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Fic: Tracy Seaside Orchard and Farm - Epilogue
Summary: Alternate Universe. Gordon is a farmer. And he seems to have nothing to do with International Rescue. Now on AO3! Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Family. *Warnings for previous chapters: phobias and panic attacks*
Prologue here
Chapter 1: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Ao3
Chapter 2: Part 4 | Part 5 | AO3
Chapter 3: Part 6 | Part 7 | Ao3
Chapter 4: Part 8 | Part 9 | Ao3
Chapter 5: Part 10 | Part 11 | Ao3
Chapter 6 Part 12 | Ao3
Chapter 7: Part 13 | Ao3
Chapter 8: Part 14 | Ao3
Chapter 9: Part 15 | Ao3
Chapter 10: Part 16 | Part 17 | Ao3
Epilogue: You are Here | Ao3
Tracy Seaside -the playlist here
A/N: Do me a favor and make sure you are caught up, as I did a lot of writing the past few days. I will admit, finishing this one is a special sadness.
*****
Epilogue
As with the cadence of the tide, time ticked on, the seasons changed, and fall became winter on one side of the world while spring became summer on the other. Christmas came, went, and the folks at Tracy Seaside started their year growing anew, planting tiny seedlings into moist soil at high humidity in the greenhouses to get them started before transplanting them into the ground.
His brothers were there through all of it, if not directly during their planned visits, at least in spirit as they continued to bridge the gaps that the years had created. With Gordon and Virgil’s reconciliation, the tenuous bonds he and his siblings had been scrambling to keep from fraying over time were reforged, rebound and continued to grow strong. As strong as the grappling cables of Thunderbird 2 with Virgil’s voice added among their chorus.
In February, Everett and Scraps planned the surprise birthday of the century, and the speculator world went wild, imagining where Earth’s four most heroic and eligible bachelors could possibly be on Valentine’s Day, and more importantly - who with? Gordon was, of course, none the wiser, as Scraps knew her way around keeping him occupied and away from news articles that would let the cat out of the bag. It was an easy sell when Grandma had already promised to visit and had expressed the desire to make him a three tier birthday cake. Well, he didn’t leave his kitchen for the need to “supervise” his grandmother, and by the time the two made it across the estate to Scraps’ home where the rest of the Tracy’s were waiting, he was still wearing his baking apron and covered from head to foot in flour, but with one edible birthday cake.
Come spring, they added two new hens to their flock and broke ground on a new enclosure and fenced-in pasture for their future plan to bring in goats and sheep.
There were many exciting changes around the corner, and Gordon looked forward to the longer days, the additional sun in his heart, the flutter of new life and new beginnings, this time with the tether to his brothers stronger than it had ever been.
Yet one thing remained looming over him. The SOS.
He was among the first to know about the possibility that their father was still alive, still out there somewhere, after Scott (in an iR submersible pod) retrieved first Brains’ old robot and then never-before-seen footage of the explosion from the Hood’s escape capsule. It was both a thrilling and terrifying truth.
Foundation shifting.
It colored everything, knowing that for all the home-growing he did, his father likely was somewhere out there, maybe managing to make food to sustain himself. For all the times he felt distant and disconnected from his family, his father was further. What were miles in comparison to lightyears?
He watched his brothers fret, obsess, and make plans.
It was a pleasant day in April when Scott pulled himself away from the technology on the Island to sit down with him and explain what searching for their father would involve: all of the Thunderbirds, and all of his brothers to pilot them.
He knew terror, he knew fear, and they were palpable in his ears as he processed Scott's words. But there was no greater dread than the heart-dropping realization that this mission would be risking the lives of his whole family, that in a moment, they could all leave the atmosphere and he may never hear from them again and would never know what happened if that were the case.
But if… if on a chance they succeeded, they could have Dad back.
He wasn’t sure he had the strength to lose his family again. For a chance.
Gordon talked to Grandma for a long time that night. About her memories of her son, about his brothers, about what it meant to be the ones left behind, and what- what they would do if the worst were to happen. Neither of them closed the call feeling better, per se, but after airing their fears, it helped to know they were not alone in their grief.
But there was also hope.
And Tmtrust in Brain’s workmanship to protect his family like he'd always done, confidence in his brothers’ abilities, and belief in that stubborn Tracy tenacity to never give up.
They promised to return, and so it was with faith in that promise that Gordon waited for news.
~*~
On the day of launch, minutes before countdown, Virgil sat on the floor and against the wall of the Zero-XL to callup Gordon. There was barely a second for a breath before Gordon accepted the call, and it was apparent he was wide awake despite the dark on his side of the world.
“Hey,” Virgil whispered, wearing his iR blues.
"Hey " The quiet sound of Gordon's voice came through with with a low, content murmuring in the background. It was the voice he used when speaking to his animals, words disguised as a coo.
“Are you in the coop?” Virgil's lips curled into a light smile Despite the weight of their task sitting heavily on his shoulders, the coop was a place of calm. “Is my girl there?”
Gordon’s smile twitched, but it was as if it hurt to muster. “Sue me”
He recognized now that Gordon was sitting against the back wall of the coop, and wearing a long sleeve flannel. Some of the chickens must have been resting in his lap. As he shifted to pick up Ginger to show her to Virgil, Mocha gave a small squawk of displeasure at the movement and jumped up to his shoulder.
“Gordon” - brown eyes met brown - “we’re going to bring him home.”
For a moment Gordon considered him, continuing to pet the soft feathers on Ginger’s back while his face broke into a number of expressions before he schooled it back into calm.
“Well, yeah,” he said. “You’ve promised my girls to swing by when you get back.”
“True. But, Gordon.” He waited until Gordon looked back up at him, eyes prickling. “I’m promising you. We’ll all come home.”
~*~
There was a moment, deep in the Oort cloud, after Alan returned and they suddenly lost communications with Scott, that Virgil truly thought he’d have to tell his family that they’d failed. He’d have to break his grandmother’s heart at the loss of her son… again. And Scott… his own heart was thundering in his chest at his worry for their eldest brother, wondering how he could possibly tell Gordon. Wondering if Gordon would ever forgive him for losing their brother in the cold void of space. Eyes wide with terror, he found himself looking to John for answers.
And then they found lifesigns. Two of them.
There was business to be done after that. The med bay to ready, the Zero-XL to reassemble. Home to get to. In the deep vastness of space, they reunited with their father, and the back of Virgil’s head tingled where his father’s hand had found stability within their embrace.
It caught up to him much later, what it would have meant if the Hood had managed to leave them stranded in deep space. So quickly they had to act to halt the T-drive and to stop him, that Virgil didn’t have the time to think about just how close they were to never making it home and what that would’ve done to his brother and their grandmother.
He secured their father’s straps for the return journey home, trying hard to find the balance between keeping him secure and taking extra care not to pull too tightly around the tender areas of his body.
His father leaned towards him to garner his attention.
“Virgil?” His voice croaked with lack of use. “I need to know. Where’s your brother?” The grey in his father’s eyes swirled with the storm of the unknown. “Where’s Gordon?”
“He’s safe,” Virgil assured him, knowing how their number might have looked to their father. It was a long story to tell and not Virgil's to do so. “Funny you should ask though. I know a rather good healing retreat that would love to have you.”
“Son, I’m going to be ok.”
“I know, Dad.” He smiled at him warmly. “We all are."
The End 🐓
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GENSHIN MEN courting you.
WARNING: This is a Filipino AU set in the Spanish Colonization period, so basically all of these are inspired by Filipino courting rituals.
Contains Diluc, Kaeya, Neuvilette, and Wriothesley (some of these men are hand picked because of the languages on the banner on top tehee.), fem!reader, age gap.
Diluc Ragnvindr (Manileño)
Being the son of a businessman, he was the highest regarded bachelor in all of Manila being that he was also rather good looking.
This man is not a big fan of romanticism and would often avoid it like the plague but his guilty pleasure was to read books in the romantic genre hidden away in the depths of his library, his trips to the book store was more often than usual and many thought that he's gone book crazy but that was not the case however.
You.
You were the reason that he's now the book shop's loyal patron, you were just a simple woman from another business oriented family. You were the typical Maria Clara to the spectators eyes, quiet and modest though that was not Diluc saw.
You were ambitious and rather messy at times but that's what he loved about you, your comfortability with someone like him made him feel that he actually was able to make friends of his own that his father had not told him to befriend for the sake of business.
That's when he started to grow feelings for you.
He was still stoic and expressionless at times but whenever he sees you, his ears visibly go red under his luscious red locks.
With the encouragement of his mother and the head maid of his estate, he mustered up the bravery in his entire blood line to go to your home with the intent of asking for your father's blessing to court you.
He was shocked to see that there were other men who were after you; from a Mestizo to a Sangley, they were all there waiting for your sweet yes.
But he had an advantage that didn't have; they didn't know you the way he did.
It started from flowers to love letters, he did everything that he learnt from the romance books he had read and basically copied every single gentleman in the books that women loved.
His very next move was to bring you by the lake that he had remembered that you used to go to as a little girl, it was a bit muddy though, ruining yours and his shoes but it didn't matter as he saw that you were obviously over the moon to see a childhood place again still intact.
He saw something that your other suitors weren't able to see nor willing to, they painted you as this innocent flower that needed corruption from them but to him— you were the most adventurous and the bravest girl he's ever seen.
"Yes." You laughed.
He raised a brow, "Yes what, binibini?" he asked.
"I want to be yours..."
Those very words made his heart race as if he just ran from his house to the nearest farm in the concrete city of Manila, he couldn't believe that his awkward attempts to act out the romanticism of men in books that women seem to love had worked.
"You're pulling on my leg..." He breathed out only to be wronged by her shaking her head.
And just like that, he ran to you and lifted you into the air. The adrenaline causing the two of you to fall into the mud, it was sticky and wet but it didn't matter to him even if his ivory white blouse that his maids spent hours on to perfect was ruined because his heart was now owned by the most perfect woman he could ever think of.
"So... what should we call each other?" He asked.
Kaeya Alberich (Español)
Ever since he has set foot in the Philippines with his father who governed the Philippines in the reign of the Spaniards he has never felt the sense of nervousness, back in Madrid, he had an image to uphold as a government official's son but now he can just let loose.
His move to the Philippines was the very start of his rebellion, he now probably felt like a normal boy like he dreamt of back in Spain but his father wasn't having it.
So to set him straight, he put Kaeya in the supervision of a prayle.
The first mass where he served as the priest's assistant he managed to oversee the entire service from the elevated stage where statues of saints and Jesus were all shown in the altar made of wood and gold. One of them was you, a really pretty Filipina who was praying religiously and singing alongside the child choir.
After the mass, he was about to gather his friend of rebellious teens until he was stopped and called upon the priest he's under.
He mustered up his most innocent boy smile until he saw you approaching, turns out that you were the goddaughter of the priest and he wanted Kaeya and her to be friends since she was the best candidate of friends that could place a good influence on him.
He was beyond bored, accompanying you and other nuns and worshippers as you all prayed to the virgin Mary. There he realized that convincing you to join him to the dark side was a hard task to do, you weren't that innocent but you were the most pure and truest girl he's ever met.
Sometimes you were sassy and very witty but he felt as if you really cared for him despite just being friends with Kaeya so that his father won't worry about him while he's away, with you he learned a lot of things, mainly that he didn't need to rebel to be free.
Most of the things he did was disobeying his father but it didn't do him any good at all, with his friends he learned to become a womanizer and to drink at a very young age. But it was weird to admit that you managed to fix him.
From table manners to memorising the entire prayers in the book in Latin, he learned it all from you. You were the only friend that his father approved of however, despite being a girl and potentially seeing his son in a romantic way not that he minded having you as a daughter in law.
Kaeya soon blossomed feelings for you, it started from helping around the church like you did and almost took your job from you.
He was still cheeky as ever, his teenager instincts causing him to want to create discord but you manage to dim it down with a simple glance.
Everyone loved your pairing, almost every single one encouraged you and Kaeya to start dating already and with the blessing of his father and your father, he began to do the cheesiest things.
You were confused if whether he was doing this to sway you or just flat out piss you off.
One night, you were sleeping peacefully until you heard something from the open window of your room. Groggily heading your way there you saw Kaeya and his goons of friends who some you recognized to be the sons of the farmers in your father's hacienda.
"This is for you, cariño..." Kaeya and his poor ability to sway women with his voice began to sing you a popular Spanish love song, he was hurting your ears but it amused you.
You stayed by the window sill and watched as he sang while his friends played a guitar or a drum made out of a bucket, they were all in tune with the original song but Kaeya seemed to have his own version.
"Oh my dearest... will you give this lonesome and poor little Spanish boy your sweetest yes?" He said so dramatically, maybe you should've banned him from reading Jane Austen or Shakespeare.
You laughed at his advances before giving him the shockest shock of his life, "Sure... why not?"
He looked like was about to faint when he heard those words come out of you, his friends celebrating behind him like a bunch of buffoons while he was still awestrucked.
"R-Really...?" He had to make sure.
"Yes, now come in and meet my mother before I change my mind." You've never seen this usually spoiled man who had everything handed to him with a snap of his fingers run so fast into your house and to your living room where he met your mother and your father, ready to welcome him as their son in law.
His father would actually faint if he found out about this though. Who would've thought that his son would be able to grab a girl like you?
Neuvilette (Mestizo)
Like Diluc, he was not one to meddle in with romance since he was very busy as a foreign law maker and businessman.
He only found himself in the ports of Manila due to a business pact with a bunch of Sangley's that offered a good proposal, he never thought of soulmates because to him it was just another myth for the hopeless romantics but it was quite ironic as he was in the territory of the romantics of the south eastern islands.
Soulmates were just plain bullshit until he saw you.
A young merchant who was heavily business minded, though it was the 1800s so no one took you that seriously and that's where your brother came in. He was the perfect bridge for Neuvilette to get to know you better, to get to know what fuels that fire that made you glowing like the blazing sun of the tropics.
Neuvilette manages to strike a deal with your brother however when he asks of you, his eyes widened— you were only twenty two while he was already in his late thirties.
A blossoming flower and a mature tree stump was not exactly the most ideal to some but just like nature, it works in different ways.
In one of his tours to the factory of your brother when he saw you show your amazing leadership and logical thinking skills, he admired every single bit of what you've presented to an oldie like him and you were really pretty on top of that.
You would look perfect together, two business driven minds and great skills in making connections— but you were too sweet for him.
You were still too young for his taste so he just waited for you to grow older, not that he expected some sort of miracle from the heavens that was until one day you yourself aroused the idea of secret feelings. You may have had caught up on how he longingly stares at you and how much he admired you so you wanted to know if he wanted an amazing advice for you.
The businessman was blushing hard, it didn't help that he was pale either.
Then he just pulled out a bouquet of flowers towards you, you accepted them of course due to how pretty they were but why did he give it to you?
"Can I... Can I court you, my lady?" Those very words started the long road to your sweet approval to finally call himself yours, he began to stop by the factory more and more to help around to make use of the time he had before he had to go back to France.
And when that dreaded day came, he didn't seem to forget you one bit. Every month your house was bombarded by boxes of love letters and other items that Neuvilette scoured the entirety of his motherland remembering that you liked them.
It took about three years before he finally got the time to go back to the Philippines to see how the joint business he had with your brother was going but mostly it was to see you of course, waiting by the dock was the familiar woman whose address he kept in his head like words engraved in stone.
Too much to his dismay he began to grow white hairs while you were just starting to greet wrinkles to your beautiful face. It made him insecure and made him think twice if he should greet you until you attacked him with a big hug when he was not looking, he took it as an opportunity to raise you up in the air to view that beauty he longed years for before hugging you back even tighter.
To the spectators, it was rather weird to see an unmarried duo be this intimate but it did not matter. Neuvilette didn't suffer two grueling years of courting her without even getting to see her in person just to be ashamed of showing his love for her.
