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flaneur001 · 5 months ago

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14 Days with you Royal Au (ongoing series) [Pairings- Enemy Duke! Redacted x GN Reader]

[Word count- 3172] [CW- Angst, Smut, Knife play] [A/N- Previously posted in the 14dwy discord server. Redacted belongs to @14dayswithyou]

[part 1] [part 2]

Part 2: The Evasive Enemy

You sat picturesquely at the ornate oak desk, absentmindedly twirling the quill in your hand as you stared blankly at the parchment resting before you.

‘Whatever will I write?’ You mused silently as you dipped the tip of the quill in the open ink pot and scribbled the first words that came to your mind after an hour-long of dilly-dallying.

The dimly lit marital chamber was quiet save for the occasional scritch-scratch of your quill.

Dearest Father, I am in good health. I know you have been worried about my prolonged silence to your lettered inquiries. But I find myself at a loss for words at the way I have been so utterly taken care of here. We were mistaken to assume that he would fall for such baser fancies. A week has passed by and he has not visited since. Never laid a finger upon me. Always quiet and busy with his own devices. I am at a crossroads. The azure-eyed Duke seems even more mysterious now that I live under the same roof as him. Father, I have been granted permission to peruse his archives, without any surveillance. This seems suspicious, almost like a well-set trap. Though he is yet to show any animosity towards me. But I would be foolish to look a gift horse in the mouth. Keep your worries at bay father. I shall always keep myself and my safety first. I have received the information about the article through your trusted aide, and I will bide my time until it's safe to infiltrate his study. Until then, take Care. I will keep you informed.

Sealing the letter and putting it in the drawer, you stretched languidly and gently pushed the chair back. Your long robe billowed behind you as you trudged towards your four-poster bed and plopped upon the welcoming plushness of the pillows. Unbidden your face lolled to the side and your eyes landed upon the golden ring that rested atop the pillow on his side of the bed. The ring that he had left behind for you. It was the only evidence that he had actually been here. In flesh.

The whole week, you were treated to rich meals, dressed in the finest of silks and jewelry, yet amidst all the niceties something constantly felt amiss. At first, you brushed it off to mere homesickness, but as time passed a cruel understanding dawned upon you.

On those rare occasions when you caught glimpses of the Handsome Duke walking in the hallways, you felt this forlornness tug at your heart. Even back at your family residence, although you were loved, the brunt of all the responsibilities fell upon your shoulders after your mother’s death. You were always expected to be the guardian and the responsible oldest child for the five of your younger siblings.

So gentleness and affection were seldom directed towards you. Hence when the Duke showered you with so much tenderness that first night, in his warm embrace you felt like you belonged. Like you had finally found a tether for your wandering soul. His cold gaze slowly travelling the length of your body like a hidden caress, still lingered fresh in your mind and you felt guilt simmer in the back of your throat.

You were not here for this. Your life was far from normal and he was the reason why your great noble house had perished. Yet you simply couldn’t will yourself to forget the touch of his hands, the graze of his warm lips on the sensitive spot on your neck, or the way he hugged you when you slept. You hated to admit it, but you were downhearted to find yourself alone the morning after. The whole estate was abuzz with the news of the Duke consummating his marriage with the oldest child of the rival clan.

You were not a fool, nor were you naive enough to avoid the snarky gossip that always bubbled under the pretense of politeness in your presence.

“His Grace has not visited them after the first night…”

“Maybe he was not satisfied?”, the servants chortled as they flitted about your room while cleaning or serving you meals.

You let them babble because your target was something else entirely. The Duke had something in his possession. Something that linked him to the murder of your mother and the conspiracy that destroyed the reputation of your house. Your initial plan was to seduce him and distract him enough that he began trusting you to let his guard down. Yet here you were, trapped in a golden confinement, with every treasure in the world laid at your feet. He even went ahead and granted you access to his archives and his office, without even batting an eye. This gnawed at your mind and slowly chewed you up on the inside.

‘Does he not care?’ You wondered.

You were named, ‘The prized possession’ by the people in the estate. Compared and downgraded to the several expensive objects that the Duke won and then instantly got bored with. Lay in some deep recesses of the estate gathering dust and forgotten. They said that you will soon be treated like that. And somehow this line of thought added to your insecurities.

“Or Maybe I’m not as important as I thought myself to be…” you murmured, suddenly regretting not putting in more effort that night. Regretting not begging him to stay.

A flurry of activity and noises caught your attention breaking this downhill stream of thoughts. Rising fluidly you walked towards the bay window and nudged it open checking for yourself what all the ruckus was about. The young maids giggled and chattered under your window, pointing towards the practice grounds for soldiers.

“Look, the Duke is out sparring today” The ladies squealed and peeked from behind a bush. Your interest piqued, you walked towards your balcony and leaned on the vine-covered railing to get a proper view. Surely enough, the young duke was in an intense sparring match. He was wearing black leather pants with high boots, his torso left completely exposed for all to see. You gulped unconsciously, eyes traitorously following the way his muscles rippled when he threw, blow after expert blow with his war sledgehammer. His long black hair swished around and beads of sweat rolled down his pale skin making you shiver involuntarily, at the way your degenerate mind imagined him sweaty and panting atop you in bed.

Before you could make a hasty exit, the Duke’s eyes flitted to the balcony as if sensing your presence and his mouth lifted in a half smirk like he somehow knew what was going through your mind. Blood rushed to your face and you quickly ducked inside.

Evening fell. You were bathed and dressed by the chambermaid Iansa. She was very sweet and you two had bonded over this last week, getting familiar with each other through the little interesting anecdotes she shared about the Duke’s estate.

As she took your leave, you began your daily routine. Sitting half-dressed in the center of the bed like some common whore waiting for the Duke to visit. Only that he took much pleasure in keeping you on your toes and never visiting.

A beat of silence passed. The oil lamps lining the walls flickered. Until the last shred of your patience cracked and you rose from your bed. Putting on the lush slippers you pushed open the giant double doors and walked outside into the cold and empty hallways of the Duke’s mansion. You marched towards the Duke’s office throwing all caution to the wind.

“This is enough, I’m done waiting” you mumble as you neared the entrance to the office. Slowly, you entered inside finding it absurd that nobody was guarding the entrance to this room. You smirked to yourself, reveling at the idea of seeing the surprised expression on the Duke’s face once he realized how you, whom he thought so insignificant, was the one responsible for putting him in his rightful place. The tyrant deserved nothing but to rot in a prison. Strangely enough, the thought of getting revenge helped keep this gnawing urge to kiss the smirk off of his smug face at bay.

“Serves him well for treating me like a plaything” you mutter under your breath as you eagerly work through the rows and rows of documents filed neatly for your tampering. A chilly air from the open window, nipped at your exposed skin, the scant lace outfit not providing much to shield you from the cold temperatures. You suppressed a shiver as you grabbed a few files and took them to the window to get a better look at, under the moonlight pouring in through the glass window.

As you skimmed through the documents, a warm hand snaked around your waist, spinning you. Surprised, you were about to let a scream fall from your lips when another hand pressed tightly on your mouth, muffling it effectively.

“Shhh Angel, we don’t want to alert the guards now, do we?” A husky voice asked. Moving from the shadows, the moonlight bathing his figure, Duke Ren smiled down triumphantly at you, like a predator who had just caught his prey.

Slowly, he released his grip on your mouth only to rest both his hands behind you on the desk effortlessly trapping you between his arms. His face inched closer as his ice-blue eyes burned into yours, “So you finally grew weary of waiting, I assume” he purred. His deep baritone made you think of unspeakable things.

You clenched your teeth, staring back at him defiantly, “Why ask me to wait if you were never going to visit” you hissed, mulish and miffed.

His eyes widened by a fraction, warm chuckle spilling through his cherry-tinted lips, bringing your attention to them.

“Why, Angel such…temper” he tsked, “One would think you missed me.” His hand shot out, trailing a slender finger on your temple, down your cheek, only to come to rest at your chin. His calloused hand cupped your jaw, bringing his thumb to your mouth to trace the shape of your lips.

Your breath hitched in your throat, as he rubbed the pad of his thumb across the seam of your lips, pushing and prodding until it entered your mouth. His thumb moved around, exploring the warm wetness, as his face came impossibly closer to yours, “Let me in, Angel” he breathed.

And you don’t know if it was the curiosity or the way his eyes held your gaze so enticingly, that made you want to obey everything that fell from those lips. Closing your eyes you opened your mouth wider, wide enough for him to push three fingers in, pumping them in and out as your greedy tongue lapped against them. Unbidden a moan escaped you, and his other hand grabbed your hip, fingers digging into your flesh as he roughly pulled you closer to his body, thrusting your cores together.

“Look at me love” he whispered in your ear, nipping the shell playfully before his mouth descended to your neck, to leave open-mouthed kisses.

You groaned and opened your eyes, breath already coming out in shallow pants.

“For someone who claims to hate me, you sure love me touching you. You like to think of such debauched fancies don't you?” he snickered with roguish pride, “Driving you wild. Taking you to the depraved depths and back…defiling you” he spoke hotly in your ear, his erection tenting temptingly in his leather pants.

“Please” you begged, not knowing if you wanted him to release or ravish you.

“Please what Angel?” He challenged smirking cruelly as he, all too soon, removed himself from you, and folded his arms across his chest, regarding you with thinly veiled amusement.

A wild blush rose to your cheeks. He waited in silence as if he expected you to actually utter the vulgar words. Your chest still heaved, body warmed up with his skillful ministrations. And suddenly your mind painted an image of him in bed with other people. Jealousy like never before threatened to take over you.

‘How is he so skilled? Has he been going to others every night?’ You mused darkly.

“Let me go” you whimpered, angry tears pricked your eyes half from humiliation and half from longing. Pulling the lace robe tighter to cover your modesty you whispered, “I do not belong here” carefully avoiding his eyes.

“Hm, I see” he began, as he leaned down, slowly sliding a dagger out from his leather boot. He balanced the blade on his fingers as he almost toyed with the weapon.

“You are right about one thing, Angel”, he drawled, as he stepped into the moonlight giving you a good view of the dagger in his grasp. Its silver blade glinted sinisterly in the dark, bejeweled hilt looking magnificent, fit for a person of his stature.

His blue eyes flit to yours silently daring you to break eye contact, “you don’t belong in this room” he murmured, pointedly staring at the scattered documents around you.

“Bu-but you gave me access to your archives without surveillance” you sputtered, licking your lips as you felt cornered by his unrelenting gaze. A quiet dread filled your guts.

He tilted his head, regarding you with an inscrutable expression, and you took him in for the first time this evening. He was wearing all black like always. A silk shirt with the laces half done that exposed his broad chest. Tight high-waisted bottoms that accentuated his shapely midsection. His long black hair was loosely tied in a plait, making him look like a vision.

But something about the way his sapphire eyes glimmering with that melancholic look, made him appear vulnerable in this moment.

A beat of silence passed, and he waited, the air simmering with the heavy tension between you both, as he looked at you with hopeful anticipation. For what, you didn’t know.

Slowly, tentatively he walked, closing the distance between you both again.

“Angel” he breathed. And somehow that one single word broke you. For it was spoken with such disappointment and fragility you never expected from this tyrannical Duke.

“I gave you access to my archives because I trusted you.” He ground, “I went against my advisers, against the whole estate, vouching for you, marrying you. Why do you think there was no guard stationed outside this room?” With each uttered word he stepped closer until you both were hairsbreadth apart.

“So tell me, was it all for naught?” He stressed, and the accusation stung like he had slapped you.

But you couldn’t lie to him. Not when you have been so perpetually lying to yourself.

“This was a marriage of convenience between our households and nothing more, your grace” you replied curtly, ignoring the way his grip tightened around the dagger or the way his gaze darkened at your blatant aloofness. But you pressed on, delivering the final blow you knew would break him.

“You were and will continue to be nothing to me”

A snarl escaped his lips, and he was on you in an instant. You could feel the cold metal of the dagger pressing against your neck as he hissed, “Go. Take it all away. Whatever you were here searching for, take it. But do not lie to me Angel” his voice cracked, gaze softened, eyes searching your face desperately.

“Not when the longing in your eyes so plainly mirrors the longing in my heart”

Maybe it was the way the dagger pressed into your throat, a slice away from stealing your life, or maybe it was the way your face reflected in his ocean-blues, as if you were the only thing his eyes saw, that you yanked him close, pulling his mouth to yours in a needy kiss.

A low groan escaped him, sending a shiver down your spine. His hot tongue slipped into your mouth roughly entangling with yours in a sensual dance.

You arched into him. The metal of the dagger sandwiched between your throats, pricking your skins, was an ironic symbol of the enmity and the dark lust that often surrounded you both.

Every caution, every coherence fled your mind when his other hand raked through your hair, angling you into a deeper kiss. As the scant distance between you diminished, the blade broke your skin, sending you into a frenzy of pain and pleasure.

The heady aroma of mint and cherries invaded all your senses, mingled with the scent that was uniquely his. You were drunk off of him, intoxicated and utterly lost in depravity.

But when his teeth clamped down on your bottom lip, a whine reverberated deep in your chest and your hips involuntarily bucked forward, rubbing into his engorged arousal. He groaned and your eyes snapped open at the loss when he stepped back and moved the dagger away from your throat.

Your mouth involuntarily chased his, earning a soft chuckle from the man.

Catching you by surprise, he suddenly dropped to his knees. He grabbed your wrist, placing the dagger in your open palm, as he stared up at you.

“I am at your mercy now, beloved” he whispered, hands coming to rest at your thighs as he blinked at you, azure eyes glinting like precious gems in the dark.

“So slice my throat and reduce me to nothingness. But do it while you hold my gaze. For that’s the sight I want to remember when I die” he spoke with a rueful smile upon his face and a fierce anger bubbled inside you at the sight.

You were angry at the way he toyed with your emotions, angry at the way you were lusting after a man who was responsible for your family’s destruction. Angry…at the way you were falling for him.

‘Why did you have to meet me like this?’ was the last thought that flashed in your mind as you flung the dagger across the room vehemently, shattering the ornate mirror adorning the wall.

You gave him one last searing look before marching to the door, not wanting him to see the lone tear that had rolled down your cheek.

The moment your hand reached for the handle, his slender fingers wrapped around your wrist spinning you around, as he pulled you flush to his chest.

