing and speaking with Rocco as to which vehicles will transport who to have witnessed your brief interaction with Michael.
You know youâll all be heading out soon to the airport and you waste no time walking towards the main estate, believing whatever it is that Michael needs to speak to you about, it must be urgent; perhaps a last-minute talk about what to expect at the gala before you go.
âSeeing Michael againâŚâ  You obediently follow into the main estate with no hesitation, noting how utterly quiet itâs become except for the grandfather clock in the foyer.
You move towards Michaelâs office, only able to hear very faint footsteps coming from inside before it goes completely silent, only reminding you once again just how soundproof it truly is in Michaelâs office.
You place your hand over the doorknob of Michaelâs office door and gently twist, entering the office quietly and shutting the door behind you right away.
Michael remains across from you in the office, standing in front of his desk by the coffee tableâsipping a glass of water.
Michaelâs eyes immediately find yours as he lowers his glass of water; expectation rising in his gaze.
âYou asked to see me?â Already flustered and embarrassed, you speak out in a soft tone.
Michael says nothing, continuing to stare at you, watching how your rosy cheeks intensify with blush. His eyes flicker to the detailing of your shirtwaist dress over your chest before he meets your eyes again, âhave a seat.â
Nodding, you take a seat in the same leather armchair you sat in when you met Michael formally for the first time; all the memories begin to trickle back into your mind again.
You discreetly clench your legs and sit politely, hands clasped on your lap as you watch Michael set his glass of water down on his office table; his Italian silk suit jacket hugging every muscle and shape of his figure with each movement he makesâturning you on more than you want to admit.
âHow do you feel?â Michael suddenly asks you, catching you off guard.
You blink, watching as Michael turns to face youâresting both of his hands on the edges of his office table.
You think to yourself the question he just asked must be about how you feel about the gala, not you personally.
Blushing at Michaelâs direct gaze and attention over you, you give a small nod. âIâm excited for the gala. A little nervous, but excited and grateful to be attending.â
âGood,â Michael reaches one hand over to the far corner of his office deskâhis eyes still over yoursâas he reaches for his cigarette pack, taking one cigarette out of it.
You swallow hard, watching Michaelâs slim fingers wrap around the cigarette as he pulls it out of the pack. You know youâve had far too many nights where youâve fallen asleep after fingering yourself from one orgasm to the nextâimagining those same slim fingers pumping in and out of you until your juices flowed down your thighs.
Michael takes his lighter out from his suitâs front breast pocket before speaking further with you. âI trust you find the security at the compound satisfactory.â
âUm, yes.â
Michael raises his cigarette to his lips before pausing, seemingly unimpressed by your answer. âIâm not interviewing you, Marina. Iâm only asking.â
âOh,â you breathe out, watching Michael slip his cigarette in the corner of his mouth. âRight, sorry.â
âYou seemed much more carefree outside,â Michael lights his cigarette, staring back at you. âNobilio is treating you kindly?â
âOh, yes,â you answer, âyes, he is. Itâs nice of him. I think he interacts with Esther andââ
âThatâs his job,â Michael takes a long first drag out of his cigarette. âHeâs known for that.â Michael blows out the smoke of his cigarette away from you, slowly beginning to walk behind your seat.
You freeze, taking in the scent of Michaelâs cologne mixing in with the cigarette smoke as Michael places one hand on the back of your seatâmere inches from your shoulder. âBut you can see how I find that highly inappropriate, donât you?â
âOn his behalf?â You ask, quietly.
Michael moves his hand back, coming around to sit in the leather armchair directly across from you. âYou think it would be inappropriate on your behalf?â He answers your question with another question. âItâs simply inappropriate. Itâs not acceptable.â
âIs heâŚ?â Stunned, you canât quite figure out why Michael feels so strongly about your interaction with Ritchie outside, but you do remember how vocal and even silly both you and Ritchie must have been acting out in the middle of the compound and that it might just have come off the wrong way.
Youâre in no position at the moment to assume it might just be jealousy on Michaelâs behalf.
You nod at Michael slowly with a frown. âIâm sorry.â
Michaelâs gaze softens as he takes his cigarette out of his mouth. âYou donât have to apologize to me, Marina.â He rises from his seat, beginning to approach you directly.
Your breath hitches as you look up at Michael and force yourself to maintain eye contact despite having your face leveled only a few inches away from his crotch.
âI donât want to repeat myself,â Michael continues, his tone of voice soft and husky but affirmative in how he lectures you. âDo you understand?â
âYes,â you breathe out.
âI donât want you near Nobilio. I donât want you near any of those men like that,â Michael states. âYou are my governess, not their friend and you will remain by my side when I ask you to.â
âIâŚâ Blushing furiously and unable to avoid the feverish tension building between the both of you, you nod back almost too willingly. âYes, sir.â
âGood girl.â
âWhat?â Your eyes widen at his response, face flushing scarlet as youâre too shocked to even react to his words but Michael wastes no time in dismissing you, already having turned around and making his way over to the office door.
âGet yourself ready for the gala. Weâre leaving now.â
It isnât the first time nor will it be the last time youâll exit from Michaelâs office with a wet patch growing in your panties and a quiver running down your thighsâbegging for Michaelâs touch.
What that man does to you is beyond anything you can think of and all your rationality flies out the window in his presence alone.
He just had you here in his office moments ago, subtlety lecturing you as if you were his and his only, and all you did was agree readily. Yes, just like that.
Youâve no desire to be close to or interact personally with Ritchie Nobilio again if thatâs what Michael wants, and yet you picked up on the sound in the tone of Michaelâs voice and that look in his hazel eyes that were filled with a kind of concern and careânot out of worry for your safety but for something else.
âTo be close to himâŚâ
Stunned and getting more and more aroused, you force yourself back into reality; getting ready to leave with the others as you remain quiet amongst the family.
With everything packed and all vehicles secured, lining up near the gates of the compound, youâre seated in the Cadillac with Esther only, seeing Sandra, her kids, and Mama Corleone in another and Tom, Theresa, and their children in another, leaving Michael, Kay, Mary and Anthony in their vehicleâthe most protected.
The rest of Michaelâs men and bodyguards drive close, following behind and leading ahead as all of the vehicles exit the compound.
You glance out the back windshield of the car, watching as the compoundâs gates close shut; Michaelâs men immediately secure the perimeters and keep watch until your vehicles drive away from their line of vision.
You have to admit, it helps not to be around Michaelâs immediate presence, but youâre still too disenchanted to take anything else in.
All your mind runs through are thoughts of being next to Michael again; his dark eyes burning into youâcalling you âgood girlâ. Did you just imagine that?
Itâs not like you can make small talk with Esther now in the car to get Michael off your mind, seeing how Estherâs peacefully dozed off to catch up on her sleep after chasing the children around all morning.
Like a curse and a blessing at the same time, you have more than enough time to let your lewd thoughts of Michael get to you before you reach his commissioned private jet at the airport.
You take a deep breath and redirect your attention to gazing out of the car window, watching the scenery of Lake Tahoe rush past you.
One way or another, youâre excited to attend this gala even if all youâre doing is teasing yourself with thoughts of Michael. Itâs an excuse for you to be by his side like he wants you to, like a good girl.
~
Just as you expected throughout the car ride to the Corleone familyâs private jet at the airport, youâre far from the public eye in the airport and near twice as much security; barely catching more than a glance of him as Michael is the first to board his jet.
Rocco speaks to the pilot just by the entrance to the private jet and Al Neri follows the Corleone family close from behind, ensuring Kay, Mary, and Anthony board safely in front of him.
Michaelâs buttonmen begin to load the private jet with everyoneâs luggage and belongings from the trunks of the Cadillacsâincluding yours before youâre even aware of itâas you realize youâre standing next to Esther in silence, distracted by everything and everyone around you at this moment.
Esther gives you a small smile, aware of how pleasantly taken back you are from the scenery of Michaelâs private jet alone from your wide eyes dazzling from surprise, let alone at the fact youâve come to realize Michael owns a private jet.
âOf course he does.â You blink, noticing Esther gently nudging you.
âCome on, honey,â Esther gestures to you to line up with her to begin to enter the jet.
Snapping back to reality, you smile and nod back at Esther as you follow in behind her quietly.
âWhat does Michael Corleone not have?â You find yourself wondering yet again as you step into the private jet; a much bigger, more luxurious, and spacious layout than you could have imagined itâd be.
Three flight attendants stand before you, smiling and politely welcoming you and Esther on board, but you can already tell just by the way they look at you and their formal body language that they know youâre new and can expect to see you board more often; itâs almost flattering.
âThis way, please,â one of the flight attendants gestures to the right as you notice the two-way split; the left side contains a more private, luxurious side you assume is for Michael and Kay.
Following through the right side, you spot Tom, Theresa, and their children seated in their luxurious reclining seats; a lush burgundy carpet underneath them and throughout the private jet, soft air conditioning blowing throughout and curtains to draw back over each seating section for privacy.
âWow,â you find yourself murmuring under your breath as your eyes find two seats reserved with Esther and your name over a small embossed card.
Esther chuckles at your reaction, taking her seat next to you. âItâs amazing, isnât it? I can never quite get used to it all.â
âIâm right there with you,â you blink, shifting comfortably in your seat.
âPersonally,â Esther begins, folding her name card in half, âI donât think Mr. Corleone would have us travel any other way. Only private.â
âAlways?â You do the same with your name card, putting it into your purse.
âWithout a doubt,â Esther nods, buckling herself in. âBelieve me, I donât think the Corleones believe in straying away from the lap of luxury.â
You glance down at your seatbelt, remembering how to put it on securely from how Tom showed you during your flight to Nevada.
âThatâs what itâs all about,â Estherâs eyes meet with yours as you rest your back against your seat.
You give her a warm smile back, letting the words linger in the back of your mind. âThatâs what all of this is aboutâŚâ
~~~
The private jet takes off smoothly no sooner than ten minutes later, leaving you with some thoughtful time to relax and take in the peace and quiet; all the world of a difference from being on a public flight.
Itâs another twenty minutes before itâs announced that the private jet has reached an altitude of 30,000 feet; the rest of your hour and thirty-minute flight awaiting to pass as a light meal service begins.
âIâm almost excited for you in a way,â Esther giggles, redirecting your attention from the dining carts the flight attendants begin to push through. âThe first time truly experiencing the extent of Corleone hospitality is something else, Iâll tell you that.â
âOh, gosh,â you feel flustered with the swift, luxury service in front of you within minutes, thanking the flight attendant who begins to pour Esther and you a glass of French champagne and set a porcelain platter of a small selection of desserts.Â
âOoh, thank you so much,â Esther gleefully pulls her plate closer.
âThank you,â your eyes widen at the colorful little macarons placed on your platter next to a piece of pistachio cannoli and a slice of tiramisu.
âThe gala is going to be everything,â Esther whispers to you with heavy emphasis, raising her champagne glass. âHow about that?â
âIâll drink to that then,â you laugh with her, clinking your glass with Estherâs.
âCheers, honey,â Esther takes a small sip of her champagne.
You and Esther make for soft conversation throughout the flight over champagne and sweets; topics ranging from your interest in education, Estherâs childhood, working with children and everything in between as an hour and a half passes by easily.
Thereâs no rush to eye for your luggage or rise from your seat when the private jet lands, as itâs smooth and gradual without any rush or gate to reach.
Now more than anything, you want to know and experience exactly all that Estherâs been telling you about when it comes to social gatherings, galas, and celebrations with the Corleones, and something tells you Michael intends to prove the fullest extent of his familyâs hospitality to you time and time again.
~~~
Any nerves or uneasiness you had about all of what Las Vegas has to offer you for this gala has gradually eased off of you completely, and all you can do is thank Esther for it and all that sheâs told you to expect and the reassurance sheâs given you to also relax and enjoy yourself at these kinds of events.
You return the smile Esther gives you as both of you begin to exit the private jet; you canât help but realize just how close the two of you have already gotten and will continue to get.
You like Esther, you enjoy the conversations you have with her even if itâs small talk and you love how her presence is easygoing and carefree.
Estherâs gentle and patient and thereâs no doubt in your mind sheâs a phenomenal nanny to the Corleones and has been for many years.
You follow Esther and the others to where Michaelâs bodyguards stand by and gesture to several parked, black Cadillacs for the final drive to the gala.
As your eyes dart around to the other vehicles, you swear to yourself for a moment there you can make out Michaelâs silhouette in the back seat of one of the vehicles, but Kay and the children are nowhere to be seen.
âWhen it comes to travelingââ Esther speaks up, getting into one of the assigned vehicles with you, âif Mr. and Mrs. Corleone wish to bring the children along, Iâm always there. Wherever the children are, theyâre my first priority. You may think the same, butââ Esther shifts in her seat, clicking on her seatbelt as the vehicle doors shut and you get inside with her. âYour situation is a little different?â
âHow so?â You ask, a little flustered.
âYouâre a teacher, itâs different,â Esther gives your hand a gentle pat. âMr. and Mrs. Corleone may want to spend more time with you regularly to understand the progress of their childrenâs education and behavior. They rarely ask me for much about that, but I donât think thatâll be the case with you. I think Mrs. Corleone will want to spend a lot of time with you in general.â
âOh, I see,â you nod back, pushing away the gnawing feeling inside of you that youâd much rather prefer merely standing in Michaelâs presence all the time instead of spending one-on-one time with Kay.
âI shouldnât be thinking like this in the first place.â You mentally scold yourself.
âEither way,â Esther interrupts your train of thought, âall is fine, isnât it? Who would give up the opportunity to travel so often like this? I know I would take more of it if I could.â
All this can possibly mean for you is seeing Michael more, being with Michael more, and spending time with him you wouldnât get as much or as easily on the Lake Tahoe compound like thatâespecially alone.
Itâs only a brief twenty-minute ride from the airport to the gala and already leaves you mesmerized as you can hardly get your eyes off of the passing, dazzling streets of Las Vegas and everything it has to offer.
Youâre only momentarily distracted once it comes to your attention that half of the vehicles take a separate route, leaving the rest of you; a reaction which Esther easily picks up on as you notice Sandra, Tom, and Theresa, and Michael and Kay take an alternative route.
âSecurity measures, you know?â
âOh, always?â You glance back at Esther.
âMostly,â she nods back at you. âItâs almost solely reserved for Mr. and Mrs. Corleone. Only their bodyguard knows what routes theyâll be taking.â
âInterestingâŚâ
Regardless of the alternative route taken, all of the Corleone family vehicles arrive at the guarded, private entrance of the gala only mere seconds apart from one another.
The front of the Tropigalaâs grandiose nature stands out before you as you notice how heavily guarded and gated the VIP entrance is, making it more than apparent itâs only an entrance for the Corleone family alone.
The Tropigala itself is unlike any size building youâve ever seen before back in New York; simply massive and boasts over thirty acres of space with over 130,000 square feet.
The Tropigala is not merely just a four-star resort but boasts a vast casino as a part of its well-known amenities and with the sun setting on the Vegas horizon, the flashing and flickering lights of the casino and resort shine togetherâcoming at a sparkle from every angle.
The twinkling lights reflect back in your eyes as your vehicles come to a slow halt towards the private entrance, and you can just make out Michaelâs vehicle at the frontâsurrounded by more security coming towards it than anyone else.
As your vehicle parks, the doors are opened for you and Esther by a bodyguard who gives you two a small, polite smile but otherwise remains quiet.
You mumble a soft âthank youâ as you step out first, followed by Esther as Michaelâs men move to take out the luggage from each vehicleâs trunk next.
You hear familiar giggling ahead only to look up and see Mary gazing up in sheer wonder at the size of the Tropigala, holding Kayâs hand.
Anthony cracks a smile, remaining quiet next to his family and your eyes are far too quick to dart up to Michael who stands next to Kay, adjusting his silk tie and speaking with a few bodyguards near him.
Your view of Michael remains to be only from behind for now, but itâs more than enough for you. Once again, you feel a strike of arousal rush through youâpulling you into a haze of distraction.
It isnât until Michael begins to turn around moments later that you realize heâs asking, âWhere is Marina?â
Blushing furiously at the sound of Michael saying your name, you glance back up at him and notice an immediate look of satisfaction settling in his hazel eyes.
âCome here,â he gestures to you to stand by his side.
Doing what youâre told, your eyes peek at Kay who appears distracted with Anthony and Mary; having kneeled down to their height and calmly explaining to them what rules and behaviors she expects at the gala.
