#I’m approaching the 24th hour of awakeness

[princessbrunette]

kinktober : oct 24th

leon kennedy x consensual somnophilia

it was never something leon would have ever considered.

sex was always something leon would do with you, not to you — and he wanted it that way. he loved making you beg for it, loved watching your reactions, loved watching you start off shy and end up a mouthy mess, barely making any sense. it was part of the fun.

he’d been coming home late as of recently, either called out onto some kind of ridiculous mission, or stacked high with paperwork that kept him back after hours working overtime. he was making great money, you couldn’t complain — leon using his overtime earnings to spoil you like you deserved, but it was stealing the most valuable thing of all from you, and that was him.

you were needy, needed his physical affection, his cock bruising your insides and strong arms wrapped around you grounding you — reminding you that he was here, and yours, and safe. it just wasn’t possible lately, only seeing him in the mornings before he’d leave. you tried really hard to stay awake when he’d get home, yawning and rubbing your eyes as you’d text him and tell him— but you’d usually get hit with the ‘You need your rest, baby. Go to sleep.’ text response and who are you to argue? you couldn’t if you tried, often falling asleep with the lamp on, sprawled atop the sheets. his tired frame would find you like that when he returns home, shaking his head with a tired chuckle and tucking you in. leon looks after you like that.

you’d awoken with a plan, waking up earlier than leon’s alarm and padding into the kitchen to make him breakfast before he leaves— making his morning easier by laying out his clothes, his badge, his wallet — really playing at housewife, which you both enjoyed.

he was smiling sleepily when he found you in the kitchen, serving up his food to go so that he wasn’t late.

“whats all this, hm?” he smirks as he approaches you, pulling you toward him by the hips and pressing a grateful kiss to the centre of your forehead.

“just wanna treat you right, i know you’re working hard and you’re tired… i miss you though.” you exhale slowly, still sleepy yourself as you burrow your cheek to his chest. his heart pangs a little at your sad tone, stroking down the back of your dishevelled head.

“i know, sweetheart. i’m sorry i’ve been so busy, works been hectic lately but things should be clearing up soon. then i can take some time off, spend time with my number one.” his sympathetic tone fades to a grin, running a thumb over your cheek when you smile with him.

“‘kay.” you seem satisfied, walking him to the door, watching him pull his fur lined jacket on to protect him from the chilly winter weather outside. the jacket makes him seem even bigger than he is, which makes you bite back a needy giggle as you hand him his brown paper bag with his breakfast inside.

“alright, baby. thanks for the food. i’ll be back later.” he pinches your chin affectionately. “wheres my kiss?” he tilts his head a little with a playful smirk, and you don’t wait another second before standing on your tiptoes and planting a kiss to his lips, savouring the feeling knowing you’ll miss him all day. it was then time to propose your plan.

you pull back, and he goes to step away but you speak, as casually as possible.

“oh, and leon. if you come home and you need me, you can use me whilst i sleep if you’d like. i don’t wear panties to bed.” you smile innocently, before pulling back fully. “see you later!” you usher him out as he stares back in shock, not giving him time to respond. you all but kick him out as you giggle, going about your day.

he’d thought about it a lot that day.

he couldn’t do that to you, right? use you whilst you slept. it was… degrading. inherently wrong. his sweet girl, unaware of his touch. and yet, you were so willing, the look in your eyes when you’d permit him access to you whilst you slept haunted him all day. you’d tried to play it cool, but leon knew you too well — knew that needy, neglected look in your eyes. you were practically begging to be touched. had it really been that long?

he’d arrived home late as usual, and by the time he did, with all the work that had been lumped onto him he’d pretty much forgotten momentarily about that morning, that was until he entered the bedroom.

it’s like you’d set the scene perfectly for him.

he puffs out his cheeks a little as he exhales, running hands over his cheeks like he was trying to wipe off water. you were there, fast asleep on the bed wearing just his t-shirt. the blankets had been kicked down to just cover one foot, bunching up on your other side — and your leg was cocked up as you lay on your stomach. he creeps further into the room, sighing at how beautiful you looked illuminated only by the bright moonlight. his tshirt had ridden up, revealing your plump ass and glistening wet cunt in the low light. poor thing, he thinks — you’d gone to bed all needy.

he’s surprised the sound of his belt clinking as he undoes it doesn’t wake you, usually having a rather pavlovian effect on you to make you salivate whenever you hear it. he still feels slightly guilty despite the clear permission you’d given ringing bright and new in his memory. there was nothing wrong with just getting comfy and laying beside his girl, right?

he wedges himself gently behind you, still wearing his clothes, and in your sleep you habitually shuffle up closer to him, pressing your bare ass against his cock. he winces, hand coming up to caress the skin there. “fuck.” he murmurs, cock hard in his jeans.

maybe he could just jerk himself off, right here beside you. that wasn’t so bad, right? he pulls his pants and boxers down to his knees and quickly gets to work, the other hand carefully pinching the material of his tshirt and lifting it slowly to reveal more skin to him. he inhales, jaw slacking a little at the sight of your curves as he touches himself— and he feels himself getting more desperate. what’s the harm in playing with you just a little?

he slows his movements on his own cock, bringing his hand slowly to your ass again, rubbing soothing circles on the skin. his hand creeps from there to between your legs, his fingers experimentally swiping through your soaked folds. you must’ve prepared yourself before you slept. a wave of heat rushed through him as he wondered if you went to bed this wet every night since he’d been working so much and not pleasing you. without thought his fingers slide up to your clit, giving it a few affectionate rubs like he usually would. you whine sleepily and he shushes you.

“it’s okay baby, it’s me.”

you don’t seem to stir, and his blood is fucking pumping. he leans over you, using his strong arm to hold himself up and swipes his tip through your folds, coating himself in your slick. “so god damn wet.” he hisses, brows knitting. he gets himself into a comfortable position before pushing himself a little just past the tip.

you cry out a little into the pillow, and he hears himself shushing you again. “i know sweet girl, just me.” he sighs, pressing his forehead against your back.

he keeps you like that for a while, arm trembling a little whilst he holds himself up. you just feel so good, swallowing half of him — and he realises just how pent up he’s been since he’d been working overtime. he slowly bottoms out, letting out the most pornographic yet quiet moan, perfectly forming an ‘ugh’ sound in the air as you squeeze around him. he starts to grind in and out of you, and only then you stir — always the heavy sleeper.

you let out a disorientated yet pleased whine, clenching down hard as your consciousness comes to the surface. leon, mounting you still, wraps one thick arm beneath your stomach, effortlessly holding you to him as if you were a pillow or a stuffed animal — the other thick forearm wedged itself beneath you to work at your clit, light but slightly frenzied circles pressed against it. you let out a sleepy sob, drool painting your chin as your noises come out muffled to the pillow.

“you’re okay, pretty girl. s’just me remember. fuck. you still sure you want me up in here?” you feel his clothed stomach against your back.

“mhm!” you rasp, barely awake just drifting in and out of what felt like a perfect wet dream.

soon you’re clenching down hard again, almost trapping his movement. he lets you hump your clit on the heel of his hand as he tried his hardest to look round at you from his position. “you wanna cum on it, baby? yeah?” he cooes, slightly whiny and high pitched signalling he wasn’t far behind you. “such a good girl giving yourself to me like this. gonna treat you all fuckin’ night, make up for lost time.” he really is whining now, the soft sounds of his pelvis clapping against your ass filling the room.

you snuggle against him as best as you can, eyes squeezing shut as you feel yourself waking up properly to a hearty orgasm on your boyfriends thick cock.

but leon wasn’t done yet. needless to say, he was tired at work the next day.

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman-Part 59

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe : Military School

Words : 7k

Masterlist

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Wednesday, February 24th; 8:30 AM - Lucy's Apartment.

I groaned as the alarm echoed through the room. It’s way too early, especially considering how late we got home last night. I buried my head in the pillow, while my wonderful girlfriend chuckled. Unsurprisingly, when I turned to face her, she was already fully awake.

"Do you think this is funny?" I mumbled.

"A little bit," she teased. "Good morning..."

I smiled as she leaned in to kiss me. I love our morning kiss, even though it’s not the best one of the day. A slight headache began to take hold. It wasn’t the most pleasant wake-up, though far from the worst.

"What do you want for breakfast?" she asked, getting out of bed.

"Stay," I groaned.

"As much as I’d like to, we have to pick up your little brother in an hour," she said, changing from shorts into a new pair of joggers. "We shouldn’t be late, right? You only have yourself to blame for wanting to stay up so late."

"At least I didn’t drink until I was wasted," I teased, hugging the pillow closer.

"You’d better not have. I would’ve made you sleep on the couch if you had."

"I don’t believe you," I teased again.

"You should. I would’ve done it without any guilt."

I stuck out my tongue at her, which only made her smile smugly. She came back over to give me another quick kiss.

"Don’t take too long, okay?"

"I’ll try my best... Can you make me some toast this morning?"

"Of course."

We exchanged smiles before she left the room. I love our life together. It feels like we’ve been living together for years. Everything is so ordinary, far from anything that could bother us. I stretched out once more before lying on my back. Today is going to be long and busy, but so perfect. Our little bubble will be interrupted with Joan’s arrival, but I’m excited to see him again. I forced myself out of bed and, unlike Lucy, didn’t change before joining her. I smiled when I saw her making the toast I’d asked for.

"I expected you to join me much later."

"I had a good teacher for getting out of bed."

"Oh, please. I only threw you out of bed once," she teased.

"After throwing a glass of water on me, if I remember correctly. The other times, you made me run outside. I’m not sure which was worse."

She laughed heartily as I joined her in setting the table. I didn’t find it funny at all. I went through a lot because of her. There’s a reason I didn’t like her at first, now that she reminded me.

"Stop laughing."

"Oh, come on. Admit it, it was funny."

"No, it wasn’t," I pouted. "You really pushed me to the limit."

"Those are good memories. I can’t wait to tell our grandkids about our first meeting someday."

"Of course," I giggled. "Let’s focus on having kids first, before thinking about grandkids."

"You’re right. We’ll get there one day."

"Mm-hmm."

I approached her and hugged her from behind. She leaned back against me, and I took the opportunity to kiss her shoulder. I slowly moved up to her neck, lightly biting a few spots without leaving any marks. Mine had finally faded, and I was glad about that. Knowing Joan, he would’ve asked what it was, and I wouldn’t have known how to explain it to him at his age.

"Thanks for agreeing to have my brother over for a few days."

"It’s no problem. I was surprised your mom let him come alone, though," she admitted.

"Me too... It seems the airport reassured her by saying he’d be accompanied the whole time. Plus, she knows how attentive I am with him, so nothing can really happen to him with us. And, I feel like she trusts you more than she trusts me," I chuckled.

"She shouldn’t, though. You’re way better with kids than I am."

"Nonsense. You work with teens all day."

"They’re students, which means they’re almost adults. It’s not the same at all."

"Well, let me tell you, we’re way worse than innocent kids."

"That’s debatable. I’ve always found kids to be quite devious... Though Joan isn’t like that, thankfully."

I giggled at her thinking. She must not have been around many good kids. I let go of her waist when I saw she was finishing up the toast. I quickly poured her coffee and heated up my hot chocolate. Then I joined her at the table, where she had brought all sorts of toppings.

"So, you don’t like kids, huh?" I asked as I began my breakfast.

"I didn’t say that," she rolled her eyes. "I don’t like spoiled, badly-behaved kids. That’s all."

"Or cheeky ones, huh?" I teased.

She laughed, knowing full well that I was referring to myself. She used to say that about me, and it wasn’t in a pleasant tone.

"Or cheeky ones, indeed. But they can be redeemed after a few laps around the track."

"Ha ha ha!"

"Isn’t it true?"

"Maybe. But I wasn’t cheeky."

"Oh yes, you were," she teased. "You had a comeback for everything I said."

"Well, you were really hard on me. I mean, you were very direct with me... And I hated it. That’s why I didn’t like you at first."

"You didn’t like me because I dared to tell you things to your face, and that’s exactly what you needed, right? You needed someone like me to help you understand and make an impact on you."

"You’re probably right... Your words made me think a lot at the beginning. I felt like crap," I admitted shyly.

"That was kind of the goal... At least, by insisting and being so harsh with my words, I wanted you to realize who you had become. It was obvious you weren’t a bad person. Circumstances made you that way."

I smiled softly at her, nodding. I love when Lucy shares her thoughts with me. She’s so good at reading people, a quality few possess. I, for example, don’t have it. I couldn’t tell who has a good or bad heart. At first, I saw the good in everyone, but since Feli, that’s changed.

"Do you think everyone has a good side?" I asked thoughtfully.

"I think everyone has both good and bad sides. It’s just that one tends to come out more than the other at certain times."

"Yeah, okay. But do you think someone can become good again after being bad? Like Korbin, for example."

She seemed to think for a moment, dipping her toast in her coffee before taking a bite. She took her time chewing and swallowing before replying.

"Well... It’s hard to say with that example. Korbin grew up in a tough environment. The people you saw in Wiegman’s office last time weren’t her real parents, but her foster family. Some people don’t have a choice about who they become. Even though she was taken out of her old neighborhood, I can guarantee that once she feels ready, she’ll go back there."

"You think so?" I asked, surprised. « Why? »

- Because that's what her parents decided. In neighborhoods like that, families have reputations to uphold. If she doesn't go back, she'll be shunned for the rest of her life and disowned by her family.

- That's really not cool, I grimaced.

- That's life... Not everyone has a choice, she replied with a shrug.

- Is that what she told you?

- Yeah. You weren't my only student, you know.

- Really? I thought I was the only one, I admitted.

- No, she shook her head. You weren't the only one, but you were definitely the most important. Wiegman wanted me to focus on you. To do that, she let some go early and reassigned others to Ingrid.

- Oh... What about Korbin?

- Wiegman let her go early. The more I think about it, I believe she took it out on you to get back at me. She must have felt betrayed and abandoned since I was the first person she ever opened up to.

All the hatred I had for her almost turns into pity now. Even though her actions are unforgivable, I can understand them. I would have reacted the same way if I were in her shoes. What I don’t understand is why Lucy was so adamant about her leaving Camp Wiegman, even though she knew about her issues.

- Why did you insist on having her leave Camp Wiegman if you thought she still needed help?

- As I just told you, some people don’t have a choice and decide they don’t want to be saved. That was Korbin’s case. Unlike you, she didn’t want to be saved because she already knew her future. I can guarantee she’ll be on the wrong side her whole life, and keeping her at school would have put you in danger.

- Y-you wanted her gone to protect me?

- Of course, she replied as if it was obvious. You specifically, but also all the other students. Her group of friends will have you in their sights for a while since you got their leader expelled. But don’t worry. You don’t have anything to fear. You’ll be watched, just like them.

- What do you mean, watched? I asked, frowning.

- The entire teaching staff and the instructors are aware. They won’t let anything happen, trust me, they know.

- OK... I murmured. Why are they even here if they’re so dangerous?

- Everyone deserves a chance, right? she smiled. Some of them won’t follow Korbin’s path. Take Athenea, for example. Ingrid was in charge of her, and she plans to continue her studies after school.

- Really? I was surprised. She doesn’t seem very smart... I said without thinking.

Lucy laughed and shook her head.

- Believe me, she’s smarter than she seems. She wasn’t just the little girl following Korbin around. If she let people think that, it was to get Korbin’s protection within their group. I wonder how things will go for her now that Korbin is gone.

- People are really crazy, I sighed.

- Oh yes, she giggled. More than you think. Well, I’m going to take a shower. Can you clean up in the meantime?

- Yeah, but I need to shower too, so hurry up.

- Then go first. You take longer than I do.

- Hey!

- What? It’s the truth, she teased as she headed to the kitchen.

I stuck out my tongue at her while bringing my cup and some topping jars like Nutella and jam to the kitchen.

- That’s mean, I commented.

- Oh, please. It’s not the worst thing I’ve said to you, she laughed.

I was about to pretend to sulk, but she pulled me back and held me firmly against her. Her lips quickly found their way to my neck, which I instinctively tucked in.

- Sorry. I take it back, she said with a hint of amusement.

- You’re only saying that so I’ll stop sulking.

- Is it working?

- You wish, you fool.