"Sinasagot na kita..." trans: "I'm going to answer your question."
And just like the first time he showed his love for you, he grew pink and became more bashful by the minute.
He tucked your stray hair behind your ear before he leaned down to admire your beautiful eyes that he'd be lucky to see every single morning when he wakes up and night when he goes to sleep, he wanted you to be his and wanted his entire being to be in your hands, that was how much he loved you.
"And I'm not too young anymore..." Your witty comment making both of you chuckle before his laugh died down as he continued to look into your eyes.
"And I won't get tired of loving you everyday of the rest of my mortal life." He was about to continue his very sappy and sweet dialogue when your brother butted in with an all too familiar smile on his face, "So can I have my business partner now?"
Right, as much as you wanted to greet your suitor and now nobyo, your brother also was here to greet his business partner. Maybe you two will talk this out later on when you two have the time but for now, you were here for business.
Wriothesley (Probinsyano)
Being the eldest of his family, Wriothesley was sent to work at the Hacienda of a rich businessman near the city.
He didn't mind the work at all as he himself wanted to do something to help around the house in many ways possible, being family oriented and too busy raising his younger siblings, love wasn't exactly his first priority in mind until he saw you.
Your father was touring him and other new workers around the farm when he saw you passing by and conversing with your friends, so this was what all the craze was about city girls.
Every time you visited the farm while he tended to the horse stable he made sure to use that as a chance to converse with you, as you were in one of the shaded benches and reading he suddenly decided to approach you.
"Hi, ma'am... that's umm... a cool looking book" he started but he was a bit nervous, you seemed to be a smart collegiala while he can't even admit his illiteracy.
You couldn't fault him that he couldn't even read or write, after all, he came from a different life than you so you offered to teach him the basics and have him full access to your library.
He was a rather fast learner and you liked that as an impatient woman, that tutoring however slowly turned to a flirting session. You had to admit that Wriothesley was a sweet guy but he just wasn't your type though he was keen on changing that.
From a bag of apples he gathered from the apple orchard to a wheel of cheese that he and his fellow workers managed to create from the left over cow milk they harvested, he did everything he can and did what he knew to sway a woman just to change your mind.
You loved his attitude and insistent nature, you were starting to like him but you just wanted to play with him and pretended to not be so impressed until you surprised him with a surprise visit to your father.
The man was shaking like crazy when he met his boss in a more relaxed setting, it was just him and your father all alone.
"So you like my daughter?" Your father started.
"I- uh...—" Before he could even answer, your father cut him off.
"And I want you to be my son in law."
Wriothesley had to check twice if he heard his boss right, he had been working under him for about a couple years now and your father saw his hardwork around the farm and trying to woo you to accept his offer of love.
"But... you need to make that cheese you made again last time, it was delicious..." Now, with your father's blessing, he gathered his friends to create the same wheel of cheese for your father to further prove that he was serious with you but he did most of the hardwork as he was motivated by you.
While he was busy molding the cheese into shape, you decided to pay a visit and stopped by his friends who were watching him from afar after helping him gather excess milk from the cows.
"That man's head over heels for you, ma'am" one of them said.
You laughed, "I know... the feelings are mutual."
"Creativity comes from those who have a lot of responsibilities but refuses to do them" — Veritas Ratio, the philosopher, probably.
A/N: I am not swaying my feet while writing this, never. And I'm running out of ideas so I may make more Filipino AUs of characters I like to make fanfics of and will probably make text AUs because I'm getting obsessed with the ones on Tiktok.
Trans: Good morning, my love. Go and eat breakfast mwah!!!
#genshin impact#genshin impact fanfic#genshin headcanons#genshin men#genshin diluc#diluc x reader#kaeya alberich#kaeya x reader#neuvilette fanfic#genshin neuvillette#wriothesley#wriothesley x reader#filipino AU
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I keep thinking about a human arsenic blues AU where all the Yans have normal jobs. Like, I can totally see Beely as a crazy scientist, Hades as a mining tycoon or something, Cu a mercenary, ect and so on.
(Loki would just be a vagrant 🤦♀️)
WAIT I LIKE THIS, THIS JUST GOT ME THINKING!!!
okay, the gods obviously still rule the world, just not in the divine sense, but more in a 'they're part of the super elite 1% of the world who are super rich and own everything' kinda way
hades would definitely be a mining tycoon, and idk maybe he does some illegal human organ harvesting thing (cuz dead bodies; god of the dead, you get it). maybe he owns a lot of banks too (god of riches and all)
beelzebub definitely partakes in the organ harvesting stuff and other super creepy, super unethical, super illegal experimentation and shit. literally nothing he does in this au will be legal 😭
poseidon would probably still own the seas in this au tbh 💀 like maybe he owns a shit ton of business that are related to water; water treatment technologies, bottled water moguls, probably owns pearl farms, a bunch of organizations dedicated to researching and preserving sea life, etc. (and babie percy would inherit ALL of that in the future lmaoooooo)
apollo with modeling, authoring a bunch of books, acting, maybe he started a solar power energy company, he's probably a super important doctor too that gets requested by other super rich and important ppl, basically a shit ton of stuff cuz he has a lot of domains
loki would be that black sheep from the billionaire family type 💀💀💀 he just fucks off to do whatever; sometimes ppl wouldn't even recognize him as one of the super elite cuz he always looks like a fucking hot mess
anubis would also be something related to illegal business because of the whole death god stuff 💀
and CU AS A MERCENARY IS GENIUS. he'd be the merc who comes from a billionaire family (the celtic pantheon) but he mostly just fucks off and does his own thing that isn't related to what his family does OR MAYBE IT ISSSS related to his fam business, he just partakes in the illegal side of it 😂😂
percy would be percy but ✨Richer✨ she could either be poseidon's daughter from the start, or a bastard baby from a previous hookup he found out about and took in to raise as his own (so rags to riches type of shit).
anyways, because they're all still unhinged yanderes, percy would be homeschooled ("you're from an extremely wealthy family, it's safer to be homeschooled, my pearl" aka isolated) and beelzebub would still be her teacher (so sexy times lol). hades is VERY invested in his adorable lil niece so he visits poseidon's estate from time to time with innocent intentions ofc! apollo is obviously her favorite cousin (in his delusions) and her private doctor when beelie's not around, anubis and loki would be her besties, and cú chulainn as her bodyguard maybe??????
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1801 -Historic-Human AU -TPB
notes + rough ideas below. tw for 'real world' racism and sexism.
Characters
-> Bluestar (Blanche) Is the 'head' of the house of Thunder, I think this just makes her a lady/lord of sorts, she controls the finances, the hiring decisions, and any military planning or involvement goes through her first. She also probably reports to the monarchy.
She dies in the conflict/war. Usually, the title and responsibilities would fall to her children but she doesn't have any, so she makes the servant, Fineen her protege and leaves him with all the money management when she dies. Out of everyone she probably actually is a duchess or archduchess or something fancy like that, but for the sake of the AU, that's not too important. She's Black-French
-> Tigerclaw (Tristain) is only well known and wealthy through his military prowess, he's the one that fanned the conflict with Bloodclan and eventually dies in battle. He is racist and classist, a reflection of his own insecurities since he grew up poor and is probably part minority.
He is married to Golden (Gwendolyn.) He does cheat on her but he still stays married to her, meaning after his death, his wealth and title goes back to her and his legitimate children*
-> Raven, not pictured. he just leaves. around this time if you desert your post and are found, you could be executed. So he stays away. only Fireheart (Fineen) and Grayson know he's alive and well. probably living just at the edge of the bloodclan border at a farm.
-> Sandstorm(Sandra) She knows how to fight, but legally isn't allowed to join the war/conflict. She's of Greek descent and unlike Dustin, has no opinion of servants. She's allowed to hunt for the cooks of the house so she hunts and explores the wild.
-> Dustpelt (Dustin) He is canonically the brother of Raven. nothing to really say, he's the same in canon.
-> Grayson. pretty much the only other servant/lower-class person in the house of Thunder. he grew up in the house of Thunder, and bonds with Fineen. same as canon, except he does not have children with Silver (Silvia) They just have a little romp that causes even more drama. He is of Pacific-Islander descent.
-> Fireheart (Fineen). Blanche is the one who hired him, before joining the house as a lowly servant and eventual military guy, he lived probably, in bloodclan with his family. He is a foreigner, poor, loser with no skills but Blanche still ends up making him the heir before she dies. He is Indian-Irish descent.
Plot Points
-> Bluestar/Blanche still has children with Oakheart/Oakley. the children are born out of wedlock and as a cover-up she and Thrushpelt probably get engaged while she's pregnant. She fakes the death of her children, however, and they end up with their father in the House of River. After this, she breaks the engagement with Thrushpelt.
-> *Even if Tiger divorced Golden before his death, the house of Thunder would've still helped Golden financially, its just she wouldn't be living...rich.
-> I'm thinking of having the houses kinda like a land with other little houses on it, like an estate? Blanche would've just been the glorified landlord.
#wc au#this is probably the only arc aside from the 4th one that'll have like actual war#txt#wc#warrior cats#warrior cat au
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A House That Has Everything: Chapter 1
A/N: New series! This one came to me when I saw these amazing AI photos on Instagram made by @blackvelvetep and @_chiara975ep. (Be sure to check out their pages on Instagram!) My fic brain went crazy and this storyline was born.
This is an AU set in regency England where Elvis is a gentleman with a large estate. Also introducing a new OC: Annabelle Martin. I hope you love their story! It's a looooong one, so settle in, friends.
Warnings: NONE YET, this will get smutty (obvi, have ya met me?), but it'll be a slow burn with lots of tension, so no real warnings other than I guess the mention of parents dying
Word count: ~1.9k
Annabelle takes a deep breath and arranges herself to knock on the large servant's door at the back of the great house. This is to be her first day at her new place of employment and to say she is nervous would be an understatement. She has undergone training as a maid, but this is her first real job. Her hope was to be married to some sweet farm boy before she needed to use these skills, but the death of her mother two years ago and her father last month has resulted in her current predicament. She is an orphan of no consequence with no one left to look after her and no marriage prospects. Thankfully, her aunt, a barmaid at the inn with some hidden connection to the family, secured this position for her at Graceland Manor. The letter she has clutched in her fist states she should report directly to the master himself. This is certainly unique as it is typically the housekeeper who would have hired her, but her aunt's connection is to Colonel Presley himself and not the staff. This is beyond unique, but she has learned not to question affairs of the heart when they happen to other people.
She lifts her trembling hand and raps her knuckles on the door. Nothing happens immediately, so she waits a few seconds and knocks again. Finally, the door swings open and a handsome young footman with sandy blonde hair and brown eyes greets her. He manages his initial shock when he realizes how pretty she is, her dark hair curled perfectly and blue eyes rimmed with feathery black lashes. His smile is genuine as he opens his mouth to speak.
"May I help you, miss?"
"I am Annabelle Martin. I'm here to see Colonel Presley about a position as a maid." His smile falls and he looks down at his feet, clearing his throat.
"I'm afraid that won't be possible, miss." Her heart flutters with nervousness. She has nowhere else to go.
"I must, sir. Please."
"As much as I would love to take you to him, Colonel Presley died a week ago." She swallows hard.
"He... died?"
"Unfortunately so. A fever took him swiftly in less than a fortnight." Annabelle searches her mind for her next step. If this does not work out, she will be on the streets.
"May I see the housekeeper?"
"Mrs. Davenport?"
"Yes, I suppose. Please." He can read the desperation in her face.
"Alright then, come along." She follows as he opens the door wider and beckons her inside. He leads her to a small office and introduces her to Mrs. Davenport. Rather than trying to explain herself, Annabelle thrusts the letter forward for her to read. She watches as the older lady's eyes skim the words.
"Report directly to Colonel Presley himself?! Where did you get this?"
"My aunt delivered it. She said it was from Colonel Presley and that I should bring it and arrive on this date. Is it not in his handwriting?" Mrs. Davenport raises her eyebrows.
"It is." Annabelle breathes shakily as she watches the housekeeper try to come to a decision about what to do. "I will have to take you to the young master. I cannot make this decision when it is so clear what his father wanted, though for what reason I cannot understand. Come."
With that, Mrs. Davenport walks hastily out of the room through the kitchen and up the back stairs to the main level of the house. Annabelle does her best to keep her mouth closed as she takes in the overt splendor of the rooms. She's never been in a place like this with so much to see in every corner. She's so busy taking in the walls and furniture that she doesn't notice him at first. In fact, she hears him before she sees him, his smooth baritone echoing in the great hall.
"My father wanted what exactly?" When she does finally turn to look at him, her eyes widen. If she thought the home was stunning, it is nothing compared to the undeniable beauty of the man himself. His dark hair is windswept and falls perfectly on his forehead, just above eyes of the deepest cerulean. He has the bone structure of a Greek statue with thick brown lashes and heart-shaped lips that could be made of storm clouds. Eventually it dawns on her that he's speaking to her.
"I'm sorry, sir?"
"What was it my father wanted with you?" He says it slowly like he thinks she might have difficulty comprehending.
"To offer me a position as a housemaid. He told my aunt there was an opening-"
"There is not. Not one that I am aware of. Molly and Sarah are still here?" He turns to the housekeeper and she responds affirmatively. "We have no need of you."
He turns dismissively, but Annabelle has no other option. She must appeal to him somehow.
"Please! Sir, I am an orphan. I have nowhere else to go." Initially, her impertinence catches him off guard, but when she mentions that her parents are dead, he turns back to her abruptly. He's all too familiar with that feeling now, his mother having died 25 years ago giving birth to him. His eyes rake over her face, seemingly searching for something.
"Fine. We will have a third maid. Give her the kitchen maid's room, since Mrs. Hall insists she doesn't need one." With that, he turns and walks from the room.
Mrs. Davenport turns back to Annabelle and huffs. It's clear she doesn't approve of the decision, but she cannot contradict the Master, even if he doesn't seem to know what he's doing in his new position. She begins the journey back down to the servants' quarters with Annabelle close behind her. When they reach their destination in the kitchen downstairs, she turns to Annabelle with her lips pursed.
"I suppose you have experience as a maid. Where else have you worked?" Annabelle swallows hard.
"No, ma'am. This is to be my first job."
"No experience?! How old are you?!"
"I'm 18, ma'am."
"How is this possible?"
"My father was a farmer. I worked with him there until he died last month. But I have trained." Mrs. Davenport scoffs. Just then, a young girl in a maid uniform with red hair and freckles bounces into the room.
"Molly! Come here and meet Annabelle, the new maid. You will be responsible for teaching her the role." Molly nods and walks over to Annabelle. She looks to be about fifteen.
"You haven't worked before?" Her eyes widen and Annabelle sighs.
"No, I haven't. But I'm a good worker. I'll learn quickly." Mrs. Davenport's eyes narrow.
"You had better. Now, go with Molly and put your things away. She will get you a uniform and you can begin after lunch." Annabelle nods and follows Molly up to the sleeping quarters, pausing at a closet to fetch two uniforms.
"Did she say which room will be yours? Surely she doesn't expect you to share with us." Molly says nervously.
"No, Mr. Presley said I should have the kitchen maid's room."
"You will have your own room?! Hm. I wonder what you've done to earn that privilege." Annabelle shrugs. She didn't choose this. Molly continues down the hallway to a room at the end of the corridor.
"This is you. We're right next door. And that-" she gestures to the door at the end of the hall next to Annabelle's door. "-leads to the house. It's locked from their side, so they can enter our quarters but we cannot go to theirs. Now put your things away, get changed, and come back down." Molly turns to walk away.
"Thank you." Annabelle calls out to her back. Molly nods curtly and takes off down the hallway again.