A hand cupped your cheek as he leaned in kissing the tears that fell traitorously from your eyes. He didn't say anything. He didn't need to. He simply rocked you in his embrace peppering kisses on every inch of your face.

Then his head ducked down, languidly licking the little wound left behind by his dagger. His own neck held the same marks as yours.Just when you thought he was done, he tilted your chin making you face him fully as he whispered against your mouth, “Poor choice to keep me alive. Now I shall remind you every passing second of the day, that you are mine” he purred, “Mine to love and mine to ruin”

#ashewrites📝#my words💜#flâneur✨#14dwy redacted #14dwy #14 days with you ren #14 days with you #soft yandere #yandere male #yandere vn #gender neautral reader #14dwy redacted x reader #royalty au #royal au #enemies to lovers

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weirdly-specific-but-ok · 1 year ago

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pt II our flag means death but I've never watched it

HELLO OFMD FANDOM! It's the Good Omens Mascot and Resident Dumbass, back again for part II. First, let's clear the air of all controversy!

Some of you lovely maggots were kind enough to warn me about certain discourse about a salad spoon and also about a certain gentleman named Izzy. I was warned not to make assumptions and not to take sides, and I hear some members had to leave the fandom for a while because it got toxic. Maggots. All the rest of you. Worry not about me. I'm here to unite the OFMD fandom! How, you ask? By being so undeniably stupid in my own opinions that you all will have to unite to disagree with me. You underestimate the power of my dumbassery. Well, let's not dilly dally and dawdle, here's the updated summary:

I have been informed there is cannibalism on this ship but it is not real. Someone pretends to eat someone and then their wife helps them fake their death while they run away from the ship though their lover wanted them to run to China.

There are BDSM lesbians, which is honestly such a slay, Pinterest has let me down by not informing me of that when I made Part I. I will no longer be using Pinterest a reliable source in future academic essays.

Mermaid Stede performs necromancy while a song called Kate Bush plays (I don't know who this is, a politician? Idk whether of US or UK).

Gravy Basket is a destination and Buttons is a sea witch and there is educational stabbing. Buttons is then a bird because of the BDSM lesbians.

There is a lady who is extremely beautiful and intimidating and powerful and she has twenty husbands and I assumed incorrectly that you were all talking about a Jack Russel terrier.

Let's start with the controversy! Izzy. Secondary protagonist or antagonist? Good or bad? Kindly father figure or homoerotically charged friend? Necessary death or not? No no no. Behold:

I present a new question, a hot take sizzling from the pan: Did Izzy really exist?

Personally, I firmly believe that no, he did not. I believe that the rum on the ship was spiked with hallucinogens.

Izzy was simply the manifestation of Ed's Freudian subconscious, taking the shape of a human being, vaguely resembling a humanoid potato Ed was forced to boil as a kid. I was a psychology student with a final grade of 99% and I accept only destructive criticism on my posts thank you. Feel free to discuss whether he boiled the potato in a fit of rage or whether he was forced to.

There are assorted Ned's, Mary's and an uncertain number of Jeff's on ship.

One of the Jeff's is an accountant, and there is a nonbinary talking sword named Jim. Actually I'm not sure if they talk.

Love you all, rooting for the show to be renewed.

REMINDERS. Be polite to each other in the reblogs, on tumblr reblogs spread posts and not likes (which don't do anything for visibility) unlike other social media sites, but MOST IMPORTANTLY.

I ACCEPT ONLY DESTRUCTIVE CRITICISM, THIS BLOG IS A GODLESS, LAWLESS LAND, AND ALL RAGE AT EACH OTHER MUST BE REDIRECTED AT ME. UNDERSTOOD? YAY.

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manamania · 8 months ago

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Untouched: Part Two

Pastor Lemuel Childs x OC

Synopsis: Pastor Childs has been lost this past year after what his family and the parish went through. But when a young woman comes into town, aimless and without guidance, the Pastor takes it upon himself to be her shepherd, and lead her out of the darkness... And into his arms.

Warnings: older man x young woman, religious exploitation (kinda), religious trauma, eventual smut, angst, OC is a virgin, Pastor Childs is not a great person but he sure is hot as hell, I apologize for any spelling errors

@justme12200 @its-in-the-woods @hiddlebatchedloki

Word count: 5.5k

Lemuel hung back after the service, thanking everyone for coming and catching up with some parishioners while Virginia waited outside the church. She was still reeling from the emotions that had flowed through her during the service. It was a rush unlike anything else and Lemuel was there at the center of it all, guiding her through the motions with a steady hand.

“Alright, let’s close ‘er up.” Lemuel appeared at the exit with Hank and a girl no older than eighteen with long brown hair and dressed in a puffy coat. She slid the church door shut and locked it. “G’night Hank, see ya ‘round.” The two men shook hands and Hank bid the other three goodnight.

Virginia was lost in thought when Lemuel touched her elbow, bringing her back into reality. “You alright there?”

“That was an incredible service, Pastor.” Virginia said.

Lemuel smiled proudly, looking down at the muddy ground beneath him. Was he blushing? “Well, thank you, Miss Godwin. Before we head home, I wanted you to meet Dilly.”

“It’s nice to see a fresh face at service.” The young girl said with a polite smile. “You’re new to town?”

Was this girl Lemuel’s daughter? She was young enough but it was strange that Lemuel hadn’t mentioned her already.

“Yes, Joshua Godwin was my uncle. I inherited his house and your pastor was kind enough to invite me to your church.” Virginia said, extending her hand out to Dilly, who bashfully took it and shook it. “Call me Virginia.”

“Alright, Virginia.” Dilly repeated, looking between the newcomer and her pastor. “Well, we best get home for dinner. I prepared chicken.”

“I told Dilly you was joining us for dinner. She’s spoiling you.” Lemuel said before the trio made their way to his truck.

Dilly rode between Lemuel and Virginia, awkward and quiet. She seemed nice enough, but there was something that put the girl on edge. Virginia wondered if it was her presence, maybe it was Lemuel, who seemed to put off other members of the community. She still didn’t know the relationship between Dilly and Lemuel. Father and daughter or husband and… Really young wife? Virginia had met couples with extreme age differences when they belonged to remote churches.

They arrived in under five minutes, pulling up to a house in a clearing. Inside, it was rather normal-looking. It had all the comforts of home, was well lived-in, and neat. Dilly excused herself to the kitchen quickly, leaving Lemuel and Virginia alone in the living room.

“I’m real pleased you enjoyed the service, Miss Godwin.” He said, taking a seat on his armchair while Virginia took the couch.

“I had never felt so close to… I don’t know, it was as if God’s arms were lifting me up.”

“You felt the presence of the Holy Ghost.” Lemuel said. “He’s always there, you just need to look for him and let him in. You let him in.”

“I did.” Virginia smiled. “The others really respond to you well.”

“It ain’t about me, though.” Lemuel affirmed. “It’s about the Lord and their relationship with him. I only guide those who seek guidance.”

A stranger in a new place, far from home and without any family to go to, all Virginia wanted was some guidance. And ever since he had come to her rescue that night on the road, it seemed that the Lord was telling Lemuel that he was meant to guide her to him, into his parish and at his table. A lost sheep in need of a shepherd.

Lemuel hadn’t forgotten her when he preached to the congregation. He saw her as she raised her arms up, praising Jesus’ name and welcoming him into her heart. She had gripped at her own chest, hand over her heart while she whispered her praises. He couldn’t deny, she looked so beautiful in the dim light of the church. So alive. So vibrant.

“She your daughter?” Virginia asked.

She hadn’t noticed any photographs of Dilly anywhere in the house. In fact, there were barely any picture frames, just crosses, clocks, and paintings. Nothing that indicated family.

Lemuel sighed, leaning over with his elbows resting on his knees. Virginia didn’t know she had asked a touchy question, but he understood why she assumed as such.

“She’s my ward. Her mama ran out on her ‘bout a year ago. She was alone for a month before I took her in.” Lemuel said. “Her mama don’t know what she left behind.”

“Poor thing.” Virginia frowned.

The more Virginia learned about Lemuel, the more fascinating he became. He was a generous man who took those who needed help under his wing. He was also brave, or stupid, enough to handle poisonous snakes on the regular and firmly believed in God’s will. He was tough as much as he was tender. Much like God’s love, Lemuel instilled both hope and fear within Virginia.

“Tell me about your family.” Lemuel said, changing the subject. “You close with your folks?”

“Haven’t spoken to my folks in years, not even at uncle Joshua’s funeral.” She said, leaning back against the couch. “My father left my mother when I was ‘bout five, and she, well, she was a God-fearing woman. Ain’t nothing wrong with that, but she…”

Lemuel listened closely, watching as Virginia’s face furrowed then rested then furrowed again.

“My mother had her own ways of expressing faith.” Virginia spoke slowly, taking care with how she revealed her past to the pastor. “It often resulted in physical correction.”

“Your mama beat you.” Lemuel said plainly.

Virginia’s mouth tightened into a straight line. She nodded, breathing in heavily through her nose. Suddenly, the room was hot. Virginia’s struggle with finding her faith was made all the more clearer to the pastor. He didn’t blame her for her aimless wandering, especially now after learning of her history.

Lemuel himself believed in correcting children, but to strike a child often enough to instill a fear far greater than love wasn’t Christ-like. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

Virginia sniffled, fighting back the tears. She didn’t want to cry, especially not now in Lemuel’s home. She hated crying in front of people, especially those she barely knew longer than a day.

“I used to think that whenever she swung her Bible at me, the scripture would knock itself into my skin.” She admitted. “Mother said everything that happened was the Lord’s will. So, if she was hitting me, it was because God wanted me to be hit.”

“Your mama forgot that man was given free will and that our actions are sometimes just our own.” Lemuel commented. “No child deserves to live in fear of their mama.”

Virginia was surprised by the pastor’s words. Most religious types, especially ones as serious as Lemuel, were quick to excuse such behavior. Claiming that her abuse was meant to strengthen her, test her faith, and make her a stronger believer. Lemuel validating her frustration against her mother lifted her spirit all the more.

“Mothers…” Virginia chuckled, making Lemuel smile. “Anyways, I ain’t spoken with her since I was eighteen. She didn’t wanna talk to me anymore.”

“Blood’s meant to be with blood.” Lemuel said. “But given she chose to abandon you, just like Dilly’s mama, you’re now destined to search for your own kin. That’s a hard road to journey down.”

Virginia didn’t know what family meant anymore. It was a strange, foreign word to her. Was it an affectionate term that implied anyone who stuck together was a unit? Or was it simply biological? Was it both?

“I would like to belong somewhere, Pastor.” She confessed softly, looking down at her hands which were folded in her lap. “I’d like to find my own tribe.”

Lemuel felt moved enough to stand from his chair and go to Virginia. He knelt down in front of her and took her hands in his, looking up at the sad, lonely woman. She stared back at him, waiting for something to happen.

“God has brought you to us, Virginia Godwin. It was by his hand that you were delivered to this mountain and into our lives.” He told her, squeezing her hands.

“Pastor…” She breathed, looking into his hazel eyes.

She believed that was to be her lot in life, to be lonely and without a family. Virginia had accepted her uncle’s house without question because at least it meant a step in any direction away from where she was before. And now, she was in Lemuel’s home, with him on his knees, asking her, no, telling her that she should stay because she belonged.

Virginia could’ve sworn his eyes drifted down for a second.

“I want to belong.” She whispered, rogue tears streaming down her cheeks. The pastor wiped them away with the pad of his thumb, making Virginia freeze from the intimate touch.

“A lost sheep in need of a shepherd.” He told her with a sad smile.

If Virginia had given into herself, let her heart pull her forward and into Lemuel, she would’ve kissed him. But she didn’t. She just let him hold her hands and look at her.

He brought her to the dinner table where Dilly served them chicken and sweet potatoes, ignorant of the change between them. The trio joined hands and Lemuel said grace. During dinner, Dilly filled the silence by speaking of her excitement for graduating high school, the first in her family to get a diploma of any kind. Lemuel said some words of encouragement every so often, as did Virginia, but in truth, the pair was thinking about Virginia’s future.

She had a choice to make. Virginia very much wanted to belong somewhere, and with Lemuel voicing so much faith in her, it was hard to consider the alternative. But then came the question that plagued Virginia when she went home and lay awake in bed. Would she be choosing to become a Pentecostal because she was a genuine believer in their ways of worship? Or did she just not want to be alone anymore?

Or maybe it was simply Lemuel.

The next morning, Virginia went grocery shopping at the local market, saying hello to familiar faces that she had met the previous night at worship. Not too long ago, she was a mere stranger not worth saying anything more than “good morning” or “my condolences” to. Now, she was a welcomed woman. Virginia learned that morning that Lemuel’s approval of her held weight with the parishioners.

Only two days in town and Virginia was already in so deep. She began to worry that there wasn’t a decision to be made after all but acceptance of the inevitable. That she was destined to become one of them just as Lemuel said the previous night.

I want to belong, Lemuel.

The next few days were spent sprucing up the house, making it seem like an actual human being lived in it. She put up paintings, bought a coffee table, and even found a cute vintage tea set at the antique store for her dining table. Virginia hoped that by being away from Lemuel and having more time to settle by herself, she would feel more decisive about what to do.

As lonely as she felt, Virginia wasn’t entirely afraid of being alone. She enjoyed having her own space and freedom. But it made her all the more hungry for attention once a little was given to her.

As she knelt by her bedside and prayed, her thoughts drifted back to the service.

“I’m still lost, Lord. I still feel like I’m wandering ‘round in the dark. I want to feel your presence the same way the others in this town do. And yet something’s keeping me from fully accepting their ways.” Virginia pondered, leaning her head against her neatly folded hands. “I know I have no right to ask you of anything when my resolve has been weak. But please, Lord, help me decide what to do. Give me the strength to find out what it is I’m meant to live for.”

...

“Have you given some thought to our last conversation?”

Lemuel walked beside Virginia along the river bank. She was bundled up, her nose and cheeks rosy from the nipping cold. He wanted to show her where the congregation occasionally went when the service took place outdoors. There were logs and carved crosses in a small clearing underneath a canopy by the water, a beautiful place to preach.

“I’ve prayed on it.” She said,

“Was starting to think you was avoiding me.” Lemuel confessed with a sheepish smile. “Thought maybe I scared you off.”