She laughed, turning me around so we could face each other. She kissed me so intensely that I stepped back until I felt the countertop against my lower back. I was about to go in for another kiss when we barely separated to breathe, but she gently pulled away.

- Shower, she reminded me with one word.

I groaned in frustration, knowing she was right. We can easily get lost in the moment, and now is not the time given our schedule. Still, I gave her one last kiss before heading to the bathroom. I can’t wait to hug my little brother.

Wednesday, February 24; 10:30 AM - Manchester Airport

My foot bounces in rhythm with the seconds as I watch the display board counting down the minutes until the plane lands. The wait is so stressful for me, and apparently for Lucy too, who finally places her hand on my knee.

- Stop that, she grumbled.

- It’s taking forever!

- Fidgeting won’t make the wait any shorter. It’ll just annoy me.

She raised an eyebrow in a threatening way. I bit my lip and stopped moving my foot. I don’t like it when she looks at me like that, even if I deserve it. She let out a sigh of relief and turned her attention back to her phone. I looked back at the display board to see how much time had passed. Fifteen minutes. I’m definitely going to die before it reaches zero. My excitement is at its peak. I’ve missed Joan so much. I hope his flight went well since he was traveling alone. A flight attendant was supposed to accompany him from the beginning to the end of the boarding process, so everything should have gone smoothly. However, I’m not sure if it’s Shay.

- The girls are asking if we want to have dinner together tonight, Lucy announced, snapping me out of my daydream. Is that okay with you?

- Yeah, of course. Joan will be happy to see them again. We could also invite Alexia and Jenni. I know Ale has always wanted to meet him, so this would be a good opportunity. But I’d avoid inviting the other girls. They might scare him, I giggled.

- Okay. I’ll suggest they come to our place then. It’ll be more relaxed.

- Do you have enough to cook?

- If not, we’ll go grocery shopping or order pizzas. I don’t have to ask if Joan likes them, do I?

- He loves them, I said with a smile. But we already had some this weekend.

- That’s true... We could order Chinese instead?

- Owh. I’m not sure he’d like that. Oh, what if we made crepes? That’s a good idea, right?

- We could, but I thought you wanted to take Joan around the city? We won’t have time to do both.

- That’s true... But it’s not like he’s going to be interested in the city’s architecture at his age. A cooking session would be more fun for him, I think.

- Okay, we’ll go shopping then. Crepes it is?

- Yep. We’ll save your pizzas for next time.

- Alright, she teased softly. We’ll do that next time. I know how much you love them.

I smiled and nodded as she ran her hand through my hair, gently stroking it.

- A lot. If it were up to me, we’d have them again tonight, I confessed.

- You know, you can have them whenever you want now.

- I know, I sighed. That’s why I’m not pushing it. It wouldn’t be reasonable.

- Since when are you reasonable?

- Hey! I protested.

- What? she smiled mischievously. Want to know something? I’ve always loved your innocence.

- Really? I’ve never claimed to be an adult.

- Oh, I know that. Well, your innocence is part of why I love you.

The spontaneity of her words always gets to me. Plus, she continued to stroke my hair as if nothing had happened. Eventually, she stopped and kissed the corner of my mouth before getting up.

- Now that I’ve kept your mind occupied, it’s time to welcome your brother, right?

I looked up at the screen to see, to my surprise, that there were only two minutes left. I quickly stood up. My girlfriend pulled me close, wrapping her arm around my shoulders, and kissed my temple. Instinctively, I wrapped my arm around her lower back.

- Does that amuse you? I murmured into her neck when I heard her chuckle.

- A little. You’re very impatient, but so easy to distract.

- You knew the whole time, didn’t you? About tonight?

- Since we left the house. I said yes and already invited Jenni and Alexia.

Since my head was still nestled in her neck, I smiled freely. I can’t tell if I appreciate or dislike that she always knows what I want in advance. Since it wasn’t the time to debate it, I simply lifted my head from her neck.

- And you’re way too organized and decisive.

- Decisive, really? she laughed. I always gave you a choice.

- At school, you would always let me choose between two options, knowing full well which one I would pick.

"Well, it's true that I didn't give you much choice back there," she chuckles. "But it was for your own good."

I would have replied, but my attention is drawn to the people disembarking from the flight we've been waiting for. I step away from Lucy and move as close as possible to the others. Lucy quickly follows, keeping her hand on my back. I'm scanning for Joan, but I don't see anyone yet. I start to feel impatient as I realize we're nearing the end. Finally, I spot him holding the hand of a flight attendant. I smile, recognizing Shay. The message seems to have been passed along, which eases my mind. At least I know he was well taken care of and likely had a good flight. Shay looks surprised when my brother points me out to her, and he tries to break free to run to us, but Shay keeps hold of him. She only lets go when they're about a meter away, allowing my brother to run toward me. I kneel down to catch him and lift him into my arms, letting him hug me tightly.

"Ona!"

"Hey, sweetheart. Did you have a good flight?"

"Yeah, but it was long!"

"Oh, I bet it was," I chuckle. "Hey," I say, addressing Shay as she approaches, "were you the one looking after him?"

"Yes, I was asked to specifically, but now that I see you, I understand why."

I smile softly, glancing at Lucy, who has been quietly standing behind me this whole time, tracing patterns on my back with her fingers. I remember she talked to my mom about this just yesterday, ensuring Joan would have someone for the flight. For some reason, my mom insisted on having Lucy's contact information. Given what happened last time she found me, I guess it makes sense. Now she wants to be informed if anything unusual happens. I think it was just an excuse, but Lucy didn't mind, so I didn't argue. It’s strange knowing they’re in touch, but at least I know Lucy gets along well with my family. She’s even won over my brother, who is now asking to be held by my girlfriend. Lucy doesn’t hesitate to pick him up. The sight of them together warms my heart.

"Thank you," I say sincerely to Shay. "So, everything went well?"

"Yes, yes. He got very impatient toward the end, but overall, it went smoothly. Is he family?"

"He's my little brother," I reply. "Thanks for taking care of him."

"No problem, it’s my job. He was adorable. When’s his return flight?"

"Saturday at two o’clock."

"I’ll be on that flight too, so I can make sure he’s okay."

"My best friend will be with him, but it’s great to know. Thanks."

"It’s no trouble. Well, have a great weekend."

"Thanks, you too."

I turn back to the two most precious people in my life as Shay leaves. Joan is now on the ground, firmly holding my girlfriend’s hand.

"Are we going, Ona?" he asks, reaching out her other hand to me.

"Let’s go," I confirm. "We’ll just grab your suitcase first, and then we can finally enjoy ourselves."

With a big smile and a full heart, the three of us walk through the airport. I’m so happy to have Joan with us. These three days with them are going to be amazing. My mom couldn’t have given me a better gift.

Wednesday, February 24; 11:30 AM - Supermarket

"Is this good, Ona?" he asks, showing me a pack of gruyère cheese.

"Yep. You can put it in here," I say, handing him the basket. "Okay, let’s go find Lucy now."

After our little battle earlier over crepes, here we are doing the grocery shopping. When my brother heard the word, it was nearly impossible to get it out of his head. According to him, it’s been ages since he last had them, which was funny to hear. Knowing my mom, that’s probably almost true. When I was still living at home, we barely ever had them. To speed things up, we split up to find the ingredients.

"Are your new friends nice?" Joan asks, taking my hand again.

"They are, sweetie. You don’t need to worry," I reassure him. "And Mapi will be there too."

"Really?" he says excitedly. "She’s here too?"

"Yes," I giggle. "And Ingrid will be there. Do you remember her?"

"Mapi’s girlfriend?"

"Yes," I confirm with a smile. "She was nice, wasn’t she?"

"Mm-hmm."

We told him the news for tonight. He was a little nervous at first, but he wasn’t opposed to the idea. As we leave our aisle, I freeze for a moment when I see someone in front of us.

"Damn it," I mutter.

"You said a bad word, Ona."

"Yeah, I know, and that’s not good. Come on, hurry," I say, pulling her along.

"Why?"

I don’t answer and rush into the next aisle to find Lucy. I’m relieved to still see her here, choosing the last of the savory items.

"Lucy!"

"Hmm?" she responds indifferently.

"We need to leave!"

"Why?"

"I ran into Leah."

"What?" she frowns. "She lives in the center. What would she be doing here?"

"I swear, she was—"

"Ona?"

Both Lucy and I freeze. I was sure I saw her correctly, but the voice isn’t Leah’s. I look past Lucy to see Alessia at the other end of the aisle. I couldn’t say which of the two is worse to run into.

"Hey," I say with a forced smile.

"What are you doing here?" she asks, starting to walk toward us. "I thought you were in Barcelona."

Lucy points behind her, and I quickly understand she wants to take advantage of Alessia’s back being turned to slip away. I step aside to let her pass and move toward Alessia, but she groans, making me turn around to see Leah this time. We’re completely trapped, and to make matters worse, Joan tugs at my arm to get my attention.

"Who is that, Ona?" he whispers, pressing himself against me.

"Ona? B-Bronze?" Leah says in surprise. "What are you two doing here together?"

Her voice rises with a hint of anger, making me sigh. Joan starts to get scared of the newcomers and clings even more tightly to me. He asks to be picked up, so I do. Now, we’re face-to-face with both Leah and Alessia, who are staring at us. Alessia is the first to grasp what’s happening, breaking into a huge grin.

"No way! You and Bronze!? Was it her all this time?"

I groan as Lucy gives me a hard look.

"Don’t look at me like that. I never said anything about you."

"Really?" she arches an eyebrow. "That’s not what it seems like!"

"I figured it out on my own that there was someone in her life. She never confirmed it or gave me a name," Alessia defends me.

It’s Lucy’s turn to sigh. I hope she’s not too upset with me, even though I didn’t do anything wrong.

"Sorry," Alessia apologizes. "I just didn’t expect us to get found out here."

"Well, you’re crazy for hanging out together like this!" Leah scolds us. "There are plenty of students from Manchester, including us! Imagine if you ran into someone else!"

"Excuse me, Leah, but this is the first time I’ve ever seen students in my neighborhood," Lucy retorts, full of bitterness. "I should be the one asking what you’re doing here. You live downtown, and we’re in a small convenience store. The odds should have been very slim."

I chuckle at Lucy’s visible annoyance. I knew she wasn’t a fan of surprises, but this must be the last straw for her. My reaction doesn’t seem to please her, judging by the stern look she gives me. Even Joan is scared and clings to me more tightly. I understand him completely; I know how it feels to get on Lucy’s bad side.

"Relax," Alessia responds. "It’s not like we have anything against Ona or that we’re going to snitch on you. We were just surprised, right, Leah?"

"Hmm," she grumbles. "Dating is still risky," she insists.

Her comment earns her an elbow from her sister, as they’ve since switched places. It was unexpected to see them, but on the other hand, I feel relieved not to have to hide such a big secret from them anymore. I’ve gotten close to them since we’re in the same class, so it’s been pretty annoying to keep it from them. Especially since Alessia already had suspicions. I take this opportunity to ask her directly.

"You suspected it, didn’t you?"

"Yes," she admits with a small smile. "I didn’t want to push because every time we talked about it, you’d get angry."

Poor thing, I can’t even deny it. Alessia is very persistent, and it’s hard for me to handle since everyone else gives me the space I need. I remember she hesitated to bring up the topic during our last week of classes. It was probably to talk about Lucy. She was right not to ask me anything. I would have immediately shut down. Lucy sighs again, which prompts me to move closer and kiss her cheek.

"It’s okay, it’s fine."

"That makes three people, Ona," she says discontentedly.

"They’re my friends. Yours know too. I don’t see the problem."

"Mine aren’t at school. That’s the difference. And Leah’s right. I’m starting to think anyone could see us together if they can."

I wince as she abruptly pulls away. Without giving me time to respond, she takes the basket I was still holding and drops the ham inside.

"I’ll finish the shopping. Don’t take too long to join me."

No one dares argue with her as she walks away, clearly in a foul mood. I sigh, running my hand through my hair. This afternoon is likely to be tense now.

"Why is Lucy mad?" my little brother asks.

"Lucy?" Alessia repeats. "Oh... Bronze, I get it."

"Yeah... Another thing to keep to yourself. And don’t worry, Jo. It’ll be okay. »

- "She looks really scary like that," he whispered.

- "You haven't seen anything yet," Leah commented.

- "Stop it. Don’t scare him," I replied, frowning.

- "Is he your little brother?" Alessia asked.

- "Yes, this is Joan. He just arrived today, and he's going to spend a few days with us. Joan, this is Alessia and Leah. They're friends of mine from school."

His head, which was mostly buried in my neck, emerged to curiously look at them before he gave a shy smile when Alessia waved at him.

- "Will they be here tonight too?"

- "Uh... No, sorry," I giggled. "Maybe another time."

I adjusted her on my hip as I felt her starting to slip. Even though he's only six, he's slowly getting heavier.

- "Will everything be okay with Bronze?" Alessia grimaced. "We didn't mean to cause any trouble."

- "It’s fine, I’m starting to handle it," I reassured her with a small smile. "I'll let her cool off, and we’ll talk."

- "Sorry for getting carried away, but what I said was true," Leah continued.

- "I know. I think that's why she's upset, so don't take it personally. It’s just that you've brought up a major issue that didn’t exist before. We’ve been going out for a while, but we’ve never really paid attention to our surroundings."

- "For a while... you two?"

- "No, just a few weeks," I admitted honestly.

I could have gone into more detail, but I held back. After all, it’s a story that only concerns us. People don’t need to know that we went through ups and downs before getting together.

- "I thought it had been longer," Leah responded. "It seemed like you two had been circling around each other for a while."

- "It was a bit complicated for both of us at first," I stayed vague. "The most important thing is that we're together now."

- "And so you see each other outside of school?" Leah asked. "You’re both crazy. What if she dumps you because she's afraid of risking her career? We’ll have to pick up the pieces."

- "That’s not going to happen," I rolled my eyes. "We’re a solid couple."

- "Alexia’s girlfriend got fired. It could easily happen to Lucy."

- "And they’re still together. Anyway, I assure you, Lucy won’t dump me for that. But if you want her to be nice to you, I suggest you stop getting on her nerves. Especially since if we stay together, you'll have to deal with her in private, and it would bother me if you two didn’t get along."

- "Oh my God," Leah muttered as if imagining the scene. "Is she as annoying as she is at school?"

- "Of course not," I giggled. "She’s adorable with me."

- "I find it hard to picture her in 'adorable' mode," she repeated, mimicking quotation marks.

- "She certainly won’t be with you," I teased.

- "Hey, wait. If your brother is here, does that mean your parents know?"

- "My mom knows, yes. She found out when she came to see me after the fight with Korbin. She took it well and loved Lucy."

- "Wow. And she didn’t say anything?"

- "No. She was actually happy. Since my ex, I hadn’t opened up to anyone, and no one thought I’d get into another relationship so soon. She even invited Lucy to come with me to Barcelona three weeks ago."

- "Really?"

- "Yeah, they were on a weekend trip, so she told Lucy she could come along when she found out about us."

- "And what did you do during those holidays?" Leah asked. "I guess you didn’t go home."

- "No, we didn’t. We went to the Alps with her friends last week and then came back here. Alexia and Mapi are here too; they were with us."

- "Really?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Even Mapi?"

- "Uh... yeah," I giggled. "She’s dating Ingrid, or rather Engen. So she’s at her place. We’ll see them tonight... hence the shopping."

- "Oh my God," she muttered. "This is all way too complicated. You really have a knack for getting into crazy situations."

- "Oh, please, it’s nothing bad. Anyway, the school year is almost over."

- "Ona," Lucy called out sharply. "Let’s go."

I turned around to see her waiting for us with a full basket. It seemed like my chatting had given her time to get everything done by herself. I looked up to see her expression just as stern as when she left. It didn’t seem like she had much time to calm down.

- "Well, see you soon then."

- "Yeah," Alessia smiled. "Good luck, and see you in a few days."

I thanked them and said goodbye before joining Lucy. Surprisingly, she offered me her hand when I reached her. I took it and let her lead me to the checkout. Despite her gesture, I could still feel her tension. Once again, I kissed her cheek.

- "They won't say anything, I promise."

- "I know. That’s not what bothers me, but the way they found out. Leah is right in what she said. Besides, I would have preferred to wait until the end of the year for your school friends to find out. I don’t want them to see me as anything other than your superior. They’ll think I’m showing favoritism, and we both know that’s not the case."

