#Michael Gover

[abs0luteb4stard]

W A T C H I N G

[the-elusive-bones]

Fun Fact abt this AU:

Michael didn’t immediately wake up after Ennard ejected themselves from him! He woke up about to have an autopsy 🤯, needless to say the operator was terrified.

Anyways Michael is technically wanted by the government now!

(aka why so many aliases on top of not wanting to be associated with his father :3)

[the-bear-neccesities]

Trevor phillips is hannibal lector with a different kind of childhood trauma.

[gamer2002]

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Marpessa Dawn (Black Orpheus)—She's like. fairy tale princess etheral pretty. truly eurydice realness. AND she's a singer AND she's a dancer. she used to be a governess/nightclub dancer, which isn't hot per say i just thought it was an interesting job combination. If you want to hear her sing just look up the Black Orpheus soundtrack

Irene Papas (Tribute to a Bad Man, Electra, Zorba the Greek)—"From the opening shot of Michael Cacoyannis's Electra, as the proud, implacable face emerges from encroaching shadows, it becomes impossible to imagine anyone else as Euripides's heroine. Erect, immutably dignified, dark eyes burning fiercely beneath heavy black brows, Irene Papas visibly embodies the sublimity of classical Greece, tragic yet serene." -Philip Kemp (film critic) Also she's a a badass.

This is round 4 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Marpessa Dawn:

Marpessa Dawn was an filipina/african american who became well known as an actress, singer and dancer in France. She is most famous for her role in 'Black Orpheus' in which she played Eurydice. It's difficult to find a picture where she and her husband, the actor Eric Vander, aren't kissing or hugging or laughing together, they are incredibly cute (and hot).

basically everyone and their mother will agree that marpessa dawn was one of THEE og vintage black women working in cinema (even if it was mostly in french cinema! the cross language barrier slay). mostly did her work in french cinema, and her smile in black orpheus is literally like the sun breaking over the sea

Irene Papas:

An amazing actress and singer, some may say a literal Greek goddess. Fought against military dictatorship in her home country and had an affair with Marlon Brando.

She literally played Helen, the most beautiful woman in the world in Greek mythology, what more could you want

[suckerforlovesblog]

Pretty little thing

Pretty little thing Masterlist

Series summary: All Mr. Shelby wanted was to remarry. He had to find himself another wife after the death of Grace, not just to take care of his son Charlie but also to grant him access to the finer society of Birmingham. All he wanted the girl to be was a pretty little thing on his arm who simply submitted, obeyed and followed his orders.

And he did find the perfect girl - young, very good looking, of a good upbringing, smart but little did he expect her to have such a strong mind of her own…

All he wanted to do was break her in, like a horse had to be, and his new wife put up a good fight but eventually he is sure, he will break her and make her his completely.

Series warning: Dark!Tommy, toxic relationship, abuse, rape, non consensual intercourse, rough sex, age gap, Sir kink, choking - all the things that come with rough smut

Chapter 1: The perfect girl

Summary: Thomas Shelby is out searching for a wife. Most young women in Birmingham throw themselves at him but he doesn’t like that and goes out further to search for the perfect girl to be on his arm whilst hanging on his lips.

Chapter Warning: age gap, swearing, mentions of sex

Word count: 1.5k

~ tag list: @ncoleys , @amberpanda99 , @priyajoyy @tommyshelbywhore @swordofawriter @goth-cowgirl-03 @thenattitude @sheun-555 @meetmeatyourworst @bruher @frazie99 @blvebanisters @jessimay89 ~

I‘m very intrigued to hear your thoughts!

Also: please let me know what you would like to read! My requests are OPEN!

End of 1925:

Thomas Shelby was still grieving the death of his beloved wife Grace, even after an entire year, and everyone around him knew. He did blame himself for her death because he gave her the bewitched jewel to wear and even put it onto her himself. And she wore it that night, like a target painted on her forehead. But business had to keep going and Charlie desperately needed a mother figure in his life. Frances, the maid, was doing her best and Ada and Polly came to help out from time the time but it just wasn’t the same. He had even hired a governess, a very pretty thing, blonde and petite and at least fifteen years younger then him, to attend to his son’s needs because he couldn’t always be there for him. Thomas who was now nearing forty, also really enjoyed the governess presence, at least when he bend her over a table, fucked her from behind and she didn’t talk. Other than that he avoided her most of the time and let her do her work.

She fulfilled his needs but it didn’t help him with business.

So, Thomas Shelby called a family meeting at Arrow House and now everyone was sitting in front of him in the drawing room: Arthur and Linda, John and Esme, Polly and Michael, Ada, Finn, Charlie, Curly, Jeremia and his son, and Lizzie, of course. Sometimes he still slept with her but she would never be good enough to be his wife. He did like her but Lizzie’s social standing was beneath his new position as a business man.

“Thank you everyone for coming, eh!”, Tommy’s voice boomed: “I have an important announcement to make and I think I need everyone’s help.” All the people in the small room looked at him. He cleared his throat, took a deep breath and then said: “I decided that it’s time for me to remarry. It will be good for business.” Lizzie looked at him with wide sad eyes, knowing he would never share the feelings she had for him. Arthur stood up, smiling and went up to give Thomas a small hug, “Proud of you, Tom. Linda will help for sure.” Everyone else looked reassuring and Curly started babbling something no one was able to make out. “May I ask what kind of business you think of concluding?”, Polly said. “Yes but I will not tell just yet ‘eh.”, Tommy says, wetting his lip, “I just think a wife will open up new branches for us and make the company more respectable.” He then puts a cigarette between his lips, after fishing it out of the gold case from the pocket of his coat: “Anyways today is a day to celebrate and I invite you all to dinner. Now, Michael, John and Arthur stay, everyone else I see at dinner.” Thomas lights his cigarette whilst everyone leaves the room except for his brothers and Michael. He sits back down and explains the guys what he’s looking for in his future wife, mostly talking to Michael because the girl should be around his age, a very desirable age in his opinion. The four men make a plan to start the search for his wife tomorrow, starting with all the respectable families in Birmingham and then toast to their success with Irish whiskey, of course.

Early spring of 1926:

Thomas and Michael looked at all the young women in Birmingham, from a respectable upbringing at least. John joked that the two of them fucked their way through Birmingham and that was true to some extent. None of the girls satisfied Thomas’ needs however and Michael was growing tired. “If you keep going like that Tom, we will never find a girl for you. One is not tall enough, the next one doesn’t have enough tits, another one is too stupid, then she is pretty but not gorgeous. This is exhausting.”, Michael says looking at him from the drivers seat of the new Bentley Thomas got. The car was extremely luxurious and expensive.

“Well Michael, we gotta find the perfect girl for me, eh.”, he answered, taking a puff of his cigarette, “She needs to be smart and eloquent for me to be able to bring her around business partners. But she ought to be gorgeous as well because then negotiations will be even easier because men are dumbstruck if they’re accompanied by beautiful women.” Michael also lights a cigarette: “I get that Tom but if we keep going at that speed my dick won’t work anymore with the girl I may marry in the future because I emptied everything I have into some girls” They both laughed and kept driving to meet Alfie Solomons in Camden Town for business.

After driving past the first couple of buildings, he barks at Michael to stop the car and Thomas basically jumps out. He brushes his coat down, fishes a cigarette out of its case and puts it into it mouth leaving Michael more than puzzled. Thomas started walking towards a building, lighting the cigarette with a match and then enters a shop, a tailoring shop it appears. Michael still sits in the car, smoking a cigarette as well and waiting for him to come back.

Thomas looks around the shop, searching for the woman he just saw. He only saw her side profile but Tommy knew she was the one, now on his way to make her his, willing to do whatever it might take and hoping she wasn’t already married. Fuck, even if she was, he were to make her his for sure.

He was so occupied with his thoughts that he didn’t even hear the little bell ring as he entered through the door and then the people inside the shop turning to him. The pretty woman he searched for was sitting behind a desk to his right and he made his way towards her but was stopped abruptly in his step by the owner of the shop. “Sir”, the small man called out, “how may I help you?” “Aye, I need a new suit please and may I have a word with the young lady at the desk?”, Thomas answers. “For sure”, the man says in a low purr, scarred of the dominance in his voice, “we will leave you to it, Sir.” Tommy nods and the man leaves the shop through the back door, pulling a women behind him.

Thomas approaches the woman. She was already looking at him through her Y/E/C eyes, smiling lightly. “Hello miss, my name is Thomas Shelby, owner of the Shelby Company Limited. I saw you out in the street and you caught my eye”, he said and smiled an earnest smile. “My name is Y/N, my farther is the owner of the shop.”, the girl answered. He looked at her thoroughly and she got even more prettier the longer he looked at her. Although Thomas didn’t feel any affection towards her but she was very pretty for sure and he knew that she would be the perfect wife: young, a pretty face and fine features, nice hair, a slim figure. Her voice was very calm and had a pretty sound to it. He knew she would be the perfect little thing on his arm. He looks at her with his icy blue eyes, “Tell me sweetheart, how old are you?” “I just turned 18, Sir”, she said. The obedience and innocence in her voice made him hard, without help anyways, for the first time since Grace died. His heart ached for his lost love but he needed this to work and pushed the face of his dead wife out of his thoughts. “You’re not married, eh?”, he asked the girl more nearly twenty years younger then him. She shook his head, seemingly submitting him to, scarred of his booming figure. He really liked that and smiled: “Please get your farther to me, I need to speak with him. In private. And take the measurements for the suit I ordered, will you sweetheart?” She got up, nodding and getting her farther at first, afterwards measuring him and writing all the details down for his order. She was sent out shortly after, leaving her farther with the unknown man with the pretty blue eyes.

“Tell me Sir, is everything to your liking so far”, the old man asked Thomas. “Yes, indeed”, he answered with his thick Birmingham accent, “I would like to marry your daughter. I know this sounds rushed but she immediately caught my eye and I can provide for her very well.” The older man, the girls farther, looked at him reserved and averse. Thomas looked at him with his blue piercing eyes, radiating pride and dominance and the older man submitted. “Listen, eh, I give you a great deal for her and promise to provide and care for the girl.”, Thomas says, putting another cigarette between his lips, letting it dangle for a little while before lightning it with a match.

He pursued the conversation for a little while longer, settling everything important, like the wedding date and the money the family will receive. After it was all settled Thomas went outside of the shop, calling Michael to set up and then seal the document.

The girl came back into the shop, Thomas walked over to her and put his hand on her waist. She looked up at him confused but he just smiled at Michael: “Meet my darling fiancé, Y/N. We will be married in two weeks time and she will be Mrs. Shelby.”

[melis-writes]

The Other Woman [Michael Corleone x Reader Multichapter, 18+ Smut] Chapter 5 – A Part of The Family.

Read on AO3 / Read Chapter 4 / Chapter Masterlist / Fanfic Playlist.

18+, explicit smut read.

"Michael cares about you, don't forget that." / "Forget Kay. This has nothing to do with her."

With the Las Vegas gala approaching, you can neither get your mind off of spending the formal evening with the Corleone's nor do you hear the end of it at the Lake Tahoe compound. Growing closer with both Anthony and Mary who've begun to open up to you and enjoy your teaching, your career as the Corleone household's governess thrives and is noticed by Michael and Kay for different reasons altogether. Kay has slowly begun to doubt her parenting skills from observing you whereas Michael is no longer waiting for you to give in but making his first move. In the meanwhile, what you've learned about the Corleone family only further convinces you Michael may be living in Vito Corleone's legacy, but is nothing like the bloodthirsty mafiosi that killed your brothers. Patience between the sexual frustration mounting between you two will take you both to Las Vegas, but Michael intention isn't to be the center of attention at a gala his family his hosting–it's to make you his.

[WARNINGS]: Sexual themes & mentions.

[AUTHOR'S NOTE]: Another chapter is finally here and an important one marking the end of this "slow burn" between Michael and Marina. 🤭💓 Michael won't stop to get at what he wants and he's no longer waiting for Marina to give in because he knows she can't in front of everyone and peering eyes, of course. 😳 Next chapter and onwards will be scandalous and promiscuous Michael's waited until the Las Vegas gala and he's going to make his first move, if it wasn't obvious in this chapter! 😈

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 employer—Michael 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 mistress—only having an exclusive sexual relationship with you while his sex life with Kay dies out. Knowing from the beginning you’ll never truly be with Michael and that your place in his life is worlds apart from Kay’s as the other woman, the love you have for him consumes you until it threatens to burn out everything you’ve ever had with Michael.

“I know you’re not used to these sorts of things,” Michael’s tone of voice is low and soothing, his words velvety as he speaks them so close to the side of your neck that you can feel his soft breath on you.

Your heart thunders in your chest from arousal and excitement coursing through you as you linger by the doorway of Michael’s office; refusing to step out and away from this man for as long as you possibly can.

“You will be,” Michael continues, taking a step closer to you and standing directly behind you, “as you get to understand my family name and the hospitality the Corleones offer.”