“You don’t scare me.” Virginia lied. In truth, Lemuel terrified her from how much power he held in his words. It made him all the more appealing to her, and incredibly dangerous. “Just wanted to look for answers on my own.”

“You’ve been looking on your own for years now, Miss Godwin.” Lemuel said. An honest statement, yet it stung Virginia. “Did you find what you was searching for?”

Virginia stopped in her tracks and looked down at her boots. Lemuel stopped beside her, waiting. “I think, what I believe…” She suddenly found herself incredibly shy. Virginia couldn’t even look up at the pastor. “I find it hard to say.”

Lemuel stepped closer, placing his hand on her shoulder. “I found you, Miss Godwin.” He said with a smile. “In the dark on the side of the road. God was guiding you to my hand so I could pull you out of the dark. I think that means something.”

Again, Lemuel was seducing her. He didn’t know what kind of an influence he had over Virginia. They barely knew each other, only had met less than a week ago, and yet there was a gravitational pull between them.

He wanted to guide and Virginia wanted to be guided.

“Lemuel… This is all so fast for me. I mean, I don’t know how things are done here.” Virginia said, finally looking up at him. “I’m not sure if I’m so deservin of what I want.”

“There are ways to tell if you are, Miss Godwin.” Lemuel said, reassuringly. “Let me take you to the church. Prove yourself to our Lord and then be baptized.”

Virginia’s heart sank into her stomach. She knew what he was implying. In his church, to prove one’s self was to face the serpent and pray that you’d be spared.

We respect them but we do not cower before them.

“If your intentions are pure, Christ will know and spare you from the serpent.” He said.

Intentions… Virginia wasn’t sure what her intentions were even now. All she knew was that she wanted to be wanted and Lemuel wanted her. Was that enough for Christ to accept her and spare her a painful bite from the snake? Was it pure enough?

“I don’t know.”

Virginia wasn’t ready yet, so she left Lemuel at the river bank and went home, feeling defeated that she had let Pastor Childs down. She had failed to prove herself to God once again, just as her mother had predicted.

Virginia was alone in her living room, wrapped in a quilt while she sat on her couch, thinking about her first week on the mountain. She missed the touch of Lemuel, his calloused hands holding hers while he told her how special she was. Just a few days with an older man who paid some attention to her and she was already spilling tears over him.

Am I really so pathetic? Virginia thought to herself. Am I really so inexperienced in the ways of the world that everything must confuse and scare me?

*Knock knock knock*

Virginia perked up from the couch and looked to the front door. Late at night, who could it have possibly been waiting on the other side? She knew no one in town except…

“It’s me.”

Lemuel. Of course it was.

She wiped her tears away and walked slowly to the door, the quilt still wrapped around her shoulders as she opened it. Lemuel looked antsy, shivering in the cold.

“May I come inside?”

Virginia didn’t want to be rude, so she stepped aside and welcomed him in, closing the door behind him. “So, what d’you want, Pastor? You didn’t bring a snake, did you?”

“Not this time.” He joked. “I just wanted you to know that…” Lemuel paused, his head shaking in thought. “You don’t know what life’s been like for me and my church this past year. We’ve been praying for something good to come to our mountain. Then you came to us.”

Virginia almost laughed, sitting herself back down on the couch while Lemuel stood before her. “Don’t think I’m as special, Pastor.”

“You were an answer to our prayers.” Lemuel affirmed. “You’re whole, pure, and good-natured.”

“You don’t know me that well.” Virginia said coldly.

“I know that you’re lost. It ain’t a sin to feel uncertain during hard times.” Lemuel continued, sitting down next to Virginia with his body turned towards her. She scooted back. “You was trying to tell me something by the river today. What was it?”

Virginia sighed, pulling her quilt closer to her body. “Your service moved me in ways I’ve never felt before and I felt that maybe, for the first time, I had found a place where I belong. But honestly, I’m not sure I’m ready.”

Lemuel understood that people were always hesitant to change their faith. It would be suspicious if she just did it without question.

“What makes you hesitate?” He said, genuinely interested. “It ain’t just the snakes, is it?”

“No.” Virginia shook her head. “It’s you.”

Lemuel’s brow furrowed. “Me?”

“When I said you don’t scare me… I was lying. You frighten me.”

“Frighten you?” Lemuel tilted his head.

“You could make me do whatever you wanted me to do just by using your words. I felt it during service, and again the other night at your house.” She shuddered at the memory of his thumb wiping away her tears. How much she wanted to kiss him. “If I were to join your congregation, it wouldn’t be out of pure intent. You understand what I’m saying?”

Lemuel leaned up, the truth settling into him. He did understand. He now knew why Virginia kept herself at a distance. It was out of restraint. He respected her self control. It was the Christian thing to do, to deny one’s self what one wants because they knew it was wrong to get it. But then Lemuel wondered… Was it really so wrong?

“I hear what you’re telling me, Miss Godwin.” He said, standing from the couch. “I only meant to be a spiritual guide for you-”

“And you didn’t mean to give me false hope, I understand.” Virginia interrupted.

“But, I have grown to have tender feelings towards you as well.” Lemuel finished with a look of uncertainty. He too was now afraid, afraid of his own heart. But being the Holy Ghost man he was, if he felt moved to speak, he would do so. “You’re right, I don’t know you well. But I feel I already understand you. I may be the shepherd of my parish, but I too have felt lost.”

Virginia watched him, surprised by his vulnerability. He looked different, as if his usual cool and certain demeanor had faded into a shell of defeat and confusion. Was this the real man underneath the mask of the preacher? Just as human as the rest of them? Just as flawed and sinful?

“You don’t know of my sins, Miss Godwin. What they cost me.” He continued, his fist clenching and unclenching, like he didn’t know if he should keep talking. “I had a wife once. And a daughter. So beautiful and full of spirit. And now they’re both gone. One gone to Heaven and the other to God knows where. Along with my grandchild.”

Grandchild? Virginia’s face fell. She couldn’t imagine the grief this man carried with him every second of the day. “I’m so sorry.”

“I let them down. I let Sister Slaughter down by nearly getting her son killed.” Lemuel said, his face contorting into an expression of anguish. “I told my daughter that once she left, she would never be welcomed back. I don’t know why I said that to her… I didn’t mean it.”

Virginia wondered if her mother felt the same way when she rejected her. That she actually regretted her words and actually wanted her to come back into her life.

“I thought with Dilly, I would do right by at least one soul who needs protection. Raise her in God’s love and keep her pure.” He was now fighting back tears, clenching his teeth as he continued. “But I know she’s hurting. She misses her mama, misses her best friend. I can’t help but feel like it won’t be long until she leaves too.”

Virginia pulled the quilt off her body and stood from the couch. She slowly approached him, her arms barely lifting by her sides to reach for him. She wasn’t so sure he wanted to be touched, but he didn’t seem to reject her sudden closeness.

“So, hear me when I tell you I understand what it’s like to feel lost.” He said, looking down at the shorter woman, who stared back up at him, listening intently. “Because I do. I really really do.”

“When you said you believed God brought me here to this place… Did you mean God brought me here for you?” Virginia asked, their faces inches apart.

Lemuel swallowed, his lips pressed into a thin line. They both knew the answer to that question.

“So, Pastor Childs… What happens now?”

For once, Lemuel didn’t know what to do next. He knew he cared for Virginia. He still desired for her to convert to his faith. But now that she stood before him, still close to him even after he confessed his past to her, he felt compelled to.. To..

Lemuel closed the distance between them with an uncertain kiss, their lips meeting in a sloppy, unexpected clash. She didn’t back up or push him away. Instead, Virginia kissed him back, her arms reaching up and looping around his shoulders, pulling him in closer.

He would’ve excused his actions as being moved by the Holy Spirit. It was what motivated anyone to do something so bold according to his faith. But in truth, it was Lemuel’s own desire to feel Virginia against him, assuring him that his wish to start over was real. That she was real.

To hell with everything else. She was brought here to me.

Lemuel held her face in his hands, tasting the flavor of her mouth, sweet and tart. Such a pretty young thing, so pure and lost, and she wanted him, an old man who drove his family away.

He never felt handsome. Lemuel didn’t care about looks. God didn’t either as vanity was a sin. But when Virginia grabbed at him and held him tight, kissing him like he was the only thing that mattered, he felt beautiful. He felt needed, like he used to feel when his daughter Mara was around.

“You’re my shepherd, Pastor Childs?” Virginia whispered, breaking apart from his mouth with a trail of spit dangling between them. “Guide me.” She took Lemuel’s hand and placed it against her breast, next to her beating heart.

Lemuel looked down at Virginia. She once looked so innocent and naive. Now before him stood a woman who knew what she wanted. And it scared him back into reality.

Lust was a deadly sin and he had just given into his desires. He had done wrong by Virginia already, making her believe that they were just about to lay together. The idea that he, the town pastor, almost spoiled an unmarried woman made him sick. And at the same time, it excited him.

“I can’t.” Lemuel retracted his hand and let Virginia go, backing away in shame. “We can’t, I-”

Virginia followed him. Lemuel raised a hand, stopping her. “But you kissed me, I thought-”

“To go even further would be…” He hung his head, angry with himself for acting so recklessly. “I’m sorry, Virginia. Please, forgive me.”

Before she could stop him, Lemuel turned and rushed out the front door. She didn’t embarrass herself by chasing after him, but Virginia still felt very foolish.

She knew better than to expect a pastor to give into his desires. A man so used to denying himself the freedoms that others indulge in without fear of hellfire must’ve felt the flames licking at his heels when he kissed the young virgin.

Virginia only hoped that their little accident wasn’t enough to deter him from wanting to see her. Because after that night, all she wanted to do was to be with him again.

She dreamt of Lemuel again. He was touching her, kissing her, telling her all the dirty things she longed to hear in that rustic voice. It was sinful. It was pleasure. It was her forbidden fruit. And when Virginia woke from her dreams, she’d be in heat and in need of relief.

It was shameful, working on herself while she thought of Lemuel. And she regretted it every time after she was finished. She knew that if she were brought before the serpent now, God would surely strike her down and send her to Hell. Virginia had been infected with the devil’s lust, a bitch in heat without a man to ravage her. She didn’t recognize herself anymore after that night, feeling as if she were blossoming into something new, something dark and twisted. Was this the evil her mother had warned her about all those years ago?

Lemuel had taken care to avoid running into Virginia when out and about. He confined himself to the church or wherever he was called upon for house visits. Distracting himself with his work, serving God and adoring Christ in his own way in an attempt to erase the memory of Virginia’s lips.

Sometimes when reciting a sermon, Lemuel would feel a tightness in his chest. It was as if the Holy Spirit knew he was guilty, that he wasn’t worthy to preach to others the word of Christ when he himself had sinned severely.

A kiss was a kiss, innocent enough that praying for forgiveness was enough to wash it away. It was the fact that Lemuel couldn’t stop thinking about it, that when he was alone at night, he thought of Virginia, naked and pale before him on his bed, opening herself up to him in a cloud of white and blue sheets, virginal and coy.

He imagined himself taking her softly and slowly, then roughly with vigor and abandon. He imagined himself thrusting into her, relishing her sweet moans before stifling them with a kiss. Then, Lemuel would open his eyes and see nothing but the dark ceiling above him, reminding him of his own solitude and that Virginia wasn’t there at all.

Virginia showed up to the next service, dressed modestly and outwardly demure. She didn’t sit up front like the first time but towards the back. Lemuel was grateful that she didn’t want to make a show of herself while he preached, for he was already struggling with simply existing within the same room as her.

He even hesitated to open up the crate and bring the serpent out, fearing that God would surely have him bitten. Lemuel had thought about it every second of the day ever since he kissed Virginia.

But he wasn’t bitten. Lemuel was spared. The creature merely slithered up and down his arms and around his neck, docile and quiet before it was returned to its home. He swallowed and gasped after the service concluded, grateful for God’s mercy.

Virginia remembered when Lemuel told her that facing the serpent was a way of proving oneself to God. Maybe this wasn’t an act of mercy but a sign of encouragement. Perhaps a blessing from God himself. She only hoped that Lemuel saw it that way too. But he didn’t say anything more than “thank you for coming” and “good night” after everyone left.

For three weeks their little dance of avoidance continued. The only time they would see the other was during service. And each time, Lemuel believed that that night would be the night the snake would bite. The snake never did. He was spared again and again.

Over time, Virginia was slowly making her way towards the podium where Lemuel preached, and with every service, her fear of the beast weakened. Sometimes she felt like reaching out and touching the animal herself, feeling brave enough to invoke God’s judgment. If Lemuel was clean, then why couldn’t she be as well?

“It is natural that humans fear snakes. They are dangerous creatures, capable of harm, capable of killing. We know very well just how scary they can be.” Lemuel said on the fourth night. “But these material creatures are just that… Material. We can touch them, pick them up, cast them out and confine them in a crate. It’s easy to put away that which we can touch. We can stifle their rattle with walls and locks.

“But the rattle within our souls, that’s hard to stifle. Even harder to confront. When we’ve done something wrong, be it a little white lie or a deadly sin… That is the devil rattling within us, trying to shake us up and lose our way. We cannot simply put that away in a crate and lock it up, hoping that by simply ignoring it, it’ll disappear.

“By confronting these rattles, we take power away from the devil. Because then we find our control and that’s what sets us on our path to redemption. And from redemption to paradise. Do you feel the rattle? Does it stir you up?” Lemuel addressed the congregation, which remained quiet.

But then, a soft voice spoke from the very front.

“I feel it, sir.” Virginia said. Lemuel looked at her, his brow furrowed and mouth open in awe. “It’s rattling within me.” She stood from her seat, her hand over her heart.

Lemuel never felt this scared since Mara’s last night in the church. Virginia helped herself up to the stage and extended her hand out to the pastor, her expression dead serious.

“A child of God… Is brought forth to us tonight.” He said.

“He is calling.” Virginia said, her head held high as she looked into Lemuel’s hazel eyes. She seemed somehow more sure than he.

“Are you ready to submit yourself before the Holy Ghost?” He asked.

Virginia inhaled deeply through her nose, maintaining eye contact while she prepared herself for what was to come. “I am.” She said,

Lemuel prayed that no one else could see his shaky hands when he knelt down to the crate and opened it up.