Michael gestures to his bodyguard without taking his eyes off of you; the bodyguard immediately takes your side protectively.
âMiss Aligheri,â the bodyguard speaks to you directly. âPer Mr. Corleoneâs request, your room has been changed. I am to escort you inside with the others.â
âOh?â You glance back at Michael for confirmation but see his attention with his other bodyguards. âOh, alright.â Stunned, you donât feel the need to ask the how and whys of a room change at this hour.
The bodyguard remains by your side but turns to face the front of the entrance as the doors begin to slowly open.
Once you, Esther, and the others begin to move in, you notice Michael remaining back for just a few moments longer until you move just slightly past him.
âDonât leave your room until I tell you to.â
Your eyes snap open in surprise as arousal courses through your muscles; you force yourself to avoid Michaelâs gaze and only give him a nod back in response.
âOh my God.â
Once you sense Michaelâs presence moving further toward the entrance of the Tropigala, you quickly look in his direction.
Just as Michael, the children, and Kay are about to be the first ones to enter the Tropigala, you see the look of glee spread over Kayâs face; her eyes fawning at Michael with excitement.
Upon first entrance, Kay leans up towards Michael on the tips of her toes, gently tilts Michaelâs face with one hand, and kisses his lips passionately.
In the split second, you witness the deep kiss between Kay and Michael, a deep strike of jealousy rushes through your chest and intensifies through queasiness in the pit of your stomach.
You immediately turn your head away in response, feeling the tips of your ears and the back of your neck prickle with jealousy.
âOkayâŚâ Letting out a soft, shaky breath, you continue to follow the bodyguard into the private lobby of the Tropigala as he escorts you and your luggage to your newly assigned suite.
âDonât leave the room until I tell you toâŚâ Dazed and in a mix of confusion and jealousy, you only take a glance behind you to see other bodyguards leading the rest of the family through different turns down the private lobby and other elevators.
âAll on the same floor,â you hear Tom say to Theresa as they enter the same elevator with you and another bodyguard, relieving you.
âIt makes sense,â you think to yourself, returning the polite smile Tom and Theresa give you.
You canât spot Michael, Kay, or the children around you but with how your emotions have suddenly spiked up and feel jumbled in your chest, itâs for the best you try not to find them right now.
Three grand elevators fit to carry fifteen people comfortably take everyone up into the private suites of the Tropigala and once you all reach the same floor, you can hear soft chatter coming from the others; lost in conversation about the scheduling of events at the gala or some form of entertainment.
âThereâll be more than enough time to get ready,â you hear Sandra say to Theresa. âIâm not stepping foot downstairs until I have both my hair and makeup doneâno chance.â
âRight,â Tom chuckles back. âI trust Theresa with it.â
âRoom 20M, miss,â the bodyguard speaks out to you, gesturing down another hallway.
Nodding, you follow the bodyguard down an isolated hallway, realizing that the others have gone down the same corridor on the opposite side of the building.
There isnât so much as another glance or comment towards your path of direction, and it causes you further confusion as you and the bodyguard near the end of the hallway see only one suite door.
âWhat is this?â You ask, blinking.
The bodyguard pauses for a moment, glancing at you. You can tell by the look in his eyes that he was unaware nobody had given you any specifics on the room aside from the fact itâs been changed last second.
âThis is a presidential suite, miss,â the bodyguard answers. âMr. Corleone had it arranged for you.â
âOh.â Your heart skips a beat in your chest. âOf courseâŚheâŚdid.â
âI trust you will find luxurious and ample space,â the bodyguard continues, approaching the suite door and reaching into his suit pocket for the keys.
âCompared to the others?â You ask, watching the bodyguard begin to unlock the door.
âSecond to Mr. and Mrs. Corleoneâs.â
The bodyguard twists the doorknob and wedges his foot inside the ajar door before turning to hand you the key.
Taking it from his hands, you peek into the suite as the bodyguard keeps the door held wide for you to enter first as he takes your bags in after you.
For the sake of keeping yourself presentable near the bodyguard, you hold in every reaction you have inside of you towards the inside of what appears to be nothing short of a mansion within; much bigger than the entirety of your family home back in New York.
Marble floors lead throughout the suite with silver and gold renaissance-inspired fixtures complete with a full kitchen, three bedrooms down the hallway, and a master bedroom boasting the size of a living room to your right.
As you enter the suite, you notice the master bedroomâs French doors are both wide open, revealing a king-sized bed with a luxurious, baroque pattern duvet and six pillows propped up.
The glistening evening lights from around the Tropigala and the surrounding Las Vegas area twinkle through the balcony, giving a gorgeous view of the vicinity of the resort.
The dĂŠcor throughout the suite has a vintage flair of the 1930s with fur rugs over the marble floors and a grand fireplace in both the main living space and the master bedroom.
Just as you turn around towards the door to thank your bodyguard for placing your luggage inside, you notice heâs already gone.
You let out a soft sigh of relief, shutting and locking the door behind you.
Feeling a sense of relaxation finally hit you after the trip, you move past your luggage and begin walking towards the kitchen.
On the countertop remains a large gift basket wrapped in clear plastic, revealing a bottle of white wine, champagne, and other various chocolates, sweets, and chocolate-covered fruits with a small letter affixed to the front of the gift basket reading âMarinaâ in cursive.
Blushing, you gently take the letter off of the gift basket and run your fingers over your handwritten name in the middle, admiring the neat and smooth cursive letters.
Opening the envelope, you take out a small piece of paper tucked inside that reads:
âI intend to give you what you deserve and what youâve wanted.
 I imagine the suite is to your liking.
 Welcome to the family, Marina.
-Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Michael Corleone.â
As you hold the letter in your hands, re-reading it over again, you let out a soft gasp to hear the click of the door to your suite opening.
Presuming the bodyguard returned and is checking up on you, you move out of the kitchen and clutch the letter in your hands as you look over by the front door.
âMichael.â
In an instant, your heart begins to thunder in your chest from attraction and arousal surging through you all at onceâcaught in utter surprise by his presence.
âGood evening, Marina,â Michael approaches, noticing the letter in your hand. âAre you satisfied with everything?â
Youâre so flustered in the heat of the moment that you can barely find the words to speak back out to him, stunned and trying to take in the fact that Michael is with you alone in your suite.
âDoes anyone else know of this? Would I even want to tell?â
âItâs incredible,â you finally breathe out. âItâs more than anything I could have ever imagined, butââ
âBut?â Michael interrupts, standing only a mere few inches from you with expectation in his eyes as if thereâs a right or wrong answer to this.
âWhat have I done to deserve this?â You ask, breathless.
âI donât want you to ask me that question again,â Michael says, rigidly. âDonât,â he continues, âask questions to which you know the answers. Youâre smarter than that.â
âYes, sir,â you reply back obediently, taking yourself by surprise by your own response.
Michael appears content with your reaction. âYour parents raised a very intelligent, respectable, and ambitious woman. One would not have to get to know you very well to understand that, but I see the others you were around provided you nothing. You donât need to deserve anything with me, Marina. You will simply have them.â
Michaelâs eyes wander over the gift basket on the kitchen counter before back at you. âPerhaps youâre not quite fully comfortable with the hospitality and luxuries the Corleone family has to offer because you still believe you need to deserve these things. There is no such thing,â he locks eyes with you. âYou wonât be deprived of or limited of anything.â
âI see,â you reply back quietly.
âAnd yet youâve seen nothing.â
âNothing?â You blink back in shock.
âCome with me,â Michael gestures, beginning to make his way toward the master bedroom.
The idea of entering a private bedroom alone with Michael makes your knees quiver from arousal as you trail after him.
âJustâŚ. Follow. Donât think, just follow him like he asked you to.â
From the angle that you saw the master bedroom wide open, you noticed nothing but the size of the bed and the spaciousness that awaited you.
Upon entering the room for the first time with Michael, your eyes fall upon the stunning, satin scarlet gown Michael had picked out for you, neatly laid out on the edge of the bed.
âThis isâŚâ You gasp, approaching the edge of the bed. âAbsolutely beautiful, itâsâŚâ You lean over and run your hands over the soft fabric before standing uprightâcompletely frozen in a spot as you feel Michaelâs chest against your back.
âStay still, darling,â Michael murmurs, breathing against your neck.
âOh, God.â Doing as he says, you squeeze your eyes shut and feel Michael brush a curtain of your hair aside from one side of your neck to the other, clasping a piece of jewelry to your neck.
It carries some weight, and as you open your eyes to see you notice it dangling in between your breasts; glistening diamonds, adorning your neck. You can already picture how youâll look with the red gown on you after.
Michael clasps the necklace on you perfectly; his hands gentle, smooth, and soft against your hot, glowing skin.
You know by now youâd be nothing but a fool to assume Michael canât clearly tell just how aroused you are by how warm your skin has gotten in reaction to his touch.
âThere,â Michael says, pulling his hands away. âYour earrings are on your vanity table.â
You slowly turn around, not to move towards the vanity table to get the earrings or look at them, but rather to gaze up at Michael.
Both of you look directly into each other's eyes as you mouth out a breathless, âThank you.â
Michael returns your thanks with a nod, continuing to gaze into your eyes with silence; no words, and no expectations.
His gaze devours yours, speaking more than words, upon each other the way two lovers would admire one another in silence.
âI want to be the first to see you downstairs at the gala when you arrive,â Michael breaks the silence.
You nod back, unable to speak.
âYouâre beautiful,â Michael states, watching as your eyes widen from the compliment; your rosy cheeks flushing again with blush. âAnd Iâm certain I wonât be the only one who thinks so tonight.â
âIâŚâ
Speechless, you watch as Michael takes a step back, beginning to move towards the doors of the master bedroom.
Every muscle in your body aches and craves for Michael more than ever; you wish so badly to yourself that he wouldnât have to leave so that you two could just spend a moment longer alone, even though he has to.
âI miss him already but heâs still here.â
âTake all the time you need,â Michael says, his back facing you. âBut Iâd rather not wait long.â
~~~
The next twenty minutes pass by like a haze as if youâre in a dream-like state as you begin to get ready for the night at your first gala.
The satin, red gown fits you like a glove; hugging every inch and curve of your body but flattering your skin with the soft, satin fabric.
The dress falls off your shoulders and gives a subtle but sexy peek of cleavage, not to mention drawing much more attention to your collarbones now that thereâs a diamond necklace adorning it.
The five-inch black stilettos placed next to the foot of your bed are going to make a ravishing touch to show whenever you take a seat.
You spray a bit of perfume around your collarbones, the back of your neck, writs, and a little over your back as you finish up your look by letting your hair flow freely; slight loose curls finished up with some hair spray and product to hold it in place.
Wearing the matching diamond earrings from Michael, a matching bold, red lipstick, and a small, winged eyeliner with a subtle blended touch of smoky eyeshadow in the corner of your eye with two coats of mascara later, youâre finally ready.
You grab your sequin studded purse and sling it over your shoulder, tucking your suite keys inside before you exit.
Locking the door behind you, you take a peek around the hallway leading to the elevator and can't hear or spot anyone else nearby.
You take the elevator down to the main floor to a private foyer leading into the front banquet hall of the gala.
You can already hear the bustle and cheerful voices of chatter and music coming from the main hall and wonder where youâll find the Corleones; no doubt at some visibly marked VIP tables.
From the moment you step out of the elevator, you face two sets of spiral staircases that twist around one another and lead up to the suite floors with Michael waiting in between them, gazing directly at you.
It seems Michael was momentarily distracted right up until the elevator doors opened, and a mesmerized look crossed his eyes at the sight of you; his eyes admiring your figure up to the diamonds over your neck and the pout of your lips.
âMiss Alighieri,â Michael greets you as you take a few steps out of the elevator.
âMichael,â you blush, moving forward.
âCome sit down, come sit!â You can faintly hear Kayâs voice coming from the banquet hall, scolding Mary from afar.
Michael ignores his wifeâs voice, admiring your beauty before him. âYou look beautiful.â
âThank you,â you blush furiously at the second time heâs given you the same compliment in less than an hour.
âCome with me,â Michael gestures to the banquet hall, leading you in alongside him to the main gala area.
Bright lights and several shining chandeliers dangle from high ceilings all above, a live orchestra up front on a gilded stage playing a lively tune with violin and piano while a few couples dance with one another.
Waiters and waitresses buzz to and through each table carrying a tray on each hand, serving champagne and hors dâouvres.
Hundreds of dollars worth of wine is uncorked and champagne is popped and poured, including a fountain of champagne towards the center of the banquet hall where onlooking guests giddily await their turn for a glass.
As you continue to follow Michael through, you notice the section in which you two walk through is reserved and separated by velvet rope and bodyguardsâleading you to the back of the banquet hall which remains quieter but with a perfect view of the entire galaâs events just up ahead.
A mouthwatering scent of smoky meats and stewed vegetables hits you as you see the waiters and waitresses for dinner service begin to move dishes to private tables, leaving a buffet table towards the further sides of the banquet for guests as well.
Thereâs no lack of options for meals and for the first time in your life, youâre in front of more than three kinds of dishes and refreshments.
The tables at the gala are at an appropriate distance from one another for the sake of navigation and walking space but to reduce eavesdropping and prying eyes, completely reserved and without a single empty seat yet arranged in such an orderly fashion that the banquet hall doesnât look overcrowded.
Suits and ties, gowns and dresses flow everywhere, mixing into the scents of expensive colognes and perfumes all around.
As you reach the reserved tables for the Corleone family, you notice thereâs a total of five grouped around each other and reinforced security inconspicuously making their rounds nearby.
You notice Al Neri and Rocco on opposite sides, watching intently, and assume Michaelâs other men must have gone incognito.
âMarina!â Kayâs eyes light up as she peeks up from her seat, sitting next to Connie.
You blush from the sudden attention over you, waving back at Michael but you see Kayâs reaction doesnât even phase Michael.
âOh my⌠Wow,â Kayâs eyes grow wide at the sight of your dress, eyeing you head to toe.
âHi, Kay,â you smile back.
âHey, Marina,â Connie gives you a confident smile, sipping her cosmopolitan cocktail. âYou look oh so gorgeous, you know that? So beautiful, honey,â she gestures out by extending her handâall the diamond jewelry and rings over it sparkling underneath the chandelier light, âthat red is everything on you.â
âThank you, ladies,â you beam back, âyou all look so gorgeous tonight too.â
âSays you,â Connie winks back as you take a seat at the reserved seat with your name on it, just across from her and Kay.
Your eyes land on Kayâs dress, peeking at the details. Kay wears a midi-length, long-sleeved, lace evergreen dress next to Connie in a stunning, sequined, mermaid gown in a deep marine color.
While Kay keeps her statement piece, and pearl accessories minimal, Connie on the other hand is covered from head to toe in various diamondsâglistening at every angle and despite the flashy look, the only diamonds Kayâs eyes are on are the ones around your own neck.
For a moment, you can see in Kayâs eyes that sheâs hyper-focused on your diamond necklace, going from surprise to appearing somewhat mildly glum as you get comfortable in your seat.
Michael takes his seat next to you, keeping both you and Kay by his side as you look over to the table across; Sandra and Mama Corleone smiling and giving you greeting waves.
âAny minute now,â Connie eyes the waitstaff coyly.
âThe event hasnât started yet?â You ask, noticing how distracted Kay becomes while watching her children at the table with the others and Esther remains.
âThe evening has hardly started yet, darling, Once we get our menus and refreshments, we can call this a property party,â Connieâs eyes flash to Michaelâs momentarily.
âYouâll stay around?â Sandra calls out to you from the other table.
âI believe I will,â you smile back at her politely.
âThis is new for you, isnât it?â Sandra giggle.
âIt isââ You begin before Michael cuts you off.
âMarina knows her place,â he statesâcausing a flare-up of blush over your cheeks.
Sandra nods, the mood of playfulness washing off of her expression from Michaelâs response.
âOh, finally,â Connie scoffs, noticing special waitstaff dressed in full black begin to approach the Corleone family tables who begin to place menus in front of everyone upon the table.
You make split-second eye contact with Michael before you return your attention to the menu with your name embellished on it in front of you, blushing deeply.
The waitstaff serves the French champagne mentioned at the top of the menu in every glass, rotating around the table and as you focus on the sparkling liquid being poured into your cup, you notice you can still feel Michaelâs eyes over you.