- "Everyone knows I have a special relationship with you. They won’t think that."

- "Yes, they will. They already do now. How many times have they teased you or made comments about me, huh?"

I blushed slightly, shrugging. Far too many times to count, really. As I just said, they know we have a special relationship. It’s no secret given how she acts differently with me than with other students. So, I often get gently teased about her. When we got to the conveyor belt, I put Joan down, and he was the first to start placing our items on the belt. Poor little thing. I had completely neglected him since our encounter with my friends.

- "Anyway, it’s done now," Lucy concluded.

- "Please don’t be in a bad mood. Not after these past few weeks, and I don’t want Joan to be scared of you. If you need to blow off steam, do it only in front of me."

She gave me a soft smile and surprised me by leaning in to kiss me.

- "That wasn’t my intention... I’m sorry for being so moody, but you can’t really blame me. You know as well as I do that we need to be more careful now."

- "Yes, you’re right. There's no such thing as zero risk, so I’m not going to argue about it, Lucy. If you decide we shouldn’t go out anymore, I’ll accept it."

- "No, I was just joking," I laughed. "I wouldn’t go that far. Besides, apart from coming here or to The United, we haven’t really gone out in Manchester."

- "We’ve visited your secret spots, the park, and even some galleries."

- "Don’t twist my words," she said, rolling her eyes. "If we take the park out of the equation, those aren’t places where we’re likely to run into students."

- "True," I giggled. "Thanks, though. I really expected you to stop us from going out."

- "Of course not," she smiled, gently pulling me into her arms. "Anyway, there are only a few months left. If I get fired, it won’t be dramatic since I plan on leaving next year anyway."

- "But that would bother me..." I admitted.

- "We’ll make sure that doesn’t happen, I promise. But just know that if it does, it won’t be the end of the world. I’ll leave without causing any fuss, and it won’t change our relationship."

I smiled against her lips as she kissed me firmly. This was exactly what I told Leah earlier. Lucy won’t leave me. We laughed softly as we pulled away when I heard Joan make a sound of disgust.

- "That’s really gross."

- "Hey, watch your language," I gently reprimanded him.

He shrugged like a cheeky little boy before turning his back on us and moving toward the cashier when it was our turn. I was stunned. He had never behaved like this with me before. I was starting to think that what Sam or Sofia told me when I left wasn’t exaggerated. Lucy snapped me out of my stupor with a soft giggle.

- "Are you still sure you want kids later?" she teased.

I groaned in displeasure, making her laugh even more. The surprise was such that I didn’t even know how to react. Finally, I moved forward to help pack our groceries. I listened to Lucy continue talking about tonight, but I looked up when I felt someone watching us. I realized it was true when I caught Alessia’s eyes observing us from afar. I gave her a gentle smile before my attention was drawn back to Lucy, who waved a hand in front of my eyes.

- "Are you listening to me?"

- "No, sorry. What were you saying?"

She raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting that answer.

- "What’s got you so distracted?"

Before she could even look up to see Alessia, Joan chimed in with an answer.

- "It’s her friend from earlier. She’s been watching us since before."

Lucy narrowed her eyes slightly before looking at me as if expecting confirmation. I shrugged indifferently, not finding the information particularly important. She then turned to my brother.

- "Really? And how was she looking at us?"

- "Luce-"

I stopped when I saw her raised hand, signaling me to be quiet. I placed our last item in the basket just as Lucy pulled out her credit card. I felt a bit guilty letting her pay for everything, but she insisted.

- "She was looking at Ona a lot. Kind of like Emma at my school. My friends say she wants to be my girlfriend but is too scared to talk to me."

I didn’t know what to think or what to worry about more after hearing that revealing statement. Joan is only in first grade, so it’s strange that he’s already talking about girlfriends, even if it’s harmless at that age. Lucy, however, seemed to have made her choice on the most important subject to discuss.

- "Is she still interested in you?" she surprised me by asking.

- "We’re friends," I replied. "I’ve always made it clear I’m not interested."

- "That wasn’t my question, Ona."

I sighed, shrugging as she put away her credit card after paying. As I’ve said many times, I’m not the best at reading people.

- "I don’t know," I admitted. "But if she still had hope, I think she just lost it."

She nodded, taking my free hand. The other was busy holding our packed shopping basket. Before we headed toward the exit, she pressed her lips firmly against mine, prolonging the kiss as if to make sure we were seen. That was definitely her intention.

- "I hope so. Because I’m not sharing you. You’re mine."

I blushed, discovering this new side of her that I hadn’t known before. With Feli, I hated her possessiveness, but it’s a different story with Lucy. I felt warm and reassured at the same time.

- "Why do you think I was never interested in her?" I retorted. "If I hadn’t met you first, I might have given her a chance."

My honesty caught her attention immediately. I’d be lying if I said Alessia isn’t my type. Besides her persistence, we have a lot in common. Lucy was about to respond, but I quickly cut her off before she got the wrong idea.

- "You already had too much of a hold on my mind for me to look elsewhere, darling. No matter what I might have done before meeting you, know that no one can compare to you now. You’re the only one I need and want."

I could say so many wonderful things about her to make her understand that since we met, nothing has been the same for me. She managed to fix me and bring back a missing part of my life. If she were to leave, it would be like losing a part of my soul. I realized that when we were apart.

- "I’m sorry. It’s just that I’m afraid you’ll find someone better than me."

- "That’s not going to happen."

The thoughtful expression she had disappeared, finally replaced by a wonderful little smile. She gently pulled me close and kissed my temple.

- "I know, I’m sorry. I love you, my love."

I closed my eyes for a few seconds, smiling in return. I didn’t know what she had been thinking, but it seemed I had managed to change her mind. As for me, I really couldn’t have dreamed of a better new life. If only she knew how much I care about her. She is my everything.

[bf-skz]

24 to 25 days of SKZMAS | December 1st - Chan

pairing: Bang Chan x Reader

genre: fluff with a slight angst

synopsis: Bang Chan is an accountant at JY Publishing and as the end of the year approaches gets complitely drowned in work. His significant other is worried sick as he keeps coming home late at night.

warnings: -

words: 785

1st day of SKZMAS

December 1st

Chan lets out a tired sigh before he looks up at the clock. It’s almost midnight. He closes his eyes as he leans back in his office chair, stacks of papers filling up his desk with little to no empty space. The end of the year always goes in a rush. However, somehow their boss always finds Chan to be his victim of overtime and he can’t seem to bring himself to say no.

The office is completely empty. The only sound is the soft buzzing of his computer, the bright lamp above him and the clock ticking away mockingly. It’s so close to midnight…

Shit.

Chan’s eyes grow wide as he jumps up from his seat. It’s almost midnight, what the hell is he still doing in the office? He packs his bag in a rush, shutting it closed and running for the elevator. He presses the button in a hurry, muttering several different curses beneath his breath as he does so. He hops in the elevator as soon as he can, pushing the buttons vigorously, in hopes that it will escalate the ride down from the 11th floor. 

Oh, you are going to kill him, he thinks as he watches the numbers go down to the garage where his car is parked. He wishes it would be the first time he gets so lost and hyper focused in his job to get home late, but that would be a lie. At least today isn’t a date night… he sighs tiredly. 

He hops in the car once he is down in the garage, and he speeds through the streets. After midnight there isn’t as much traffic as there is during the day. Probably that’s the only good thing about finishing this late at night… He gets home in less than 20 minutes, compared to his usual hour-long drive and he rushes up the stairs. 

Once he is home, he quietly slips out of his shoes and coat. The corridors are dark and there is only a soft muffled sound coming from the living room. As he walks in, Berry struts up to greet him with a sleepy yawn and after picking her up, he enters the living area to find you cuddled up on the couch with a blanket. Your face is lit by the TV that quietly plays whatever late night TV show that is popular these days. Your peaceful expression paints a smile on Chan’s face.

He puts his puppy down and walks over to the light of his life to plant a soft kiss on your forehead. To that, you blink awake sleepily, cuddling closer to the blanket and Chan chuckles softly.

“Good evening, sleepy head.” he says, petting your hair gently. 

“Good evening, handsome.” you blink up at him, squinting your eyes. “What time is it? Did you just get home?”

“Ah yeah… it’s 0:30…” he explains shamefully. “I’m sorry, I don’t know how time passed this fast.” 

“Weird, for me it passed really slowly.” you say, with not much edge to your voice. It might just be your sleepy state, though.

“Were you waiting for me?” Chan asks with a small sad smile, caressing your arm that is draped over the blanket. 

“Always.” you say as you lean into his embrace. “But I figured something like this might happen.” As it did every day this week, you don't add. “I hope they gave you some days off for the holidays at least.”

“Well… they need me on the 24th.” he says sheepishly, playing with your fingers. “I won’t be long, though.” he adds, as he always does but he plans on keeping it this time.

You are quiet for a second, looking down at your hands. You swallow whatever you were about to say, and with a sigh, you intertwine your fingers with his. “Okay, Channie. We will make it work.” you say, giving him a small smile.

“Thank you, love.” he smiles at you, leaning down to kiss your lips. “How was your day? Would you like a massage?”

“Let's just go to bed, hm?” you ask, sliding a hand on the back of his neck. That seems to be the only time you have left for each other these days… “It was a long day for you and I have to get up early…”

“Yeah.” Chan hums before he carefully slides his hands under you to pick you up and carry you up to your shared bedroom. “Let’s have a little dinner date tomorrow, hm?”

“I'd like that a lot.” you say, snuggling in his chest. Despite things getting hard from time to time, you know you couldn't be happier with anyone but Chan.

to be continued...

[lowhighng]

The Magic of Christmas

Christmas, for me, is a time of love, joy, and togetherness. It's a season where we share love, give love, and spread love. I can almost feel the happiness in the air, the excitement of gift-giving, and the joy of receiving. Whether it's a small token or an expensive gift, it's the thought that counts. Christmas is the time when I feel most loved, receiving gifts from those dearest to me. I cherish the way my family comes together during the Christmas season. We've been celebrating the same traditions since I was a child, like the manita exchange and the countless games we play. The laughter and joy shared with my cousins are unforgettable. I love the anticipation of Noche Buena, waiting until midnight to celebrate Christmas and indulge in a delicious feast. We stay up late, helping each other stay awake and singing karaoke until the early hours of the morning. I also love the secret surprises, like the hidden money that comes with the instruction, "Don't tell your mom, she'll take it from you." Christmas transcends age, strengthening our bonds with loved ones, even as we grow older. I remember when we were kids, the excitement of December 24th was intense. We couldn't wait to see the gifts under our Lola's Christmas tree, each one with our name on it. We'd get dressed up early, eagerly asking if our wishlists would come true. Even now, the feeling of anticipation remains, though perhaps a bit tempered. I'm grateful for my parents' efforts to make Christmas special. My dad's commitment to fulfilling his promises, like buying me the shoes I've always wanted, and my mom's dedication to preparing the feast are truly heartwarming. And of course, I love helping out in the kitchen, even if it means I might try to finish all the food before midnight. I hope to continue these cherished traditions and create new ones with my loved ones. I hope to carry the spirit of Christmas with me throughout the year, spreading kindness and joy to others. It’s a feeling that warms my heart, knowing that I’m part of something special. As Christmas approaches, I find myself reflecting on the true meaning of the season. It's not just about the gifts or the decorations, but about the love and joy that we share with others. It's about taking the time to appreciate the little things in life and being grateful for what we have.

[queer-flesh-simulacrum]

Can you fart out the air between your chest cavity and your collapsed lung? Only legitimate medical responses pls and thnku <3

[aangelinakii]

Somebody (probably Louis honestly) has to visit Marlon pretty early in the morning to talk to him about whatever-the-fuck leader business and is really surprised to find him not in his office/room. Then he catches Marlon trying to quietly sneak out of his S/O’s room.

(I’m sorry if I’m meant to specify a format, whatever you want is fine)

- unfortunately a Marlon apologist simp

COME AS YOU ARE

in which marlon is caught leaving his lover's room :o

season : four

character : marlon

song : come as you are , nirvana

date : 24th october 2021

au : let's just pretend that everything that happened never happened

note : i can't lie, i was ready to like marlon but then

louis waited a moment after knocking before entering — common courtesy — but as he pushed the door open and stepped inside, his best friend was no where to be found. his lips turned down in a frown, and he entered the room further, looking about. rosie was curled up on the corner mattress, staring up at him, but she was the only being in the room apart from himself. he turned to the desk, approaching it with soft steps.

nothing of note; no clues; no nothing.

taking another sweep around the room, louis sighed to himself. where was that boy when you need him? he thought, making to leave the room. considering how early it was — the sun still in the early stages of rising in the sky — louis had been expecting marlon to at least be in his room; if not in bed, at least at the desk doing his job as leader.

and the one time louis makes a point to wake up especially early to discuss about something important, markon's not even there.

the boy stepped back out into the landing, weighing out his options: wait in the office for marlon to get back, although there was no telling how long he'd be waiting — or make moves and go out looking for him.

considering he'd made an effort, louis was determined to go off and find marlon. he was absolutely not going to wait around in his office for the grass to grow, probably falling back asleep somewhere anyway. the boy stepped quietly over the wooden floorboards, careful not to wake anyone up, heading downstairs. where was he even supposed to start?

in the early hours, all quiet and dark like this, ericson was certainly ominous. if the others were awake, then maybe the way the dull morning crept in throw the barred windows wouldn't be so unsettling. every creak and squeak of the building settling made louis gulp, although continuing to check around for his friend. until one long squeak from around the corner.

this one was different; intentional, done with purpose, everything but the house settling. louis froze, slowly looking back. he'd have to go check that out, wouldn't he?

before the apocalypse, you could've easily passed that off as some kid sneaking down to raid the kitchens of its candy, but now there was no candy to raid. now, however, you couldn't tell what made what noise; was it the house settling, like the other noises had been? was someone heading down to the toilets early in the morning so no one could complain about the smell? or had a walker found its way inside? any of those could be plausible, and louis wasn't too keen on checking them out. but, these days, you kind of had to.

louis turned the corner slowly, peeking out from behind the wall to make sure if anyone — or anything — was there. and, oh, someone was definitely there. but certainly not a walker.

"marlon?" louis whispered out, revealing himself from his cover behind the wall. down the hall, marlon spun around, hair dishevelled as hell, eyes wide and embarrassed.

"louis?" the blonde boy retaliated.

"what are you doing up?" both asked at the same time. each rose an eyebrow, both clearly suspicious of the other.

louis took another step forward, crossing his arms. "i was looking for you, actually. you know, business stuff. how about you?"

one of marlon's hands reached up to sheepishly scratch at the back of his neck. "just passing through, you know," he replied, chuckling nervously.

"is that right?" louis asked, eyes narrowing playfully as he continued stepping closer to his friend. as he looked up and down the hall, at each door, louis noticed something out of place: the door closest to marlon was ajar, whilst all the others were closed, and no one kept their doors open when they slept. suddenly, a light bulb lit up in his head, the jigsaw pieces fitting together and completing the puzzle. louis's jaw dropped, and he was unable to contain a laugh and squeal. "no way!"

quickly jogging up to him, marlong clamped a hand over louis's mouth. "everyone's trying to sleep," he warned, carefully taking his hand away. "just calm down, we didn't do anything."

"yeah, right," louis rolled his eyes. "anyone dating that has to hide about being in the same room together was definitely doing something."

"i'm serious, man," replied marlon, although he was chuckling too, unable to contain a bashful smile. "we just went to bed together, but i woke up and couldn't get back to sleep."

louis opposite him was still raising an eyebrow, not believing his story one bit.

"we need to get you a partner, man."

[dinamitae]

i'm yours | ksj

part of the life goes on series

pairing: seokjin x f. reader genre: modern/quarantine!au, established relationship!au, fluff, slice of life word count: 2.5k+ girl what happened to drabbles??! rating: pg15 warnings: set during quarantine, talk of the pandemic, mentions of sex, suggestive comments, a gross amount of affection, literal tooth-rotting fluff summary: this is the second birthday you’re celebrating in quarantine and your boyfriend, seokjin, vows to make it even more memorable than the last.

a/n: uhh surprise!!! i planned to have jungkook's out next but i somewhat spontaneously got inspiration for this one and ended up cranking it out in about a week. but tbh this was so fun to write and i hope it shows :))

one more thing - this is the ring i used for reference ;) happy reading!