Neither saw it, but Hope Slaughter was there in the middle of the congregation, clutching at her husband’s hand while they watched as Lemuel raised the snake out of its crate and held it out towards Virginia.

“Please, Lord.” Hope whispered, closing her eyes. “Please Lord, spare the child.”

Virginia looked at the creature as it slithered before her, its jet-black eyes peering up at her as its tongue wiggled out every now and then. For a dangerous animal, it was rather innocent looking.

“Praise be to God.” Lemuel whispered as he handed over the animal.

Virginia was surprised by how heavy it felt. Of course it was heavy, it was all muscle. The skin was rough and scaly but the warm coloring was beautiful.The serpent was slow and tame, a good sign for Lemuel. It started to venture up her arm, then to her shoulder where it stuck it’s tongue out, almost tickling the underside of her jaw.

This isn’t so bad, Virginia thought to herself. It wasn’t quick or hostile like she thought most snakes were.

Lemuel was pleased that she had remained so calm while handling the animal. It was funny, Virginia almost appeared natural with the thing around her neck. “Praise be, thank you, Jesus.” He whispered, admiring the scene before him.

The rest of the congregation raised their arms to the ceiling and whispered praises and “hallelujah” while Lemuel kept his focus on Virginia. The snake slithered up and down her arms before coiling itself comfortably in her hands, it’s head pointed right up at her face.

She looked at the creature and smiled. Virginia smiled! She didn’t know why she did, but it felt right. Maybe she was thanking the snake for sparing her. Maybe she was rejoicing in God’s approval. Whatever the reason, she felt happy.

Lemuel never saw a woman look so beautiful before.

“Praise be to God, we welcome new blood into our house of worship.” Lemuel announced to the congregation.

The others sang their praises and thanked Jesus for bringing another soul to them, blessing Virginia’s name. Lemuel gently pulled the snake off of her and returned it to its crate. She exhaled, relieved that it was over. Now, Lemuel was holding her hands again, just as she dreamed, and officially welcoming her as a new member of the Church of the Holy Ghost.

Virginia Godwin was one of them now.

Notes: I apologize if the religious elements come off as inaccurate or weird. I did my own research as well as played off what was shown in the film, but if you're reading this and thinking "wtf this isn't right," that's why lol. If you wanna be added to the tag list, just lemme know! Thank you for the kind comments and reblogs, they're very much appreciated.

#walton goggins #them that follow #lemuel childs #cooper howard #fallout #the ghoul #justified #vice principals #the unicorn

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liketwoswansinbalance · 14 days ago

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Fic Excerpt:

@heya-there-friends I figured you might be interested since I've mentioned this potential fic to you.

⸻

General Note on Content: My intent is not to be preachy/moralistic/politically-charged but to depict an interesting scene and characterization in the context of a broader, would-be chapter, in which I've tried to match a setting from One True King. So, for the sake of storytelling and the existence of conflict, do not expect everything to be perfectly politically-correct. I'm going to leave a blanket tw: bigotry.

Context: Set during Rafal's desertion of the School in Pifflepaff Hills.

⸻

Rafal waited in line irritably. He had places to be. And he couldn’t stand putting up with this bureaucratic nonsense of Pifflepaff Hill’s. Wasn’t even his ruling. He glared at his boots and the heads behind him.

A whine speared out of the line from in front of him.

“Aw, but Mum! The squer-rills are out today!” A child no doubt.

“Keep in line and be a Good little girl,” a gentlewoman's voice chastised.

“Naah,” the child’s voice rang out, with a stamp of its foot. “I don’ wanna. And I’m not going through that damn pink door!”

The woman tittered and clucked. “You’re not a gnome, dear.”

Rafal felt a sharp tug on his coattails and turned, summoned by the little being.

“Silver-for-your-thoughts, sir?”

Unimpressed, Rafal gazed down at the child. Who in their right mind struck up conversation with the Evil School Master? Then again, he’d hadn’t a chance to visit Putsi yet and could do for a coin, even just one, to tide himself over with. No, that would be foolish. He had sorcery. Why bother with it? “Go away.”

“Please?”

Rafal took the coin up and fished out the novelty matchbox he’d bought as a present for Rhian at the night market. It was a set of Clive-Sons-&-Goblins speciality matchsticks, each coated with a powdered element that when lit produced a different color of the visible spectrum. His brother didn’t deserve it anyway—Rafal dropped it into the child’s now empty hands. “Avaunt.”

The child ran off, matchbook clutched with a death grip for fear of confiscation, and ducked into a small grove of trees nearby.

Rafal looked on, amused. That one would know how to use it. He could see it in the eyes.

“How dare you speak to my child that way!”

“Madam?” Rafal regarded the gentlewoman with derision.

“Prudence! Get back here this instant!” the woman called. She spun to Rafal. “You’re going to make my daughter and I tardy for our counseling appointment.”

“You’re holding up this blasted line.”

The woman gasped, clearly offended. “Sir! That is—”

Her eyes lit up with recognition and widened in fear as she realized she’d been conversing with the Evil School Master. “Oh, dear me, I don’t want you to consort with my daughter ever again!” she harrumphed. “You might fill her head with more raging, Evil thoughts! Like the last one she’s latched onto.”

“And what might that be?”

“Oh, it’s just a phase. Quite an enduring one though. For some reason, she’s got it in her head that she’s a boy—keeps insisting on it.”

“Uh-huh.” Rafal glanced over at the child jumping at a branch, dressed in culottes instead of skirts and a newsboy’s cap over its crudely shorn head.

“I dealt with adolescents daily and you’re wasting my valuable time with not just another child’s insubordination but your own. I don’t care what runs through their undeveloped heads. Just let your offspring pick whichever door without dilly-dallying, and let me through, if you so insist that it’s your turn now. And frankly, I don’t care what children believe about themselves or what they do so long as they’re productive. So, once again, you’re at a crossroads, one that probably seems complex to your simple mind: let me through the damn door if you’re delaying your turn, or move along now.”

“Why I never! It’s all I’d expect from a Never like you—corrupting innocent, young minds.”

“I don’t care if my basic job description as an educator upsets you. I’m not in the business of distributing good cheer and rainbows—” he began, with marked pith.

“You should be more like your brother. The Good one,” the woman suggested as if she’d stumbled upon the discovery of the century.

“Madam.” Rafal smirked to himself, “If I were anything more like my brother, it wouldn’t be such a far leap to assume you’d find reason to hate me more than you already do.”

“Goodness, what’s there to hate about him? Why, Rhian’s a pillar of Goodness and Godliness.”

“That is certainly… one way to define him… ” Rafal sighed. “Listen, your choice in naming wasn’t very prudent. Now, I could give you another problem to worry about, but I won’t because I have things to do. So, let me by," he seethed, towering over her.

She quailed and burbled, “I just need to collect my daughter and—”

“In all fairness, I think your son’s gender is the least you’ve got to worry about. It seems that in all that frenzy of yours, you haven't been paying attention to his morality.”

“Wha—what’s morality got to do with it? You’re the immoral one! You, you Never! I’m a woman of my word!”

“And I’m a man of action.”

Not the insult she seems to think it is, Rafal mused to himself. He himself was an exemplary specimen of a Never.

A squeak pierced the air.

She and Rafal glanced over at the copse of trees.

The boy had completed his squirrel chase and was holding a lit match burning a brilliant blue which smoked pink and white, to the creature’s throat.

“There. You see? Least of your problems. I’ll swing by and collect him in eight years. Should make a fine student if he keeps it up. And with that initiative, he’s certainly on track to become a Leader.”

The henpecked mother looked like she’d swallowed a toad and shouted, disoriented, “WHAT IN THE BLUE BLAZES IS HE DOING! Good God, please tell me I haven't birthed an Evil imp!” She wailed at the cotton-candy sky.

The Neverboy, whatever-his-name-would-be, waved ta-ta as Rafal watched and winked.

Rafal continued on his way through the blue doorway, whistling, having sown an impending uproar.

New problems really did extinguish the old. Worked like a charm. At least Rhian would be pleased when Rafal told him about his Good deed of the decade.

“SIR!”

Rafal turned back.

The boy waved his matchstick, sparks flying, as if he’d had an epiphany. “THE NAME’S CLIVE!”

Clive. Clive of Pifflepaff Hills, the Evil School Master noted. One more name for the ledger.

#school for good and evil #rise of the school for good and evil #rafal #rafal mistral #sge #sfgae #the school for good and evil #tsfgae #rotsge #rotsfgae #my post #my fics #my writing #snippets

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endlessnightlock · 8 months ago

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Regencylark! Part one of maybe three?

Based on the prompt, Evening, submitted by @mollywog

Under the weary gaze of Plutarch Heavensbee, Esq., Peeta Mellark completed his perusal of Uncle Haymitch's last will and testament and, thoroughly shocked by its contents, cast the document aside. "Can he actually do this?"

Heavensbee shrugged. "I'm sorry to tell you, my boy, he most certainly can. While you shall retain the title, either way, the money was not entailed with the estate. No matter how eccentric Haymitch may have been, he was in his right mind until the end."

Steepling his fingertips beneath his chin, Mellark frowned. "Well, this is a bit of a shit."

Heavensbee, sensing the beginning of a lengthy conversation on the tale end of a journey already fraught with disasters at every turn that resulted in him only arriving two days before the deadline set forth by the will (god rest his soul, though Heavensbee would have some choice words for the man if they were to meet in the afterlife), made himself comfortable in the ancient wingback chair next to the fire. He took a sip of the brandy Mellark's man poured out for them, forcing himself not to shudder. The drink was not of a good quality.

The situation was certainly a bit of a shit. It was apparent to anyone with eyes that Mellark was in no way prepared to take over the estate without additional funds to aid in its upkeep. If Heavensbee were to guess, the young man barely kept up the expenses of this house.

Heavensbee coughed several times, an indication that they had no time to dilly-dally. Mellark finally looked up. "Have you no lady of a particular acquaintance who is wife material?"

The younger man frowned. "One would think so. Unfortunately, one would be wrong. My whole life, I have made an effort to avoid society." He shuddered as if the idea of balls and theater gatherings and garden parties made him ill. "I assumed when the time came that I must take a wife, it would be after I had possession of Lord Abernathy's title and funds."

"How about, er, a special friend? Someone you keep company with regularly?"

"I have no mistress."

Heavensbee was beginning to sweat. This was going poorer than he'd anticipated. Mellark made it sound as though he were a hermit or a monk. "No local woman? A pretty village widow?"

Mr. Mellark stared back at him as if a woman were an alien concept.

"Anyone? Christ man, a scullery maid?"

There was a polite-sounding knock on the drawing-room door. It was Mellark's man again. The future Lord (perhaps penniless Lord?) made no effort to hide his relief at the interruption in conversation. Heavensbee sighed.

"My apologies for the interruptions, Sir, but you requested I let you know when Ms. Everdeen arrived."

Mellark's face lit up in what seemed genuine delight. "Oh, wonderful. Heavensbee, do you mind a short interruption in our conversation? It is not necessary to dismiss yourself. Simply a small matter to take care of."

No, Heavensbee certainly did not mind the appearance of an unmarried woman at the present time. "By all means," he said. Once Mellark's man was dismissed and the two were once again alone in the drawing room, he began his inquiry with delicacy. "Ms. Everdeen?"

"The local gamekeeper," Peeta explained, rising to his feet. Heavensbee followed. "It is a bit untoward having a young woman in the position, but her father before was renowned for his skill."

"Does Ms. Everdeen have a good reputation?"

"Oh, the best as far as I know. She is well-loved in the community. Highly respected. Not given to drink or men. She is quite an attractive woman," Mellark admitted, chewing the corner of his lip in contemplation.

Hope simmered in Heavensbee's belly at the younger man's admiration for any woman, romantic or not. A lot of good marriages began out of mutual admiration. Love was free to blossom in such situations.

"Tell me if you would then. This Ms. Everdeen---she is unattached?"

"I'm not subject to village gossip, Heavensbee. I do not know Ms. Everdeen well, except that she has a mother and sister in her care."

Heavensbee had to restrain himself from smacking Mellark in the back of his head. Simply in the interest of knocking some smarts into the young man. "So Ms. Everdeen is a young, attractive woman, most likely unattached, with an unmatched reputation."

"What are you getting at?" Mellark asked, setting his drink aside.

"My boy, do you not see? When one is in a pinch, such as you are, the deadline for your nuptials is tomorrow evening, and Ms. Everdeen sounds like your best option for a wife. If she is willing."

#endlessnightlock writes #everlark fanfiction #katniss everdeen/peeta mellark #thg #everlark drabble #more to come! this idea is lighting my brain up #regency era #marriage of convenience

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daydreamgoddess14 · 22 days ago

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this love left a permanent mark - Chapter 1

Hi!! Need something for your Sunday reading?

In an assignment that takes them undercover as a married couple, Sid and River must navigate the fine line between their cover story and their growing feelings for each other. As they infiltrate a defence contractor to uncover a secret insider threat, they must balance their mission objectives with the undeniable chemistry that sparks between them. Will their real feelings compromise their mission, or will they find a way to keep both intact?

River Cartwright x Sid Baker, no warnings required aside from a bit of bad language.

Approx 8.5k words

Full Masterlist

River Cartwright x Sid Baker Masterlist

Taglist: @a-sunflower-in-bloom @sad-quality @linkpk88

She didn't miss them. Not any of them, not at all.

She didn't miss Ho's incessant chatter, or Louisa’s ‘don't you dare speak unless I've had three cups of coffee’ attitude.

She didn't miss Lamb using belching as punctuation, or Catherine's disappointed frown when she saw the state of River's desk.

She didn't miss River. Or Shirley. Or any of them.

But god, her new co-workers were boring.

It was draining, having to be so nice all the time.

If she'd been this nice for consecutive minutes - let alone weeks - at Slough House, River wouldn't let her hear the end of it.

Being nice was boring.

She missed the fire at Slough House, the snippy little arguments. Knowing that you could be yourself without having to tread on eggshells.

No one expected nice, or even polite.

You want to be in a foul mood and keep your headphones on all day? Go for it.

Equally, you wanted to make a round of tea - with biscuits - without being forced? Go for it.

No expectations.

Now that, she did miss.

She'd been on her best behaviour for weeks.

