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jeonggukkiepabo · 4 years

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HWASAN [MYG] 🐉

SUMMARY: Yoongi, the only dragon hybrid to exist, has done a lot to escape the life he has been put into. He killed those who held him just to run away, to have the chance of living a life he’s been longing to have for years. Even after switching continents, they seem to be after him, hunting him. When he meets you, he knows you’re one of them and there’s only one way to survive - to kill you.

GENRE: smut 🐉 angst 🐉 action 🐉 fluff-ish

WORD COUNT: 11k

WARNINGS: enemies to lovers, mentions of murder and blood, violence, Yoongi rides a motorbike, cursing, blowjobs, fingering, Yoongi has claws and fangs, temperature play, his cum tastes different, choking, fighting for dominance, unprotected sex, breeding kink, Yoongi is stubborn but soft, fox hybrid!taehyung and i’m so soft for him

AUTHOR’S NOTE: It is finally here, my part of The Hybrid Collab! I can’t even tell you how excited I am to post this after months of planning. I think everyone agrees with me that the thought of Dragon!Yoongi is too much to handle. I had this idea in my mind for as long as Daechwita has been around now-it just took me a while to write it sksks.

I’d also love to thank @spicykoreantatertots & @yeojaa for betaing this fic and helping me with it. @kimtaehyunq Mags, tysm for designing this beautiful banner for me! Also; thanks for listening to my rambling and keeping up with me and this fic. It was so much fun cooperating your Taehyung into it, I love him. :(

NOW LET’S GET STARTED.

Running was all Yoongi had done for months now. Running away from those he killed. Running away from those who wanted him to get killed. Running away from those that held him ever since he was little, that taught him how to fight and kill. Running away from those that made him a murderer. Running away from Kkangpae.

Yoongi hates running (especially running away), but he had no other choice. He had to leave his home country behind and never go back, finding himself a new place to live instead. He should feel guilty, he regretted all his actions but by now, he only feels relief.

Kkangpae treated him like a fucking animal, like a worthless pet. He wasn’t treated like any human being should be treated; he didn’t even have a real bed.

All because Yoongi was a dragon hybrid, the rarest hybrid species on earth.

The lack of volcanoes in South Korea were the reason why Yoongi was highly valuable to the Kkangpae, because active volcanoes were one of the requirements for dragons to get born. As far as Yoongi knows, there’s only one volcano in South Korea: Ch’uga-ryong, a volcano that hasn’t been active for around five hundred years.

Around that time, the dragon species became extinct due to a natural disaster that Yoongi didn’t know anything about - because he was still sleeping peacefully in his comfortable egg, buried deep beneath the lava.

Yoongi’s mother, a purebred dragon, died during the catastrophe, and she was not able to protect the egg. Because of this, his body was not able to develop the way it should have. His egg was found hundreds of years later by scientists. They used newly invented technology to develop the preserved egg and mix human genes into it. Shortly after that process was complete, Yoongi hatched.

Yoongi has never met another dragon hybrid in his life. Maybe he was the only one in existence, maybe other scientists created them the same way as he was created. Even if they existed, they’re probably held the same way he was held - captured by some sort of underground gang and treated like shit.

Yoongi hated it, hated the way he wasn’t even a real creature, that he was built instead of born and that he was sold to Kkangpae to be their guard dog. Even though he was a dragon, well he was supposed to be a dragon, those fucking scientists pulled some weird Jurassic Park shit on him. Did humans even believe in dragons? To most of them he was nothing more than a myth, some creature from a fairytale.

Yoongi almost screams in frustration as his memories hit him once again. The night he decided to end it all, to kill everyone he finds comes back into his vision almost every time he closes his eyes. Because hell, he was a great fighter, the best assassin anyone could ever train and he never failed an attempt of murder. Ever since then, his nights are based on either nightmares or hectic rides on his bike, this is why he lives on coffee and energy drinks even though they're too sweet for his taste, they keep him awake. If he stops to sleep, the memories, the dreams will return in full force.

During that time, Yoongi tries not to stop in motels because:

1. he can’t afford them

2. he shouldn’t waste time on sleep if he can spend them driving down the highway on his motorcycle instead, getting as much distance between South Korea and himself as quickly as possible.

As a dragon hybrid, Yoongi has several magic powers that typical hybrids don’t have, simply because his body doesn’t work like other hybrid bodies; he is born a dragon. Most of his genetics are dragon-like even though he’s now trapped inside a mostly human body. The only features that give off his inhuman origin are his eyes, green and purple irises, swirling around like lava, never resting. Some scales are splattered around his skin, but almost all of them are well hidden under his clothes - and Yoongi is glad that he can hide that feature because of the weird looks he would get if he had scales on his face or hands; no thanks.

That, and the fact that he can extend claws from his “normal” fingernails, which is quite useful in fights… and during other situations.

One of Yoongi’s biggest advantages is the ability of changing his body temperature to the extreme - whether it’s hot or cold. If he wanted to burn you, he could; if he wanted to feel cold as ice, he could do that as well. He used that power a lot back when he was a little dragon, not wanting to be touched by humans that didn’t have his trust - not that any human has ever earned his trust - so he easily increased his body temperature until those who touched him left with blisters all over their hands.

People always think that dragons have the ability to spit fire, but apparently dragon hybrids can't. All Yoongi was able to do was spit acidic saliva with the ability to burn through all kinds of fabric and material (he even melted a spoon once because he hated the soup he had to eat) and whenever he was really angry, smoke would blow right out of his nostrils.

Kkangpae should’ve known better than to train him until he was invincible. Until he was stronger than them, until he was able to ruin them one by one.

It didn’t even take Yoongi an entire night to kill those who had held him his entire life, which made him Kkangpae’s enemy number one. He obviously didn’t get to kill each member, but he managed to ruin the leftovers by killing their boss, his wife and brother. The golden three, no longer golden anymore.

Which meant one thing: running away. Leaving South Korea with nothing but his motorcycle and never, ever, coming back. Yoongi doesn’t know if he will ever get to settle down somewhere or even where to go next, he just knows that he will never be able to come back to where he originated.

He has been in the United States for almost three months now, after secretly hitching a ride on a very disgusting container ship. In the beginning, he didn’t know where his adventure would bring him, but he has seen some beautiful places here. Yoongi even visits some of the biggest volcanoes in the country (he hates the volcanic mountains in Alaska, though, because the air outside is colder than what he is used to and Yoongi hates the feeling of icy air after a nice long nap in the comfortable lava) to spend some time relaxing his sore muscles. He just left his favorite volcano ever, the Yellowstone in the Rocky Mountains, a week ago and he really misses napping there, but if Kkangpae would ever look for him in the US, volcanoes would probably be an obvious spot to check for a dragon hybrid.

Now Yoongi is here in a cute little suburb that he doesn't even know the name of. Small droplets of rain are blocking the view from his motorcycle helmet and his gas tank is on low, so he decides to stop by the next available gas station and grab some hot coffee on his way to the bordering highway.

Yoongi didn't bring a crazy amount of baggage from Korea, because it's obviously difficult to ride a motorbike with an abundance of luggage. Instead he sticks to a simple black backpack with some clothes, money that he stole from Kkangpae, his phone, and an old notebook he uses to scribble down places he’s heard of during his trip.

Even though the gas station is quite empty, Yoongi acts out of instinct and pulls his cap lower into his face, hiding his shimmering eyes and starts to fuel his tank, looking around to check if someone has recognized him. Nobody catches his attention, until a girl on another motorbike stops to get some gas as well. Yoongi scrunches his nose, thinking that his bike was the only one in a suburb like this - because to be honest, he spent a lot of money on it, on spraying it matte black (instead of the bright teal it had before he ran away) and a bigger engine. It isn’t one of the luxurious Korean brands, but a MV Agusta F4 LH44, an expensive ass bike that Kkangpae gave him for jobs out of their area.

This girl though, she rides a fucking Kawasaki Ninja, one of the fastest - and most expensive - bikes out there. He only has eyes for her machine, but once she pulls off her helmet letting her messy hair fall over her back and turns around to the gas pump, he inhales sharply.

She’s Korean. She’s fucking Korean and she rides a fucking expensive bike.

To Yoongi it can only mean one thing: Kkangpae. But, would they really send a girl after him, a powerful dragon hybrid? Probably not. The girl hums some unknown melody as she fuels her bike, looking around as well. Yoongi makes sure that she doesn’t catch a glimpse of his eyes as he turns around to pay.

But the girl is right behind him, he can feel her body temperature on his sensitive skin and as he walks past her, he can smell something vaguely familiar. That’s when he decides to pull off a classic Joe Goldberg, waiting for the girl some streets down the road and follows her as inconspicuously as possible.

The girl comes to a quicker halt than Yoongi is expecting - simply because he didn’t like to stop more often than necessary -, but he’s quick to park his bike and follow the girl into the establishment she walks in. Bread, Sweets and Treats, says the small sign and Yoongi cringes. Who would come up with such a name? Is the owner inspired by this one Korean band that has a track with a similar name? Yoongi shakes his head to get rid of the distracting thought, instead putting his cap back on and stepping into the café.

She is nowhere to be seen, probably sitting in some booth further back, but as soon as Yoongi attempts to stride through the café, the girl behind the counter smiles at him.

“Hi, I’m Yura! What can I get you?”

He really wants to reply with “nothing.” But the smell of coffee lingers in his nose and who would Yoongi be to decline such a chance? “Just one regular coffee, black, please.”

He pays quickly, just slapping some notes onto the counter as he looks around once more.

“There’s a few empty tables in the back, go and sit down, relax a bit and I will be there with your coffee as soon as possible!”

That finally gives Yoongi the chance he’s been waiting for, strolling through the café to find the mysterious girl and once he has an eye on her, he sits down three tables to her right. She’s on her phone, taking sips of some hot beverage but takes nervous looks around the café from time to time and Yoongi wonders if she has seen him as well.

“Your coffee!” The barista smiles at Yoongi and places the hot mug in front of him. “Are you sure that you don’t want anything else? You look quite tired and I bet some pastries can help with that!”

Yoongi tries to crack a smile, but he knows people are most likely afraid once they lock eyes with him, but it seems like that his eyes aren’t anything that scares the friendly girl as he mutters a soft “I’m fine, thank you.”

He dares to take another look to his left, a silent gasp leaving his lips. There, on her right arm, is a tattoo of a dragon crawling up to her elbow. The symbol of Kkangpae, inked right into her skin. Yoongi’s assumptions were correct, she is one of those bastards and the only reason she’s here must be to kill him. But Yoongi isn’t one to have that, he’ll be quicker.

Patience is key, he reminds himself as he slowly sips his coffee, keeping an eye on that girl as he thinks about that one night again.

Things happen quickly then, the girl stands up and leaves to go to the restroom, but as soon as Yoongi plans to follow her, an elderly lady goes in there as well.

He sighs, pulling off his cap just to run his hands through his hair before quickly putting it back on, covering his eyes as much as possible. The hunter's knife in his boots feels heavy, ready to be used, but Yoongi doesn’t want to make a scene right here. It would cause more trouble than being effective - and he couldn’t find out more about Kkangpae’s plans in the middle of a café. On the other hand, Yoongi can’t risk losing her, that’s why he acts out of instinct once she comes back from the bathroom.

She makes her way past his table, Yoongi stands up quickly to follow her - and once she’s near the exit, he jumps onto her, slamming his full body weight against her smaller frame and smashes her into one of the tables, the wood breaking under their combined weights. His claws are out and he can feel his skin burning up during his rage as he snarls a low, “What’s your name? What are you doing here and where are the others?” at her.

She must be a tough one though, because even if she’s scared, she doesn’t show it. Instead, she glares up at him. “Why would I tell someone that attacks me in the middle of a coffee shop my name? Fuck, get off of me, you freak! What even are you?”

Yoongi smirks, pushing her even further into the remains of the table. “Min Yoongi, I think I ruined a bit of your family business.”

Now, her eyes widen in shock as she tries to get out of his burning grip around her throat once more. “You don’t have to kill me”, she whispers. “I don’t belong to them. Not anymore. After you killed my father and my uncle, I knew it would be the best to get out of it as well, trust me!”

Yoongi laughs, head thrown back - and it looks kind of funny, because there’s a little cloud of smoke coming out of his nose - before looking back down at her. “I’ve learned one thing in my life and that’s to never trust anyone. Especially not when they’re wearing that cute little dragon tattoo on their arm. Sorry, but I guess you have to die too.”

An annoyingly high-pitched scream causes Yoongi to lose his guard for one second, giving the girl the chance she needs to break free from his grip. "Stop it, please," one of the baristas pleads, trying to calm some of the nervous customers down. Yoongi looks at him for a second, smirking as he sees the obvious features only mouse hybrids have.

The dragon hybrid snarls, showing off some of his sharper teeth as he grips his target again. "Don't you dare make a scene, mousey. It's been a while since I had one of your ancestors for lunch, you know? And I haven't eaten in quite some time." Then, he turns around to the girl. "I'm sorry love, but this situation is getting a bit out of hand." He uses his foot on her chest to keep her in place as he grabs his favorite knife that's been sitting in his boot the entire trip, just waiting to be finally used.

Fate isn't on Yoongi's side today as another one of the baristas yells at him, running past some other tables to get to where Yoongi is standing. Yoongi groans, pressing the heel of his foot deeper into the girl's chest. "You stay there, little one, okay?" She doesn't answer, just grits her teeth to compensate for the ache in her body. The mouse hybrid freezes on the spot, staring at the scene in front of him. Then, Yoongi turns around to the new voice. "What do you want now, I'm busy and I really need to go after this, so would you let me do my job, please?" The irritation isn’t easy to miss, but Yoongi's patience has always been rather low and he prefers to get over this before the rest of Kkangpae arrives as well. "I don't belong to them anymore, fucking hell!" The girl yells once more, nails digging into Yoongi's jeans-clad calf.

“I’m the manager,” the other barista slash manager says, “You have two seconds before I call the police. Get the hell –“ Yoongi gets ready to leave yet another snarky remark as a rather lean looking guy pushes her behind his frame.

“I’ve heard rumors about your existence, I was skeptical about it – but anything is possible from where you came from.”

Yoongi’s eyes scan the stranger, thinking about how high his chances are to win another fight when he realizes that he’s one of the rarest hybrid breeds, not a regular fox but a canadian marble fox - which are often held for their beautiful fur. He has been living with one of those in the Kkangpae mansion, the fox hybrid was more likely the opposite of Yoongi’s reason to be there: Yoongi was being held to fight, the fox was a lapdog, bought to look pretty in the leader's wife's lap.

The man in front of him has similar ears, grey with black tips and his amber eyes remind him of the old fox as well. Yoongi tilts his head in visible confusion as he locks eyes with the man.

“I’m not one of them, my name’s Y/N! I’ve heard that you killed my father, my uncle and his wife so I used the chance and ran off, I didn’t know I’d see you here as well, Yoongi! Please, just fucking listen!”, the girl, Y/N, pleads with tears brimming in her eyes.

“Yoongi, is it? Listen. You can’t do that here, I know what you did to those who held you, but this isn’t the right place!”, the fox hybrid chimes in again. Yoongi’s head moves up and down, he doesn’t know who he should listen to, but he came for this one mission: killing Y/N.

“Shut up, all of you!” He screams out of frustration, the knife starting to melt in his hands because of the unbearable heat radiating from his body. Yoongi drops the now useless weapon to the floor, the weight of his boot no longer suffocating the girl beneath him. She coughs a few times, trying to suck in as much oxygen as possible, trying to relax her wildly beating heart, but Yoongi doesn’t care about her right now. Instead, he locks eyes with the fox hybrid. “Who are you?” His voice is low, quiet, actually, because Yoongi doesn’t trust it enough to speak up.

“I’m from the Kim lineage”, the hybrid says with raised hands, probably to prove that he’s no danger to Yoongi. “Trust me, I know a lot about our individual histories.” Yoongi breathes through his nose, another tiny cloud of smoke leaving his nostrils as he finally steps back from Y/N. “Kim, as in Kim Jiho? That can’t be it. You’re related to him?”

He eyes the other man skeptically, not really sure whether to believe him or not. He doesn’t even look at Y/N who’s been standing but not running away yet.

The other hybrid's answer shocks Yoongi, his eyes widening as he sees the frown on his face, combined with soft ears flopping down sadly. "That's my father."

The woman behind the Kim hybrid whispers something into his ear, causing the man to nod as he looks back at Yoongi, but aIso at Y/N. "Let's just take this outside, we can talk out there."

Yoongi's eyes flicker between the hybrid and Y/N, then he nods slowly whilst pressing out a low "fine". Just as Y/N starts walking past him he grabs her wrist and pulls her closer, whispering into her ear. "If you try to run off, I'll be right behind you, ready to rip your guts out." As if to prove his point, Yoongi heats his skin up once again, burning Y/N's wrist before smiling sweetly at her and following the fox hybrid out of the café.

The hybrid, who introduces himself as Kim Taehyung, offers refuge to Yoongi and Y/N at his secret bunker in the nearby mountains. He uses the space to hide during emergencies. It isn’t anything special, it is a literal fox burrow with furniture which totally confirms the impression Yoongi has on Taehyung’s style: simple, yet elegant.

Yoongi is even allowed to eat some of Taehyung’s self grown variety of exotic fruits that he is extremely proud of. He smugly offers a dragon fruit to Yoongi who only raises his brows, a challenging glint to his eyes as he grabs some of the lychees instead and pops them into his mouth. “But you’re supposed to peel them!”, Taehyung screeches, his furry ears twitching in disgust, but Yoongi only smiles and eats one more, swallowing the entire fruit just to see Taehyung’s reaction once more.

“My saliva is acidic, I don’t need to peel them. I’ve been eating worse things, trust me.”

After Taehyung shows Yoongi and Y/N around the bunker (it even included a shower and a functional bedroom), he decides to call it a night and leave the two alone (not without them promising Taehyung to not kill each other, he would “check in the next day” to make sure of it) and heads over to his own little cabin nearby. Once Taehyung leaves, Yoongi pulls Y/N onto the worn out couch to actually sit down and talk.

“Okay, so you say you’re running away from Kkangpae too, right? Why?” Yoongi raises the eyebrow that was cut through by that ugly scar.

Y/N swallows, trying not to stare at Yoongi’s distracting eyes. “I was born into it, I didn’t choose that life, Yoongi. Just like you I was just a part of their game. I’ve seen people die since I was a kid. I’ve never been allowed to have friends or sleep somewhere else because my father was too ‘worried’ something could happen to me. That’s why one of his coaches trained me in different kinds of martial arts from the time I was able to walk.”

She looks at the hybrid again, shaking her head in disgust.

“Of course I knew what was going on with them, why they were behaving like that and I knew that my father and uncle were the leaders, so there wasn’t any chance for me to get away from it. I tried, really, but once I found out that they got killed... I didn’t know you did it, because the second I heard it, I ran. You can trust me, Yoongi, even though my last name might be occupied by all your prejudices.”

Yoongi listens the entire time, not interrupting her as he tries to understand what she was saying. “I’ve seen you when you were a teen”, he mumbles. “I age differently than humans, but I think you were just around 15 years old when you kicked that one security guy in the balls. That was kind of badass, not gonna lie,” Yoongi smirks at her, eyes glistering mischievously. Y/N rolls her eyes at that. “He liked my dress way too much. One more reason not to wear those weird things at all.” Yoongi hums. “I bet you look great in those, but I do like your leather pants too. Anyways, what leads you to the US? It’s not the most… unusual choice to run away to. Wouldn't a country like Greece or Egypt be better? They must be looking after you too. I tried hiding in volcanoes but it was too obvious.”