“Yes, sir,” you breathe back, barely audibly as the scent of Michael’s cologne hits you again.

Michael gazes at your back before letting his eyes wander admiringly over your figure, the curve of your hips and the shape of your thighs clinging against your pencil skirt. “Stay by me throughout the evening and you’ll be fine—if it comes to that.”

You give a small nod, slowly turning around to face Michael as you speak to him. “As long as I’m not disturbing your evening.”

You cannot push away the idea of possibly being a burden to the Corleones on such a special evening and social gathering, seeming as if you constantly need to be watched lest you somehow act out of line or do something wrong in front of hundreds of wealthy investors and businessmen.

“Nonsense,” Michael affirms, looking you in the eyes. “You’re not a burden, you’re my governess. You’re my guest.”

You surprise yourself with how you’re able to step out of Michael’s office without stumbling over your own two feet after having that conversation come to an end.

The tips of your ears and your cheeks sting, burning with blush as all you can think is how Michael’s planning to have this evening be tailored to you and your comfort up to the point where he’s picked out your gown for the evening.

As you make your way out of the Corleone estate and back to your living quarters, you remind yourself that even if you think Kay knows Michael’s done such a thing, you’ll keep everything and anything that happens between you and Michael all to yourself.

‘Everything should be fine.’

 You don’t think Kay would mind too much but then again as you think it over, the idea of having your husband pick out an evening dress for another woman stirs a bit of jealousy inside of you that you don’t think Kay is immune to herself.

Maybe Kay would look too deep into it; perhaps Kay knows her husband isn’t the type of man to just “pick” out a dress for someone and since Kay knows Michael like the back of her hand and you don’t, the possibilities are endless.

Kay’s mind may first go to Michael being generous and picking out a dress for you simply because you forgot to choose, or he chose a random one simply for the sake of saving time for the order, but if it comes to overthinking Michael’s picked out an evening dress for you because he thought about what color adorns your skin and body perfectly and what he’d like to see you in… It would mean trouble.

There’s nothing going on between you and Michael that you’re entirely aware of for the time being, but even having the slightest bit of a crush on a man like Michael Corleone must absolutely not be given away or told to anyone.

If you let your fantasies and the beat of your heart delude you into assuming something more with Michael, you may find yourself outed to people for trying to flirt and be with a married man who seems all too unattainable to you even if he was a bachelor.

Nobody can know how you feel about Michael; not now, and not ever. You know your heart would be better off if he doesn’t catch onto how you feel either.

~

All throughout the week, the only thing mentioned back and forth again with excitement and anticipation is the upcoming gala in Las Vegas this Saturday.

Whether you hear it giddily from Kay or Connie whose been carefully curating the perfect outfit for the evening makes no difference; there’s a thrill sparking inside you when you think of attending your first black tie event with the Corleone family that more often than not blends in with the amount of nervousness you feel about it too.

“That’s what I’m saying!” You overhear Kay excitedly exclaiming to Sandra over in the kitchen. “The family has come so far. I’m honestly so proud of Michael, he does so much for us. All that’s mentioned in Reno and Las Vegas in the business is our family name, you know that? It’s incredible how we’ll we’ve done.”

Something tells you however that Michael hasn’t and most likely won’t be giving Kay all of the details about his or the family’s business but if it’s one thing you’ve learned, it’s just how powerful and influential the Corleone family truly is.

‘Michael Corleone is a hell of a businessman and a good one at that…’

The topic of the Las Vegas gala is all the more unavoidable the closer you are to Kay which is consistent throughout the day as you teach the children, quietly mark homework, and take a break while going through some paperwork.

Sandra, Connie, and Theresa both share the excitement and anticipation for the gala, but none come near the unmatched enthusiasm of Kay.

Of course, Kay’s experience is just as incomparable as her excitement for the gala as being Mrs. Corleone has its benefits and luxuries others won’t share or come close to having

Michael and Kay Corleone together are the hosts of the gala and all eyes and ears will be on them throughout the night above all.

“Hopefully we’ll manage to enjoy a good dinner together,” you hear Kay sigh, “I just know the minute Michael arrives, all of his business partners will do anything to get a word in with him first. They won’t want to leave him alone.”

You find yourself blushing at the mention of Michael’s name, no longer catching yourself or mentally scolding yourself for it.

You wish you can be the one holding Michael’s attention consistently throughout the evening as if it was up to you, you would want him all to yourself for the remainder of the event regardless of whose desperate to talk business matters with Michael.

As Kay’s conversation with Sandra fades off onto another subject, you brush the topic out of your mind and continue focusing on your lesson planning for the day.

You ensure you’ve double-checked your planner so there’s enough time in tomorrow’s lesson for enough repetition and homework check, but also sufficient time to introduce a new unit without all of it being overbearing in one lesson.

‘A final little test for Twinkle Twinkle Little Star for piano should wrap up this unit before we learn another piece…’ Distracted, you haven’t realized that the estate has gone completely quiet except for a faint giggle coming from Kay.

Blinking, you sit up straight on the couch in the living room—expecting Kay or Sandra to walk in only to see Michael enter a split second later.

Your face flushes a shade of scarlet instantly from the blush stinging your cheeks, watching as Michael himself remains distracted by adjusting his gold watch over his wrist.

‘God…’ Your muscles tense up from arousal as you eye Michael eagerly, letting a swarm of butterflies rush over you at the sight of him.

Michael’s dressed in a wine-red dress shirt with the first three buttons undone, no tie, black dress trousers, matching leather belt, and white socks.

If you’d missed the sight of him for a few seconds longer, you’d have already picked up on his heavenly sandalwood and musk cologne filling the living room only adding to your sexual tension when you see a peek of Michael’s chest hair from his dress shirt.

Michael’s hair appears slightly damp as if he’s showered recently but a light layer of gel shines through his black locks, neatly slicked back and parted from the middle.

It’s obvious Michael has no intention to be dressed for business and professionalism right here and now, but his appearance is still sharp, and cleans up very well.

Just as Michael finishes clasping his watch over his wrist, he makes direct eye contact with you.

Your heart races in your chest as you give him a shy smile back; hoping to yourself out of embarrassment Michael didn’t notice you gawking at him the entire time before he looked over at you.

Only the thought of what it would be like to be held in Michael’s arms, nuzzle his neck to pick up that scent of cologne so close to you before beginning to kiss his warm skin and lead down to his collarbones takes precedence over your mind.

You can’t stop yourself from fantasizing about the man right in front of you, thinking, ‘God, what I would do to…’ You picture yourself unbuttoning down the rest of Michael’s shirt to kiss and lick up his chest; gladly getting down on your knees right away to undo his belt.

Only a brief moment passes as Michael begins to button up his dress shirt at the sight of you for the sake of being professional and not coming off as sloppy although Michael himself would prefer to show you more as well.

Michael gives you an acknowledging nod back to your smile before he exits from the living room, but the scent of his cologne remains as if his presence is still in here and so does the lingering feeling in your heart.

You can practically feel your heart aching and the sensation growing heavier and heavier upon each confrontation and conversation; you can no longer stop yourself from feverishly desiring this man nor do you want to.

‘Stop, Marina. Just stop… You’re doing this to yourself.’

You squeeze your eyes shut, desperately trying to block out any thought and mention of Michael Corleone from your head for just one minute.

‘I don’t know how much more of this I can take. I did this to myself.’

~

[ 1 Day Before The Las Vegas Gala ]

Having wrapped up your last lesson before the Las Vegas gala, you spent the last bit of your day doing homework review with all your students to start with a new learning unit next week for everyone.

In the morning, you reviewed math and history worksheets with the Hagens and Sandra’s children, then had a private review session with Anthony as requested by his parents before now doing the same with Mary to end your day.

In the Corleone estate’s study room, you and Mary sit side by side at the center study desk, overviewing a math worksheet from earlier this week.

With the evening air setting in and light rain out, you can see the glisten of the compound’s security lights slowly rotating around the estates outside and enjoy the soft sounds of rain surrounding the estate.

“Anthony says it’s easy,” Mary pouts at the worksheet in front of her, looking at the multiplication homework.

“Maybe it’s easy for him, but not for everyone and that’s okay,” you give Mary a reassuring smile. “We all learn differently, don’t we?”

 “Hmm…” Mary peeks up at you, feeling somewhat relieved. “All the homework is easy for you, right Miss Marina?”

“You think it is?” A playful grin forms over your lips.

“Maybe,” Mary giggles, shrugging her shoulders. “Because you teach math really well.”

Unbeknownst to both of you, Kay made her way down the hallway and towards the study room just a few moments prior to pop her head in and take a peek as to how the homework review is going, only to remain in front of the ajar study door and out of sight instead.

Kay thinks to herself that she’ll enter the study room at the perfect moment and chime in on the topic of homework to see Mary’s progress face to face but without interrupting your review and explanations to Mary.

“Why thank you,” you give Mary a beaming smile, “I try my best, but believe it or not, I wasn’t very good at math when I was growing up.”

“Really?” Mary’s eyes widen in disbelief, “no way! How?”

Kay smiles, gazing at her daughter between the crack of the door as she continues listening in on the conversation, clasping her hands together in front of her.

“See,” you chuckle, “when it comes to a subject like math, once you know what you’re doing step by step, all the answers start to come to you and they begin to make sense. That’s why when we do multiplication homework like this,” you hold up the worksheet in your hands, “we like to see and write down all of the steps we took to get the answers for these numbers, right?”

“Right,” Mary nods, looking back at the worksheet.

“So it’s all about understanding and learning the steps first. Then you got it,” you set the worksheet back down on the desk, “and you already did so well on this, Mary. I’m proud of you. Even for the questions you got wrong here,” you gesture to the paper, “you tried, you put in the work and all your steps. That’s why we go through them now, right? So we can see where we made our mistakes and how we can correct them.”

“Yeah,” Mary giggles to herself. “It… It was fun!”

“Oh yeah?” Your eyes light up, “it was, wasn’t it? Maybe not so much the whole homework part, but—” both of you burst out laughing in unison. “But the learning was probably the most fun!”

“Learning with you, Miss Marina,” Mary adds, nodding happily.

Kay feels nothing but joy in her heart to see that sparkle in Mary’s eyes speaking for her enthusiasm and how she’s genuinely improving in her math lessons with you then and there.

“I’m very happy to hear that,” you can’t help the growing smile on your lips. “Actually, maybe you’re the first student to say that homework might be a little fun too!”

It’s when Mary exclaims, “Miss Marina is the best!” and gleefully leans in to give you a hug that the proud and joyful smile on Kay’s face begins to fade.

Kay moves her hand away from the study door, watching as you hug Mary back and say, “and you’re the best student!”

It’s not that Kay’s unable to show her own daughter affection or receive any in return—of course, Mary hugs her mother—but it’s the snuggling and the bubbly attitude of Mary’s she consistently keeps up with you and is more than comfortable in your presence is something Kay has had difficulty keeping up with her own children.

Feeling a sharp pain tugging at her and hating herself for letting a wholesome moment between student and governess hit this close to her own struggles, Kay bites down on the corner of her lip before turning back on her heel and walking away.

Mary and you haven’t noticed a thing, and it’ll only be another five minutes until the homework review is officially wrapped up and Mary skips off back to her room to get ready for bed.

As you begin to organize and tidy up the rest of your paperwork remaining on the desk, you hear a soft knock at the door and recognize that rhythm of knocking can only come from one person—Tom Hagen.

“Evening, Marina,” you hear Tom’s voice just a moment after. “May I come in?”

“Of course,” you look back towards the door, greeting Tom with a smile as he walks into the study and quietly shuts the door behind him.

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Tom says sheepishly, noticing the pile of paperwork over your desk.

“Definitely not,” you let out a soft laugh, pushing the paperwork in front of you toward the corner of the desk.

“Finishing up for the night?” Tom chuckles.

“Something like that,” you turn in your chair to face Tom.

“How do you feel about tomorrow afternoon?” Tom asks, shifting the conversation over to the Las Vegas gala as you expected him to.

Both of you exchange an understanding glance, knowing the conversation would come to this.

“Well…” You open your mouth to answer before pausing and remaining quiet for a moment as you ponder what to say back to Tom. “I can say I feel strongly towards it.”

“Mm,” Tom nods, smiling at the floor. “I thought so, which doesn’t sound like a bad thing coming from you. It is your first time traveling to and attending a gala, isn’t it?”

“It is,” you confirm. “I’m a little anxious about it but excited. You know, I’m sure that same excuse has been made a million times over, so,” you laugh quietly to yourself. “I don’t know.”

“Sure, but that’s normal,” Tom replies back. “It’s a formal gala and this one only takes place every few years, especially on the anniversary date for the Corleone family business in Reno and Las Vegas.”

“Did Michael send you?” You give Tom a small smile, thinking this may just be last-minute reassurance on Michael’s behalf since you don’t expect him to come into the study to talk with you one on one at this hour.