“Oh, Sid! Thank you so much for your help on the Callahan project,” a bright, happy face appeared next to her desk. “I owe you, big time!”

“No problem Dilly. I told you, Polish translations are easy.” Sid smiled.

“For you maybe, I just can't seem to pick it up the way I did German.”

“Apparently German is an easier language to learn.”

“You need anything for lunch?”

“No thanks, I've got to go and get a click and collect order,” Sid closed her laptop.

“Have you ordered anything new for the weekend trip yet?” Dilly asked eagerly.

“Not yet, is it really that important?”

Dilly’s jaw dropped. Sid wondered if she might have to scrape it off her desk.

“Important? It’s only the event of the year! Everyone is going to be there. If you want to get on in this place - or down the road at Westminster - you just have to go.”

“I’ve only been here a few weeks, I’m probably not even on the list -”

“You are, and you get a plus one. Honestly, you underestimate how crucial it is. The company uses it as a team-building thing, they invite a few government heads of department, next thing you know you’re an MP for some shitty town up north and you’ve got a cushy job for life.”

Sid frowned.

“I don’t want to be an MP -”

“That’s just an example. The weekend gets you in… to the clique, the top set y’know. My first time I was so nervous! I've been going a few years now.”

“And did you get anything good out of it?”

“Well… not yet, but Diego reckons I’m in line for Warwick’s job when he moves across to government - which he will. Probably after this year’s weekend away.”

“Right,” Sid’s frown deepened.

“Besides, it’s in Venice?! Surely you’re not going to miss out on that?”

“And I get a plus one?”

She fiddled with the ring on left hand, a simple, narrow gold band.

“Yep! Which means I get to meet the hubby at last, is he fit?”

“He’s… gorgeous.” Sid smiled.

“Got a pic?”

The smile on Sid’s face froze. Shit.

She didn’t have a picture. Hell, she didn’t have a husband! Or even a plan for one.

‘He’ was just part of the backstory, to get people talking.

And now… she needed one. Not just a picture of any old internet stock photo. A real, breathing human who could survive a weekend in Venice.

Lamb would have to come up with a plan. Maybe the Park would send someone.

“No… I -”

“Not even a wedding picture?”

Shit. Was this girl for real?

“They’re not back from the photographer yet.”

“Yeah, but like, your mum took some pics though? His mum?”

“It was super intimate. Just the two of us.”

Dilly looked put out.

“I’ll be back in a bit, I’ve really got to collect this order before it goes back to the warehouse. I’ll have a look when I’m back, see if I can find a photo for you.” You nosey cow.

The offer did the trick, Dilly squealed with delight and went back to her desk.

“Can’t wait! I looked for you on Facebook and nothing,” seriously, was this girl for real?

“I’m not on social media.”

“Don’t I know it! Insta, Snap, girl, I looked everywhere for you!”

“Why would you need to do that?” Sid asked, trying to act as if Dilly’s actions were totally normal. The younger woman shrugged.

“I like to know who I’m working with, silly! We spend sooo much time working, don’t you think it’s nice when it becomes such a family environment?”

Sid thought about Slough House, which admittedly, she now felt a pang for.

“Love it,” she smiled through gritted teeth, “love it so much when that happens. So much.”

She made her escape, letting out a huff of relief as she entered the lift.

She moved quickly down the road towards M&S, jumped in the queue at the cafe next to the Click and Collect desk and ordered a round of toast and a coffee. She slipped into a booth in the corner, one side already occupied.

“Mind if I sit here? It’s a bit busy!” She asked brightly.

“Help yourself,” the man replied, busy with his newspaper.

“Anything good in the news?”

The man grunted.

“Yeah, lots of impatient people.”

“Aren’t they always?”

“They hoped for more by now.”

“Well, these things take a little while.”

“Hmm.”

“They could just do it themselves if they’re that bothered.”

The paper moved away from the man’s face.

“They’d rather leave it with us and then complain that we’re doing it wrong.” Lamb rolled his eyes, reaching for the other slice of Sid’s toast.

“That’s my lunch.” She pulled the plate towards her but it was too late, he’d already lifted it.

“Boo hoo.”

“I need a husband.”

“Sorry Sid, I’m just not the marrying kind.”

“You know what I mean. You gave me the stupid newlywed backstory, now I actually need to fulfill it. There’s a work event coming up - a weekend away - lots of bigwigs there, plenty of time to try and work out who the mole is.”

“And where, pray tell, is this weekend away?”

Sid blew the top of her coffee and looked around the cafe innocently.

“Venice.”

She noticed Lamb catch himself before raising his voice.

“Venice, Italy?”

“Are there any others?”

“Been a long time since I did Geography, Baker.” He sighed. “Let me get this straight, you expect her to sign off the expenses for a weekend in Venice for you and someone else?”

“If she wants to find out who the mole is, then yes. I also need some clothes, got to look the part.”

She hid her grin behind her mug.

“Great, I’ll tell Cartwright to dig out his tux.”

Her smile fell.

“What?”

“Well, unless you want to be temporarily married to Ho?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Then Cartwright it is. Don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll look the part as you said.”

“It’s not the looks that worry me.” She frowned, “I just mean -”

“I don’t care what you meant. I’m sure he’ll survive. He’s got you to keep him on the straight an’ narrow hasn’t he?”

“You seriously expect me to pretend to be married to him for a whole weekend?”

“Sid, in case it has escaped you, you are a spy.” He lowered his voice, “I expect you to continue the undercover work you’ve been doing for the last month, and I expect you to work out who the mole is that’s selling defence secrets to foreign governments… got it?”

Sid nodded.

“Got it,” she mumbled.

“Pardon?”

“Got it.” She said a little louder.

“Good. I’ll tell Cartwright to get packing.”

“He’ll need to meet up with me so I can give him an idea of who’s who. If he’s supposedly my husband then I’ll have been talking to him about them for the last few weeks. I also need his passport details.”

Lamb folded his newspaper and finished his coffee.

“Alright, alright. You already sound like his wife,” Lamb sniggered. At Sid’s glare, he raised his hands in defeat, “just a little joke. Go on, back to the office with ya, time to whack-a-mole.”

He tapped her on the head with the paper and then tucked it under his arm, whistling as he headed for the escalator.

~~~~~

Lamb’s return to the office was announced by the thumping on the floor of his office.

When River poked his head around the door, he was digging around in his desk drawers.

A small black box sailed through the air towards River’s head, his hand darted out to catch it.

“What’s this?”

“Congratulations,” Lamb muttered, opening another drawer.

River opened the box to find a simple gold wedding band.

“On?”

“Your wedding, idiot. I hear it was a lovely intimate affair. Just the two of you, then back home for a night of passion.” He gave River a withering look up and down. “Maybe not a whole night.”

“Oi!”

“You are getting on a bit now.”

“I’m 34.”

“Might as well start on the viagra then.”

Lamb pulled an envelope from the draw - victorious at last. “Passport, phone, credit card, cash. Don’t bankrupt us.”

“Where am I going?”

“Call the wife and ask her, she needs to get you up to speed anyway. Not sure she’s got a millenia to spare, but hey ho.”

“I don't have a wife?”

“Have you noticed anyone who seems to have taken temporary employment elsewhere?” He took River’s silence for a yes. “There you go then. Give her a call, number’s in the phone already. You are in love. You are happily married newlyweds. I don’t give a shit how you sell it, but make nice with her new work pals and find out who this sodding mole is before we find ourselves being bombed by one of the Koreas.”

“North.”

“Honestly, could be either of them. This mole has got our knickers down, we need to stop them. Now fuck off and call Baker.”

River took the envelope and made his way down to his office. The phone unlocked without a passcode and revealed a smiling photo of Sid as the wallpaper. He brought up the contacts list and hit the green button.

“Hi babe!” She cooed. He took the phone from his ear, and stared at it. “Can you hear me?”

He blinked at the phone. “Love? Can you hear me?”

Typical, he heard her say, I think he’s bum dialled me. She giggled. An alien sound that jolted him his stupor.

“Sid?”

“Oh! You can hear me, you ok babe?”

She did not sound like Sid. Not his Sid anyway, this was a bubbly, labrador version of Sid that he was having serious trouble picturing.

“Uhhh, yeah?”

“Great, did you get my text about Venice? I’m so excited!”

River coughed.

“You’re so right,” Said continued, covering for his absent side of the conversation, “we should go out for dinner tonight. Where do you fancy?”

“Uhhh -” he stuttered again.

“Côte? Barbican one? Can you book, I’m swamped here. 6 o’clock ok?”

“That’s… that’s fine.”

“Fab, see you later. Love you!” She rung off, leaving him staring at the phone. As he stared, a message came through and covered the Sid wallpaper.

Get it together you twat. I’m not being fake married to Ho.

Well. That was him told.

~~~~~

He was already there when she arrived.

Her stomach swooped as she crossed the room to him. He was reading the menu, his brow furrowed in decision mode.

“The beef cheek is beautiful here usually.” She told him, dropping her bag in the chair next to him.

“S’what I was going to have, actually.”

“Better make it two then. Red wine, or are you sticking with beer?” She gestured to his half drunk pint.

“Beer for me.”

“I’ll have a cocktail then,” she pulled up the menu and read through.

“How’s the new job?”

“Needs more gin,” she grimaced.

“Better than the other one, surely?” He asked.

“You’d be surprised. The grass, believe it or not, isn’t always greener.” She smiled at the waitress. “Two beef cheeks, another pint and a rose negroni please.”

“You didn’t witness the Shirley and Ho thumb war this afternoon. Riveting.”

“At least you don’t have to be nice all day every day.”

“That bad?”

“For people who work in something as dull as defence contracts, they’re very… smiley.” Her negroni arrived and she took a long, grateful sip. “Oh, that’s lovely.” She sighed.

River waited patiently.

“Right, I’ve been there a month. Trying to find… y’know,” she looked around at the dining room of full tables. “They’re a nice enough bunch, bit too happy for me. You’ve got Dilly and I who are reviewing all current contracts and handling the renewals. Diego and Jonty are like… sales, they’re trying to get new companies on board. Warwick is the head of the department I’m in, but he’s apparently in line for a move to Westminster at some point. Dilly would be up for his job then, she’s been angling for it for a while. Then there’s Angela and Kasim in accounts, that’s a bit of a hole at the moment. They keep the finances very close, I can barely catch sight of an invoice. Then we have Lilly, Pete and Hassan who are all like… they move around the office depending on where they need more help.”

“That’s a lot of people.”

“That’s why it’s taking a while to get what Lamb needs. I’m hoping the weekend away will be a chance to get to know them all away from work, get a bit of booze into them and see if they talk a bit more freely.”

“And they’ll all be bringing partners?”

“Yep, more names to try and remember.”

“And the weekend?”

“Every year they go away for a long weekend. They invite some government people as well, it’s a bit of a posh boys club where they can all get pissed and mingle. It’s pretty much how anyone moves further up into the company - or out of it and into government. It's basically just a piss up. This year, it’s about an hour outside of Venice. They’ve hired a small hotel - 25 rooms all taken by the company - and they put on an agenda of stuff to do.”

“Sounds nice, and Lamb decided you were married?”

“He gave me the background before we learned about Venice. I sprung it on him today. I thought…” She looked thoughtful. “I thought he’d get someone from the Park.”

“But you’ve ended up with me. I can do it, you know?”

“I’m sure you can, it’s just a lot of people. I’m the newest, and I’m supposedly only just married. It has to be convincing.”

“It will be. It can be.” He assured her as their food arrived.

She bit her lip and sighed.

“Ok,” she nodded. “Ok, let’s do it.”

After they’d eaten, she pulled her phone from her bag and read the agenda aloud.

“I had the official invite today. We fly out a week on Friday - gives us about ten days to get organised - and fly back on Monday. Friday night is a drinks reception and ‘get to know you’ thing, Saturday is a hike through the town, a stop off at the oldest Grappa distillery, and then a cooking class in the afternoon. Followed by a three course dinner at the hotel - that’s black tie, by the way - and ‘evening games’,” she pulled a face. “God, what does that mean? Then Sunday is a trip into Verona followed by an afternoon by the pool and then dinner. Monday is brunch and then off to the airport.”

“Plenty of time to get to know this lot,” he gestured to his napkin where he’d scribbled everyone’s name.

“Smile,” she requested, holding up her phone. She took a quick picture and set it as her phone wallpaper. “Dilly keeps asking to see a picture of you. I’ll try and get all of the partner’s names over the next couple of days. You could do some research on everyone?”

“Yeah, I will.”

“You also need to go shopping, make sure you have a decent suit.”

“I have a decent suit.”

“Do you, though? I mean a really nice one, River.”

“Relax, I’ve got a suit. Do you have everything you need?”

“There’s somewhere I usually hire evening dresses from. I’ll get a few.”

“So we’re all set then? Easy.”

“It’d be easier if Lamb had made me single.” She muttered.

“Good luck handling this lot alone, sweetheart,” he held the napkin up.

“Literally cannot believe I have to be married to you.”

“Til death do us part,” he grinned, wiggling his ring finger.

“That can certainly be arranged, babe.”