The girl shrugs her shoulders, shivering now that the evening starts to settle in. “I don’t know, to be honest. All those countries sound nice and fun, but I don’t speak their language. America is huge, too. I wasn’t planning on staying in this town, but now that I met you, I mean… We could run off together, maybe? I can fight and I know how to use a gun and I’ve heard of your… powers, too. You might know how they fight, but I know how they think. Us teaming up would be useful.” She shuffles around, unsure about how Yoongi would react.

“Are you cold?”

“What?”

This wasn’t the reaction Y/N was waiting for. “Are you cold? You’re shivering. I’ve never used my powers in this way, but maybe I could help you,”

Yoongi shrugs as he slowly touches her arm and attempts to heat up his own skin in a way that wouldn’t hurt the girl. Y/N flinches at first, but the temperature heating up her body is too comfortable to deny.

“Oh god, this is amazing,” she leans her head against the headrest and closes her eyes. “I haven’t been this comfortable in a while.”

Yoongi nods, he understands that. The bunker is the first place he might be able to actually sleep. “I’ve been sleeping in volcanoes, like I said, but I haven’t really slept since I left the last one. Not that anyone could come in it and try to kill me, but after two days of sleeping and soaking in lava, it got boring.”

“I wouldn’t even mind bathing in lava as long as it’s this comfortable”, Y/N whispers as she drifts off into a deep slumber.

Once she’s asleep, Yoongi removes his hand slowly and looks around to find a comforter to throw over her relaxed body. Then he decides that he finally deserves the luxury of a real shower, with real hot water (that he heats up even more), before snuggling into the bed and closing his eyes for at least a few hours.

The next few days went by like nothing, Yoongi and Y/N weren’t really ready to go outside and face the world, so they stay inside the bunker to plan their getaway. They go out twice, practicing their fighting skills and helping Taehyung to pick some fruits (because Yoongi felt bad, he ate the entire mango stash in one night).

This evening, Yoongi prepares some food that he finds in the cupboards, some pasta and a canned sauce that he heats up in his hands, not bothering to put it onto the stove. He’s at the point where he decides that Y/N deserves his trust, that she won’t kill him and he’s pleasantly surprised to have someone like that in his life.

Y/N steps out of the shower, towel wrapping around her delicate body as Yoongi plates the food on the makeshift table.

“I swear to you, my muscles are still sore from your training yesterday!” She huffs as she searches her backpack for fresh clothes. “Can I grab one of your shirts? One of us has to do laundry tomorrow, I’m going to ask Taehyung how he’s doing it when he’s out here. But for now, I need something comfortable because I can’t squeeze my tired body in leather pants and a tight tank. So, please, Yoongi?” Y/N smiles her sweetest smile, causing Yoongi to groan out, defeated.

“And what am I supposed to wear tomorrow? My old stinky one that I sweat into during training?” He raises the scarred eyebrow at her as he sits down in front of his own plate, starting to eat already.

Y/N pouts as she grabs one of his last clean shirts and runs into the bathroom. When she comes back, she’s wearing that shirt - and only that shirt. Yoongi almost drops his fork.

It’s not like those movies where the girlfriend wears her boyfriend’s shirt and it looks cute and stops above her knee, no. Yoongi isn’t the tallest, Y/N’s actually almost the same height as him - with more curves than Yoongi's lanky body. Instead, his ‘oversized’ shirt ends just a bit below her ass. Yoongi would bet that if she bends down, her entire peach would be on full view for him.

“Aren’t you going to wear any pants?” Yoongi mutters. To be honest, he hopes she won’t opt for pants because… he’s just a man and even his dragon instincts think about sex from time to time.

“Is it bothering you?” Y/N asks as she plops down besides him, starting to eat right away as well.

There isn’t much space between them and Yoongi can see her hardening nipples under the shirt that once belonged to him. He shrugs. “Nah, but don’t come ask me to heat you up just because you’re freezing your ass off again.”

She quirks an eyebrow. “Would it bother you? Heating me up?”

“Probably.”

Y/N pouts and turns away slightly after she throws a blanket over her legs, continuing to eat her pasta. “How long are we going to stay here? We planned to leave for Italy, but when? It’s getting colder each day and I don’t like that winter’s coming.”

Yoongi stands up to go and wash his plate, not sure about the answer to Y/N’s question.

“There’s nothing holding us here. We could go and leave tomorrow, but we could also stay for a few more days, try to get enough sleep and take advantage of this bunker. I mean, would we get the chance to have such a perfect hideout again? Let’s use this opportunity for as long as we can.”

Inside, Yoongi knows that he wasn’t ready to leave just yet. He wasn’t ready to face the world, not ready to be on the run again. “How much money did you take with you? Wherever we decide to stop by next, we should think about a way to earn money.”

“I left with my card and packed some money from the family’s safe before I realized it isn’t that smart to run away with my credit card that could be tracked. I withdrew some more money and gave the card to a homeless lady,” Y/N shrugs as she dries the plate Yoongi has washed before placing it back into the cupboard. “I think I still have around 10 grand in my backpack, I really don’t know. I didn’t need a lot of money, most of it was needed for gas and coffee.”

“You’ve been travelling with 10 thousand in cash? That’s kinda stupid. What are going to do if someone tries to rob you? Ugh,” Yoongi can feel the smoke leaving his nostril as he paces through the room, feeling restless out of sudden.

Y/N giggles. “Are you worried? Min Yoongi, the baddest dragon alive is worried about a girl that grew up with Kkangpae and definitely knows how to protect herself.”

Yoongi scrunches his nose, already feeling his skin heat up - but not in the magical way he’s used to. Nope. Min Yoongi is being shy.

“You are worried! How cute! Are you sure you’re a dragon and not just a little lizard? One of those that live in the fields and kids go and pick them up to have them as a pet in some shoeboxes?” Y/N steps closer, gently bumping her hip against Yoongi’s before patting his head with a giggle. “Who knew that the bad boy that’s one of the most powerful human beings is getting soft over a girl.”

Enough’s enough. Even though Yoongi never had the chance to fall in love, to be in a relationship or build a real friendship, he has had more than enough experience in other things, having shared ruts and heats with countless other hybrids that has some sort of place in Kkangpae. He turns around, his instincts taking over him.

Puffing out his chest a bit, standing completely straight so he will hover over Y/N, Yoongi steps forward, breath fanning over her face. “Did you just call me a fucking lizard?”

His eyes are going wild right now, the purple and green swirling around even faster than the usual soft flow of colors. He growls, stretching his neck from side to side as he starts to feel his fangs growing, soon poking out of his lips.

Y/N smirks, tilting her head to the side, looking up innocently at the fuming dragon in front of her. “Too bad you can’t change forms, huh?” She doesn’t even get to add another snarky comment to her sentence as Yoongi’s body presses her against the rough wall, his shirt sliding up her body as he cages her in.

“You’re acting like an ungrateful bitch, Y/N. Even got to wear my shirt like you’re someone that actually means something to me, yet you’re being bratty and annoying. I don’t hesitate to get rid of people that act up on me, you should know that by now.”

His hot breath fans her face and Y/N tries her best not to squirm under his intense glare. Then, she smirks. “You wouldn’t kill me.”

“Mhhm, you’re right, I wouldn’t. Still, you’re being bratty and I don’t appreciate such behavior.” Yoongi looks at Y/N, eyes still intimidating her.

“What are you going to do about it? Spank me?” She laughs, knowing that situations like this only happen in those new adult novels, not during an escape.

“I should, but maybe you won’t be able to keep up with it. In the end, you’re just human whilst I’m nothing more than a cute little lizard, huh?” Yoongi looks at his hands, claws forming where his fingernails once were. “I don’t remember lizards being able to hurt you, though. Wanna try?” His smirk is dangerous, but so alluring that Y/N just nods, not knowing what the night will bring for her.

Once they move to the makeshift bedroom, Y/N’s knees start to get weak. Yoongi feels the change in her aura, smirking to himself as he stops right behind her, hot breath blowing on her neck.

“Is there anything you don’t like, Bambi?” His fangs gently poke the juncture of her neck, not enough to actually draw blood but to make her twist under his touch.

“I don’t think so, I mean… I guess I like… Yoongi, can you stop that for a second, please?” She turns around in his grip, cheeks blushing and lips parted. Yoongi cooes.

“This turned on already? Can’t even form sentences? Alright, I’ll sit down then and you’re going to tell me what I’m allowed to do to you,” Yoongi smirks as he slumps on the mattress, manspreading to give Y/N the best view of the bulge in his pants.

Y/N rolls her eyes and sinks down between his legs, a dangerous smirk now lingering on her lips. “Maybe I’ll just show you what I like and you can take over from that? Figured you’d be one that prefers to be in control. I’ll go by the traffic light system if I’m not okay with anything - or I’ll kick you in the balls, so don’t worry.”

Yoongi doesn’t even bother to answer as Y/N presses her mouth against his clothed dick to kiss it lightly. His hips buck slightly as she wraps her lips around him and starts sucking on the side of his bulge through the fabric. She smiles as his cock grows harder under her lips, but Yoongi is quick to pull her off. “I really appreciate your effort but are you down there to drool all over my pants or are you going to suck me off? I promise you my dick is human, not one of a lizard.”

She pouts, playing with the hem of his joggers. “Where’s the fun in that? But fine,” Y/N rolls her eyes and pulls them down slowly, her nails gently scratching the skin of his stomach while doing so. As the waistband of his pants go past his cock, she is not even surprised that Yoongi isn’t wearing any boxers underneath them.

“Predictable,” she mutters mostly to herself, but Yoongi grabs a bunch of her hair to push Y/N back on his, this time naked, length.

It costs her a lot of self control to not retort him with a snarky remark, as she continues to remove his pants slowly. Yoongi growls, but she just smiles up at him and grabs his heavy dick to stroke it two, three times. Then, she leans down to gently lick his balls, still not using her mouth on his dick.

Yoongi twists and groans, trying his hardest not to grab her and shove his entire length down her throat until it’s sore, but this woman is testing his patience. One of his hands is still on the back of her head whilst he uses the other one to lean back a little, just to get a better view.

“Are you done playing now, Petal?” Yoongi’s grip on Y/N’s hair tightens, his claws digging into her head - and Y/N can’t keep in the silent mewl that leaves her lips at the burning pleasure. “Be a good girl now, will you?” His voice is almost alluring her to do as he pleases, but Y/N wouldn’t be herself if she follows his orders.

Their eyes meet and Yoongi has to admit that she looks perfect. Even though she isn’t wearing any make up right now, hair still damp from her shower and eyes already clouded with lust, he wouldn’t want any other person to be in her position right now.

She stares at his cock again, her own panties dampening at the thought of having it inside her. Y/N’s tongue pokes out to play with his tip, tasting him and getting a feeling for the heaviness on her tongue as Yoongi pushes her down in one swift motion. A gurgling sound escapes from Y/N’s throat, but she does her best to swallow his huge length, using her fist to stroke whatever can’t fit.

“Oh, shit,” Yoongi groans and throws his head back while trying to keep his eyes on Y/N at the same time. Her eyes are closed, lips beautifully parted around his cock and saliva already drips down her chin, even though Yoongi hasn’t even really moved by now. “You’ll let me fuck your mouth, right, angel?”

She nods as good as she can with a mouth full of dick, looking up at the hybrid in front of her. Yoongi hisses as he pushes his hips forward, losing himself in the feeling quickly as his thrusts get faster and sloppier. The sight of Y/N not only sucking him off but also wearing his shirt sends him close to edge quickly.

Y/N pulls off to take a deep breath and to wink at Yoongi before sinking down again.

"God, you're so good, Petal. Wanted to fuck that bratty mouth for so long now. Imagine your father seeing you like that, he'd die from the shock, his little princess on her knees to please the housedragon."

She moans at his words, fingers sIiding under her, Yoongi's, shirt, but the man is quick to grab both of her hands to cross them behind her head. He grabs her wrists as he plunges himself down her throat once more before he spills his hot load into her mouth with a loud growl a bit of smoke that comes out of his nostrils.

As Y/N pulls off, her eyes show the disbelief she must be feeling. "You… You taste like…"

"Cinnamon?", Yoongi smirks, his eye color now much calmer than before now that his inner dragon is somewhat sated - for now.

“Yes, I was expecting anything, a double penis, maybe some weird forms or scales, but not cinnamon flavoured cum. Not that I mind, though. Tastes like that gum I used to have when I was still in school.”

Yoongi hums, stepping out of his pants now that they won’t be used anyways, his shirt following too.

“Now it’s your turn, petal. Let me see you,” he gestures with his fingertip, swirling in a motion for her to turn around, finally giving Yoongi the view that he had been curious about ever since Y/N came out of the bathroom with his shirt on. She isn’t wearing one of those expensive lingeries that are nothing but lace, no. Expensive, yes. A sporty looking string is disappearing between her round buttcheeks, the rather thick waistband of it covered with the Versace logo. Yoongi hums, that’s definitely what he had expected Y/N to wear, it looks comfortable but still seductive.

Y/N smirks over her shoulder, lifting the hem of her shirt teasingly but letting it fall down again to cover her butt. “Maybe you need privileges to undress me, Min. I mean, I’m somewhat of royal blood, aren’t I?” She gracefully sinks down onto his lap, arms wrapping around his neck.

A chuckle leaves Yoongi’s lips as he tilts his head. “Do you want me to call you princess now? Because I didn’t know you were into that. Does babygirl also do the thing for you? I bet your blood’s blue too, I’d love to see that.”

Yoongi traces his finger tip over her thigh, his claw teasing the soft skin there and Y/N’s eyes follow it curiously. He presses down a bit, just enough to break the first layer of skin and draw a little bit of blood - enough to prove both of them that Y/N’s blood isn’t blue. “Oh, too bad, not a real princess,” Yoongi pouts.

Y/n raises her eyebrow. “Did you just cut me?”

“It’s not a cut, just a little… poke?” Yoongi wipes over the blood before bringing his finger to his lips and licking the drop off with a smirk. “Doesn’t taste royal to me, rather muddy. But maybe that’s what you get from living with Kkangpae for so long. Guess mine tastes like dirt too.”

Y/N laughs, not even shocked about the fact that Yoongi seems to be bothered about her blood on his tongue. The melodic sound of her laugh makes Yoongi smile too, an actual, honest smile that shows all his teeth and fangs, causing Y/N to coo. “And suddenly you don’t look scary anymore.”

Her eyes wander down his body, inspecting every inch, maybe to find something more dragon-like, maybe to just remember the skinship for much longer. “Oh,” She breathes out, “You’ve got scales.”

Yoongi looks down at his stomach where some scales are shimmering in the bedroom light. “Yes, I do have scales. I’m a dragon, remember?”

And to Y/N, they’re beautiful. They’re not huge, not as dry or disgusting as lizards look like, no. Those scales must come from a line of beautiful dragons. They match his eyes, shimmering purple and green whenever they hit the light. But they’re not only on his stomach, they are also winding around his sides and up his back.

Y/N’s fingers follow them as she orders Yoongi to lay down on his stomach to get a full view of them.

The scales grow larger on his shoulder blades, probably where his dragon wings imaginely would be and Y/N can’t help but kiss the rough texture. Goosebumps erupt on Yoongi’s entire body, skinship like this was never a real thing for him.

“Feels good,” he whispers into his arm, slightly ashamed. Y/N continues to pamper his skin in kisses and licks, biting the rougher areas here and there until Yoongi grows impatient and turns them around, growling playfully.

“Like I said, my turn now.”

Yoongi always has a thing for taking his time to please his partner, he isn’t one for quick fucks without foreplay. So, he kneels between Y/N’s parting legs, palms caressing the smooth skin that is covered in a few fresh cuts and old scars from practicing her fighting skills, but Yoongi definitely didn’t mind them. His shirt has moved on its own, not even covering her panties anymore but ending somewhere above her belly button by now. As soon as his fingertips glide over the curve of her hips, Y/N shudders with a quiet mewl. “Yoongi.”

“Mhm, ‘m here, you look so good, Petal,” Yoongi whispers while kissing her ankles, her calves, and the sensitive area of her inner thighs. “Truly like a flower. You know that there’s a flower called Dragon’s Breath? It’s bright red and can survive in the heat like a champ, even their leaves are red. But I don’t think it’s scent comes close to yours,” he hums in front of her clothed core, tongue poking against the wet spot on the fabric. “Bet you taste even better, Petal.”

“Yoongi, please,” Y/N whines, getting rid of the shirt by herself, the heat simmering inside her body is almost overwhelming. Yoongi looks up from the space between her legs, eyeing the swell of her breasts with a growl, muttering compliments again and again. He sits up the slightest bit to gently remove her panties - claws nowhere to be seen by now, even his fangs are gone and Yoongi’s just Yoongi, even though the arousal is visible in his eyes again.

He lies down, cock rubbing against the rough sheets causes him to hiss quietly, but his mind is somewhere else within seconds. How couldn’t he with Y/N’s soaking core in front of his face?

She can’t see his mischievous smirk as he swiftly controls the temperature of his skin, cooling down his fingertips as he slowly and teasingly traces her folds.

Y/N yelps. “Yoongi! Shit, what’s that?”

Yoongi laughs, holding up his unoccupied hand to her face, showing her how cold his fingers are by holding them against her cheek whilst the other hand works magic on her clit.

“Unbelievable. Warn me the next time,” she mutters as she sinks back into the pillows.

Yoongi’s hot breath fans the sensitive area before he broadly licks right across the flesh, enjoying the way her body jumps out of surprise again. “Oh, oops.”

Then, he finally pushes one finger in, tongue pressing right against Y/N’s clit as he starts doing what it feels like he was born to do. Yoongi eats her out with no mercy. Ignoring her squirming body and needy whines, he only concentrates on the places that bring the loudest moans out of her, massacring those until she’s close - to stop with a smug smirk.

Y/N could reach her high by just looking at his face, red and breathless, but also wet from her juices, lips glistering in the light. Two of his fingers are still inside her, teasing her G-spot just as his lips start sucking the life out of her clit again.

Y/N’s hands are buried in his chaotic mess of hair, pulling on it but also pressing him further onto her core until his tongue slips inside her as well. She doesn’t warn him, too scared of missing another orgasm, but Yoongi also doesn’t look like he’s about to stop this time, eager to pleasure the woman underneath him. Y/N screams as she reaches her high, hips bucking up from the bed, Yoongi’s head going with it, just so he can make sure that every second of her orgasm will be remembered forever.

He kitten licks her folds as she calms down; stroking her thighs, kissing her stomach while whispering praises. “Fuck,” she rasps out, her stomach still heaving heavily.

Yoongi crawls up next to her with admiration in his eyes as he leans over to kiss Y/N for the first time. She can taste herself on his tongue, but who cares? The kiss is more gentle than Y/N expects. Yoongi seems to be switching moods from hungry to loving within seconds, but that’s probably his inner dragon wanting to devour her whilst Yoongi just wants to take his time to make the night special. Y/N is the one to pull away, looking at him with dark eyes. “Get inside me, please.”

The hybrid smirks, tilting his head as he asks “How do you like it?”

“I’ll show you,” she remarks as she pushes Yoongi to lay flat on his back. She climbs into his lap and sinks down onto his cock in one abrupt motion without even bothering to tease him.

The pleasure is overwhelming; Yoongi stretches her so, so good and Y/N feels so, so warm and tight around Yoongi that he loses all of his control over his body. His eyes are bright purple now, pupils forming into slits that remind Y/N more of a snake than a dragon. His skin burns up, almost too much for her to bear, but the hissing noises Yoongi releases are enough to hold on through it.