Annabelle goes into her room and begins to get settled. She looks around at the barren white walls, the simple frame bed, and small wardrobe. A sob threatens to choke her as she remembers her cozy little house on the farm with so many books and warm fires and comfortable furniture. She was only able to bring what she could carry in a small package, which means she had to leave all the books behind. Her heart aches thinking about them and the fact that she'll have nothing to read here. Perhaps she could ask Mr. Presley if she could use the library.
Mr. Presley. She doubts that he will say yes to anything she has to say. He spoke to her as if she were a child and treated her like she was less than that. He didn't even ask her name. It's true he softened a bit when she mentioned being an orphan, but it's not enough to counteract his rudeness. Maybe she's just not used to interacting with members of his social class and this is what she should expect from now on. Either way, she has no intentions of interacting with him again, if she can help it.
Then, she remembers that she's supposed to be changing and hastily dresses in the uniform Molly gave her. It's a little big, so she'll have to do some alterations tonight after dinner, assuming she's allowed a candle in her room and a needle and thread. She looks around the room and sighs, checking her reflection in the small round glass by the chamber pot. Finally, she makes her way back down the stairs to begin.
******
Mr. Presley stands at the window in the study, looking out over the grounds. How did this happen? He was not supposed to take over the estate for at least another decade. By then he should've been married with children, ready for this kind of responsibility. But now? At 25? He is nowhere near prepared.
Thankfully, the army granted him a leave to take care of things, but he still has two more years to serve before his term is complete and he can sell his commission. He might've liked to rise in the ranks, like his father had, to become a Colonel before this, but now he has no choice but to come home and manage the estate.
And then there's the matter of getting married. A house like this needs a lady to keep everything running smoothly. Besides that, the prospect of living in all these rooms completely alone is a daunting one. Of course the servants are there, but it's not like when he was a child and the strict lines between them were blurred behind the walls of the home. He cannot rely on them for companionship.
For some reason, thinking of companionship brings to his mind the new maid. She is painfully pretty, with her soft white skin and full pink lips. And there is an elegance about her that transcends her station, almost like she was born to be a lady but circumstance had other plans. He hadn't intended to hire her, but the knowledge that she has nowhere else to go made it impossible for him not to. Oh well. Obviously, it's what his father wanted and the estate can afford it. He tries to recall if he asked her name, but if he did he doesn't remember it.
He's shaken from his reverie about the maid when the butler interrupts and announces his lawyer, Mr. Crawford, come to discuss more details of the estate. Mr. Presley sighs and turns from the window. Will the responsibility of this new life never end?
******
To be continued...
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
@ccab @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @atleastpleasetelephone @cinnamoroll-things @burnthheparaphilia @jhoneybees @cattcb @everythingelvispresley @returntopresley @searchingforgravity
#elvis presley#elvis#elvis presley fanfiction#elvis fanfic#elvis presley fic#elvis fanfiction#elvis fic#elvis x oc#elvis presley x oc#Elvis x Annabelle#Elvis Presley x Annabelle Martin#house that has everything
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Arranged marriage AU where Jon and Martin are Nobles With Neighboring Estates who meet as teenagers and fall in love. When they come of age they find out their respective families have engaged them off to strangers, so - unwilling to face a life apart - they flee their homes in the middle of the night to be together.
Cue Peter Lukas (distantly related head of Martin’s family) and Jonah Magnus (ditto for Jon) frantically beginning their own months-long searches for the runaway grooms, desperate to find them and drag them back to their weddings.
Eventually the two are located on a small rural farm, living the cottagecore life. Peter and Jonah are summoned; their carriages pull up outside the small house at the same time. They disembark, frowning at each other.
"What are you doing here?"
"What are you doing here?"
"I'm looking for my family's runaway groom, Jonathan Sims."
"I'm looking for my family's runaway, Martin Blackwood."
They both look at the house.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me."
-
There's a knock at the front door. Jon opens it and finds himself face-to-face with Jonah.
"Hello, Jon."
Jon pales and takes a step back. "You can't make me go back."
"I think-"
Before he can speak, Martin enters from another room in the house. "Jon, who's-" and then he freezes, and pales as well.
"Hello, Martin," Peter says.
"I won't go back," Martin replies, his voice shaking. He steps up next to Jon and puts a hand on his shoulder. Jon reaches up to hold it with his own, and Peter and Jonah's eyes focus in on the rings on their fingers.
"Please," Jonah says, through gritted teeth. "For the love of god. Tell me the two of you didn't run away to marry each other."
Jon's chin juts out in defiance. "And if we did? You can't separate us."
"Oh for goodness-!" Peter says. "We've been looking for you for months! Countless man hours we’ve wasted to bring you back for your wedding, only to find out you're already married?"
"Maybe you should have thought of that before you went and sold our futures away!" Martin says. "We're not pawns in your chess game, we're not just going to go along with whatever schemes you come up with to marry us off to-"
"-each other?" Jonah interrupts.
Jon and Martin freeze.
"...What?"
Peter waves a hand at Jon. "Martin, this is the Magnus boy you were arranged to marry!"
Jonah nods at Martin. "This is the Lukas child to whom you were engaged, Jon."
"What?"
"Did you seriously," and there is a vein throbbing in his temple, "know each other for years, run away from your homes together, get married, and it never, not once occurred to you to tell each other what families you came from?"
-
Jmart get their asses dragged back home for a Real and Proper Legal Wedding (the first definitely wasn't - they exchanged rings and declared their undying love for each other in a moonlit field with no witnesses). As soon as the ceremony's over they're banished back to their farm because no one wants to put up with any more of their bullshit.
And there they live happily (if somewhat embarrassed) ever after.
#the magnus archives#my magnus archives stuff#my writing#magnus archives fanfiction#the dinghy#jonmartin#original post
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✨ A guide to my Good Omens comics, fics and AUs ✨
Finally a new, reworked version! I've tried to compile this list with all my comics, AUs, fanfictions etc with links and tags to help everyone navigate them better! Please let me know if there are any questions or you'd like me to add/change something!
👇👇 Click "read more" to get to the full list! 👇👇
Please note that this list only includes AUs and works that consist of several parts/are a series; one shot comics are not listed here.
All of these works can also be found on my instagram, some of them on Twitter/X under the same tags.
🌱 Myosotis 🌱
Main comic (completed):
Myosotis is a flower, also known as ‘Forget-me-not’. It symbolizes faithful love and memories. According to a German legend, God forgot naming this flower and said “I forgot you once, I shall never forget you again.” This comic takes place one year after the events of Good Omens season 1. Crowley and Aziraphale have lost all their memories about each other. They meet again, thinking the other is human and feeling drawn towards each other, they soon develop a strong connection.
➡️ Start reading ⬅️ | Tag: #myosotisAU
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Myosotis: Falter (completed):
This mini comic takes place 3 years after the conclusion of the Myosotis comic. Crowley and Aziraphale spend a rainy night at home when they get an unexpected visitor.
➡️ Start reading ⬅️ | Tag: #myosotis falter
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So, you stopped Armageddon! ...Now what? (completed)
This fanfiction takes place after the final scene of season 1. Crowley and Aziraphale celebrate their newfound freedom and Crowley wonders if and how things between him and the angel were going to change. And what should they do now that they’ve retired? So many doors have opened before them all at once, it’s a little overwhelming.
➡️ Start reading ⬅️ | Tag: #SYSA! ...NW?
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Crêpes (onging)
This comic takes place after the events of Good Omens season 2 and shows how Crowley deals with Aziraphale leaving.
➡️ Start reading ⬅️ | Tag: #Good Omens crepes
⚜️ GoodGardenerAU (ggAU for short) ⚜️
In this AU Warlock actually is the Antichrist and his demonic Nanny Lilith 'Ash' Ashtoreth has been tasked to take care of him and ensure he brings upon Armageddon. What happens when the Antichrist's nanny is actually a terrible demon who doesn't want Armageddon to happen, who forms deep friendships with the other humans at the ambassador's estate and, worst of all, falls in love with the human gardener? This AU isn't one consistent long comic, but a collection of several shorter comics, fanfictions and artworks. They are listed chronologically below.
Tag: #GoodGardenerAU
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Lilium (completed):
This comic tells the story of how Ash became Warlock's nanny.
➡️ Start reading ⬅️ | Tag: #ggAULilium
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Three Months (ongoing):
This fanfiction takes places immediately after the events of Lilium and is a glimpse into Ash's first three months living at the Dowling estate. It showcases their mental struggles and how they eventually let down their walls to befriend some of their new colleagues (among them the estate's gardener) and start their process of healing from millennia of trauma.
➡️ Start reading ⬅️ | Tag: #ggAU three months
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Why It Doesn't Snow (completed)
A mini comic where Ash and Francis uncover the mystery of why it has stopped snowing in the area ever since Warlock’s birth.
➡️ Start reading ⬅️ | Tag: #ggAUsnow
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Ineffable Uncles (completed)
This comic is part of the Good Omens/ggAU Multiverse. Aziraphale and Crowley offer to watch over their AU niece Eden (Francis and Ash's daughter) for a weekened. What could go wrong?
➡️ Start reading ⬅️ | Tag: #ggAUineffableUncles
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ggAU Skyrim AU
An AU of my AU? Yes, sue me. This is a The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim AU for my GoodGardenerAU. It takes place in the world and rough timeline of the game. Ash is a Dunmer working at Braidwood Inn in Kynesgrove who seems to live a second, secret life in the shadows. Francis is a Nord working at Hollyfrost farm outside of Windhelm. Warlock is the Nord son of two busy trades people at Windhelm. Ash has been babysitting him since he was young. He is a normal boy who just so happens to have a special soul residing within him.
Tags: #ggAUSkyrim
These are AUs that exist but I sadly don't draw very often.
📚 Untitled Ineffable Wives AU 📚
This AU is still in progress! Aziraphale is a human working at her family's bookstore, while Crowley is a naga stranded in the human world. I won't give more details until I have it all more refined. They're very much lesbians in this.
Tag: #untitled wives au
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🧙🏼♂️ Ineffable Hobbit AU 🧙🏼♂️
An AU that takes place in Tolkien's Middle Earth, set primarily during the events of The Hobbit movies. Aziraphale Bilbo Baggins lives a quiet but peaceful life in The Shire until a wizard and thirteen dwarves drag him into an adventure to reclaim the dwarven mountain kingdom of Erebor from the terrible dragon Smaugley…. Only that Smaugley doesn’t seem all that terrible.
Tag: #IneffableHobbitAU
#serahtalks#serahsart#good omens au#myosotisau#myosotis falter#goodgardenerau#ggau#ggAULilium#ggAU Three Months#ggAUineffableUncles#ggAUSkyrim#ggAUsnow#SYSA! ...NW?#IneffableHobbitAU#untitled wives au#good omens
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prompt from: @rabbitbites: modern au where feyd and paul are fwb, feyd wants to be more, but Paul is still trying to get over the loss of his father and breaking things off with chani and they have an angsty make out sesh about it [note: mature.]
The campus courtyard was a busy place. Off-world students enjoyed the splendor of Caladan. Those who grew up on the ocean planet continued to bask in the dreary rain and lush, green surface of the farming district. Paul Atreides had been born and bred on Caladan, sequestered to an estate near the sea where his father once oversaw the political wellness of its citizens. Leto’s death still turned Paul’s stomach. Eight months since the accident, still a wound too raw and festering to ignore.
Rain fell in drizzly sheets across the university and Paul walked through it without bothering to pop open his umbrella. Water beaded on his forehead and streaked his face, but he didn’t mind. He walked past one of the square lecture halls and cut across the lawn in front of the library and then made his way through the iron gates, stepping up onto a damp sidewalk. His phone buzzed in his pocket.
[feyd] you want a beer
Paul typed out whatever you’re having and hit send.
This quarter was almost over which meant Paul would have to start preparing the syllabus for next quarter. There was always an influx of students in the spring, cramming to get seats in prized classes with experienced professors. Paul Atreides, well, Professor Atreides taught a history class specializing in sietch formation on Arrakis, home of spice. And home of Chani Kynes, who would soon return to the desert planet, called back to her upbringing by golden dunes and Shai Hulud. By an unflinching duty to her people. Things hadn’t been the same between them since his father had died. They weren’t technically together anymore, they weren’t officially apart either. She had a key to his loft; he knew the code to her garage. She cooked him delicacies from Arrakis sometimes; he brought her boba and sushi sometimes. They slept together because it felt right. Because they didn’t have much time left and she knew his body, and he knew hers. Because for the last two years, Paul had loved her, and she had loved him.
Losing Leto changed everything though.
It started small, the grief binge, chasing adrenaline. Paul drank a six-pack one night, then a fifth of liquor the next. He went out with one his students after that, railing spice cut with something from Kaitain at a nightclub in the city. That same night, he met someone. Handsome, trouble. In his right mind, Paul would’ve walked away. But Feyd-Rautha, dressed in a fitted black long-sleeve, leather belt cinched around dark denim, had looked at Paul from across the dancefloor. They became fast friends, laughing under bright neon. Paul left with him, found something greasy at a food truck, agreed to meet again another night. Post-work drinks, like the one he was about to have, turned into time spent at Paul’s loft, watching a filmbook or cooking together, talking about the band Feyd-Rautha was in, one he couldn’t seem to get off the ground, or meeting at Feyd-Rautha’s apartment to play a boardgame or catch up. They commiserated about lost family. Feyd let Paul listen to unreleased music and Paul waxed poetic about the Known Universe. The first time Paul kissed Feyd-Rautha on the mouth at a nightclub, his mind had been glittering with spice, bloodstream tainted with whisky. They’d fucked in the bathroom like clumsy teenagers, Feyd’s palm rucked up Paul’s shirt, Paul’s pants pushed to his thighs, Feyd trapping him against the stall, chewing at his throat, and Paul spending at the first breath Feyd sent coasting along his earlobe. In the morning, they vowed to never do it again. Two days later, Paul showed up at Feyd’s apartment, sober but lonely, and Feyd didn’t turn him away.
Since then, for a handful of months, Paul Atreides and Feyd-Rautha met to talk, drink, fuck, read together, kiss lazily on the couch, share meals, fall asleep. Feyd was Paul’s friend, in a way.
Paul shouldered through the door at a small dive bar near Feyd’s apartment and took off his coat, draping it over his arm as he approached a dingy booth across from a dartboard. Feyd sat with his eyes on his phone, flicking through social media. His fair skin was warming as winter gave way to spring, but nothing could completely chase the milky glow from his complexion. He wore a leather jacket, one Paul had seen many times, and glanced at him as he fell into the booth opposite him.
“Got you a red,” Feyd said, knuckling a frosty glass toward him.
Paul nodded. “Appreciate it.”
“You go to therapy today?”
He took a long drink. “Can we not — "
“So, no,” Feyd grumbled.
“I don’t need grief therapy, I’m fine.”
“If a therapist opened a textbook right now and pointed to potential grief therapy client, your face would be on the page.”
Paul shifted his jaw. “I’m figuring it out on my own.”
Feyd-Rautha furrowed his naked brow and gave a single nod. “You following Chani to Arrakis?”
“Not yet, no.”
“Yet.”
“Feyd…” Paul heaved a sigh and took long pull from his beer. They’d talked about it before. The idea of them. Usually drunk, usually in bed or tucked away in the dark. But they had talked about it. And Paul knew, despite Feyd-Rautha’s stoic demeanor and cold exterior, that he wanted more than what they had. More than friendship pushed to the brink of catastrophe.
The longer Paul used Feyd like a coping mechanism, the more entangled they’d become. Paul knew that already. He’d known that since the start.
“Look, I can’t…” Feyd paused to breathe. His jaw slackened and he talked with his hands, knuckles flexed, long fingers bent oddly to match his mood. Frantic, anxious. Angry. “I won’t keep doing this, okay? It’s not good for me, it’s definitely not good for you.”