Only a split second later do you feel embarrassment wash over you, wondering why you just asked Tom that.

“No?” Tom blinks in confusion, “I thought I’d come to check in on you.”

“Don’t think me ungrateful, Tom,” you giggle, “I get it. I really appreciate it. I just thought Michael may have sent you because he’s essentially said the same to me.”

“Of course he did,” an amused grin forms over Tom’s lips. “Which is why he’d want me to tell you that if you do have any questions or concerns, Michael would want you to voice it to him directly, not to me or even through me.”

“That makes sense,” you blush, glancing away.

‘If it’s an excuse to see and talk to Michael, I’ll take it…’

“Michael as I can already guess,” Tom rolls his eyes before laughing to himself, “wants you to feel as comfortable and welcome at the gala as you do here. Still think he’s intimidating?”

You glance back at Tom and the two of you stare at each other for a moment before you both burst out laughing.

“No?” you say through your laughter, covering your mouth.

“I know, I know,” Tom holds his hands up in surrender. “I hate to word it that way, but I just had to ask. I know Michael can be when he wants to.”

“Maybe so,” you lean back in your seat, “but I don’t really see it. I’m getting to know Michael better and understanding the kind of man he is as I am with the rest of the family.”

“Good,” a look of relief crosses Tom’s expression. “Then that’s all you need, hmm? We take very good care of our own, Marina. You don’t have to take my word for it,” Tom puts his hands into the pockets of his trousers, smiling at you. “And Michael cares about you, don’t forget that.”

~

“Michael cares about you, don’t forget that.”

Tom’s words linger with you long after he’s retired for the evening, and only then do they sink in and you find yourself begging your heart not to overthink it again.

Relaxing your muscles against your seat, you let out a soft breath and gaze around the study room, feeling accomplished to have finished your work for the day, planned next week’s lessons upon your return from the gala, and have all of your paperwork in order.

You’ve had a productive day at the very least, leaving you only to think about how tomorrow will be.

You know Esther went to bed early tonight, exhausted from keeping up with the children and you don’t blame her, but it leaves you without anyone to confide in tonight.

You’re still in the Corleone manor’s study after all but until the pouring rain begins to still or at least return to a drizzle, you doubt you can make it across the compound and back to your room without risk of catching a cold and being completely soaked.

‘No rush…’ You nibble on your bottom lip, pushing thoughts of the Las Vegas gala aside to think about tomorrow when it truly matters.

Brushing a curtain of your hair behind your ear, you stretch out your arms and let out a soft grunt as you rise up from your seat—deciding to indulge in a novel for a bit as you wait for the rain to settle down.

You move towards the bookshelves, stopping in your tracks for a moment to look at the sheer amount of bookshelves and selections remaining before you.

There are well over a dozen bookshelves on both sides of the study, placed for ample room so several people can pick and choose from one bookshelf at a time and so the study neither appears looking overcrowded or empty.

On each bookshelf remains small gold engraved labels stating what genre of books are on what shelf, particularly the books labeled under “history” further specifying years leading to language guides, fiction novels, first edition classics, non-fiction, and much more.

You blink at the selection, pleasantly taken back from so many choices that you almost feel overwhelmed at the thought of picking one novel when you could very well spend an endless amount of time in this study if you wanted to.

You walk over to one of the history-labeled bookshelves neatly organized with pressed newspapers, file folders, and leather-covered books next to well-preserved documents when you notice a label on the top shelf reading “FAMILY”.

You pause, wondering if this is a private section and if you should even be touching t in the first place.

Your eyes continue to wander over newspapers and documents on the top shelf as you gently pick through them with your finger so as not to cinch or damage any of the paper.

Starting at the very left side of the top shelf, common sense tells you that if there’s anything on this shelf—let alone in this study—that you’re not allowed to access or see, it wouldn’t be here.

The first few newspaper articles you touch over mention “CRIME FAMILY” with names of mafia families you’ve heard of and those you haven’t.

The names “Barzini” and “Tattaglia” stand out to you first and foremost, with the articles always mentioning the phrases “criminal underworld”, “boss”, or “big shot” to describe what you assume to be top-ranking mafiosi or the Dons of the crime families themselves.

Many of the newspapers you come across are dating chronologically from the start of the 1930s to all throughout the 1940s, consistently mentioning crime, the FBI, cases gone cold, or how the police are trailing them but it’s not until you get to 1946 that shock suddenly hits you.

You pull out a newspaper article with the front page reading: "VITO CORLEONE FEARED MURDERED: POLICE HUNT GUNMEN".

On the left side of the front page is a black and white portrait of Don Vito Corleone—Michael’s late father and on the right side, a photograph of the police and paramedics carrying a grievously wounded Vito in a stretcher.

‘Oh my God.’ You quickly set that article aside to read before finding another following it also dated in 1946 reading “POLICE CAPTAIN LINKED WITH DRUG RACKETS” next to a third article reading “POLICE HUNT COP KILLER”.

Setting those two aside with the article about Vito Corleone, the next article dated in 1947 you take out reads “THIRD MONTH OF GANGLAND VIOLENCE”.

‘There’s a pattern here…’ Moving towards the end of the shelf, you notice the coloring of the newspapers change—lighter and newer than the old articles you picked out.

Picking out the most recent newspaper placed last on the shelf, you find a blush hitting your cheeks immediately and almost dropping the article from your hands at the sight of a large black and white portrait of Michael himself on the front page; “MICHAEL CORLEONE: BUSINESSMAN THROUGH CORLEONE LEGACY”.

Gazing at the photograph of Michael, your heart rate begins to race in your chest once more—accompanied by a dizzying wave of butterflies.

Taking that last newspaper with the others you picked out, you look out towards the window and continue to hear the thundering rain.

The study door remains closed as Tom left it and you can’t hear any approaching footsteps, but then again you aren’t doing something you shouldn’t be, even if it may be embarrassing to explain to someone why you’re reading all of these old articles.

Funny enough, the recent article of Michael dated a month back would make the most sense, but not the others in your hands that you’re curious to read and learn more about.

“I mafiosi non sono tuoi amici. Ti useranno e poi ti uccideranno.” (Don’t trust Mafiosi as we did. Mafiosi are not your friends; they’ll use you and then they will kill you.)

You remember your mother and father’s warning words to you after the deaths of your brothers as you take the newspaper articles back to your desk to read.

These articles are nothing but mafia territory and an explanation of it; you know very well who Don Vito Corleone was and the legacy behind the Corleone family, after all.

Taking a seat and leaning your arms down on the desk, you begin to read the article “VITO CORLEONE FEARED MURDERED: POLICE HUNT GUNMEN”.

The article reads that Vito Corleone was found shot five times in the chest at close range while he was out with his son Fredo Corleone at a local fruit market.

It’s mentioned that Vito fell to his suspected demise in front of witnesses and passersby near the fruit stand who fled in terror.

Fredo Corleone—Vito’s son and on scene—was reported to be terrified beyond words; in a state of shock, sobbing and helplessly wailing over what he believed to be his father’s corpse.

Fredo was found by the police covered in his father’s blood and pleading with the paramedics and police officers to help.

You clasp a hand over your mouth, disheartened by what you’re reading.

Fredo is Michael’s older brother and you’re bound to meet him tomorrow as well—hearing from Kay that Fredo’s been in Hollywood for the past two months with his wife, famous actress Deanna Dunn who will also attend the Las Vegas gala.

‘This must be Fredo…’ Flipping the page, you see a somewhat blurry photograph of Fredo sobbing on the sidewalk with his face in his hands as Vito Corleone is taken away in a stretcher by paramedics.

The rest of the article continues to describe Vito as a “hot shot underworld gangster”, although such terms aren’t unheard of to you, especially growing up in Hell’s Kitchen.

The suspected gunmen are being investigated—the article states—and Fredo was also hospitalized due to his state of shock.

Lastly, before the article comes to an end, it mentions Vito Corleone is reported to be in critical condition and it’s not certain if he will make it or not.

The newspaper ends by saying this may be the start of violence as you or anyone else reading this article could have figured out since it’s all too common for full-blown mob wars to start when someone chooses to target a Don.

‘That’s a complete declaration of war, but were the police truly investigating?’ You assume that Vito must have had the police on his payroll for that to even take place.

‘And what about “POLICE HUNT COP KILLER”?’ At first glance of the front pages, you don’t recognize any correlation from the two newspapers but from their placement alone on the bookshelf, you know they must be related somehow.

As you read through both—comparing and contrasting dates and events noted in the articles as you go—you realize the dates of each article are just a week apart.

“POLICE CAPTAIN LINKED WITH DRUG RACKETS” was almost stuffed between “POLICE HUNT COP KILLER” on the shelf and revealed all of these events occurred within a week of each other.

The articles tell you that at a small, family-owned, Italian-American restaurant called Louis Restaurant, police Captain Mark McClusky was killed.

The article details that McClusky was shot once in the neck and then in the forehead at very close range and that he had been with a businessman named Virgil Sollozzo who was dining with him.

Sollozzo was also killed alongside McClusky; shot twice in the head which is suspected to be immediately after McClusky and both perished together at the dining table.

“My God,” you mumble to yourself, blinking at the headlines.

Naturally, it makes sense to you that one of the Corleone men—most likely a buttonman considering the stakes and killings done in a public restaurant—must have done this.

‘Does it have anything to do with Vito Corleone being shot? It must be. It has to be for revenge.’

When your eyes gloss over the next newspaper article reading “POLICE CAPTAIN LINKED WITH DRUG RACKETS” immediately tells you this police Captain McClusky himself was directly involved with the mafia and the dates can only further reveal it must have been either for Barzini or Tattaglia.

Those are the only two mafia families you’ve heard of that have corrupted themselves with smuggling and selling narcotics and you can already guess what a wide-scale scandal this headline must have created.

It makes all the more sense why a man like McClusky and Sollozzo would both be killed, especially together.

If it’s one thing you know about the mafia, it’s that they will not kill an innocent person deliberately; considering the mafia family at hand upholds Sicilian mafioso traditions and customs.

Mafia families have no room to appear anything less than decent and proper, lest they risk exposing their own corruption and members to law enforcement and the public eye.

With two shots in the head a piece—just like how your brothers were gunned down—you know Sollozzo wasn’t collateral damage; he was a target just as much as McClusky was.

Picking up the article titled “MICHAEL CORLEONE: BUSINESSMAN THROUGH CORLEONE LEGACY”, you sigh in relief to see the article has nothing to do with the others you’ve read.

Dated just a month ago, the up close and personal portrait of Michael on the front page has your heart racing and begging for you to stop gazing upon it again and again.

Turning the page, you immediately begin to read the article that explains to you how Michael Corleone, son of underworld bigshot Vito Corleone is a successful businessman on his own terms and by his own hard work and gain.

Vito Corleone himself may have been infamous but was also a respected man, and aside from generational wealth, Michael further gained a positive and lucrative reputation and opportunity for the Corleone family following Vito’s death.

Unlike Vito, the newspaper states Michael does not involve himself in bookmaking, racketeering, or other forms of crime found brewing n the mafia’s hand but invests in businesses, stocks, casinos, hotels, and resorts.

The article also names that the most successful and booming hotel resorts owned by the Corleones are the biggest ones in Reno and Las Vegas and that the Corleone family plans to continue expanding.

Michael’s stated to be very successful in all of the best ways possible building off of his father’s legacy, and is also noted to be a multi-millionaire who married his college sweetheart—a woman named Kay Adams Corleone—in 1951.

With the mere mention of “college sweetheart” alone, you find yourself frowning without even being aware of it—once again feeling a sting of jealousy hit you.

Reading past the part that says Michael and Kay have two children with each other, you’re just about to set the newspaper down and organize all of them to put them back on the shelf when you notice you left one article aside without touching it.

The last newspaper you set out has a bold headline reading “THIRD MONTH OF GANGLAND VIOLENCE” and when you pick it up, it details that over three months of violence ensued between the Corleones, Tattaglias, and Barzinis but even the newspaper has worded such “conflict” in a crafty way so as not to state it explicitly.

This article appears to be the next one chronologically dated after “POLICE CAPTAIN LINKED WITH DRUG RACKETS” and stresses that a bloody mafia war has cost the families in lives and millions with no sign of stopping or being sidetracked.

It’s only when you reach the very end of the article do your eyes widen in shock as you clasp a hand over your mouth.

The last bit states the eldest son of Vito Corleone and his protegee—Santino Corleone—was assassinated by what is suspected to be the Barzini family.

“Jesus…” You remember Tom briefly mentioning Santino, his, Fredo’s, and Michael’s eldest brother but from the looks of the article, it’s very apparent to you that Santino was a full-on mafioso and completely involved in all activities of the family.

You know you should have no pity in your heart for the death of any mafioso, but you can’t help yourself but feel empathy for Santino Corleone’s death even though you’ll never meet him or understand the man he was behind his criminal activities.

‘He was a Corleone too, after all.’