She signalled for another cocktail.

~~~~~

Sid slammed the door of the taxi behind her and dragged her case to the pavement. The airport looked daunting. More than twenty people inside were ready to party and mingle all weekend. She felt River's hand join with hers, interlocking their fingers.

“C'mon then, Mrs Masterson,” he frowned. “Sounds weird.”

“At least we kept our first names,” she agreed. “I need to make sure I don't call you Cartwright,” she panicked.

“It'll be fine. You're ready?”

“Ready,” she nodded. “Remember,” she hurried to keep up with him, “tactile but not like, gross PDA.”

“I know,” he looked back with a grin.

“Stick your tongue down my throat and I'll bite it off,” she warned.

“I know.”

“And I swear to god, try and touch me and I'll murder you River -”

“Sid, I know.”He told her firmly. “They're in the wine bar?”

She nodded, looking over his shoulder for the departure area. “Yeah but we might see some people before we get there, so it starts right now. The only time we drop the act is when we're totally alone, in private. Any other time, we have to assume that anyone could see us.” She sounded nervous, she knew she did. Her eyes flicked around the busy check in desks, the stairs towards security, on high alert for colleagues.

He took a step towards her, blocking most of her view.

“Breathe,” he said quietly, leaning down to talk in her ear. His lips brushed her earlobe. “We're going to be fine.” He promised.

“Sid?!” A loud voice cut through the noise of the crowds. “It is you!”

“Dilly,” she whispered just before River moved away.

“I'm River,” he turned to greet her, holding out his hand, “you must be Dilly? I've heard so much about you.”

Dilly beamed.

“I've hardly heard a thing about you other than you're gorgeous - and she was dead right about that! No wonder she kept you quiet!”

The smile on River's face didn't falter as Dilly talked a mile a minute.

“Ah, she's the gorgeous one,” he insisted, not missing a beat, putting an arm around Sid's shoulder.

“This is Tom, my boyfriend. Six years this year! Still no engagement,” she shook her head. Tom raised his hand, his half smile indicated that he was very used to Dilly making the ‘no engagement’ comment.

“Let's ditch these cases and get to the bar, start the weekend as we mean to go on.” Dilly breezed through them and towards the check in desk. “I'll need to stay half cut just to put up with Amber,” she muttered.

“Amber, Warwick's wife of eighteen years,” River muttered partly to himself, partly to Sid.

Sid soon realised that as long as she held River's hand and occasionally looked lovingly up at him, she could rely on Dilly to hold court.

Letting Dilly talk allowed her time and space to get used to the weight of River's hand in hers and helped her get used to being his ‘wife’.

The queue through security moved quickly, Sid dumped her bag and phone into one of the trays along with her fake wedding and engagement rings.

“Mrs Masterson?” River asked at the end of the conveyor, holding out her rings. Sid blushed and held out her hand.

“Thank you,” she murmured. A little further ahead, she could see Dilly watching them, enraptured. She reached up on her tiptoes to kiss him. She hesitated for a second, suddenly unsure of herself, until his arm wrapped around her and pulled her in.

“Sell the first one, and they'll buy the rest,” he whispered quickly before kissing her firmly. Sid felt herself freeze in his arms but quickly remembered it was her face Dilly could see, not River's. She let her eyes flutter closed and leaned into him. It was a chaste, closed kiss, functional and nothing more. He broke it first, took her hand, and led her to Dilly and Tom who were getting their bearings.

“Still in the honeymoon stage then?” Dilly giggled at them.

“Oh look, there's the bar,” Sid ignored the comment and pointed hers and River's joined hands towards the wine bar.

“Yesss, I hope Warwick has put his credit card on the tab. I intend on camping out here till I have to run for the plane.” Dilly said gleefully.

“No, Dil. No running!” Tom sighed. “Had to leg it through Terminal 5 when we went to New York. They literally cheered when we got on the plane.” He looked pained.

River clapped him on the shoulder.

“Don't worry mate, Sid’s an airport Queen. She's forever keeping me in check.”

He let go of her hand and put an arm around her, pulling her in close and placing a kiss on her hairline.

“She keeps me in check too,” Dilly grinned, “the best work bestie!”

“My first work bestie,” Sid forced a smile.

She felt River pinch her waist lightly and as Dilly turned toward the bar, he frowned.

“First work bestie?” He nudged her, “rude.”

“Idiot. C'mon, are you ready to meet the others?”

“A weekend with twenty odd strangers, can't wait.”

“Worst weekend of my life,” she grimaced.

“Thanks,” he laughed. “Look, we've not been married long, we can use that as an excuse to stick together, watch them. If there's a mole, they're going to struggle to be on form all weekend.”

“Being undercover is no different,” she reasoned.

“It's our job. Just… keep the lie going. Like you said, this is it now unless we're in private.”

“What're you drinking?” Tom asked from a few meters in front of them.

“Gin,” they responded in unison.

Sid felt River suck in a breath as they continued beyond the bar with their drinks in hand. Near the back of the room, their group was gathering, taking up multiple tables and filling the space with noise and laughter. On spotting Sid, a stocky man in his fifties with a well kept salt and pepper goatee split the crowd like the red sea to greet her.

“Sid Masterson! Our newest recruit.”

“Morning, Warwick.” He smiled widely, waving his hand to quieten the group.

“Guys, guys! You all know Sid?”

A chorus of voices and waves barrelled towards her and she felt herself take a small step closer to River. “This is -?”

“My uh,” she cleared her throat, “my husband, River.”

Warwick shook his hand vigorously, welcoming him warmly. Then he turned and began reeling off names.

“Hope you've got a memory as good as Sid's,” he winked. “Are you ready for this?” His laugh boomed. “Let's see if I can get it right! This here is my wife, Amber, then we have Diego and Stella, Jonty and Sam, Angela and Lucy, Kasim and Issy, Lilly and Dave, Pete and Deb, Hassan and Priya and finally, you already know Dilly and Tom.” He took a long drink. “That gets harder each year. I'll have to stop employing people!”

Everyone laughed politely. “We'll be joined later by a few others from outside the business, but I've kept the number nice and low.”

“Darling, twenty-five people is not a nice, low number,” Amber withered. Her blonde hair was curled, her tan perfect. She looked at least twenty years younger than Warwick. Behind Amber, Sid watched Dilly fake being sick. “Sid, it's lovely to meet you at last. Congratulations on the wedding! Just before you started the job, wasn't it?”

“Thank you,” Sid smiled serenely, “about a week before the job, I think it was.”

“I can't wait to hear about it, I do love a wedding!” She giggled, taping Sid's hand lightly. She continued on her way to make small talk with Jonty and Sam.

They stayed to one side of the group, she watched River as he observed them all, embedding the names into his brain. He looked down at her, catching her off guard.

“You're watching me.” He murmured.

“Just… appreciating my husband.”

She leaned into him, her arm sliding across his back.

“Overwhelming isn't it?” Tom declared. “So many people to remember. Don't worry, I still get it wrong!” Dilly joined him with a giggle.

“I'm pretty sure we used the first trip away as an excuse for a dirty weekend! That was about four years ago.” She nudged Tom with her elbow. “Remember that one?” She turned to Sid and River, “Athens. All we saw was the hotel room!” Her laughed pealed through the room. “So when you two skip dinner,” she wiggled her finger at them, “I'll know what you're up to!”

Sid blushed.

“Drink up, you lot, the gate is open,” Warwick called out, his authoritative voice was enough to encourage everyone towards the exit.

~~~~~

The view from the window was incredible.

Sid leaned over River who’d bagged the window seat.

“Shame we’re not going to Venice itself.” She whispered, looking down in awe at the maze of canals.

“Verona though, that’ll be good?”

“True, so romantic.” She sighed, thinking of Dilly and Tom being able to hear them in the row behind.

“Have you been to Venice before?” Dilly asked, peeping through the gap between the seats.

“No, you?”

“No, I tried to get Warwick to put it on the itinerary but he picked Verona instead,” she complained.

“Verona is supposed to be so underrated,” Warwick insisted from across the aisle. “Amber’s never been.”

Dilly arched her eyebrow at Sid. She’d made her feelings about Warwick’s wife dictating the itinerary very clear.

The plane turned again, exposing more of Venice beneath them.

“We’re going to the home of Grappa, I can’t wait!” Tom piped up. “I wonder how much I can fit in my case,” he winked at Dilly.

“Not that much, Tom.” She sighed, going back to her book.

“I'm going to need Grappa to survive this trip,” River whispered, tucking Sid's hair behind her ear.

“You and me both,” the afternoon sun filled the plane with a honey glow, highlighting flecks of gold within the blue of his eyes. Sid held her breath. Steeled herself. She wasn't sure she'd looked at him before, really looked at him. Staring openly at him was not something encouraged at Slough House and she couldn't remember ever sitting so closely that she could see every detail of his face.

The tinny sound of a cabin crew announcement startled her and she reluctantly looked away.

“Ladies and gentlemen we'll shortly be landing if you could take your seats and fasten your seat belts please.”

Without Sid mentioning it, River took her hand in his.

When the plane had taken off, she'd gripped the armrests so hard her knuckles went white. He'd offered his hand but she'd gritted her teeth and shook her head.

This time, he didn't ask.

She held it tightly while his thumb rubbed circles on the back of her hand.

She stared nervously out the window at the seemingly endless water, frantically wondering when solid ground would show up.

River twisted in his seat, blocking her view out of the window. She instead focused on the narrow weave of his t-shirt.

When the wheels met the ground with a thud, her eyes flicked up to meet his.

“Don't laugh at me,” she warned, her jaw still held taut.

“I'm not laughing,” he said quietly.

The plane slowed as they taxied to the gate, Sid felt herself relax and loosen her hold on River's hand.

He shook it, encouraging the circulation to return. “Tight grip,” he winced.

“Baby,” she stuck her tongue out.

Warwick hustled them through customs and baggage claim to a small coach with a chatty Italian driver.

Sid grabbed the window seat this time, with Dilly jumping in next to her.

“Leave the boys to chat,” she insisted, linking arms with Sid and pointing out of the window as they got further away from the city.

Sid looked around for River and found him a couple of rows back and across the aisle. Seeing Sid looking for him, he winked.

She felt her smile grow, wide and real.

He returned it.

“Holy shit!” Dilly hissed next to her, physically taking hold of Sid's face and turning it to the window.

She heard River laugh.

When she turned, she saw a glimpse of the villa as they arrived up the wide, sweeping driveway.

“Oh,” she breathed.

“Sid it's beautiful,” Dilly squeaked in awe.

Sid was met with a breathtaking view of the countryside and the city in the distance. The hotel was a traditional villa, with stucco walls, terracotta roof tiles, and charming Juliet balconies overlooking the picturesque gardens with rows of ancient olive trees and a pool.

“Welcome home guys,” Warwick announced proudly.

A team of valets waited with trolleys to take the cases from the coach, Sid waited to take River's arm and followed the group into the luxurious reception.

Elegant and expansive, the polished travertine floors gave way to high ceilings painted blue and adorned with intricate carvings in soft golds and creams.

A mix of classic and modern furniture littered the space, with a grand desk for the reception staff.

The scent of fresh flowers and espresso floated through the air.

“I will never complain about my job again,” River swore.

Sid looked around, equally gobsmacked.

“This is… wow.”

She caught sight of Angela and Lucy, eyes like saucers as they looked around the room. The other couples were equally astonished, with the exception of Warwick and Amber who assisted the hotel manager as they identified each set of guests and paired them with a room key.

While they waited, a tray of champagne flutes made its way through the group.

“Go and freshen up, everyone. Drinks reception at 6pm sharp! You've got a couple of hours to explore.”

Sid found herself in no rush to move. She sought out River's hand and went to the huge doors which opened out onto the poolside. Around the pool were small tables with umbrellas dotted along the cobbled pathway. He wrapped an arm around her, looking out at the view of the surrounding hills and villages.

“Remind me to thank Lamb for this,” she sniggered, finishing her champagne. “In fact,” she put the glass down and pulled her phone from her bag. She opened the camera app and held out her arm to take a photo of them both. She held up the message to show River.

“He's saved as dad?”

“Well, I can't exactly put him in my phone as who he really is, can I?” She defended.

“Want to see our room?”

Her face lit up.

“Lead the way, Mr Masterson.”

She gratefully retrieved the key from Warwick and found the way through the wide atrium and up the elegant staircase.

River held the door open, letting Sid step into the luxurious bedroom.

Her eyes were immediately drawn to the king sized bed, draped in soft white linens and framed by four towering wooden pillars.

The room exuded opulence, with the bed overlooking a huge window with a small balcony, open to show off the view over the pool and out towards the village.

In the bathroom, she discovered a deep roll-top bathtub and rainforest shower.

“Oh my god,” she murmured, dropping her handbag on the bed and looking around. “Have you ever been somewhere so fancy?” She laughed.

“This is insane,” he agreed.

She looked at the bed again, and then at River.

“There's only one.”

“Well, yeah. I kind of expected that.” He told her.

“You did?”

“Warwick thinks we're married, what did you think was going to happen?”

Sid sighed.

“Oh… yeah.”

The door knocked, interrupting her thoughts. River answered, opening the door wide to let the valet in with their cases and another tray of champagne.

“It's a big bed,” she reasoned once the valet had gone.

“Huge. Hope you don't snore?”

“Me?” She scoffed. “I will suffocate you in your sleep if you keep me awake, Cartwright.”

“I think you'll find that's Masterson. This weekend at least.” He grinned, handing her a glass of champagne.

“Hmm. We should get caught up on anything we've noticed before we go to this drinks thing.”

“Think we're safe to sit outside?” He asked, looking over the balcony to the pool below. He could see Diego and Stella already enjoying the sun, with Kasim and Pete carrying drinks out to meet them, with their partners following closely behind. “They won't hear us from down there.”

She sank into the lounger next to him.

“How'd you think it's going?”

“So far so good. The amount of booze Warwick is spilling is going to mean people are going to be very, very drunk.”

Sid frowned at her glass of champagne.

“Yeah we should probably…”

“Try and stay somewhat sober.” He finished.

“Exactly. We need to be able to think straight and pay attention. Have you noticed anything yet?”

“Dilly never stops talking, those three,” he nodded towards the pool at Diego, Kas and Pete, “are very pally -”

“With Jonty too, the four of them are really tight.”

“Any of them short of money? Stella sounds like she enjoys the high life.” He wondered aloud.

“You're thinking they're doing it for the money? Fund a lifestyle?”

“Why else would they do it?”

“If that's an angle then we need to consider Angela. Dilly said she and Lucy had paid thousands and thousands for IVF.”

“Warwick obviously likes to splash the cash a bit,” he gestured to their room. “Who hires a whole hotel for their workmates?”

“OK, so money would be a tricky one to use as a reason. They all have their own worries there.”

“I don't even think I've spoken to Hassan or Lilly yet.”

Sid frowned.

“Maybe we need to divide and conquer a bit this evening?” He nodded in agreement.

“I'll have to take some cues from you on being friendly,” he teased.

“Ugh don't,” she rubbed her cheeks, “my face hurts from smiling.”

“Tell you what, I'll go down and join that lot,” he gestured to the group downstairs, “you enjoy that huge bath or something.”

“Yeah?” She brightened.

“Yeah, have a break from them for a bit.”

He headed for the door, pushing the room key into his pocket.