“Yeah, and what’s good for me?”
“Sobriety, probably,” Feyd deadpanned, gesturing to the almost empty beer. “Stability. Therapy. Enough sleep.”
“And what if I don’t want you to be good for me?”
Feyd snapped. “You think I don’t know how we got here? C’mon, Paul. I’m not exactly your type.”
Paul felt the comment before it came out, barbed and hot. “You’re not, no.”
“Okay,” Feyd heaved a sigh, defeated, and stood. He threw a few bills onto the table and walked away.
Paul listened to the hard pound of his boots on the floor. A part of him, the stubborn part, fully intended to stay seated and let him go. But the part of Paul Atreides who loved how Feyd laughed and curled close to him at night and ate popcorn with him at the theater and panted in his lap was stronger than the grief-stricken young man left in Leto’s shadow. Paul finished his beer and darted after him, catching Feyd by the elbow outside the bar.
“I’m sorry,” he blurted, squeezing Feyd’s arm hard. “I’m sorry, you know I’m sorry.”
“I don’t, actually,” Feyd said, yanking away. He turned down an alley, trudging into the dark. Rain fell a little harder, splattering his leather jacket. He angled his mouth over his shoulder. “What’re you sorry for?”
Paul stomped after him, pawing at his shoulder. “We’re here because I’m a mess,” he confessed, halting Feyd in his tracks. “Because I met you and I liked you and — ”
Feyd whirled on him. His strong hand landed at the base of his throat. He pushed him backward, sealing him against the concrete, and seized his neck, angling his face upward. “And?”
“And you make it easy. This, us, it’s easy,” he said, sighing. “Don’t take it from me yet. Please,” he whispered, craning against Feyd’s hold. “Let me keep you a little longer.”
Feyd-Rautha kissed a fire into him. Paul hardly had time to register he was being kissed at all until Feyd was prying at his mouth, licking between his lips, breathing hard. The cold rain kept falling, and Paul reached for Feyd’s face, cupping his cheek, then palmed his nape, hauling him closer. Feyd’s teeth slipped across his bottom lip. Paul nipped at his mouth, chasing the sensation.
“I might not be your type, but you’re mine, you hear me?” Feyd rasped, biting tenderly on the slope of Paul’s jaw. “You’re mine.”
“I’m a liar,” Paul said, gulping in air before he ducked down, searching for Feyd’s plump mouth. “You’re exactly my type, exactly.”
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the bedroom hymns ● chapter xv
⟶ Chapter summary | Yoongi knows that he is treading between the lines as he continues to approach you, taking more risky steps in getting you to open up to him. But secrets are meant to be kept, and Yoongi needs to hold on tightly on his patience, even when he soon finds out that time may not be on his side after all.
⟶ Title | The Bedroom Hymns: a Bluebeard’s twist ⟶ Pairings | Min Yoongi x female reader ⟶ Genre | Fairy Prince!Yoongi, Crown Princess!reader, Fantasy AU, Fairy Tale retelling ⟶ Word count | 7,925 words ⟶ Ratings | PG-13, +18 / M for Mature for future chapters; include classism, mentions of black magic, deceit, mentions of abduction, fantasy weapons. ⟶ Story Masterlist: The Bedroom Hymns | ⤎ previous chapter | next chapter ⇢ ⟶ Main Masterlist | Mailbox | Taglist | Feedback | Music Playlist | Ko-fi
chapter xv. crescendo
The air has grown cold by the time you return to the other side of the village, making your way back to the main road leading to where you first came from. Chilly breeze passes around you, strong enough to pierce through your thick coat that your body shivers in its presence.
Above you, the sky is shifting. The golden shades that you saw in the afternoon is blending into the muted hue of the sunset. A display of pastel clouds and indigo-coloured shades are seen dancing on the darkening sky, with merely a thin layer of gold left surrounding the descending sun like a golden halo glowing right above the horizon.
As you continue your journey home, leaving the famers’ village and the vast farm estate behind you, you find yourself getting lost in the display of light and colours that seem so uncommon to your eyes.
It amazes you how the places that you have been to lately could be so different to one another. Not only in terms of their culture, the people you see, and the local weather that you must endure, but also in the myriad of shades of colours that you get to see in the surrounding nature, as well as the scents wafting through the air.
Noticing you shivering under your coat, Yoongi delicately reaches out to grab your hand as he walks beside you. He has been silence for a while now, ever since you left the tavern together soon after sharing a long, deep, and surprisingly, meaningful conversation. But never once had he ever let his attention on you slip that he can easily notice it when the expression on your face gradually changes over time.
“Perhaps, the next time you are out traveling like this, you might want to consider wearing thicker clothes and prepare some gloves,” he says as he gently rubs your hands in an effort to warm up your frozen fingers.
Little does he know that he is doing more than keeping your hands warm, as the heat starts coursing all the way to your chest, flowing right into your fluttering heart and spreading all over your face that you can barely look at him.
But Yoongi is too deeply concerned over your dainty fingers to notice it, and you are enjoying this moment too much to stop him.
“Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind,” you whisper to him while keeping your eyes down, still too flustered to look at him in the eyes.
Ever since your unexpected date at the tavern, everything about Yoongi has become more intense. His deep gaze which lingers on you until you are made to feel completely exposed, vulnerable, as if he could see right through your facade. His actions and gestures that are still as graceful yet has gradually grown more intimate with each passing second that you spend together.
And there is also the change in his speech, his soft spoken words that feel like a gentle caress reaching deep into your soul. Even when all he does is to ask about how you are feeling with the rapid change of temperature and the buzz from the brew that you had drunk back at the tavern still coursing through your body.
It feels overwhelming, although instead of feeling like you are intimidated by his rapt attention, you simply feel somewhat reassured.
You feel seen, after years and years of having to live in the shadows and having no one understanding what you had to go through. At the same time, he makes you feel heard, when you were finally able to share with him your deepest and darkest thoughts, your troubles, everything that has been left unspoken for many years. And Yoongi has been so respectful as he listened, never once undermining your fears and worries when you opened up about how it felt for you being kept hidden in the dark for so long.
But keeping your eyes away from his only allows you to focus on something else. Like focusing on the flow of energy coming out of his body, for example, and the way his touch seems to exude unnatural warmth which feels like an electric current transferring into your skin.
“I suppose your experience in traveling to different places have taught you how to adjust better,” you murmur to him with a smile once you realise that while you are trembling under your cloak, Yoongi doesn’t seem to be struggling when he is the one wearing nothing more but a thin layer of clothing that doesn’t seem adequate enough to protect him from the cold.
“You’re still warm.”
Yoongi lets out a chuckle, and only then do you finally raise your head to look at him. “I do adjust better with the weather, no matter where I go. It doesn’t affect me that much,” he reveals with a grin, as he talks about it as if it is something that is common to happen.
His words take you back to your past conversation, when he talked about his life and the work that he does for the mercenary army. Granted, he didn’t tell you much about himself aside from the general things that he was willing to share, but you have learned a bit more about him which has given you a sense of relief, giving you more reasons to feel much safer when you are with him and less wary. Not even when you look at him with the knowledge that you have gained about his secretive brotherhood of the mercenary army.
Once the cold no longer bothers you all that much, you continue to walk together a bit further until you are back at the crossroad where you had started your afternoon trip at the village of Grimm.
The farmers’ village lies behind you, while the dark pathway leading back to your father’s private property lies ahead of you. Looking around, you finally notice what you have failed to pay attention to today before you managed to learn more about this place—that the eerie forest that you had been warned to stay away from has always been closer than you had thought.
Stretched out across the rising terrain before your eyes and atop of the surrounding hills, the forest appears to you in a form of a massive wall of trees, all standing as tall as your eyes can see, with intertwining branches and thick canopy of leaves spread high above to shield you from the darkening sky.
In the daytime, the forest itself didn’t seem as eerie or intimidating.
But of course, the first time you laid your eyes on your surroundings, you hadn’t met with the farmers or received their warnings, nor had you paid any attention to the deep woods. Now that the darkness has begun to spread around you, everything about the forest seems to be warning you to stay away.
“Are you sure that you’re not interested about that tour downtown?” Yoongi asks as you stand together at the crossroads, with your eyes looking into the deep forest and his eyes locked on you. A part of you wishes that you could stay with him just a bit longer, yet the dark sky above becomes the silent reminder that you shouldn’t.
“I’m quite sure,” you quickly say to him before you start to consider otherwise, because you are also quite sure that you are running out of time.
Yoongi had first offered to take you on a tour downtown once you concluded your talk, to see more of Grimm and the places that should be more interesting than this secluded village and its modest tavern. But your time spent with him had already lasted longer than it should have.
So the moment you realised that the day was already turning into dusk, with a heavy heart, you were left with no choice but to refuse his offer and let him know that it was finally time for you to leave.
“That’s too bad, because if I am allowed to be honest with you, I am not ready to see you go so soon,” Yoongi admits to you, which warms your heart just as much as it warms your cheeks. Standing before you, Yoongi takes your hand in his and leans down, pressing his lips on the back of your hand in a gentlemanly manner as a way to bid his goodbye.
“Still, I must thank the Fates for keeping our paths crossed, that we are able to meet like this despite our limited time together,” he gently says to you as he straightens back up. As his gaze softens just as much as his voice does, your chest feels tight with doubt.
Will we see each other again?
Will I have another chance to speak with him like we did today?
Have I missed out on a chance to learn more about him?
These silent wonderings continue circling through your thoughts, and for the first time, fear grips at your chest at the mere thought that you might not see him again.
“Do you trust the Fates to bring our paths back together again?” you ask him in return, unable to hold back from wishing loudly that you will meet each other again the next time you walk through the portal, that he would be there when you emerge on a different foreign land for another unexpected journey.
With certainty in his eyes, Yoongi nods and says, “I do. I believe it will happen, as long as our souls continue to look for one another, we will find our way back to each other again.”
His faith seems alluring, that you cannot help but feel the same hope growing in your chest that perhaps fate would bring you back together again. But you are too deep in admiring his confidence with his belief that it would take hours later for you to recall his words and wonder what he truly means.
“Then I shall pray that you are right,” you mutter to him, “If we do ever cross paths again, then I’ll be able to admit that Fates may have a hand in us finding each other no matter how odd the possibilities are.”
Your words seem to please him. “Then I shall count on it to happen again,” Yoongi says with a wide smile on his face, while you silently wish for the same.
Unlike before, Yoongi insists in walking you home. With the night soon falling, and the threats of the dark curses of the forest troubling your thoughts, you have no choice but to agree with him this time. The journey is more tasking now than before, when you are going uphill rather than going down from the main road.
But with Yoongi by your side, you find no trouble carrying on. His presence brings you peace, while his gentle voice keeps your nerves from spiralling out of control as the darkness around you thickens.
Yoongi glances at you to notice that you keep sneaking a peek through the shadows, wary of what you might see in the dark, and he begins to question you, “You know, if the darkness bothers you, perhaps I could—”
Even before Yoongi can finish his words, you can already tell what he is trying to offer you, as he has been trying to do the same ever since the moment he first brought it up back at the tavern. To be given the chance and reason for him to use his magic, to display his mana right before your eyes, just so he could get a reason to see yours.
You had expected that he would bring it up again before he finally lets you go tonight, after you had solemnly refused that offer previously at the tavern. Only because you knew that you couldn’t do the same in return.
To reveal to him the mana within you that may lie dormant, or the magic that your father may have placed on you to keep your safe in your journey.
And yet, as you silently anticipate to hear Yoongi’s alluring way of stating his offer, those words never come. You turn curiously to question him about it, only for you to notice Yoongi looking far away into the distance, far beyond the deep foliage of the woods to see something that your eyes cannot see.
The way his brows are furrowed and the stiffness forming on his shoulders feel unsettling. There is tension coming out of his body, even if it doesn’t seem enough to show you that there is a possible danger lurking through the darkness.
“Is something the matter?” you question him while glancing around, wondering what might have caught his attention, since it seems to be important enough to draw such reaction that you are now seeing from him.
At the sound of your voice, Yoongi snaps out of it. Drawn back to your presence, the dark expression he wears on his face clears out as he turns to look at you.
“I have been looking forward to finally gain an extended time with you by walking you home, but I’m afraid this is as far as I can go,” he suddenly says with regret in his voice.
A myriad of questions come to surface, filling your head along with uncertainty, yet you choose not to question him further. A part of you feel the same regret of not having that extended time to spend with him, but there is also a part of you that is overcome with relief, because this would only allow you to hide your father’s secret hideout from him and, hopefully, the magic portal that is hidden behind the locked doors.
“I suppose I’d have no choice but to let you go, after all. What a pity,” you mutter to him with a low voice, hoping that your conflicted feelings wouldn’t show through your words.
“Yes, it’s a pity indeed,” Yoongi says, and you can see a glimpse of bitterness sparkling in his eyes; his annoyance at the sudden disturbance which seems to require his presence seems so palpable. “But I will make it up to you if we do meet again,” Yoongi stops himself by shaking his head before correcting his words, “No, what I mean is—when we are to meet again.”
You cannot resist the ghost of smile forming on your face at how promising his words sound. “You sound so confident.”
“I must, if I am to see you again,” Yoongi says to you with a genuine smile, and you find yourself sharing the same feeling of hope of seeing him again. As he bids his goodbye for the second time, Yoongi doesn’t take your hand in his, but politely bows before you as he says, “Until then, Princess.”
As Yoongi rises to his height, you can only look at him while feeling dumbfounded. The different nickname that he has given you is filled with jest, no doubt spoken with humour instead of derision—because there is no way that Yoongi knows who you are, isn’t there?—yet it still throws you off that you find yourself unable to speak.
With a small grin, Yoongi lowers his hat to cover his face, allowing you no chance to speak at all before he turns away and starts walking down the pathway where the two of you had come from. You remain for a moment at the same spot to watch him disappear between the trees before turning away, continuing your journey back to the house hidden beyond the hill.
For a moment, you continue to walk as if you are lost in a daze. Something inside you feels heavy, and it seems to be getting worse the more distance you have between you and Yoongi.
Suddenly doubting that you will have the same luck of seeing him on your next journey, you quickly turn on your heels and rush back to find him.
You have no idea what you are hoping to find by chasing his tracks and following his shadows. Perhaps your desperate need to cling to him has taken over you that you fail to think logically about this. But you know for sure that you have no plan at all as you rush between the trees, ignoring the shadows reaching out to you as you follow the trails that he has left behind in his departure.
And yet, the pathway that you had walked on with him has been left vacant, with no trace of his shadow left behind.
He is gone, you wonder to yourself as disappointment grows within you. How did he manage to move so fast?
As you take a moment to catch your breath, you take a quick glance around, trying to see if you can still catch his shadow and find a way to stop him before he could go any further. You continue going down the hill until you nearly reach the line of trees bordering between the woods and the village, where you finally catch the sight of Yoongi disappearing towards a different part of the woods, and you quickly run to catch up with him.
Yet Yoongi is walking too fast.
From one side of the woods to the next you try to follow him, walking across the foot of the nearest hill without emerging into the main road, and you find that Yoongi has gone further away from you.
There is nothing that you can do to stop him as he walks straight into the deeper, darker side of the forest, disappearing between the shadows of the trees just as the sun dips beyond the horizon, making it seem as if the darkness has engulfed him completely. And it steals any chance that you have left to catch up with him before the curse of the forest rises in the coming nightfall.
Yoongi’s legs feel heavy as he trudges along the dirt path taking him through the deep thickets. His heart feels just as heavy, though it has nothing to do with the unsteady ground or the muddy path he is walking on.
He simply feels this way because of his reluctance to be apart from you.