The lingering warmth of your boyfriend beside you slowly dissipating is what wakes you up this morning.

Previously beside you, actually, and you’re only about half awake at the moment. You’re vaguely aware of the comforter being pulled back, the chilly morning air tickling a sliver of your now-exposed back. You roll fully onto your stomach and fold your arms above your head as you listen to the soft rustling of fabric, your boyfriend quietly getting dressed. “What time is it?”

Seokjin chuckles, voice deep and still a little rough with sleep, and ignores your inquiry. Instead, he puts one knee on the bed so he can lay his head right by yours, nose centimeters from brushing your own. “Good morning, birthday girl.”

“Morning,” you rasp, eyes still closed. “What time is it?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he mumbles softly, tilting his head up to kiss your nose (you scrunch it almost reflexively, and he chuckles again). “Go back to sleep, angel.”

You pout at that. “Are you going somewhere?”

“Yeah, I need to...run an errand.” You manage to pry one eyelid open to glare at him suspiciously. “Since when do you run errands?”

“Okay, your first birthday gift from me is that I’m not going to retaliate to that. I’ll be back in a bit.” The one eye you have open rolls ever-so-slightly at his wit before fluttering shut.

“Whatever,” you playfully sigh, reveling in the way his soft lips feel on your forehead. Completely oblivious to the adoring expression that your boyfriend wears, the last thing you hear is his receding footsteps before sleep overtakes you once more.

You wake up again about an hour later to the aroma of coffee wafting into your bedroom.

After slipping one of Seokjin’s big t-shirts and a fresh pair of panties on, you pad into your bathroom to brush your teeth, blankly staring at yourself in the mirror and watching the minty foam collect around the corners of your mouth. You’re turning 25 today. This is the second birthday you’re celebrating in quarantine, which at this point just feels...normal. You remember how sad you felt during your 24th birthday, how uncertain you felt about the state of the world around you. It almost felt wrong to celebrate anything, even your birthday, while there were people out there dying. Luckily, Seokjin was there to very level-headedly remind you that the same can be said for just about any point in time, and that you deserved to celebrate your birthday regardless of the circumstances. And so, albeit a little reluctantly, you did.

Honestly, being with Seokjin has been your saving grace during quarantine. The two of you had only recently started living together when everything shut down, and you’re both fairly busy (you recently started your last semester of law school, Seokjin is the co-editor in chief at a local newspaper), independent people— needless to say, there was definitely some trial and error when you first had to work from home. But you eventually fell into a nice rhythm that suited both of your work and solitude needs, and for that you are so, so thankful.

You finish the rest of your morning routine before heading downstairs, where you’re greeted by a box of pastries, two cups of coffee, and your boyfriend leaning his hip against the counter. He looks up from his phone with a smile when he hears you approach. “Good morning...again.”

“An errand, huh?” You eye the baby pink and white stripes lining the box on the counter, indicating that they’re from your favorite local bakery. You raise an accusatory eyebrow at Seokjin and mirror his stance.

“Yup,” he gives you a tender kiss on the lips. “Only for you. Happy birthday, babe.”

You smile and thank him softly, standing on your tippy toes to peck him on the lips again before grabbing an apple turnover. Seokjin takes that as an opportunity to wrap his arms around your waist from behind and rest his chin on your shoulder. You sink your teeth into the pastry that’s still warm on your tongue, then you blindly try to offer your boyfriend a bite. Giggles escape both of your lips when you miss entirely and some jelly ends up on his cheek— you dutifully turn your head to kiss it off of his face before actually putting the treat in his mouth.

“As much as I love my apple turnovers,” you loll your head to the side so your face is half buried in the crook of his neck, “I’m a little disappointed that morning head wasn’t my first present.”

You feel just as much as you hear his rumbling laugh behind you. “Don’t worry,” he plants a kiss on the side of your head with a smirk, “I’m saving that for later.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

So far, the day has consisted mostly of responding to a gracious amount of birthday text messages, phone calls, and even a few brief but heart-warming facetimes. At around noon, you and Seokjin pick up some fried chicken takeout for lunch, talking and laughing and eating in the safety of his car, before making a brief trip to the grocery store to get some ingredients for dinner along with a small birthday cake.

Evening rolls around, and Seokjin’s stomach grumbles impatiently while you’re cuddling on the couch— with a laugh you take that as a sign to start making dinner. As you’re opening a can of tomatoes for the vodka sauce you both love, your boyfriend puts on some music— more specifically, the playlist he curated for your birthday last year. You cook in comfortable silence alongside each other, save for the occasional “‘scuse me” when you maneuver around one another and the sound of your voices softly singing along to the lyrics. You’re just about to turn the heat down under the sauce so it doesn’t burn while the penne finishes boiling when one of your favorite sappy songs, Sunday Morning by Maroon 5, comes on shuffle.

“Awe, ‘cmere,” Seokjin coos and gently tugs you into his arms with the hand closest to him, holding it right above his heart while his other arm wraps around your torso. You snake your free arm over his broad shoulders and rest your cheek on the other side of his chest. The two of you resume your comfortable silence, basking in each other’s presence as you sway to the jazzy tune.

Sometimes you can’t believe that this is your life. Slow dancing in the kitchen with the love of your life was something you honestly thought was an exaggheration— just one of the many ways people romanticize love and all that it entails. Finding someone that understands you like no one else and loves you for all your flaws was something you merely dreamt of, something that seemed so unattainable. But here you are, dancing in the kitchen with the love of your life, feeling understood and loved and cherished in every way imaginable. And it’s all because of Seokjin.

In light of your thoughts, you let out a blissful sigh. “I love you, you know that?”

Your boyfriend peers down at you fondly, taken aback by your seemingly random proclamation. “Gee, after dating for three years I would hope so.”

You smack his shoulder with a tsk despite the warmth creeping onto your cheeks. “Shut up, I’m just feeling...soft. And it’s your fault, by the way.”

“Is it, now?”

“Yeah,” you mumble into his chest, before looking up to meet his eyes. “You just...make me feel so loved— so special, even when it’s not my birthday. And I hope I make you feel the same, because I really do love you, Jinnie. So much.”

Seokjin rubs a soothing hand on your back as he sucks in a breath and gives your hand, still in his, a reassuring squeeze. “Well, I hope you know that you make me feel the same and more, y/n. You make me so happy and I— I fall more and more in love with you everyday.”

You struggle to find the words to describe just how greatly you reciprocate his sentiment, so instead you pull him impossibly closer, your lips meeting in a languid kiss. Seokjin moves to deepen it, his hand gently cupping the side of your face while one of yours slides into his hair, when the timer set for the pasta rings through the air.

You reluctantly pull away, a faint smile on your lips. Seokjin huffs in mock annoyance as you wipe some lip gloss off of his bottom lip. “Sorry, I love you but I love properly cooked pasta more.”

After finishing your delicious homemade meal, you find yourself sitting at your kitchen table once again, your store-bought cake with mismatched candles lit on top sitting in front of you.

(“There are only five in here!” Your boyfriend calls to you from the kitchen, as you’re currently in the bathroom.

You bark out a laugh, unable to contain your amusement. “Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah, leave it to us to forget to buy candles while we’re literally at the store getting a cake.” A pause. “Don’t worry, each candle can count for 5 years!”

“...Fuck off!”)

Seokjin hurries back from the light switch to sit across from you so he can properly sing you a happy birthday before the wax melts onto the cake. You listen intently, mesmerized by your boyfriend’s singing voice that’s just as beautiful as everything else you love about him. When he finishes, your eyes flutter shut, both out of serenity and obligation.

This is the part where you usually pretend to make a wish, but this year you feel like there are some important matters to be wished for. World peace, maybe? The pandemic ending soon would be nice— for everyone but especially for you being able to kick some attorney ass in person and not just on a zoom call. Happiness...is that too basic? Oh, also—

“Yah, are you writing an essay to the birthday fairy in that head of yours?”

You open your eyes to shoot him a glare that’s met with an amused smile from Seokjin. “That hardly makes any sense,” you weakly rebut, though you concede that you did have your eyes closed for longer than probably necessary. You extinguish all five candles in one blow.

While you cut two generous slices of your cake (red velvet with cream cheese frosting, your favorite), Seokjin goes into your bedroom to fetch your gift, flicking the lights back on as he exits. He returns with a small purple gift bag that has white tissue paper peeking out of the top and hands it to you, sitting beside you this time instead of across the table.

You open the card first (like the polite person that you are), which reads “Happy Birthday to my main squeeze” with lemons wearing sunglasses on the front. You’re still giggling at the pun when you unfold it completely, a few slips of card stock falling out as you do so.

“Coupons…?” Your voice trails off as you read the hand-written tickets. “One free chore, one free tickle attack— ooh, a free kiss! I think I’ll cash that one in now,” you wiggle our eyebrows comically at your boyfriend. He lets out a hearty, window wiper-esque laugh before leaning in to give you a peck on the nose, positively endeared.

You bite your lip in excited concentration as you flip through the remaining ones, before releasing it into a fond pout. “Thank you, bubs, these are so cute.” You’re still admiring your boyfriend’s doodles while he takes a deep breath in lieu of a response. “There’s one more thing in there.”

Your eyebrows pinch a bit in confusion at his sudden nervousness, but you don’t question it just yet. You put your hand back into the bag and fish around in the sea tissue paper until your fingers land on a small, velvet box. You freeze, wide eyes immediately flitting to meet your boyfriend’s. “Jin…”

“This is not a proposal I promise,” his words jumble together in his rush to calm your nerves. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in, before pulling the box out of the bag. Opening it up, a small gasp escapes your lips at what lay inside. The ring is delicate in every sense of the word; a thin, gold band holds a total of seven gems, three small diamonds on either side of a stunning, oval-shaped emerald. “O— oh my god, this is beautiful, I’m— Jin, I’m at a loss of words…”

“I’m glad you like it,” he hums, taking another deep breath. “I know we agreed that we don’t want to get married just yet, but I...I also know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Like I said earlier, y/n, you make me so happy— happier than I’ve ever been— and living with you during this stupid pandemic only solidified that.” He looks up to see you already admiring him through teary eyes, the enamored smile painting your features giving him the confidence to say his next sentence. “So this can be your reminder that I promise to marry you one day, and that I’ll do anything in my power to make you just as happy, if not more.”

You sit up a little straighter, caressing his cheek lovingly. “God, you already make me so incredibly happy...and you remind me every day that we’re in this for the long run— all the little things you do for me, every time you’re patient with me, constantly talking about getting a dog,” he lets out a watery chuckle at that. “I love this...so much, don’t get me wrong— but I don’t need a ring to remind me, you know?”

“I know, baby,” he turns to kiss the palm of your hand, “but I’m also tired of fending off guys at the bar. Now you’ll have a pretty little ring on your finger to let ‘em know you’re mine.”

The combination of his words and the playful, yet sincere grin on his lips strikes a chord within you, and not just in your heart; he is yours, and you are his. This isn’t exactly news to you— you’ve had this conversation with him a handful of times before, where you both agreed that you weren’t ready for marriage just yet. And while you were truthful in saying that you don’t need a ring to remind you that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you, it’s still one of the most thoughtful gifts you’ve ever received (it also makes you want to jump his bones...and soon).

Despite your racing heart and your thoughts that are far from innocent, you opt for rolling your eyes and inching closer until your faces are mere inches apart. You feel your eyelashes brush his cheeks as you briefly look down at his lips, then back up into his warm, inviting eyes. The same warm, inviting eyes that you’ll happily gaze into for the rest of your life.

“Yeah, I’m yours.”

a/n: if anyone happens to recall, this one was originally titled "a promise" on the series masterlist, but i decided to change it after writing that last bit :,) i hope you enjoyed reading, & feedback/comments are always appreciated!!!! <3

[katblu42]

Where Are You Christmas Chapter 2 part A

Next installment of my Secret Santa fic for @alexthefly Chapter 2 was going to be Christmas Eve, but it has become a little long, so this is titled Christmas Eve Begins.

Please note, from here out any times given are Tracy Island time unless otherwise stated! (There will be multiple time-zones involved before long!).

Tagging @jbarkerstargazer (as promised!). Anyone else who would like to be tagged in future installments please let me know!

Part 1 here https://alexthefly.tumblr.com/post/671597767258505216/from-katblu42

Where Are You Christmas

Chapter 2A - Christmas Eve Begins

Sleepy rays of dawn light peeking through the villa’s east facing windows on December 24th found Kayo sitting at Jeff’s desk. She had arrived home from Malaysia late the night before, and Virgil and Gordon had updated her on project “Home For Christmas at the Ranch.” Knowing the eldest’s tendency to over-manage if he wasn’t watched, she’d risen early and taken up the monitoring position, purely for Scott’s benefit rather than any real need to keep an eye on things – Eos had that covered. When Scott came downstairs in the dawn light, seeing her there, face lit by holographic images of the latest storm and fire updates glowing blue in the dim light, along with her rather forceful words of encouragement to go for his morning run, his mind was eased enough that he did exactly that.

By the time he returned Gordon was finishing his laps of the pool and Brains and Grandma were breakfasting in the kitchen. Grandma slid a glass of juice towards him across the table as he approached, which he accepted with a smile.

“Thanks Grandma.” He sat down and took a long draught of the sweet, cool drink. “Good morning, Brains.”

“Hello, Scott.”

“What time do you two head of for Gran Roca?”

“T-t-tracy Two is loaded and ready to go as soon as we finish b-breakfast.”

“But not before I see one more grandson up and about,” Sally said with a wink.

“Virgil’s up,” Gordon reported as he entered the room, towel draped over his shoulders, hair still damp enough to drip, “but I don’t know if I’d say he’s awake!”

“Awake enough, Squid.” Virgil’s voice was more baritone rumble than coherent speech as he came down the last couple of steps and made a beeline for the coffee machine.

Scott wasn’t sure when Kayo had entered the kitchen, she had a habit of staying invisible until she wanted you to notice her presence. She slinked away from the far side of the kitchen, holding her own coffee mug, making way for Virgil to grab his morning pick-me-up.

“Well, isn’t this nice, having so many of us together around the breakfast table?” Sally draped an arm around Scott’s shoulders and gave a squeeze, and looked across at Gordon, Virgil and Kayo. “Now, I’m counting on you three to look after this one and make sure he doesn’t over-stress himself trying to do John’s job as well as his own.”

“Grandm—”

“We’ll look after him, Grandma,” Gordon mumbled around a mouthful of toast.

“Good!” Sally let go of Scott, made her way over to Gordon and gave his hair a ruffle, caught Kayo’s hand on the way past and gave it a little squeeze, and finally latched onto Virgil’s right arm as though he was about to walk her across a dance floor. Her way of hugging each of them farewell without actually saying goodbye. “We should be at the ranch in a few hours, and we’ll be in touch as soon as we arrive.”

“MAX and I sh-should have the communications and monitoring systems there up and running b-before too long. Once that is done, control can be transferred from here to the ranch.”

“By then I should have the Island’s security systems ready for unmanned operation, and I’ll head over there to check security at the ranch, ready for relocation of the Thunderbirds,” Kayo concluded.

Within ten minutes Kayo and three of her brothers were watching Tracy Two wing its way up and away from the Island’s airstrip, giving a waggle of wings in farewell salute. She then set about the task of automating the security systems in preparation for their own departures. The boys had their own tasks to keep them busy – last minute gifts to procure from hiding places and wrap, then stash away in their ‘birds for eventual transfer to Gran Roca among them.

Around 11am, just as Scott was thinking how quiet the morning was – and immediately cursing himself for jinxing it – Eos sounded the emergency alarm.

“International Rescue, we have a situation,” she reported.

In her precise and efficient manner she relayed the details of a scientific team conducting research approximately 300 nautical miles southwest of Bermuda. The Miklos, a three-man sub used to explore the ocean floor, and the crew aboard the Cooper, a support vessel on the surface, had both experienced strange glitches affecting vital equipment, resulting in loss of power to critical systems, and intermittent communications. The Cooper crew had lost all contact with the Miklos, and with all their tracking equipment down they had no way of pinpointing the sub’s location. To add insult to injury, while attempting to manoeuvre closer to the Miklos’ last known coordinates, the Cooper had collided with a semi-submerged object that had damaged the ship’s hull and propulsion system.