Your eyes trail down to the menu, beginning to read the listed refreshments first. Alongside the French champagne you begin to drink, there are options of port, sherry, and white Bordeaux.
Appetizers include foie gras cured duck breast and rhubarb, lobster roasted carrots with buttermilk puree, and scallops with charred leek onion broth and pink purslane.
The entrees include Sicilian rabbit finished with a sweet and sour sauce topped with Sicilian sardines, truffle roasted duck, guinea fowl with licorice braised leeks morels and rosemary sous vide lamb.
You can hardly believe your eyes at the numerous options of some of the most luxurious dishes youâve ever read; half of these kinds of meals youâre completely unfamiliar with but seem like the Corleones eat every single day.
The dessert menu lists a mango cremeux Douglas-fir and yogurt sorbet with white cookie dough, peanut caramelized banana sorbet with banana cake, and dark chocolate with smoked hazelnut praline topped off with salted milk ice cream.
âIâm taking my time with this,â Connie relishes the first sip of her French champagne.
âYouâre telling me,â Sandra comments back from her table.
âEverything looks so amazing,â you murmur to yourself, looking around to see how everyone is engrossed in the menuâs contents.
You notice nobodyâs eyes are on you and it brings you a small measure of comfort, especially to the Corleone familyâs knowledge that youâve never seen or experienced anything like this before.
This may be completely new to you, but nobody is exactly treating you like youâre a stray dog now adopted and living in the lap of luxury.
It helps alleviate the embarrassment you still slightly feel, especially with all the newfound attention and luxury over you on a daily basis, let alone directly from Michael.
As you glance over to your side, you notice a pause taking a sip from his French champagne as Al Neri approaches him, leaning over to whisper something only audible to Michael in his ear for a mere moment.
Michael neither nods nor reacts, only giving Al Neri an approving look before he begins to rise from his seat.
Despite Michael already getting up, you notice everyone else at the table and the surrounding ones pay no attention to Michael leaving, so you try to do the same.
As Michael walks off with Al Neri towards the midst of the banquet hall, you assume to yourself this is probably the expectation others have placed upon Michael to do nothing but socialize with him and network.
âHow much closer does he want to be with me tonight like this?â
âLong night,â Sandra sighs at her table, almost completely finished with her first glass of French champagne already.
âYou donât have to worry,â Connie says to you as she watches Kay get up from her seat as well to meet with a couple by the champagne fountain gleefully, leaving you alone with Connie and Sandra's company.
âIt could have been worse for you,â Connie speaks out to Sandra.
âI have no idea what that means.â You stare back at Connie in confusion before noticing the sad look crossing over Sandraâs eyes.
âI donât know,â Sandra shrugs her shoulders. âI miss it.â
âYou miss it?â You speak up, suddenly becoming too curious not to be a part of the conversation now.
âSonny,â Sandra gives you a longing, melancholy smile.
Youâve heard the name before, more so as Santino whom you know to be Sandraâs late husband.
âYou should have told Marina,â Connie sips her champagne smugly.
âIt hasnât been easy, you know,â Sandra shoots Connie a glare before turning to face you, the same sadness returning back to the pool in her eyes. âSonny would have loved these sorts of thingsâgetting involved in meeting new people.â
âA little too much,â Connie comments.
âRight, I know,â Sandra rolls her eyes. âBut anyway, itâs true. Eyes everywhere. I felt like I had to police him to behave.â
âHe was the party-going type?â
âOh, no, no, no,â Connie chuckles. âYou want to see the partygoing type? Talk about charisma and enthusiasm, just look at my brother.â
Connie gestures behind her towards the champagne fountain where you spot Fredo wearing a two-piece beige suit and bowtie, sunglasses on despite being indoors and beaming proudly next to a blonde bombshell next to him who runs her hands through her flirtatiously with a show-winning grinâdressed in a dainty, mini mauve dress that threatens to spill down her chest.
Fredo and the woman next to him speak with four people who seem wildly interested in whatever theyâre saying; Fredo enthusiastically cracks jokes, laughs, and talks wildly with his hands.
âThatâs my brother, Fredo,â Connie clarifies. âHeâll want to meet you soon.â
âI look forward to it,â youâre stunned, unable to truly make sense of how different all of the Corleone brothers are from one another.
Never would you have guessed someone like Fredo would be the stern and cunning Michael Corleoneâs brother of all things.
âI wonder if you would have liked Sonny,â Sandra looks up at you. âYouâre a real pretty girl.â
Connie clears her throat loudly, looking around the banquet hall to spot any waitstaff nearby.
âWashroom,â Sandra turns her head away and mumbles to herself to be excused, getting up from her seat just as more waitstaff begin to approach.
âWhatâs that supposed to mean? What?â Thoroughly confused, you sit patiently and quietly in your seat despite all the awkwardness that just ensues throughout that conversation.
Kay and Michael begin to return to their seats as the waitstaff begins to serve the appetizers, all coming back together.
One of the waitstaff pours you three different glasses of wine, all off of the selections on the menu in front of you in six ounces each as the other waitstaff due to each and every one of you at all the Corleone family tables.
Three porcelain plates are set out in front of everyone with a perfectly small portion of each of the appetizers to try.
Once the waitstaff departs, the conversation starts small and soft at the table, mostly about family plans, the trip here, and the Corleone family estate in New York.
Michael rarely comments or speaks up, but notice how intently he listens and the eye contact he makes with whoever is speaking at the table; conversations far removed from what you know and can relate to, but even as you smile and comment, you feel included in the conversations and your comments valued.
At any given moment when you realize Kayâs eyes are not on you or anyone else speaking, you see how blatantly obvious she makes her admiration towards Michael.
âIâm no better,â you remind yourself as you attempt to stifle any feelings of rising jealousy.
âWhereâs Fredo, by the way?â Tom asks, turning around in his seat and eyeing around the banquet hall.
Michael appears unamused as Mama Corleone chuckles, âYouâre looking for him already?â
âWell,â Tom starts out with a laugh, âI wanted to know because Fredo hasnât met Marina formally yet.â
âThatâs fair,â Kay points out, âbut I think heâs been chatting it up with some guests for the past hour now.â
âHeâll come around,â Connie comments. âHe always does.â
âWe have time until dinner is served,â Michael speaks up.
âBesides,â Connie continues, looking over at you as she begins to rise from her seat. âMy brother Fredo and his wife Deanna know all about you.â
âDeanna Dunn, the movie star,â Tom clarifies.
You notice out of the corner of your eye that Sandra makes her way back to her seat, doing so quietly so as not to interrupt the ongoing conversation or draw attention to herself.
âIntroductions are in order tonight,â Kay gleefully adds, beginning to get up from her seat as she gestures to you. âCome, Marina! Weâll introduce you to Fredo.â
âKay,â Michael stares at her; his tone smooth and soft but demanding and disapproving all at once.
An expression of sudden hurt crosses Kayâs eyes as Michael begins to stand up. âAllow me.â
âOkay,â Kay says barely audibly, sitting back down in her seat.
All it takes is a further expectant glance from Michael over to you for you to find yourself standing next to him a moment after, accompanying him to meet Fredo.
Kay gives you an awkward smile before turning her attention back over to the banquet hall to spot Fredo and Deanna.
You follow Michael across the banquet hall with Al Neri cautiously accompanying from behind as Michael leads you towards a young man in his 30s, with receding hairline neatly slicked back and combed dark, chestnut brown hair, a mustache and what you first noticed about him that took you by surpriseâaviator sunglasses on inside the banquet hall.
Fredoâs dressed in a toned-down yellow, single-breasted blazer jacket over a silky, black dress shirt with his collar worn open to tuck in a knotted, silk paisley scarf.
Dressed much more vibrant than the rest of his brothers, Fredoâs trousers are a checkered beige with gold and black patterns and a pair of white, leather loafers on his feet.
âYeah! You wouldnât believe it!â Fredo laughs, speaking to a guest.
Youâre pleasantly surprised to come across a Corleone brother so full of life; Fredo showcasing to you before a formal introduction that heâs a man of extreme charisma.
You can tell Fredo has a charming demeanor and a contagious smile; talking with his hands and using vivid language makes him seem like the life of the party in a refreshing way to you, but is also a huge shock to think about the fact that Fredo is Michaelâs biological older brother.
Michaelâs not as phased as you or the guests who listen to Fredoâs invigorating story, but the woman wrapped around Fredoâs arm certainly is.
âThat must be Deanna.â Fredoâs wife curls up to his arm with one hand and the other on her hip; a bold smirk over her face as she reaches her free hand up to ruffle her tousled, voluminous hairdo.
Fredo already appears the very opposite of Michael in your eyes despite you never having spoken a word to him.
Itâs then and there that as you and Michael approach closely and come to a standstill Fredoâs eyes fall over the two of you and light up in glee; not just to see his brother but at the sight of youâa new face, accompanying him.
âMiiiikey!â Fredo exclaims, practically throwing his wife off of his arm who scowls back at Fredo momentarily but as soon as she catches your gaze over hers, Deanna gives you a fake, polite smile.
Fredo wraps his arms around Michael to bring him in for a hug. You see Michael hesitate for a brief second due to the awkward nature of the hug, but he pats his brotherâs back gently after giving him a short hug and pulling away.
âFredo,â Michael gestures to you. âThis is our new governess, Marina Aligheri.â
âMarina Alighieri!â Fredo repeats your name in an upbeat tone, extending out his hand for you to shake. âNice to meet ya, Iâm Fredo Corleone.â
âNice to meet you too, Fredo,â you beam, shaking his hand back.
âI run all the entertainment when it comes to our familyâs hotels and resorts. The social aspect, ya know.â
Michael still appears unphased, watching your interaction with Fredo as if heâs monitoring how your formal introduction to his brother is going.
âVery nice!â
âI look forward to seeing you around,â Fredo gives you a playful wink.
âLikewise.â
âAnd hereââ Fredo spins around to scoop Deannaâs arm around him once more. âIs my beautiful wife Deanna Dunn Corleone!â
Deanna giggles, tousling her hair again and appearing relieved and flattered that sheâs finally getting her round of introductions. âHi darling, how do you do?â
âNice to meet you, Deanna,â you shake her hand.
âDeannaâs a movie star,â Fredo chuckles, âin all of the newest pictures you can find in Hollywood. Sheâs working on a new film with Johnny Fontane, you know?â
âOh?â Your eyes light in surprise at that name, an actor youâre very familiar with on the big screen.
âIâm assuming you know of him?â Michael glances at you.
âYes, of course,â you giggle back, âheâs very famous back in New York.â
âFirst his music and now his movies,â Fredo chuckles, âI betcha didnât know that Johnny was the godchild of my father.â
âItâs true,â Michael nods in confirmation.
âJohnny comes around a lot to our resorts to perform too, him and all his friends in the music and movie business. Especially now that he and Deanna are shooting a picture together, so youâll get a chance to meet Johnny for yourself too.â
âThat does sound exciting. I would love that.â
âWe can make it happen,â Michael states before abruptly changing the conversation. âThe table is expecting the two of you to join us.â
âAh, we know, Mikey.â Fredo brushes Michael off, âWeâll get there, no worries, okay?â He pats Michaelâs shoulder reassuringly, âDeanna and I just wanna make a few more rounds to say hello and then weâll all join you and everyone at the table for dinner.â
Michael locks eyes with Fredo expectantly before leading you onward. âCome, Marina.â
âWhere toââ You notice Michael gently leads you by his side further throughout the crowd of the banquet and farther away from the Corleone family dining tables.
âJust follow me,â Michael lowers his voice, giving you the queue to remain quiet and do as he says.
Nibbling on your bottom lip, you do as Michael says and walk by his side at the same pace quietly.
You keep your eyes towards the midst of the banquet hall all while avoiding making eye contact with any guests or blatantly looking around.
Inconspicuous and simply passing through, you notice how hyper-focused Michael is looking into the crowd; his eyes darting back and forth until they land somewhere amongst the crowd and hardenâfirm and lacking any emotion.
Michaelâs expression turns ice cold in mere moments, striking anxiety within you as a result.
âWhat? What is it that heâs looking at?â You desperately try to find what Michaelâs gaze focuses upon amidst the crowd to no avail.
âMarina,â Michaelâs eyes fill with concern as he looks back at you.
âYes?â You breathe out, feeling your heart beginning to pound in your chest.
âSomething is wrong. Very, very wrong.â The anxiety and tension from this situation alone make your muscles stiffen with fear.
Michaelâs voice is cautious but soft as if to soothe you as he speaks. âLook up right in front of you.â
Just as you turn around to do so, your eyes lock on two Italian men in the corner of the banquet hall holding glasses of champagne and speaking quietly to one another around a decorative fountain.
âAre they familiar?â You feel Michaelâs breath over your neck from how protectively close he moves over to you.
Your heart sinks into the bottom of your stomach as you stare at the two men; a rush of deep, twisting anxiety coursing through you as you swallow hard.
âI know who they are.â
You know who youâre looking at, but unable to put names to faces to these buttonmen, the same buttonmen who worked for the Barzini family; the same men that were sent to kill your brothers for the debt they owed that fateful night.
âOhâŚâ
Simple assassins, nothing more. Men are hired to do dirty work, have basic skills, and collect debts. Completely business, nothing personal, but two killers that killed a piece of your family nonetheless enjoying themselves at a Corleone-hosted family event.
âMarina,â Michael says your name again, beckoning you back to reality.
As you face Michael once more, your eyes stink with tears as you blink. Nothing but horror and shock register through you.
âDoes it make sense to have mobsters at an event like this? From that family? Why? How does Michael know of any of this?â A thousand questions buzz through your mind as you find the answers to them all in Michaelâs eyes.
âEverythingâs going to be fine,â Michael squeezes both of your wrists reassuringly.
âIâŚâ You let out a soft, disoriented breathâfeeling dazed from the jumble of emotions suffocating you.
âItâs those men, isnât it?â
âY-yes,â you stammer back. âBut h-how do you know?â
Michael doesnât answer you, shifting his attention back to the men, but you insist.
âHow do you know, Michael?â You touch his arm, pulling Michaelâs attention back to you.
âHow could I not know?â Michael stares back at you.
When it comes to you, thereâs little to nothing Michael doesnât already know, and for a man like him to know, he must have run a background search on you and your entire family. Would that include the deaths of your brothers by mobsters? Would anyone be able to hide something like that from Michael Corleone?
âYouâre certain, arenât you?â Michael asks.
âY-yes,â you answer, your voice shaking. âI remember them too well. Thatâs them.â
âStay close to me,â Michael murmurs, wrapping an arm around your back and pulling you to the opposite side of the crowd.
Dazed and confused but electrified by Michaelâs warm touch against your skin, the two of you move back to the Corleone family tables.
With such a protective touch over you, any sense of anxiety melts off your body as Michael ensures nobody bumps into you from the crowd or touches you.
Once the Corleone family tables are back in sight, Michael lets go of you as if nothing happenedâexpecting you to take your seat back at the table.
âDinner must go on,â Michael tells you, âbut after this, you need to talk to me aboutââ
âWhatâs there to say?â You breathe out. âThey found their way here, didnât think?â
âYou think theyâll leave here alive?â Michael stares back at you. âGo, Marina. Sit down at the table and worry about dinner and nothing else. Do I make myself clear?â
You feel as if youâre in a trance as you make your way back to the tables, trying to focus on the present with everyone around youâhaving returned without Michael.
The serving of the main course meal gives you time to get yourself together and distract the others through dinner-related conversation, some stories being told about family travels, and the like around you.
You smile, pay attention, and listen, but donât have much to say as the continuous feeling of anxiety and fear gnaws inside of you, reminding you through every painful moment that your brothersâ killers are attending this very gala.
Despite the rush of emotions over you, thereâs a sense of safety with the Corleones you canât deny. The ongoing conversations feel natural and like youâre at home and a part of themânot to mention the mouthwatering scents of the main dishes being served, fond culinary dishes from the old country.
The aroma of the Sicilian rabbit being served is heavenly, smothered in a sweet and sour sauce next to the savory truffle roasted duck and richly cooked guinea fowl and braised leeks, dashed with a touch of rosemary.
Paired with the white Bordeaux, youâve now only begun to realize just how hungry youâve become with these luxurious dishes placed in front of you.
You savor the taste of the delicious, well-cooked meats on your tongue with the creaminess of the braised leeks down to the tenderness of the roasted duck.
Only a few moments after dinner is served does Michael return to the table and take his seat next to you, already engrossed in the conversation his family is having but only returning one-worded, dry replies and paying more attention to Kay speaking more than anyone else.