Deep down, he realises that this feeling will only get worse the more he spends time with you. The pull that he feels toward you has been growing steadily stronger, and if he should continue meeting up with you like this, the longer he is in your presence, the bond that has been formed between you will only become more solid.
Even as he has gotten further away from you, his heartbeat is still racing rapidly. His entire body still feels tense, not only because of how excited and nervous he had been for being able to spend time with you. But because he had gotten close—so close—to revealing everything to you.
“I might have to show it to you to prove it…”
He can still hear his own voice as he was offering you a quick show of his magic, the words came slipping out of him before he could stop it, before he could even think or consider all the risks.
It would only take one touch, one single brush of finger, one contact between his hand and yours, and he would have revealed it all. His secret. His father’s secret. Your father’s secret.
His hand tenses right beside him as he walks through the woods, still feeling the urge to reach out to touch your fingers. The tingles of his magic that had been calling for you still lingers with every twitch of his fingers and ever stretch of his palm.
If only you had said yes and accepted his offer.
He regrets that it never happened, as not only did he lose the chance to hold your hand, he had also lost the chance to be completely truthful to you. And yet, at the same time, he is also relieved, because your rejection had only given him more time to be able to get closer to you before something like that—the revelation of his identity—could ever happen.
It would be too soon for it to happen now, he keeps telling himself as he slowly clenches his hand. Because she might pull away if he finds out about everything before she is ready.
He can already imagine what would have happened if he had pushed his intention earlier, if he had been more adamant in forcing you to reveal your true self and have his magic activate the mana inside you.
All he intended to do was to confirm his suspicions about you using the Wicked King’s magic to travel around. Such action would help him find answers, and he would have been able to use it to track down the King, and then after, to be able to find Queen Milena.
But the more he thinks about it, the more it feels like a breach of trust. He can picture you steadily pushing him away once that happens, that the truth will only scare you away instead of pushing you closer to him.
One day, it would still happen; the day when the truth behind your heritage is finally revealed to you and how the two of you had been connected since birth. But that time is not now. For that moment to happen, Yoongi would have to gain your complete trust, to allow you to get to know more of him and him to you. Something that would be impossible to gain with just a couple of short encounters made.
As Yoongi continues his journey through the forest, he uses the silence that is now engulfing him to silence his mind.
The scent of the forest mixing in with the evening breeze calms him down, while the dark movement of trees distracts him from his own thoughts. It would be crucial for Yoongi to regain his composure and clear his mind before confronting the ripple of mana that had summoned him merely moments ago, forcing him to separate himself from you.
Yoongi is quite familiar with this energy, hence he knows what to expect as he continues going deeper into the woods, ignoring the sounds of the forest and the branches that seems to be reaching out to him, until he finds the dark presence standing in his path. They are standing merely a few feet away from Yoongi’s portal once he stops, not too far from the gate which he had used earlier in the afternoon as a mean of transport to reach Grimm.
Which only means that he had been using it to follow Yoongi’s trails. Once again.
Wearing the formal uniform from the Empire’s knighthood instead of a disguise that he normally uses as a common member of the mercenary army, Sergeant Jang Yijeong stands under the shadows formed by the thick foliage, his back leaning against one of the thickest trees with his eyes looking straight above his head, as if he is able to look past the foliage and see the darkening sky above.
He still has his gaze locked on the unseen sky as Yoongi approaches him silently, and the fairy soldier murmurs with a voice that comes out as gently as a hum, “It seems that it would rain soon.”
“Would that be the reason why you sent out a sign for me to find you here?” Yoongi jokes with a scoff, “Have you come only to tell me that it’s raining tonight? Do you perhaps carry an umbrella with you to protect me on my way home?”
“Not really,” Yijeong says with a shrug, unbothered by Yoongi’s mockery. His expression remains calm as he turns to look at Yoongi. Even if the sight of the Crown Prince wearing a commoner’s clothing surprises him, he surely isn’t showing it. But the flair on his skin bothers Yoongi a little, showing him that his friend had been using an additional magic when he was stepping across Yoongi’s portal.
For what, he has no idea. But it is enough to make him grow alert. Because there has to be a reason why his friend needed to use magic to cover his own trail.
“So—what have you gained from today’s meeting with the mysterious princess?” Yijeong asks before Yoongi can start asking questions.
This time, Yoongi is the one struggling to control his expression. With his bamboo hat still covering his head, he knows that the shade would still be enough to hide his furrowed brows as he questions his best friend, “What are you implying?”
“I am just assuming that you are to gain some information the moment you have the chance to,” Yijeong continues, “Wasn’t that the reason why you sought her in the first place?”
“That’s not the only purpose that had led me to start following her, and you of all people know that,” Yoongi seethes, hating the way he cannot actually argue with that assumption when it is partly true.
Yoongi curses inwardly as guilt grips at him in the chest. He suddenly feels like a criminal for deceiving you, while at the same time, he cannot regret the actions that he had made so far because they have given him the chance to meet you and talk to you in person. He sees it as a blessing to have been given the chance to get to know you, after all the years that he had spent chasing shadows without a single clue where to find you.
He had even spent years questioning himself, doubting his own memories and faith, almost believing that you never existed.
Until the ripples of magic first began appearing, stretching out through space and time each time you used the magic which took you to different places the same way he uses his portals.
As if Yijeong has the ability to look into the inner battle that Yoongi is currently having, he tilts his head and raises his brows. “It’s not?” he questions Yoongi, remembering quite well everything that Yoongi had shared with him in the past.
It was during the first night he felt the burst of energy that came when you opened your father’s portal when Yoongi revealed his true mission for the first time to Yijeong. Except that the only thing that Yoongi did was to reveal who you were, just to let his friend know that the mysterious traveller that Yijeong had met back in Smotia may truly have a connection to the missing Queen, and that you have somehow made contact with the magic that not many would be able to control.
Yoongi had shared his suspicions with his friend that night, believing that you had been granted a way to use the magic.
It was then when he decided to follow you, except that while he did so to confirm the threads of fate connecting your souls together, he merely revealed to Yijeong his need to find out about your magic; to see if it had been the same magic which was used by the person responsible for the Queen’s disappearance, to learn the secrets behind the missing Queen, and to see if following your trails would lead him into finding her.
Yoongi has yet to understand the reason why he felt the need to hide his own agenda, when he could have opened up and shared everything with his best friend. Just like how he has always been able to share about everything with him for years.
Perhaps he had done it out of pure instinct, as he had been tormented by doubt at the time he was divulging his thoughts to Yijeong. He was doubting not only the soulmate bond that he believed to have since he was no more but a young child, and he was doubting your existence, having lost sight of you ever since the day the Queen disappeared.
And he wanted to keep everything to himself until he was able to prove it.
That you are truly the missing piece of his soul that he has been seeking for so long.
“Oh, that’s right. What was it that you said before?” Yijeong says in a mocking tone, drawing Yoongi back to focus on him again, “You’re only making sure that she remains safe.”
With a frown, Yoongi recalls saying those exact words to Yijeong just a while ago. Hearing it spoken back to him only makes him feel uneasy.
He has been keeping too many secrets and has been spending the whole day teetering on the edge of spilling everything out, and his friend seems to be poking at the right direction because his skin will not stop bristling in annoyance.
“I meant it when I said that I felt the need to protect her,” Yoongi slowly admits, and hearing himself saying this out loud, he realises that these are no longer empty words to be spoken.
Especially after what he had learned earlier when he sat down with you, when he listened to you sharing a small part of your life that he couldn’t have known if he had only relied on the intel that his men had previously given him.
Yijeong gives him a sly grin. “Protect her, by stalking her and acting like a mysterious escort?” he asks again. Only this time, Yoongi can sense his mocking tone softening.
“When you first told me about it, I had assumed that you would remain in the distance, hidden away as you watch her movements, instead of approaching her directly and going on dates with the innocent girl,” Yijeong continues to question Yoongi as he shifts against the tree that he has been leaning on and moves his arm around.
Only then does Yoongi notice that his friend has been swinging his short sword lightly by his side. Free from its sheath, the sword glimmers in the dark. The tip has grown stained, making him wonder if Yijeong has been using it as he was strolling through the deep forest.
A protective magic to cover his trails. A sword on the ready and pointed out as he made it all the way here.
Something is happening. Yoongi can feel it, and he knows that may have something to do with the reason why Yijeong had decided to come here after finishing his royal duty at the palace.
But Yoongi merely shakes his head, unable to focus on his friend, nor to try and guess what his friend had been dealing with before he made it here. Not when his mind keeps replaying the conversation that he shared with you. Yijeong’s curiosity of his actions keeps triggering his memory that he can almost hear your voice again, to hear your words, and he can almost picture you being locked up inside the main palace at The Citadel as how you described it in your story.
No wonder you had been so desperate to step out of the palace.
And I had been so close, he wonders to himself as realisation dawns on him. As he recalls those long nights when he sent out his men to observe the main palace of The Citadel, only to receive reports about them being kicked back from the territory. As if there was an invisible barrier stopping them from getting too close.
Within that kind of protection, the King and his men would have been able to protect you from any kind of threat that may come towards the empire. But outside, with nothing more but the spell that had been cast inside your ruby necklace, you are more liable to incoming danger.
Just like that day in Narlès, when you were almost put to harm as you came across the group of thugs that seemed to have the ability to use dark magic to look past the shielding spell protecting you at the time.
Sighing, Yoongi shakes his head once again to brush away the thought of you coming into harm’s way. “There are varying factions in play who have set their eyes on the Wicked King at the present time, now that he has gained attention with his empire growing in strength and territory, and human kingdoms seeking alliance with him,” Yoongi says bitterly while growing more and more concerned has he continues,
“He may have succeeded in hiding the Princess’ existence from his enemies for so long, but if someone like me was able to find her through the magic that she is using to travel around, someone else could be looking the same way. Not only would they be able to trace her, they could use her as a way to get to the Wicked King once they know how important she is to him.”
Swinging his short sword side to side while looking as if he is deep in thoughts, Yijeong glances sideways at Yoongi. “Of course, you would know, because that was your initial agenda when you followed her, wasn’t it? To use her to get to the King,” Yijeong mockingly says, poking at Yoongi’s deep remorse further, leaving him speechless.
Yijeong stops talking, and the weapon that he is playing with glows under the streaks of light surrounding them as he lifts it up. “Are you sure that gaining information and protecting her at the same time were the sole reasons why you have been trailing her?”
The crease in Yoongi’s brows deepens. “What do you mean?”
Yijeong says nothing at first and continues swinging his sword around the same way he would during his practice routines. Yoongi realises that Yijeong is doing this to help him think, so he remains quiet and waits until Yijeong is ready to share his trail of thoughts.
After a short while, Yijeong stops playing with his sword and turns to face Yoongi. “I know who she is to you,” he suddenly says, and before Yoongi can say anything to respond, Yijeong continues, “I can tell from the way you’d react whenever I talk about her that she means something more. Not just a means to an end, but something more.”
“And what would that be?” Yoongi asks in return, trying to see how much Yijeong knows about his well-kept secret.
The grin on Yijeong’s face widens as he playfully—with a disrespect that should be frowned upon at the empire yet welcomed by Yoongi only because of their friendship—clutches at Yoongi’s shoulder with one hand. His eyes glowed with mirth when he speaks, “Once upon a time, back during the ancient times when fairies were roaming freely in this realm—”
Yoongi groans and mumbles, “Here we go,” not knowing where this is heading, although he does have an inkling of what his friend is trying to say.
“The Fates had found us all—our ancestors, I mean—valiant, slightly feral and unruly, but it was all because most of us had to roam through the realm without a purpose, without anything to bind us to one place, and most of them, in their lives of solitude, managed to create havoc. So they started to created us in pairs,” he continues on with a light tone while a mixture of dread and unease begins to rise in Yoongi’s chest, for knowing that his connection to you is about to be revealed.
And yet relief washes over him when Yijeong continues on to say, “The Fates gave each of the ancient fairies their love-mates, to whom a fairy would have their soul bonded with so they could have some place, someone, to come home to after their wild adventures. If only to make sure that order could take place once again in the realm. And that was before our ancestors began building our empire into what it is today.”
With a deep sigh, Yoongi feels as if the weight on his shoulders being lifted, knowing that the wouldn’t have to keep this fact as a secret for much longer. Seeing the tension in Yoongi’s body fading away, Yijeong nods and takes a step back, releasing him from his hold.
“That is what she means to you, isn’t it? She’s your love-mate,” Yijeong says. “Your soulmate, if we want to use a present term.”
Closing his eyes, Yoongi releases a deep exhale of breath and nods. “How did you know?”
Shrugging, Yijeong sheaths his sword away. “Having a soulmate is a rare thing to happen for the likes of us, especially in the present time. Now that we have order in place, finding someone who is fated to our souls have grown rare,” Yijeong muses with a soft voice. “And we’re not Weres or Vampires who are still destined to have a companion to spend the rest of their immortal lives with, so obviously, that thought never crossed my mind. Until recently.”
Yijeong turns to look straight into Yoongi’s eyes, staring deeply as he speaks with a gentle voice.
“The night I was out in the slum district of Smotia to search for the runaway mage under your command, you sent out men to track down the source of an unfamiliar mana, you felt from downtown did you not?” he asks, to which Yoongi confirms with a nod. “That was her, wasn’t it? It was the night when I met her at a tavern. Unfortunately, I had to encounter her without knowing this.”
Yoongi says nothing, so he simply continues, “But she has yet to make contact with magic then, so the only thing that I could gather is that you felt her soul that night, calling out for you for the first time.”
With a bitter chuckle, Yoongi shakes his head. “I keep forgetting how perceptive you can be. I still don’t understand how you managed to put things together when I tried my best not to give it away.”
Yijeong responds with a scoff. “I’ve been to places, just like you have been, remember?” he grins, causing Yoongi to chuckle. “I’ve seen soulmates recognising one another, and how they were able to find each other through the invisible threads pulling them together. And I’ve seen how these bonds growing and strengthening once they gave in to the connection that was fated for them. It isn’t hard to notice that you are being drawn to her presence the same way, that it wasn’t just the magic that she is using which helps you to find her.”
Narrowing his eyes at Yoongi, he tilts his head, as if he is trying to get a read of the Crown Prince. “I can tell that the more you spend time with her, as you keep getting close to her, the more you would be able to feel it. Is that also the reason why you have been staying close? Have you been trying to confirm the bond that you have between you?”
Yoongi’s shoulders sag in defeat for the first time. “Again, you are too perceptive for your own good,” he says, drawing a smile on Yijeong’s face as he looks at Yoongi without a hint of guilt in his eyes. If any, the Sergeant of his Empire’s army looks proud of himself for being able to read him.
“You are partly right, as much as I hate to admit it. I wasn’t sure about the mate bond, thinking that it was nothing more but an old myth that belonged in the past. I didn’t even want to admit it to myself, much less to share this with anyone else. Not until I have everything confirmed and make sure that
Yijeong leans back against the tree behind him. “When you first told me that Queen Milena had a child, and that the Wicked King may have been hiding her from the world, I had an inkling that there was something more about her that may have caused you to be so invested in finding her, but a part of me refused to believe it.”
Yijeong squints his eyes as he gauges Yoongi’s reaction, who isn’t giving him much. Not like it would be easy for him to see it anyway, with the bamboo hat shielding his emotions and the dark crawling closer now that the sun is completely gone.
“I couldn’t put it together until recently, only after I went on that mission to the Werewolf Kingdom, East Hallow, and met this newly mated couple who had hired me because they have been in a bind,” Yijeong continues.
“And then, of course, the matter that happened with your necklace,” he adds, as his gaze flickers down Yoongi’s chest, right where he knows the necklace would be hanging under the thin shirt that Yoongi is wearing. “The first time she used the portal by herself, your necklace showed a reaction. I thought that it happened simply because your magic reacted to the portal magic that mirrored your family’s, but I know that there is something else affecting it.”