“Fuck, sorry, wait a second,” Yoongi tries to push her off so she can cool down a little bit, but Y/N just shakes her head. She shushes him with a gentle kiss, careful of the fangs that now poke out between his lips again. “Don’t hold back, it’s not hurting me. Be yourself, Yoongi. I trust you.”

Yoongi curses under his breath as he tries his best not to move, letting Y/N adjust to his size and the circumstances of his inhumane origin. He’s never fucked a human, and even though they’re not that much different from hybrids he knew that he didn’t want to hurt her.

“It’s not only the temperature,” Yoongi groans, “I tend to bite and mark my partners. I don’t know how your body would react to it, though. I sometimes say or do things that my human side would never say.”

Y/N smiles at him, fondness blooming in her heart as she starts swaying her hips slowly, not breaking eye contact. “Like I said, Yoongi, I trust you. I’m sure that you’re inside your inner dragon, that you won’t hurt me and even if I tell you to stop; you’d be able to. Now, c’mon, don’t tell me you’re getting all shy while your dick is inside me?”

She tilts her head with a playful smile as her hands glide down Yoongi’s toned chest, teasing his perky nipples and playing with his beautiful scales. It was still hard to believe that the rarest, most powerful hybrid was right here with her, laying underneath her, sharing this moment with her.

“Now come on, Yoongi, wake up the dragon and give me what you’ve promised.”

Yoongi didn’t need to be told twice, hands landing a firm grip on Y/N’s hips as he plants his feet firmly on the mattress before quickly pistoning up inside her. Y/N cries in pleasure, but Yoongi almost doesn’t hear it, too lost in the feeling of her tight pussy around his cock. He’s still trying to be careful, keeping his claws under control so he won’t actually tear her apart.

“‘m gonna make you cum so good, Petal. So, so good.”

Then, he flips them around in one swift motion, hovering over her frame as he looks down at her like only a predator could. “Mine,” he snarls as he licks into Y/N’s mouth, hips moving slowly but so powerful that her body pushes up into the pillow with each thrust. “Say it, Petal. Say you’re mine.”

Yoongi grabs her face so she can’t break eye contact - not that she would, who could look away from such eyes? They’re hypnotizing and Y/N is sure that she will do just about anything for him right now.

“I’m yours, Yoongi. It’s just you and me right now,” she breathes out as she grabs his hair, pulling his head closer so she can connect their lips once more.

Yoongi’s hips start to stutter, his orgasm approaching, but he didn’t want it to end just yet. Of course, dragon stamina is different, but where would be the fun in that? Orgasm control and denial is a thing that Yoongi enjoys here and there, teasing himself whilst masturbating, not letting him or his partners come and delaying their pleasure for as long as he possibly can. That’s why he pulls out quickly, leaving Y/N’s core clench around nothing.

“The fuck, Yoongi?” Y/N whines and glares at the man in front of her, eyeing his sweaty body.

He laughs and presses a quick kiss to her lips before he sits back on his heels, staring at her body as well. Her chest is heaving, fine pearls of sweat dripping down the space between her breasts and her legs are slightly shaking - all of that is enough to boost Yoongi’s confidence as he quickly pushes two of his fingers inside her, pumping them at a rapid pace. His teeth - and fangs - nibble on her nipples, pulling them slightly, almost crossing the border of comfortable pain as he fingers her through her second orgasm of the night.

“Do you want to kill me?” Y/N sighs as she catches her breath, knowing that Yoongi is not done with her for tonight.

He laughs again, fangs shining in the light and tiny droplets of sweat fall out of his hair as he shakes his head. “I could, but where would be the fun in that? Or are you one of those girls that like the thrill of almost being killed? I could choke you if you’re into that.”

“Oh, I am into that, but not after orgasming two times and knowing that there will probably be two more coming. Is that one of your kinks? Choking?” She tilts her head in an adorable way - too adorable for the position she’s in right now.

“Mhhm,” Yoongi hums whilst tracing the sensitive skin on her stomach. Y/N jumps slightly, shooting Yoongi a playful glare before quickly jumping onto him. She sits down on his abdomen, leans over and closes her hands around his throat. “Do you like being choked too?”

“Can you handle me fighting back against it?” The challenge shimmers in Yoongi’s eyes, knowing that Y/N is nowhere as strong as he is, but he loves playing. He doesn’t mind if she wants to be on top, he enjoys losing control once in a while, but his dragon usually hates it, fights against it.

Y/N loosens the grip of one hand to slowly rake her fingernails down his chest, leaving visible lines. “I’ve never said no to a good fight, Yoongi.”

The hybrid growls, hands balling to fists as Y/N tightens the grip on his neck once again.

“This is so hot, you’re so hot,” He whispers, eyes closed and lost in the feeling.

Then, Y/N lines herself up with Yoongi again and sinks down slowly, gasping slightly because the stretch is still there, but it feels so good. “God, move, please move,” Yoongi rasps and who would Y/N be to deny him such a thing? She uses both of her hands to sturdy herself on his chest whilst quickly bouncing up and down his cock. The noises that Yoongi makes are music to her ears, he’s usually so quiet, but now he doesn’t even try to hide the pleasure he’s feeling.

He groans, grunts, hisses and even moans whilst his hips buckle up to meet her thrusts. “Fuck, I’m going to breed you so well. You’re mine, Y/N. Gonna be my mate, huh? Gonna carry my chicks, all beautiful and round.”

Y/N’s eyes widen at Yoongi’s confession, but she can’t deny the arousal that floods through her body with his words. “Yes, Yoongi. Fuck, yes, breed me.”

By now the biggest roar leaves Yoongi’s chest as he pushes Y/N off, to grab her hips and position her on all fours in front of him. A harsh slap lands on her ass as he pushes in again, pressing her face-down into the pillows. “I will, Petal. You could never want anyone else after being mine. Nobody else. Just me.”

His hand finds its way into her hair, wrapping it around his wrist as he pulls her head back, having her at full mercy.

They’re both a loud mess by now and Yoongi is fucking thankful for the bunker, because imagine if they’d go on like this in Taehyung’s cabin instead - the entire forest would be able to listen to them.

It’s gross and sweaty, wild and not gentle, but both of them enjoy it way too much.

Y/N can’t even warn Yoongi before her third orgasm washes through her body and the tight clench combined with her sinful moans sends Yoongi over the edge too - spilling his thick load into her with one last thrust.

“Shit,” he groans as he collapses on top of her, pressing kisses all over her neck. “You were so good, Petal.”

Y/N smiles, nuzzling back into him and closes her eyes to enjoy the comfortable post-sex silence. Yoongi hums quietly, giving the two of them time to cool down - he helps her by reducing his body temperature again -, then he pulls out. “Ew,” he mutters as his cum gushes out of her.

“Creampies are hot whilst you’re still busy with fucking, but afterwards it’s just a gross mess. Wanna take a shower?”

Y/N’s way too lazy to shower right now, she’d die for a hot bath but the bunker didn’t give her any chance to fulfill that dream, so she just nods. “Mhm, yes, but you’ve got to carry me, you big lizard.”

Yoongi furrows his eyebrows before sighing in defeat. “Guess I’ll need to show you my dragon once again.” He lifts Y/N up easily and carries her towards the bathroom, just to have her at his mercy once more. And this time, Y/N doesn’t argue about him being a true dragon.

Days and nights go by quickly whilst Yoongi and Y/N grow closer each passing minute.

They spend their days together training, teaching each other self defense tricks and talking about which places they want to travel to next.

They do sleep together now, not fighting over who will get the bed and who will have to stay on the couch. Some nights are a bit colder, which gives Yoongi the opportunity to hold Y/N close to his chest while slowly heating himself up to a comfortable temperature to sleep in. In general, you could say that Yoongi and Y/N act like a couple - though they don’t talk about their feelings right now.

Yoongi has never been in love and neither has Y/N, Kkangpae hasn't given them any chance to find a suitable partner to spend their lives with. So how would they know if love is what they are feeling?

What Yoongi does know is that he’d protect Y/N with his life - and vice versa.

Cuddling on the couch has become a thing for Y/N and Yoongi and he hates being unsure about the whole situation, he didn’t want to label them, but he is itching to know what’s going on between them. So one evening after dinner, he blurts out “Are we in a relationship? Like, are we a thing now?”

Y/N jumps slightly in Yoongi’s embrace and looks up at the hybrid, unsure. “I… don’t know? I guess you could say so, we do a lot of couple things, I mean last night when you ate my..-”

“Oh, yes, I remember. That was fun!”

Yoongi smirks at the memory of last night’s bedtime adventures, Y/N trapped underneath him, her legs wrapping around his head as he ate her out slowly and teasingly, before he just pulls her on top of himself to sit on his face. Now he has not only her pussy in front of him, but also her ass - and what kind of man would Yoongi be to not use this opportunity?

“I mean, I would… I would like to be in a relationship with you, Yoongi. I trust you, I really like you and I feel like we’ll be spending the rest of our lives together anyway,” Y/N looks at her hands and bites her lip in anticipation, fearful about the man’s answer.

“That sounds like you’re choosing to date me just because I’m the only man around you, Petal.”

He gently grabs her face, giving her no chance to break the eye contact. This time, the green in his eyes is more prominent than the purple - a rare sight, but Y/N is still in awe. “I want you to choose me because you actually like me, Y/N. Not just like, but maybe even love me. I know we haven’t known each other for a long time, there can’t be love between us for now, but I can say for myself that I am really close to loving you. I want to spend the rest of my life running away with you, not just because I have to.”

Y/N pouts, eyebrows furrowing as she looks at Yoongi. “I didn’t mean it like that, Yoongi. But if you’re asking this charmingly, yes, I’d like to date you too, you big baby.” Yoongi growls playfully, showing off his fangs - which he knows that they don’t scare Y/N at all, but he’s proud of them, so he shows them off here and there - and pressing a gentle kiss onto her lips.

Feelings change kisses. Kissing somebody that you’re now dating is even better so the new couple spends minutes kissing each other carefully and lovingly. Yoongi is just about to get Y/N on his lap as the door bursts open and an out of breath looking Taehyung stands in the living room.

“Yoongi… They’re here… Rats, but they smelled weird,” the hybrid pants as he looks at Yoongi.

The dragon just stares at Taehyung intensely, before nodding. “Thanks, man. Really. For your help, for letting us stay here, take care of yourself, okay?”

All of them know that it’s now the time for Y/N and Yoongi to leave, not coming back ever again because Kkangpae would always have their men here from now on.

“Thank you, Tae,” Y/N bows slightly with red cheeks, still embarrassed that they got caught.

“Good luck, guys.” Taehyung sends them a hurt smile, knowing that he and Yoongi could actually be friends if their lives were different, but now it was time to say goodbye so Taehyung turns around and leaves as quickly as he came.

Yoongi sighs as he stands up and starts gathering their things. “Time to pack. You’ll do the bedroom and I’ll collect our stuff from here, okay? I think the next stop will be South Africa, it’s a long trip but it’ll be worth it, Kkangpae would probably never search for us there.”

And so, they do end up in Kenya almost two weeks later, the US long forgotten as their lives go on.

The trip is actually fun, Yoongi and Y/N riding on their motorbikes - Yoongi is even allowed to ride hers for a short amount of time - taking the ferry instead of the plane and sleeping at random places in the countries they passed.

Kenya is beautiful, the temperature is perfect for Yoongi and he finally gets the glow a true dragon should have. He doesn’t look as pale anymore, random scales growing here and there on his arms and neck and Y/N has never found Yoongi to be more beautiful. He seems truly happy.

The couple even started to go out, visiting different National Parks and trying to find some volcanoes for Yoongi. Y/N knows that she could never go near an active volcano, but Yoongi swears that he needed them at least once every two months to keep his dragon alive - though Y/N thinks he wants to take a long nap in the lava again.

During their time at the Masai Mara National Reserve they met another hybrid, a rare persian cheetah by the name of Hoseok. He greets them with open arms and is friendly enough to show them around.

Hoseok also gives them a perfect description of how Yoongi would find the only active volcano in South Africa on Marion Island. That’s where the couple is right now, Y/N swimming in the turquoise water around the island whilst Yoongi takes, to no surprise, a nap in the lava.

They’re genuinely happy, living more relaxed and peaceful than ever before and once Yoongi wakes up from his nap and sees Y/N still swimming around, playing with little fish and looking as beautiful as ever, he just knows that he made the right decision. She’s the one he wants to spend his life with, have kids with and die with.

They have a good feeling that Kkangpae won’t find them here. This can be their home from now on. Though, they wouldn’t mind the chance to discover more of the earth, travel around and meet new people.

But South Korea isn’t on their list, that’s for sure.

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themoonandotherslikeit · 3 years

Text

Painted - Chapter One

“Every portrait that is painted with feeling is a portrait of the artist, not of the sitter.” - Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

Y/N has moved on, her scars are barely noticeable anymore, and she’s finally stable. Or at least she was.

10 years after the worst day of her life, Y/N found herself staring face to face with an unimaginable horror. In the wake of her worst nightmare come to life, she finds herself reunited with the man that saved her all those years ago - Agent Dean Winchester who had left her a decade before broken and wanting.

Dean Winchester has spent the last 10 years trying desperately to forget Y/N and the tragedy that he pulled her out of, but when she called asking for his help he dropped everything to come to her aid as he knew he always would.

Can Y/N and Dean solve the mystery that has resurfaced after all this time? Will they be able to resist the pull between them? Or will this be the final brush strokes on a canvas, sealing their fate for good?

No Beta currently, all mistakes are my own!

Pairing: Dean/Reader

Tags: Dark!Fic, Agent!Dean, Serial Killer Fic, Smut etc.

Chapter One

Everything has a color. To Y/N, violence was red. She pulled back her arm, her fist colliding with the heft of her punching bag with a soft thud . One, two, kick. She liked training alone, it centered her, cleared her mind. She didn’t have to worry about pulling her punches, avoiding the knees when she kicked. The biggest danger was the skin on her knuckles, which were expertly wrapped.

It all started as self defense, a way to ease her mind as she walked back to her Jeep on the dark nights, but it had evolved to something else altogether. She didn’t fight because she was afraid, she fought because she was pissed . She was pissed that she had to learn to defend herself; that other women did. She taught classes so that her community would be safe, so that they’d find less women abandoned in ditches beaten to death.

But when she was alone, it was something else completely. The why of the thing was a mystery most of the time, even to her. People used to ask her if she was afraid she would see him again. She wasn't, not really. But she kept fighting anyway, and she would be lying if his face wasn’t the one she pictured every time her fist collided with the bag.

The beat of her music throbbed in her ears like an angry heartbeat as she went for an uppercut that rattled the bag. She was panting, sweat rolling down her temple. Each hit was a beat of her heart, causing the bag to come alive. With each swing she made, it swung back at her. She was strong, and she wasn’t holding back. One, two, kick.

Her watch chimed to alert her that she hit her workout goal for the day, but she had more fire within her that needed to be extinguished. It was a long workout, even for her, but she had a lot on her mind. If she was thinking about the ache of her knuckles and burning in her biceps, she was less likely to obsess over the things she couldn’t control. So she hit the bag again and again.

The sun was starting to speckle through the blinds on the storefront window, making the sweat on her arms glisten like diamonds. She considered, just for a moment, how the coast would look against the purples and oranges of the sunrise. She could have a coffee and just enjoy the silence. Or she could keep fighting. That answer was easy. She didn’t have time to appreciate the beauty in life. She hadn’t for a long time. All of the colors had lost their brightness, the depth that he used to talk about so frequently. The thing that kept him mixing until it was just right.

She hadn’t thought of him in so long, so when the thought came to her, she didn’t react fast enough to the bag swinging back toward her from her last hit. It collided directly with her face, sending her backwards onto the mat. A loud, painful crack echoed through her skull as her nose collided with the bag. She laid there for a moment, groaning. She tried to sit up, her nose throbbing and her mouth filling with blood from the hit. “Fuck me,” she whispered to no one in particular.

Trauma was black. According to her therapist, there were different types of trauma. Y/N learned that they all could be sorted into one of three main categories: acute trauma that results from a single incident, chronic trauma that is repeated and prolonged such as domestic violence or abuse, and complex trauma which is exposure to varied and multiple traumatic events, often of an invasive, interpersonal nature. More so, there was capital T trauma and what she called little t trauma . Capital T was the big stuff, the stuff that wrecks a person in an irreparable way. Little t was less so. It is possible for a traumatized person to get over a little t trauma.

In Y/N’s life she’d seen her fair share of trauma. Probably more than a thirty-three year old woman should’ve. She’d seen trauma happen to others, happen to herself, and continue to happen in case after case that she worked. She saw trauma that others didn’t. The kind of trauma that couldn’t be seen from the outside. The kind of trauma that a person inflicts upon themselves.

She was always told that trauma healed over time, like a bruise, but for her, trauma was a cut that kept reopening. It was a scab that she couldn’t stop picking at, a bruise that seemed to deepen to a darker purple before it ever yellowed. Her eyes stung from the hit, and she wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

The only way she knew how to heal was to move on, leave the trauma behind. Her therapist told her to imagine herself placing the memories in a box and locking them away. Sometimes, when she was alone, she could hear that box screaming, banging, and begging to be opened. She resisted the urge, especially today.

She forced herself to stand, her head spinning. She leaned against the wall to regain her balance before she walked out to her car, her head tilted back. She could feel the blood roll down the back of her throat since it was unable to escape her nostril. She’d be pissed if she broke her nose, but, from what she could tell, it seemed intact even though it hurt like a bitch.

Her headphones were askew, but still playing her workout mix. She adjusted them and spit some blood from her mouth. She wouldn’t be thwarted by a fall; no, she wouldn’t be taken down so easily. If she fell in the gym and no one was there to witness her humiliation, did she even fall? The answer to that depended on if anyone would notice her bruised nose after the fact. If they didn’t, as far as she was concerned, she had a perfect refreshing work out with no issues whatsoever. Maybe with enough makeup her secret would remain her own.

10 years earlier

The sound of his paintbrush swiping delicately against canvas was soothing to Y/N. She sat on the edge of the bed, atop black satin sheets, resting on her hands, her back arched and her legs spread just right. Her long strawberry hair fell down her shoulders in loose waves onto the sheets.

“Just like that,” Lucifer murmured, a blonde wave falling into his eye. He was focused, his tongue partially out of his mouth, his eyebrows knitted together. She wasn’t able to see the painting from her vantage point, but she knew what it was. It was always the same. I just can’t get you right, he’d complain, his voice laced with pain and disdain. She thought he made her more beautiful than she ever could be on her own.

When she’d met him, he was so focused on his art. He would eat, sleep, and drink his paintings. His clothing was speckled with oil colors, his fingers calloused from gripping paint brushes for hours on end. She found him sexy and mysterious. She was dying to know the man behind such beautiful pieces of art.

It didn’t take long for his obsession to shift from his art directly to her. He doted on her endlessly, showering her in flowers, candy, candlelight dinners. They made love constantly. He couldn’t get enough of her.

“Let me paint you, Y/N,” he’d purr between her legs. “I just want to paint you.” It took her weeks to say yes. She’d always brush him off, blushing and insecure. “You’re exquisite. Please let me paint you.”

She struggled to deny Lucifer’s requests when he asked as his breath tickled the inside of her thigh. It was hard to deny him of anything , if she was being honest. The first time she said yes, he arrived in her bedroom and asked her to drop the floral robe she was wearing. He’d seen her naked dozens of times, but she was still nervous, vulnerable, staring at him. She brought him a bag, insisting that he look inside before she disrobed.

He stared at the bag, confused.

“They’re body paints,” she explained. “I thought you wanted to paint me.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. They made love on the apartment floor, painting designs on each other's skin until she was swollen and wanting, gasping his name into the night.