âRelax, just relax,â you tell yourself, focusing on the meal. You can blame nobody but yourself for how you feel, even though Michaelâs still given you a sliver of comfort and protection.
You try not to frown or make your emotions obvious over your expression, but you hyperfocus on your meal consistently throughout dinner until you hear Kayâs voice call out your name.
You look up and smile at Kay politely, but itâs far too late to let the distraction and mellowness in your eyes go unnoticed.
âAre you alright, darling?â
âIâm fine,â you muster up an answer, but you can tell Kay wonât simply accept that and leave it as is. âJust feeling really tired and Iâm not sure where itâs coming from.â
Thereâs no world that exists where you can simply tell Kay your anxiety is getting the better of you right here and right now because your brothersâ murderers are here enjoying the gala too and may just now have been placed on a hit list of some kind by Michael.
âThis is all becoming too much.â
âOh honey, donât strain yourself too much,â Kay pouts. âSometimes the exhaustion of the trip hits you later on, I know how it can feel. Itâs a lot to handleâall the noise and the flight,â she lets out a soft sigh. âHowâs your dinner?â
âItâs incredible to say the last,â you let out a breathy laugh. âI really donât want to let it go to waste.â
âAnd you donât have to,â she replies. âWe can have it brought up to your room fresh and warm, but Iâm going to feel awful just sitting here and seeing you in discomfort, waiting on an inevitable headache.â
âRight,â you nod weakly, âI may have to excuse myself, Iâm sorry.â
âOh please donât ever apologize for that!â Kay shakes her head, âitâs completely alright, Marina. The night is still young, and we have an afterparty too. You should rest up and take care of yourself until then. We can have your meal brought up to you and you can have a bit of peace and quiet away from all this noise.â
âThank you,â you say in relief, slowly beginning to rise out of your seat.
Michael watches you get up from the corner of his eye, having listened to your conversation with Kay but remains unmoved otherwise.
âOf course,â Kay turns around to gesture a waiter to make their way over, pointing at your plates.
âThereâs nothing but death.â You avoid looking towards the opposite end of the banquet; the faces of the two buttonmen so clearly engraved in the back of your mind.
âI canât be here with them. I just canât.â Taking a deep breath, you manage to calm yourself down as you get further away from the bustle and excitement of your gala and back up the elevator to your suite.
The further you get, the more at ease you feel and you know if you can just take a bit to yourself alone, you can manage and still make it down for the afterparty but right now you absolutely donât want to focus on any part of the banquet and let your anxiety escalate.
âAt least Michael knows. At least he cares, or at least I want him toâŚâ
After stepping out of the elevator, youâre quick to get back into your suite and quietly shut the door behind you.
You squeeze your eyes shut, letting out a sigh of relief as you take in the silence within the suite, the light scent of vanilla and lavender air freshener wafting around you, and the promise of a comfortable, luxurious suite room to rest in.
âIâll relax for a bit, itâs all I need right now.â Setting down your clutch and slipping off your heels, you let your feet take in the comfort of walking over the faux fur rug before you begin to unclasp your earrings and take off your necklace.
Heading into the bedroom, you carefully set down your jewelry in the very box Michael gave them to you in upon the vanity table, knowing youâll put them back on when you head back down for the afterparty.
You turn around to gaze at yourself in the full-body mirror diagonally facing your bed, stepping forward towards it and debating whether you should take off your dress as you run your hands over the satiny fabric.
You smile shyly at yourself, admiring the gorgeous, scarlet fabric and how it makes you feel both comfortable and beautiful, and you arenât even the one to pick it out for yourself.
âHe picked it out for me.â Blushing yet again over Michael, you move towards the closet and open it, pulling out a spare hanger from a dozen.
Youâre careful to slowly strip out of your dress without stepping on it or wrinkling the fabric, hanging it up in plain sight inside the closet.
Only in your white lacy panties without a bra, do you take your nightgown out of your luggage and slip into itâletting the soft fabric wrap around you snug.
Walking barefoot out towards the kitchen, you glance at the refrigerator and wonder if you could find some wine before the rest of your food service gets here; perhaps something less expensive and luxurious but sweeter as you pass the time in your suite.
Just as you approach the refrigerator and reach out your hand to open it, you freeze. The sound of your hotel room being unlocked rings in your ears and you begin to listen intently.
Your heart skips a beat for just a moment as urgent questions rush through your mind; did one of Michaelâs men mistake you for being at the party and are just making rounds to check for security? Does someone else have access to your suite that you donât know about? Surely the room service would knock instead of intrude like this so suddenly?
Unable to react, your eyes land on the door and all you can notice is that whoever is opening the door is doing so quietly and with care without making a scene; almost too careful and eerie, the way an experienced thief would want to enter.
Itâs only Michael Corleone.
Your heart flutters from the sudden but more than welcome surprise as a rush of butterflies swarms in your gut. Your blood rushes to your face, causing your cheeks to blush intensely.
As you see Michael walk in, you grip the handle of the fridge tightly in the reaction without opening it, seeing Michaelâs eyes directly on you as if he wants to meet you in the kitchen right here and now.
You donât even know what to say; frozen on the spot from a rush of emotions hitting you all at onceâdelight, pleasant surprise, is it so wrong to say? Is it wrong to think maybe this is all you could want?
âWhy here? Why now?â
âI didnât anticipate youâd retire from the evening so soon,â Michael speaks in a low, velvety voiceâenough to make you weak in the knees just like that.
Flustered, you attempt to speak back. âOnly to catch my breath. I wouldnât want to miss the rest of it.â
Michael refuses to take his eyes off of you as he slips his dress shoes off by the door. âSo you plan on returning for the evening.â
Suddenly you feel naked before Michaelâs eyes as he approaches you, already so vulnerable in nothing but your nightgown and panties.
The tips of your ears burn hot with blush as you find yourself all the more flustered, but you canât tell if Michaelâs noticed or paying attention to how youâre dressed since his eyes are locked with yours.
âI want to,â you say, breathily.
âAre you enjoying yourself here?â Michael stands only a few feet away from you in the kitchen now as you let go of the refrigeratorâs handle.
âIâve never experienced anything like this,â you shake your head.
âAm I overthinking it all?â
âItâs breathtaking, but itâs all so new. I hope you donât mistake me for being ungrateful to be here.â
âNot at all,â Michael replies dryly, âbut I know why youâre here.â
âWhat?â Itâs no secret to Michael from how rosy your cheeks are down to your body language reacting out of an arousal youâre desperate to hide.
Youâre not so shy alone with him now; each and every muscle in your body desires Michael and is filled with passion.
The only thing that distracts Michael is how you tense up your shoulders from arousal, causing one strap of your nightgown to slip off of your shoulder.
You glance at the strap that threatens to slip off well past your arm, feeling practically naked before Michael and pulsating with warmth over your body from heightening arousal.
The sexual tension between the two of you standing in front of each other in silence builds to an uncontrollable level inside of you, building a delicious throbbing sensation inside of you.
You donât know whether to beg Michael to take you on your knees here and now over the kitchen counter or feel embarrassed at what just happened beyond your control.
Michael takes a single step forward towards you and raises his hand towards the strap of your nightgown.
You assume for a split second heâll only move the strap back up to your shoulder, but you feel the fabric of your panties beginning to cling to clit from the wetness pooling over it.
Michael keeps his eyes on you as he pulls the strap of your nightgown further with one little tug, causing it to slip off your chest almost entirely as your breasts spring free.
An inaudible âohâ escapes your lips as Michael moves his hand back down to your wrist, gently grabbing it and speaking to you in a demanding and firm yet soft voice. âGo to the bedroom, Marina.â
The fiery passion that courses through your entire body in a wave of heat is unexplainableâsimply foreign to anything youâve ever felt towards a man and only just on the physical level.
The arousal pent up inside of you tingles in your stomach, spreading up to your chest. Every inch of your body feels hot to the touch, your eyes solely focused on Michael and Michael only.
You feel as if your heart could burst out of your chest in this very moment, pulled to this man like a moth to a flame with an urge to let everything goârisk it all just to have his body pressed up against yours for a single moment.
Itâs a gnawing hunger inside of you to crave Michael, seeing nothing but the idea and fantasy of having him all to yourself even if it could be just for one night.
All of you want all of Michael, completely and utterly insatiable. No other person or feeling could come close to taking you away from what you feel youâre about to have with this man.
Picturing Michaelâs firm, big hands over your breasts is enough to send you into a state of ecstasy, let alone how he could pleasure you further and make love to you tonight if he wanted to.
The coolness in the suit brushes up against your exposed skin, hardening your nipples further than they already were from arousal.
âGo on,â Michaelâs voice is lowered to a whisper as he gestures towards the bedroom.
Like clockwork, you do as Michael says without hesitationâfeeling light on your feet as you make your way over to the bedroom.
You sense and hear Michael following behind at a close distance which makes your knees buckle a little as if they could give in from weakness at any moment now.
Each step you take only crinkles and pulls your nightgown down off of your body further, threatening to spill further down your hips.
When you enter the bedroom and move towards the king-sized bed, you hear Michael shut the bedroom door behind the both of you quietly.
Youâre only able to take a few more steps closer to the foot of the bed before Michael grabs your wrist again, gently turning you around to face him.
Blushing furiously and dazed in spot, you watch as Michael raises his hand towards your chest, pausing for a moment.
Michael locks eyes with you as he asks, âCan I touch you?â
âYes,â you breathe out, almost pleading for him to.
Michael places his hand over the fabric of your falling nightgown, so close to your breasts; his touch feeling electric and hot to the touch, everything youâve ever wanted to relish in.
âMichaelââ
âTake this off,â Michael beckons to your wrinkled nightgown.
âHe wants me to undress in front of him.â
Nodding shyly, you pull the nightgown down and off of you with ease, letting it slide down your thighs and pool to your feet on the ground.
Michaelâs eyes beckon further as he speaks, eyeing your panties. âStrip.â
âGodâŚâ
You slip your fingers into the band of your lace panties, almost trembling with excitement and arousal sparking through you as you pull them down your thighs and off of your ankles.
âCome here,â Michael beckons with his finger, wanting you fully naked up close and all to himself.
As you step towards him, Michaelâs quick to wrap an arm around your waist and pull you closer to his body.
The fabric of Michaelâs dress shirt rubs against your nipples as he tilts your chin up to face him. âHow long have you wanted this?â
Your breath hitches as you attempt to respond, feeling Michaelâs hand squeezing your right breast. Your eyes canât help but watch him do so as Michael rubs your nipple in between his fingers.
âTell me,â he presses; the look in his eyes a mix of desire and possessiveness.
âHow can I tell him Iâve craved him since I first laid eyes on him?â
Michael already knows well enough. He admires how close you come to telling him the truth, but he wants to pleasure it out of you first.
âYou are my governess. I hired you to work for my family,â he speaks, letting both of his hands roam over your breasts gently. âThis is my gala, my hotel. It belongs to me, and now⌠so do you.â
Taking his free hand, Michael traces your bottom lip with his finger slowly. âThatâs what you want, isnât it? To be mine?â
To belong to Michael Corleone, to be desired in such a way that he possesses you as his⌠Nothing could excite and thrill you more; than the lure of everything he says.
Here is a man of power and wealth, Michael Corleone. A man who not only likes having control over everything in his life but ensures he does, and for those surrounding him as well. How can you ever be an exception?
âAlways,â you answer backâno shame, nothing left to hold back.
You were his before he stepped into this hotel room before you undressed in front of him, and before he touched you.
Like every perfect fantasy you could ever have, it all plays out before you and you refuse to hold back in the heat of the moment.
âYou are mine now, do you understand?â
âYes, sir,â you whisper.
âI am. Iâm yours.â
âGet on the bed for me, sweetheart.â
Nodding shakily out of arousal, you crawl onto the bed on all foursâsitting in the middle of it completely naked.
Shivering, you look up to see Michael approach the bed, beginning to loosen his tie. âI want you on your hands on your knees.â
You do as Michael says, turning over to get your hands on your kneesâarching your back, and feeling completely exposed to Michael.
You hear the soft drop of Michaelâs tie falling to the floor and his suit jacket being hung over your vanity tableâs chair before he kneels on the bed behind you.
âMichael,â you whimper out, feeling him so close to your body.
âShhhhâŚâ Michael whispers from behind, gripping your hips with both hands.
Your breath hitches as you squeeze your legs together out of arousal; completely naked and exposed for Michael with your ass and pussy in his face as both your hands clutch the duvet.
Michaelâs hands are firm and needy but soft, holding onto you with possession as he speaks, âIâll take good care of you.â
Michael begins to run his hands up and down your lower back slowly, tracing lazy circles.
A shiver goes down your spine as you give a small nod back, squeezing your eyes shut and simply relishing in the moment.
All the more erotic to you as you canât see what Michaelâs doing but Michaelâs touch over your supple skin causes a passionate fire to course through you.
Michaelâs eyes momentarily flicker down to your pussy as he sees a glistening wetness forming between your lips. Michael begins to move closer, tenderly yet lightly massaging your back.
âI want you to be honest with me, MarinaâŚâ Michael slowly pulls his hands back.
âY-yes?â
Michael unbuckles his belt, tossing it to the floor, and unbuttons his trousers. âAre you a virgin?â
âYes,â you answer honestly.
A brief silence falls in between the two of you and a sense of nervousness almost hits you off guard as you wonder if this is a good or bad thing on Michaelâs behalf, but his next question catches you entirely off guard.
âYou still havenât answered my previous question. How long have you wanted this?â You feel Michael begin to mount you from behind, roaming one hand underneath you and down your chest to squeeze a breast while his other hand spreads your upper inner thigh. âTell me.â
âIââ You let out a shuddering moan at the sensation of Michaelâs thumb beginning to ever so slowly toy over your clit, now parting over your pussy lips and slightly beginning to spread you open.
âBe a good girl and tell me,â Michael leaves a hot, lingering kiss over your right shoulder.
Your legs quiver against Michaelâs body as you say, âForever.â
âMmâŚâ More than just content by your answer, it confirms everything Michaelâs already thought about you.
Michael rubs your ass cheeks, giving them a light slap as he lets his erection spring free from his trousers. âIâm going to be good to you.â
âOh God, yes, please. PleaseâŚâ
Michael suddenly grabs both of your thighs firmly, pinning you down flat on your stomach before gently flipping you on your back to face him.
Pushing away stray strands of your hair away from your face, Michael comes face to face with you, only wearing his half-buttoned, loose white dress shirtâstroking his cock in one hand while his eyes are locked on you.
The sight of seeing how fully erect Michael is before you makes your pussy throb from arousal; none of this is supposed to happen but the two of you have completely given into each otherâs lust.
Itâs the first time for Michael to feel such a powerful arousal take over him, barely having done anything at all with anybody.
Gazing down at Michaelâs tip, you watch as his cock glistens with droplets of precum forming at the tip and beginning to ooze down his cockâs head.
Two veins run down Michaelâs thick shaft circumcised and bragging just about eight inches.
Michael watches as you admire his body before you, noticing how the peak of chest hair from his half-unbuttoned shirt stands out to you; how smooth his milky, soft skin looks down to the muscles in his arms tensing from his rolled-up sleeves. Such a close-up of Michaelâs toned, slim bodyâŚ
âLet go and let me,â Michael murmurs, running his hands up and down your thighs.
Painfully aroused more than anything, Michaelâs doing nothing but building up your arousal to the brim before he does anything else with you; especially concerned with your comfort and eager to get you as wet as possible first.
âYou look incredible, you know that?â Michael begins to slowly spread your thighs open.
You blush furiously, momentarily turning your head away.
âClose your eyes,â he breathes, âand let me feel you.â
Doing as he says, Michael wastes no time in moving down between your thighs and placing your ankles over his shoulders.
Only with ever so slightly open eyes, hazed and dazed from the incoming pleasure do you watch Michael begin to tease and please you.
Michael leaves gentle, wet kisses up from your legs to your upper thighs but the closer he gets to your pussy, the longer he begins to drag out his kisses.
Dangerously close, Michaelâs kisses grow heavier before he begins to sloppily suckle over the skin in the crease of your inner thighs.
A shaky moan escapes your lips as Michael truly lowers himself in, parting open your pussy lips with his fingers.