Yoongi clenches his hands, resisting the need to reach for it as Yijeong continues, “Your amulet was supposed to help you find her, wasn’t it?”
“I hate that you are always right,” Yoongi says as he lifts his head with a deep huff of breath. Carefully, he reaches up to his neck to pull the necklace out of his shirt. The amulet shines in the dark, sprinkles of blue dust coming out of the stone, allowing Yoongi to tell the moment you walk through the portal taking you back home.
“The amulet—it was imbued by the same magic that was passed on to me by my father. It was supposed to help me track down the source of magic that The Wicked King had kept hidden from us. Obviously, I never thought that she would have access to the magic herself in the King’s absence,” Yoongi explains while he continues to observe the reaction coming out of the necklace, until the blue gleam begins to fade.
“But the Emperor had placed another spell inside the amulet,” he adds, as his memory takes him back to the Emperor’s chambers, on the day he received the secret mission from his ailing father. “A spell that he once used to track down the Queen, altered in a way that I would be able to make use of it by tracking down the only missing link I may have left to find the Queen.”
Yijeong nods. “The Princess. Your true soulmate. Which gave you another purpose for you to go through with this mission.”
Once again, Yijeong surprises him for being able to surmise this much. What Yoongi cannot reveal to Yijeong is that he is right about Yoongi finding a new purpose now after meeting you.
Thinking about you only reminds him yet again of your story. Picturing you living such a sheltered life before you were finally brought here to the fairy tale realm causes a tight pinch in his chest.
If only you hadn’t been under the Wicked King’s care, perhaps you could have had so much more. You could have been able to see the world, to experience life the way you deserve it. Instead of having to find it by sneaking out of the palace’s walls and slipping away from the King’s guards with measly disguises protecting you, or by sneaking through the King’s hidden portals just to see the world.
Recalling the way you looked at your surroundings when he took you on a walk across the meadow today, how your eyes were filled with wonder and joy the whole time, Yoongi hates thinking that you were never given the chance to have it all.
When Yoongi talked about you finding freedom during your excursion back in the market town, he never could have known how close he was from the truth. He also never expected that you would admit to it so openly once he gave you the opportunity to share a bit of your life. Bot now, after listening to your story, he can’t decide if he should be happy that he had been right about your circumstances, knowing now what kind of life that you have had to endure under the Wicked King’s rules.
But knowing the truth had only made him feel determined to change that.
The freedom that you have been yearning so badly in life, Yoongi is willing to give it to you in a heartbeat, to make it possible the moment you allow him to do it for you, to help you escape from the life that you had to remain stuck in because of your family’s secrets.
Despite the trust that he has for his friend, Yoongi has no idea how much about this fact that he could share. Even with the signs, how his feelings are constantly growing within him, the doubt that he feels about this soulmate bond is still present in his thoughts. No matter how small, it does come in his way of focusing on his true mission for reclaiming the empire’s true glory.
“Look, I’m not here to stop you from messing around with her,” Yijeong casually says as he straightens up right in front of Yoongi while giving him a slight bow, a gesture that is meant to show respect to the apparent heir of the empire’s throne, which only means that whatever it is that Yijeong might say next would be important enough for him to shed his title as the Crown Prince’s best friend.
The sudden formal stance that Yijeong holds as he speaks only makes Yoongi grow wary. Because despite the calm tone of his voice, Yijeong’s gaze becomes hard when he looks at Yoongi to say, “You’ve been summoned.”
Swallowing down the uneasiness taking over him, Yoongi lifts his chin to ask, “By who?”
Yijeong refrains from answering for a moment, which isn’t making things any better. But Yoongi’s unsettling gaze soon makes him waver, and Yijeong has to reluctantly speak up. “The Empress wants to see you.”
Sighing to himself, Yoongi tries not to be bothered by the news. He had somehow expected that the Empress would one day find a way to bring him home under her terms. Being left in the dark with no power in her hands would have made her feel restless, especially knowing that she no longer has any control of Yoongi as long as he is away from home.
He shouldn’t worry about the Empress when he has eyes on her even when he is away. But it does make him wonder what the Empress is up to now.
“Did she say what she wanted?”
“Only that she wishes to see you. To talk,” Yijeong continues with a small grin. Yet the bitter and unamused tone that he is using when he talks about the Empress’ wicked schemes makes Yoongi grow restless even before Yijeong adds, “She has guests staying at the empire that she wishes you to meet.”
Something flares in his eyes, and Yoongi’s chest tightens. He doesn’t like seeing that look. Not from him. And Yoongi already knows that he wouldn’t like whatever Yijeong is about to say next.
Yoongi seethes. His voice is filled with venom when he asks his loyal friend, “Who?”
“Byron Koshar. The Emperor of the Neo Empire of Kosha.” Yijeong’s voice is filled with hatred as he mentions the name of their former enemy, and that hatred brings chill running down Yoongi’s spine when his friend continues to say, “And his daughter, Princess Celestyna, the second Princess.”
— © 2024 Yoonia, all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any kind is not allowed. unsolicited translations are not allowed.
#yoongi fanfic#yoongi scenarios#k-vanity#btscreaturescoven#bangtanwhq#yoongi scenario#yoongi smut#yoongi angst#yoongi fluff#suga scenario#suga smut#suga angst#suga fluff#yoongi x reader#suga x reader#bts fanfic#bts scenario#bts smut#bts angst#bts fluff#bts x reader
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Fic: Tracy Seaside Orchard and Farm - Part 16
Summary: Alternate Universe. Gordon is a farmer. And he seems to have nothing to do with International Rescue. Now on AO3! Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Family.*Warnings: phobias and panic attacks*
Prologue here Chapter 1: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Ao3 Chapter 2: Part 4 | Part 5 | AO3 Chapter 3: Part 6 | Part 7 | Ao3 Chapter 4: Part 8 | Part 9 | Ao3 Chapter 5: Part 10 | Part 11 | Ao3 Chapter 6 Part 12 | Ao3 Chapter 7: Part 13 | Ao3 Chapter 8: Part 14 | Ao3 Chapter 9: Part 15 | Ao3 Chapter 10: Part 16 (you are here)
A/N: Let’s ignore that I should be resting. I don’t have a chapter ready but I do have a part done, which now that we are past the harder, heavy sections.... why not. You deserve it for sticking with me, tumblr. Who wanted big brother BootScoot? it might be obvious I was sick at the end/still *****
Part 16 (Part of Chapter 10)
The hour grew late and it was deep in the night before the party dispersed and they made their way back to Gordon’s home. Scott planned to stick around until the next day to help with clean-up efforts as long as there were no significant callouts. He flung his boots off by the door, and by the time he came out of the guest restroom, Gordon and Virgil had taken over the couch he planned to frequent for the evening. Though, only one of his siblings was awake, staring down at the sleeping figure of their younger brother, still with a mix of awe and paranoia that if he looked away he might disappear.
“He’ll feel like hell in the morning if we leave him like that.” Scott approached the two of them, gently slipping his hands under Gordon’s back and knees and lifting him up into his arms with a grunt. In sleep, Gordon sighed deeply, his head downturned in the pillow of Scott’s chest.
“Wanna help?” he asked Virgil, swinging the door to Gordon’s bedroom further open with the flick of his foot. “Can you grab his cane and the blanket?”
Virgil hadn’t had the chance to look around Gordon’s room earlier that evening, so focused he was on getting Gordon comfortable that he’d beelined for the weighted blanket that rested at the foot of his bed. But now, in the quiet of their breathing, Virgil took a moment to look around the haven space that his brother had created within his home.
The primary color scheme was green, if only for the plants that covered wall to ceiling, including a thriving peace lily so like the one he’d been given when he arrived.
Beyond the greenery, Gordon favored the natural look of the wood of his house, with splashes of color to accompany the neutrals. What was missing was the nautical aesthetic that pervaded the rest of the home; counter to the ship’s wheel of the living space, Gordon’s bedroom was a call back to land with its wide windows opened out towards the farm, foundations of wood with one complete wall in rustic red brick.
Tucked in a corner was a writing desk and chair set Virgil hadn’t noticed at all initially with a laptop sitting closed on top.
Overtop his headboard, a massive macrame art piece draped down from a piece of driftwood, the thick beige cords braided and knotted into an array of chevrons and diamonds above a backdrop of long fringe. Shelving built atop a modest series of dresser drawers was filled corner to corner with different recipe books, instructional manuals, the occasional fiction novel, collections of plant and animal identifications, and finally, what Virgil immediately recognized as copies of John’s texts. The books were well-loved and interspersed on the bookcase with a small display of single stem vases and picture frames.
He recognized in the collection of memories a copy of their parents’ wedding photo, one of the few Christmas family photos where all five kids were looking toward the camera and Dad had been home to join in, a candid shot someone had taken of a young Gordon cooking with Grandma in which more flour had landed in Gordon’s hair than in the batter.
“Is this your first time in here?”
No, not really. But also, in an entirely different way, “Yes.”
It was one thing to notice the large television screen and the French casement windows on his way towards grabbing the blanket Gordon needed, and another thing altogether to spend the time noticing the details he’d missed. The important information, like the cross-stitch hoops hung on the wall with inspirational quotes and initialed with a JS, the open banjo case set near a guitar case and one nearly the same shape, but much smaller – his old ukulele.
“Come around here.” Scott gestured for Virgil to come closer to the side of the bed, reaching for the blanket in Virgil’s hands and opening it wide to cover their brother’s curled form. He tucked the corners in close. “Over here.”
Gordon’s nightstand held simply a chicken figurine and handmade cotton coaster. But hanging above, originally blocked from Virgil’s view by Scott’s height, was a watercolor of a trio of delicate daffodils against a light background of blue sky fading into the edges of the canvas. In the lower righthand corner was his own signature scrawl of V. Tracy.
He remembered it well, a set of three art pieces he’d donated for one of Lady Penelope’s charity auctions, watercolors because it had been for ocean conservation. Of the three florals, the daffodils were his favorite, and he could remember down to the song the inspiration behind them. By nature of the charity, one that had been so close to his brother’s heart, his music had switched to a song that reminded him of Gordon and he painted his forgiveness in yellow flowers. That’s what made the final painting the best of the three.
And yet he hadn’t meant for Gordon to ever see it back then.
“How?”
Scott gestured towards the sky.
“John sent Gordon the auction details,” Scott admitted. “The rest was him. I didn’t know he had one of your pieces until the next time I visited.”
Not just one of his pieces, but that piece. Virgil guessed Scott didn’t understand just how significant it was that the artwork found its way to Gordon’s hands. Forgiveness was a tricky thing; he’d been missing his brother and momentarily ready to ignore the aching in heart for the happy memories they held. But when it came time to donate the work, he hadn’t thought twice sending it away to Lady P. The release was welcome, but he hadn’t been ready.
But the flowers were where they belonged, and he was happy now to see them framed amidst the rest of the natural flora of Gordon’s space.
“Come on, Virgil,” Scott tugged on his shoulder. “We should give him peace to rest. Let’s talk.”
“One moment.” He needed to check his vitals one more time, and if he hitched the blanket more comfortably around Gordon’s shoulders even though Scott had already done so, his older brother had the good sense not to make a big deal about it. Gordon was healthy, safe, and comfortable, and that’s what mattered.
~*~
“We never wanted to keep this from you.” Scott leaned back against the counter sink, his arms crossed at his chest, but expression soft. “It was the right thing to do for Gordon at the time.”
Virgil hummed, his fingers idly strumming the banjo they’d forgotten to return to its case, abandoned at the door when Gordon had crashed on the couch. The music kept him centered, considering the day had been one of the lowest lows and the highest highs. His heart had been through a roller coaster of fear, and regret, and hurt, and vulnerability, and love.
Emotionally, he was spent.
“I don’t have it in me to be anything other than grateful anymore,” Virgil said, and he meant every word of it, glancing up from the wail of the banjo to Scott’s sky-blues. “I’m not mad. It hasn’t gotten me anywhere in the past being mad. Clearly.”
Scott nodded. “You’ve had a long day.”
Understatement, truly. He laughed wryly, propping the instrument against the table, and standing up to meet his brother’s height, and Scott straightened his shoulders.
“There’s just one thing I’d like to know still,” Virgil said. “Did you know what Gordon was doing pushing me away for the sake of International Rescue?” He’d never said it with such disdain. “Please tell me that’s not why you never told me where he was.”
Scott shook his head sadly. “I just tried to do what was right by the two of you. Gordon’s reasons were his own, as were yours. I wouldn’t have kept it quiet because of IR. I believe our family should come before International Rescue.”
“Prove it.”
“What?”
“You heard me. It’s time to actually mean it. What’s done is done, but when I get home, things change. We all plan to come to the bonfire, and if there are other events, we attend those too. We invite him to the Island if its something he wants to try to do, and if not, we come here as often as he will have us. I don’t want to lose anymore Christmases or birthdays. He doesn’t deserve to miss anymore either.”
Scott nodded. “I agree. Of course I do. But, Virg,” he gently placed his hands on either side of Virgil’s shoulders, realizing his brother hadn’t realized what he’d said, “I need to ask, are you ready to? Come home with me tomorrow, I mean?”
A beat as Virgil expelled a breath, he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
“Oh.” Softly, “Can I let you know tomorrow?”
#gavii scribit#fic: TSOF#Farming Estate AU#chicken!Dad#Gordon Tracy#Virgil Tracy#Scott Tracy#hurt/comfort#thunderangst
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Just want to say thank you so much for your guys love and support on this series. I genuinely appreciate it. My request box is open and empty and I love getting requests, whether it’s AUs or something else. If you want to be tagged let me know.
Milena knocks on your old apartment door. No answer. She knocks again and still no answer. This was ridiculous, what was the point of this? You’re just some tagger running with some men doing who knows what. Honestly she wants to be going over more of the land deals and getting home and health inspectors into that neighbourhood as soon as possible. More evictions more chances to rebuild.
Milena turns to walk away when she sees you, stopping her in her tracks. You have your bag over your shoulder, wearing a hoodie with a leather jacket overtop. You’re wearing a cap you “borrowed” from Kyle, old jeans and gloves. Of course you also had your scarf on.
If you didn’t know who Milena really was you would be wondering why she’s here, but you have some guesses. Before approaching her you noticed her approaching your building. You’d caught a photo and asked for instructions from your friends. You have a small group chat with them but Price and Ghost were busy doing other stuff. So Kyle and Johnny were left to take charge. Kyle suggested hiding and waiting until she left. Johnny said to see what she wants.
Y/N: what do I say if she sees me?
K: Be nice.
J: mess with her!
The texts came at the same time. Then Johnny sent another.
J: Record it too!
Your phone is recording audio, as you simply stand there waiting for the socialite to start talking.
“Sorry do you know who lives here?” She asks you.
“Yep.” You say. There’s a pause as you just stare at her.
“Um, is the landlord here today? I need to talk to him about this apartment. I was told it’s going up for sale.”
“No it‘s not and no you weren’t.” You say with a slight smirk.
“I’m sorry?” She asks sounding irritated.
“Do you want to take a look around? Seriously it ain’t impressive.” You say walking up to her casually and unlocking the door. She steps back as if you were dog rushing up to bark at her. You step inside and hold the door open for her.
“Still occupied, sorry. But it’s the same as every other apartment if you’re interested in moving in. Come in I don’t mind.” You leave the view of the door frame and go to the kitchen, setting your bag down in the corner. Milena can do plenty, but this is your own personal turf.
“Want a drink?” You ask, opening the fridge, and your garbage. Good thing you stopped by to grab stuff, the last thing you want is a mushroom farm in your fridge.
“Coffee or something stronger.” she says, absently surveying your unit.
“Uh… sorry don’t really have… cider okay?” You ask tossing another expired container into the bin.