When she woke up in the early hours of the morning, she found him painting her image onto a canvas laying splayed out, covered in swirls of sex and paint. “Don’t move,” he instructed calmly. She wanted to be angry, but she still felt drunk from being ravished, and his eyes examining her were sensual and slow. She watched his wrist spin and curl, and a chill ran up her spine.

“Lucifer, how much longer? ”

“You’re just so beautiful, Y/N. You know that, right?”

“No,” she murmured, and his eyebrows knitted together.

“We will fix that,” he promised. “You will always be this beautiful.” He was talking to her, she logically knew that, but from her vantage point she could’ve sworn he was speaking to the canvas.

Present

Y/N entered the code to unlock the front gate to her property, leaning half out her car window. Thankfully, her bleeding had stopped, but her upper lip and chin were still crusty with blood. She looked like a mess, if she was being honest, but the only one there to judge her was her chocolate brown pit bull, Castiel, and Y/N figured that Cas wouldn’t care much either way.

The iron gate opened with a groan, sliding to her right. She slid back into her seat and shifted out of park to pull forward down the driveway toward her house. It was modest, nothing too big or magnificent. The outside was grey brick, a two story home with a large green yard and a pool in the back. As she pulled up, she could already see Castiel’s nose pressed against the window, her head through the thick curtains. Y/N smiled, her heart warming at the sight. She wiggled her fingers at Castiel in a small wave.

Castiel greeted her at the door, his tail wagging excitedly. She knelt down to pet his chin only to be met with deep blue eyes and a pink tongue. “I know, buddy. I need to shower somethin’ fierce.”

She kissed his nose and murmured. “I’m good. We’re good.” Half the time she wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince. She locked the front door behind her and kicked off her shoes. Her arms ached and her heartbeat was still residing in her sinus from her fall. She let her hair out of the tie that kept it up in a high ponytail, letting it fall down her back. Her head was sore from her hair being up for hours. She massaged her scalp with a wince. Everything hurt and she couldn’t wait to wash her problems down the drain and start fresh.

Her work out clothes were discarded on the bathroom floor, the sound of running water and the steam accumulating in the air were already starting to soothe her. She took a deep breath in through her nose with a wince before stepping into the shower and closing the curtain behind her.

Y/N faced the water, letting the heat roll down her skin. The water ran brown from sweat and blood. She braced her hands on the walls of the shower to keep herself steady. She closed her eyes, letting the baptism wash her worries away. Time has a way of wrecking a person, she knew that much. It gave a false sense of security, a sense of growth and change. She spent so much time trying to put her past behind her, locked away inside of a box.

She opened her eyes and looked at the half sleeves covering her wrists and forearms. The flowers and vines twisting around her arms, climbing, and growing out of thick, pink scars - creating something beautiful out of tragedy. She had hoped, when she got them, that they would help her heal and forget. She could laugh now at that naive girl who thought anything would let her forget. Time heals wounds, yes, but the greatest ones still ached in the cold and the rain.

Suds from soap and shampoo swirled down the drain, and she reached down to turn off the water. She wrapped her hair in a towel and slipped into her robe. She could hear Castiel whine outside of the bathroom door, unusually unhappy with not being able to see her. “You’re good, Cas,” she called out, wiping the fog from the mirror. She examined her nose. It was a little swollen and already beginning to bruise. She cursed to herself and just hoped that it’d be dull enough that her painted foundation would cover it. The last thing she needed was to worry those around her.

Castiel scratched at the door again, and she opened it, her dog circling her legs impatiently. “What is your deal?” Y/N reached down and scratched behind her ear, eliciting licks from Castiel.

Towel drying her hair, she stepped out of the bathroom and rounded the corner. Her eyes were heavy, and her head pounded from the hit. She needed coffee, bad . As she turned the corner, she stopped dead in her tracks, her towel falling from her hand. Castiel whined insistently, nudging Y/N’s leg with his nose. She stared face to face with something so familiar that it made her gut tighten, acid crawling up her throat.

A painting hung at her eye level in the hallway near the bathroom. Fine brush strokes of pale peach skin, strawberry twists of hair splayed out on black satin sheets, flushed cheeks, parted lips, and freckled legs spread out, exposing a delicate pink vagina tucked between them.

Y/N stared at herself. Her eyes closed, her swollen mouth, her pink cheeks on a face and head that belonged to her. Her freckled neck blended downwards onto heavy breasts with dark nipples and a mole under the right that she’d never seen before.

Her knees were weak, and she stumbled back, bumping into Castiel and tumbling backwards. She fell, hitting her tailbone on the wood floors with a hard smack . Tears burned in her eyes, from pain or fear she wasn’t sure. Castiel came to her, licking her cheek in concern.

Anxiety crept into her chest, pressing down heavily. She gasped for breath and clamped her eyes shut. She pictured the box inside of her mind, thrashing and pulsing with anger, begging to be opened. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she forced herself to stand on shaking legs. She made her way to her bedroom and quickly spun the code on her safe, pulling her gun from it. She clicked the safety off and held it in front of her.

With each room that she checked she only found an emptiness that overtook her home with a heaviness that seemed to engulf her completely. Nothing seemed strange or out of place other than the large depiction of her naked body that hung on her wall.

She kept her gun positioned outward and pulled out her cellphone, dialing the number that she could never forget. All she could hope for was an answer, and as a ring met her ear she let out a sigh of relief. It had been so long, she had expected a disconnected tone. She pressed the phone closer to her ear as she heard his voice.

“Y/N?”

“He’s back.”

------

Chapter Two

Read on A03 Here

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rockmiyabideusexmachina · 4 years

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2020 Megaman Valentine’s Day Contest - Cat. 1 (Talent) Results!

Thank you to everyone again for your patience! This is getting posted way later than I wanted to. As much as I try to keep it short and sweet, I never do, so bear with my walls of text.

For the talent category this year, the theme was about killing Mega Man with kindness. More specifically, entrants had to create their own original love/Valentine’s-themed Robot Master or equivalent boss character that was created to defeat Mega Man with the power of love! Even though the theme title and concept alluded more to the classic Robot Master character contests, designs for any series were acceptable. But other than one Navi and one Reploid entry, everyone stuck to a Classic-series themed creation. So you were all pretty consistent!

There were a total of 16 entries for this category this year. Thank you all for your participation! It was extremely hard to choose winners for this category, because you all had really clever and creative concepts based off of this theme. So thank you for thinking up such clever and cool characters!!

Also thanks to Reploid 21XX for the coloring book prizes and for some additional insight.

Again, raffle prize winners will be contained in both posts, so keep an eye out between your name and your art. Not all raffle prize winners are contained in this post. I’ll be contacting all winners soon enough, so sit tight! Might be late after work tonight, so don’t panic if you don’t hear from me right after this is posted.

Your category winners and full gallery of entries are right here, after the break:

Category 1 (Talent) - Dr. Wily’s Greatest Creation: Killing Mega Man With Kindness

[Full Talent Gallery]

1.) @mo-sketchbook:

*For coming in 1st, mo-sketchbook has won $100 via Paypal, or a prize of their choice up to that value AND a Rockman 7 Coloring Book.*

First and foremost, I appreciate all the effort you put into covering so many aspects of your creation, from the various design viewpoints, weapon get form for Mega Man, and showing the weapon in action. I really loved all the things you integrated into the design to give off the feeling that it is a love-based character. The “love bug” form, cherub-like Heat/Plug-type facial features, and how you utilized hearts in different ways for his design and powers.

I’m no Keiji Inafune, but I feel like this is a concept he would greenlight, in terms of it following his Robot Master design formula. It doesn’t need to be super detailed or flashy, but still fits the mold very well! The thought of the hearts missing their target and love energy then getting weaker is actually pretty clever, too. Cute, and I wuv it.

2.) @peachycircuits:

*For coming in 2nd, peachy has won $50 via Paypal, or a prize of their choice up to that value AND a Rockman 7 Coloring Book*

As usual, on the technical side of things, your art is one of the more polished and clean entries of the bunch. Combining a couple different aspects - swans as a creature known as a symbol of love, bonded for life like in marriage, and turning that into an inseparable pair of Robot Masters, was a clever way to think about your design, in terms of the theme of this category.

And then echoing that with the iconic Swan Lake, making them ballet dancers, is like taking Tundra Man and Gemini Man’s concept up another notch. Plus, not gonna lie, amused seeing Mega Man getting equipped with a tutu. LOL So even if it’s not as heart-themed as most of the other entries, I totally liked how you thought outside the box a little bit for this.

3.) Komito Amae:

*For coming in 3rd, Komito has won $25 via Paypal, or a prize of their choice up to that value*

I figured a cupid-styled arrow theme would pop up in a bunch of entries, but your Reploid, Beta, here caught my eye. Both in terms of the hearts, arrows and wings incorporated into her armor, and the pretty sweet looking buster that she and X both have equipped.

While I’m not sure how it would play out in the game, I think it would be interesting to suddenly take control of random enemies in a stage, and be able to change perspective as them for a short time, after you have shot them. Whether it would be to take out an enemy horde, or perform a task X can’t that the enemy could, it would be different! Can’t see it quite having the same powerful effect on a Maverick boss, but it’s certainly neat to think about how that could work!

And the rest of the wonderful entries, in alphabetical order by alias:

@autobot-bumblebee:

*Raffle Prize Winner* Dreamwave Comics: Issue 4 Page 15

I’m sorry you didn’t win a cash prize this time! Please don’t take me hostage! I totally loved the creative vintage chocolate factory mascot backstory, along with making your entry like an Ariga-styled character sheet page. Certainly get that retro feel with her clothing design. Her rose blade kinda reminds me of other hand-turned-blade-like-weapon characters, such as Alan Gabriel in the Big O or Ed transmuting one in FMA. Which is always a snazzy transformation for a robot!

@drewblossom:

In all honesty, if I hadn’t placed you in the humor category, I think this would have very likely been somewhere in the top 3 for this category. A cuddly teddy bear with a massive Ariga-Quick Man-sized heart for a chest, extending flailing tube arms, who just wants to hug Mega Man to death is so amusing and awesome of a design. Hugs for everyone!

FluffyFrostyFury:

Your take of heat-seeking arrows and the added high jump powers were certainly a different take compared to the other cupid-styled creations. Definitely would be nice gameplay bonuses when equipped. I like how Mega Man also has the wings sprout out of his head, to mimic Cherub Woman’s pigtails, rather than the usual spot you would assume, on his back.

HealerCharm:

Hahaha, I love how your creation has caused Mega Man to wave the white flag after falling in love...wait, it isn’t White Day, and he should be giving her a gift if it was! XD Her hair tied up into a heart was a creative touch, much like how her dress flows into all those heart shapes. Adorable!

@inanehipsterslang:

Um, can...can I count on you to vote for Bernie this election year?

Remember kids, it’s what’s on the inside that counts, looks don’t matter. Everyone deserves love, even those you consider ‘vermin.’ This was certainly an unexpected take on the theme, and gave me a good laugh, too. ‘Boiling-hot water...with a hint of citrus!’ It burns, but it smells so lemony-fresh!! XD But the two different moves fit together well, to protect and attack.

I like how you still incorporated a heart shape into Rodent Woman’s design with, both in her chest shape and the “nostril” area which is echoed in the Rodent Rover. And also props for giving her the non-armor form, unique compared to other entries.

Mattasaurs:

On the one hand, your design feels so different for a Robot Master, and maybe more Navi-like. But then I get the Astro/Galaxy-type eye vibe, and sort of a Plant Man~ish body with Devil hands feel, and see how it’d fit into Classic. It’s a unique look, and I liked it the more I inspected it. I really do love the idea of the heart bubble entrapping more and more enemies, and the big ol’ group hug ending up bursting their love bubble. It’s a different concept that stood out!

Minnie:

Our Navi of the bunch combined the love bug and cupid design, but your concept changed up the attack to suck out the energy of it’s target. Which almost made me think she should have an arrow-like mosquito nose, to feast on her target that way. XD I liked your wing shield concept and RiCO-styled skirt of hearts. Rock gets some cool shades in his Love Soul/Cross form, and I get the ProtoSoul vibe, with the shield transferring to his arm as well.

@pstart:

Another Heat/Plug-type design Share Man looks cute and sleepy, but is also “clumsy and weak.” His ability is to share body parts, so “the danger is in him sharing his less than ideal parts with his opponents.” It’s a totally neat concept, to see Mega Man lose his buster almost by accident, and now be powerless to stop Share Man. His split color scheme drives home the concept that his parts might not all be his own, and sort of a Frankenstein bot at times. Props to that idea!

While his weapon gives Mega Man the power to make enemies docile and sleepy, I really almost want to see Mega Man get dumb parts of enemies, too! Helmet switched to a Met helmet, Batton wings, a big Suzy eye! It’s now I’ve got your power...but...but what am I supposed to do with it? XD

RetroNinjin:

Unlike most others, your entry pushed the heart theme heavily in her armor design around the entire head and shoulder parts, so I definitely felt the love vibe. The color scheme fits well. Just would have liked to have had seen a little more information about her attack and concept.

RoninApprentice:

Mega Man having a “Wing Man” to set him up is a hilarious and clever idea! I give you kudos for thinking outside the box a bit on your concept and theme here. The shipping chart certainly drives the idea home, too. You still give him a classy/formal look, and keep the wing man aviation origin apparent in his attack style. Certainly a different idea having the heart bowtie transfer to Rock’s helmet in the form change, but it really doesn’t look that bad there, opposed to around his neck like it would be normally.

@star-crossed-swords:

Different from the other cupid concepts, Eros Woman utilizes a Search-Man like targeting system to hit her targets. I like the heart scope addition over her and Rock’s eye when they go into firing mode. You took a different approach to the wing concept compared to others, echoing Cinnamon’s hairstyle in many respects. But it certainly fits with the rest of her design nicely, and looks good for Mega Man’s equipped form.

@star-shaped-soul:

Love that you were able to both include a drawing and your own sprite, to mix in with the weapon equip ones. That is one powerful crush Mega Man has on his enemies now! I feel bad for Crush Man with how big and heavy those snare trap hands of his are. This seems like a Robot Master too cute for Wily to design; more like he stole him and added horrible, cruel hands onto him! This is taking a crush on someone to a whole different level! XD

Yuri Kadry:

When equipped with Cupid Man’s power, I like the visor Mega Man gets. I think this is also a clever use of the weapon, having enemies shot attracted to one another, causing them to collide into each other. Well thought out! Love the original sprite art, and he stands out nicely against the pinks and purples in the background.

#Rockman #Megaman #Mega Man #Rock Miyabi's 2020 Megaman Valentine's Day Contest

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iam93percentstardust · 4 years

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I have now finished two chapters of A King for Christmas so here’s another excerpt. This one is longer so it’s beneath a read more.

Also, maybe a trigger warning for period typical about “unintelligent” children (because they don’t know there are other kinds of intelligence)? Anyway:

Pepper’s been interviewing potential nannies all day and frankly, she’s tired of it. Most of them are easy to dismiss but there’s just enough minor nobles looking to curry favor with the king and highly recommended governesses and tutors that it becomes an all-day affair.

Part of the problem is that the king refuses to hire both a nanny for the younger children and a tutor for the older ones. Ever since the queen died, he’s kept the castle staff to a bare minimum, including the caretakers for his children. Of course, if Margaret had still been alive, she would have taken care of them herself the way she had in life. But the king had always been somewhat distant, more concerned with affairs of state. There’d been many changes when the queen had died but the king growing closer to his children had not been one of them.

All of which had led Pepper to her search for someone who can handle both young children and newly teenagers. Those kinds of people are difficult to find, even if she wasn’t looking for someone who could handle four rowdy children. Most of the applicants are either nannies for infant babes or tutors for young adults but not both.

She rests her head in her hands as the latest applicant leaves and groans. “That bad?” Natasha asks sympathetically as she pops her head around the edge of the door.

“Dreadful,” Pepper admits. “You’d think he’d never met a child before at all. What drove him to want to work with them, I’ll never know.”

“The prestige,” Natasha suggests wisely and she’s probably not far off. The prestige of working for a king, even if it’s just taking care of his children, is a potent lure.

“What about the next one?” Pepper asks. “Does he seem like he has experience with children?”

Natasha shakes her head. “Truthfully, he seems just as sheltered as the nobles we’ve seen today.”

Pepper doesn’t feel up to dealing with another one of those. “Can’t you just send him away?” she asks.

Uncharacteristically, Natasha hesitates. After a too-long pause, Pepper looks up at her. “You can’t just dismiss him,” Natasha explains. “Jack Kirby from the inn sent him. And there’s something…different about this one.”

Pepper’s never yet regretted a hire Mr. Kirby sent their way. Natasha had actually been hired on Mr. Kirby’s recommendation. She’s a little more reluctant to hire the caretaker of the king’s children based on the old innkeeper’s recommendation but she is at least willing to hear him out.

She nods. “Send him on in.”

The man who pushes the door open is—well, Pepper sees immediately why Natasha had called him different. He’s young, far younger than most of the other applicants, almost too young to be a nanny. He’s pretty, not like the stately and imposing applicants she’s been interviewing: all long legs and trim waist, curly brown hair and eyes too big to be allowed, a little small for a beta—and then Pepper catches a whiff of his scent, oranges and some sort of flower that she thinks might be honeysuckle.

“Oh,” she murmurs. “You’re not a beta at all, are you?”

The children have never had an omega nanny before. The castle staff is comprised entirely of alphas and betas as the king doesn’t like to have omegas in the castle, not out of any sort of misplaced prejudice but because they—like so many other things—reminded him of his late wife. That alone would be enough for Pepper to dismiss him but Mr. Kirby had sent him. She wants to at least hear him out.

“Can you read?” she asks brusquely. Perhaps she shouldn’t have started like that but it’s been a long day and she’s not sure why Mr. Kirby had sent this boy when he knows that the king doesn’t hire omegas.

The omega hesitates. Pepper sighs and starts to repeat the question but then there’s a flash of fire in his eyes. He says, “My name is Anthony Carbonell. Thank you for agreeing to see me today—and yes, I can read.”

The response takes Pepper aback, partially because she’d forgotten to ask his name and partially because she hadn’t expected that kind of fire out of someone as delicate as him. She starts to laugh after a moment because she really gets it now, gets why Natasha had wanted her to see him.

“My apologies,” she says and waves at the seat across the table. “Please, have a seat. I’m Miss Potts, the housekeeper.”

Mr. Carbonell sits down gingerly, almost like he’s afraid he’ll ruin the plush upholstery with his clothes. Pepper doesn’t blame him. His clothes look like they were once fine but also like they’re the only clothes he’s had in a long time.

“Do you come with any references?” she asks.

“Only two,” Mr. Carbonell says. He withdraws a letter from his pocket and passes it to her, hand lingering on the envelope as though he can’t bear to let it go. “Mr. Kirby’s and that letter from my—friend.”

Pepper notes the odd hesitation and wonders what he meant to say instead. “American?” she asks. It’s not unusual. Quite a large number of them had fled to the continent both during and after their Civil War though not many had made their way to Dacia.

“Yes ma’am,” Mr. Carbonell says politely. There’s something behind his tone, something that makes Pepper think he’s not used to saying those words. She takes another look at his clothes, notes the fine stitching, flicks her gaze up to the aristocratic arch of his nose, eyes how he doesn’t even fidget under her piercing gaze. She’s never heard a posh American accent before but she’d wager everything she owns that this boy’s accent is it.

A society omega, she thinks and then wonders, What are you doing here?