Michaelâs slim fingers slick over your wet clit, up and down in tantalizing motions. It takes everything in you not to squirm from the pleasure over Michaelâs shoulders, let alone vocalizing just exactly what this man is doing to you.
Michael changes his patterns, beginning to add two fingers to slick and rub in circles as he continues to kiss around your upper thighs.
You can feel your wetness doubling, trickling out of your pussy as youâre unable to take your eyes off of the erotic sight of Michael now grazing his tongue over your inner thighs.
Letting out little breathy moans, you gaze down at Michael with half-open eyes, gyrating your hips over his fingers as he continues to circle your clit painfully slow.
âIâmâŚâ You moan softly, âIâm yoursâooh, Iâm yours.â
Michael slowly begins to curl his index finger, snaking it inside of you. You whimper out of reaction, squealing as Michael adds a second finger and dips it in and out of you before momentarily popping them in his mouth to taste your sweetness.
Flustered and embarrassed, your eyes snap shut in response to Michael moving upwardâtilting your chin with his free hand as his soft lips crush over yours.
Michaelâs kiss grows needy and deep, joining his tongue with yours as you feel your clit almost swollen with arousal at his touch.
Stimulated so much, you feel an orgasm beginning to build from all the teasing and nothing more; rolling your eyes back in pleasure and picturing yourself bouncing over Michaelâs cock.
As Michael lets go of tilting your chin, he pumps his cock at the same pace he fingers you in, readying himself for your orgasm knowing he hasnât even scratched the surface of what he plans to do to you tonight.
Waves of pleasure hit you as filthy moans escape your mouth; melting around Michaelâs dominance and giving in to him completely.
Through parted lips, Michael grunts; a look of yearning flickering in his hazel eyes that causes your shyness to spike up as the two of you make eye contact again.
Michael fully spreads your legs around his waist, pressing his hands down on both sides of the bed around you as he moves his head down and plans a sloppy kiss right over your pussy lips.
Wanting to sink into the bed out of shyness, the sight of Michaelâs smoldering gaze between your legs is too much for you to handle all at once.
Taking your reactions as a green light, Michael darts his tongue up and down your clit, letting his bottom lip and mouth rest on the entirety of your pussy as he begins to eat you out.
âOhâmy God!â You cry out, watching as Michael slobbers over your pussy and slowly laps up your wetness with his tongue.
The sensation of Michaelâs hot mouth over your pussy with his stubble brushing up against your clit is heavenly as he Michael keeps up a quickened pace, grinding his tongue against your clit.
You almost see stars from a delicious orgasm quickly building inside of you as Michaelâs face is completely pressed into your sex.
Michael smirks at your juices beginning to trickle down your ass and thighs, pulling back just moments before you can reach an orgasm.
Whimpering out of breath, you watch as Michael kneels back up on the bed against your body.
Michaelâs cock twitches against your pussy and your body desperately wants to cry out for him to fuck you; your wetness already beginning to ooze down and coat Michaelâs shaft.
Michaelâs eyes search yours for an answer, and you give him a shy nod of approval; forcing yourself not to fall apart at his touch.
âYou taste so good, you know that? So sweetâŚâ Michael begins to position his cock at your entrance, letting the length of his shaft slide up and down your slit.
âOh G-GodâŚâ Your hips writhe against Michaelâs in utter arousal.
âTell me you want me,â Michael presses his forehead against yours, breathing deeply.
The sensation of Michael beginning to slowly enter you drives every sensitive, weak spot inside of you insane.
âI-I want you. I want youâ" Your eyes flutter shut in response as you relax your muscles, desperately wanting every inch of Michaelâs cock to fill you.
You feel your insides clench in erotic response to Michaelâs perfect, naked body before youâfeeling the shaft of his cock press over your soaked mound.
Just the touch of Michaelâs tip against your clit alone sends fire crawling through your skin as you begin to wrap your thighs around his waist and bury your face into Michaelâs shoulder.
âGood girl.â
You take in the heavenly scent of Michaelâs cologne and his clean, supple skin as he keeps you pinned down in the perfect, folded missionary position.
Michael thrusts in ever so slowly and as you begin to feel an inch of him enter you, a slight burning sensation mixes in with a momentary sharp mix of pleasure and pain as you dig your nails into his shoulders.
âOoohââ
âBaby, thatâs not even half of me,â Michael whispers against your skin.
The feelings subside almost instantly with how wet and aroused you are and you feel your clit throbbing against Michael.
âMm!â You feel all eight inches of Michael thrust inside you; his waistline coming into contact with yours as his cock fills you completely.
Hearing the wetness of your pussy begin to slosh against each thrust from Michaelâs cock, you cry out in pleasure and frustration, âM-Michael! Oh!â
Michaelâs quick to beckon the orgasm he refused to let you have earlier, feeling how your knees quiver against him as a sensation of numbness from your orgasm growing dangerously threatens to release.
âIn and out⌠In and outâŚâ
Michael grips your waist with both hands, fucking you at a deep but slow pace to let his cock brush up against your G-spot while keeping a steady rhythm inside of you.
Legs wrapped obediently around Michael, you cry out as you watch Michaelâs clock slide in and out of you again with ease.
âP-please, pleaseââ Begging for release, you feel your pussy contracting against Michaelâs member, your words half-slurred from the intense sensations racking over your body.
Itâs then that Michael slows his thrusts to excruciatingly slow but teasing deeply, tilting his hips into you as he watches you squirm against his cock.
âCum for me, baby.â
Cumming in an explosive orgasm, you clasp a hand over your mouth to muffle out your screams of delight.
âThatâs rightâŚ.â Michael places his hand over yours, gently prying it off your mouth. âDonât be shy, I want to hear you. I want to hear how good I make you feel.â
âY-yes sirââ You feel Michaelâs hips quicken his pace, fucking you steadily once again as the moans that spill out of your mouth are louder and louder with each thrust. âO-Oh! Yes!â
Your legs shake against Michaelâs shoulder blades; your arousal is only fueled further by hearing Michaelâs breathy grunts and groans in between thrusts.
Michael thrusts upwards and steals another moan from you as you roll your hips back at him, desperately begging for each and every thrust.
The scent of sex fills the bedroom as Michael pumps in and out of your pussy, obsessed with just the way you remain obediently sprawled and submissive before him on the bedâtaking in all of him.
Michael brings you to loud uncontrollable moans as he builds his orgasm with your next one, watching as your toes curl in response.
A sense of numbness tingles through your knees as your orgasm releases out of you in an instant, making you moan out in complete ecstasy.
Letting your climax unwind, you feel the warmth of your orgasm rack over your body from all sides as you cum over Michaelâs cock.
Enthralled by every inch of you, you gaze out of half-open eyes to see Michaelâs scouring over yours hungrily, filled with a deep, delicious desire unraveling out of him as his body trembles.
Your cries of pleasure echo throughout the suite room as Michaelâs breathing deepens. He jerks his hips inside of you a final time before spilling his seed deep inside your pussy.
Your thighs quiver like jelly as you attempt to catch your breath, clenching your legs around Michaelâs waist.
Michaelâs once slicked back, neat dark hair now remains a messy, tousled mess sticking to his forehead from sweat; his eyes appearing as dark as onyx from the lighting as his body hovers over yours.
âMm!â You whimper as Michael begins to slowly pull out of you, leaving you as dazed as ever from pleasure.
âTheyâre expecting me,â Michael murmurs to you as he reaches for his belt and dress pants.
âY-yesâŚâ You breathe out.
âAnd you,â his eyes flicker back to yours for a moment as Michael begins to get dressed before you. âI expect you at the banquet hall, but I wonât hold it against you.â
Licking your lips, you clench at the bedsheets to regain your balance and sit up. âWhat do you meanâŚ?â
âIf you can walk,â Michael gives your thighs a playful smack.
Blushing furiously, you avoid his gaze. âIâŚâ
âYou will speak of this to no one,â Michaelâs tone suddenly grows stern as he smoothens out his dress shirt, beginning to button it back up. âAnd pretend each and every time that weâve never spent this time together.â
âEvery time?â You repeat, eyes widening.
âYou are mine, arenât you?â Michael tightens his tie over his collar.
âYes,â you admit a little too gleefully.
âThen I will have you again and again if youâre willing to have me,â Michael slows down his movements, fixated on your response.
You nod back at him shyly, grabbing at the duvet to cover your dignity.
âIâm going to enjoy our arrangement, Marina.â Michael finishes dressing himself, running his hands through his hair to tame it back neatly. âOnly as much as you.â
âW-whenâŚâ You stammer, still catching your breath. âWhen will I see you again? Have you?â
âHave me?â Michael raises a brow, a ghost of a smirk over the corners of his lips. âYou already have me, Marina. I will let you know.â
#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#the other woman fic#the other woman fanfic
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MASTERLIST PART FOUR
Unchained Melody (Part Five)
Summary: On the path to mending your fragile marriage, you and Tommy can't bear to stay more than a few moments away from each other. In more ways than one. But as joy and laughter returns to the halls of Arrow House during an evening of ball gowns and tuxedos. The Governess, left scorned and bitter, makes the final arrangements for her deadly plan of revenge.
Warnings: Language, smut (Minors DNI), fluff, postpartum depression, violence, one racial slur, angst
Word count: 5340
Authors note: Thank you for everyone's patience as I took some time away from Tumblr. It's been a while since I have written anything, so I'm a little rusty. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter!
"Tea, Mr...Dogs?" Frances asked, unsure of how to address the burly built man striding though the doors of Arrow House as he removed his green tweed cap from his head. His informal manner never ceasing to stop the head housekeeper from entering a dizzying muddle as she clutched to keep things as one would expect in the grand house she managed.
" Touch of whisky Frances. That'll be grand" he replied, stamping his mud-crusted boots onto the freshly polished floors that had recently been cleaned for the event set to take place that evening as he looked down at his pocket watch. Eight in the morning. Never too early to fire up the old lungs with one of Tommy's finest whiskys. He thought to himself as he looped his thumbs under his suspenders, taking in the grand foyer and all its fineries. He could get accustomed to this.
"Johnny boy!" Tommy greeted loudly to his old friend as he walked down the grand staircase. The smile on his face a pleasant change from the solemn frown that had become customary as of late.
"Nice digs you got 'ere Tom. Any spare rooms going, ey?" He replied with a hearty laugh, shaking your husband's hand with a firm pat on his arm.
" Not enough for your brood, and the dozen you've got scattered across the county, Johnny" Tommy replied with a chuckle, his sudden turn in mood a stark difference from the one he had replaced for the past two years. His humor further set on improving with what he hoped was next to come out of his trusted friend's mouth.
" In good spirits ey, Tommy?" Johnny replied as you made your way down the staircase with William hitched on your waist, babbling a nursery rhyme as he enthusiastically bounced up and down in your arms.
" Something like that..." Tommy's voice trailed off as he turned to face you, adoration and pride beaming lovingly through his eyes at the sight of you both together. Reunited, finally.
As in love as the day he laid eyes on you, Tommy watched as you slowly descended down each step. Recounting the night, you stayed curled up beside him watching the fire he had lit in the living room of your grand home settle into charred blackness as you both fell asleep soundly within each other's arms after having come to blows over what desperately needed to be said.
"...will be made better with what you've got to tell me" he quietly replied, not wanting you to overhear, nor have your settled worries be bogged down once again.
" A cousin up in Scotland" Johnny spoke in a hushed voice as he sent William a wave and a wink your way.
" That's it?" Tommy replied with a furrowed brow, hoping for more information on the woman that had caused nothing but turbulence since her employment, and a shame your husband wanted to be rid of.
" There's been talk, Tom. In the women's wash house", Johnny added, placing a cigarette tightly between his lips, puffing the fumes through the corner of his mouth.
" Gossip Johnny. I need something better than what tattling old women have to say" Tommy replied, taking the pack of cigarettes and lighting his own as he watched the morning rays of sun glisten on your glossy smile, completely unaware of the goings-on and the vicious nature of the woman hired to care for your child.
" Kin to every man in Birmingham. Nothing gets past them, Tom. I'd stake my life on those old women's whispers" he spoke quietly, before turning his back to you and revealing what the nattering of the town had to say about the Governess in a hushed voice as you opened the dining room door and a triumphant smile grew on your husband's lips.
" Now that is interesting, Johnny. Very interesting"
With your mind still plagued with worry, you couldn't help but let the guilt of your lapse in parenting weigh down your thoughts as you sat opposite young William at the large dining table and back in your rightful seat as you awaited your husband. As your hands hovered nervously over your lips, you watched intently as your son took each mouthful of toast, your eyes darting back and forth to the fading red blotches that covered his skin.
" William?" You gasped, your eyes widening as your hand flew across the table to him when a small cough left his buttery mouth.
" He's fine darling" Tommy said as he entered the room, just as you was ready to bolt up and scoop him into your arms to the nearest doctor. " Forgets to chew. Don't you son?" Tommy smiled as his heavy hand brushed along your back, coming to settle on your shoulder.
" Yes..." You replied with a shaky voice looking back at your son, unconvinced of his well-being as your face twisted in worry.
" Hey, look at me Y/N" Tommy said, resting his thumb on your chin, gently turning your head to face him. "He's ok, darling. I promise" He said with raised brows, softly brushing the warmth of your cheek with his calloused hand. Wanting you to be rid of any lingering doubt.
" He's ok" you repeated your husband's comforting words as you settled your hand over his, bringing it down to the table where Tommy quickly intertwined his fingers into yours and you stayed there undisturbed, enjoying the closeness the morning of just the three of you alone brought. That was until the headache that came in the form of a scorned, spiteful woman with her own menacing agenda charged through the dining room.
" Get out" Tommy quickly snapped with a huff. Swiftly laying out the rules of the home he should have done long before your return.
Begrudgingly tolerant of the woman who had thrown a spanner into the sensitivity of his business contacts, his patience had all but evaporated with the learnt information Johnny had shared with him that morning. But with Tommy now holding the upper hand, her wager was in dire jeopardy. The Governesses time left at Arrow House had rapidly descended into hours, if not minutes.
" I need Gerry to take me in the car" she said as she stood at the end of the table, her talons clicking impatiently on the mahogany wood.
" No" Tommy flatly stated as he lifted a cigarette to his mouth, mumbling incoherently his own choice words for her to leave under his breath as he lit a match.
" Tom" you quietly said as you rested your hand on his knee, cooling the rapidly burning fury within him, you knew was dangerously close to boiling over.
For even after her blatant disrespect towards you and the relationship you were trying to rebuild with your family. The last thing you wanted was for your young child's impressionable mind to see his father's anger slip out in front of him over a woman you knew full well was purposely trying to infuriate not only your husband, but you yourself, who had taken back your position she felt now belonged to her. Keep calm and carry on. The British way. And in this situation, the only warranted reaction.
" Taking my family into the city this morning. So..." He shrugged as he glared at her. "Walk" Tommy brushed her off, your intimate touch enough to catch him off guard and stop him from giving her the marching orders she was long overdue right then and there. In turn, sparing you from the outburst he knew she'd unleash and the encounters they had, she would undoubtedly reveal just to hinder your mending heart.
" Perfect. I'm heading that way too" her mouth curled into a smile as her eyes narrowed in on your husband.
" That's fine. Right, Tommy? " you said, squeezing your husband's thigh as your eyes darted to William intently watching his father's changing expression in response to her refusal to keep her distance, and the constant reminder of his lack of loyalty, even in your absence her presence brought.
" Right" Tommy replied clearing his throat, more preoccupied by the feeling of your hand resting soothingly on his leg. Wanting to feel closer to you. Patiently waiting for the moment you would approach him.
A family outing into town with a fourth wheel in tow. The quicker she was gone, the better. Tommy would no longer stand around with such niceties. She would be gone by the end of the day. Kicking and screaming, then so be it. But she'd be gone. He'd promised himself.
" Mr Shelby! Mr Shelby!" The young kitchen aid called out, catching up to Tommy as you headed out the door with William toddling beside you.
" What is it Billy?" Tommy replied with a furrowed brow as he placed his peak cap on his head, motioning for you and William to walk ahead to the Bentley waiting outside.
" I...I need to speak with you" he stammered out, unaccustomed to speaking directly to the head of the house he worked in.
Fair and just. Tommy had never given any member of his staff a reason to fear him. But with the worried glances over his shoulder and his fumbling demeanor, the kitchen boy had not only Tommy's full attention but nagging curiosity as to what had him looking so nervous.