“Thank you,” Sid said, taken aback. “I wasn't sure you'd be up to this but… I think we're doing OK.” He smiled shyly, closing the door behind him.

~~~~~

She lay back against the curve of the bath, surrounded by bubbles from a very expensive looking bottle on the counter.

After the champagne during the day, and the gin at the airport, she wanted to collect her thoughts and take stock of everything so far.

Goosebumps raised along her arms as the first thing that came to mind was River.

Sell the first one, and they'll buy the rest he'd said right before he'd kissed her.

She hoped they were doing a good job of selling it. She'd watched Dilly and Tom at the airport, planning to use them as a model of sorts. After six years together though, it was clear they weren't romantic enough to base her ‘new’ relationship with River on.

With no frame of reference in her own life, she was winging it.

She couldn't remember the last time someone had held her hand, comforted her during a flight, or tucked back her hair.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd been kissed.

And now she was left knowing how River sighed right before he'd kissed her, the way he tasted, the size of his hand wrapped around hers.

She took a breath and tipped backwards, submerging herself in the deep bath.

Her eyes closed and she saw blue flecked with gold.

When she got out of the bath and opened the door, he was back sitting on the balcony.

“Feel better?”

She swallowed.

“Yup, bathroom's all yours.”

He took his suit on its hanger with him.

Sid shook off her nerves and settled at the vanity with her make up bag.

He emerged later, stubble trimmed with his tie loose around his collar. He'd timed perfectly with Sid finishing her hair. Still wrapped in the soft white robe, she took her dress to the bathroom to change.

The first dress she'd picked for the weekend (and she'd chosen a few), was a navy blue gown bejeweled with gold. It made her smile as she opened the long skirt to step into it. She pulled the spaghetti straps up her arms but couldn't untangle them on her back, nor could she work the zip.

“River? Can you come in here for a minute?”

“What's up?” He asked from the other side of the door.

“I need a bit of help with my dress. The zip is stuck and the straps are all messed up,” she huffed.

He knocked before joining her in the large bathroom. She held the front of the dress to her chest with one hand still trying to untangle the straps with her other, “I can't…” she stretched and twisted, she puffed her fringe off her forehead. “It's stuck,” she whined.

“Just stop,” he held up a hand, “stop moving a minute,” he laughed.

When she was finally still, he stood behind her and traced the line of each strap from her shoulder to the waist of her dress, untwisting and untangling them one at a time.

With each brush of his fingertips on her back, Sid shivered. When they were finally straightened out, he pulled the tiny zip from its starting point at the back of her thighs, to her waist.

“Thank you,” she breathed.

She fanned her hands, trying to cool herself down from getting worked up over the dress.

She eyed his crooked tie with a frown. “Let me just,” with her tongue held between her teeth in concentration, she undid the tie and remade it.

She smoothed her hands down the lapel of his jacket, scanning for stray threads and pieces of lint. “Very nice,” she said at last.

“Thanks,” He grinned. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

Her blush crept down her neck, probably all the way to her toes, she decided.

She used him for balance to step into her shoes and stole a glance at his watch.

“Thank you, we need to get downstairs,” she handed him the room key and his phone, leaving her own hands free with no need for a bag or money.

She took one last look in the full length mirror by the door, side by side.

“Not bad, Cartwright.” She smiled.

He held out his arm for her to take.

“None of that, we can't fuck this up because you got pissed and called me Cartwright.”

“You're right, I can imagine what Lamb would say to that. Come on then, my lovely husband,” she stressed with a giggle. “Let's go and pretend we're not total dickheads with no friends.”

Sid and River descended the grand staircase together.

The smooth oak steps curved elegantly towards the expansive foyer, magnifying the sound of chatter and the clink of glasses from the open doors of the main hall, the soft glow of candlelight spilled out onto the stone floor.

Sid couldn't help but feel a flutter of anticipation as they prepared to enter the reception. The luxury and opulence of the surroundings made her feel a little giddy, she was excited to get her hands on her ‘colleagues’ outside of work to try and bring her undercover mission to an end. Working at Slough House, she hadn't had much opportunity to work in such beautiful surroundings, but she couldn't deny she missed the place, and its occupants.

The walls were adorned with intricate Italian artworks, the floors were made of gleaming hardwood, and the high ceiling was painted with the image of a beautiful blue sky.

They reached the grand foyer, where the rest of Sid's co-workers were mingling and chatting, glasses of wine in hand. The atmosphere was warm and welcoming, it was clear that Warwick worked his team hard, and that this was their reward.

He'd spared no expense on hiring the whole hotel for their sole use. Everything screamed exclusivity. Warwick had gone all out, the elegant decor, the glittering lights, the sound of laughter and clinking glasses - all of it combined to create an atmosphere of unbridled extravagance and luxury.

"Oh you look beautiful!" Stella greeted them immediately. She and Diego looked straight off a designer runway. A picture perfect couple, they stood, as usual, with Jonty and Sam.

“Oh, this old thing!” Sid swished the skirt. “This is incredible,” she gestured to Stella's jumpsuit.

“Thanks,” she grinned, “my namesake, Stella McCartney. Yours?”

Sid froze. She wasn't even sure if her dress was designer, she'd just picked it out.

“She's got no idea,” River filled in, “I saw it and thought of her.”

“God, that's so fucking cute,” Stella farmed. “As if I could trust D to pick anything out for me!”

“I pick the swimwear,” Diego winked, reaching for Stella who blushed.

“Babe!” Dilly squealed from across the room, “you look lush!”

“Thanks Dil, you too.” Sid let out a laugh as she was embraced by Dilly, who looked like she was going to burst out of her pink taffeta dress at any moment. River couldn't help but smile at the sight, his eyes scanning the room for Warwick, who was nowhere to be seen.

As the drinks reception wore on, the smaller groups of people started to join into a much larger group, the room filling with the hum of loud conversation.

Everyone was eager to compliment each other's outfits and catch up with each other, as if they hadn't spent the whole day together already.

River and Sid found themselves chatting with different people, the room becoming almost stifling with the mix of laughter, chatter, and the clinking of glasses.

River didn't leave Sid's side, his hand rested on her hip. He occasionally pulled her a little closer, and to the other unsuspecting guests, looked utterly in love with her.

Waiters brought around canapés and drinks galore, they were careful to give the impression that they were drinking as much as everyone else without actually doing so.

River reached out and picked a canapé from a passing waiter's tray, holding it out for Sid. He kept his eyes on her, a hint of affectionate playfulness in his gaze.

She tilted her head slightly to one side, only enough for him to notice, and narrowed her eyes at his suggestion.

He brought the canapé ever closer to her mouth, making it increasingly difficult for her to avoid. Finally, she had no choice but to open her mouth, and he gently placed the food inside.

As he placed the canapé against her lips, his thumb brushed against her lower lip, sending a shiver down her spine. The intimacy of the gesture was not lost on them, nor on any potential observer.

Sid's heart pounded in her chest as she released his thumb with a slight pop.

"Do that again, and I'll bite you," she whispered, covering her threat with a smile.

River chuckled at her warning. He leaned closer, his voice a low whisper against her ear. "Be careful," he replied, "I might be into that.”

"Come on you two, everyone's dancing!" Amber called out. River and Sid both turned towards her voice, seeing her standing nearby with a glass of champagne in her hand. Her skintight gold gown made it seem as if she was actually covered in melted gold, a striking sight under the bright lights of the hotel lobby.

"Looks like we've been summoned," River murmured, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Can't ignore the boss's wife," Sid agreed.

She allowed herself to be led to the dancefloor, a mix of excitement and trepidation running through her. The others were already dancing to the blaring music, the lobby had transformed into a make-shift dance floor.

The transition from soft classical music to Italian pop was surprising, and it appeared the shift had invigorated her colleagues, as they were now dancing with enthusiasm and energy. River looked down at Sid, his eyes gleaming, "Feeling up for some Italian pop, princess?”

As the songs played on, Sid found herself becoming increasingly more relaxed, her body moving naturally to the rhythm of the music. The beat was infectious and she couldn't help but get swept up in the energy of the crowd.

Sid couldn't help but notice as she danced, that River had moved to the side of the makeshift dance floor, standing amongst a small group of her male co-workers.

They appeared to have accepted the situation, resigned to letting their partners turn the hotel into a nightclub. He was in close conversation with Jonty, Diego and Hassan as they watched Sid dancing with Sam, Stella and Priya.

As the music shifted to a slower rhythm, Sam shed his suit jacket and with a grin, grabbed Jonty by the hand and pulled him onto the dance floor. The sudden movement took Jonty by surprise, but he couldn't help but laugh and follow Sam's lead.

Sid went to take her opportunity to stop dancing and made a beeline for River. As they met in the middle, he placed a possessive hand on her hip and pulled her in close, their bodies falling into a slow, intimate dance.

As they danced, River placed a gentle kiss on her bare shoulder, pulling her closer so he could speak into her ear. "Jonty's hiding something," he murmured, his voice low and almost lost amidst the music. Sid leaned closer, her ear almost touching his lips as she strained to catch his words.

Sid nodded in acknowledgment, her skin tingling as River's hand caressed the small of her bare back.

"Also haven't seen much of Warwick tonight," he continued.

"True," she agreed, her eyes scanning the room as if searching for Warwick, "he's been pretty much MIA.”

As their bodies moved in time with the music, Sid's fingers linked around River's neck, pulling them closer together. The closeness allowed the couple a rare moment to speak intimately, shielded from the chatter and dance of the crowd around them.

River lowered his head to speak to Sid, their bodies intertwined in the slow dance.

"We should try to get time with the others tomorrow, the ones we haven't spent much time with yet,” he suggested.

Their bodies swayed to the music, Sid responded in a hushed tone, "I'm going on a run with Angela and Lilly in the morning. That's another two off the list," she said, her fingers absentmindedly tracing small circles on the back of River's neck.

River chuckled at her declaration of a morning run. "Good," he agreed, "I'd rather watch than join you on that run." He gently teased her with a grin, his hand moving lower down her back, the touch a little less than gentlemanly.

She leaned up to whisper in his ear. "You're doing a very good job so far, I could almost believe that this is what 'boyfriend' River is like.”

River chuckled appreciatively, the warmth of her breath against his ear sending a shiver down his spine. "Keep up the sweet talk and I might start believing it myself," he quipped playfully, pulling her even closer as the song drew to a close.

Dilly and Tom stepped toward them, looking flushed and a bit out of breath from dancing.

"Nightcap?" Dilly asked, a wide smile on her face.

"Sure," Sid agreed instantly. The group had slowly started to disperse, and the night was now winding down.

The waiter circulated with the tray of grappa, and those still standing eagerly took a glass each. River looked at Tom and raised his glass.

"Distillery tomorrow," he reminded them of the group's planned visit.

Tom chimed in, agreeing wholeheartedly, "I think we'll need a bit of a sleep before the black-tie dinner tomorrow night. We're going to be sloshed.”

"I need sleep now," Dilly lay her head on Sid's shoulder and yawned, looking as though she could fall asleep on the spot.

"I'm with you," Sid added, stifling a yawn herself, "I need sleep too.”

River placed his empty glass down on a nearby table and turned his attention to Sid. "Come on, sleepy beauty," he teased affectionately. "Time to head back to the room.”

"Night babe, enjoy your run.” Dilly giggled as Tom pulled her to her feet.

"Goodnight, guys," Sid replied with a warm smile, giving Dilly a fond kiss on the cheek.

River, ever the helpful partner, wrapped an arm around Sid's waist as they prepared to head back to their room.

Once back in their room, Sid shed her shoes and began the frustrating search to find the zip on the back of her dress. She twisted and contorted, trying to reach the fastening.

While she struggled, River appeared behind her, gently brushing her hands aside as he took over the task.

The zip slid down effortlessly, and he then leaned in as if to place a soft kiss on the nape of her neck. He stopped himself at the last moment, remembering that they were alone, the act could be dropped. "Sorted," he murmured, catching her eye in their shared reflection.

"Thanks," she said, hushed.

"You're welcome," he replied quietly, watching her as she held the dress to her body and headed into the bathroom to change.

As they took turns in using the bathroom to change for the night, Sid took advantage of the moment and arranged a wall of pillows in the center of the bed, creating a physical barrier between their sides.

When River emerged from the bathroom, he noticed the pillow wall and raised an eyebrow at Sid.

"Seriously?" he questioned, a playful grin on his face.

Sid responded with a casual shrug.

"Just being prepared. You could be a snuggler for all I know.”

“Hmm, you never know.”

"I think we're getting somewhere. It's going pretty well so far."

In the dark, surrounded by silence, Sid's whisper hung in the air, her voice tinged with both relief and optimism.

"Are we?" River asked, his voice a soft murmur. He reached out and found her hand, their fingers intertwining. "I think you're really good at this," he said quietly, his tone betraying a glimmer of satisfaction and something more.

"Goodnight River," Sid's reply came softly through the darkness.

"Goodnight Sid," River echoed, his hand still holding hers.

In the quiet solitude of the hotel room, they both lay silently, they held onto each other's hands, even as the night slowly crept in and claimed them both in the embrace of slumber.

CHAPTER 2

#river cartwright #slow horses #jack lowden #river cartwright x sid baker #river x sid #sid baker #slow horses fanfic

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zhounauts · 1 year ago

Text

the countess doesn't give a shit ; l.heeseung x f!reader // y.jungwon x f!reader

a/n the long awaited part two that i promised like months ago…it’s finally here !! going to disappear again after this , but i gotta work on my other stories. ..

warnings: cursing, not proof read

part one

HEESEUNG SCOFFS, AND THEN HE BURSTS OUT LAUGHING “you don’t care? i find that out to believe y/n. were you not the one who was most openly and actively against sora? were you not the one constantly refusing all her invitations before? why the change of heart now?” unfortunately for heeseung you had stopped listening ten words ago, and you were now snacking on fruit gummies your overworked chef had made you.

“pardon me, your highness could you repeat that?” you ask, the gummy dissolving in your mouth. you hear rina stumble into faye in the background. heeseung narrows his eyes as you chew on another gummy.

“what exactly are you plotting now, y/n?” he seethes.

“what i’m going to eat for dinner?” you respond with full seriousness. heeseung gives you an incredulous look.

“MY LADY!”

“i know you’re plotting something. you’re going to this party to humiliate sora am i right? and right now you’re going to act all innocent and uninterested so i will start to—”

“wow you’re a really big overthinker, anyone ever told you that?” you ask, “you’re really mistake your highness. i’m not plotting anything and don’t care about you and sora. you guys can go make out and get married for all i care,”