She doesn’t usually like to read the references first, choosing instead to make her own impressions before she reads someone else’s, but she finds that she’s too curious for any answers the letter may give. She slides her knife through the sealing wax, lifts the letter out—heavy paper, the kind that comes from a wealthy home—and glances through it, phrases sticking out in her mind—Anthony Stark, not Carbonell; a broken engagement; fear of the alpha; and at the end, signed Edwin Jarvis. She folds the letter back up and tucks it away in her pocket.

Pepper knows about the Jarvis family. One of the younger ones had been employed at the castle for nearly a year as the children’s first nanny. Pepper hadn’t wanted to let her go either, already foreseeing that it would be the first in a long string of nannies, but the girl had insisted. She’d been the only nanny to leave with a recommendation from Pepper. The others had fled too quickly.

“This letter says you can do sums,” she says eventually. It actually says that Mr. Carbonell worked for his father’s company since he was a boy, both designing and building the weapons they sold, but she figures Mr. Carbonell doesn’t need to know how impressed she is by that.

Idly, like he knows that’s not what the letter says at all, Mr. Carbonell asks, “Does it? Shame, I would’ve thought Jarvis had a higher opinion of me.”

Pepper ducks her head to hide her smile. “Can you?” she asks.

“I think you know I can.”

She hums consideringly. “You said you can read. Can you write?”

“Yes.”

“What about teach? Will you be able to teach the children?”

“I tutored my classmates in school,” he offers.

“That’s not quite the same, is it?”

Mr. Carbonell shrugs. “Depends. Are they as stupid as my classmates were?”

Pepper’s hand flies to her mouth. “I beg your pardon?” she gasps.

“The children,” Mr. Carbonell says patiently, a glint of amusement in his eyes at her horror. “Are they dullards?”

“I should think not!” she says indignantly. “Any child of the king—” He raises an eyebrow. She stops, starts again. “They’re extremely clever,” she admits. “Last month, the youngest built a trebuchet to launch her mashed potatoes across the nursery. She’s only four.”

Mr. Carbonell laughs delightedly, not at all concerned that Pepper’s just admitted that Morgan is a troublemaker. “I did the same for my peas when I was her age,” he confides.

She’s beginning to like Mr. Carbonell more and more. In fact, the more she thinks about the king’s sad eyes when his own son had called him sir, the more she thinks that Mr. Carbonell—who’d once built trebuchets for his peas—might be exactly what the castle needs.

“I just have a few more questions if you don’t mind,” she says, considerably warmer than when she’d started. “How heavy of a sleeper are you?”

“Not very,” Mr. Carbonell says. “I used to keep odd hours and now I have trouble sleeping. I’ll wake up if the children are distressed or—or if someone’s trying to get in.”

“And you don’t mind that the youngest is four?”

“Why would I mind that?”

Pepper bites her lip. This is where she loses quite a few potential nannies. “Because the eldest is thirteen.”

Mr. Carbonell looks shocked. She waits with baited breath for the inevitable—“Why don’t you have two different tutors?”

“His Majesty likes to keep a small household,” Pepper explains succinctly. He’ll figure the rest out soon enough.

The omega doesn’t look like he fully believes her but all he says is a doubtful, “Uh-huh.” Then, after a moment, “Are they all as intelligent as the youngest?”

Pepper doesn’t want to admit that Sarah sometimes seems as dull as a rock. She knows that it embarrasses the girl that even Morgan has surpassed her in their arithmetic lesson and more importantly, she knows how many tutors have taken it out on her for not seeming as bright as her siblings.

Instead she diplomatically says, “In their own ways.”

Mr. Carbonell studies her for a long moment. She wonders if he knows what she’s not saying. “I think I could manage it,” he says eventually but he looks a little dubious. But Pepper’s been impressed by everything he’s managed to handle no matter what she throws at him. She’s willing to give him the chance to prove himself.

“One final question then, if you don’t mind and I’m sorry that this seems rather personal but you have to understand that we don’t have many omegas in the castle.” She pauses and then decides to plunge ahead. “How bad are your heats?”

To his credit, Mr. Carbonell doesn’t seem surprised or offended at all. He just says, “Not bad at all. I get them every three months but they’re never more severe than a mild discomfort. I’ll still be able to teach the children and I shouldn’t distract anyone else from their work.”

“Lovely,” Pepper breathes out. “In that case, Mr. Carbonell, I think you have a job.”

“I do?” Mr. Carbonell asks, blinking. Then a relieved smile breaks out across his face. “Thank you.”

“When will you be able to move in?” Pepper asks.

This gives Mr. Carbonell some pause and he sighs quietly as he says, “I paid for my room for the month of December already.”

Pepper understands. She wouldn’t want to waste the coin either. “Could you move in a few days before Christmas?” she asks. Ordinarily, she’d push the issue but she’s desperate, willing to try just about anything, and she doesn’t want to push him away over something as silly as a room.

“I—yes,” Mr. Carbonell agrees. “I think I can manage that.”

“In the meantime, I can handle taking care of the children while you wrap up your affairs at Mr. Kirby’s. We’ll see you back here on the twentieth.”

“The twentieth,” he repeats obediently.

“Mr. Carbonell?” she calls as he starts to leave. “I look forward to working with you.”

He gives her an absolutely breathtaking smile and if Pepper didn’t have her heart set on someone else, she might have melted. “Call me Tony. Everyone else does.”

#a king for christmas #alle writes #excerpts #tony stark #pepper potts

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blog-sliverofjade · 4 years

Text

Omega Protocol 27: Interrogation

Summary: In the mid-21st century, the elite decided to cement society’s strata into our DNA, creating a genetic caste system. One of the early Omegas is cryogenically frozen and forgotten. Revived nearly two centuries later, she has no idea what she has become and has to navigate a strange new world while surrounded by Alphas, whatever those are.

Leading the military arm of his people in exile on a dangerous planet is no easy feat for Captain Niklaus Reed. He has to build and secure a settlement against megafauna straight out of the Ice Age before families start arriving on the distant planet. When an Omega is found in an old research base, things become… complicated.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26

Word Count: 1592

Much love to my awesome beta @pandabearer

“Talk to me.” Emma looked up from where she was idly tracing invisible designs on the ridges of his abdomen. It was the first time the Alpha had solicited her thoughts on anything.

“About what?”

“What happened last night.” Pulling away from him, she curled in on herself. Or rather, she tried to. Niklaus let her withdraw slightly, but his half-embrace held firm when she would have turned away. “Nice try.”

“How did you know…?” That I tried to literally curl up and die? He merely looked at her. Right, the thing between them that she’d been studiously trying to ignore. “I thought that they’d threatened to string you up by your thumbs if you didn’t leave me alone?”

“I think it involved honey, rope, and those giant fire ants. Or was it the death wasps?” She giggled at the mental picture, which was no doubt his intent. “I couldn’t just sit there with my thumb up my ass while you destroyed yourself,” he admitted once the laughter subsided. “You’re not talking to anyone. I figure I’m already on your shit list, might as well make you talk.”

“You’re going to interrogate me? Kinky.”

He didn’t dignify that with a response.

She lay there stiffly. Bracing his free hand behind his head, he tilted his face, eyes half-lidded, a little more towards the faint light filtering in. One could have been fooled into thinking he was dozing if they couldn’t see him rubbing small circles against her back.

When she finally did speak, her voice was raspy due to a dry mouth and being quiet for so long, not because of any lump in her throat. “I didn’t fight.” The words were barely even a breath. He waited until it was apparent she wasn’t going to continue.

“What did you do?” Turning to shelter her with his body, he petted her hair. This was a softer man than the one she’d first met, yet neither was he treating her with kid gloves like nearly everyone else was.

“I threw Fluffybutt at his face and ran.” Nik chuckled and she joined him, although hers was partly a choked sob.

“I knew something was wrong when your damn chicken came back squawking her head off. For that alone, she’s earned a stay of execution.” For all that she’d threatened to fry the bird at the time, Emma had to agree.

“I should’ve fought back,” she murmured to the scar on his chest that had suddenly become fascinating.

“With what? A chicken and harsh words?”

“There were sticks.” She wasn’t being defensive, she was pointing out facts.

“He was twice your size and had a spear,” he said in the same flat manner he did when dressing down one of his people for doing something mildly stupid. It had very rarely been directed at her. “You did the smart thing. Chances are he’d have killed you where you stood for challenging him. Running was your best choice. He was still faster, but you didn’t just stand there, did you?”

“No.” God, she’d rather go through chemo again than have this conversation.

“And the head wound didn’t help, did it?” Worrying at her bottom lip, she shook her head. “What else do you think you could’ve done?”

“Don’t patronize me!” Her ire lent her the fortitude to meet his gaze.

“I’m not.” A low, hard statement. “I’m trying to break you out of this spin you’re in.” When she would have ducked her head again to hide her vulnerability, he gripped her chin and stared into her eyes. “You’re too focused on what you think you should have done when the truth is you chose the course that ensured the greatest chance of survival.” The steely commander was back, yet there was nothing cool or distant about him now; the fiery intensity that lay just beneath the surface wouldn’t permit that.

“I’m tired of feeling weak.” She shook her head and her hair fell across her eyes, reminding her that she always suffered from the most horrendous bedhead. Sitting up, she worked her fingers through her hair in an attempt to get it looking less like a camel had chewed on it in her sleep. How does it manage to be both greasy and frizzy? “I’m tired of not having control over anything that happens to me. They took me from my home- my planet!- and changed me without my knowledge. then to freeze and forget about me. I’m still not sure how to feel about… my heat.” She had hated feeling that helpless and out of control. “Then that happened, and you did this!” A hand waved at the scar on her neck. “I don’t even remember the last time I could make a major decision for myself.” Her voice broke and trailed off. “I don’t even know if I can trust you.”

Reed felt like someone had cut him off at the knees and allowed a herd of moofalo to run over his body. His mate didn’t trust him, and he’d given her precious little reason to. She had scooted away from him to sit with her back against the wall. Already he missed the warm weight of her against him, leaving him cold, which was a rare sensation for him.

“From what I understand this is permanent.” There was no divorce for their kind. “What are my choices? Do I get any or are you going to keep dictating to me?” The hunch of her shoulders was a knife to his gut. “Makes me wonder what the point of living is if this could even be called a life.” He had taken bullets that hurt less than her speech.

“Don’t you dare give up now. You’ve survived too much for that.” It came out roughly, bordering on a growl, but she didn’t flinch. “Besides, you still have a chance to make me regret claiming you.”

“Spite as motivation to live?” A wry twist to her mouth.

“If it works.”

“You’re saying you don’t already regret this?”

“Not yet,” he smirked.

“Oh, you are going to regret saying that.” A small smile bloomed but faded before reaching its fullness. “What were those things?”

Blowing out a breath, he sat up to sit against the other wall, perpendicular to her.

“Not all of the original test subjects were as successful as you. The original batch of Alphas and Betas were feral, attacked the research team, and escaped.” They had also committed unspeakable acts in the process, but she didn’t need to know that when she had already had a glimpse of it. “Those are their descendants. We call them ferals or nomads because they cycle through different outposts depending on the season. Rooster started calling them nad’s, short for Nasty Ass Dickriders.” The term wasn’t one he’d normally use in front of an Omega, but the crude phrasing startled a chuckle out of her like he’d suspected it would.

“They’re like cavemen, like they devolved?”

“The going theory is that when they were tinkering with the genetic code, they went a little too far back in our evolutionary timeline. The next team thought to get around the intelligence issue by splicing in animal DNA to get the strength and stamina they were looking for,” he explained.

“Wait, you’re saying they killed the first team and then sent another?” Her eyebrows climbed towards her hairline.

“It was merely a ‘setback.’” His lip still curled at the memory of the classified reports he had been privy to as part of his training. While those back on Earth might not want their kind around, they still wanted to experiment with a colony on an exoplanet, just not with “proper humans.” That meant certain information had to be shared or else risk inevitable failure. “The second succeeded, despite another concerted attack from the ferals. They decided it was safe to return because at that point they could argue that we counted as an extra-terrestrial species and thus exempt from the ban on tinkering with human genetics.”

“That’s a twisted sort of logic that sadly makes sense.”

“No one told you?” They had agreed to keep the nads’ existence from her to avoid adding to her stress load, no one suspecting that she would wander beyond the protected core, but he’d assumed that someone would have told her after the incident. Part of him was glad that she had come to him, hoped that she trusted him enough to tell the truth.

“I think Barbie tried, but I really didn’t feel like talking.” She smoothed a pillow and fussed with its placement. “Where do we go from here, Nik?”

He knew what he wanted to do, which was keep her close where he could protect her. What he said was, “What do you want?”

Emma was silent for so long he wasn’t certain she would answer.

“I want to learn to defend myself.”

“We can start this afternoon.” The response didn’t even require thought, it was automatic. Like any Alpha, he wanted to be the one to protect his Omega, but he wasn’t arrogant enough to think that she would stay within a protected bubble anymore. “First, we get some food into you.”

She opened her mouth, most likely to argue, but the rumbling of her stomach interrupted. “Um, would you mind stepping out so I can get dressed?” Instead of pointing out that he’d already seen her in her birthday suit, he slipped out into the hallway and tried not to think of her wearing nothing but his mark.

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lilyvandersteen · 4 years

Text

Out of the Blue: Chapter 8

Cover Art: @redheadgleek

Beta extraordinaire: @hkvoyage

Links: AO3, FF.net

Author’s Note:

Another big confrontation... And this time around, Kurt is in the wrong.

Chapter 8: Wedding Snags

“When those dances were over, she returned to Charlotte Lucas, and was in conversation with her, when she found herself suddenly addressed by Mr. Darcy who took her so much by surprise in his application for her hand, that, without knowing what she did, she accepted him. He walked away again immediately, and she was left to fret over her own want of presence of mind; Charlotte tried to console her:

"I dare say you will find him very agreeable."

"Heaven forbid! THAT would be the greatest misfortune of all! To find a man agreeable whom on is determined to hate! Do not wish me such an evil."”

(An excerpt from Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen)

The preparations for Sam and Mercedes’ wedding brought Kurt back to Ohio several times. While dress-shopping with Mercedes, Kurt bumped into Chandler, who now worked at a bridal store, apparently.

“That’s great, that’s great,” Kurt babbled, not really knowing what to say to a sort of ex-boyfriend, even if they’d never had that official status.

Chandler’s expression darkened into a scowl. “Not really great. But it will do. For now.”

“Of course, of course. It’s good to see you again!”

That brought a smile to Chandler’s face again, and he kept up a steady stream of prattle while he flitted around fetching all sorts of wedding dresses for Mercedes to try on.

He didn’t seem to have a good eye, though. The dresses he chose were all wrong for Mercedes’ body type, and too small as well.

Kurt decided not to put Mercedes through the ordeal of putting on outfits that wouldn’t fit her anyway, and invented an emergency at his father’s shop to be able to leave the store at once.

“Is your father okay?” Mercedes asked.

“He’s fine,” Kurt assured her. “I just wanted to get out of that store. The clerk didn’t have a clue what would look good on you.”

“It seemed like… Was it someone you knew?”

Kurt sighed. “Yes. We dated when I was still in high school.”

“Ooooh! How come you never told me about this boyfriend of yours?”

“We were never boyfriends. We just went on two dates, and it never went anywhere. We got along, but there was no spark, you know?”

Mercedes nodded. “Funny that you’ve run into him again now. Maybe this time around, it will work?”

Kurt shrugged. “I doubt it. His fashion sense leaves much to be desired, and his compliments are rather stale.”

Chandler kept turning up like a bad penny, though. They didn’t go to the dress store again, Kurt having decided to design and make Mercedes’ dress himself, but Chandler was at the bakery they went to for taste-testing, because apparently his parents were celebrating their 25th anniversary and were turning it into a big party. He was at the flower shop they ordered the arrangement for the church in, choosing flowers for his parents’ anniversary bash. He was at the restaurant Mercedes had chosen to cater the wedding reception and dinner, vacillating between the fish or meat option, because his mother preferred the one and his father the other.

Each time, he turned to Kurt to help him choose, smiling at him and praising his taste. Kurt’s answering smiles were a little stiff, and he always excused himself as fast as he could.

The night of the rehearsal dinner, Kurt ran into Chandler again at the restaurant. He wasn’t alone this time. Blaine Anderson was with him, of all people, and seemed to have a hissy fit.

Kurt knew what it felt to be on the receiving end of that, and came to Chandler’s rescue, though he didn’t enjoy the liberties Chandler took as a result – taking his arm and calling him pet names.

He saw that Blaine had wine stains on his clothes, and took that to be the reason for his foul mood, so he explained how to get the stains out and advised Blaine to get on with it before they dried in.

Blaine took that to heart and disappeared at a run.

“Phew,” said Chandler.

“What was he angry about?” Kurt asked.

“Me bumping into him,” Chandler said. “We used to date, you see, and then he got tired of me, and he didn’t just dump me, he got his brother to fire me as well. Blackened my character and everything.”

Kurt’s mouth fell open in shock. “Really?”

Chandler nodded, his face grim. “Really. Can’t get a decent job anywhere because of him. So promise me you’ll never date him, no matter how much money he throws at you. Because when he gets bored, he’ll get rid of you, and you’ll be the one picking up the pieces.”

“I think I can safely promise you that,” Kurt said, his lips a thin line. “The way he treated you was horrible!”

Chandler shrugged. “Karma will bite him in the ass one day. Well, I’ll let you get back to the rehearsal dinner. See you around, sweetie!”

Kurt was halfway back to his table when it occurred to him that Chandler had no way of knowing he was here for Sam and Mercedes’ rehearsal dinner. Unless he had been eavesdropping. That was a bit unsettling. He’d wanted to share his piece of juicy gossip about Blaine Anderson with Mercedes straight away, but now decided to wait until they were alone together.

Mercedes had been planning to spend her last night as an unmarried woman with her parents, but during dinner, Kurt and Rachel had been able to convince her to come to the Hudmel house instead, for a sleepover.

While Kurt braided Rachel’s hair, he told them Chandler’s story.

Mercedes pursed her lips. “Are you sure he told you the truth? I mean, Sam has worked with Blaine several times now, and he says he’s such a nice guy. Works harder than anyone else, fixes any problem in a jiffy, treats everyone the same from the lowest intern to the big boss. Sam hasn’t heard a bad word about him from anyone who works with him.”

“Maybe they don’t dare criticize him,” Kurt suggested. “He’s the big boss’s brother, remember?”

Mercedes shrugged.

Rachel let out a giggle. “You’ve had it out for him ever since his rant at the Brittana wedding. And he APOLOGISED for that.”

“Still a dick move,” Kurt grumbled, but he let it drop.

The morning of the wedding dawned cool but bright, and Kurt hummed as he made some last-minute adjustments to the dress. A plate of no-drip, no-stain snacks stood next to him, and at regular intervals, he fed Mercedes a snack and took one for himself, too.

When he had pronounced the dress perfect, Mercedes’ cousin Alma took over, to do the bride’s and the bridesmaids’ hair and make-up, and Kurt slipped into the garden for fresh flowers. Mercedes’ mother was paying a florist to decorate the church, but Kurt had offered to do the bouquets and the boutonnières.

When he arrived back in the living room with the flowers, Mercedes sat on the sofa, looking at her phone and worrying her lower lip.

“Not having seconds thoughts, are you?” Kurt teased her, but if anything, her frown deepened.

“I’d silenced my phone so as not to be disturbed. And now I’ve just looked at it and my mom called me. Five times. And left voice-mails telling me to call back asap. Which I did, but I can’t reach her. What on earth is the matter?”

Kurt patted her arm. “You let ME worry about it, okay? Turn that frown upside down and think of nothing but marrying Sam. Your mom’s at the church, I take it? Checking the flower arrangements and such? I’ll go there at once and handle whatever snag your mom has hit. I promise.”