Finally setting down all of the newspapers before you in a neat pile, you take a deep breath and rub your sore eyes.

Your gaze meets up with the locked door of the study once more as you mentally remind yourself that you’re not doing anything “wrong” or “snooping” but that what you just did actually benefit you in learning more about the Corleone family on your own terms.

Everything you’ve just read may have explained the bloody mafia history behind the Corleone family name amidst others, but nothing shows you Michael is or was ever involved.

The article revolving around Michael practically sings of his praises, saying Michael is a young, witty, and cunning businessman who holds the reigns of the Corleone family and leads it to success.

Yet again, you have no second thoughts about Michael, no doubts in your heart about his integrity or honesty and you believe and trust in Michael to be a good person.

You want him to be and you trust him to be, just the way you trust Michael to show you that side of him to you tomorrow.

~

[ Next Morning ]

With the excitement ringing through the compound coming from the Corleone women up early to have bodyguards and chauffeurs begin packing their bags, you momentarily went into a panic thinking you must have slept into the afternoon.

Recognizing it Sandra, Connie, and Kay’s anticipation put them in a rush to get packed and ready, the first thing you do in the morning after refreshing in the bathroom and pulling on a simple shirtwaist dress is putting your one piece of luggage outside and next to Kay’s three to be loaded into one of the cars.

By the time you’re out to set your luggage down, Kay and the others are back in shouting hairstyle and makeup suggestions back and forth to each other to get it all done before the afternoon.

You smile to yourself, turning around and squinting your eyes up at the warm sun soaking over your skin. You know you won’t be spending half as much time getting glammed up for a plane ride to Vegas and that you’ve got ample time in your day to get ready.

Just as you’re about to turn back on your heel and head back to your living quarters to properly begin to get ready you hear Michael’s velvety voice calling for you from behind.

“Good morning, Marina,” you hear Michael speak as you stop in your tracks and suddenly you feel almost bare and hardly semi-presentable before him.

‘Oh my God.’ With instant reaction, your muscles clench from arousal in the presence of Michael—eagerly gazing at the new tailored, three-piece, black and silk Italian suit he’s wearing; black silk tie and gold cufflinks.

Michael’s hair is gelled back and parted through the middle neatly; not a single hair loose nor a wrinkle in his suit with all the awareness you’re not able to get your eyes off of him even if you wanted to.

“I hope you slept well,” Michael’s eyes meet yours as you turn around to face him; briefly admiring your natural beauty under the glowing rays of the sun.

‘This man… I swear.’

“Michael,” you breathe back, smiling at him. “As well as I could. I hope you have as well.”

Michael gives you a nod before gesturing his hand towards a bodyguard approaching from the other end of the compound, pointing towards your luggage in specific—not Kay’s or Connie’s.

“Thank you,” you whisper to the bodyguard who gives you an acknowledging glance before taking your luggage to pack next.

“It doesn’t hurt to be proactive and pack for this afternoon, however,” Michael glances back towards his and Kay’s estate. “Rest assured we’re still leaving at our planned time; no sooner, no later.”

“Right,” you chuckle. “I was just going to head back and get ready my—”

“ANTHONY! Anthony!” You hear Kay cry out from the estate in a hurry. “Sweetheart, don’t forget your tie! It’s not put on right! Come here, please.”

“Well,” Tom’s voice chimes in as he exits from the Corleone estate. “At this rate, we’ll all be ready by the afternoon. Hi, Marina.”

“Hi, Tom,” you give him a small wave, “are two cars taking us?”

“That’s right,” Michael nods.

“We might actually be back in three if…” Tom cringes, giving a short shrug. “If Fredo is bringing Deanna back to stay with us for a bit.”

Although you can tell Tom is more than just mildly irritated by the idea, you see Michael’s expression hardens at his suggestion but he doesn’t react further.

“Not something you look forward to?” You break the momentary silence falling in between you three.

“Uh,” Tom scratches the back of his neck, “I suppose not. Miss Dunn can be a handful and well, so can Fredo sometimes. You’ll see.”

Michael takes a step closer towards you before you three look back up towards the Corleone estate to see the front door burst open and Anthony snickering, rushing out with a loose tie over his neck and a helpless Kay following after him.

“Anthony, seriously!” Kay huffs, “Anthony, this isn’t funny! Get back here!”

‘Ah, Anthony…’

You notice as Tom grins and gestures towards Anthony. “Kid’s full of energy, what can you do? I’ll get him for you, Kay.”

“Thank you, Tom,” Kay sighs in relief, looking back over at Michael who redirected his gaze to yours almost immediately.

“Marina?”

“Yes?” The scarlet blush over your cheeks deepens.

“Walk with me,” he gestures, turning his back on Kay and the estate.

Nodding, you walk up closer to Michael and remain by his side as he leads you away from his estate and further back toward your living quarters, barely having acknowledged Kay in the midst of all that.

Kay blinks in confusion, watching Michael and you walk away together but from the exhaustion of keeping up with Anthony and hearing Mary calling back to her whining a bow fell out of her hair, Kay can’t keep her thoughts straight and think much else of it.

Michael doesn’t need to pull you away or talk to you privately, he simply prefers to.

“You’ve packed everything you need?” He finally asks you once you’re both away from anyone else’s hearing distance.

“Mhmm, everything’s good to go,” you reply back.

“There will be something else when you arrive at your hotel suite in Vegas,”  Michael tells you.

“Something else…?” Your eyes begin to widen with curiosity.

“You’ll see when you get there,” Michael makes direct eye contact with you. “Kay tells me you have everything you two ordered…”

‘Ordered. You were the one who picked out that dress for me…’

“It’ll be ready in your suite as well when you arrive.” Michael finishes his sentence. “That’s all.”

‘What?’

“Right,” you nod back—the smile on your lips growing. “And thank you again for that, Michael. I can’t thank you enough.”

“You can thank me by wearing it,” Michael replies—surprising you with his response instead of saying “You don’t need to” or something similar when he hears you thanking him again and again. “I want to see you in it tonight.”

“Of course…” From Michael’s words alone, the arousal pumping through you feels as if your pussy has a heartbeat of its own despite your mind begging you not to take Michael’s words the way your body craves to.

“Is there anything else I can do to make your experience more comfortable?” Michael asks, putting his hands in the pockets of his trousers as you begin to approach your living quarters.

“I’m sure there’s a million more questions I’d like to ask but none of them come to mind,” you admit, sheepishly. “Knowing me.”

“Then as I’ve requested, stay close with me tonight,” Michael comes to a stop, facing you. “And then I’ll know.”

“I…” Blushing furiously, you give your head a small shake. “I know we talked about this and—”

“We did,” Michael reaffirms. “But I’m no longer suggesting it or offering it to you. I’m asking you to do it.”

“Wouldn’t Mrs. Corleon—”

“Forget Kay,” Michael interrupts, looking sternly into your eyes. “This has nothing to do with her. I want you there with me tonight, understood?” With your heart beginning to pound in your chest, you hardly have a moment to reply back to Michael before he adds, lowering his tone to a soft, ushered one, “Knowing you, I don’t know where else you’d want to be.”

[ladylaviniya]

A Lesson In Service

Masterlist || Chapter 2

Chapter Summary: In 1880 you are hired as the governess of Lord Dalgliesh's children. When you meet your employer after months of already being in his employment you feel a strange change in your position. It's terrible when we discover the people we are expected to trust are as wicked and evil as the devil

Pairing: Lord!Henry Dalgliesh x Governess!reader

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Indimidation, Drugging, Implied infidelity, implied sex trafficking/solicitating, Implied sexual abuse, manipulation, blackmail, Victorian era period typical sexism.

Word Count: 8.5k

Author Notes: My dream cast is Henry Cavill as Lord Henry Dalgliesh. Colin Firth as Colin Fowler. Cillian Murphy as Cillian Walsh. Ben Barnes as Benjamin Byrnes. Natalie Viscuso as Natalia Naclerio Tom Hiddleston as Tom Ransome. Smut is next chapter.

Inspiring Song: “How many miles to Babylon.” child's lullaby

London, England 1888, Saturday 14th January. 18:45pm.

A loud crack of thunder rattled the windows to the study where a man sat back cradling a glass of scotch.

Henry Dalgliesh was most incredibly not a kind or purely generous gentleman. Long ago he’d learnt to accept the rude whispers about his behaviour, he believed being bothered by comments made by those lower than he in title was pointless prattle to even hear. Thank God for his large fortune, physical attractiveness and major title that allowed him to spend, whore, drink, gamble, and travel to wherever he dared to venture.

A shine of lightening defined the shadows of his chiselled jaw, his presence was forever intimidating. A wicked smirk laced across his devious face; he raised his scotch and toasted the frozen grin of his past wife’s portrait over the fireplace. Her painted golden locks shining as bright as they did when cascaded over their marriage bed, and her casket.

The late lady Natalia Dalgliesh or rather Naclerio, the unfaithful wench, had often accused him of being a cold and a selfish monster. He chuckled to himself at the memory of her tears along with her cruel tone. She was right. But what of she? At constant, a needy bitch in heat? A nymphomaniac? For her, was he not enough? Henry truly had tried with Natalia, at least for a time he forced himself to be what she had envisioned.

He huffed and set his drink aside on his desk.

Sweet Natalia, goodness was she a darling piece. She obviously used her own innocent beauty to gain the attention of anything that could mount her. Henry did wonder, where did he go wrong? Was his size not to her desire? Was her appetite craving another type of bodily position he did not know? How was he not satisfactory? She should’ve known better than to marry him knowing full well he was not a man of pure affections.

In the end however he would forever remember her vile speech about how she had never loved him not that he cared- and that he was not even the legitimate father of their two darling children. Just like now he experienced a swirl of nausea in the pit of his stomach and a burning headache to his temple.

He lifted the scotch and pelted it at the painting, glass and alcohol splattered across her face down her neck and into her bosom he ever so missed. Her expression mocked him, that smile, the same lips that tricked him into losing fifteen years of valuable time.

He hated her.

Henry bit his lip and snarled, “Good riddance, you selfish cunt...you should count yourself lucky...Lucky it wasn’t my own hand that ended you.” Tears filled his eyes. His bottom lip trembled.

And sometimes, he missed her.

A whole year had went by. The four seasons changing back into the one that began his torment. Little Marianne and Michael, his beloved children had been sorely neglected for so long he knew it was time to return home. After the exposure of their false parentage, he felt an agony in even them knowing that their faces were of no spawn of his, Henry admitted he needed to man up and care for what his stupid wife left behind.

Yes, it was now time for the Earl of Jersey to return home to his estate of Radier Manor.

He buried his face into his hands and sighed, before plucking up the unopened envelope by his desk.

Radier Manor Jersey, England 1888, Monday 9 April. 01:30 pm.

On a canvas was a very artistic image of a charcoal vase of flowers. Leaves and petals shaded in nothing but strategic black strokes. You were delicately scraping the black drawing charcoal across the white papers when the intruding house keeper Mrs Sharpe simmered inside the children’s nursery.

The wrinkled prude sneered distinctively towards the you and you lessons to the two children, sitting on either side of you. Her dark greying hair appeared a little to tightly pinned today. Her thin lips slightly redder than normal...your eyes tried not to strain at the possibility of rogue on her cheeks. You forced a kind grin at her arrival.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Mrs Sharpe scowled, “I’m to inform you that you are required downstairs to the masters’ study immediately. He has just officially arrived and desires the attention of all new staff in his study, now,” her lips tightened whilst looking you up and down, “Oh! And do...I pray- make yourself a little presentable.”

The callously spoken crone tapped her cheek in reference to the black marks covering your face and rolled her eyes in annoyance as she spun sharply around to leave.

Your forced grin fell once the elder woman noisily stalked out of the room with her keys rattling away on the hip of her chain.

Rubbing your hands clean on your art apron you then turned and smiled to the two younglings in your care.

A pair of twins aged eight years old with dark reddish hair and similar features. The boy beheld blue eyes while his sister gained a pair of hazel.

“Well, my little darlings, I suppose our lesson in art must be placed on wait until tomorrow? I shall see you at supper and tomorrow we shall continue our art lesson but with watercolours instead.” You smiled at an excited Michael who unpinned the scribbly mess and Mary, who perched over her own work of rose sketching. Black smudges covered little Mickey’s hand who had given up his attempt of drawing daffodils and went by a creative approach of squiggly lines and stick figures of those in the household.

Nanny Nettle who sat in the corner of the room, polishing the children’s shoes chuckled, “Sharpe doesn’t make no move to hide her ill feelings towards you.”

You sighed, shrugged and looked to the elderly scots woman with a look of despair written across your face, “Mrs Nettle, I don’t understand,” You started to pack up the art equipment into a small supply chest and carried the box of art equipment to the children’s bookshelf, putting them away. Michael folded his picture to his chest while his sister placed her art on her miniature duchess.

While you folded the canvas stands the woman with her twinkling milky eyes observed you with an amused curl in her lip.