" Billy?" Tommy questioned, his hand firmly resting on his shoulder as he patiently waited for him to speak when the young man's eyes shot across the foyer to the Governess striding through. Her piercing glare enough for him to recoil and quickly apologise for having stopped your husband.
"N..nothing. Sorry to have bothered you sir" he said timidly stepping away as Tommy's head snapped back to the sound of the Governesses heels loudly echoing past him.
" Me, my wife or Frances. No matter the issue Billy, you come to one of us" Tommy said as he watched young Billy's eyes follow the Governess outside. " Understood? Billy?" He added, as the kitchen aid nodded before quickly returning back to the long days' work that awaited him in preparation for the gala of investors Tommy had planned for that evening.
There was no doubt in Tommy's mind that what young Billy had to say was halted by the presence of the Governess. Although determined to get to the bottom of what had occurred. For now his attention lay with you, his family. And the much-needed time he was desperate to spend with you. Just the three of you. At last.
After a short car ride into the city, with the Governess glaring at you with every second that passed, her eyes green with envy as she watched Tommy's thumb brush soothingly over your hand. You were relieved to finally pull up onto Watery Lane, and escape the tension her formidable stare had created.
"I don't think so" Tommy said with a smirk, his hand grasped firmly on the handle of the door to the betting shop, blocking the Governesses unwelcome attempts to follow you and William into the soot-covered terrace house and into the welcome arms of the Shelby family awaiting you. " Times up, love. Pack your bags and be gone by tonight" he said with a look of disgust, dismissing any further conversation with the woman he began to loathe.
" You're forgetting Tommy, that..." She began to seethe, thinking she still had the ultimate ace in her pack of cleverly played cards, before your husband swiftly stopped her in her tracks.
"That what, eh?" Tommy laughed, belittling any superiority she felt she still held over the situation. " You're not as clever as you think you are, sweetheart" Tommy said lighting a cigarette, blowing the fumes in her scorned face as annoyance settled on her perfectly primed brows.
" Been working your way around the whole country, haven't you? Thought you struck gold when you came knocking at my door. Guess you didn't expect my wife to come back though, eh?" Tommy said grabbing her chin, only a mere portion of the information he had learnt from Johnny briefly slipping through his gritted teeth as the Governesses face dropped at her scheming ways being unveiled.
" You'll regret this, Tommy Shelby. You and your precious wife" she spat back as Tommy's grip tightened.
" Get the fuck out of my house. And if you don't, I'll throw you out myself" Tommy snapped as his fingers dug against the bone of her jaw. "Believe me darling, nothing is beneath me. Even when dealing with the fairer sex" he warned her as he pushed her chin away from him out into the cobbled streets in front of his childhood home. Her blatant threats aimed at you enough for Tommy's questionable moral compass to slip even further. If he was going to kill a woman, it would be her. " Stay away from my wife and child" he warned her as he slammed the betting shop door in her face, leaving her fuming with a boiling rage the residents of Watery Lane precariously stayed clear of as they made their way back to their homes.
" What?!" She snapped as two young children hurried past her. Their eyes quickly averting to anything but the reddened-faced woman now marching down the muddied streets in the direction of where her new intentions now lied.
" Still 'ere then?" Esme asked, arms crossed, nose scrunched as she leaned against the shelf the Governess was scanning in the small convenience shop on the corner of the main street of Small Heath. " My John says Tommy's given you your marching orders" Esme said cracking a smile, her and everyone else in the Shelby family having never warmed to the woman that was intent on replacing you in every way.
" With child again, Esme?" the Governess scoffed as she looked down her nose past her hazel features to the swell of her stomach. " Don't your lot ever stop? What's this one? Third, fourth? I can't keep up " she laughed as she returned to the shelf, and it's curious contents.
" My lot. What's that supposed to mean, Gover-ness?" Esme was quick to respond, pushing her way between the shelf and the woman who was hellbent on insulting anyone who bore the name Shelby. Her disdain for the head of the family firmly at the forefront of her thoughts every waking hour of the day.
" There's that famous anger. Gypsies. You're all the same" she insulted, pushing past the blossoming bump and picking up a glass bottle neatly labeled "Rodent Poison", its killing substance, cyanide. Her swift concealment of her intended purchase going unnoticed by Esme, whose face had twisted in offense at the Governesses insulting, cruel words.
" So prim, so proper" your sister-in-law scoffed, as she looked at the neatly dressed woman from head to toe. "But I've heard talk. I know exactly what you are, how low you'll stoop. Governess to the upper class. Now running from a string of angry wives you wanted to replace and the affairs you had with their men" Esme smirked as she watched the Governesses quick wit falter, and her expression change to one of anger at her intentions further being exposed. " Your lot. Homewreckers. Filth" Esme spat with contempt as the Governess stood back, tightly holding the bottle against her body.
" Just this, Mr Higgs" the tall women said as she turned away from the braided beauty, placing the deadly bottle of household poison on the counter and paying. " Goodbye Esme" she smirked, before opening the rickety wooden door, the chime of the bell hovering above it announcing her departure and another step closer she was to playing her next lethal hand.
As the household staff hurried from room to room later that day, finishing off the last of their duties before the guests arrived. You kept yourself busy with worry with what the many invitees would have to say about your sudden reappearance at Arrow house as you prepared yourself for the dreaded evening.
" I can't do this...fuck. I can't do this" you mumbled under your breath as you shook your dressing gown off in front of the large standing mirror in your bedroom.
Stood there behind the dressing screen, your hand traced down your stomach over the faded scars that had turned opaque in the many months that had rolled by. A reminder of the home you kept your son safe, warm within the swell of your stomach. But imperfect, scarred.
Why won't they leave? You sobbed rubbing your flesh red, yearning for the body you had once, the one that captivated your husband's adoration. The one he wouldn't go a day without kissing every inch of. Was he no longer in love with you that way? Was that why he hadn't gotten closer to you? Kissed you? Your mind nattered to you as you turned to pull the sequin gown from its hanger, throwing it on the chair beside you when the door opened and your husband quietly walked in.
"Tommy, is that you?" You called out as you slipped your feet into your laced lingerie.
"Guests are arriving Y/N" he replied as he slowly walked towards the large wooden cabinet, pulling out a set of gold cufflinks. His initials intricately engraved into each one.
" Shit, I'm sorry. Can you help me, with the zip?" You asked, before quickly scrambling for the dress you had launched to the side in your flustered state. " No! Wait! Just...just hold on a second" you all but shouted, quickly pulling the dress over your knees before your husband saw your exposed body.
Coming to a sudden stop, Tommy waited behind the floral painted screen of Gardenias and Ferns, unable to stop his wandering eyes and loose footing from being captured by the soft amber lighting bouncing off the curve of your hip partially covered by the screen. Watching it slowly sway from side to side as you pulled the dress over your body.
Never had he felt so much desire, so much longing to hold you as he silently watched you glide the glittering gown up the edges of your body. The little he could see taking his already labored breath away from him within seconds.
"Y/N, darling?" Tommy said clearing his throat as he stepped back, recomposing himself and the collar of his shirt tightening around the pulsing vein in his neck.
"Ok, you can come" you said as Tommy cocked a brow, a small smile of amusement flashing across his face at your choice of words. Unbeknownst to you how true your statement was close to becoming a reality for him.
" I can't reach, can you just..." You said, gesturing behind your back as your smartly suited husband stood behind you, brushing his thumb down the middle of your back until the small zipper resting over the white lace of your underwear.
" You ok?" Tommy asked, swallowing heavy. Unsure if he was asking himself the very same question as he slowly pulled your dress together.
" Nervous" you smiled timidly to him in the mirror as you smoothed down the front of your gown, your face quickly twisting in uncertainty at your choice of dress.
" I won't leave your side" Tommy said turning you around as your hands came up to straighten his limp tie. " Not once " he said tucking the loose whispers of hair behind your jeweled ordained ears, his body slowly closing the small gap between you both.
" Promise?" You replied lifting your gaze to his hooded eyes staring down at you as you inched closer.
"Promise" he answered bending his head down to capture your ruby lips when a knock on a door and the announcement that all the guests had arrived stole the long awaited moment between you both.
And promise he did. Never once during the entirety of the night did Tommy leave your side as he worked the room and the many guests he had to greet, stealing small glances at you every brief moment he could to gaze at your radiating beauty. Whether it be talking to politicians or men of nobility, Tommy's hand protectively hovered next to yours throughout the evening, discreetly brushing over your fingers as he counted the hours to be finally alone with you again. He couldn't have hoped for a smoother night.
But calm is far from what was taking place behind the scenes of the glitzy evening of flowing ball gowns and filled champagne glasses that adorned the lower level of Arrow House. Far from calm.
With a smile painted on her face and a hop in her step. Your trusted housekeeper for the first time in a long time finally felt the early years of your residence in Arrow House joyfully seeping their way back into the heart of the home through the laughter and music that could be heard downstairs as she made her way up to William's nursery. Hoping he was sleeping as soundly as she had left him. But when she reached the door of your son's room, a reminder of the dark presence that still resided over the stately home could be heard whispering vicious words to the innocent ears of its youngest resident.
" I'll be your new mother soon. Your old mummy's not well, William. She left you, remember?" Don't worry she'll be gone soon" the Governesses voice hushed as she loomed over William's cot as he tossed and turned restlessly in his sleep. "Just you, me and your father, it won't be long now" she added as Frances watched on in horror through the crack of the door, her unfathomable words spilling from her thinly lined lips.
" Get out! Leave!" Frances' voice rose as she hurried to check on young William's well-being. " Mr Shelby ordered you to leave. If you had any sense, you'd go before he learns of the disgusting things I just heard you say"
" Oh Frances. The busy worker bee. Always listening, watching..." she giggled with a quick glare as she sauntered to the open door. " It will all end in heartbreak" she said as she turned around to face your trusted housekeeper and her hand firmly grasped onto the frame of the door, blocking any future attempts to reach your child and seethe her vapid words once again.
" When will you understand... Agness?" she questioned, speaking her name for the first time. Unwilling to use the title of Governess she no longer deserved. " You were but a minor distraction for him as he grieved and cried for the love he still held for his wife. He doesn't want you. Now leave" Frances said as the Governesses smirk dropped and her wicked hatred for anyone daring to get in her way spilled over into fury.
All it took was a blinding second, a swift merciless moment for the Governess to grab hold of the door and slam it shut on Frances' hand, crushing her wrist between the door and its frame.
Muffling her screams with all her might to not wake and frighten the young child in her care. Frances desperately tried to free her hand and the excruciating pain soaring through the snapping of her bones.
" Busy bodies always get their comeuppance, dear Frances " she said letting go of the door before her wrist gave way and broke.
Clutching onto her throbbing hand as she quietly wept. Frances slid down in a heap to the floor as she watched the Governess quietly walk away through her teary vision into the darkened corridor to a Charleston playing loudly downstairs.
"Frances! Frances!" The young kitchen aid caught up to her as she walked through the foyer, quickly grabbing a linen napkin and wrapping it around her limp wrist. " You're hurt" young Billy said, taking her hand as Frances stopped a young maid walking by.
" Go sit with William Ethel. All night. Don't leave his side" Frances ordered as the maid hurried with haste up the winding staircase to the nursery.
" What's going on? Is he Ill? I'll... I'll get Mr Shelby, Mrs Shelby" Billy stuttered as he looked at the terror weighing down your housekeeper's frightened face.
" No Billy. Let them be" she reluctantly replied as she turned to see the both of you dancing the last song of the night together, smiling lovingly at each other as small giggles joyously left your lips at Tommy's quick-footed steps. The happiness beaming off your faces tearing her away from interrupting your rekindling marriage. She would tell you in the morning. She promised herself.
" Frances, there's something I think you should know" Billy said, following her into the bustling kitchen as the staff washed their way through the many plates of canapes that had been eaten and glasses of champagne that had been drunk.
" What is it, Billy?"
As the evening slowly died down, and enough time had been spent in the company of people your husband had little, if any regard for other than their checkbooks. He quietly whisked you off to the small living room of your home to a lit fire and two crystal glasses of champagne waiting for you. Hiding you both away from any further small talk or pressing matters with the turn of a key. Alone, at last.
" Wasn't your finest moment, so I've been told" you laughed after recounting the story his brothers had told you about your poor husband's ghostly face and unsteady feet after hearing you scream bloody murder from down in the foyer he'd been pacing for near ten hours whilst you were in the throes of labor with William.
" Sweetheart.." He stopped, leaning forward to you with a smirk on his face. " You sounded like you were giving birth to the antichrist himself" he laughed, earning him a quick smack across the chest. " I've seen it at the pictures, so I know how that shit ends" he said tipping his glass to you with a cocky smile. The top three buttons of his shirt undone, waistcoat and cufflinks gone. For the first time in two years, Tommy looked relaxed. Happy.
" Yes well, good thing I gave you an angel of a son" you corrected him, taking a sip of your third glass of champagne.
" That you did" Tommy smiled to you. With his eyes glossed over with love, he reached his hand across the feathered cushion to softly rub his thumb across your knuckles. " How did I get so lucky, eh?" He sighed heavily, his eyes scanning across your face, engraving the very moment into his memory. Scared, his happiness would be snatched away from him once again.
" Tom..." You blushed, gazing up at him through your full lashes as a small nagging moment of guilt escaped the corners of your mind for having left him and your son.
" C'mere" he said, quickly simmering your worries as he ushered you closer to him with a tilt of his head, placing his empty glass on the table beside him.
With his breath hot against your lips, Tommy cupped your cheeks, closing the mere millimeters between you both and capturing your mouth in a tender longing kiss.
" Tommy..." You mumbled, quickly feeling the passion rise within you as the embrace intensified with the welcome feeling of your husband's tongue gently stroking against your own.
With a surge of confidence and a need to urgently feel your husband's body intertwined with yours, you pulled yourself up onto his lap as Tommy watched your hurried movements. Refraining himself and his own desperation to flip you onto your back, and bury himself in you.
Why was he just watching you? You thought to yourself as you undid each remaining button of his shirt one by one, a sudden wave of insecurity heating your cheeks as Tommy's hands stayed motionless by his side as his intent stare held still.
Were you rushing things, did you misunderstand his intentions ? Then why did he kiss you like that? Your brain ticked over with questions as he watched you timidly slide the straps of your dress down past your full breasts, sending a wave of desire through him as he scrambled to keep his composure, and let you take control of the pace.
Had he been too restrained? Shit. Did you think he didn't want this? He questioned himself as he watched your eyes fill with uncertainty as your hands hovered over the buckle of his belt.
" Don't stop..." Tommy breathed heavily as you apprehensively slid your hand down his trousers only to recoil with doubt that this was even what he wanted. " Darling please, don't stop..." He said swallowing harshly, his heart rapidly pounding in his chest at the long awaited feel of your touch as he torturously kept himself from taking things quicker. " Fuck" your husband moaned as you wrapped your hand around his stiffened cock, slowly pumping it up and down within your palm.
With your dress bunched up around your stomach, you lined his throbbing length up. Briefly lingering it beneath you, when your husband could no longer withstand the wait and his hands flew up to your waist sinking you down on to him with a gasp as he threw his head back in relief.
" Tommy" You moaned his name as he bucked further into you, his grip securely fastened on your waist.
"Sweetheart, look at me..." Your husband panted holding onto your hips as you rocked back of forth, eyes tightly shut, mouth agape in the highs of pleasure. " Y/N, look at me" he pleaded as he watched you finally open eyes, pulling you forward into a searing embrace before flipping you onto your back and ridding himself of the rest of his clothes
" Tom" you breathlessly whined as he thrusted into you, his hands tracing down the warmth of your body as he pulled at the fabric of dress in his way you was reluctant to be rid of.
" Stop hiding from me Y/N " Tommy said, as you pulled your gown back up, covering the scars your self-conscious thoughts resented as Tommy pulled out and knelt between your legs. " It's ok" he nodded reassuringly, gently moving your stubborn hands away and pulling the remainder of your clothes from your body.
"You kept our son safe" Tommy said, brushing his thumb over the small faded streaks as he watched your eyes well with tears. Hearing your worried thoughts without a single word leaving your lips.
" Hey, shhh" he hushed your fears away as he settled his heavy body down between your legs, his lips pecking their way over the slope of your breasts until capturing your mouth in his. " My wife. My beautiful wife" he said reaching his hand down to his pulsing cock, sighing at the feeling of your warmth enveloping him once again as he urgently entered you. " I love you Y/N" Tommy moaned between each labored breath as he rocked his hips into you, instantly ridding you of any doubt of his remaining feelings for you with three simple words. The sweetest of words you realised you had been waiting to hear to finally feel at peace with your past actions.