Mercedes nodded and smiled hesitantly.

“I’ll do the bouquets and boutonnières,” Carole offered.

“And if necessary, I can take them all to church,” Burt promised. “We still have lots of time to get there anyway. You go and deal with the problem, Kurt.”

That was all the encouragement Kurt needed to hurry to the church, where he found Sam in an old T-shirt and jeans with holes in it, scrubbing a swastika from one of the pews, and a teary Mrs. Jones being comforted by Cooper, of all people. When she told Kurt what had upset her, he blanched. Somehow, in less than 24 hours, all their careful planning had been torn to shreds. There had been a fire at the restaurant where the reception and dinner was to take place, so now they had no food nor venue. The church had been broken into and vandalized. Mercedes’ family and friends were cleaning everything up as best they could, but the flower arrangements were destroyed beyond repair. Mike, the best man, had disappeared, and with him the rings. And in front of the church, instead of well-wishers, there were two dozen bigoted idiots who were protesting against the wedding about to take place, because it was a white man marrying a black woman, and it didn’t do to mix races and sully one’s blood.

Kurt rolled his eyes at that. “That’s bogus. We’re all humans. The same race. Colour has nothing to do with it.”

“Yes, that’s all very well to say, but how do we get them to leave?” Mrs. Jones wailed.

Just then, two buses arrived. Out of them stepped about a dozen men clad in riot gear and armed to the teeth. They started herding the protesters onto the buses, and left with them after just a few minutes.

“That’s one problem sorted,” Cooper said cheerfully. “We’ll fix the rest too, don’t you worry about a thing, Mrs. Jones!”

“Flowers,” Kurt said. “I can do the flowers, no problem. It won’t be as grand as what the florist had planned, but it’ll look great nonetheless, I promise. Sam, Cooper, you’ll help once I get back?”

He didn’t wait for an answer but hurried to his car and headed home, where he assured Mercedes everything was under control, except that there had been a mishap with the flowers, and now they needed more. He stripped the garden of its flowers, put them into a few pails of water and ransacked his sewing supplies for ribbons. He also collected all the vases they had.

When he’d found everything he needed, he raced back to the church, and instructed Sam and Cooper to start tying roses to the pews, which thankfully were too sturdy to have been destroyed. They had been graffitied, but Mercedes’ family and friends had gotten most of it off, and had camouflaged the rest with a shimmery gauzy fabric. Silver. Perfect. Carole’s biggest vase was silver too, and Kurt would be using it to decorate the altar.

He carefully compiled a big bouquet for the altar and a few smaller ones to put in front of the lecterns. Then he inspected the arch at the church entrance. The wooden structure was chipped but still sound. The flowers, however, had been viciously shredded.

“Mrs. Jones, is there any more of that silver fabric? I’d put it over the arch and then pin the rest of my flowers onto it.”

Half an hour later, the church looked splendid again.

“What are we going to do about the best man and the rings, though?” he asked Sam.

“We have a back-up guy,” Sam smiled, “and he found us rings, too.”

Kurt hummed thoughtfully. “That leaves the food and a venue for the reception and the dinner. Where are we going to find that at such short notice?”

Sam clapped Kurt on the back. “No worries, man, the minister offered us the use of his garden, which is huge, apparently, and the whole church community is helping out, bringing chairs and tables and string lights and decorations and food and everything else we need. It’s all going to be all right!”

Kurt let out a deep breath and thanked his lucky stars for close-knit communities saving the day.

When Mercedes entered the church a few hours later, looking beyond gorgeous and glowing with happiness, Kurt wiped away a tear and blew her a kiss as she passed him. As he turned around to face the altar, though, he got a nasty shock. He hadn’t been paying much attention to Sam and his groomsmen, but now he saw that the back-up best man was none other than Blaine Anderson.

What on earth was HE doing here? Yes, Kurt had sent the Anderson brothers an invite, but what on earth did Blaine think he was doing, integrating himself into the wedding party?

Right at that moment, Blaine seemed to feel Kurt’s eyes on him. He looked straight at Kurt, nodded and smiled.

Kurt, still outraged at how Blaine had treated Chandler, shot him a glare and looked away to the minister, boiling inside.

He determinedly did not look Blaine’s way again throughout the ceremony, and hurried out of the church to the minister’s garden as soon as it was over.

As promised, the church community had turned the garden into a festive wonderland, and they’d set up an entire buffet of snacks and salads next to two barbecue grills. The wedding cake had arrived, too, and looked pristine and perfect.

“Dibs on this grill!” said a loud voice behind him, and Kurt shook his head with a grin as he saw Burt accept an apron from one of the women who’d be serving the buffet and inspect the contents of the cooler box.

“No red meat for you, Dad!” Kurt reminded him. “Remember what the doctor said!”

“Spoilsport,” Burt grumbled. “Just a teensy piece? Since this is a festive occasion and all?”

Kurt laughed. “All right, then, a teensy piece. I’ll tell Carole to check if it really is teensy!”

Soon, the party was well on its way. Everyone had enjoyed the impromptu barbecue, and now a band had arrived out of nowhere, and all the invitees were singing along and dancing and having a great time.

At Mercedes’ insistence, Kurt was telling her about all the problems they’d had to solve earlier that day, and she gasped and teared up a little.

Kurt was quick to dab the moisture away, “Your mascara, girl!”, and to comfort her. “Everything has turned out fine, hasn’t it? Thank heavens for your church community. They’ve worked wonders here! And everything else was dealt with satisfactorily. Well, except for Blaine Anderson being Sam’s replacement best man. Really? That rude, obnoxious ass? Don’t know why he’s always in a huff about something and throwing tantrums like a toddler or biting people’s noses off, but I’m far from impressed with his attitude. He needs to GROW UP. And seriously, after all that guy did, couldn’t Sam have chosen someone better?”

Someone cleared their throat behind them. They both turned their heads, and Kurt felt his cheeks heat up when he saw that it was Blaine. Had he heard Kurt bad-mouthing him?

“May I have this dance?” Blaine asked with a little bow, holding out his hand to Kurt expectantly.

Taken off guard, Kurt stammered, “Yeah. Sure.”

It was out before Kurt knew it, and there was no way of taking it back, seeing as Blaine took him firmly by the waist and whirled him away at once, beaming as he did so.

“That was a lovely ceremony, wasn’t it?” Blaine said a little later.

“It was,” Kurt agreed. “I’m not religious, but the minister said a lot of things that resonated with me. Yeah. I liked it.”

Blaine smiled at him again, his expression so disarming and charming that Kurt felt short of breath for a moment and had to remind himself of all the reprehensible things Blaine had done so as not to smile back besottedly.

The song changed, but Blaine showed no intention of letting Kurt go, leading him expertly and catching him any time Kurt stumbled over his own feet.

“Mercedes looks gorgeous in that dress,” Blaine said next. “It suits her so well.”

“Thank you. I made it.”

“Well, you’re an absolute wizard with a needle, then.”

Kurt giggled, and then covered his mouth with his hand in horror. Blaine didn’t seem to have noticed, though. He was looking pensive now.

“Why did you glare at me during the ceremony?”

Kurt’s chin went up. “You don’t deserve to be Sam’s best man.”

Blaine quirked an eyebrow. “Did you want that position?”

“What? No! I just mean, after what you did to Britts and San at their wedding, and after the despicable way you’ve treated Chandler, you don’t deserve to be anywhere near Sam, who is sweetness itself and deserves better than a cold-hearted, mean-spirited guy as his best man.”

Blaine had stopped moving now, and let go of Kurt. “Cold-hearted? Mean-spirited? After how I treated Chandler? Don’t you have that the wrong way round? Don’t you know what he did?”

Kurt scoffed. “What did he do to deserve you destroying his chances of ever finding a job again? Bite your dick while he was sucking it?”

Silence fell. Kurt noticed that people were looking at the both of them, and shifted his shoulders uncomfortably.

Blaine’s face was a cold mask now. “I’ve no idea what lies he told you, but you’re wide off the mark. We had good reasons to fire him.”

“Like what?”

“Like that he tried to kill you!”

Blaine turned around and stalked off, leaving behind a gaping Kurt.

What?!!

#bbb2020 #blaine big bang 2020 #klaine fanfiction #my fic #out of the blue

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the-pancake-writes · 6 years

Text

Snippet: Prince Yugi/bodyguard Atem AU 2 - The Forbidden Little Book

Sequel to “New Year’s Ball”

For a complete overview check the contents page

If you saw this post you already know about this AU of mine. The title basically says it all. Prince Yugi, body guard Atem, forbidden love, drama. ;D

Since the last snippet turned out to be pretty popular I decided to write a sequel. I love this AU, even though I’m still busy with plotting the brothel story. :D Special thanks to my friend @lovecraft-barbie (who is also a duck) for beta reading. Love ya, sweetie. <3

Contains some sexy themes but no sexy actions as of yet lol.

This time: The New Year’s Ball is over and Yugi has to tend to his duties as a prince again. He has to face the possibility of a war, deal with his feelings towards his bodyguard, and also comes upon a book that contains knowledge that is forbidden to a prince…

“My prince? Are you all right?”, Atem said. His gentle baritone voice sent a shiver down Yugi’s spine like it often did. Yugi looked at his bodyguard beside him in the gently rocking carriage.

“Just a little uncomfortable. I don’t like…this sort of thing. And they know”, Yugi said and played with the silvery ribbons that held together his blue, fur-lined cloak.

“Don’t worry, my prince. You’re still their future king and they will honour you as such”, Atem said with a smile that Yugi couldn’t help but return.

The sound of fanfares grew louder until the vehicle came to a halt. Atem checked his sword and pistol before he got off. Even though Yugi couldn’t see it, he knew what was happening. Atem circled the carriage, made sure everything was safe and stopped next to the footman at Yugi’s door. Only once Atem gave the sign, the servant opened it.

A cool breeze blew inside. Yugi took a deep breath, adjusted his cloak and gloves, and stepped outside. Soldiers in blue frock coats lined the path to a big building of grey stone. A small orchestra was playing the national anthem.

A group of high-ranking officials, as Yugi knew by the small medals attached to their uniforms, was waiting for him. Leading them was a tall man with a grey beard and the same gold-brown skin as Atem. He and the others saluted Yugi.

“General Aknamkanon Sennen at your service, your highness. It’s an honour to welcome you at Military Headquarters Alpha 12”, he said.

“Thank you, General.”

“I will show you around”, General Sennen said and gestured at the building behind him. Inside, he walked Yugi past paintings of former officials and introduced him to some of his colleagues. Yugi listened to introductions and shook hands while an assistant of his stood near him and took notes of everything that was being said.

Afterwards, they entered the inner courtyard. A unit of soldiers surrounded them in a square formation, replacing the usual squad of royal guards around Yugi. A few snowflakes were falling and being whirled around by the wind.

They passed soldiers who were training in sword fighting, shooting, and hand-to-hand-combat. General Sennen listed the techniques they were teaching and pointed out the instructors who were serving with their experience. They reached a tower.

“Have you ever witnessed a canon being shot, your highness?”, General Sennen said as they were ascending.

“No, never”, Yugi said a moment before they reached the top. A gust made everyone’s cloaks flap around.

“We would like to change that if we may”, General Sennen said and presented Yugi with one of the engineers who had helped build the canons, of which there were five on the tower. He explained how they worked and gestured at the field before them that was covered in craters from the numerous exercises.

Everyone but the engineer and a few soldiers stepped back. They loaded the canon, accompanied by the engineer yelling commands.

“Fire!”

BOOM.

The ground below them trembled, a cloud of smoke emerged and Yugi stumbled backwards. Almost simultaneously, he was caught and shielded by a blue cape. Yugi looked up at Atem and didn’t know if his knees were wobbly because of the impact or his bodyguard’s beautiful, crimson eyes.

“Is everything all right, my prince?”, he whispered with so much gentility it warmed Yugi from the inside.

“Y-Yes, I’m fine”, Yugi said. Atem loosened his grip and stepped back. Yugi still felt his arm around his shoulders. Oftentimes, Atem was so silent Yugi forgot he was even there. But he was and he was always ready to protect Yugi…

Yugi cleared his throat and looked at the new crater the shot had created. Everyone had a smile on their face and Yugi knew they were waiting for his appreciation.

“Thank you for the demonstration. It was very impressive”, Yugi said politely but lacking the enthusiasm everyone had expected.

After a few more conversations, General Sennen offered to return to the main complex with Yugi. Yugi accepted and a little later, they were once more making their way over the inner courtyard. The soldiers around them were armed with swords and muskets. While Yugi had seen royal guards with weapons all his life he hadn’t quite comprehended that they were designed to take lives, not only defend, until…

“You don’t seem pleased, your highness”, General Sennen said. Yugi gulped. Did this sort of attentiveness run in Atem’s family?

“I know you’re doing excellent work, General. I’m as pleased as a pacifist can be.”

“I understand your concerns, your highness. If it calms you, we’ll be using our equipment and resources to protect Dareia. Not to invade another country”, General Sennen said. “And I’m afraid that not all conflicts can be solved with diplomacy is a fact, even if it’s a sad one.”

Yugi chewed on his bottom lip. He knew he wasn’t here to engage in any discussions. Yet, his thoughts refused to be silent.

“Actually, a few months ago there was a gathering of philosophers at a university in Eurodokia and they came to the conclusion…”

Yugi stopped walking when he felt something different under his boot on the otherwise smooth ground. He looked down and saw a little, blue book under his shoe. Everyone else had frozen and gasped. Even Atem’s eyes had widened.

“Whose is that?!”, General Sennen hissed at the soldiers that surrounded them. He stomped towards a young man with dark, curly hair and a face as red as a strawberry. “Is it yours, cadet?!”

“Y-Yes, General”, he said, too scared to even try to lie.

“You dare carry such filth with you in the presence of the prince?! Apologise!”, General Sennen said.

“I’m deeply sorry, your highness!”, the soldier said and bowed. Everyone looked at Yugi. He had no idea what the little, blue book was about but it seemed to be a bad thing. He crossed his arms.

“I will look over it this once. But this better not happen again”, Yugi said to General Sennen.

“Of course not, your highness”, he said and turned to the soldier. “You better thank the prince for his benevolence!”

“O-Of course. Thank you, your highness”, the soldier said and bowed so deeply his hat almost fell off.

“Now back to the living quarters with you! I will decide on your punishment for disgracing us like this later. Dismissed!”, General Sennen said and the soldier marched away with wooden moves. General Sennen gestured at the building before them and they continued their way towards it. “I cannot apologise enough, your highness. Please believe me when I say that this doesn’t reflect our soldiers’ behaviour at all.”

“I would hope so.”

They walked inside, upstairs, and into the general’s office rooms. One of Yugi’s servants took off his cloak and Yugi handed him his scarf and gloves. Only he, Atem and his father entered the general’s main office. Yugi sat down across from him at his desk while Atem closed the door behind them. He would silently remain in a corner as usual.

On the walls hung different maps, one of them showing the continent and the countries surrounding it. A fire was crackling to Yugi’s left.

“Your highness, feel free to skip the social niceties and get straight to the point of your visit”, General Sennen said with folded hands. Though Yugi had expected it from Atem’s father, he wasn’t used to such directness.

“Thank you”, he said. “Well then…if it comes to a war with Thanos, how long would we last?”

Cold hit Yugi’s core at those words and the fact that he was required to say them. A line had appeared between General Sennen’s furrowed brows.

“In best case: a year. In worst case: six months.”

Yugi gulped. That was the answer he had feared.

“I see.”

“May I ask you: How high are the chances that it’ll come to a war with Thanos?”

Yugi glanced at one of the maps. To the north of the continent lay Thanos, a nation five times bigger than all the countries of the continental alliance combined. He looked back at the general.

While his eyes were brown and not red like Atem’s they shared the same clearness and determination. They were another indicator, beside the family’s history of loyalty to the crown, that Yugi could trust him with the truth.

“I’m afraid it’s a likely possibility”, Yugi said. “My mother, the queen, is corresponding every day with our allies of the continent and overseas. Even with the leader of Thanos, trying to solve the conflict through diplomacy after all. Sadly, that endeavour doesn’t seem to bear fruit.”

General Sennen took a deep breath through his nostrils.

“I’m worried to hear this. I’m sure the queen is doing everything in her power.”

“That she is”, Yugi said. The rings under her eyes and her tired smile were only a few proofs of that. “But there’s still hope. I will soon travel to Kallias and try to convince the empress of aiding us. She has a better relation to Thanos than all countries of the continental alliance. If I can convince her to be on our side, we can still prevent the worst.”

“So nothing is sure as of now?”, General Sennen said.

“Yes. For good and for bad.”

A faint smile played about General Sennen’s lips.

“Thank you for your honest answer, your highness”, he said and turned to a small table behind himself. Yugi’s gaze wandered to the map once more. A group of islands, ranging from tiny to big, to the continent’s south east was labelled Kallias. It’d be a long journey…

“Here are the documents you requested, your highness”, General Sennen said and slid a thick folder to Yugi. General Sennen took a monocle from his breast pocket, placed it between his eyebrow and cheek bone, and began to talk Yugi through the different sections. He explained the factors they had considered and how they played into the calculations. Yugi had to suppress a shudder at seeing so many human lives being treated as mere numbers.

How many soldiers would die? How long would the supplies last? When would the city walls fall? The bad results only tightened the knot in his throat.

“I’m sorry it looks as grim as it does”, the general said when they had gone through everything within almost two hours. He placed the monocle back in his uniform’s pocket and closed his copy of the folder.

“Well, there’s no use in being afraid. Whatever comes, we’ll face it with courage and dignity”, Yugi said. “Please hand the documents to one of my assistants. Is there any other issue that should be brought to my attention?”

“None, your highness. Thank you for your time”, General Sennen said. “But before you leave, may I have a word with the Royal Protector?”

He gestured at Atem who had been standing in a corner all this time. Despite that, he looked as alert as ever.

“You may”, Yugi said. General Sennen rang a small bell on his desk and a moment later a subordinate entered. While General Sennen gave her instructions about the documents, Yugi returned to the room next door. As soon as he entered, his servant brought his cloak, scarf, and gloves. Yugi peeked into the office as he was getting dressed. Atem and his father were standing across from each other.

“I assume you will accompany the prince to Kallias?”, General Sennen said.

“Yes, father.”

“Do you think you’ll visit your mother?”

Atem’s shoulders drooped slightly.

“Yes, I think so”, he said with a sad undertone. General Sennen’s eyes shifted over the floor.

“I know her family takes good care of her grave but please bring her a bouquet of lilies. You know they were her favourites. And tell her…I miss her.”

“I will… I’ll tell her that we both miss her”, Atem said. General Sennen patted Atem’s shoulder.

“I’m proud of you and your services to the prince. And your mother would be too”, he said. Atem smiled.

“Thank you.”

The servants gave Yugi’s coat a quick brush and wiped his boots. A little later, he left the building with General Sennen and Atem at his sides. Again, soldiers lined the path to his carriage. When they had reached it, Yugi turned to General Sennen one last time.

“Thank you for the tour and for aiding us with your knowledge. You proved once again that you provide the country with strong and competent soldiers. Of course the latter is something I’m reminded of every day”, Yugi said and gestured at Atem. General Sennen’s face lightened up. He saluted Yugi and so did his subordinates.

“It’s an honour to serve you, your highness. Have a pleasant journey.”

Yugi entered the vehicle and Atem joined him from the other side. Once more, fanfares played as they started moving. Yugi leaned back and sighed, relieved that the appointment was over.

“You didn’t need to say that to my father”, Atem said and only now Yugi noticed the pink stains on his cheeks.