Virgil and Gordon were on their way to their respective launch tubes before she’d even finished speaking. Module Four was selected and secured, and Thunderbird Two was away in what seemed like the blink of Scott’s eye.

“Thunderbird Two is go,” Virgil confirmed.

“The Bermuda Triangle, ooohhh, spooky!” Gordon wiggled the fingers of both hands in front of his face to illustrate said spookiness as Thunderbird Two locked into the flightpath Eos had calculated for them.

“Gordon, you don’t seriously believe there’s any truth to all that mumbo jumbo, do you?”

“Nah, not really. But there’s loads of interesting, unexplained stuff people think they’ve seen beneath the ocean’s surface off the coast of Bermuda and some of the Caribbean islands. The Miklos sub we’re going to find – it’s named after a guy who did a lot of diving explorations there. He was convinced there’s an alien spaceship down there. And he was following maps of shipwreck sites created by Gordon Cooper - you know, the Gordon Cooper. The astronaut. The one I’m named after.”

“Which explains the name of the support vessel.” Virgil glanced across at his co-pilot to see his eyes bright and his every fibre alight with excitement at the prospect of exploring such an infamous area. “Just remember this is a rescue, not a joyride.”

“Hey!” Gordon’s tone abruptly switched to one of carefully schooled seriousness. “You know me – one hundred percent professional at all times.”

Virgil’s raised-eyebrow said otherwise.

“Besides,” Gordon explained, “it’s Christmas Eve and I have no intention of dragging this out any longer than necessary. I don’t want to spend Christmas underwater looking for answers to questions people have been puzzling over for, like, a hundred years.”

“Good.”

“Although . . .” mischief sparkled in amber eyes, “wouldn’t it be cool to spend Christmas surrounded by sea-life, just cruising through the blue . . .”

“All crammed into Four? No thanks!”

“Yeah,” Gordon conceded with a chuckle, “maybe not! Gran Roca will be cosy enough with everyone there.”

On arrival at the coordinates Eos had provided, with the sun already dipping below the horizon, they lost no time in deploying the Module and launching Thunderbird Four. Armed with the last location information the Cooper’s instruments had managed to save, and the calculating, processing and scanning power of Eos in Thunderbird Five, Gordon descended into the depths in search of the Miklos. Thunderbird Four’s own scanners added much needed detail to the information he and Eos had to work with.

Meanwhile, Virgil set Thunderbird Two into a hover and zip-lined down to the Cooper to help assess and repair damage to both structure and critical systems. He and the crew led by Captain Williams had barely begun when a priority call alert came through on his wristcomm.

“Thunderbird Two, we have another situation,” Scott’s voice, serious, authoritative, but underpinned with a hint of worry, crackled over the comm. “Your urgent assistance is required on the east coast of Australia. The fires there have emergency services overwhelmed and they’ve requested our help evacuating hundreds of stranded residents and holiday makers trapped on a beach with fire rapidly approaching their location.”

Captain Williams assured Virgil that their situation was nowhere near as critical as the one in Australia, practically ushering him off the Cooper’s deck. As Virgil made his way back aboard his ‘bird, Gordon added assurances that he could handle things here without Two hovering, and suggested patching the Cooper through to Brains for any further advice on getting the ship up and running.

Virgil’s suggestion that he leave Module Four behind and pick up Module One from Tracy Island on the way through was countered by Eos’ practical suggestion that the empty module would provide maximum capacity for evacuating people, while still having the ability to configure a Pod if required. Scott also deemed leaving the module floating in waters affected by the strong and changeable Gulf Stream currents too much of a risk. So, Virgil retrieved the module and took off at top speed for the south coast of New South Wales.

Thunderbird Three meanwhile was closing in on her destination. Alan and John still had not been able to establish contact with the pilot of the cargo ship. Now that they were within visual sensor range of the craft, John was analysing every bit of data he could gather.

“The cargo vessel is still structurally intact,” John reported, with an air of relief.

“That’s a good sign,” Alan answered. “I mean, even though we still can’t get in touch with the pilot, chances are she’s still okay, right?”

“I hope so, Alan. But you know as well as I do there are still plenty of worrying reasons why she’s unable to talk to us. Let’s hope it’s just a fault in the communications system.”

“Why is there a pilot aboard anyway? I thought the ACV51 was designed as a completely automated, unmanned vessel.”

“It was, but after two failed attempts to send unmanned ships to the colony in the last few months the company decided to have a pilot aboard this time. They hoped whatever problem had occurred with the previous two ships could be overcome with a pilot to take over manual control.”

“Looks like they were wrong,” Alan lamented. “I hope the pilot’s okay.”

“We’re about to find out.”

They were close enough now to align Thunderbird Three’s approach for docking. Alan had to match the speed of the vessel’s slow spin as she drifted in space, then deploy the clamps. Despite the expert piloting of his little brother, a sense of dread had nestled somewhere in John’s gut. Alan’s expression gave away nothing but determined concentration as he arrested the momentum of the spin and completed the docking manoeuvre.

With docking complete and helmets on Alan and John prepared to board the stranded cargo ship. Even before the airlock opened they could hear the blaring alarms. Inside they were confronted not only with the noise, but also a myriad flashing warning lights detailing the multiple system failures lighting up the various control panels like a Christmas tree. Their first concern was the pilot, still safely strapped into her seat, fully suited and helmeted, but not conscious. Life support was offline, and her suit’s oxygen supply was now dangerously low.

“Alan, take her back to Thunderbird Three for a complete medscan. I’m going to get started on a system wide diagnostics sweep and then see what I can reboot. Yell out if you need assistance.”

“FAB.”

[cordonian-literature]

The Aftermath - Ch. 8

The Day Before the Tea Ceremony

Summary: After five years, Hana returns to Cordonia

Word Count: ~3.1k

Warning: Mention of depression

*All characters belong to Pixelberry, except those that are unique to my story (I’ve also used some characters and fictional instances from Donna Tartt’s “The Goldfinch”)*

Catch up here!

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- Hana - 

Very soon, waking up in the mornings became a challenge. At first, it was her body that refused to obey her alarm clock. Then, Hana simply accepted it and would wake up by herself around half past eight — almost two hours later than she had been trained to start her day.

This morning was particularly difficult. She had silently cried herself to sleep the night before, and the tears had yet to disappear from her cheeks, nor was her pillow dry. The air was thick as it went into her lungs, though when she opened the window, a delicate breeze embraced her, flowing through her hair and fingers. She could feel the hint of the approaching summer through the signs of the persistent cold.

The dent on the other side of the mattress told Hana that her husband had been awake for hours. She didn’t care. Before Neville used to yell at her and say that it was improper for her to sleep in (“Does not a lady of your status have better things to do than lay around like a pathetic commoner with nothing better to do?” he would shout at her during breakfast). Eventually he stopped, but he would still give her cold looks if he knew that she had been in bed longer than eight hours.

He added to the difficulty of waking up, and Hana suspected that one day she would be too weak to get out of bed entirely.

Today should be better than other days, she told herself as she went to reach for a dress in her closet. Mother and Father are here. There are still a few days left in their visit. Perhaps Mother would want to spend some time with me?

Every step down the stairs and towards the breakfast table increased her level of anxiety. That was nothing new; it was all a part of her daily routine. As was the sound of her heart hammering in her ears. Next was the sight of Neville’s atrocious side-profile. Xinghai and Lorelai were laughing at something Hana had not heard, but she knew that it wasn’t remotely funny — nothing Neville says is ever funny. Her parents greet her, and Neville spares her a glance and says, “Is that the same dress from yesterday morning?”

The room falls into silence.

“You’ve a letter, Hana,” Lorelai informs her as her daughter sits down.

A cream colored envelope with their address smoothly written sits in front of her.

“I hope it is not from that Beaumont boy again,” Neville comments.

“Well I don’t think there’s anything wrong with friendly correspondence,” Xinghai begins.

“I beg to differ, sir,” Neville starts. “It would be best if you saw it from my perspective. An unmarried lord sending monthly letters to my wife asking her to return to Cordonia. That is highly improper. I would ask him directly to respect the difference between my own status and his, but Hana says there is no need apparently.” He scoffs.

All he asks is for me to come and help find Lady Riley, she wants to say. He writes about His Majesty’s depression. Lord Maxwell requests that I come to help him cheer everyone up. Not to worry though, I would never willingly go back without Lady Riley, because without her I am alone, just as I have been everyday for the past decade.

Hana flips the envelope over, expecting to see the Beaumont Family Seal, but instead comes face-to-face with the Royal Seal.

Everyone at the table stares down at what is in Hana’s hands.

“A royal invitation?” Lorelai cries.

Of course Liam would do this, Hana thinks to herself. I had told him that I didn’t want to return. He knew pestering me over the phone wouldn’t work, so instead he sends an invitation, knowing that Neville would see it and would accept it on my behalf.

Hana opens the envelope, taking out the letter and reads the contents aloud.

“Dear Earl Cormery and Countess Cormery,

The honor of your presence is requested by the Queen Mother at the Annual Cordonian Tea Ceremony on the evening of May 24th.”

“Goodness!” Lorelai exclaims. “From the Queen Mother herself?”

“Ah, what terrible timing!” Neville cries, snatching the invitation from Hana. “I’ve an important financial project that requires my attention in London. I planned to leave this evening.”

“Oh,” Hana looks down at her empty hands. “You… you never told me.”

“Didn’t I?” Neville does not look up from the letter. “Perhaps I forgot about it. Forgive me, dear, you know how busy I am.”

She nods, but cannot hide the sorrow on her face.

“Well, Neville,” Lorelai says. “If you are indisposed and do not plan on bringing Hana with you, then it seems as though she is free to attend the ceremony.”

“Perhaps… but what will she say when her husband is absent?” Neville argues.

Xinghai chuckles. “The truth, of course. That you are away on an important financial project and could not attend.”

After a few seconds in which Neville does not respond, Lorelai speaks up and says, “Wonderful, then. Hana, I will help you pack later tonight.”

No thank you, Mother, she wants to say. I do not wish to return to Cordonia. There are too many painful and empty memories. My life already consists of lonely, aching days. Please do not subject me to more.

“Yes, all good.” Neville tucks the paper into his breast pocket. Hana hoped that he would reject the idea. But since her mother suggested it and he has allowed it, there was no chance of her getting out of it. “Now, how much longer until we are served? Staff! I demand to know what is taking so long! If we are not served our breakfast within the next five minutes, by the end of today you will all be left unemployed!”

...

Neville left for London before dinner and did not say goodbye. Lorelai reprimanded Hana for being so distant with her husband, saying that the hard work in securing a marriage doesn’t end after the wedding. Hana had excused herself to go and pack without her mother.

She took the earliest flight to Cordonia, and was in the capital right before noon. She walked into the palace, where she showed her invitation to a servant and was led towards her room.

On her way up the stairs, she bumps into Olivia.

“Hana?” she exclaims. “What are you doing here?”

“Olivia! It’s been so long!” Hana leaves her bags and goes to hug Olivia — who does not hug her back — overcome at the sight of a somewhat friendly face. “I was invited to the tea ceremony tomorrow. Did you receive and invitation as well?”

“No, actually. I’m here on business.”

“Oh, well, sorry to bother you. Do you know if His Majesty will be attending? Or… Maxwell?”

Olivia frowns a little. “Liam and Drake are in New York,” she tells Hana. “As are the Beaumonts… didn’t they tell you?”

Her face falls. “No. After I left, I severed communications with them... for the most part, at least. I only answered His Majesty’s phone calls, which were rare….”

“So… you don’t know anything about Riley’s condition? Liam told me that he was going to tell you and Maxwell.”

Hana’s eyes go wide. “What about Riley?”

“She—.”

“Lady Hana is that you?!” calls a voice. Hana turns to see Madeleine walking towards them, with an unfamiliar cheer in her tone. “It is wonderful to see you back at court! And Lady Olivia….”

“Yes, Maddy, it’s always a pleasure to see you.” Olivia rolls her eyes.

Madeleine puts an arm on Hana’s shoulder. “How is the Earl?”

“He is well,” Hana manages to say, and is glad that Madeleine doesn’t ask more about him.

“I’m glad.” She glances down at the watch on her wrist. “Now if you two will excuse me, I’m on my way for lunch with the Queen Mother.” Madeleine regards Hana for a moment. “Would you like to join, Hana?”

She agrees before she even realizes that she doesn’t even want to go. “And… perhaps Olivia can join us?” Hana was itching to know more about Riley’s condition. Olivia had a tendency to vanish and re-emerge when it suited her, but Hana was not going to let Olivia get away. She had information about Riley.

Madeleine sighs. “I suppose.”

Hana gives her luggage to the servant as her and Olivia follow Madeleine down the hall.

“Don’t worry, Maddy,” Olivia comments. “I hate your presence almost as much as you hate mine.”

“Oh, I assure you—,” Madeleine begins, but they’ve already reached the dinning hall, and the Queen Mother is already seated.

“Lady Hana” she exclaims. “A pleasure to see you. And I see Lady Olivia has also arrived for the ceremony tomorrow.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Olivia says, but Hana wonders what business Olivia was talking about before.

Each of the ladies takes a seat as servants serve them plates of different fruits, breads, and meat. Hana is reluctant to eat; she barley eats at home, but could not sit in front of her plate aimlessly in front of the Queen Mother. She takes small bites and manages to force herself through the meal.

“I imagine that King Liam will be attending the ceremony tomorrow?” Olivia asks, not looking up from her meal.

I thought Olivia said that Liam was in New York? Why is she asking the Queen Mother of his whereabouts when she already knows where he is?

“Unfortunately His Majesty will not be attending,” Regina responds. “He’s away on business.”

“Oh?” Madeleine remarks. “I do hope the issue with the Spanish ambassador goes through. If not, King Liam risks looking desperate and the entire ordeal could shed a negative light on Cordonia.”

“The ambassador had to return to his country due to a personal issue,” Regina states, then goes back to her food.

Both Olivia and Madeleine look expectantly over at Regina, but she continues eating and acts as if she doesn’t notice the ladies’ eyes on her.

“Then… what else keeps His Majesty from being in attendance?” Olivia questions carefully.

Hana shoots her a look. Why does she keep asking questions she already has the answers to?

“He is abroad, I believe.” Regina answers apathetically.

“Do you not know where he is, ma’am?” Madeleine looks up from her food.

Regina chuckles. She takes a sip of her wine and says, “Oh, I know where he is. The king is in New York.”

Madeleine gently puts down her fork. “Ma’am I believe it would best if you advised His Majesty that taking too many trips to America sends quite a scandalous message to the press.”

“Scandalous?” Hana asks.

“They remember Lady Riley and his relationship with her. She was from New York, and his constant visits have led the press to believe that he is having an affair with her!”

The Queen Mother scoffs, taking another sip of her wine.

“We all know that’s utter nonsense, Maddy,” Olivia says. “Lady Riley disappeared after he ended his engagement to you. Don’t you remember? That was one public incident that you couldn’t twist in your favor.”

Madeleine stares back at Olivia. “Incident isn’t what I would call it—.”

“Please, Lady Olivia,” Regina interrupts. “None of that was Countess Madeleine’s fault or even His Majesty’s fault. Lady Riley is the one to blame. I remember that silly investigation she led with Drake Walker and Lord Beaumont. But in the end it amounted to nothing.” She scoffs again. “She knew all along that court life would be too much for her, and with everything that happened to her with that Tariq fellow, it was simply proved that she was not fit for such a life.”

How undiplomatic, Hana thinks. She wouldn’t say that in front of Liam. He would forbid her from speaking about Lady Riley like that.

“Yes,” Madeleine comments, going back to her food. “I tried to warn her of it in the beginning, but she was so… stubborn. No wonder she ended up in such a situation.”

Hana doesn’t understand why Olivia keeps quiet. They share a look. Hana wishes she had the energy to defend Riley, but deep in her heart, Hana is still angry with her best friend. Riley had motivated Hana to choose a life beyond her parents’ expectations. Once she had disappeared, Hana could only hold off her parents by herself for so long.

“I’ve done the best I can for my country,” Regina comments after another few bites of her food. “Of course, I’ve never done anything as controversial as my late husband, but I’ve… done my best to refocus the king’s attention and efforts.”