" I love you too, Tommy" you breathlessly moaned as you held onto your husband's strong frame as he pulled your legs around his back, wrapping them tightly against him to feel as close, as deep as he could possibly be. At one with you. Making love to you.
As morning came and the sun glistened through the netted curtains. Beams of light cascaded over the woven blanket draped over your tired bodies as you laid soundly asleep on the plush setee you had spent the night passionately making up for the many sleepless hours of darkness you had both endured. But darkness remained, looming feet from you. Creeping in unseen, unheard.
" Soon" The Governess whispered through gritted teeth as her fingers clasped tightly around the blade in her hand, her lust for vengeance close to sabotaging her deadly plan enough for her to find her way into the small haven you had made as she watched you from the door wrapped in a lovers embrace. " Soon..."
PART SIX (The Final)
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#tommy shelby#thomas shelby#tommy shelby x reader insert#tommy shelby x reader#tommy shelby x y/n#tommy shelby x fem!reader#tommy shelby fanfic#tommy shelby imagine#tommy shelby fanfiction#tommy shelby series#tommy shelby smut#cillian murphy#peaky blinders#peaky blinders fanfic#peaky blinders fanfiction#peaky blinders series#unchained melody#tommy shelby x you
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The Graveyard Shift: Chapter I
Simon Riley x f!Reader
Author's Note: Credit goes to @gloomwitchwrites and this specific post for inspiring this fic! This idea has lived in my mind rent free for weeks now, so I'm finally just going to do something about it.
Summary: Simon is a lonely grave keeper in Victorian England who puts a marriage proposal ad in the London newspaper. You can guess what happens next...
Warnings: abusive marriages (not Simon), allusions to SA in later chapters (not explicit)
The Graveyard Shift Masterlist
Masterlist of Masterlists
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Y/n mourned her husband until the end of the funeral for proprietyâs sake. Then, she had to start making plans.Â
There were few opportunities for widows, and even fewer for those of illegitimate birth and in possession of inhospitable family members. But though her husband had been of the London variety with soft hands and grotesque manners, she knew the cost of labor. Hard work was a familiar, necessary friend. Perhaps she was lucky her husband had never divorced her from her harsh upbringing â never made her a stranger to toil.Â
 Her husband was a week in the grave when an opportunity finally came her way. She was perched on her stoop, loaf of bread clutched beneath her arm, and scarf flying into her mouth as she fought to keep the newspaper flat enough to read.Â
Simon Riley.
It was a simple, sensible name, printed in plain text and crammed in the bottom right corner of the second page. It was a cheap ad, and because space was so expensive, all the lines were written one after another. Sentences forced to lay side by side like coffins in a pauperâs grave.Â
Simon Riley. 33 years old. Grave keeper by trade. In need of a wife. Never married. 18 shillings/week. Contact Father Hughes. Chilham, Kent.Â
There was an additional line asking for a photo or description of appearance, age, and a handful of other pertinent information, but she skipped over it hastily. It mattered not what she could offer this man, only what he could offer her. Safety. Food. A roof over her head. A chance to escape her pitiful existence in London. She could give him whatever else he wanted. She had no other choice.Â
Sheâd investigated every page of the paper for five days now for a position or a household that might take her. She was bastard-born and though she could read and write well enough, no self-respecting family would hire her as a governess. She could cook and clean and sew and mend and do whatever the factories required of her, but those were skills easily found in women. Desperation â that too was easily found in women. But unlike many other women, she had no husband who might make the task of finding work easier. Her deceased husband had stolen what little else might make her appealing to an established man.Â
But⌠a grave keeper? He might just be lonely enough to take her. And a second marriage could save her.Â
It could be better. She realized with a shock of hope, holding the paper flat against her heart. It has to be better.Â
That evening she carefully cut away the advert with a pair of kitchen scissors, keeping it pressed between two scraps of fabric in the seam of her waist to keep the ink from smudging, and threw the rest of the paper in the fire. She watched as the edges of the print caught, words quickly swallowed up by fire as the paper curled in itself and flickered into dust.Â
Micklethwaiteâs Photography was a bustle of activity on the Saturday afternoon she went. Wheeled out to the south corner of Bunson St, its pitch black curtains stared out at the penny shop across the street like a pair of pupils. Faint camera flashes from within gave the impression that the cart was winking at passerby as they bustled between shoppes carrying groceries and freshly pressed shirts from the tailorâs.Â
Y/n stood fourth in line and anxiously stared at her reflection in the dusty glass display where a small mirror had been set up beside rows of sample tintypes. The eyes that stared back at her were bright and glassy, and it took many moments for her to truly recognize herself. Her husband, being the kind of religious man that he was, had covered the mirrors in the house, declaring that only God should look upon her and see her soul. Now that he was dead and she was free to stare as she pleased, she realized how solemn she looked. How frightened.Â
She smoothed her hair for the fifteenth time and adjusted the frilly collar of her most handsome dress. There were two men in front of her, both dressed in their Sunday best as they combed through their neat beards with their fingers. They discussed business, pointing with some interest at the paper ads covering the brick wall of the butchers a few storefronts over, paper peeling away from the wall.Â
They only regarded her once, tipping their heads in slight, empathetic bows as they noticed her black dressing gown. These were gentlemen, and they would give a widow her due course⌠in public of course. Private matters were private matters. Little did they know she was already planning her second marriage. Or maybe they did know. She imagined their phantom judgement so fiercely it became real, until she was wringing her fingers beneath her shawl. But they moved quickly inside the photographerâs studio, and left shortly after with tintypes in hand.Â
Then it was her turn.Â
She slipped behind the curtain, stifling a cough as dust shimmered in the artificial light. Developing chemicals leant a sharp, acrid smell to the air, burning her sensitive nose. A plain grey curtain lined the back wall, held up by nails hastily hammered into the wood. Cramped along the sides were bins of discarded tintypes and strange liquids swishing in glass bottles as the photographer hurried over from where heâd been bent over a tray of solution.Â
Brown, flash blown eyes and a tobacco-stained smile greeted her, nestled beneath a rather impressive mustache. âWhat brings you in?â He asked, ignoring her obvious mourning clothes as she carefully folded her shawl and removed her hat.Â
The question jarred her, but a lie spilled out her lips with surprising ease. âMy husband recently passed, and it was his wish that a picture of mine be laid with him.âÂ
Richard Hall had made no such request. He was already buried. And if he knew his widow was engaging in as indulgent an activity as having her picture taken he would have asked the good Lord to send him back to earth. That or he would have asked the devil to climb out of hell for an evening.
The photographer only nodded in understanding. Widows and widowers were a dime a dozen as far as he was concerned.Â
He had her sit before the wall, slipped behind the camera, and snapped a photo before Y/n was truly ready.
âWait!â She called out as he busied himself with dunking the photo in one of the many chemical baths laid out beside him. She twitched her nose at the sharp smell. âCan we⌠Can we do that again?â She stammered, âI wasnât ready. And my husbandââÂ
âI charge by the tintype. Iâm afraid it will cost you extra.âÂ
âI can pay.â She responded a touch too quickly.Â
He nodded once more and she took the few precious moments she was afforded to try lifting her eyes and her cheeks a little more. She stretched her neck, overcoming an innate urge to curl up into nothing. She wanted to look gracious. Kind. Lovely. The kind of woman a certain grave keeper might be enamored with.Â
In the end she left the photographer disappointed with the two tintypes hidden in the folds of her skirts. She didnât know what sheâd been expecting. Had she thought the camera would capture some feature she wasnât aware of? Create a beauty out of thin air where there were only sad eyes and a shrunken face? Sheâd entered the booth knowing the years had not been kind to her, but sheâd hopedâŚÂ
She took the remainder of the pin money her son-in-law had given her for the dayâs outing and paid the postage on her letter to Mr. Simon Riley. She tried to keep things brief and straightforward, for the cost of every sheaf of paper ate away at her meager allowance, but she couldnât help the small personal details that ended up in the final letter.Â
Y/n Hall of London, though originally born of Henley-on-Thames, Oxfordshire, where the weather is no better or worse than anywhere else. 25 years of age. Can sew, knit, cook, clean, read, and sing (passably). Would enjoy gardening if given the chance. Of small upbringing. Quiet and of respectable countenance.
Sheâd struggled with the last line for hours. Tossing and turning in bed all night as she wondered at the lie that might become trapped on paper. But in the early hours of the morning, before she took leave of her house with pin money and letter in hand, sheâd padded over to her vanity and written the last line of her letter to Simon Riley.Â
Never married.Â
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#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#simon riley#simon riley ghost x reader#cod ghost#ghost call of duty#arranged marriage#historial au#simon riley cod#cod#the graveyard shift
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In the Moonlight
Author's Note: This is a part of the Dancing With the Devil AU, but can be read as a stand alone. The Vamp!Rhys brain rot has taken over and there aren't enough fics to satisfy me so I wrote more ;)
Pairing: Vamp!Rhys x Reader x Vamp!Azriel
Content Warnings: SMUT, threesomes, oral (f and m receiving) blood, typical vampire stuff
Based on this post/ original fic
-------------------------------------------------------
Youâve always loved music, the steady flow of the strings, the heavy pulse of the drums; itâs always been something that moves and excites you, your body knows how to respond to it as if it's its basest instinct. Music was the siren song that had pulled you and Nesta to the dance floor all those years ago, as children, eager to dance and move and lose yourself in the steps of a blooming waltz that made the other mortal children dizzy. It had been one of your few chances at freedom, and you had chased that opportunity all the way to the Velaris Estate weeks ago, and had now found a new sense of freedom.
Itâs still tied to music, by some humorous twist of fate. Youâd learned early on that the Lord of the Estate had the set list planned: Something graceful and elegant to start, the slow thrum of the string section pushing people onto the dance floor, highlighting easy prey in those lingering on the edge with no partner to claim them. Then something more sensual, as the predators take the floor, snatching their prey with a charming bow and disarming smile. These will span several songs, get their prey comfortable with their presence, before the shift becomes something with more drums and base, music to disappear into the dark corners to.Â
Their ability to move so seamlessly, so flawlessly that no one suspects there might be ill intent in the gesture is still mind boggling. You stand in the shadows of the upstairs veranda, watching Rhysand and his horde move as you sip from a full wine glass, content to study for now. The bargain had never specified when Rhys was supposed to turn you, for now, you attend his parties and do your best to study them, so when the time comes youâll be prepared.Â
There are new faces in the crowd tonight, less and less of your neighbors and childhood friends filling the expensive ballroom now that word had spread that you hadnât returned home, all those weeks ago. As expected, your brother had nearly torn the Spring Estate to shreds when heâd found you gone. Nesta had apparently witnessed you sitting in Rhysâs lap--though by some magic or sheer luck, she hadnât seen him drinking from your neck--and had gone straight to Tamlin to tell him. The betrayal had burned white hot, and not for the first time, were you thankful the ancient vampire hadnât turned you yet, or else the destruction you might have caused in the aftermath would have made Tamlinâs look like a childâs temper tantrum. She hadnât tried to explain herself, every one of your friends had turned their back on you, a couple of them had outright called you a whore to your face before vowing to never speak to you again. None of them were known to be tight lipped either, the whole town was sure to know that youâd âdebased yourself with the Lord of Velarisâ. It would have hurt less if you hadnât spent the last couple of years protecting Nestaâs own secret lovers, but you had to admit, the newfound freedom of living here lessened the sting more and more each day. There were no governesses dictating your every outfit and hairstyle; no stewards limiting the amount of food you got at each meal to ensure you stayed pretty and thin for a would-be husband; no guards to regulate how much time you spent outside and where you could go. If you wanted to wear something, you did; if you wanted to eat you could go into the kitchens now and ask for it and the staff would do so eagerly; if you wanted to go outside and run until you got lost in the mountains, you were free to do so. There were no restrictions with Rhys, the fact alone was enough to keep you here, though the prospect of immortality pulled a little more and more each day. It wasnât even the living forever thing, you really werenât that interested in that part. It was the strength, the power, the freedom to be wild and unrestrained and never have to worry about being hurt or caged again. Once you were a vampire, no one could keep you locked away.Â
You take another sip of wine as the music begins to shift and the lights dim. Feeding time. Rhys dances beneath you with a blonde woman, the neckline of her gown so deep you can see the heavy swell of her breasts from your vantage point. You shove down the pang of jealousy you feel upon seeing those hands on someone elseâs hips with another deep drink from your wine glass.
Mor dances with a female on the edge of the crowd, the darkest part of the dance floor, where the judgmental eyes of the town wonât be so quick to spot her. Cassian hasnât danced all night, has spent the evening prowling around the refreshment table, trying to get drunk despite his accelerated metabolism making it hard. Heâd hoped to make a similar bargain with Nesta all those weeks ago, but youâre pretty sure heâd stepped on her foot and sheâd left scowling in search of you before sheâd found you in Rhysâs lap. Poor Cassian has been moping since.
You havenât seen Azriel all night, but thatâs how he likes it. He could be as charming as Rhys if he wanted, but he likes his solitude too much to risk it. When he steps out of the shadows to your left, as if your thoughts had materialized him, itâs little surprise. Rhys had explained that every vampire had their own unique abilities, among some shared traits, and Azrielâs shadow manipulation made him an excellent hunter.
âYouâre not dancing tonight?â He says as he comes to stand beside you, scared hands resting on the banister railing.Â
You take another sip of wine. âI didnât know I was on the menu tonight.â A lie, Mor had helped you pick a gown with a neckline that plunged all the way down to your midsection with the intent of catching the Vampire Lordâs eye, but you had chickened out at the last minute and hid. Having the freedom to chose and the bravery to walk out in public were two very different things, but you hadnât realized it until too late.
Hazel eyes roam the expanse of your exposed skin, the way your hair is pinned up out of the way so that the full expanse of your throat is available. It doesnât hide the hickeyâs Rhys had left a couple nights ago either, the dark marks smattered across your collarbones and lower, following the path of your gown. âSo everyone knows your mine,â Rhys had purred in your ear and before the ball you had been thrilled to show them off. Until a few wandering eyes had lingered too long, the judgment clear on their faces. Youâd spent the rest of the night hoping everyone would forget youâd existed.
âHeâs looking for you,â Azriel says half-heartedly, eyes still exploring you. Thereâs a hunger there you canât miss; that has you pressing your thighs a little tighter together. Azriel is as devastatingly handsome as Rhys is, and this is not the first time youâve noticed the attention he gives you, but it has never gone anywhere. Especially not when his sire is the one leaving all these marks on your throat.
âHe seemed plenty preoccupied with that blonde,â you reply.
A half-smile creases the vampireâs usually stoic face. âJealous, little one?â
âNo,â you say. âJust observing.â
The grin remains as he holds out a hand in silent invitation and when you take it, you canât help but wonder how those large, scarred hands would feel on your thighs, spreading you openâŚ
The world spins and flips as Azriel shadow steps the two of you down into what they call the Den, the unlit corners of the ballroom where they can feed in near privacy. Thereâs no doors to lock, though there are several glamors in place to keep wandering eyes from getting suspicious.Â
Mor and a newly turned Emerie are already sharing a female on a couch in the corner, and the blonde winks at you as she sinks her fangs deeper into her prey.
On the opposite side of the Den, nursing a glass of whiskey under the light of the full moon peeking through the curtains, is Rhys. He looks like a god in this lighting, violet eyes glowing in the dimness. You canât help but notice that he sits alone, his dance partner nowhere to be seen. While itâs never been discussed that youâre the only human heâs feeding on, a part of you is relieved to see that he hasnât taken anyone else. Itâs a strange sort of satisfaction, knowing thereâs something in your blood that keeps him coming back again and again.
Violet eyes watch your every step forward with the intensity of a jungle cat on the hunt. âThere you are, Darling,â he purrs. âI was looking for you.â
âLiar,â you tease.
He makes himself more comfortable in the large wing-backed chair, legs spread and you canât decide if you want to climb in his lap or get on your knees for him more.Â
âDid you spook your dance partner?âÂ
âNo,â he says as he brings the whiskey back to his lips and takes a slow drink. âShe was dull and she kept stepping on my toes.â
âYou poor baby,â you croon and he grins as he sets the whiskey down on a small side table.