“The truth needs to be said. I’m very grateful to have you by my side. You’re the reason why I still feel safe despite…everything”, Yugi said. Atem turned to him with his eyes of a red that would warm Yugi in the deepest of snowstorms.

“I will always keep you save, my prince. No matter what happens”, he said and his voice was both as deep as thunder and gentle as velvet. If only it could be the first thing Yugi heard in the morning and the last one he heard at night…

Yugi cleared his throat and watched out of the window. They were passing a small forest of barren trees and a sign that pointed towards the capital where his next appointment would take place. In a small compartment one of his assistants had placed a file that contained the most important facts about that meeting. He took it out and opened it. It was blue, which reminded Yugi of something.

“Atem, the little, blue book that soldier dropped…what was that all about?”

“You don’t know…?”

“No, I bluffed”, Yugi said and scratched his cheek. Atem rubbed his neck.

“It was a convincing bluff then. But of course it’s beneath you to know such things…”

“To know what?”

“Well…these blue, little books…they’re sold everywhere in the capital… They’re really cheap and low-quality…”

“What’s inside?”, Yugi said. Atem played with the small gold medal on his chest. He avoided Yugi’s gaze.

“Well…pornography. It’s really cheap pornography.”

A hot wave of embarrassment swept through Yugi. His eyes widened.

“Oh…! Now I understand why everyone… I feel so silly!”

“But your reaction was appropriate! Everyone knows that nobles and especially royalty are above such…vulgarities…”

“Y-Yes. Of course”, Yugi said and hid his face in his file. But his knees still felt wobbly at the thought of having been so close to a piece of pornography. And those were sold everywhere in the city? It had to be really easy for a commoner to acquire such a thing…

Yugi shook his head. What was he thinking?! He, a prince! It was more than indecent! It was a sin! He took a deep breath and began reading the words in front of him, preparing for the next item on today’s schedule.

~~~

The usual fanfares played when Yugi got out of the carriage. The crowd around him applauded and cheered and Yugi waved at them. A woman in a forest green skirt and grey blouse received him. Her black hair was pinned up and she wore a white lab coat like the six people around her. They all bowed before Yugi.

“Welcome to Red Leaf Hospital, your highness. Your visit is an honour. I’m Doctor Ishtar, chief of medicine”, she said.

“Thank you. I apologise for the tumult my visit is causing. I hope I’m not disturbing anyone’s rest”, Yugi said but Dr Ishtar gave a calm smile.

“Don’t worry, your highness. If anything, the anticipation for your visit has caused more smiles than usual.”

Inside, more beaming faces awaited him. Surrounded by royal guards, Dr Ishtar led him through a few wards into a research area. She explained some theories that had helped them find a cure for certain viruses and would be helpful for potential breakthroughs. Yugi looked through microscopes, watched some experiments and listened to explanations, even though he understood only little of the medical terms.

Everyone he talked to dropped hints about how a separate building for their research would be “most beneficial”. Yugi didn’t decide this sort of thing by himself but after seeing how dedicated and professional the scientists were he was inclined to favour the idea.

As soon as they left the research area Yugi noticed a group of three young women with red scarves among the other onlookers and a few journalists with notepads and pens. The girls squealed, giggled, and pointed at him. Yugi ignored them. He was used to this sort of admiration from women, even though he never boasted about it.

Dr Ishtar was telling him about the history of the wing to their right. They passed another ward and through the glass doors Yugi could look inside. The patients were either sleeping in bed or being examined by doctors and nurses with surgical masks. The patients all had tired looks on their faces and their skin was covered in greenish and yellowish bumps. The sight caused a feeling of nausea in Yugi.

“A highly contagious area. We best keep going, your highness”, Dr Ishtar said. For a moment they walked in silence. “I’m sorry you had to see this.”

“When I walk into a hospital I know I have to expect seeing illness”, Yugi said. He wished he could have done something for these people instead of just walking by. But he also knew that a doctor could do a lot more for them than a prince, no matter how much his visit might boost their spirits.

“The lack of antibiotics is especially harmful in these cases. We ration them already but since we can’t expect new shipments from Thanos any time soon…”, Dr Ishtar said. Yugi’s organs tightened at those words.

“I understand. I, the queen, and everyone in our service are doing what we can to ease the tension between our countries.”

Dr Ishtar stopped and so did her colleagues, Yugi, and the royal guards. They, the onlookers and even the scarf girls were silent for a moment.

“Your highness…do we have to fear a war?”, Dr Ishtar said. The hallway was silent. Yugi saw the fear in the eyes of everyone around him. He knew he couldn’t cause a panic by giving them the same answer as General Sennen. He put on a smile.

“Of course not”, he said. “Yes, there are a couple of disagreements but nothing that can’t be solved through diplomacy. All we need is a little help from the empress of Kallias. And I’m sure you heard that I will journey there soon to take care of the problem.”

All the sighs and little laughs around him were both relief and a stab in the gut for Yugi. Dr Ishtar’s expression softened as well.

“Please know that the people will miss you”, she said and they continued to walk. “If you still have time, may I show you the rest of the hospital grounds?”

Yugi glanced at his assistant behind him. She checked her pocket watch and nodded at Yugi.

“Please do”, he said. They left the building through a set of double doors. A breath of fresh, crisp air filled Yugi’s lungs. The trees, bushes, and flower beds were barren and capped by snow, yet Yugi noticed the creative patterns they were arranged in. In spring the garden had to be full of colour and life.

Only few bushes were blossoming, among them winter roses. The pink petals reminded Yugi of his and Atem’s almost-kiss a few weeks ago at the New Year’s Ball. He rubbed the back of his hand and looked straight forward.

Yugi waved at a nurse and his patient in a wheelchair. They gasped in surprise and returned the gesture. The three girls with red scarves were still following the group as closely as the royal guards let them.

“Do you like cats, your highness?”, Dr Ishtar said as they passed a frozen pond.

“Uhm, yes. Why?”

“We have a cat house over there. Besides being excellent mousers, we found that many patients benefit from their company. So we set up a few rooms for them where people can visit”, Dr Ishtar said.

“That sounds wonderful. I’d love to see it.”

Royal guards secured the little redbrick house and entered it with Yugi, Dr Ishtar, and the others. They reached a hall with tall windows that let the sunshine in. Three shelves contained one cushion per compartment that served as cat beds. On half of them, cats had rolled up or were sleeping. Others were sitting on one of the couches, drinking from bowls or playing with small balls or ribbons. Most of them looked up when the group of people entered, others didn’t care. There was something calm and peaceful about the room that Yugi noticed immediately.

“The ones on the sofas are usually the ones that enjoy attention the most”, Dr Ishtar said as the guards were positioning in each corner, at each window and each door.

“I see”, Yugi said and sat down next to a brown one with black stripes. It gave Yugi a curious look with its green eyes. “Hey there. May I pet you?”

Yugi slipped off his gloves and offered his hand. The cat sniffed it and when it didn’t object, Yugi let a palm run over its soft fur.

“Aww, look at that. The cats love him too! And how couldn’t they?”, one of the scarf girls said and giggled with her friends. Dr Ishtar took seat next to him and a moment later, a fluffy, auburn cat jumped on her lap.

“Seems like you’re pretty popular here”, Yugi said.

“I admit, it’s not only the patients who consider this place relaxing”, she said. For a while they chatted while more cats assembled around them, demanding attention. The green-eyed one soon sat down on Yugi’s lap, purred, and hissed at every cat that came too close.

Some tried to get the royal guards to pet them but they either ignored the cats or gently pushed them away. A few guards kept glancing at them, biting their lips and suppressing the wish to cuddle them. Atem was one of them. A black one nudged his legs over and over and Atem gave a silent sigh of unhappiness.

Yugi knew Atem loved cats. He had owned one as a child in Kallias. It had even been present in one of the family photos Atem had shown him once. If only Yugi could tell him to sit down next to him and enjoy the animals’ company with him. But like so often, they couldn’t be together despite being so close…

Atem stepped in front of one of the scarf girls who was trying to walk past the guards with a small box in her hands.

“Not one step further, miss”, Atem said.

“I…I just have a small gift for the prince.”

“For safety reasons, the prince can’t accept gifts that haven’t been thoroughly checked. We have neither the time nor have we brought the personnel to do so now. So please, step back.”

Her face turned red in anger.

“What’s the big deal?! It’s just a few cookies I made!”

“That could be laced with poison. Miss, these security measures exist for a reason. Please, step back.”

“Listen, I spent all afternoon yesterday-”

“And I don’t care”, Atem said, louder. The other onlookers turned their heads and stopped their conversations. A few royal guards stepped closer in case their assistance became necessary. “As the prince’s Royal Protector I’m responsible for his safety. And if I deem you a risk for that safety I will take measures to remove you from his vicinity. I’m asking you one last time: Please – step – back.”

He didn’t move a muscle. The girl stared at Atem, her nostrils flared. Like most people, she couldn’t counter his dominant presence.

“Fine!”, she said and stomped back to her friends. All three twisted their faces and whispered to each other, yet they were loud enough for people to hear them.

“Why does someone as kind and sweet as the prince have such a horrible person as his bodyguard?!”

“I don’t like him one bit! Why is someone that rude allowed to be near the prince?!”

“I heard his father is a general, so there you go…”

Atem didn’t react and just returned to his spot from before, as did the other guards. But Yugi clenched his teeth in anger. They had no idea how much hard work it had taken Atem to be allowed to become his bodyguard! How hard he worked every day, always alert and ready to save Yugi’s life any second! That he had saved it before he had ever thought about becoming Yugi’s Royal Protector! How dare they say such filthy words about someone who was both so strong and affectionate?!

“Excuse me. I need a breath of fresh air”, Yugi said, placed the green-eyed cat on a cushion beside him and stood up. The girls were still gossiping as he and Atem left the house through a back door. They reached a small backyard, enclosed by a red brick wall.

“Are you all right, my prince? You seem worried”, Atem said. Yugi hugged himself.

“Not worried. Mad”, he said. “They’re the horrible ones! They have no idea what you do for me every day!”

Atem’s eyes widened. He scratched his head.

“You don’t need to be bothered, my prince. They just don’t understand the concept of security.”

“But it does bother me! You’re the kindest and most caring person I know! And they say such things about you…”

Yugi’s cheeks glowed in indignation.

“My prince…I’m touched by your concern but I don’t care what anyone says as long as I can serve you. Besides, scaring people away is part of my duty.”

Yugi chuckled. Warmth radiated from his chest like so often when he and Atem had a moment that only belonged to them.

Clank!

The sound came from around the corner. Atem placed a hand on his sword pummel and gestured Yugi to stay where he was. Atem sneaked around the corner but his posture relaxed.

“It’s just another cat, my prince”, he said. The black one from before appeared around Atem’s legs and meowed.

“Well, go ahead and pet it before it eats us. I know you love cats”, Yugi said. Atem couldn’t suppress a grin.

“Thank you, my prince”, he said and knelt down. The cat closed its eyes as Atem’s hand ran over its head and back. Yugi sat down on a bench and watched how gently Atem chucked the cat under its chin. It purred and Yugi couldn’t blame it. Atem’s touch was always so tender and careful, yet it made one feel so safe…

Yugi’s eyes shifted over the floor. His jaw dropped when he saw something in front of the trash can beside him. It couldn’t be…!

In the snow lay a small, blue book, the same kind the soldier from earlier had dropped! How did it get here? Who had wanted to throw it away? A doctor? A nurse? A patient? Did people really carry this sort of stuff around in a hospital? It didn’t matter!

Yugi looked at Atem whose attention was still directed at the black cat at his feet. His heart was thudding against his chest. An idea came to his mind and he had only seconds to act on it.

He snatched the little book from the ground and stuffed it into his vest pocket under his cloak. A moment later, Atem rose and turned around.

“As cute as the little guy is I don’t want to steal your time”, he said and furrowed his brows. “Are you all right? Your face is all red, my prince.”

“Y-Yes, I’m fine”, Yugi said and took a deep breath to calm himself. But the blood in his veins was still tingling. He stood up and adjusted his clothes, making sure that the book wouldn’t fall out. “Let’s go back inside. I don’t want to keep anyone waiting.”

~~~

“Are you really all right, my prince?”, Atem said. They were sitting next to each other in the carriage.

“Y-Yes. Like I told you”, Yugi said, keeping the trembling in his voice to a minimum. He didn’t understand it himself. Even during heated discussions that took place in public, Yugi always managed to remain calm and rational. But now he couldn’t help but fidget with his gloves and cloak and despite the cold, a few drops of sweat ran over his temple.

Maybe it was because now he was doing something forbidden. He might as well be smuggling a bomb into the palace! It’d be a scandal if anyone found out! Why did Atem have to be so watchful and notice that something was different?! Then again, he couldn’t be mad at Atem for being his usual loving self…

Yugi looked out the window and saw how they were passing the golden gate to the palace. The U-shaped complex had four floors, pale yellow walls and a dark red roof. The carriage came to a halt at the entrance. Again, Atem got out first and when the door to Yugi’s left opened he stepped out as well. Almost done…now he only had to bring his little secret into his rooms and then…

Yugi’s knees wobbled, he tripped but was caught by Atem’s arms. Yugi thought he had a sudden fever.

“Careful”, Atem said and Yugi felt his breath on his face.

“Th-Thank you”, Yugi said and ended the accidental hug. He checked his vest pocket. The book was still there. Phew…! “You’re always so quick. I don’t know how you do it.”

“Nothing a good bodyguard shouldn’t be capable of”, Atem said and adjusted the small medal on his chest. The strong, well-trained chest Yugi had leaned against a few seconds ago… Yugi cleared his throat.

“Thank you for your service. You may retreat for now.”

Atem bowed with a hand on his heart.

“My prince.”

Yugi walked inside and upstairs into his personal wing. Servants opened the door for him and in the first hallway, two maids in grey dresses were already waiting. Yugi raised a hand to keep them at a safe distance.

“Just a moment. I need to take a few notes before I forget”, he said and rushed past them into his study. He closed the door behind himself and leaned against it. His shaky finger pulled the book out if his vest pocket. The thin cover had a few dog-ears and it was a little wet and muddy from the snow it had lain in. But that was nothing that wouldn’t dry.

Yugi gulped. Could he risk it…?

He opened it slightly but shut it a second later. His pulse quickened. He hadn’t seen much, only a drawing of two people, their naked bodies wrapped around each other. It really was…!

He dashed towards his desk and stuffed the book into back of one of the drawers. No one would find it here, right? No servant was allowed to enter unless it was to dust, sweep the floor or bring him a cup of tea. Not even his assistants were allowed to touch anything without his explicit consent. It was safe, it was safe…!

These thoughts calmed him enough to return to the maids. They took off his cloak and Yugi handed them his scarf and gloves.

“Lord Shada is already waiting for you”, one of the maids said. Lord Shada taught Yugi the languages of the continent and the countries beyond. Nowadays they mostly focussed on Kallian in preparation for his mission. Despite its complicated grammar, Yugi had grown to like the language over the years. Time to focus on that!