“It’ll do.” She says, sitting in one of the chairs in the living room as if it were her own office. You shrug it off and get her a can of cider. Oh shit you forgot you had those. Definitely need to take those back with you for a personal pleasure. Hopefully none of them liked popping boba.
“So uh…” you start as you close the fridge. “You trying to evict me? Like the homes down in the south east neighbourhood?”
Milena looks up at you with wild eyes as you hand her the drink as if you found her diary.
“I don’t know what you mean.” She says taking the drink, eyeing the tab.
“New manicure? Here.” You take the drink from her and open it. “So what’s up.”
“I came to give you an invitation to a party.” She says offering you an envelope. You take it and look it over before looking at her.
“How old are you?” You ask.
“Excuse me?” She says offended. Damn she was easy.
“Milena Romanova, realtor and socialite. You make a lot of money in real estate and land deals. Land deals that don’t land the same money you do. Must be good.” Milena looks ticked.
“Now you’re funding the police, making friendly donations and spending time with the chief commissioner.”
“What are y-“
“Just making small talk. A couple guys I know from the precinct told me you guys are dating.” You say reclining on your old sofa, as if it were a throne. Milena doesn’t know what to make of you. You are certainly…different.
“My love life is my own.” Milena states. You shrug. “The invitation is for an event, inviting a few large names from the city. I understand you’re an aspiring artist.”
“Something like that.” You admit. Hopefully she hadn’t seen your most recent work. It may or may not have involved her posing on houses with… unmentionables spilling out the windows.
“I believe this could be a great opportunity for you. I know plenty of large names and often have art showcased at open houses.”
“Not sure I have the money to afford a nice outfit.” You say.
“If you’d like I could buy a couple of your pieces to cover costs. Of course it’s your choice.” She offers. She stands without you giving an answer, and leaving the open untouched can of cider on the coffee table along with the invitation.
“I have places to be. I hope to see you there.” She says going to the door. Milena steps out but turns to address you.
“I should mention, the chief commissioner has been looking for you. I think he’d like to get to know you more. If you don’t mind I’ll let him know where he can find you.” And without another word, she shuts the door. The room is silent. All you hear is the sound of the carbonation from Milena’s open cider. You take the cider and take a swig before getting to work.
Then you hear a noise from one of the rooms. You keep your phone recording, and go to your bag taking out your gun. You keep it pointed to the ground as you get closer to the closed door. You put a hand on the knob before shoving it open aiming the gun at the intruder.
“You mother fucker!” You shout.
“I can explain.” Graves says.
“Like hell you can.” You say. “Also my bedroom, seriously? This is a whole new level of creepy.”
“Thank you I try.” Graves puts sarcastically. “I came to leave you a note, I assumed you’d return. I wanted to warn you about Makarov but… you just had tea time with Milena.”
“Hardly tea time, she didn’t drink anything.” You say. “She follow you?”
“I hope not. Just in case don’t leave for a few hours.” Graves says. You nod understanding. “Stupid question but why are you here?”
“Came to pick up extra stuff.” You say going around him and getting the duffle bag from your closet. You start packing, and your hoodie sleeve slides up again. Graves notices.
“Who grabbed you… or are you and the boys of the 141 getting clo-“ Graves stops the question after you glare at him. “Teasing.”
“…Nolan grabbed me. I don’t know his last name.” You admit. You haven’t told anyone else.
“Does Price know?” He asks. You shrug and focus on packing extra clothes, before going to the bathroom to grab some extra supplies. Graves is quiet.
“You gonna go to the party?” He asks.
“Haven’t decided.” You say.
“Let me know if you want a ride.” He offers. “Take it Milena hasn’t seen your recent work. Hoo boy that’s some slander.”
You look at him, incredulous. “You saw nothing.”
“I saw works of art, and have no clue where they came from.” Graves says raising his hands. You smile a little but he doesn’t get to see it.
“How are you doing?” Graves asks. “You eating okay? Sleeping well?”
“The guys take good care of me.” You say coming back to the bag with a couple of items. You look around the room to see if you’re missing anything else.
“He’s getting close.” Graves says. “Makarov keeps asking me about you, and I’m giving him what I can without putting either of us at risk.”
“I need a favour.” You admit. Graves raises an eyebrow. “There’s a raid planned. The… a gang went to the docks a while ago trying to take down a drug shipment, but the drugs were protected. I know when the next raid will happen, and if you’re there you can look further into it.”
Graves stands there, admittedly surprised. You were giving him a lead, one to Makarov sure, but one that could get the others in shit.
“Send a tip to the station, make sure it comes to me and only me ya got that.” He instructs. You nod.
“Thank you.” You say. Graves gives a nod, and it’s an awkward silence. Graves looks at your wrist again.
“He grab you anywhere else?” He asks calmly. You rub your arm, and Graves sighs. Without warning he holds your shoulders, before pulling you into a hug. It’s oddly nice. A comfort. You can’t talk to Graves much but right now, you feel like you could spill your guts and he would listen.
“You stay safe kiddo.” He says quietly, not expecting you to hear it. You do. And you just squeeze a little tighter. He lets you go, looking down at you. Graves is about to say something but stops himself.
“Chill here, call a ride, go home.” He says. You nod and after a final good bye he walks out into the night.
Milena came over to Makarov’s home, greeting him with a kind smile.
“They’re all sent out?” He asks.
“Of course.” She says.
“Now we wait.” Makarov says. “The pieces will fall where they need to.”
Taglist: @yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @sans-chara @1mommyrose4ever29 @tai-the-gemini @yuki2129 @whitetiger846 @graystorm444 @chibiduck @reaperxxxxzz @danielle143 @sobbingnshtting @cringeycookies @cryingpages @smitten-haematite-quartz @dcnocap207
#kyle gaz garrick#john soap mactavish#cod au#task force 141 x reader#gangster au#cod gangster au#milena romanova#vladimir makarov#phillip graves#gangster#gn reader#gender neutral reader#task force 141#task force x reader#simon ghost riley#captain john price#call of duty au
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Because I overthink here is a map for the TWST Monster AU
Click read more for a description of each place and who lives there.
The Town of Holyisle: A human town with a monastery run by the abbot, Rollo. The population of the village is fully human and monsters are seen as enemies that should be shunned.
Yuu's Home: Home of the witch, Yuu, and their cat-like imp familiar, Grim. They often make potions for the Riverside Village and the town of Holyisle.
Riverside Village: A farming village that's the home of both monsters and humans. The Lord of the Village is the centaur, Riddle, whose servants include Trey, the minotaur, as his personal cook, Cater, the slime, as his financial advisor, and Che'nya, a catfolk menace who refuses to leave. There are also two newer servants, Deuce, the rabbitfolk, and Ace, the satyr. Another notable figure is the local historian, the human Trein.
Shoreside Reef: A town just off the coast filled fully with merfolk. The head of the village is Azul, an octopus merfolk who also engages heavily with trade on the island and has established a number of businesses on land. His closest confidants are Jade and Floyd, twin eel merfolk who do the dirty work for Azul.
Haunted Cave: A mysterious cave guarded by a small automaton named Ortho who is meant to protect the cave from outsiders, but he mostly just spends time with the resident ghost who is also his brother, Idia.
The City of Pomme: A large city with a population that's mostly monsters. The Lord of the City is the demons, Vil, who is also a popular actor in his theater company. His personal assistant is Rook, a troll and hunter, who was a fan of his performances. The new up and coming star is the fairy Epel who has been taken under Vil's wing. Another popular actor is the angel Neige who is the lead actor in a rival theater company. Another notable figure is the seamster and fasion designer, Crewel.
Duskfall Savanna: A fully monster city with a majority of the population being beastfolk. The lord of the city is Leona, a lionfolk, who doesn't really like his position. His personal servant is the hyenafolk, Ruggie. The gardener for Leona's estate is a wolfolk named Jack. Another notable figure is Vargas, a manticore, who is known for causing chaos from time to time.
Scalding Oasis: A desert city known for its many monster artisans and high quality goods. The Lord of the City is the harpy, Kalim, who is always accompanied by his servant, the naga Jamil. Another notable person is the ghoul, Sam, who runs the most expansive market in the entire oasis.
The Dragon's Domain: A territory ruled by the dragon, Malleus, who lives in his own personal tower. The others who live in his territory include the vampire batfolk, Lilia, the lizardfolk, Sebek, and the centaur, Silver who help care for the territory and act and confidants of Malleus.
Old Ruins: Not much is known about the old ruins other than it acts as a home for a dark feathered harpy.
#twst writings#twst x reader#twst thots#twst#twst monsterfucking#twst monster au#lemme know y'all's thoughts cause nothing is set in stone yet#this is just my current draft of locations so I can start figuring out things#if anyone has like story ideas of why Yuu would visit all these places please give me
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we need need neeed a charles variant of the media naranja fic :( just a multiple lives au even just a drabble or a headcanon auds audrey big a please only u do this shit justice
bec this has been rotting and i needed to practice writing :)
divine sense – cl16
Charles is always led back to you. title from this
“Your mole is nice,” he says, cutting himself off and thinking a bit more on his words. “It sits just there, on the corner of your eye.”
“Really? God.” You poke at it, rub over it even if it sits relatively flat and unassuming and a bit tiny. “I’ve always hated it. People mistake it for leftover eyeliner or mascara all the time, and it’s—whatever.”
“It’s pretty.” His gaze could light you on fire and water it down all at once. “It’s one of the first things I noticed about you. Granted, I thought it was a, uh, how you say? Mascara, yes, that flicked off your eye a bit, but now it’s just there. I like it.”
A slow smile creeps its way onto your lips and you bite it back, to no avail. “Thank you.”
“It’s the reason why you look so familiar to me.” My mole? You ask, your head turning to the side a bit. He nods. “I don’t know why, either. I mean, clearly we didn’t know each other then. But something about you—you’ve always felt familiar, I think.”
“I have?”
The trees are greener in the spring, but they’re thin still, not yet too thick with leaves that will fade into orange and die and fall. It’s perfect, Charles thinks, because then the sun filters perfectly through the green of them and shines through the blinds and onto your face, smiling tenderly and warm and waiting. Your eyelashes cast a shadow across the rest of your face and he could stare forever.
“You have.”
—
“Did you get mascara on your eye?”
“What? Oh. Fuck, no. This—it’s a mole.” You turn quickly to the mirror. “I know, it looks a bit like it, yeah.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.”
“It’s all good. So, Charles, right?” You reread the application sheet and stretch a hand forward to shake his. “My new roommate… taking up Architecture.”
“Yep.” He smiles proudly, the emblem of your university front and centre on his sweatshirt. “I hope this doesn’t sound weird, but have I met you before? You just look a little familiar. Mole and all.”
“Oh.” Instinctively, you reach up to touch the area on which it sits. “I don’t think so, sorry. Um, but in my Lit class, we did have a discussion about how… like… moles are places where you were kissed in your past life.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah.” You smile up at him. The fall breeze filters through the open living room window, blowing tendrils of hair over your face that you’re quick to brush away. “Granted, I don’t know who would want to kiss an area like this.”
“You don’t?”
And maybe you’re a bit loopy from the drive, or hungry from waking up early, or maybe not at all. Maybe Charles the college roommate is messing with you, or maybe pulling a prank, or maybe not at all. The sunset today is beginning to tint the room and his pretty face a muted orange and you could stare forever.
“I don’t.”
—
Your first time in Italy is marked by a series of ugly firsts: first catcall, mistranslation, scam, blistered heel. But you make it, despite it all, to your foster family’s farm estate, all old vine-caked buildings and stables and lemon trees. You spot somebody poking their head out of the upstairs window but the mop of hair disappears just as quickly.
The door is answered by Pascale—the one you’d been corresponding with prior to today. With her is her husband, Hervé, and two sons, one of whom is somewhere in the house getting your room tidy, she says apologetically. You’re quick to quell her apology, sated by the ice water and bowl of fruit (Hervé says something about picking them all out himself; Arthur, the younger one, pulls you aside with a boyish smile and says it was actually him.)
“Lorenzo is off at university for summer classes,” Pascale explains when she’s putting the second spoonful of pasta on your plate. “So I am stuck with Arthur here, and Charles. He’s about your age, yes? Twenty-two in October.”
Charles descends into the kitchen talking in rapid Italian to his mom, that only tapers off when he sees you at the table. You smile, dopey, raising a careful hand to wave.
He stares.
“Vieni a sederti,” Pascale says, pointing to the empty seat beside you. Shyly, he takes a seat and fills up his glass with water—then yours.
“Oh,” you say. “Thank you.” Your gaze travels to him, and find he’s already looking—at the corner of your eye.
“It’s a mole,” you clarify with a quiet, pretty laugh. “Are you excited to take me around? Pascale says you’re my tour guide.”
“Sure, sure.” He laughs. “Where do you want to go?”
Hervé has played some Italian music on his vinyl, so it’s what scratchily plays through the dining area, accompanied by the scent of garlic and lemon and olive from the trees outside, blowing a gentle breeze through the archway of the house.
You turn away from his green eyes to answer one of Arthur’s questions, peppering chili flakes over your aglio olio to twirl and deposit into your mouth. One red flake stays on your lip and he imagines swiping it off with his thumb. Your eyes meet his again, gaze amused and gentle and Charles could stare forever.
“Anywhere, really.”
—
“Oh, honey,” you whine playfully, letting your husband crowd you against the counter of your kitchen, peppering kisses all over your face. “Missed me that much?”
“You know I did.” He parts from you, and even if he's taller his gaze seems to convey looking up at you, adoration and love crowding his green eyes. A hand caresses your jaw, cheek; his thumb rubs over the corner of your eye. The blank skin there, unmarked, unblemished.
He kisses it. His favorite spot. “I woke up this morning thinking about you,” he says fondly.
“About how I left you in charge of changing Mila while I slept in?” You tease lowly, forehead pressed to his.
“About how in love I am with you,” he says honestly. Your heart pulses. It was never a whirlwind of love for either of you. It was slow, warm, familiar. Hey, you.
Despite that, he means it, you know he does, he’s never failed to show just how much. When he wakes up early to change Mila, or when he takes charge of the stove when you’re sleepy. When he lets you walk him around the winding avenues of Manhattan to get cookies or a good coffee or a better beer. When he watches you sing karaoke tipsily, Billy Joel or The Smiths. The way he memorizes every part of you, the way he knows you. Any and all of the love Charles ever had and ever felt always answered to you.
Lips meet the corner of your eye again. “You know that? I love you. You changed me. You know that, right?”
You could stay forever, in the dusk of the city, questions suspended in the air to be lovingly answered in the lifetimes to follow. They will come, though. You can stay for now—you’ve done your waiting for a love like this.
You smile. “Right.”
#f1#charles leclerc#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc smut#charles leclerc imagines#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc drabble
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Is Ezekiel one of your favs? You talk a LOT about him and pick that little feral farm boy apart several times over (love seeing dissections of him don’t get me wrong)
Not really. He's just interesting to think about.
Ezekiel’s character is probably the most tragic one out of the whole series; he enters the show incredibly naive and sheltered, gets eliminated first for parroting misogynistic views he obviously internalised from someone else (most likely an authority figure in his life, and given the nature of his incredibly isolated upbringing that's most certainly his dad) and is immediately universally disliked by the people around him.
He fundamentally changes himself to be (what he believes is) more appealing to the world at large, only to be faced with the same treatment.
And then he literally goes feral. Not even in a metaphorical sense - this kid goes full Gollum Mode and starts living underground with mutated gophers after throwing himself into an active volcano.
His whole story arc on the show is objectively a tragedy, which is free real estate for things like AUs and, in my case, character analysis.
What could he have done differently to prevent his fate? Why was he so hellbent on winning in World Tour to the point his body and mind started to decay?