“I have been governess here for most of the winter and this spring, but Mrs Sharpe still treats me like a unwanted pest- I have done naught but share my kindness, my patience and my help around the estate: I mean really? What have I done to upset her so?” You approached the nanny and sat at her feet wiping your face with the corner of your apron of any black marks.

The children went and washed their small hands in the basin and hung their aprons on a wall hook.

“What have you done to offend her, lass?” Nanny Nettle grinned and shook her head, pausing her polishing she reassuringly patted the young woman’s cheek.

“I gather it be that she didn’t have a say in your employment to the household dear. That cow likes having everything under her control,” She cackled suddenly, “O’ course, it also don’t help that her nephew Thomas, that footmen who likes to smoke in the barn, can’t seem to keep his eyes off your chest when you waddle pass, acting like a drooling dog he does.”

You gawked and quickly fled to Mary’s side, holding her ears, if you had another hand you would’ve covered Mickey’s too.

You softly hissed with a flushed face, “Please Mrs Nettle, I must request you keep a decorum of respectful language in front of the children. And furthermore,” you flushed, “I don’t appreciate your jesting since I’ve never seen Mr Ransome acting so beastly as that. He is a gentleman.”

The older woman chuckled at your sweet innocent alarm and shrugged, “Alright, I’m merely explain’ why that housekeeper

‘Hoity Toity’ has it out for you, dear.”

You sighed and released the confused Mary who was very curious about why her Nanny compared her father’s footman to a puppy. In the end of her mind boggling, the girl went to sit on her bed and play with her doll she had come to name Antoinette.

The Nanny pointed her wrinkled finger at the door and then jabbed it back at the you, “Best be off downstairs Governess, the master don’t like to be kept waiting. He’s not known for his patience, lord knows I couldn’t teach it to him.”

Breath hitching, you nodded vigorously and hung the apron on the hook before you fled outside the nursery, down the hall to the stair case. You hurriedly descended the stairs while you prayed desperately that the Earl of Jersey did not take the same disliking to you that housekeeper Sharpe had. Fixing your hair into what you deemed suitable, you skated passed the kitchens.

It was honestly a miracle you had this position. You were a newly officialised governess just starting out in your first family, becoming employed on your first letter of recommendation written as a favour by a friend of your late father, Lord Colin Fowler. You desperately vowed to help the children grow fruitfully and improve intelligence majorly. Your wages were above the average at fifty pounds a year, including the free house boarding and food.

You knew there would be a time and day where you would need to ask or at least thank your employer for his generosity. You had worried that when you would meet him, he would see you for what you really were...a country mouse with only the capacity to teach what little you knew in the arts and literature.

Biting your lip, you decided all you wanted in this world was acceptance. And you truly needed the lord of the estate to accept you; Your father’s debt rested heavily on your shoulders at the moment. Your mother died a few days after the birth of your little sister Odette, and your father was a tremendously poor loser in gambling poker. He’d left you and Odette with a cough that killed him along with no money or respectable station in society.

At only a young age of eighteen, you’d been forced to leave the quiet life of the pastures in the south for the employment of the east. Boarding the ship out to this island was the most scary thing you had to partake. And in fact you had casted your bowls over the sides of the rocking boat more than twice.

Your twelve year old sister Odette was thankfully now in the custody of the kind and charitable Lord Fowler who only required a monthly fee to care for her which you were utterly grateful for. It was unfortunate though that even after the auctioning of your family cottage and small farm, plus your exuberant wages was still not enough to entirely pay the debts Mr Y/L/N left. If you were not so frugal with the expenses of books and dresses you owned, you wouldn’t be getting by and that terrified you.

‘Do not fall front you silly girl’, you mentally scolded, ‘if you muck up it’ll be Odette to pay for it.’

Reaching the closed door of the Earl’s study, you stood frozen and hesitated from twisting the door handle. Mentally and physically prepping yourself, you straightened your back and held your head high- but not too high to present too confident in a man’s presence, let alone an Earl.

Quickly you checked your hair again and the hairpins that secured it down in the ‘appropriate style’. Your hands you then noticed trembled, ‘goodness why am I so nervous!?’ your shaky fingers pressed down on your dark navy skirt.

You bit your lip and self-assuredly nodded, finally lifting your hand up to the wood and serving three slight taps. The door opened wide, behind it was Mr Cillian Walsh, the house’s head butler and supposedly personal keeper to the Lord Dalgliesh.

The butler gave you a grand smile, he was one of the most friendliest of the staff here in Radier

Manor. He was the one to first welcome you when you had gotten off the boat many moons ago. And Cillian was extremely helpful and kind, especially when it came to the children. He was the one to inform the little dears of their father’s planned return.

“Miss Y/N, do come in,” he whispered and fondly winked, “His lordship is eager to meet you.”

He stepped aside and bowed his head a little to you. Stepping into the study for the first time, you noticed another young man waiting inside. He clearly was another new employee of the household.

And in front of him was an extremely handsome male.

You had seen his painting in the drawing room but it was nothing compared to his true form. The Earl was sitting behind his large desk and when you walked into the room you witnessed him rise at your entrance. Y/N’s eyes widened. The painting depicted him with an image of late forties but now you gathered his age to be somewhere in his middle thirties or early forties. The painter had drastically aged him. His chiselled jawline and thin lips romanticised his face along with his soft brown curls falling like gentle swirls down his cheek.

What the painting hadn’t entailed too was his height. By god he would have put Goliath to shame giant. You had never met such a broad and tall man in your life. Your eyes widened as he slowly bowed his head to you respectfully.

Snugly fitted to his muscular frame was a black waistcoat that matched his deep blue eyes. It wasn’t hard to say you felt a tickle of attraction to this man. On his left hand a gold band entrapped his finger.

‘That’s right, he was a married man’.

You swallowed quietly and moved to stand beside the younger stranger with a leaner appearance, and dashing mid length Jett black hair.

The Earls gaze was dominating. His aura intensely intimidating. And it was all pinned directly onto you...poor thing. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach as the Earl’s eyes paused in front of you.

You kept your eyes low under his cool regard and fought to stand still and not fidget.

“Good day, it is my desire to formally welcome you both to Radier Manor despite the unfortunate obvious that one of you has been in my care for a few months already,” your employer said glancing your way while he stepped forward from behind his desk, “As I am sure you must already know, I am Henry Dalgliesh, the Earl of Jersey.”

Cillian gestured his white gloves hand to you while clearing his throat, “My lord, this is Miss Y/N

Y/L/N, the new governess.”

You curtsied too low and before it was too late you almost tripped yourself onto his shoes when his heavy hand caught your shoulder. A rush of blood dusted your face from nervous embarrassment. You wobbled back onto your feet and softly apologised for your clumsiness, eyes staring at his shoes.

Unseen by you, Henry smirked. Holding his palm out to you, you gently laid her own clammy own into his hand. He bent his head, his eyes set on your heated face while his oh so very soft lips pressed against the hot skin of your fingers, “Miss Y/L/N, It is a pleasure to make your official acquaintance after all this time.”

His facial expression was unreadable, only that he appeared to be kind and polite…

‘Oh goodness, he smells divine, like baked biscuits!’

The butler cleared his throat again, “and here Sir, is Mr Benjamin Byrnes, the secretary from Wimbledon.”

Cillian continued to inform the master about his benefits for this particular Secretary but you were too distracted by the Earls penetrating eyes that had refused to stop staring you down. Your heart pounded against your chest, you felt like you body was being dragged towards him despite being completely still and unmoving. Your eyes locked for a painfully wonderful eternity.

You exhaled gratefully when the Cillian led you and the secretary out of the study after Henry shook Benjamin’s hand and allowed the you both to remain employment. You felt weak and tired by your first encounter. After all you never expected to experience such an debilitating presence.

Radier Manor Jersey, England 1888, Monday 9 April. 18:30 pm.

That night Lord Henry didn’t make his appearance at supper, he was too busy under some account, which sourly upset the children who missed their father greatly.

And when said that they were upset, they were very, very disappointed. The twins had become woeful and unpleasantly behaved, deciding to ignore their food and gossip about what their father had done while he was away.

Marianne was mature and stated confidently that he was a business man perform business duties, when asked what duties they were she was unable to answer.

Michael on the other hand was a wild imagination. He was certain that his father had been away fighting criminals and bringing justice to the realm. He stabbed his mutton and exclaimed it was how he believed his father ran a sword through wicked men.

As Cillian passed with a tray to take to the masters study he paused and pinched Michaels cheek, before commanding the boy eat his dinner lest it turned totally cold.

After dinner concluded Nanny Nettle took them back to the nursery to ready for bed...

But as you were making your way down to the servant quarters where your room laid, you were nearly knocked over by a hurling body that flung itself back when it collided with your strong body.

You rubbed your belly with a light groan and looked dow at the floor and baring witness to one of your students.

Michael’s shirt front had a large wet spot. His red face was scrunched up, puffy crying eyes spilled tears and down his nose and chin was a trail of snot and drool. His little fists clenched and unclenched while he continued to wipe his face on his soaked sleeves. He was crying loudly.

Shockingly he stood up and collided into you but this time clung to you and held up his hands in silent pleas. Between tears he was clearly crying out sentences that were incoherent. You carefully pieced together what was wrong when you managed to hear, “Papa”.

Sighing you bent onto your knees and cupped under his armpits and lifted him up onto your hip and held him close, rocking him softly. He reminded you in that moment of your sister Odette who cried when your father died. You patted his back, he was a baby missing his parents. You rocked him as he clung to your shoulders.

The little boy sobbed into your neck and held onto you like you were a life anchor.

“O’Mickey dear, hush now, hush,” You gently cooed as you walked him to the nursery which conveniently was just down the hallway.

Your heels clicked to the thudding of the nursemaids’ feet just as she called around the corner “Michael! Where are you, Lad!? There you are!” She puffed, following her was Marianne who also looked to have been crying with the red hue of her eyes.

You turned to Mrs Nettle and smiled sadly, “I think someone won’t be letting go anytime soon,” just as you said this, Michael tightened his grasp on her blouse and shoved his head deeper into your neck, “Shall I put the children to bed?”

The Nanny looked slightly shocked at the offer, her grey brows raised and jaw dropped before sputtering “O’ course lass, I’ll get their nightclothes.”

As she tried to walk pass you into their bedroom, you reached out and touched her hunching shoulder. You knew the children needed a female figure who was frankly a lot younger than Mrs Nettle, sixty five years younger perhaps.

“Please Mrs Nettle, I can manage. Come Marianne, time for bed,” You held out a hand to the girl that tilted her head and bit her lip, reaching out to grab at your hand.

After bidding the Nanny a good night the three of you went inside.

Closing the door behind them, you softly sighed and brushed through Michael’s auburn curls with your fingers trying to sooth him a little more as his crying dialled down to sniffles. Slowly you sat on his bed, Marianne sat on hers across you both.

“Mary darling,” you gentle asked, rubbing her brothers back, “Could you please fetch yours and your brother’s night clothes?”

“Yes Miss Y/L/N,” She sniffled and smiled sweetly before hurrying off to the draws and closet.

Eventually you detached little Michael from your body and laid him down on the mattress. You quickly undressed the boy and soothingly brushed his wet cheeks with your thumbs. When

Marianne came back with the clothes, you made it your sole duty to ready them for bedtime.

The two hadn’t seen their father in over a year is what you had heard through the staff and on the day of lord Henry’ return he is ‘too busy’ for them?

You beckoned Marianne closer, you slipped off Marianne’s skirts and slipped over her head her long white nightgown. Marianne mumbled as she tugged her night dress on, “Pap- I mean Father, he did not want to wish us a good night and,” she choked, her little lips started to wobble, “Mrs

Sharpe smacked Michael across the cheek when he would not obey to leave.”

You gasped and brought her into your arms. While holding her close, you heard her ask on the brink of a sob, “Does he not really love us?”

‘What kind of man would act such a way ’, you grumbled to yourself, ‘and here I thought he was a very good looking man inside as he was outside. He’s unkindly neglectful of the family who missed and love him dearly.’

Then you sighed, ‘maybe he’s an extremely important man concerning business matters. He does after all own land on which now is booming with tourists.’

“I am sure your father loves you dearly Marianne,” you cooed and rubbed her back as she hiccuped.

Buttoning up his night shirt and wiping his wet face with his sleeve cuff, Michael had calmed down completely.

Turning her around to undo her braids, Marianne asked, “Miss Y/L/N? Can you…can you please sing to me and Mickey?”

Your fingers froze in Marianne’s hair. Such a request was endearing to you but was it too intimate? The girl turned around and forced herself into a hug between you . It was Marianne’s teary eyes that forced you to cave in.

“I can Mary,” you assured and pinched her shoulder playfully, “After you’re in bed.”

A bright grin returned to the little girls face. She and Michael eagerly clambered into their beds, diving beneath the covers.