“Very well. I’ll see him immediately”, he said.

~~~

In the evening, Yugi sat at a round table with his mother, grandfather, Lord Shada, and a few other nobles. Everyone was holding cards in their hands. Some sipped at their wine glasses or nibbled on a pastries. Yugi played his last card and lost. He sighed.

“It’s unlike you to lose that often, Prince Yugi”, his grandfather said three seats away from him.

“I’m afraid the prince has been rather distracted during his lessons as well”, Lord Shada, a bald man with blue eyes and mostly a serious expression, said. Yugi scratched his head. In his thoughts he had been with the little, blue book all day. He had even found excuses to return to his study to make sure it was still there.

“Is something wrong, dear?”, the queen beside Yugi said. He couldn’t look her in the eyes.

“Y-Yes. I guess I just didn’t sleep so well”, he said. If they knew…!

Yugi watched the rest of the game while eating a little raspberry tart. One player after another dropped out until his grandfather won. Finally…!

“Congratulations. Good game”, Yugi said like all the others. He stood up and pushed the chair against the table. “Good night, lords and ladies. Mother.”

Everyone wished him a good night. Yugi left the room. He’d rather go straight to bed and spend time with his secret. But there was one last appointment waiting for him, one that he didn’t want to give up despite his impatience.

He entered the library next door. Atem was sitting on a couch in a corner, surrounded by shelves that reached the roof. Even though he was wearing casual clothes, he stood up and bowed when Yugi approached him.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting. It was a long game. I’m sure you would have enjoyed it too if those matches weren’t exclusively for nobles”, Yugi said.

“I don’t mind. Waiting for you is worth every second, my prince”, Atem said. Yugi’s heart fluttered like a hummingbird. They sat down and Atem picked up the book from the low table in front of them. Tonight it was his turn to read and Yugi would get to listen to Atem’s wonderful, deep voice…

“Last time the two sisters had met in the abandoned castle, right?”, Yugi said.

“Yes, and discussed what to do about that hunter”, Atem said and opened the book. He cleared his throat. “Chapter 8. On the following day…”

Yugi placed his elbow on the arm rest and leaned his cheek against his palm. He didn’t pay much attention to the novel and enjoyed the view on Atem instead. He watched those perfectly shaped lips form words, marvelled at his handsome face, got lost in those eyes of the same colour as roses… If only Yugi could look at him forever… No person at the palace was more attractive than Atem…not only for his outer appearance but also for his loyalty and patience and tenderness… If only Yugi had no other duties and could spend all day with Atem…

The grandfather clock in the corner struck ten and made Yugi flinch. Already?

“What a shame”, Atem said and shut the book.

“Yeah…I’d love to know what happens next”, Yugi lied. “I’ll read the rest of the chapter tomorrow night then.”

Atem left the novel on a window sill. He accompanied Yugi to the door to his chambers, even though his own were in a different part of the palace.

“Good night, my prince. Sleep well”, Atem said.

“You too. And thank you for reading”, Yugi said and for a moment they just smiled at each other. “Good night.”

Once inside his chambers, his servants helped him change into his pyjamas, washed his face and combed his hair. He lay down in bed but he had no intentions of falling asleep yet. He waited until the last servant had retreated and everything was quiet for half an hour.

Yugi got up and put on his slippers and dressing gown. He sneaked through the corridors into his study, conscious of every little sound he made. He took the little blue book out of the drawer, stuffed it into his dressing gown’s pocket, and stole back into his bed room. After closing the door behind himself Yugi took a deep breath.

No one had seen him. Everything was quiet. He was still alone.

He turned the key in the lock and lit a candle on the bedside table. He sat down on the mattress with his legs crossed and pulled out the book. He held it in his trembling hands. By the gods, he really had it! A nervous laugh escaped his throat.

For a moment, Yugi thought about how wrong and sinful his actions were. He was a prince and had the duty to resist the temptations of the flesh! If he just tore it apart and threw it into a fire now, he could still maintain a clear conscience. But instead, he opened the book.

Yugi would almost have dropped it. Eyes wide, his heart thudded against his chest. The picture showed a naked man and woman. She was on all fours while the man was kneeling behind her. The page was titled “position of the week”. “Try it tonight!” and other, more vulgar lines were written around it.

Yugi gulped. So commoners knew different positions…? He had only learned about one when he had been educated on the matter: woman on her back, man on top of her, as little physical contact as possible. Yugi knew he should be disgusted at the thought of humans behaving like animals like this…but he wasn’t. His breath deepened. If there were no expectations for him and his future wife to always remain calm and rational…why not forget about any sophistication for a night and become an animal…?

Yugi leafed through the rest of the book. The drawings were only messy sketches and nothing like a real painting. Many features didn’t even seem anatomically correct. Then again, the buyers of these books probably didn’t care.

Some pages were damaged or missing. There were three sections, one heterosexual and two homosexual but Yugi only cared for the first one. The drawings did it in several positions, some so unexpected it made Yugi’s head dizzy. Some pleasured each other in ways that couldn’t have anything to do with reproduction.

Instructions and tips were written underneath or beside the pictures. They used many words Yugi had never come across and he could only guess what they meant. Was there an entire language dedicated to this sort of thing…?

Heat pooled in Yugi’s nether regions and despite the exhausting day he felt awake. He flinched when he felt his pants shift. He looked down on himself and covered his open mouth.

“Oh no…! Dammit…!”

He was sweating, both in excitement and embarrassment. This had happened regularly a few years back when his body had been in the middle of change from child to grown-up. He had believed this phase was over…! But he hadn’t come upon anything like the little, blue book since then.

He knew what to do now, right? Step outside onto his balcony barefooted, tuck his hands under his arm pits, and endure the cold until it that urge went away. But the book in his hands made the alternative so much more appealing…

He silently asked the gods for forgiveness and felt ashamed for a moment. He then turned to the candle and blew it out, engulfing the room in darkness.

#snippet #prince yugi au #blindshipping fanfiction #puzzleshipping fanfiction #next snippet next month ;d #hope you enjoy this one #my favourite scene is when atem talks to his father about his mom #so much information in so few sentences :)

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stillthewordgirl · 6 years

Text

LOT/CC fic: All Your Dreams Are Strange (Ch. 1 of 4/5)

Earth-2's Mayor Leonard Snart is navigating a post-Zoom world--squabbling with the city council, dealing with his best friend, escaping his security detail--when he meets an intriguing newcomer to Central City. Now, if they can just figure out how to navigate these things together. (Prequel to "Another World, Some Other Time."

I don't know what's gotten into my muse lately. But I'm running with it!

Way back when I started writing fanfic again, one of my first Legends/CC fics was "Another World, Some Other Time," in which Leonard and Sara "meet" their Earth-2 counterparts. Sort of. At random a week or two ago, I started turning around the idea of a prequel, a story about how E-2 Len and Sara met.

This is that story.

Right now, I'm thinking four or five chapters. Many thanks to LarielRomeniel for the beta! Can also be read here at AO3 or here at FF.net.

Leonard Snart has escaped again.

There’s no pursuit and no security outcry, no alarm or notice. Just one mayor, walking quickly down the Main Street sidewalk away from City Hall with a grin of insurrection and smug pleasure in his own cleverness—and the knowledge that his secretary is going to glare at him on Monday, although she probably won’t make him pay in other ways.

Probably.

That’s only fair, really. He’s supposed to keep office hours until 5 p.m. on Fridays, and only his appointment to meet with the new YWCA director was going to get him out of that a little early. Skipping out a little earlier still, while Mariah was occupied with a delivery, will just allow him to ensure that the conservative, anti-meta faction of the city council doesn’t have another chance to beard him in his den before the weekend, making him late for the other appointment and ending a long week on a note that will sour things even more.

He counts that as a win.

Mariah was going to be disapproving anyway, he decides, taking off his suit coat, nodding to a passing older couple he recognizes as local business owners. Not only does she have old-fashioned ideas about how the mayor should require others to come to him instead of going to them, she’s going to be appalled he didn’t take a security detail, or at least someone to take notes.

Now, it might be a breach of protocol to go by himself. Not all that long ago, it could have been a death sentence.

But Zoom is gone, and the fall day is mild and sunny, and he’s made it out of City Hall without saying something he shouldn’t to one of the obstinate council members or anyone else. He’s on his way to a place he recalls fondly, to talk to someone he’s really quite curious to meet, and life…is good.

(A bit lonely, maybe, a tiny voice inside comments, but good. Right?)

Then it gets even better.

“Snart!”

“Oof!” Leonard finds himself lifted off his feet in a bear hug, but although he’s taken by surprise, he knows who this is, knows the voice and the hug and even the faint scent—woodsmoke and spice, an incongruous combination. “You…Mick! Down!” When he’s lowered to the ground and can breathe again, he adjusts his shirt and tie, picks up his fallen jacket and runs a hand over the close-cropped hair that’s nearly incapable of being mussed, giving the other man a glare that would make Mariah proud. “What the...” A glance around. “...hell are you doing back in the city? I thought you were in Gotham.”

His oldest and best friend roars with laughter, unconcerned with his friend’s mayoral dignity. “Meetings with the publisher finished early,” he says cheerfully, clapping Leonard on the back. “So I decided to come home a bit. Maybe do an impromptu signing. Relax, you know? I’m not a workaholic like you.”

Leonard gives that statement the eyeroll it deserves.

What seems long ago now, Leonard Snart and Michael Rory had been challenged to make something of themselves that belied their trouble-prone beginnings. They’d both, independently, gotten in minor trouble with the law and both, independently, been remitted to a program designed to keep young offenders out of juvie. While the program—run through the Central City YWCA—had been designed to help the plethora of fatherless or orphaned boys still affected by the fallout from the War of the Americas, Leonard (whose father had died in the line of duty, technically, as a Central City cop) had been accepted due to a thoughtful judge.

There, he’d met Mick, one of those fatherless boys, and they’d hit it off nearly immediately. Neither of them had had a good relationship with a father society now remembered as a hero (war casualty and cop, respectively) and both were really too smart for their own good, although Mick’s natural inclination was to hide his intelligence and Leonard had a tendency to flaunt his to an occasionally obnoxious extent.

Dr. Diane Carberra, director of the program, had seen something special in them both. Instead of punishing them or scolding them, she’d challenged them—to become the men their fathers hadn’t been, to use that intelligence, to set goals, to make a difference. And they’d responded.

Now, decades later, Leonard was the mayor of Central City, lauded as a hero himself (by some, anyway) for holding things together as much as possible during Zoom’s reign of terror. Mick was one of Central’s most loved native sons, an award-winning and best-selling author known for both his wildly entertaining novels and his detail-filled travelogues.

And they were still best friends.

“What, they let you out without a keeper?” Mick comments, glancing around the city streets as if to pinpoint a member of the security staff or some other sort of handler. “That’s rare, isn’t it?”

Leonard doesn’t dignify that with an answer. “You didn’t say you were going to be back in town,” he merely observes, setting off at a walk again. “I’d have cleared my schedule.”

Mick falls into step beside him. “I gotta a key,” he shrugs. “I can get in the house. But I figured I’d go looking for you.”

Some of the more conservative residents of Central hadn’t been quite sure what to make of a mayoral candidate whose easy acknowledgement of past relationships with men and women meant they were required to look up the word “pansexual.” Then, at least one blogger had tried to make an issue out of the fact the candidate lived with author Michael Rory (at least, when Rory was in town) only to be confounded by the facts that, one, the vast majority of the voting public didn’t care all that much— especially if Leonard was a strong enough leader to hold the city against Zoom—and two, this cohabitation didn’t at all suggest what he thought it did.

Mick might write romance adeptly, but he wasn’t interested in, in his words, “playin’ those damned games” himself, not when it came to romance and not when it came to sex.

They’d found their labels together, back when they were starting college—pan for Len, and aro/ace for Mick—and if some people thought that made them something of an odd pair, well, that was OK. They knew what they were to each other.

“I’m actually heading to the YWCA,” Leonard comments to his friend as they continue. “Going to meet the new director. There should still be familiar faces there, if you want to come with me. Just don’t glower at the new director. She didn’t oust Dr. Carberra, she’s just succeeding her.” He smirks a little at Mick’s noise of annoyance. “Don’t ‘hmph’ about it. Doc deserves her retirement. And last email I got, she’s enjoying California.”

Mick mutters to himself, but shrugs. “I know,” he acknowledges. “I promised to do a signing at the library in her town when the new book comes out. But it don't seem right. She’s part of Central City to me, always will be.”

“I hear you.”

The old brick building, one of the oldest in the city, has been expanded and updated through the years, but it still looks much the same. The security system is much more in-depth than when they were kids, and Leonard buzzes at the door, politely identifying himself and Mick for the receptionist and security and waiting for the double doors to unlock.

“Michael!” The eager call makes them both laugh, and Leonard steps back, grinning, as a small, white-haired shape hurtles (as much as a fairly spry 86-year-old woman can hurtle) toward them. The receptionist…a volunteer since they were teenagers, one who’d decided the two scruffy teens needed some mothering and provided homemade food and occasionally questionable reading material accordingly…latches on to Mick, holding onto his arm and speaking earnestly to him.

“…I loved ‘Playing with Fire,’ it was amazing. And so did my book club! I was wondering, dear, if you might be able to speak again sometime. Oh, yes, hello, Lenny…oh, sorry, Mr. Mayor. Michael, and I know the new one comes out…”

The mayor, hardly difficult to track down in Central City, is relatively ignored in favor of the famous author. Len, grinning at Mick’s patient expression, nods to the amused security guard and strolls down the hallway toward the director’s office, figuring that there’s no reason he can’t just politely introduce himself. No need to stand on ceremony.

Unless this Sara Lance is the sort who stands on ceremony. He hopes not. He’d rather like to hope he can work well with her.

Leonard pauses outside the closed office door, eyeing the shiny new plaque with the new name on it. He studies his suit coat and the dusty marks from where he’d dropped it, then shrugs, leaving it off. And then he reaches up and raps on the door, waiting as the sound echoes.

No answer.

Maybe he should have checked at the front desk. Or maybe wires had been crossed and she had gone to his office? No, someone would have said something. Leonard checks his watch. He’s a few minutes early. He should just wait.

Instead, he does something he knows is foolish. He tries the door handle.

It opens easily, and Len, feeling vaguely sneaky, peers around the side of the door. The office is, indeed, empty of people. The obvious lack of some familiar furnishings—Doc’s big painting of the sunrise over the Central City skyline, the Tardis lamp a much younger Leonard Snart had given her—causes a sudden pang, and he leans in just a little more, thinking about the time he’d spent in this office, and challenges given and accepted.

Then something in the corner catches his eye, intrigues him enough to push the door open and take an illicit step inside.

There’s a training dummy in the corner of the big office, an empty weapons rack on the wall next to it, and mats spread around it. Leonard blinks at it, trying to make his brain catch up to the image.

Doc had been very committed to the philosophy of nonviolence; she and Leonard had talked about it, over tea or coffee in this very office—debated, really, especially when Zoom had been at large and Leonard had been first running for mayor and then serving his first term in office. He hadn’t completely agreed then, and he doesn’t now, but given that he knows Doc had hand-picked her successor, the martial arts equipment is a slight surprise.

“Hello?”

The tone is dry and just loaded with enough question to hold an edge of threat. Len spins, feeling sheepish, ready to offer smooth apologies and explanations, but he freezes when he actually first sets eyes on the new owner of this office, who’d entered through the door at the rear.

Sara Lance is gorgeous.

She’s dressed fairly casually, a black shirt and a sleeveless blue blouse, her blond hair loose around her shoulders. He can see the muscles in her bare arms, testament that the martial arts equipment is, indeed, hers, and her blue eyes are direct, studying him. She holds herself like a dancer, a fighter, balance and strength and grace, and oh hell, is he a sucker for that sort of badassery.

A bit younger than he is, but he’d already known that. Doc had tried to fill him in, but loathe to acknowledge she was leaving, he hadn’t listened much.

Doc is probably laughing her ass off in California right now.

“Hi,” he says after a long moment, one in which he’s aware he’s been staring.

The blond woman’s lips quirk. “Hi,” she returns, leaning against her desk, relaxing just a tad and watching him. “Mayor Snart, I presume? I admit, I wasn’t just expecting you to just saunter in like you own the place.”

Ah, hell. “Yes. I’m sorry, I...ah.” He sighs. “I spent a lot of time here back in the day,” he says, moving closer, meeting her eyes and training to convey sincerity. “Your predecessor was...is...a friend. A mentor.” He pauses. “Actually, she probably saved my life.”

Lance tilts her head, watching him, but her eyes have softened just a little. “She’s spoken of you,” she says. “Dr. Carberra. Said she thinks we’ll work well together.”

Oh, she did, did she? “I’m not usually one for breaking and entering...well, there was no breaking involved, really, but...” He looks around the office. “It’s odd and a little disconcerting to see things looking different.”

Lance nods, accepting that, as he takes in other differences: New books on the shelves, new photos on the desk, the empty spot on the wall where the big skyline painting had hung.

“I’m surprised Barbara didn’t let me know you were here,” she comments, still eyeing him closely.

Oops. “My friend’s distracting her,” he admits. “That wasn’t on purpose. She’d just rather talk books with him than city business with me. And he’s the one who spends a lot of time on the road.”

That gets her attention. “Friend?” she questions. “I’ve read...Michael Rory? I’d like to meet him.”

“I think that can be arranged.” The author is always more interesting than the mayor. “Anyway...let’s start over.” He extends a hand. “Mayor Leonard Snart. Welcome to Central.”

His hasty recovery gets a smile and she lets him get away with it. “Sara Lance,” she returns, giving him a firm handshake. He can feel weapons callouses. “Thank you.” She gestures to one of the overstuffed chairs off to the side, not the more formal ones around the desk. “These are more comfortable...”

“I know them well.”

Once they’re settled, Sara with the iced coffee she’d left the room to get, Len with a bottle of water, they regard each other again.

“So,” he says finally, “breaking and entering notwithstanding, I just wanted to introduce myself, to tell you welcome, and to see what you might have in mind for your tenure here.” He shrugs a little. “Doc...Dr. Carrera was always very involved with the community, and she was here a long time in one capacity or another. And now that things are starting to get back to normal after...after Zoom...we’re starting to find our feet again. It’s an interesting time.”

Lance acknowledges that with a tip of her head. “Zoom,” she muses, staring into her coffee. “I’ve read...that must have been...yes. Interesting.”

There are other words for it. Leonard lets his eyes focus on the spines of the books on the shelf behind her, the titles blurring. So many people had just left the city, but he’d stayed, determined to do something. And then, elected to office, walking the line, protecting his city and keeping himself alive and his people safe without bowing down to the meta any more than he had to...

There’d been days he couldn’t imagine a life without that tightrope walk. It’s still a shock, sometimes, the absence of that tension. Compared to that, city politics are a piece of cake.

Sara takes a sip of her drink, and Len blinks, aware suddenly of how long he’s been silent. He takes a swig of his water, mustering his thoughts.

“Yes,” he says finally. “They say there’s a lot of PTSD being diagnosed in the city now, and I get that. But we made it through. We have a meta protector now, a speedster, and we have...resources. We can come back.” He darts a glance at her, deciding not to go into the meta question for now. “So, you’re from Star City, originally?”

Sara’s eyes are on his, and he thinks for a moment that she won’t let him change the subject. But then she nods.

“I grew up in Star City. My mother still lives there,” she says, then pauses, as if considering something, then nods to herself.

“My father died in an accident when I was 11,” Sara continues, nodding again as she sees him register that she’s willing to get a bit personal. “My older sister, who’d always been the disciplined one...she promptly went off the rails.” She glances away; the subject is obviously difficult for her. “Made it through high school, then vanished. We haven’t seen her in years now.” She shakes her head as Leonard tries to figure out what to say. “I guess I tried to compensate—I’d been the wild one before that—and I wanted to work with women in crisis.”

“Understandable,” he murmurs thoughtfully, and gets a small smile in return before she continues.

“I had my bachelor’s degree three years out of high school, went on for a master’s in social work. During that time, I started working in National City, at a women’s shelter, then moved back to Star for a year. I met Dr. Carberra when she visited, and she encouraged me to apply for this job when she decided to retire.” She spreads her hands out. “And that’s me.”

Leonard lifts an eyebrow at her, then turns his head to glance over at the training dummy and weapons rack. Lance follows his gaze, then laughs.

“And, yes, I’m a black belt, in a few disciplines,” she allows, grinning at him and getting an answering smirk in return. “I like the activity, and I’ve found teaching classes to women gives them a feeling of...of control, not necessarily in a self-defense way—although sometimes that—but simply in having control over an aspect of their lives.” She shrugs and smirks a little. “And it occurred to me that, in the never-ending battle to be taken seriously as a woman, the clear signs of weapons proficiency couldn’t hurt.”

Leonard can’t help himself; he snorts in amusement, liking Sara Lance a good deal. “I can’t argue with that,” he agrees. “Maybe I should borrow something, have an unsheathed sword lying on my desk next time I squabble with the council.”

“You’d be welcome to,” she tells him solemnly, then smiles again. “And you? I know the basics. But most of the articles I’ve seen are more about city business than anything…” A pause, and a shrug. “Personal.”

He’s not deluding himself, is he, that there are sparks here, or at the very least, interest that’s more than polite? Len doesn’t think so. Well…he won’t overstep, but he’d like to see if he’s correct.

“My dad was a cop,” he tells her slowly, shifting in his seat, trying to feel his way through this story he’s rarely told anyone, wondering why he wants to tell her. “He died on the job when I was 8.”

She murmurs condolences, but he’s already waving them off. “Of course, he’d been an abusive jerk to me, my mom, and my baby sister,” he said drily, “so it was kind of hard to take when people started lauding him as a hero. My mom kind of checked out and then got sick; I was caring for Lisa; I was angry and desperate. I might have gone down a different road, but...” He looks around the office, knowing his thoughts are pretty clear on his face, then back at her.

There’s understanding there, a degree of understanding he thinks he’s seen in few others. She nods, conveying that, and Leonard continues.

“I know there’s been criticism of the programs here that deal with men and boys, given that the stated mission is to protect and uplift women,” he says quietly. “But…they broke the cycle, with me. And with Mick, too.” He shrugs, then moves on.

“I went through Quad-C—Central City Community College—then transferred to the university. Then I went to law school. Passed the bar, then practiced here a while, dealing with kids like the one I could’ve been. And then…”

“Zoom.”

“Yeah.” He frowns. “No one wanted the job, with all the violence and the deaths…the only one who steps up to run was an...” He catches himself. Don’t swear in front of the lady, Leonard, at least not until you know her better. “…a bit… unprincipled. So I did it. And I won.”

Lance regards him a moment, then nods. “And the rest is history?” she says with a smile.

“As they say.”

They watch each other, both smiling a little, then Len turns his head with a sigh as he hears Mick’s bellow of laugh coming closer, knowing that their time here alone is coming to an end. Lance seems to get it, nodding again as she gets to her feet.

“I think we will work well together, Mr. Mayor,” she says, a sparkle in her eyes, holding out her hand again. “And I look forward to it.”

“So do I.” Leonard is carefully not to hold on to her hand any longer than necessary. He finds himself loathe to leave, wondering what this intriguing woman thinks of the meta programs he’s been responsible for, the safehouses for LGBTQ+ teens he’s been fighting for, the…

He lets go, wondering if he’s imagining reluctance in her own demeanor, then turns for the door…

And for once, he gives in to impulse.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asks suddenly, turning back. “Sometime? Coffee? Get off on a better foot, without the, ah, breaking into your office? Show you a bit of the city?”

You’re babbling, Snart.

Lance looks momentarily surprised—but then, yes, pleased, he thinks. Oh, thank god, maybe he hasn’t screwed this up.

“I’d like that,” she says simply. “I’m busy tomorrow, but…Sunday? Maybe late morning? It looks like It's supposed to be a lovely day.”

Leonard nods, feeling oddly like the teenager he’d been here, long ago. “How’s 11 a.m.? I’ll meet you at the CC Jitters by the waterfront?”

“The one near the sculpture park?”

“The same.”

“You’re on.”

Yes, that’s definitely a spark in her eyes. He grins at her. “Again, pleased to meet you, Director Lance.”

“The same, Mayor Snart.”

#all your dreams are strange #captain canary #legends of tomorrow #sara lance #leonard snart

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