“i can’t deal with you any longer,” heeseung mutters, “if i hear one word about you acting up at the tea party i will not be afraid to punish you,”

“m’kay,” you answer, turning around, “rina, faye lets finished getting ready,”

“right away m’lady!” faye exclaims, as heeseung makes his way out of your room. you can’t help the anger that boils through you before you take one last glance.

“countess! i’m so glad that you are here,” sora says, bowing. you give her a polite smile and nod.

“thank you for your invite saintess,”

“of course!” she exclaims happily, “i hope the tea and snacks are all to your liking, i planned everything carefully when i caught notice your attendance. i was scared what i originally planned would not be to your delicate taste. please enjoy the party,”

“yes of course,” you answer, smiling and eye twitching. you didn’t have any energy to deal with her passive, fake niceness.

as soon as she turns around your face goes blank with boredom. you quite literally STILL did not know all the nefarious, devious acts the original countess had committed, but by the way everyone avoided you it was pretty obvious that what you did was. . .well nefarious and devious?

“god, i wish i could just impale myself and go back home already. . .” you mutter underneath your breath.

“i’ll impale you right now then, don’t worry,” an ominous voice hisses.

“what the f-”

“you thought you got rid of me?!”

“who are you?,” you ask, before you pause and sigh, “oh, crazy writer bitch,”

“what did you just call me!? i’ll eliminate you! eliminate!” she screeches.

“yeah okay do that,” you answer, rolling your eyes.

“while you had fun dilly dallying around ruining MY story” she starts, “hey where the fuck are you going?!”

“to get food,” you answer, walking away from the author and towards the table of pastries.

“get back here!” the author huffs angrily, hurriedly following after you.

“will you leave already? i’ll call the guards,”

“you think you can boss me around!? this is my story”

“GUARDS!” you scream, “oh no! i’m uhm. . .being harassed! nooooooooo boohoo,” you watch as the knights from the door run towards you, quickly grabbing the author.

“YOU BITCH! YOU CAN’T TAKE ME AWAY AGAIN! UNHAND ME YOU UNIMPORTANT SIDE NPC CHARACTERS!” you can only watch in amusement as the author screams. your amusement is VERY much cut short however when she for some reason has a burst of ungodly strength and tackles you.

“HOLY—”

“ruin the story i dare you! just you wait, there will be consequences!” she hisses, a flash of craziness in her eyes “the story has to be completed or else—”

“get her off the countess!” a guard calls, and with that the author’s easily hauled off you, as you stare at her in confusion.

“wait! wait! finish your—” but it’s too late, as the guards drag her away from the party and guards surround you, asking you questions. you don’t listen to anything they say, as you furrow your brows, trying to decipher the author’s message.

after the rabid authors attack, you had excused yourself from the party and headed to the courtyard to collect your thoughts. you thought the author was just crazy and obsessive about the story being completed the way she wrote it, but with her outburst you could tell there was something deeper.

“but what. . .?” you mutter. you sigh, burying your face into your arms. even though in this life you were rich and had privileges you used to wish for, it didn’t take away from the fact that you missed your family, your friends, and heck even your math teacher. it was lonely in this world, especially with the vendetta everyone had against you because of sora and heeseung. heeseung. the name ignites a rage that you had been supressing and you can’t help but rip up a patch of grass and yeet it.

“that stupid prince! who the hell does he think he is? bursting into my room accusing me of so much shit even though its been months since i’ve done anything! i hope he falls off his fucking stupid ass horse and onto his—” your tirade’s cut off by a laugh and you whip your head around at an ungodly speed. “who’s there?”

“no, no, keep going! this is really funny to listen to,” the voice answers, “I don’t think i’ve ever heard anyone who hated his royal highness, handsome and kind prince heeseung,”

“kind?” you scoff, “he can’t seem to leave me alone,”

“you are countess y/n, no?”

“that’s me, who are you?”

“let’s not worry about that,” the person answers.

“what are you, a wanted criminal?”

“. . .”

“you are!?” you ask excited.

“what??? no! of course not i was just joking!” the voice hastily answers before muttering, “why would you even be excited about that. . .” theres comfortable silence between the two of you as you rebury yourself in your arms. “the prince treats you badly?”

“yes!” you start, “no, well i don’t— yeah. i guess so. i get it, i did stuff back then to sora his little babe or whatever but the past five months, i’ve been leaving him alone! i know that still won’t make up for everything, but he can’t even just. . .treat me atleast slightly politely? it’s frustrating, i have no one to talk to except for my maids and chef mingyu, and i just want to go home,”

“where is home?” the voice asks.

“. . .i don’t know,” you answer truthfully. home was your room back in your own house, with your dad bothering you to practice piano, your mom hovering around your room while you study, and your brother randomly appearing every two hours to remind you of his existence. home was with your friends in school, giggling obnoxiously, changing routes to chase guys, and meeting up at set times in the bathrooms. home certainly wasn’t countess yue’s parents, and it definitely was not this castle.

“well people build their own homes all the time,” the voice says, “if they can you can to,”. you laugh.

“are you some wise old man?”

“uh- excuse me!? i’m 19!” you laugh again.

“no, really, who are you?” the voice hesitates.

“. . . yang jungwon,”

“thanks jungwon,” you hum, “when can i see you again?”

“i’d get my ass beat, i’m not supposed to be here” he answers, “i’m a mage at the research tower,”

“i didn’t ask that,” you reply teasingly.

“well. . .i guess i could shoot you a message orb. . .” he grumbles. you giggle, truly happy for the first time in awhile.

“i’ll be waiting,"

taglist: @k-films , @soobincantswim

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qvrcll · 1 year ago

Text

fluff, inclined towards book coryo + possessive themes

unsuspecting, is how your jostling romance with coriolanus snow would start. how anything would start. romantic relationships weren’t prohibited per se, but were frowned upon. peacekeeper training was for strengthening the nation and the arms that would carry it across the years, not to dilly dally between the stretches of grins and a swipe of a kiss. and knowing the stickler for rules that coriolanus was, he would stop at nothing to keep it that way.

foolish, foolish coriolanus. for who could have thought that the newest recruit could be up for debate. that you would be a change of heart? sure - unarguably so. he sees you first in the night, sidling into the cabin when everything else falls hush. and he’d been having nightmares, more so than usual, of doctor gaul and her endless menageries of sickly bright snakes, their sweeping tongues of venom, so it isn’t funny that he’d been awake for a smidge of the night. when he swipes a glance from atop his bunk, it’s not the crack of another boring recruit that he makes out in the cold nighttude. no, you’re sweet faced and hurling a duffle-bag against your share of the bunk. right beneath his. strange. he’s never seen you before. late enrolment? a stirred-up schedule? something other?

and why should he care? as enticing as you are, he is far from accustomed to this place. a boring sort of repulsion has begun to haunt his role in his own life and he’s grown hateful of almost everything in a manner that is almost pathetic. but, hey, you’re going to rip off your arm trying to sling that thing over your bed at this rate. and you’re making a racket, something so loud that he may as well lay in the ambience of your failures. plus, you have piqued his interest. with a swift whorl of his ankles, he lands on two wobbly knees and wordlessly grabs the duffle strap you’re wrestling with, “need help with that?”

when you let out an embarrassed smile, and agree, it’s a polite scattering that you commit to when he helps you - a mere stranger - unpack. keep your belongings in stationed lockers. make the bed and fist the sheets between the corners. between the humiliating exchange (more-so on your end) you exchange names. explain that you’d been freshly relieved from your life in the districts and sent here as a way to harbour cash for folk back home. not necessarily family, but known folk. people you hold dear. and coriolanus cannot despise the reasoning, with his own reason of keeping the snows afloat back in the capitol. so, a mutual understanding perches from there on and he tests the syllables of your name with sticky interest when you put your bodies to rest.

and that’s it, right? except, it’s not. he seeks you out more. prideful as he is, coriolanus is a lonely man. even more, now that he’d been tossed apart from a life he knew best, like a fawn in the wild. at lunch, he sits ahead of you and makes conversation despite the slobber on his plate. at training, he offers incentive when your knees buck during drills. because this is just a simple friendship and he enjoys you like the sun. a friendship that doesn’t feel so forced and guarded as the ones he has loathed.

“quick,” you whisper all too loudly at him once, when you’d lingered outside of your parameter of patrol, bound to be in trouble with the head peacekeeper, “if we’re lucky, we’ll sneak in through some window?”

the thing had been phrased as a question and it only made coriolanus more antsy. what’s worse to handle, a snow strewn to the edges of peacekeeper training as an alternative to expulsion or being caught within in, slacking and spending too much of a time with his fellow bunkmate? his fingers are messy, slippery, against his sides when the two of you are hounded and hoarded into the office of the said headpeacekeeper. is this it, he thinks, my brilliant plan of return just squeezing into a failure? until, he hears your voice boiling at his side.

“it was my fault,” your voice trembles, but is forthright in your admission, “it was my idea. i should have known better.”

even as the two of you are equally subject to the same punishment (kitchen work and twice the normal borders) in the flimsy heat, he cannot brush the thought of you taking the fall for him in his head. it should’ve hit as an insult, especially as it was accustomed in his nature to see it as such, but none of it comes. just a funny feeling as he bumps his shoulder into yours with a burst of shared laughter.

soon, he begins to feel important. wanted. a thing close to your heart when your friendship grows with his days as a new peacekeeper. a new occupation, a new change of heart. and you have long since stuck your hand into his chest and held his beating heart with ten curling fingers. a real friend. someone to accompany him on long, riveting walks. share silences with. fondle the mutual knowing of caring for people back at home with no shame strung with it. and so, it continues, this funny feeling.

“here,” you let up one day, passing a bag of ice cubes his way, swathed in a plastic bag, “keeps the skin cool.”

coriolanus accepts it with open hands - the heat has began to batter ruthlessly on everything he has ever known and something cool to stow away the burn it brings only sounds natural. as he slathers the cool thing all over himself, he spots you watching him. softly, not like the way a hawk does. less imposing and almost comical. sweet. god, when had he burned all his edges into soft corners?

“i’d say that staring is rude, but you’re making me laugh,” he chuckles between his palm, when he folds the bag back towards you. when you flush toward to grab it, your fingers brush softly. but he feels the wake of it in his belly. like bile but pleasant. eating away at his own organs like a bloody parasite. but he ignores it. classic. he cocks his head and minds the sun, “are you going to join us and head down to the hob this week?”

he eyes the drip of water as it curls into your neck and trails beneath your clothes, and when you glance back around him, he breaks his sight away to the rock beneath his boot. shit, why was he staring?

“probably will. i need it. you’ll be there, right?” and coriolanus feels airy, mushy, when you call for his presence to be the impressionable factor to bring you along. he doesn’t understand it, this feeling - he merely sits with it in his hands, much like the ice cubes. assumes that he’s never had this much pleasure within a friendship, yes, that must be it. so, he nods, like it was a brilliant thing to be half burnt and swelling under the sun with you, “of course.”

and then, it spirals, as it always does. he begins to grow jealous of the bunk mates who seek you out like he does. who don his place at the dinner table as theirs. who manage to claw a laugh from you the way he does. and he doesn’t understand. doesn’t understand the ugly, tilting feeling of his heart kissing the skin of his chest whenever you choose him above all things else, spot him in the mess of a crowd. never does, but will.

and that happens at the hob. when all of your cabin mates have gathered around the make-shift stools and chairs you’ve managed to grab, the trip blends in with alcohol. white liquor, they call it. and things will begin to build from thereon. it builds when coriolanus watches you over the rim of his cup when you cough after your shot, all hot cheeks and laughs when someone pats your back. it builds when you’re one too many bodies away from him, smashed between people you don’t even know, people that are not him. it builds when he can’t tell if it’s the glow from the dingy lights or if you’ve grown a halo, or exuding brighter than anything here.

and then it hits him. he’s fallen in love, so hard that he cannot stop to breathe or swallow the thick saliva that builds. this can’t be happening to him. to stupid and dumb-struck coriolanus snow, peacekeeper in training that has just broken code and gone awry with a romance he has been chasing with no sense.

he needs to squash it. this feeling. but how can he? when you cross across the space and reach him with inviting arms, hailing a smile in his direction like the world will tear with your gratitude stitched within it? when you’re pressing the side of your face into his with unmitigated glee? when you’re so close that he can smell you, feel you, wring your friendship so tight that your warmness is all that will come to greet him? no, no, he must—

and when he rips away from you, tells you he needs to catch some air because he cannot stomach the liquor in such heat, he curses when you follow in your confusion. even when he assures you he’s fine, just needs a minute, you’re tight on his heels. and when he throws a look over his shoulder, you’re wordlessly trailing still, like it is a thing to be stuck at the hip with him. and it gets to the point of bursting - he’s trying, is he not? to keep the two of you in the game. as modest peacekeepers. to run by the rules you’ve gotten by. so, he shuts your shoulders into the smash of a rock wall behind you, which wakes you up efficiently, keeps you in place. confusion still riddled in your eyes, but no harm. no repulsion. he almost hates you for it.

and he bursts — “i like you. okay? no, not like, love you. have for a while. and it’s gotten bad. i know you’ll hate me for it,” he breathes, a broken sound mixing with it, “please, please, do not make this hard. i’m trying. just—“ and… and you’re kissing him?

the kiss is not harsh or insulting. not something intruding. but he inhales sharply when you do it anyway, breathing you in like a drug, trying to commit the little noises you make to memory. try to remember you, in all the little pushes you allow and the plush of your lips, in case this is all an illusion. he kisses you in such a way that his lips run hot and his body shakes, rattles, in its frame, takes a minute to gather you all up in his arms.

“in what world do you think i don’t think the same, coryo?” you smile, fiddling with his biceps as you kiss the edge of his mouth till its twitching with a soft grin of his own.

“but the base… our duty—“

“between you and duty, you think i give a shit?,” his heart throbs at his importance and his hands tighten along your hip line, “a secret is a secret. if you want it to be.”

and when you move you mouth, grow heavy and hot in his hands as his tongue swipes into the little crack of the lips he’s grown to taste, there it is again. that very funny feeling. a thing he’s made peace between all his scuffle; love, undecidedly.

#coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus x y/n #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #tbosas x reader

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