You tucked the blankets of both their beds and made sure their sheets rested up to their chins. Then you laid Antoinette the dolly beside Mary on her pillow and picked up a toy solider off the floor, setting it on the bed side table next to little Michael. The two children gazed up to you awaiting their lullaby from their governess.

Carefully you knelt onto the floor and turned down the kerosene lamp on their shared bedside draw. Humming first and slowly slipping into song, you sang…

“How many miles to Babylon? Three score miles and ten.” They smiled and gasped lightly, happy and content.

“Can I get there by candle-light? Yes and back again.”

The little ones nuzzled into their pillows and smiled at you after sneaking a glance at each other almost as though they were keeping a secret with one another.

“If your heels are nimble and light, three more miles and ten, you may get there by candle-light there and back again.” You kissed each of their foreheads and tapped their noses softly.

“King and Queen of Cantelon, How many miles to Babylon?”

You stood and went to the curtains and drew them open, up in the night sky was a full moon shining down on them.

“Eight and eight, and another eight. Will I get there by candle-light?”

Coming back to the children, kneeling next to them you noticed Michaels mouth open wide and yawn silently. His eyes shut lose and his yawn lift his lips softly parted. Exhaustion took him first.

“If your horse be sprite and good and your spurs be bright.”

You continued to the last line of the diddy as you observed Marianne’s lashes fluttering down.

“How many soldiers there have been? More than yee dare come and see."

You laid your hands over both their belly's and rubbed small circles into them.

"How many miles to Babylon? Three more miles and ten. Can I get there by candle-light? Yes and back again."

Their chests lifted up and down with the steady slumber they fell into.

You whispered the final line, "Yes and back agaaiiinn."

It was such a sweet sight. You knew deep in your heart you loved them, for such little bodies they had such big hearts. From the moment you arrived they had been nothing but joyful creatures and to see them distraught so terribly by their father and housekeeper broke your heart. You smiled and rose from the floor to kiss both of their little foreheads again. Each softly moaned in their sleep and turned their heads into the pillows away from your sweet kisses.

Turning the kerosene down completely, You walked out of the nursery into the door way and carefully closed the door behind you. You prayed it wasn’t too loud to wake them up.

The sound of movement caught your attention away from the nursery, your eyes viewed a slight shadow moving through a door way at the end of the hall. For a moment you clenched the front of your blouse in fear of any ghosts.

‘Must be a servant cleaning one last room.’

You had no fear and no knowledge of any existing dangers. You decided to not worry, after all you were clearly safe and just needed to go to bed. You were tired from a day of work and meeting the formidable master of the manor.

Radier Manor Jersey, England 1888, Monday 9 April. 18:56 pm.

You retreated to the quiet sanctuary of your room. Located on the same floor as the laundry parlour but its door was opposite the wall. You were still grateful for your given room, since it was bigger than your own cottage one on the farm you sold off, not only that but the bed mattress was so comfortable that most morning you’d lay there and pray it was Sunday so you didn’t have to rise up and sleep in until the afternoon church service in town. In fact the only issue with your room was the lack of warmth with no fireplace.

Stripping down to nakedness you ripped over your head your cotton nightgown before unpinning your hair. Placing each pin onto the duchess and scratching your scalp you sighed and preceded to slink into your bed. You shut your eyes preparing for the world of being governess another day. Though after turning and tossing beneath the covers that provided the tiniest of warmth for another hour, you huffed and flung the sheets away. Sleep just wasn’t an option tonight.

It was like an itch as your mind trailed off in recalling all the activities of the day and vaguely came to remember the meeting with his lordship. O’ how he had kissed your hand in his study. The odd sensation of butterflies returned to your belly. Your thumb rubbed over the spot where his lips had touched.

‘Did he kiss every young ladies hand like that? Surely not? I should perhaps be offended by such impropriety...what would his wife have thought? He should still be in mourning, as should I...o’ he is a Earl after all...and he’s paying you plenty good, don’t be ungrateful over a light kiss on your hand.’

It was scandalous if thought long and hard about. But maybe that’s how lord’s greeted women of any standing.

You giggled to yourself as you imagined a scene of that wrinkly dragon Mrs Sharpe getting her paws kissed by the Earl. You imagined he would be very displeased doing so while the old beastly woman would salivate! What a lark!

Radier Manor Jersey, England 1888, Monday 9 April. 22:13 pm.

Knowing you were never going to sleep any time soon, your stomach made a faint murmur.

You believed that Mr Mikkelsen the cook wouldn’t mind if you went into the kitchen and snuck out a warm glass of milk and one of his sweet baked treats, surely that would aid this sleepless night? You rose from the bed with a sigh. Covering yourself with a wrapper that laid on the bar at the foot of the bed.

Making your way out of your room and through the halls that lead to the kitchen, your bare feet padded quietly across the carpet of the sitting room. You graciously were thankful for the moonlight that lit up the home through the unclosed curtains.

Your eyes casted to the wall above the unlit fireplace. His painting hung large and proud. The artwork held no candle to his true masculine beauty but might resemble his figure in another ten years. The moon truly reflected the blue eyes that lay on the canvas; they seemed to watch your every movement and with the stern frown brushed on his lips he didn’t look very pleased with your late awakening.

You tried not to think to hardly on your imagination.

Tiptoeing across the main entrance hall you sighed, finally you’d arrived. The wooden door was inches away from your fingertips, awaiting the moment you’d push it open; but something wasn’t right… Since a prickling sensation that trailed from the top of your skull, down your spine and through your legs suddenly sparked.

“Is it regular that you would wander about your employers home alone in the dark at night? Or is it just mine that’s so much more intriguing?”

Biting back a squeal of fright, you wheeled around to find that behind you was the Earl who had caught you attempting to sneak in the kitchen. His form was relaxed against the stair rail as he glared you down like a naughty child with arms folded across his chest similar to that of a displeased parent. Lord Henry body was basking in nothing but the light of the moon. His coat and cravat were long gone, his dark blue banyan draped over his shoulders and tied around his waist.

His height frightened you and made you feel inexplicitly tiny as a mouse.

This was your second meeting and now you realised how much you possibly looked like a dirty

thief.

You bit your lip and wrapped your arms around yourself nervously. It suddenly was obvious how immodest you appeared in your night garments, wandering about the house. You felt your breath quicken.

‘God, please don’t let him sack me’, you prayed.

You were already beyond humiliated and flustered at the extreme inappropriateness of being alone with the Earl in nothing but both your night wardrobe, you just couldn’t figure out how to politely flee back to your own room without walking around him.

You stammered “M-my Lord, please forgive me I had trouble sleeping an-and thought to get a glass of warm milk.” ‘Honesty is the best policy!’ your face screwed up into an embarrassed contortion, “Please do pardon and excuse my intrusion, I shall make way and return to my room immediately.”

You lifted a hand to your face and shielded your eyes away from Henry. Making movement to step around his tall form, you took your chance to escape, alas it was all in vain as the Earl’s large hand shot out and stole at your wrist. A high gasp drop from your parted lips. His grip not to rough but stern and strong. He was not making any notion to harm you, just to stop you from leaving his presence.

His warm liquid voice dripped out into your ears “Miss Y/L/N, please wait,” He pleaded in voice, his sapphire eyes mourned “I beg you not to leave under my sudden arrival.”

You bit your lip at the sight of his face- the hardness of his features fell away, replaced by a soft graceful smike as he quietly murmured, “It is not the first time one has found themselves awake in the night within search of Chef Mikkelsen’s delicious biscuits. Will you not sit for a moment with me?” he opened the kitchen door and gestured for you to enter.

You felt a gigantic wave of relief. Though the effects of shock were still attached to your body when all you could reply with was a scared hum.

Henry ventured into the pantry. You ventured around the table in the middle of the kitchen and looked around the spices that hung above the windows.

When his lordship came out with a tin box and two tea saucers, he noticed how his governess was standing in the middle of the kitchen looking rather…lost.

Clearing his throat he gathered your attention, “Miss Y/L/N please, do sit,” gesturing towards the chairs at the kitchen table, and graciously you sat in the chair when he dragged one out.

Laying the tin of biscuits down and placing the saucers in front of you, he fled to the cool room and collected a jug of milk. The stove unfortunately had been put out hours ago and the attempt to reheat it would take longer than desired.

He sighed, “I’m afraid only cold milk is available Miss Y/L/N.” He poured the ivory liquid into a rose painted china tea cup.

“Thank you nonetheless sir,” you politely smiled and accepted the cup into your hand. Laying your lips on the cup, you took a slight sip of the milk.

Your eyes widened, ‘this milk is phenomenon!’ Taking another small sip you hummed happily,

“Your milk must be sweeter here one the Island.”

It was lighter than cream but contained a watery consistency. Something edged the final flavour, it was eerily sweet like sugar or honey. The milk might’ve been cold to the lips but it was surprisingly warm in your belly.

Sitting down in front of you the Lord’s eyes were wide, “You haven’t tasted our milk? After all this time?” he jokingly gasped.

You shook your head. The past many weeks was too hectic for you to simply sit down and have a cup of tea or a glass of milk. You were too concerned for Odette’s wellbeing and support along with the Dalgliesh children’s education.

Your afternoons were busied with the planning of the next day. And even for the past three Sundays, you had caught sleep in bed and made sure your room was tidy and that you were ready for Mrs Sharpe intruding as she was known to do so well.

 The callous woman carried all the house keys on a large ring, so despite locking your door, your privacy would still be breeched. Henry threw his head back and laughed.

Your glanced between him and the kitchen door. He was so loud! What if someone saw you like this with him ? It would be the island scandal!

It didn’t matter...

For a man possibly ten to twenty years older than you, he was very charming and boyish; his smile made suddenly made you swoon. You grinned stupidly.

Lord Henry finally settled himself and paused, swallowing down a biscuit, and glanced over at you.

“Will you not have some of the biscuits? They’re sublime,” His long fingers hooked around the edge of the tin and held it out to her.

You shook your head again with all your meek sweetness, “Oh no, my lord, you enjoy it.”

You felt you had overstepped your place and should be humble when it came to his offers.

However a little growl from your middle betrayed your motives.

The Earl let loose another hearty laugh and stole a biscuit to give to you. Biscuit in hand reached out towards you.

Still you refused the offer knowing you should’ve removed yourself from that improper and intimate scenery, you whined “No, my lord, please I ca-“

The Earl smirked and shoved the treat into your talking lips, which caused you to stop midsentence and avoid not choking on the sweet biscuit. A light gag escaped you.

The crumbs rubbed rough on your throat and you wanted to be mad at the Lord but knew not to step that boundary, ‘you got yourself into this mess stupid girl.’

 “You’ll come to learn soon that I don’t take to hearing the word ‘No’ kindly Miss Y/L/N.” He flashed her a smile filled with bright whites, proud of his actions.

‘He’s rude and childish!’

A great prickling of hairs on the back of your neck rose up, something was telling you to be afraid of Henry. ‘But he only force fed you a biscuit calm down- if anything be grateful.’

“Now drink the rest of your milk, dear,” he said, pushing the cup up to your crumb covered lips.

You instantly sat back and away from his long claw like fingers, you now just wanted to go back to bed. Sculling down the sweet milk and hastily standing, you moved the chair back into place and waddled over to the sink.

You spoke respectfully but a slight tremble ran through your hands, “I should- um, I think it best I bid you a good night, my lord.”

‘Something is definitely not right, I shouldn’t be here…goodness Y/N don’t be such a scaredy cat!’ you chided yourself. Shaking your head slightly you told yourself firmly, ‘everyone knows full well that the gentry are an odd lot from time to time. He is just being friendly.’

Henry stood to attention and caught you again by the wrist before you could even lay the dishes into the sink. He had excellent aim for wrists it would appear. Providing you his uneasy smirk, he dragged you back in front of him. A single digit cupped your chin and wiped up to your parted gasping lips. Moving his finger away, he deliberately showed you the white spill of sweetness he’d caught on the corner of your mouth. His long tongue flicked out and licked up the drip before completely sucking his finger in front of you.

You gasped. ‘Too friendly, for a man of his standing; is he…with me? No, he can’t be flirting. Great scot girl, get a hold of yourself. Act not like the impute girls of your age, be a mature woman! Goodness! Why would he ever think like that? The man just lost his beloved wife a year ago.’

His hand holding your arm released and dug into the pocket of his over-night coat.

He tutted you softly “Come with me, I have an urgency to question and acquaint myself better with you.”

A hand twirled around your back and softly shoved you forward and guided you into the dark cold drawing room.

‘Is he escorting me back to my living space?’

Suddenly, he froze, his palm left your back and gestured to the lounge. You glanced behind back and up to your employer “Sir?”

“Sit,” he sharply directed followed by a lengthy spaced cough, “Please Miss Y/L/N,” he added “I desire to inquire about the children.”

You blinked under his intense stare, slowly you sat down in the lounge. You slowly drawled, “The children, my lord?”

Sitting down across from you, the Earl rubbed his hands, his brows raised followed by a light chuckle, “Yes Miss Y/L/N, the ones I am paying you to educate?” his fingers laced together.