“Even without a queen, His Majesty has done a wonderful job—,” Madeleine begins.

“Yes, yes,” Regina waves Madeleine’s words away. “He’s done his duty to his people in the sense that he has provided for them and helped them thrive, but he has not secured his throne. Stability….” She trials off.

“I am sure King Liam is doing the best he can,” Olivia begins. “Simply because he does not wish to focus on finding a queen—.”

“Simply because he does not wish to focus on finding a queen doesn’t mean that he has to chase after a disappeared waitress!” Regina exclaims.

The ladies say nothing, and Regina goes for another sip of her wine.

“I’ve done my best to steer him away from her,” she begins again. “But he does not listen to me. I managed once to deter her away from him, and that seemed to have worked for the past eight years. Now he’s after her again.” She calls for a servant to refill her glass.

“You mean to say that he is in New York for Lady Riley as we speak?” Madeleine asks, and Hana notices an irritation in her eyes.

“What do you mean you deterred Lady Riley?” Olivia asks.

The Queen Mother looks towards Olivia and chuckles, ignoring Madeleine’s question.

“If you do not know what I am referring to, then that means that I succeed.” She turns back towards her plate. “She attempted to attend the Duke of Ramsford’s wedding. I saw her at the entrance. In a disguise of all things! I had my guards take her aside and I spoke with her. She said she needed to speak to His Majesty about something important.” Regina scoffs again and frowns. “The audacity of the girl… I noticed a wedding band on her finger, told her that all she had done for Cordonia was put it on a path towards ruin. She had corrupted King Liam’s heart, and her next aim clearly was to corrupt the monarchy… to taint it with another scandal. I had my guards escort her to the airport, and I made sure that there was no chance Liam saw her.”

Riley’s married? Hana wonders. Her heart aches.

“The press labeled her as a crown-chaser once,” Madeleine comments, a smirk on her face.

Regina turns to her niece and laughs. “Perhaps during the social season it did not seem so. But imagine that… she came back for Liam as a married woman. Merely to break his heart even further.”

“Did you know what she wished to speak to him about?” Olivia asks.

“No,” Regina states, deep in thought. “It may have been something she believed was of great consequence, since she came halfway across the world to tell him. I believe it is for the best, though, that she never told Liam. Whatever she had to say would have made him stray further from being a responsible king.”

“But if she never told you what the topic was, then how did it become something for you to decide whether it was crucial enough for his attention?” Olivia frowns at the Queen Mother, who is taken aback.

“I hope I am mistaken, Lady Olivia,” Regina starts, glaring at her, “that you wish to side with Lady Riley, who has done no good for Cordonia or her king?”

“I think,” Hana jumps in, “that Lady Olivia means that if Lady Riley is what makes His Majesty happy, then allowing their relationship would have allowed him to refocus more effectively.”

“If Lady Riley and His Majesty were allowed to continue their relationship,” Madeleine focuses her words towards Hana. “Then afterwards his efforts would be towards keeping Cordonia from international scorn.”

“You know, Maddy,” Olivia takes another bite of her salad. “You always did have a hard time hiding your jealousy.”

“Excuse you?” Madeleine spits.

“Enough!” Regina throws her fork onto the plate. “This has been a very stressful meal for me. I shall go rest in my quarters. Madeleine, walk with me?”

“Of course, ma’am,” Madeleine offers the Queen Mother her arm, helping her get up and walk out of the room.

When they’re out of sight, Olivia puts her head in her hands.

“Poor Riley and Liam,” Hana says. “There’s always someone working against their happily ever after.”

Olivia leans back in her seat, and Hana watches her.

“Do you have an idea of what Riley wanted to tell Liam?” she asks.

Olivia sighs. “Yes, actually, I do.”

“What was it?”

Olivia looks around the room. “This wouldn’t be the best place to speak about it. Perhaps we can go to Lythikos after the ceremony tomorrow, and I can tell you all I know.”

Hana had booked a flight back home the morning after the ceremony. A part of her told her to refuse Olivia’s offer, but another part, the stronger part, told her that this was something that could bring her one step closer to happiness — something that was dreadfully lacking in her life. Hana knew a little excitement would do her health some good. She could call Neville and tell him that she was staying for a few more days. Hana knew he wouldn’t care, though, and for the first time she’s glad for his lack of concern for her. “That would be lovely,” Hana states.

They stand and go their separate ways for the evening. Though Hana is a little less upset that her group of friends never told her about Riley, she still wants to cry in pity for herself. For Liam. For Drake. For Maxwell. For Riley.

If they’re already with Riley, then I’m the only one missing. Wasn’t I helpful during the Engagement Tour? Don’t they want my help or my company? Have they given up on me? Of course they have. In their time of need, I left them alone. What a terrible friend I was. It’s just like Neville said, that my pathetic demeanor would bury me in a life of miserable rejection. I guess I only have myself to blame for all of it. What a terrible friend I am.

[rubbishrobots]

I wrote a Doctor Who story for Christmas

It's been a funny old year. High highs and low lows. My brain processes everything in terms of Doctor Who, so I thought I'd write a little story about a crap Christmas.

Doctor Who - “The Best Of it”

The drop in air pressure was first detected on December 24th. About 3% approximately every 5 hours, which might not seem like that big of a drop, but when you’re in a big research base right down at the bottom of the Mariana Trench, any air pressure escaping is a bit of a big deal.

And so I found myself, on Christmas Eve, in a big clunky OxySuit, lumbering around upon the sea floor at the deepest point in the Earth’s Ocean. I moved around the outer walls of Cameron Base One with great difficulty, pushing my limbs forward through the high-pressure water, the headlamps on either side of my helmet providing minimal light.

Reaching the West Wing of the base, the first thing I saw were the cracks in the floor. It began right where the wall of the base touched the ground, and then snaked out and broke off until the ground in front of me looked like a shatter pattern. This was an alarming sight, to say the least. It meant that the ground which Cameron Base One sat on, that the crew walked across, was unstable. I would have turned around immediately and gone to raise the alarm. But I didn’t.

Because the second thing I noticed was the tall, blue phone box. With a lamp on top and two square windows that sent wavy shimmers of light wafting through the ocean. It was right at the furthest reaches of the cracks in the floor. I wondered how the hell it had got there.

Of course, then I was plummeting through one of the cracks that opened up at my feet, so there wasn’t much else I could do except fall.

I only remember bits of my plummet, so it’s hard to describe now. But it was like being on a pitch black water slide that you fully expected to die at the end of. Something had struck the lights on my helmet almost immediately so I couldn’t see a darn thing, but my stomach twisted and turned, which told me I was being tossed to and fro. Then I remember a tiny bit of light approaching fast, and an impact. Then nothing.

Nothing until I was blinking awake in a dimly lit cave, and there was a woman peering down at me.

“What size shoe do you take?” she asked.

I stared at the fractured image of her through the cracked glass of my helmet. She had short yellow hair, a long pale blue coat, and a t shirt with a rainbow stripe across it. She waited expectantly for me to answer.

“I’m Ellie Tyson, Chief Engineer at Cameron Base One,” I said, unsure what else but name and rank was appropriate in this conversation.

“I’m the Doctor,” the woman replied. “I just knock about space, really. You alright?”

She helped me to my feet and out of my OxySuit. I was bumped and bruised, and the jumpsuit I wore beneath the suit was a bit scuffed, but I was otherwise okay and able to survey my surroundings. The cave was not spacious. There were small tea light candles dotted about, and a steady drip of water coming from the breach in the ceiling that I must have fallen through.

“Right! Welcome, welcome,” said the Doctor. “Let me show you around. I’d say this is the living area over here.” She gestured to the left side of the cave, where a fireplace had been drawn on the uneven rock wall. “But to be honest, it’s a bit of a studio apartment situation.”

“How long have you been here?” I asked, eyeing the crudely illustrated roaring fire and wondering if this was the sign of stir craziness.

“About a week. Been surviving on rations.” She held up a box of dried raisins. “And a few bits I had in my coat pockets to keep me busy.” On the floor of the cave, there was the aforementioned candles, a pack of crayons, a pair of knitting needles and some wool, and a tourist pamphlet for the Blue Man Group. “Don’t suppose you’ve got any food in that big clunky diving suit?”

I shook my head no. The only thing in the utility belt section of the suit was some bandages, medical tape, and a flare. None of which struck me as particularly edible.

“No hope of escape?” I asked, fearing the answer.

“Well, not until now.” She started walking to the mouth of the cave. “Come on, then.”

I followed. There were no candles in the long, narrow passageway she crept down, but the Doctor had a metallic remote thingy that was giving off an orange glow, and she rooted around her pockets until she found a small torch she could toss to me.

“So full disclosure,” said the Doctor, “I got knocked silly on the way down. Consequently, I was half unconscious for like the first 3 days, but as soon as I was able to, I did a bit of exploring. Didn’t get very far. There’s a massive wall just up ahead that proved to be a big fat dead end for me.”

I frowned. “So why are we bothering?”

The Doctor waved a hand impatiently. “You’ll see in a min. Anyway, I knew someone else was bound to fall down the same hole I did, it being next to a massive human science-y base thing.”

The word ‘human’ got caught on some filters in my head, but I moved past it. “Nobody else knows. They sent me out to see why we were having air pressure problems.”

“Exactly, so I knew it was only a matter of time till I had a mate. That reminds me, what size shoe did you say you took?”

“I didn’t, and we have much bigger problems. If the ground up there is this unstable, the whole crew of Cameron Base One could be in real danger.”

The Doctor pulled a face. “I’m working on that! Give us a chance.”

“Except you’re not working on it – you’ve been down here a week and you’re no closer to escaping. Now I’m stuck down here too. The whole base could collapse any second and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“You literally just told me the only passageway leads to a dead end!”

“No,” the Doctor corrected. “I said it was a dead end for me.” We came to the huge wall she’d spoken off. It was about twice our height, but it did not reach the roof of the cave passage. There was a sizeable space at the top of the wall, and beyond that some source of light could be seen blinking on and off from out of view. In the torchlight, the Doctor grinned with great satisfaction. “See? All I needed was someone to give me a boost. I’ll go first and pull you up after. Don’t worry, I’m dead nimble in this body.”

The brain filter picked up that last weird comment too, but I didn’t have time to question. I laced my fingers and let the Doctor put her dirty boots in the palm of my hands, whereupon I heaved her high enough for her to grab something to hold onto and pull herself, and then me after, up onto the raised ground.

Wiping the muck off of my knees, I stood up and looked at where we’d ascended to. The sight before me made no sense. For at the top of this ledge, in this cavern deep down in the Earth’s crust, were a large pair of steel doors with a blinking control panel next to it.

“Oh, brilliant!” said the Doctor. She rushed towards it, aimed her metallic torch thingy at it, and I was amazed to see the doors rumble and draw themselves open. There was a great cloud of dust as they parted.

“These doors must have been sat closed for a good amount of time, then,” I coughed, as I followed the Doctor through the doorway.

On the other side, the Doctor stood dead still. “A very long time,” she said.

If the sight of steel doors had shocked me, it was nothing compared to the room of cryogenically frozen lizard people I was looking at now.

In this laboratory the length of a football pitch, there were rows and rows of pods, half metallic, half rock formations, and each of them contained a bipedal, human-sized lizard. There was frost on the glass of the pods, and they were cold to my touch. The creatures inside had not stirred a bit during our entrance or my examining of their containers. Astonished, I turned to the Doctor, hoping to gain some comfort in a shared vibe of ‘not knowing what the hell was going on.’

So imagine my surprise when I found her gazing at the cyro-pods in delight. “This works out perfectly.”

Silurians, she called them. I dropped to a seated position, probably going into some form of shock, while she paced around the room and ranted about the civilisation that walked the Earth eons before humans evolved (“Eons,” she paused to grin at me. “Love that word. Eons!”). Apparently they saw an asteroid approaching, and evacuated deep underground, putting themselves in stasis until such time as the damage from any impact would have passed. She’d moved over to a raised console built into a slab of rock and had been tinkering with the controls for a good minute before she realise I still hadn’t spoken.

“Soz, that was probably a bit of an overload, wasn’t it? Which bit did I lose you on?”

“The lizards who ruled the earth before humans,” I said softly.

The Doctor’s nose scrunched up in confusion. “Really? That bit makes sense, if you think about it.”

“In what universe does a secret society of Lizards frozen beneath the Mariana Trench make sense?!”

“Well that’s where all those daft stories about the Illuminati come from. It’s just people stumbling across all the different Silurian hibernation chambers and letting their imagination run wild.”  

That did actually make a little bit of sense, but I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of saying so, so I just stayed silent.

“Anyway,” she said, turning back to the controls. “Cheer up, this means there’s probably a way out of here.” That got my attention. I leapt to my feet and came to her side, staring at the panel of strange, unlabelled controls. “The Silurians tunnelled all the way down here, and they were obviously planning to return at some point. So logic says there must be a way out. A lift, or a teleport, or something.” She gasped. “Could be a massive ladder!”

“I’m not climbing a ladder out of the Mariana Trench, Doctor.”

She looked about to respond, but then a shrill, angry bleeping noise erupted from the console. The Doctor stuck her tongue out thoughtfully, the pressed some other buttons, only to be greeted with the same angry bleeping noise. She then tried pointing her metallic object at the controls, but the bleeping noise sounded again. The Doctor glared at the console panel. “Well, now you’re just being difficult.”

“Doctor,” I said, pointing to a small indent in the bottom corner of the console, that looked something like a fingerprint scanner. “It must need, I dunno, authorisation or something.”

I should have noticed the Doctor’s falling expression as she stared at what I’d pointed out. “Oh,” she said, and I should have noticed it was without her usual pep. “That’s a blow.”

Maybe I didn’t want to notice any of it. I was already looking around at which of the Silurians was closest. “So will we need to fully wake them up, or can we just sort of drag one over and then put it back?”

The Doctor turned to me. Her expression was grave. I turned my back on her and marched quickly over to one of the pods so I could pretend to be having a look. “And can it be any old one or does it need to be, like, a Boss or a President or a Mayor? I don’t know what the Silurian political hierarchy was like, was it like ours?”

“Ellie…” said the Doctor. “We can’t. The Silurians wouldn’t understand. They’d want to come back to the surface with us, and they can’t. The Earth isn’t ready for them yet.”

The trip back to the cave was awkward. I walked ahead, in silence. I heard the scuff of the Doctor’s boots behind me, and I felt her worried gaze on my back. And when we got back to the cave, I sat in the corner and didn’t look at her.

I was going to die down here. At Christmas. And everyone in that base above us had no idea they were walking and working on ground that could crumble awake at any second.

And worst of all, the only company I had, the person with which I was to perish, was a buffoon. At a certain point I had to break my sulk and look up at the Doctor, because I could sense her constantly moving and wondered how the hell she could be finding so much to do in a tiny little cave at the bottom of the planet.

Watching her, I still didn’t know. She was rummaging inside her coat pocket for a while, eventually fishing out old Quality Street sweet wrappers of red, green and gold. At one point, I heard her squeak with delight and drop down to examine something in the dirt and soil of the cave floor. When she began to draw more cave paintings and hum merrily to herself, I could take no more. I briefly considered digging the medical tape out of my suit and using it to seal her mouth shut.

“What on earth are you doing?” I asked instead.

She glanced at me over her shoulder. “I’m making the best of it!” she said, and moved aside so that I could see. Next to her 2D fireplace, she had scrawled a Christmas Tree on the wall, with scribbled baubles and doodled tinsel. And now she was humming White Christmas. “We might be stuck down here with no hope of escape. But it’s still Christmas.”

I stared in disbelief. “Are you for real? It is not Christmas.”

She did that nose-scrunch thing again. “I mean, it sort of is.”

“It is Christmas on a technicality!” I yelled. “It is Christmas only in the sense that the date is December 24th. Our current predicament, that being our impending death, takes precedent. And, for that matter, negates all circumstantial Christmas-ness.” I realised that tirade had come off oddly formal, so I added: “So stop being a dope, you big blonde-haired nutter.”

The Doctor, annoyingly, did not look hurt. Or offended. She just shook her head, like I didn’t understand. “That’s not how it works. It doesn’t matter what’s happening. Could be right in the middle of wartime, could be disease and pestilence sweeping the globe, you could be separated from everyone you love. The Titanic could be falling out of the sky! But if any of those things are happening in December, you get to press pause on them for a little bit, and be happy. Because it’s Christmas, and Christmas is magic like that.”