Why he geen? 🟢
#It's the angst potential that makes him interesting.#And it's the silliness of his character pre-WT that makes him fun to write.#Though I would still like to know why he turned green.#total drama#td ezekiel#replies
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12. Pine
(on ao3 here)
A summary, for context: Lena knows that Kara Danvers is the love of her life, but life always had different plans for them. Kara’s dream has always been to take over her family’s Christmas tree farm. Lena runs one of the most successful tech companies halfway across the country. They’re both happy with their lives, except for one thing.
Lena’s only in Midvale for the weekend to meet with the family lawyers to settle the Luthor estate. She definitely doesn’t have the time or mental energy to see Kara, after everything that’s happened between them. But will she see Kara anyway?
Or, an excerpt from the angsty high school sweethearts/situationship/‘Tis the Damn Season AU that’s been bouncing around in my head for months.
CW for marijuana use.
———
Lena’s phone buzzes in quick succession. Glancing down, she sees two Instagram notifications from kdanvers07 overlaid over the picture of her dog she has as her lock screen background.
Lena sighs. Lena’s not sure why she accepted the first Instagram direct message from Kara all those years ago. Her publicist is the one who had suggested (well, forced, rather) Lena to create a public social media profile. People like to see your day-to-day life. It makes you seem more human, her publicist had said. Lena really didn’t think people cared what she ate for breakfast or which dress she wore to last week's museum gala, but somehow, they had flocked to her account by the thousands.
Kara likely hadn’t thought that Lena would ever see the initial direct message she had sent. Lena could scroll back through their message exchange to the beginning, but she knows it by heart.
It was in response to one of her first Instagram stories, a candid photo of Lena in front of a cake with a giant sparkler in the middle. Lena had her eyes closed, laughing and trying to block the photographer from taking the picture.
Happy birthday. You look just as gorgeous as ever, Kara had written. Lena had found it in her DMs by accident later that night, wine drunk and alone in her apartment. It had been five years since Lena had seen or even talked with Kara.
Without thinking much about the implications, Lena had navigated to Kara’s profile. She had slowly scrolled through the photos – pictures of Kara at her favorite coffee shop, with her sister Alex at some undisclosed bar, playing board games with friends.
Lena had lingered on one in particular: a candid of Kara walking away from the camera in the distance towards the edge of her family’s Christmas tree farm, looking over her left shoulder. Kara’s slim figure and broad shoulders were accentuated by the red flannel and tight jeans she was wearing, her long blonde hair down and wavy under her beanie.
Lena had tapped twice to like it before she realized that it was a two year old photo. There was no undoing that impulsive mistake, so she had tapped the “follow” button and responded to Kara’s DM with a single red heart emoji.
Lena swipes open the app and sees the two most recent messages from Kara.
How long are you in Midvale for?
Can I see you?
Lena sighs. She’s only really in town for the weekend to deal with the issue of her parents’ estate. She doubts she’ll have time for much else, but… there’s always a but. Lena knows what will inevitably happen if they get together like the plot of her favorite book.
She recalls the last time she had been in Midvale, the last time she had seen Kara two years ago. Lena was in town, reluctantly, to visit her stepmother, Lillian, and things had gone poorly, as usual. Snide jabs at Lena throughout dinner weren’t anything out of the ordinary, but this particular dinner had been more vicious than usual. Despite everything, Lena was concerned that perhaps Lillian was getting lonely, here in this giant mansion without her husband and children.
And then, Lillian had dropped the bomb on her.
Lena hadn’t known who else to call that night. Her best friend, Sam, was in Europe working on a merger, and would have long put her phone on do not disturb to get some sleep. And her brother, Lex, would have likely said something snarky about interrupting his evening’s activities before hanging up the phone and leaving Lena alone to her thoughts.
So she had pulled out her phone and messaged Kara, who picked her up in her old pickup truck at the end of the long driveway ten minutes later (despite the fact that Lena knew Kara’s apartment was fifteen minutes away).
“You don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to,” Kara says, a hand on the wheel as she glances over at her in the passenger seat. “I thought we could just drive around for a while. Get you out of the house.” Lena nods.
”That sounds nice, thank you, Kara.” She picks at the cuticles of her fingers in her lap and looks out the window as the trees begin to thin out. Lena watches as they pass through the tiny town square of Midtown, then Kara takes a right and they head back out into the forest. Kara grabs her hand and brings it into her lap, entwined with hers.
Minutes pass, maybe hours. Lena’s not really sure, and she’s lost count of the songs that have played on the crackly radio from the local country station when she spies a familiar gate. The truck rumbles as Kara guides it onto gravel and slides it into park. With a smile, Kara squeezes her hand and opens the car door, hurrying around to open Lena’s before Lena can reach for the handle.
The parking lot of the Christmas tree farm is completely empty. It’s late January — the part of the year where there's not much work on the farm. Kara grabs her hand and leads her to the bed of the pickup truck, opening the hatch and hopping up. Lena takes the offered hand and joins Kara.
Silently, Kara slides a flask and a hand-rolled joint from the pocket of her chore jacket and presents them to Lena, her eyebrows raised in question. Lena considers, then grabs the joint. Alcohol will just make her more morose. Kara smirks and pockets the flask, producing a lighter. Lena puts the joint in between her her lips, and Kara leans close to Lena to light the joint. Lena can't help but watch Kara's hands as she flicks the lighter.
Lena takes a drag and immediately, the tension in her neck releases. She closes her eyes, exhales. Her eyes open and immediately find Kara's deep blue eyes on her. Kara's cheeks redden slightly at getting caught staring, but she doesn't look away.
Lena pinches the joint between her fingers and passes it to Kara. Holding eye contact, Kara places it in between her lips. They look just as soft and plump as Lena remembers them.
Kara says nothing, waiting for Lena to be ready to talk, as they pass the joint back and forth. Lena's gaze wanders around the lot of the farm. So many memories here. All of them with Kara. It didn't feel like it at the time, but things were simpler back then, over a decade ago. Over a decade since Lena's lived in Midvale, and yet she's back here again, at the Danvers Family Christmas Tree Farm, with Kara. Getting high. Upset about her family.
Time is funny.
"Lionel was my biological father," Lena says, breaking the silence. Kara looks up at her, surprised. "Lillian told me at dinner."
"He never told you."
"No." Lena's eyes meet Kara's again. Kara understands. Kara was there when Lionel died. Kara knows the complexities of Lena's relationship with her father.
Kara searches Lena's face. "Lena, this doesn't change anything about who you are as a person."
Lena's eyes shut, and she lets out a small laugh. Years apart, and it's like no time has passed. Kara still not only knows how Lena's brain works, she also never fails to say so.
It's frustrating. It makes her heart soar, to be so well understood.
"Yeah, I know," she says. She drops the joint to the floor of the truck and puts it out with her boot. "Still hurts, though." Kara notices the tears Lena tries so hard to not let fall. She crosses over to Lena's side of the truck and sits next to her, leaning against the cold metal of the truck. She seems to hesitate for a moment, then grabs both of Lena's hands in hers.
Lena needs more, though. She pulls her hands back and instead tucks her head onto Kara's shoulder. She feels Kara smile as her strong hands wrap around Lena's waist.
Lena cries, and Kara holds her, occasionally giving her tight squeezes and rubbing her back. Eventually, the tears run out.
-----
"Katie Roberts really tried to get you to join her MLM?" Lena asks, laughing. Her head is buzzing pleasantly, and she feels every inch of Kara's body underneath her. "Wasn't she the valedictorian of the class below you?" Kara's eyes shine in the moonlight as she chuckles. They're laying in the bed of the truck, Lena's head on Kara's chest and Kara's arms around Lena. They had moved to lay down under the pretense of stargazing, the pine trees of the farm towering around them. A head on a shoulder turned into full on cuddling within minutes. Despite the years apart, it feels so normal, so comforting. Kara always had that effect on Lena.
"Yep. How the mighty have fallen," Kara jokes. Lena giggles again and shakes her head.
"Truly Midvale's finest." Lena watches Kara laugh, how her tongue presses to the insides of her teeth as she tries not to bust out laughing, how her eyes close happily. It's always so easy, being with Kara. That was never the hard part of their relationship. The hard part was always their different plans for life, their families' plans for their lives. Plans that Kara and Lena could never seem to fit together.
Lena doesn't notice when Kara catches her staring, too caught up in her memories of when things were easier for them. Kara's snort pulls her from her thoughts.
"What?" Kara shakes her head, a smug smile on her face.
"You better be careful, Miss Luthor. You know how handsy I get when I'm high."
Lena smirks, raising an eyebrow.
"And?" Kara eyes light with desire. She smiles goofily, and Lena rolls to straddle her. She places a hand on either side of Kara's face.
"Oh." Kara giggles softly. Lena takes in Kara's sapphire eyes looking up at her — a more beautiful sight than the stars above her, before leaning in to capture Kara's soft, pink lips.
It's like coming home. She lets out a soft moan as Kara grabs her hips and pulls her closer.
God, why didn't Lena come to Midvale more often? Why did they ever decide that long distance wasn't for them? Lena can't remember. Kara's tongue is sliding into her mouth and her teeth are biting Lena's bottom lip and Lena can't help but to melt into Kara over and over again.
Kissing Kara is as grounding as it is erotic. Every thought of her family flies out of her head and is replaced with Kara's calloused hands cupping her cheeks, her lips pressing over and over against Lena's. She's missed this so much. Lena cards her fingers through Kara's hair, and a groan drops from Kara's lips. It awakens something in Lena's lower belly, and she tugs harder, pulling Kara closer and closer.
Somehow, Lena's bra ends up shoved in the corner of the truck bed. Their kisses are eager, but slow, melding into each other as Kara traces her fingertips across the sides of Lena's breasts underneath her sweater. Kara's chore jacket is halfway off, pushed to her elbows but still caught underneath her.
“Stay over,” Kara says breathlessly, pulling away from Lena’s lips and pressing her forehead to Lena’s. “I don’t want you to have to go back there tonight.” Lena’s already shaking her head. God, she wants to. But It's not a good idea. Her high has worn off slightly, and she knows that she'd be in for another argument with Lillian if she isn't there in the morning. And she'd have to explain to Lillian where she was, and Lillian always disliked Kara. It was bound to make a complicated situation worse.
“I can’t. All my stuff is still there, and… I‘m going to have to talk to her eventually,” she finishes lamely. Kara’s mouth is opening in protest, but Lena cuts her off gently. “I appreciate the offer, Kara, but Lillian’s probably already asleep. I won’t have to deal with her until morning, and if I need rescuing again, I’ll call. I promise.”
If Kara is hurt by this gentle let down, it doesn’t show on her face. She nods resolutely, then captures Lena’s lips in a soft kiss before sitting up. Lena reluctantly rolls off Kara. She doesn't want to stop kissing Kara, but.
“Let’s get out of here, then. It's freezing." Kara offers Lena a hand, and she grabs it, standing. Kara supports her as she maneuvers her way down from the cab of the truck. Kara hops down after her and moves to open the passenger side door. Her hand hovers over the handle, and she looks like she wants to say something else, but after a moment, her blonde waves bounce as she gives her head a little shake.
The drive to the Luthor mansion is silent, but not unpleasantly so. Kara pulls up to the end of the driveway at the gate and lets the car idle.
“I really appreciate it, Kara. You didn’t have to come get me,” Lena says quietly. It’s dark, but Lena can see Kara's
“It’s no big deal, Lena. Plus, it’s not every day I get to see you.” Kara’s smile looks genuine. “I…miss you.”
Lena nods. “Yeah. Me too.” She leans over the console and presses her lips to Kara’s softly, gently, only for a few moments, trying to convey to Kara everything she's feeling. Kara’s eyes are still blissfully shut when Lena pulls away and opens the car door.
It's not until Lena's back in her room, laying in her bed, that she realizes her bra is still in the bed of Kara's truck.
------
Lena reads Kara's two DMs again.
How long are you in Midvale for?
Can I see you?
Two simple questions, but so loaded. Lena's torn. The last time she saw Kara, they had almost slept together, and then Lena left town.
She hadn't wanted to leave without saying goodbye to Kara. Her departure had been hasty, and then the chaos of work pushed the events in Midvale aside. It wasn't until days later that she had messaged Kara an apology, to which she had never received a reply. Until today.
I can’t. I’m here to settle the estate, and that’s it. I’m sorry, she types out. Her finger hovers over the send button. It's for the best, she thinks. On top of everything, Lena's not sure she can handle another complicated situation. Nothing's changed between their life circumstances. Lena still runs a company in National City. Kara still runs her family's farm here in Midvale. Neither of them were ever willing to compromise those things for each other. Her heart squeezes painfully as she hits the send button.
Kara's read receipt turns on. She's seen the message. Lena watches as the text bubble appears, disappears, appears, disappears.
I understand. You do what you need to do, Lena. <3
I'm here if you change your mind.
Lena, inevitably, changes her mind by the end of the weekend.
#y'all honestly i don't know where this au came from#other than me listening to tis the damn season on repeat#but i am intrigued so it might become a longer fic#idk if it's a cop out posting this for yesterday's prompt when I already had like 80% of it written before October but Oh Well!#this is my blog and i make the rules! /joking#supercorp#supercorp fic#supercorptober#supercorptober2024#my fics
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Lovecraftian AU
Victorian businessman Sheev Palpatine wishes to retire peacefully to the countryside, and his former colleague Count Dooku is able to facilitate his purchase of a large estate, containing many individual farms, a small village, and a large manor house that had been converted from an old monastery
(whether Palpatine is 'retiring' or 'being chased out of Coruscant due to his dubious business practices by an angry mob' is a matter of debate among the local newspapers)
(and maybe, if he hadn't been so flustered by the angry mobs, he would have remembered that the Count was one of the many colleagues he'd screwed over in his pursuit of wealth and power, and one who was particularly known to hold a grudge)
to his dismay, the Kaminoan locals are not using the most modern Coruscanti farming practices, and in fact, many of them seem inclined to pursue other, less profitable vocations
(or perhaps it would be more accurate to say, his dismay was amplified; after all, the Count had not warned him that the villages were filled with foreigners, whose brown skin and dark hair and eyes were effectively indistinguishable to his (cough racist cough) noble sensibilities. why, they even spoke a language other than Basic amongst themselves!)
as he attempts to enforce order among his new tenants, graciously shepherding them into modernity and proper society (cough attempting to enforce assimilation and maximize his extraction of personal profits off their labor and natural resources cough), he starts to notice some...oddities
at first he dismisses the apparitions as the locals' superstitions getting into his head, but as some of the phantasms become more active, he begins to doubt himself
the expensive new farming equipment he bought, laid to waste by a rusty blight carried before his eyes by a masked, taloned specter
the industrial suppliers and purchasers refusing to do further business with him after dreams of speaking with a spectral gentleman who recounted many of Palpatine's crimes to them the night before they were due to sign contracts with him
the new glass in his windows shattering at the hands of a dark-skinned man in broad daylight
the seeds he had the locals plant mysteriously sprouting as the crops the locals had been planning to cultivate rather than his own planned cash crop after a flash flood from the local river, when he could have sworn that he saw the blue face of a woman just below the surface of the water
he starts setting traps for the phantasms, but none of them ever seem to catch anything
his sleep is increasingly disturbed by nightmares of being hunted through the plains by something (or someone) with sharp teeth, close at his heels
he stops sleeping
and, in his exhaustion, he forgets keep covering his tracks in his dirtier dealings, and the angry mobs from Coruscant find him raving wildly about the ungodly beings living in the shadows of his new community
they chalk it up to the guilt catching up with him, and leave the local farmers and artisans to take back up their former occupations in peace as they haul Palpatine away
#star wars#the clone wars#h p lovecraft#lovecrafian#clones#jedi#chancellor palpatine#darth sidious#count dooku#jedi as the clones' spectral guardians
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