….Marianne and Michael. So now he showed his care and interest of them?

You flushed and uneasily smiled, you felt like an utter fool, “Of course, my lord. They are doing exceptionally well. They have taken a joy to writing their own stories, they’ve demonstrated great imaginations.”

He didn’t seem too interested in what his children enjoyed that was obvious from his bodily reaction lacking any bright eyes or head perks. “I see...” He bit his lip and sighed, his face lifted to the fireplace. He looked at his portrait and snidely snickered to himself.

Scratching his chin he looked back to you, “Tell me, Miss Y/L/N, are you very tired?”

“Actually, my lord, I-“

“Miss Y/L/N. I have a few brief questions regarding the children, if you do not mind.” He asked as he lit some of the candles with a box of matched from the desk draws.

‘The children, not his children? For a lord he should learn how to speak correctly.’

You gripped the top of your wrapper collar with icy hands and uneasily shuffled. You just wanted to go to bed and sleep, but Henry pursued you further more even after you asked if they might continue the conversation at breakfast in the morning.

He release a wicked chuckled that bewildered you. ‘He’s mad!’

The Earl tossed a leg over one of his knees, he sat back and relaxed, “Now, now, I would prefer to keep this frank, quick and confidential between two adults…”

He turned his head away briefly before he leant forward into your face, his hot breath blew down on your cheeks and eyes as he tilted his head.

His dark eyes turned hot and frightening, he purred, “Do you fear me, Miss Y/L/N?”

As expected if not planned, You lurched back and gasped. Your cheeks heated up. The blue light of the moon shown on his profile. He looked like a painting of Lucifer you’d seen in a children’s bible. His mesmerising features were both terrifying and attractive to you.

You shook your head, trying to stand up straight and tall. You felt silly and embarrassed in yourself for being so flushed.

‘Except…Why would he ask me that? Does he want me to know my place, have I overstepped my glass standings too openly?’ you truly hadn’t meant to upset him enough to try and upset you in return.

“I don’t understand, my lord,” you nervously huffed, “I believed we were talking about Miss

Marianne and Mr Michael?”

You turned your head to the side away from his eyes that squinted and lips that frowned. He moved forward, resting his hands either side of your arms on the lounge. His body heat surrounded you, his banyan and your wrapper folded against each other. Silk against cotton brushing softly.

“S-sir, you come too close, please sit back.”

Henry leant into your ear and hissed in a threatening tone, “Perhaps you will learn to tolerate my ways in time, Miss Y/L/N, as my children learn from you.”

Now you were properly scared. Your chest heaved up and down. He might’ve just as well told you that he was going to throw you down the grand stair case. You were petrified and paralysed.

“Indeed but I beg you to remain civil, I am- I am most happy to inform you of their accomplishments.”

Henry smugly smiled and hummed, leaning away from your unprepared body. He clapped his hands lightly and licked his teeth. He was a hungry looking man, a man looking to conquer in war.

“Yes, I suppose you’re correct Governess,” he continued in his cheerier tone, “We must discuss the children, Miss Y/L/N. Please do tell me of their achievements in your lessons? Do they work hard? I want to hear your curriculum and methods of teaching since you seem to have difficulty understanding respect of your superiors.”

‘Difficulty understanding respect of my superiors?!’

You tightly swallowed and faced him. You wanted to bluntly tell him he was a terrible father and a rude man. Instead, you submissively answered every question he asked. Most questions he asked related to their French lessons, dancing, mathematics and literature.

“Où avez-vous appris à parler français?” Where did you learn to speak French? He asked suddenly in French. It caught you off guard his snap in transition to the language.

You curled your lips in and politely replied, “Mon père m’a appris” my father taught me.

He smirked and his brows raised, he slowly nodded, “Par exemple, un enseignant?” was he a teacher?

You smiled and shook your head. A small flush came to your cheeks

“Il devient marchand et propriétaire terrien.” He was a merchant and landowner, you gently explained. Your father was a travelling man and left he farm and cottage to you and your mother while he was away. And when your mother died, you took care of little Odette and father remained to work a little more in England instead of sailing off for months to India and China.

You felt your mouth grow incredibly dry and your lips numb. Your vision became spotty and the room swayed. You tried to stand to your feet and almost fell over onto him again like you had this morning.

“Je m’excuse,” you weakly slurred, “je suis fatiguée.” Excuse me, I am very tired.

You needed to go to bed. It was far too late for this meeting in the night that could wait till the morning.

Just before you could tell him any of this, your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You fell ungracefully to the floor and weakly collapsed.

The earl smiled while whispering ‘timber’ with a tiny whistle and left you to fall hard, but winced at the loud thud. Your wrapper tie became loose and fell away to reveal your scantily clad night gown.

You were still awake. Unable to move unable to understand what was happening. Why your body would not rise and why you were just so incredibly tired. The last thing you saw was the earls looming shadowing silhouette and his deep voice humming a familiar tune.

"How many miles to Babylon..." He smiled and cocked his head to the side as he watched your poor confused gaze flutter shut.

With your eyes closed and your lips parted and your arms perfectly lain above your head, he believe you were a grand depiction of a goddess offering her life to a sacrifice.

He dug into the pocket of his banyan again, while this time he pulled out a tiny vial the size of his thumb. Henry hummed the merry lullaby as he twirled it around his fingers. It was just too easy to slip it into something as milk.

"How many miles to Babylon? Three more miles and ten. Can I get there by candle-light?" He smirked, "No and ne'er again."

He believed it to be remarkable that you would fall unconscious so easily under the influence of his drug induced milk. He worried you would cease sipping after your exclamation on the sweetness.

While poor little you was trusting him to be a gentleman…but it was part of that old scally-wag Colin Fowler’s plan, sending the girl here to be his governess.

London, England 1888, Saturday 14th January. 19:03pm.

Yes, it was now time for the Earl of Jersey to return home to his estate of Radier Manor.

He buried his face into his hands and sighed, before plucking up the unopened envelope by his desk. From the side of his desk Henry ripped open a draw and collected a letter pen. Cutting the mail open, he plucked out the parchment and glued his eyes to the words that lay before him.

My dear friend Henry Dalgliesh,

It has been over a year since your dear Natalia passed and from our last meeting you had asked whether I could provide you one of my girls for your taste in desire. I wonderfully inform you that I have discovered something much more exceedingly pleasurable in the realm of succulent kittens, consider it a gift for the favour I owed you.

I have come across two young ladies from a small farm down south, they’re virgins and as pure as snow they come. Their names are Y/N and Odette Y/L/N from Bristol. Little Odette, I will be keeping under my hand for a few more years as the dear is not ripe yet only eleven or twelve I believe; the cusp of womanhood my friend, but her older sister; a true English rose is perfect for the reaping. After the misfortune of their father’s death whom was a gambling friend of mine, the girls are in a river of debt.

For every month I will expect a “payment” from Y/N to “support her sister” despite us both knowing I don’t really need anything to care for the little dear. I suggest you use the debt against her.

Do teach the girl some manners Henry, she’s polite and innocent but completely lacking in true submission. Make her cry, beg, squeal- break her, bend her, fuck her; whatever you do, don’t kill her. Henry, do not waste my gift, use her as you want and give her back when you’re finished. I have sent her your way as a governess for your children. She should be there in a week. Sincerely,

Lord C.F.

Henry sat back and proceeded to scrunch up the news into a ball of paper, casting it into the fire. He watched the flames engulf and swallow down the evidence of his ever interesting desire. He smirked and looked back up to the painting of Natalia and laughed at her face.

“I look forward to a nice new toy darling, don’t you?” Henry threw his feet up onto his desk and folded his hands behind his head, “I am sure you do, bloody harlot.” His eyes gleamed yellow as hellfire in the reflection of the burning letter.

Yes, it was now time for the Earl of Jersey to return home to his estate of Radier Manor.

Radier Manor Jersey, England 1888, Monday 9Th April. 22:28 pm.

“That worked rather well, bit too quickly for my liking though, however extremely effective,” He muttered to himself as he pocketed it back and bent onto one knee to hover above you.

His eyes travelled your the lines of your form that he was observing from the moment he discovered your shy presence around the estates home.

He slid closer, pressing his nose to your forehead to inhale the sweet scent or your hair and skin. His eyes fluttered as his lips gasped, his cock twitched. He caressed your soft cheek with his knuckled. His eyes scanning down to your entrapped bosom.

‘I wonder if she would taste better than she smells.’

With a solidary eye to the open area down through the drawing room into the dining room, he sighed and drew you closer. If anyone caught him, he would kill them. His hand softly rubbed your forehead, which cause you to react in a subtle moan.

‘Could she be as innocent as she seemed? Is this a mistake? Should I still do this?’ Henry dared ask himself. His eyes narrowed and he consi-

- Wait… Excuse me? Hello, reader, are you holding onto hope he’s gracious and kind? It’s because you think those are Henry’ thoughts don’t you? Well, I’m afraid you’re dearly mistaken. You see, it isn’t one of those stories....romance, no; here we feed on lust, blood and blackmail. Now that’s been cleared up, back to the story, where were we? He scares you, he drugs you, ah yes here we are-

Henry tucked his hands and arms beneath your fragile body and lifted you up onto his hip, his lust pressing harshly into your waist. He blew out the candle and fled. You were his prize being glided to the forbidden room, the room he considered very special indeed.....

Helplines:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers.

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline Services

India Helpline Services.

[amagnificentobsession]

It’s perfect Madam. ♥️

@baby-angelo I’ll bet you’ve seen your Nanny like this a lot at play.

New drawing !! This one if of Nanny Ashtoreth with her Louboutin high heels.

#NannyAshtoreth #Crowley #GoodOmens #GoodOmensFanarts #ineffablehusbands #アジクロ

[battyaboutbooksreviews]

Queer Books November 2023

🌈 Good afternoon, my bookish bats! Struggling to keep up with all the amazing queer books coming out this month? Here are a FEW of the stunning, diverse queer books you can add to your TBR before the year is over. Remember to #readqueerallyear! Happy reading!

❤️ The Pirate and the Porcelain Girl by Emily Riesbeck 🧡 Heading North by Holly M. Wendt 💛 The Wisdom of Bug by Alyson Root 💚 Trick Shot by Kayla Grosse 💙 A Holly Jolly Christmas by Emily Wright 💜 Outdrawn by Deanna Grey ❤️ Yours Celestially by Al Hess 🧡 The Christmas Memory by Barbara Winkes 💛 Violet Moon by Mel E. Lemon 💙 The Santa Pageant by Lillian Barry 💜 Only for the Holidays by Shannon O’Connor 🌈 Homestead for the Holidays by Wren Taylor

❤️ You Can Count on Me by Fae Quin 🧡 No One Left But You by Tash McAdam 💛 The Worst Thing of All is the Light by José Luis Serrano, Lawrence Schimel 💚 Today Tonight Forever by Madeline Kay Sneed 💙 Wren Martin Ruins It All by Amanda DeWitt 💜 Emmett by L. C. Rosen ❤️ Finding My Elf by David Valdes 🧡 Tonight, I Burn by Katharine J. Adams 💛 Gorgeous Gruesome Faces by Linda Cheng 💙 Bookshops & Bonedust by Travis Baldree 💜 A Power Unbound by Freya Marske 🌈 We Are the Crisis by Cadwell Turnbull

❤️ The Manor House Governess by C.A. Castle 🧡 You Owe Me One, Universe by Chad Lucas 💛 Last Night at the Hollywood Canteen by Sarah James 💚 Skip!: A Graphic Novel by Rebecca Burgess 💙 Something About Her by Clementine Taylor 💜 Touching the Art by Mattilda Bernstein Sycamore ❤️ A Nearby Country Called Love by Salar Abdoh 🧡 Normporn: Queer Viewers and the TV That Soothes Us by Karen Tongson 💛 Sir Callie and the Dragon’s Roost by Esme Symes-Smith 💙 The Order of the Banshee by Robyn Singer 💜 Once Upon My Dads’ Divorce by Seamus Kirst, Noémie Gionet Landry 🌈 Forsooth by Jimmy Matejek-Morris

❤️ A Common Bond by T.M. Kuta 🧡 Risk the Fall by Riley Hart 💛 Just a Little Snack by Yah-Yah Scholfield 💚 Home for the Holidays by Erin Zak 💙 NeurodiVeRse by MJ James 💜 Dark Heir (Dark Rise #2) by C.S. Pacat ❤️ sub/Dom by Rab Green 🧡 Bitten by the Bond by Elaine White 💛 Heir to Frost and Storm by Ben Alderson 💙 The Sea of Stars by Gwenhyver 💜 Bad Beat by L.M. Bennett 🌈 Idol Moves by K.T. Salvo