Nice speech. It didn’t work. “You’re a child,” I said, turning back around.

We didn’t talk again for a while. I sat and sat and sat, and at some point I lay down, and at another point I fell asleep.

Hours later, I awoke to a veritable Winter Wonderland.

The Doctor had been busy through the night. She had gone all around the cave, drawing holly and garlands all over the walls. Three tiny knitted stockings were stuck to the hand drawn fireplace. She had carefully placed the different sweet wrappers around the candles, creating a fairylight-like effect of flickering red, green and gold all around. And as I sat up, she was in front of me, beaming.

“Happy Christmas!” she bellowed, and thrust a folded piece of kitchen roll in my face. I took it from her delicately, realising that it was only obscuring something folded within. “Sorry, no wrapping paper. Best I could do.”

I did my best attempt at a smile, given the still pretty awful circumstances, and opened the gift. I had expected to find some random object standing in as a gift. After all, there was hardly a Henrick’s or Magpie Electricals to pop to down here. So when I opened the paper and found two carefully knitted socks, I took me a second to put the pieces together. Finally though, I looked up at her in wonder.

“Is this why you kept asking for my shoe size?”

The Doctor grinned. “Got it in the end. Took a tape measure to your footprint.” She pointed at what I’d seen her messing with on the floor the previous night, an indentation in the mucky ground from my shoe.

That broke my Scrooge-ness. I could continue to be a misery no longer. I thanked the Doctor genuinely, pulled on my new socks, and allowed her to lead me around the cave and tell me in great detail how she had thrown together every single makeshift Christmas decoration. We played snap and charades, and then gathered around the illustrated roaring fireplace to tell ghost stories (the Doctor’s were better than mine).

“I wish I had a gift for you,” I lamented after our Christmas Dinner of raisins and half a Wham bar. The socks really were quite cosy.

The Doctor waved a hand and tried not to look bothered. “No worries. It’s not the getting at this time of year, it’s the giving. That’s what my Mam used to say.” She paused though, then added “But also, if you happened to pack a toothbrush in that suit, I’ll love you forever. It’s been a week.”

A thought struck me. I stood up and wandered over to my discarded OxySuit, and reached into the utility belt. “No toothbrush, sorry. But in the spirit of the season, I gift you the one thing in my possession and pray it brings you happiness and good fortune.” I produced the small roll of medical tape, and tossed it to her.

She did not catch it. She did not even make an attempt. The Doctor had gone dead still since the moment she saw me pull the tape out of the suit. The roll bounced off her tummy and then fell lamely to the floor. Here, she stared at it, eyes wide.

“Doctor?”

When she looked up, there was the biggest smile on her face. “Ellie Tyson, this might be the most important Christmas gift I’ve ever been given.” Then she rushed across the distance and flung her arms around me. “Do you even realise what you’ve done? You’ve saved our lives, you daft little human.”

I had no chance to question her further. The second she let me out of her death-clutch hug, she snatched up the roll of tape and went sprinting out of the cave. I followed her through the narrow passage as best I could, but she was faster than you’d think, and by the time I reached the wall at the end, she was bouncing up and down impatiently. “Come on, come on, come on,” she begged, and I quickly boosted her up onto the ledge and let her heave me up after her.

Back in the Silurian chamber, the Doctor rushed over to the nearest cryogenic pod and started messing with the controls.

“But you said we couldn’t wake them up!” I shouted.

“No time to explain,” she shouted back. “Try and find some sort of powder or talc, any type will do.”

As she pointed her metallic thingy at the pod, I searched all over until I found what was probably the lizard equivalent of baby powder in what was probably the lizard equivalent of a medicine cabinet. I came back to the Doctor to find one of the pod doors open. The Silurian was still completely unmoving, and the air coming from the pod was predictably ice cold.

“What are we doing?” I asked, handing her the bottle.

“Spy stuff,” was her reply. And then, teeth chattering from the cold, I watched her crouch down to be able to coat one of the Silurian’s finger tips in the powder. Then, taking my Christmas gift, she pressed the scale-covered finger into a piece of tape and applied pressure. “That should do it,” she said, and stood up straight again.

“Do what?” I said. Except, no. That wasn’t my voice who had said that. And it wasn’t the Doctor’s either.

It was the Silurian. He was blinking awake, groggy like he’d overslept. “What are we doing?” he asked, then squinted at what was surely a blurry sight of two strangers in front of him. “Who are you?”

“Nobody,” the Doctor squeaked, pressing a complicated sequence of buttons on the panel next to the pod. “We’re nobody. Go back to sleep. We’re just… ghosts. We’re the Ghosts of Christmas Yet To Come.”

The Silurian frowned. “…what’s Christmas?”

“Shush,” said the Doctor, and she quickly closed the door and zapped the controls with her metallic remote, and the Silurian was asleep again.

The Doctor pressed the borrowed fingerprint on the tape into the scanner on the console and it worked perfectly. We were directed to an area at the back of the chamber, where a steel compartment took us back to the surface with frightening speed. We emerged into sparkling daylight, finding ourselves on an island in the Philippines. Well, there are worse places to spend Christmas Day. The Doctor helped me find a phone, which I used to contact central command, who in turn got in touch with Cameron Base One and ordered a speedy evacuation. The Doctor made friends with an old man who had a submarine, and he said he would take her down to retrieve her Blue Box after he’d had his Christmas dinner.

While we waited for the old man to finish his afters, the Doctor and I sat on a beach overlooking the Pacific Ocean. I thought it to be the bluest blue I’d ever seen, but the Doctor said she’d seen blue-er.

“It’s going to be mental down there,” I said, thinking of Cameron Base One. “Everyone loading stuff into boxes, shutting down all the experiments. Must be chaos.”

The Doctor smiled, looking out at the point where, miles and miles below the water, there was a whole base of people packing up and heading home. “It won’t be that bad,” she said. “It will still be Christmas. They’ll make the best of it.”

[soybeantree]

pairing: do kyungsoo x (reader) genre/warning: fluff, hogwarts!au word count: 1.2k-ish description: pre-epilogue era. professor!au a/n: may installment of our ‘trying to write a kyungsoo story for every month that he is in the service’ series. check out the other’s here.

[Thursday, August 12th, 2010; 12:00 p.m.]

Standing in the abandoned train station which welcomes the Hogwarts Express each year, you tap your wand to your robes, changing them from blue to black to green to magenta and back to blue again. The Headmistress has given you the great honor of welcoming and acting as guide to this year’s itinerant professor: Do Kyungsoo, Master of Ancient Oriental Arts.  Professor Do was due to arrive at precisely 11:45 which was fifteen minutes ago. 

As you contemplate a daring combination of gold and mauve, you hear the telltale pop of apparition. A flick of your wand straightens your clothes, and you turn with a bright smile to greet the new arrival. Your smile freezes as you catch sight of the itinerant professor. Your heart, however, decides to work over time, forcing you to breathe deeply as you attempt to calm it.  

“Hello and welcome to Hogwarts.” The words flow easily as you extend your hand in greeting. Being a professor has taught you many things. The most important in this time of crisis is the ability to speak boldly no matter the situation. “I am Professor Y/L/N, and I will be escorting you to the castle and helping to get you situated.”

Kyungsoo’s brows furrow as he reaches to grasp your hand. “I wasn’t aware any of the professors at Hogwarts spoke Korean.”

“None do.” Your smile dims as you clear your throat. “I am the charms professor and am quite skilled at translation spells.”

“I am fluent in English. I wouldn’t have accepted the position otherwise.” He informs you as he throws his luggage on the back of the carriage. 

“I know. I just thought it would be fun to practice the charm.” You shake your head as you climb in behind him. 

[Friday, September 3rd, 2010; 7:37 p.m.]

First comes the deep breath as you prepare yourself to be brave. Next comes the knock. Kyungsoo glances up from his desk, and his greeting smile steals your bravery. You’re already here though, no backing down now. 

“Professor Abkre and I are going to the Hog’s Head to celebrate the end of the first week. Would you like to come?” The grandfather clock which sits in the far corner of Kyungoo’s office announces each second that ticks by. When you have given up hope of ever breathing again, Kyungsoo nods.

The Hog’s Head during your school days had been dark and dingy and frequented by people of questionable repute. Aberforth had owned the pub back then, but when he passed and the pub’s new owner arrived, the pub began a new era. Minseok had opened the windows, cleared the cobs, and kept the old wood polished. He had also expanded the menu beyond alcohol to include teas and coffee. The pub was now an oasis for professors.

Professor Abkre, the Divination professor and your best friend, sits waiting for you, a cup of tea steaming in her hand. 

“Emmaline.” You greet her as you slide into the other side of the booth. Kyungsoo slides in beside you, and the three inches between you steals a large portion of your thoughts. “Emmaline?” 

Your friend’s attention finally snaps to you. “Oh, Professor Do, you agreed to come. Welcome.” 

“Is there something behind me?” Kyungsoo cranes his head, but Emmaline lunges for his robe’s collar, directing his attention back to the table.

“No. Nothing.”

“Minseok.” Your correction earns you a glare and a warning, and you remember who is sitting beside you. You mouth an apology as your eyes plead for mercy.

“Are you two dating?” The question startles a snort from you.  

In response to Kyungsoo’s bewildered expression, Emmaline says, “No, I think he is attractive.That’s all.”

“Have you talked to him?”

The addition of an outsider to your duo always reminds you how odd your behaviors are. “No,” Emmaline continues. She picks at her nails and, with a sigh, explains, “Y/N and I don’t talk to men that we like. We stare at them from afar and do nothing until the feelings go away.”

“Why?”

“That’s a much longer explanation.” You chime in. “And we came here to drink. I’m going to order.” You warn. Emmaline shakes her head, and you flag Minseok down. 

As he approaches your booth, he slows. A wide smile splits his face. “Kyungsoo!” He greets the itinerant professor, launching into a conversation in Korean.

Emmaline’s eyes go wide as all the color leaks from her face. She leans forward, and placing a hand to the side of her mouth, whispers, “What are they saying?”

Mimicking her posture, you respond with “I have no idea. I didn’t cast my translation charm.”

“I am going to kill you.”

“I know.” Both of you lean back as the men finish their conversation.

“You two know each other?” Emmaline squeaks.

“Minseok is the one who told me about the opportunity at Hogwarts.”

Emmaline nods. “Well, I need to be anywhere that’s not here.” And with that, your friend is gone. Minseok glances after her, his brow furrowing. 

“I’d like a Butterbeer please.” You draw his attention away from your friend. “Kyungsoo?”

“I already gave him my order.” Kyungsoo’s voice is soft. Minseok nods to both of you before going to get your drinks. “I didn’t say anything to him.”

“I know.” You sigh, slumping in your chair. “It’s just-” You make a vague gesture with your hands but words fail to explain the sensation elicited from the situation.

“Do you two really not talk to men you like?” 

Your response is immediate, born of endless conversations with your family and Emmaline’s, but you swallow the answer when you glance at Kyungsoo. 

[Friday, December 24th, 2010;  8:53 p.m.] 

Christmas, typically, means a reprieve from students and duties, you had explained to Kyungsoo before the fall term started. He could even return home for the holiday. He had shrugged, explaining that the holiday did not hold the same sentiment for him. 

Halfway into term though, you both learned that this Christmas will be more stressful than classes. The Head Boy and Girl along with the prefects decided to have a Yule Ball. The Headmistress volunteered you and Kyungsoo as chaperones for the ball. Being a chaperone means ensuring that the punch remains punch, the students maintain proper school distance, and that you thwart the inevitable pranks. 

The night before the ball, you stay awake into the dawn. When Emmaline makes a jibe about the reason, you brush it off. While you have spent several of the hours planning your outfit for the next day, you kindly explain to her that the main reason is finishing chaperone preparations. 

The prep is definitely needed. As you hit the ground running once the sun rises. By the time the ball starts, you are ready for bed. Your robes which had started the day neatly pressed sport more wrinkles than a Sharpei, your perfectly coiffed hair fared no better, and you lack the motivation to charm it back in order.

Pulling another set of students apart, you shoo them out of the shadows and back on the dance floor. You remain in the background, pulling a flask you had confiscated from a sixth year not five minutes into the ball, from your robe’s inner pocket. He had attempted to unload the contents in the punch. A quick swig confirms it as Fire Whiskey.

“May I have a sip?” 

You jump, the flask fumbling out of your hand. But it freezes a foot from the floor. The whiskey catches in a delicate amber arc for a moment. Then slowly, it slips back into the flask as it rights itself and floats into Kyungsoo’s waiting hand. He slips his wand back into his robes before taking his sip. 

“Confiscated?” He asks.

You nod. “Not that I’m above bringing my own.” You chuckle, running a hand through your ruined hair and regretting your lack of motivation. The shadows thankfully conceal your wrinkles.

“How many hours do we have left?” He asks as he returns the flask. His fingers brush against yours, sending a thrill up your arm. 

Shaking yourself, you check your watch and groan. “Another three hours at the least. I’m sure we’ll be rounding up students until well after three though.” 

He smiles as he comes to stand beside you, his gaze scanning the hall. “I suppose that’s not so bad. I had school friends who partied until the sun rose.”

The idea pulls your shoulders down with the imagined weariness. You have never – nor have you ever had the desire – to spend so much time away from your bed. “Did you?” He shakes his head. “Did Minseok?” He shakes his head again with a chuckle.

“Minseok and I were the boring members of our group.” 

“That makes sense. After all, you did become a professor of Ancient Oriental Magic.” You tease. 

“And Charms is more exciting?” Despite his level tone, you catch the hint of mockery in the way the corner of his lips quirks up. 

“I never said it was.” You fight the urge to stick out your tongue because you are an adult. “I picked Charms because I am good at it. I’ve never been the adventurous type.”

“Is that why you don’t talk to guys you like?” 

Your breath catches, and you force yourself to shrug. “Like I said that’s a long explanation.”

“You don’t have trouble talking with me.”

“I was forced to talk to you.” The words are out before you fully realize what you're saying. “What I mean is as your guide it was my job to talk to you.” He turns his full attention on you, and words start to spill out. “I had to start talking to you; instead of ignoring you. It’s the starting that’s hard. Once I talk to somebody, it’s easy to continue talking to them. So it’s different with you.”

He nods, his eyes going unfocused, and you wish you had a gift for legilimency. “If you were not my guide, you would have never spoken to me.”

“Yes.” 

“Because you like me.”

“Yes. NO!” But you have already spoken the truth, and the grin spreading across his face buries any hope of convincing him otherwise. With a sigh, you lean your back against the wall, and keeping your gaze on the revelers, continue, “Yes, I like you, but I expect nothing from my crush. I am content to like you from a distance and continue as your friend.”

“But what if I like you too?”

You snort, but swallow your response when you catch sight of his eyes. The candle light glints off them, highlighting his sincerity. “What?”

He steps forward, capturing your full gaze and shielding you from the rest of the hall. “I like you, and I do not want to continue as only your friend.”

“Oh.” You blink. “Well in that case, I guess we could date?” The word feels silly, but Kyungsoo smiles.

“I’d like to date.” He steps back, and the bright lights of the Great Hall flood in along with the sound of song and revelry. 

Your foot taps along to the tune, and your heart leaps to join the dancing.  You content yourself with smiling, and when Kyungsoo slips his hand in yours, you hold tight.

[katehuntington]

Title: Changes - part two Word count: ±3000 words Summary “Changes”: Huntress Zoë Sullivan (OFC) crosses paths and swords with the Winchesters, when the brothers stumble on a case she’s already working. When complications arise, they are forced to work as a team. Summary part two: Four years after the demon attack, a young woman is playing a cat and mouse game with another supernatural creature. Only this time around, she’s the hunter. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures. Demon possession, supernatural creatures/entities. Smut, swearing, alcohol use/addiction. Kidnapping, mentions of torture and murder, illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks.  Music: About A Girl - Nirvana Author’s note: I couldn’t be more excited to share Supernatural: The Sullivan Series with you. @coffee-obsessed-writer​, @soupornatural​ & @mrswhozeewhatsis​, who edited the early drafts, and my girls @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish​ & @winchest09​ who are deciphering the recent version; thank you for helping me with this story and for taking it to a higher level. Everyone who encouraged me to go for it, you are awesome!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist 01x01 “Changes” Masterlist

     Rochester, Minnesota      November 24th, 2005

     Rain falls during a chilly night in November. Thunder rumbles in the distance, as heavy showers dim flashes of lightning that jump from one cloud to the other. Several miles outside of the city in the wide-open spaces, the world seems deserted. The atmosphere is threatening as nature shows her power. Straight roads cross the farmlands, not a living soul using them. No one is on their way home or driving away from it. Then again, in this weather, who would want to be out on the road? 