âI would have been spared if you hadnât decided to be a wallflower tonight,â he replies, hand tapping at his thigh for an invitation for you to come sit. âWhatâs bothering you?â
The slit in your skirts makes moving them out of your way easy as you climb into his lap, knees bracketing his hips. Every time you think youâll enjoy it less, but there is no feeling quite like this one, you could sit here forever. âI-â
Rhys presses his lips over a bruise on your neck.
âI was going to come down, but,â the words catch in your throat a bit, your cheeks flushed. âI think I should have worn something else.â
Slender fingers brush over your exposed skin making a shiver run down your spine. âWhy would you do that?â He counters. âYou look breathtaking. Doesnât she, Az?â
Youâve almost forgotten the other vampire was still standing there, still watching in that silent, shadowy way of his. When you throw a glance at him over your shoulder, heâs standing with his hands in his pockets, eyes narrowed into the exposed bit of your thigh from where the dress is split.
âAbsolutely sinful,â he says softly.
Now youâre really blushing. âI-I was hoping youâd like it,â you stammer. âI just⌠I donât like when people are looking at me.â
âI do like it,â he says so lowly that heat begins to build in your core. âSo much so that I had to stop myself from taking you against the railing over and over again.â Teeth scrape lightly over your skin, teasing, not quite tasting you yet.
âAz was thinking about it too,â he hums into your skin. âYou should hear the things he thinks about you.â
âRhys-â Azriel begins, the apology on his lips, but Rhys pulls away from your neck to motion him over.
âWhat do you think, little one, should we give him a little taste?â Youâve never been more aware of your own body than you are with Azriel at your back, and the firm planes of Rhys at your front.
You glance back and forth between them, at the tension that rolls off Azriel, at the hunger that chases your every motion in Rhysâs eyes. In your mind he says, âItâs your choice, Darling.â
âYou-you wonât be mad?â
His laugh is a beautiful thing, even in your mind. âAzriel and I have shared many females. Cassian too. I enjoy it, as long as my partner does too. And I know that youâve thought about him, itâs hard not to, but only if you really want to.â
Youâve been studying all of them: The way they hunt, the way they move, what separates them from humans and other vampires alike. Rhys is refined in his ability to hunt, uses his charm and his wits to bait prey into the Den; he makes feeding an art form, something graceful and dazzling, an allure only someone whoâs done this for a long time can make possible. Cassian is messy, he likes to splatter blood when he feeds, and while heâs calculating and strategic in the initial hunt, he has no qualms getting dirty. Mor thrives in the dark corners of the ballroom, meeting in secret with her lovers because she does not trust people enough to bring a stranger into the Den. And Amren, well youâve only met her once, and sheâd traded some of her books for a mere drop of blood from your wrist before she disappeared again. But Azriel, you havenât really figured out. He always hovers at the edge of the crowd, only speaks or feeds when he needs to, as if denying himself the pleasure the others chase will absolve him of whatever darkness lingers in his past. You know itâs there, have heard it hinted at, but no one will say it out loud. The more you try to learn about them, the more a mystery Azriel remains, and youâd be a liar if you said you werenât curious to see how he feeds compared to Rhys.
âI do.â
And there is no judgment there. Unlike everyone else tonight. The freedom to choose, to want, is enough to make you toss your arms around his neck and lean in to kiss the tip of his nose. Anywhere else he might be regarded as a monster of the night, but here, like this, youâve never felt safer.
Rhys presses a gentle kiss to your lips. âAnd who am I to deny my little pet anything?â
Azrielâs hands settle on your hips, that immortal strength never failing to make you feel fragile and small in their grip. It sends a shiver of delight through you; thereâs no denying how much you love the freedom of handing over your power and knowing they wonât abuse it.
His warm breath fans your neck as he brings his lips to your exposed throat. âBeen thinking about this since you arrived.â
Rhys nips at where your neck meets your collarbone, hands skimming your sides until he finds your breasts, nipples peaked through the thin fabric. âHow would you like to taste her first?â
Teeth scrape over your pulse point, savoring the rapid beating of your heart. âTurn her around.â
They move you together, fingers digging into your hips as you're positioned with your back to Rhysâs chest, legs spread by his knees. Your skirts get caught, bunched up around your hips, baring most of your legs and you give a little squeak of surprise as you try to close them, to spare whatâs left of your dignity, but thereâs no room as Azriel kneels between both yours and Rhysâs legs.
Heat pools in your core, even as your cheeks heat in embarrassment. âSomeone is going to see us!â You squeak, voice more shrill than you would have liked it to be. You want this, you want it more than youâll ever allow yourself to say out loud, but there is a crowd nearby and even with the glamor in place, it is still a far more compromising position than youâve ever been in. At least before, your skirts hid your coupling, but thereâs no hiding like this, as Rhys loops an arm around your waist and sinks his fangs into your neck.
The shadows that leak from Azriel drift off his broad shoulders, shimmering and darkening, as if theyâre absorbing the moonlight seeping through the window. âNot unless you want them to,â he says as those scared hands drag up your soft skin.
Your hips buck despite yourself, body aching to be touched; for more, more, more. The aphrodisiac in Rhysâs venom takes hold quickly, makes your whole body molten. The combination of pain and pleasure makes you close your eyes and lean your head back against Rhysâs shoulder.
âGood girl,â Rhys purrs into your mind so he doesnât have to release his grip on your neck. âJust relax, let us take care of you.â
Azriel must be linked into your conversation, because he says in your mind, âThereâs not much room for creatures like us in temples, but Iâll worship here just the same,â as his own fangs sink into the tender flesh of your inner thigh.
Itâs a far more tender spot than you thought it would be, a whimper of pain escaping you, body rocking back into the hard planes of Rhysâs chest and the growing bulge in his pants to try and escape. Their combined grip on you keeps you from getting far, but that whimper turns into a moan as Rhys drags a hand down between your legs to give you some relief. He chuckles into your mind when he finds youâre not wearing any underthings, but the slit in your skirts had made you nervous that someone would see the lacy underthings that kept appearing in your drawers if you moved too fast.
âFuck,â Azriel moans as he unlatches his fangs from your thigh, fingers playing in the bit of blood that trickles out the puncture wounds. âSheâs so sweet!â
Rhys, never one to make a mess, laps at what escapes from the wounds he made at your throat before saying, âI told you she was.â
Hazel eyes narrow into the teasing strokes the other vampire is making between your legs, watching with rapt attention the way Rhys spreads you open as he licks your blood off his lips. Vampires, youâve noticed, have a strange sort of stillness about them, they can become still as statues, unmoving, never blinking, it was still nerve wracking, especially now that you know that predatory stillness comes right before they pounce, and Azriel has that same look about him, right before he leans in and licks a stripe up your center.
Rhys chuckles in your ear as you moan and try one more time to squirm away from their dual ministrations, body overwhelmed as he curls a finger inside you and Azriel follows with his tongue.Â
Youâre going to reach your high embarrassingly fast at this rate, especially when Rhysâs free hand slides your top to the side so he can roll a nipple between his fingers. You squeeze your eyes shut, one hand reaching behind you to tangle in Rhysâs hair, the other in Azrielâs to try and ground yourself. The intensity of both their venom in your bloodstream has heightened everything beyond what youâd already thought possible, your skin burning, coated in sweat from this alone. Their efforts are somehow too much and not enough and youâve lost the presence of mind to tell which of their names youâre crying out first, it might be both of them.Â
Azriel feasts on you like a male starved, and the shadows not making a shield around the three of you writhe eagerly over your thighs, dusting your heated skin with cool touches that make you buck your hips as best you can against their masterâs grip. Rhys adds a second finger, using your gathering wetness and Azrielâs spit to spread you open further, giving the other male more access to you, his nose brushing your clit, chin absolutely soaked in the mess youâre making. The move has you panting, stars blurring across your vision as an orgasm tears through you.
âFuck,â you whimper, body shaking from your high.
Rhys peppers kisses along your neck and shoulders as Azriel pulls back, licking your release off his lips. âNo wonder youâve been hiding this one from the rest of us,â he says huskily. âI could spend all night like this.â
âYouâd like that, wouldnât you, little one?â Rhys purrs in your ear, breath tickling your still flushed skin. Their venom hasnât worn off yet, body still not satiated, still begging to be touched and claimed. Thereâs not a chance you can close your legs, the evidence of your still budding arousal leaking onto his pants.
âPlease,â you whimper.
âWhich one of us do you want first, hm?â
How are you supposed to choose? There are too many things you want and itâs all getting muddled in your head. âBoth.â
Itâs Azrielâs deep rumble of a laugh that skitters across your skin as he says, âYou canât take both of us in this body, little one.â Scarred hands skim your exposed thighs, fingers kneading into the bite marks that are quickly turning into a bruise. âHumans are so fragile.â
And damn do you certainly feel it like this, tucked between the two of them. They could so easily break you, so easily overpower you. Itâs thrilling and terrifying all at once.Â
âWantâŚâ your cheeks heat, a blush crawling its way up your neck and Rhys runs his tongue over it with a chuckle.
âTell us what you want, Darling.â
You shiver, despite the flush of your damp skin. âWant to taste you then.â
You watch with rapt attention as those hazel eyes widen, the golden ring thinning until there is nothing but pupil as he processes what youâre saying. Still, you grind yourself down on Rhysâs bulge as you reach for the laces on Azrielâs pants, hoping he gets the hint as well.
âGreedy little thing,â Azriel tuts, but he steps closer anyway, letting you figure out how to get the laces untied in the moonlight. âI donât think youâve properly trained your pet, Rhys.â
Rhysâs fingers dip into the tender flesh of your hips mercilessly as he grinds you back against his erection, a rumble of a moan echoing through his chest. âDonât want this one trained,â he purrs. âThey taste better when theyâre wild.â
You manage to get the laces undone, hands shaking a bit when you realize what youâve just gotten yourself into. Rhys is a lot on his own, Azriel is⌠bigger than you expected. A lot bigger, his cock heavy and erect against his stomach.Â
They must be having their own mental conversation, when you pause to consider how to even go about this, Azriel suddenly reaches out to grab you by the hair, pulling you forward as Rhys moves your skirts out of the way. Their movements are in perfect sync and you donât know whether you should hiss from the sting of those large hands in your hair or moan as Rhys rubs the tip of his cock against your center. The sound that comes out of you is a little bit of both in the end.
âAre you sure about this?â Rhys inquires as if there could possibly be any thought in your head other than how much you need the both of them right now. Do they not share the same ache you feel? How are they not consumed by this thing that begs beneath your skin to be touched and soothed and filled?
You lean forward just enough to lick Azrielâs tip, catching a bead of pre-cum on your tongue as the maleâs fingers tighten in your hair, a hiss escaping him. âVery sure.â
âTap my thigh twice if it gets to be too much,â Rhys orders.
You nod your understanding as he slides slowly into you, letting you get adjusted to the feel of him from this angle. Heâs deliberately slow, gliding in inch by inch, making your eyes roll back into your head, all your focus on the feel of him instead of tending to Az.Â
âI see she gets her greediness from you,â Azriel teases.
You have to brace yourself against Azrielâs hips as Rhys rocks your forward, chuckling. âJust because I said Iâd share, doesnât mean Iâm not going to have my fill.â
Stars dance across your vision as he hits an angle inside you he hasnât reached before, mouth falling open as pleasure licks its way up your spine.Â
Azriel grips your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to look at him when all you want to do is squeeze your eyes shut under the pleasure. âAre you gonna put that pretty little mouth to use?â
You run your tongue over your lips, whimpering as Rhys settles fully inside you, âMmhhmm,â is all you can manage to get out before heâs guiding you down to his leaking cock.Â
âBeen thinking about this for a long time,â Az whispers. âAlways wearing that pretty shade of lipstick that would look so good smeared across my cock.â
You swirl your tongue over his tip again and his hips jerk involuntarily. Itâs a greedy sort of satisfaction you get in knowing that you can reduce a thousand year old vampire to this with just your tongue, and you want to see how much farther you can push him. Keeping a hand on his hips for balance, you use the other touch him, tracing a line down the underside of his shaft that has him hissing as the muscles in his abdomen tighten.
Rhys takes as much time sliding out of you as he had sliding in, setting a leisurely pace you know is to help you get comfortable with this setting. As tight as his own muscles are, you know heâs holding back, and youâre grateful for it, as you start to take Azriel in your mouth. Itâs going to take time to get used to, you have to focus all your effort into breathing out your nose and slackening your jaw. Thereâs no way youâre going to be able to fit all of him.
âJust like that,â Az moans, using the hand in your hair to guide you down further.
âLook so pretty like this,â Rhys encourages as he trails soft kisses over your spine. Heâs far more gentle with you than a vampire ought to be, and you canât help but think he might be getting attached to you; a notion that would have sounded absurd weeks ago, but makes your heart stutter a little now.
âFeels so good,â you tell him mind to mind.
He slides back into you with a groan, just a little more forcefully than before, making your head bob down Azrielâs cock until he hits the back of your throat. Az moans louder than someone who is usually so stoic ought to and you have to release him for a second to catch your breath.
He gives you mere seconds before heâs hurriedly pulling you back, groaning like he canât bear to not have your mouth around him anymore. Rhys sets his pace to match, giving you a rhythm to follow as you get a hand around the parts of Az you canât get your mouth around.Â
This is a pleasure you didnât know you needed; the way they both moan and pant over you has you rocking your hips back into Rhys, your hand pumping a little harder around Az. As much as you want them to ruin you, you want to do the same to them.
Rhysâs fangs scrape over your shoulder, fingers tightening into your hips in a move you know will leave bruises. Heâs getting closer to the edge, all his praises whispered in pants against your skin.
Az throws his head back as he hits the back of your throat once, twice, then a third time, the muscles in his abdomen tightening with every thrust.Â
Theyâre both so close, you not far behind, especially when Rhys slips his hand between your legs again.
âFuck,â Az whispers. With his head thrown back like that, eyes pinched shut, muscled body bathed in the moonlight, he looks every bit a god. And if his tongue between your legs counts as worship, then so should this as you take him as deep as you can without gagging, face a mess of spit and pre-cum.
âGonna cum,â he warns.
Rhysâs thrusts are getting harder, the chair groaning beneath him as he fucks up into you. This is usually where he likes another taste of you, youâre used to the routine of it, ready for him to sink his fangs into your shoulder, though the force of it this time is different, as if heâs losing control, the bite sloppy, teeth scraping against your skin before they push in.
Your whole body tenses at the sensation of a thousand year old vampire losing a bit of his usual control, pleasure building white hot in your core. You want to see him a complete mess one of these days.Â
Itâs your moan around his cock that pushes Azriel quickly over the edge, warm cum spurting in your mouth before he can pull away from you. Azriel, quite, broody Azriel groans and pants as he cums, the sound like music to your ears as you drink him down. His hand still hasnât left your hair, now scrapping gently against your scalp as you release him with a pop that turns into a squeal as Rhys bites down on your shoulder a second time.
One more thrust, then a second before your own release barrels through you, white hot in the buzz of sensations swirling around your head. Your own release chases Rhys into his and he jerks forward with a cry as he spills inside you.
You fall back against his chest as you come down from your high, body trembling, breath escaping in pants.Â
Azriel reaches out and wipes a bit of the mess he made on your chin with his thumb, muttering, âBeautiful.â
Still catching his breath, Rhys presses a sloppy kiss to your cheek, and judging by the wetness on his lips you think there might still be some blood on them, but youâre too blissed out to care.
âDid so well,â he praises in your ear, voice still low and husky.
You raise a hand to card your fingers through his hair, eyes drifting shut, beyond satiated. If someone had told you this would have happened because youâd decided to sneak into a party and dance with a stranger, you wouldnât have believed them in the slightest, but now, it doesnât matter how long it takes for him to fulfill his end of the bargain. There are new freedoms to be found still, new pleasures to experience. You know things will be different once he turns you, and youâre not ready to feel so different yet. Right now, you like this thing between you. Itâs good. Freeing.
âIâm glad I met you,â you admit softly.
âHow very human of you to say,â Azriel teases as he fixes his pants. Despite his words, once heâs done, he still leans down to kiss your forehead.
âYou like that Iâm human,â you counter.
Rhys manages to get you repositioned so he can stand and carry you upstairs to his room, where you know a warm bath will be waiting for the two of you. âThat we do, little one,â he purrs. âThereâs still so much more to explore before you turn.â
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