❤️ Plot Twist by Erin La Rosa 🧡 In the Pines by Mariah Stillbrook 💛 The Crimson Fortress (The Ivory Key #2) by Akshaya Raman 💚 Only She Came Back by Margot Harrison 💙 Megumi & Tsugumi, Vol. 4 by Mitsuru Si 💜 Pritty by Keith F. Miller Jr. ❤️ Just Lizzie by Karen Wilfrid 🧡 An Atlas to Forever by Krystina Rivers 💛 Come Find Me in the Midnight Sun by Bailey Bridgewater 💙 Bait and Witch by Clifford Mae Henderson 💜 Shadow Baron by Davinia Evans 🌈 Day by Michael Cunningham

❤️ Livingston Girls by Briana Morgan 🧡 Delay of the Game by Ari Baran 💛 The Nanny with the Nice List by K. Sterling 💚 A Talent Ignited by Suzanne Lenoir 💙 A Kiss of the Siren’s Song by E.A.M. Trofimenkoff 💜 Rivals for Love by Ali Vali ❤️ Whiskey & Wine by Kelly Fireside, Tana Fireside 🧡 Buried Secrets by Sheri Lewis Wohl 💛 Ride with Me by Jenna Jarvis 💙 Living for You by Jenny Frame 💜 Death on the Water by CJ Birch 🌈 Merciless Waters by Rae Knowles

❤️ Vicarious by Chloe Spencer 🧡 Sapling’s Depths by Spencer Rose 💛 That French Summer by Sienna Waters 💚 System Overload by Saxon James 💙 King of Death by Lily Mayne 💜 Warts and All by Ashley Bennett ❤️ Principle Decisions by Thea Belmont 🧡 The Best Mistake by Emily O’Beirne 💛 Sugar and Ice by Eule Grey 💙 Until The Blood Runs Dry by MC Johnson 💜 Splinter : A Diverse Sleepy Hollow Retelling by Jasper Hyde 🌈 The Mischievous Letters of the Marquise de Q by Felicia Davin

❤️ The Queer Girl is Going to be Okay by Dale Walls 🧡 Til Death Do Us Bard by Rose Black 💛 Leverage by E.J. Noyes 💚 Alice Sadie Celine by Sarah Blakley-Cartwright 💙 Godly Heathens by H.E. Edgmon 💜 Gwen & Art Are Not in Love by Lex Croucher ❤️ To Kill a Shadow by Katherine Quinn 🧡 Warrior of the Wind by Suyi Davies Okungbowa 💛 For Never & Always by Helena Greer 💙 A Demon’s Guide to Wooing a Witch by Sally Hawley 💜 Heaven Official’s Blessing: Tian Guan Ci Fu Vol. 8 by Mò Xiāng Tóng Xiù 🌈 A Carol for Karol by Ann Roberts

[slytherincursebreaker]

Series Ewan Mitchell

Aemond Targaryen

Aemond and Stark

The night is long (ongoing)

Warning : decapitation, assault , arson, smut and terrible hands.

Aemond volunteer to rescue Lord Stark's second eldest daughter who was supposed to be his betrothed for an alliance was kidnapped by Wildlings which was beyond the wall in order to seal the alliance between the Starks, is to rescue her, despite Heleana's ominous warning. He had no choice to leave Vhagar at Winterfell because he had a feeling bringing her was not a good idea.

Once he reach to where the wildlings are, sees it was deserted as if they just left, then was ambushed by unknown beings when his men was killed one by one leaving him alone with the white creatures. He was saved by lady Stark who manage to stab them with a makeshift weapon. He and Stark must find the way out of the icy hell back to the safety of the wall before the monsters claimed them.

Part One : the song of the endless winter

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

Part 2 : The Dance of the Dragon and the Wolf

Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24

Tom Bennett (On hold)

Tom and mermaid

The Sailor and the Mermaid (ongoing)

Warning : cannibalism, smut, abuse, obsession and terrible hands.

Tom manage to get a job as a caretaker from a freakshow owned by a poshed old ringleader in a middle of nowhere away from Manchester, just to help his sister with financial support. All he have to do was the to cleaning and fixing the Mermaid's "dressing room" the only attraction in the freak show.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Osferth

Osferth and healer reader

The Healer

Warning : decapitation ( don't worry the pretty boys heads are still intact), burning stake, blood eagle , ritualistic sacrifice, smut and terrible hands.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Michael Gavey

Michael Gavey and English Literature art Student Reader.

Divine Comedy

Warning : smut and terrible hands, horror and gore

After Michael getting cast away from his only friend for Felix Catton, He later befriended an English literature and art Student. When he was partnered her for their project. Then she told him about his former friend who was living at Saltburn Felix Catton's family estate for the summer.

She made a theory that intrigued Michael that she told him, Oliver is going to Hell and Hell is with Felix Catton's inner circle. She'll tell him about how Oliver will experience the nine circles of Catton's Hell..

Part 1 - beginning of the theory

Part 2 - first circle Limbo

Part 3 - second circle Lust

Part 4 - third circle Gluttony

Part 5 - fourth circle Greed

Part 6 -fifth circle Wrath

Part 7 - sixth circle Hersey

Part 8 - seventh circle Violence

Part 9 - eighth circle Fraud

Part 10 - Midsummer dreams in Saltburn

Part 11 - the red death

Part 12 the sins of the father

Part 13 the love affair of the Governess

Part 14 - ninth circle Treachery

Part 15 - Center of Hell

Epilogue - Paradise?

Billy Washington

Billy and Best friend Reader

One Day

Warning : smut and terrible hands, and racism

After getting killed by a truck, she had woken up in the past before the tragedies. She was given a second chance of life and a chance to save her dear friend Billy from a mistake that would cost him, his life.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22

Tagged @arcielee @multyfangirl @lya-dustin @lynnbeth5172 @bellaisasleep @transparent-dreamer-kingdom @humanpurposes @youraverageaemondsimp

@cyeco13 @fan-goddess @boofy1998 @zae5 @magnificentsapphiresoul @aemonds-holy-milk @venmondiese @anukulee @ladythornofrivia

[mydaddywiki]

Tom Wilkinson

Physique: Average Build Height: 6'1" (1.85 m)

Thomas Geoffrey Wilkinson OBE (5 February 1948 – 30 December 2023) was an English actor. Over his career he received numerous accolades including a BAFTA Award, a Golden Globe Award, and a Primetime Emmy Award as well as nominations for two Academy Awards and a Laurence Olivier Award. In 2005, he was appointed Officer of the Order of the British Empire (OBE). He gained notoriety as a character actor acting in numerous films such as The Full Monty, In the Bedroom, Michael Clayton, Shakespeare in Love, The Patriot, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and Batman Begins.

Tom was an extremely handsome man with a surprisingly nicely-built, masculine body and a pretty nice, round, firm ass. A very quiet spoken, gentle man in interviews. He reminds me of a panda bear. Very soft and gentle looking. Sweet. Almost too innocent and cute looking to make sexual comments about. Almost.

Wilkinson was married to actress Diana Hardcastle and together they had two daughters. Wilkinson died suddenly at his home on 30 December 2023, at the age of 75.

RECOMMENDATIONS: Separate Lies (2005) - Shirtless Normal (2003) - Shirtless In the Bedroom (2001) - Shirtless Essex Boys (2000) - Shirtless The Governess (1998) - Shirtless, full frontal The Full Monty (1997) - Shirtless, rear nudity First Among Equals (TV Mini Series 1986) - Shirtless

[txttletale]

I know I sound dumb but this is a real question. I know some other people from my country (Canada) were supposedly arrested in China without cause and I’ve always thought I would avoid visiting because the government is too dangerous. Was that really all propaganda I fell for or is there truth to it?

the two michaels, who i assume you're thinking of, were 1. credibly charged with espionage (they both had ties, whether personal or financial, to NATO government officials) and 2. were arrested in clear retaliation / hostage-taking for the canadian arrest of huawei cfo meng wanzhou.

as long as you don't either a) spy on the chinese government or at least b) have a job where you could be credibly accused of spying on the chinese goverment for political purposes (one michael worked for a NATO-funded think tank, the other operated a north korean tour agency) and are not also c) in the country at the time of of an international extradition incident involving your home country you are only as likely to be arbitrarily arrested in china as you are in any other country

tldr: you're fine you as a tourist are in no more danger from the chinese government than you are from any other government

[fideidefenswhore]

how was john ashley related to elizabeth? she called him kinsman but afaik they weren't blood relations? something like james boleyn's wife's relative? also, is he the john ashley asked about margaret douglas in july 1536? i found it interesting they waited for "lady boleyn" to leave. i'm guessing that's james's wife? bc anne didn't like her as i understand (idk why?) but not enough she wasn't allowed at court and let her be close to anne's crowd if not in it. i just find it interesting she didn't like anne and spied on her but elizabeth took her relatives as her own when she didn't need to

"From its inception, Elizabeth's household employed many of the princess' maternal kin. The first to serve as steward was Sir John Shelton; his wife Lady Anne—the paternal aunt of Anne Boleyn—was also employed in the household as the chief gentlewoman of the Privy Chamber. Elizabeth's first governess, Margaret Bryan, was distantly related to the Boleyns (being the half-sister of Anne Boleyn's mother). John Ashley, a Boleyn relative by the marriage of an aunt, joined the household sometime before 1540. Weak as these blood ties might seem to the modern reader, they weighed seriously with Elizabeth herself; for example, when John Ashley was arrested during the Seymour crisis of 1549, the princess interceded on his behalf, asking that he be released "for he is my kinsman"—even though his relation to her consisted of nothing more substantial than the marriage of his maternal aunt to the brother of Elizabeth's maternal grandfather [...]"

+

"Astley was also referred to as Ashley. John Astley's mother was Anne Wood, whose sister, Elizabeth, married James Boleyn. This made James [by blood] and Elizabeth [by marriage] the aunt and uncle of Anne Boleyn."

+

"But Anne could not just choose friends and allies as her ‘ladies of presence’, because Henry allowed several career courtiers to transfer from Katherine’s service. Lady Elizabeth Boleyn, Sir James’s wife, had always gravitated towards Katherine, as did Lady Mary Kingston, the Constable of the Tower’s wife, and Margaret Coffyn, the wife of Anne’s Master of the Horse. Lady Jane Calthorpe, although also linked by kinship ties to Anne, had done a five-year stint as Princess Mary’s governess. Jane Ashley, one of Katherine’s maids, served Anne and Jane Seymour before marrying Sir Peter Mewtas. Another, Margery Horsman, whom Holbein represents as slim and demure, stayed at court until 1537, when Sir Michael Lyster took her as his second wife." Hunting the Falcon: Henry VIII, Anne Boleyn & the Marriage That Shook Europe, John Guy & Julia Fox

[neuroses]

sending out yet another 1x1 discord rp call (21+) — as someone who has literally only read one sarah j. maas book i don’t have the right to be so obsessed with period/fantasy/royal plots and yet here we are … !

if you’re into soap opera level twists and storylines and doing a ridiculous amount of world building and me sending dms at odd hours of the day, please check out these three semi-fleshed out plots under the cut that i’d love to explore :’)

a romance between a leader of an underground rebellion and the prince/princess: muse a is a high ranking guard at the palace and has been assigned to watch over muse b, but muse a is actually working as a mole for an underground rebellion against muse b’s corrupt parents ! think slow burning and yearning and muse a having complicated feelings about how different muse b’s life is from theirs, muse b coming to grips with how sheltered they’ve been their entire life, maybe muse b gets thrown into an arranged marriage and that’s a whole other plot line we have them navigate … so much potential i would lose mind if you gave me this plot quite frankly !

a second-born prince/princess hiding from their family in a sleepy little village: muse a is a slightly spoiled royal who’s upset with how controlling their family has become as they’ve gotten older—so one night they run away to a small village in a neighbouring town to stay with their old governess and get away from how suffocating the court is and stay somewhere where nobody really knows who they are and they meet the governess’ child, muse b (who might be a baker, a librarian, any profession that could plausibly be one of the villagers in beauty and the beast) who’s initially put off by muse … but they end up falling in love but there’s sm drama because muse b still doesn’t know muse a is royalty, the king and queen are looking for muse a omg do you see the vision …

the classic pirate kidnaps the prince/princess: muse a is a notorious pirate who accidentally targets a royal ship that muse b happens to be on ! muse a is honestly very annoyed that they’ve taken on a captive because they think they’re much more work than they’re worth and it’s not really their crew’s mo to have captives at all, muse b is meanwhile delighted because they’ve grown up so sheltered and have been a goody two-shoes all their life and this is the first time they’re ever seeing the world ! muse a is a notorious rake and class a-asshole but they become so protective over muse b, muse b cleaning muse a’s wounds … i’m frankly screaming

ps. we could have it so the second and third plots are mixed together so the royal sneaks onto the pirate ship to travel the world !

like, dm, send a carrier pigeon, etc. if you’re interested in any of these ! i typically write m/f and f/f, bonus points if you let me write aaron taylor-johnson, tommy martinez, michael evans-belling, sam claflin and/or you write sofia boutella, adeline rudolph, alisha boe, sydney park <3