     In the distance, a light appears and steadily approaches. A bright shimmer reflects in the water on the asphalt, the sound of an engine building as the vehicle gets closer. It’s not an ordinary engine, not even close to the sound that modern cars produce these days. Actually, it’s not even a car.      A black Harley Davidson cuts through the night, roaring like a lion. The classic motorbike leaves a spray in its wake, the water catapulted from the back tire. The polished paint job shines proudly, catching even the smallest glint of light. Raindrops try to cling to waxed metal, failing miserably. It’s obvious the owner of this beauty takes good care of her. It’s the type of bike you would expect an old rocker to ride. The kind that listens to Metallica and is a member of a biker gang. A tough guy with a beard and big sideburns, who rides from roadhouse to roadhouse, consuming nothing but steak and beer. Nevertheless, this lucky Harley is ridden by a young woman. 

     The rider seems to be in a hurry; despite the slippery roads; she’s speeding down 75th street NW at ninety miles an hour. This woman and her Harley have reason to haste. The biker tries to focus on the road ahead, yet glances in her side mirror frequently, checking if she’s being followed. The sharp pain in her abdomen keeps her awake. She mutters to herself, biting down the pain. How could you be so fucking stupid? It’s your job to know what you’re dealing with, and yet you were caught off guard!

     The suburb of Rochester appears in the south; she’s almost there. The rider bends over her bike, clamping one arm around her waist and applying pressure.       “Fucking hell,” she curses.      She refuses to look down at her injury and keeps herself together. Hopefully, it’s not too bad, she doesn’t have time to get stuck in the ER. It’s during moments like these she regrets falling in love with her ‘94 Harley Davidson Road King, because a faster bike like a modern Kawasaki sports bike would be much more convenient right now. 

     She follows the road, which is shadowed by trees on both sides, until she passes through a small town, called Douglas. Again, she checks her mirrors, but there’s nothing on her tail. In front of her, several cars and trucks are driving up route 52. A sigh of relief escapes her mouth; back in the civilized world.       After turning right just before the highway, she speeds up again on the road running parallel to it. Finally, the motel appears in the distance, a building with a large neon number ‘6’ on the roof. The female biker parks her Harley in front of the motel and turns the ignition. Not nearly as graceful as usual, she gets off her bike and heads toward the entrance of the motel. With her right hand on her bleeding wound, she stumbles across the parking lot as she takes off her helmet. 

     A flash of lightning cracks the sky and reflects on the cars parked in front. For a split second, she thinks she sees a shadow standing in the rain. Quickly, she turns towards it, but it’s gone, yet her hand goes for the gun tucked behind her waistband, instinctively. On high alert, she scans her surroundings, her intuition telling her she’s not alone. Is she getting paranoid? He wouldn’t come out here and follow her by car, would he? That would be insane, he’d be too exposed.      Her hand slips from the grip of the weapon and she makes a run for it. After hastily entering the motel, she closes the door behind her. It’s warm in the lobby, country music playing in the background, a huge contrast to the chilling weather outside. Standing in the bleak light instead of mysterious shadows makes her feel a bit more at ease. 

     The old man behind the counter looks up from his paper, peaking over his reading glasses. An empty soda bottle decorates his desk along with some paper wrappers which once held a Wendy’s cheeseburger. She stares at the wrappers for a moment. Fuck, she would kill for a burger right now.      “You’re behind on your payment, Mrs. Johnson,” the old man remarks.      She throws a Mastercard on the desk while closing her coat around her body, hiding her injury and keeping the hand she used to staunch the bleeding firmly against her side. The motel manager thankfully doesn’t seem to pick up on anything out of the ordinary and takes the card without thanking her.      “I’m afraid I’ll have to charge you the extra night, too. It’s way past check out.”      “No worries, book two more. I’ll be sticking around for a few more days,” she returns.      “Business taking longer than expected, huh?” he assumes, while working the computer.      “Something like that, yeah,” she answers shortly, not willing to elaborate.      “Those two nights were the last slots. It’s busy this weekend.” The man behind the desk hits the enter button. “You’re in luck.”      She frowns at the comment. Right, luck. Looks like luck got me fucking shot. Thankfully he doesn’t have any further questions, she’s not in the mood for a chit-chat with the fossil. 

     The restless woman scans the parking lot outside for the third time, slightly out of breath, her face tense. Every once in awhile the motel manager glances over his screen, observing his client. Her black leather biker jacket is soaked through, but it doesn’t seem to bother her. Brown hair falls down her shoulders, the tips escaped her helmet drenched from the rain. Her dark eyes seem worried, makeup slightly faded. A young woman, who - according to the information he got from her when she checked in - married early, apparently. How old could she be? Twenty four, twenty-five, maybe? She doesn’t really seem like the marrying type, and he has seen many folks come and go. The poor girl looks pale, too, as if she’s ill or carrying a heavy weight upon her shoulders. A lot of shady business has happened in his motel, so he knows the signs. Maybe it’s drug related, maybe she’s fleeing from an abusive relationship. Who knows? He doesn’t bother to ask anymore. It would put him out of business if he would. Besides, she doesn’t seem like the person anyone would want to mess with. He does make a mental note to keep an eye on her and make sure his motel doesn’t turn into a crime scene.      “Here ya go.” He hands her back her credit card. “You know the way.”

     The mystery woman nods, picks up her helmet from the desk, and turns down the hallway. While entering room number 82, she takes off her jacket together with her tartan wind scarf and strides to the bathroom. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, her gaze drops to her abdomen, where a bloodstain has darkened her grey shirt. She lifts it up, the fabric sticking to the punctured skin. Fuck, that feels anything but pleasant. She reveals the bullet wound underneath, several inches to the left of her belly button.      “Shit, shit, shit.”       Carefully she takes off her shirt, her breasts only covered with a bra. Still staring at her reflection, she ponders on her next move. Maybe paying a visit to the hospital isn’t such a bad idea after all. That bullet could have ripped through a number of organs. The small intestine, descending colon, she remembers clearly from the books and lectures. The inferior mesenteric artery branches out there too.       “Would’ve been more blood if it was an artery,” she mutters to no one but her own lonesome mind.

     The fact that the bullet bounced off the wall before it hit her, could mean that it didn’t sink too deep into her skin. She decides to give it a try and fish it out herself; if she can’t solve the problem, a doctor’s visit is always an option.      The young woman grabs a clean towel and wipes away the crimson around the wound as she moves back to the bedroom. She takes a small briefcase from under the bed, putting it down on the table in the corner of the room. A sigh falls from her lips when she sits down on the chair, then opens the lid, revealing a wide range of surgical instruments and medical supplies. Gauze, suture thread, sterilizers, tape, syringes, catheters, and several small bottles with different substances ranging from morphine to epinephrine; enough gear to do minor surgery.      She swallows apprehensively; this is going to get nasty.      “Hell, I’m not doing this alone.”      Next to her bed, a bottle of whiskey beckons her. With a moan, the injured woman gets up, grabs the Johnny Walker and the glass next to it. She turns on the radio on the cabinet, twisting the volume button all the way, and walks back to the table, halting to face the mirror inside the briefcase. Filling up the glass with alcohol, she grabs gloves, forceps, and other supplies she is going to need. In the background, the first tones of About A Girl by Nirvana comes through the small speaker. With the bottle of Johnny’s Black Label on standby, she clears her throat while putting on the blue latex gloves. Here goes nothing. 

     There is a sharp increase in pain as the forceps slowly enter her body. With her eyes focused on the reflection in the mirror, her jaws clamp together as she tries to reach the bullet. She groans, fighting the intense agony that almost seizes her attempt, struggling to contain herself and steady her breathing. Not wanting to draw any attention is the only thing preventing her from screaming at the top of her lungs. Finally, the forceps touch something solid. With tears burning in her eyes, she succeeds in getting a hold of it, then carefully pulls back and drops the bullet into the glass. Quickly, she grabs the whiskey and takes large swigs, wincing at the afterburn.      “Fuck, that hurts,” she hisses, placing the bottle back on the table with a loud bang.

     The worst part is done, but it’s not quite finished yet. Shaky hands reach for the disinfectant, but unfortunately, the bottle of chlorhexidine is empty. Stupid, she should have stocked up immediately after she used it all last time. Oh well, whiskey will have to do then. And so she takes the Jack and pours the last bit of whiskey over the wound. The alcohol needs only a second before taking effect. But when the stinging pain does come, she’s unable to tone down the growl leaving her throat. But you know what really pisses her off? Now she’s out of whiskey, too. 

     Frustrated, the young woman clenches her fist, waiting for the pain to fade until it’s bearable. After several minutes, she has finally calmed down enough to proceed. She takes the thread and stitch scissors and finishes the job. The pain from the stitching needle piercing her skin isn’t too bad; it almost feels like a tickle compared to the forceps. After ripping a sterile wound pad out of its package with her teeth and soaking it in betadine, she places it over the wound and tapes it to her skin. All done. Unfortunately, she will live to see another day.

     With a sigh, she strolls over to the bathroom while pulling her latex gloves off her hands. Again, the woman - who basically just performed surgery on herself - looks in the mirror.      “Well hello, gorgeous,” she mutters sarcastically, registering the bags under her eyes, the run-down mascara and messy hair.       She looks like a train wreck and that’s an understatement. But considering recent events, she's lucky to still be standing. After opening the faucet, she bends over the sink. The water feels refreshing on her skin as she washes her face. With her hands on the edge of the sink, she closes her eyes. Time for a moment to stop, debrief, and take a breath.

     The fucking night she had. 

     What the hell happened out there? Where did this go wrong? She found a pattern, located the next victim. At least, she thought she did.       Burdened, the brunette turns around and slowly walks back to the main room. The interior of the motel is rather boring, but the bed is comfortable enough and there’s a television. Normally she insists on more luxurious hotels, but with two big events happening in the city, this was all she could find. 

     By the bed, she halts. A puzzle of newspaper articles, pictures, books, and blueprints lay spread out over the mattress as some sort of mind map. An outsider would think this so-called Mrs. Johnson might be a special agent. That, or a psychotic killer, but neither is true. In fact, her name isn’t even Mrs. Johnson. 

     Biting her lip, she narrows her brown eyes and tries to find some sort of link, an explanation for what happened tonight. Terry Cliffer, the guy she expected to be the next target, turned out to be the bad guy. The bastard who shot her certainly looked an awful lot like Cliffer. Somehow the suspect was on to her and made a change of plans, but what was the trigger?      She picks up two articles, both from the local paper, the Post-Bulletin. One is about a murderer with an ironclad alibi, the other a tiny report of a strange robbery. Both incidents took place during the same night, both suspects were caught on surveillance cameras, both claimed to be elsewhere at the time of the crime, and neither fit the profile of a killer or a thief. Two separate mysteries for the local police, one crystal clear case for a hunter. Until now, that is.

      She mutters unintelligibly, annoyed with the fact that she’s one step behind. There’s another question poking at her subconscious, maybe one of even bigger importance: how the hell did it shift so fast? She picks up a book from her bed and rereads the passage she labeled ‘Shapeshifting’.      ‘Shapeshifting is a common theme in mythology and folklore. In its broadest sense, it is a metamorphosis (change in the physical form or shape) of a person. Shapeshifting involves physical changes such as alterations of age, gender, race,  general appearance, or changes between human and animal form.’      Still standing up, she leafs through the book, trying to find what she’s looking for.      “Forms of shapeshifting, powers, punitive changes, needed items, yadda yadda yadda. Damn it, where is it!?” 

     Throwing the book back on the bed, she sits down, wincing, and pulls her MacBook closer on the table. Focused, she fires up the hard drive and opens her archives. After a bit of searching, the screen finally shows the information she’s been looking for.      “Shifting process: The shifting process takes several hours, but can be hastened by the shapeshifter itself, by tearing off its own flesh - Oh, that’s just gross.” She shivers, disgusted, staring and rereading the passage just to be sure.      It might be gross, but this is what’s happening. Something disturbed the monster she’s hunting, but did she mess up this job or did someone else blow her cover? 

     She has to go back to the roots of this case for everything to make sense. At least three people are connected to each other. Three people who don’t work together, who don’t live close by, but there’s one thing they have in common: they’ve all been seen at 110th Ave NW just outside Rochester this month. Traffic cams confirmed this, so the shifter must be hiding somewhere along that road. But where?      She opens a satellite picture of the area on her Apple computer and observes the houses alongside the road. The estates are spread out and have long driveways. It would take months to figure out where the shifter’s den is, and the creature will be long gone by then. Yesterday, she thought she had a lead. She discovered the thing uses the sewer system to travel. More than fifty percent of the houses out there aren’t connected to the sewer system, but have their own septic tanks, so she could scratch those off the list. Only nine of the remaining houses are empty. The problem is, she already checked those homes and ended up with nothing.

     “C’mon, what does your gut tell you?” she mumbles to herself.      One house, deep in the forest, captures her eye. It’s not connected to the sewer system, but on the last drive by, she saw a ‘for sale’ sign by the side of the road. Good chance it’s empty. It wouldn’t make any sense for the shapeshifter to hide out in the woods, miles from the sewer, but she has a feeling something’s going on in that place. Her intuition is the only thing she’s going on, since there are no leads left to investigate. Why is a voice in the back of her mind telling her to go there when it makes absolutely no sense?      “This is fucking insane,” she states out loud as she gets up to put on a new top.      Insane, maybe. But she is not going to sit on her ass and watch this monster get away with more abductions. What concerns her, is the people of which it stole their identities, are now missing. They could be dead for all she knows, but they could also be held some place, and in that case, every second counts. This stops tonight; she has been hunting this fucker for way too long. Determined, she gathers her stuff and leaves the room, heading back to the hunting fields.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page)

Read chapter three here!

[kdacher]

Two Paths That Finally Meet: Chapter 1

Notes: Okay so it’s somewhat long and it doesn't mention the boys a whole lot but it has all background information that will help the story out later. Shoutout to @bunnyhopz2000 who came up with the idea and helped me come up with the plot :) Also, i will be using the hashtag 2PTFM so you can find all chapters there!

Ever since I was a baby, my life was picture perfect. Everything had always happened to go my way, well almost everything. I did happen to grow up without a dad as he passed away when I was only three years old in a work accident, and ever since then, it’s just been my mom and me. Like every other girl at my school, I lived in a massive house in Atherton, California, which, kind of made me fall into the typical rich, popular girl group.

At a young age, I fell in love with gymnastics, more specifically, the balance beam. Going into my senior year of high school, offers have been pouring in from many schools like Oklahoma, Florida and even Louisiana, which are some of the top gymnastic schools in America.

This was my life: perfect. Well, until the day of July 24th, 2018 when my life changed in the blink of an eye.

___   ___   ___

“Hello? Miss. Amber Davis?” I slowly opened my eyes, smelling the disinfectant from the hospital, as I slowly sat up from the cold, leather chairs I had layer across in the waiting room. My eyes were burning and bloodshot from all the crying I had done earlier as I looked up at the figure in front of me. She was tall, with a surgical mask around her neck and was holding a clipboard.

“Hi, you must be Amber, I’m doctor Wagner.” She stuck out her hand for me to shake, then sat down in the seat beside me, pulled her glasses down over his eyes and began to skim over the papers. I peeked over her shoulder trying to get a glimpse but she twisted to face me, hugged the clipboard snug against her chest, and began to speak.

“Your mother sustained many life-threatening injuries in the accident. We did everything we could in surgery, but I’m afraid that she isn’t going to make it through the night and if she does make it, she will never be the same.” I looked up at her and nodded, feeling my heartbreak into a million piece and the tears began to roll down my face. She pulled a couple of tissues out of her coat pocket and handed them to me, then wrapped her arm around my back and rubbed it up and down, attempting to comfort me.

      “Sweetheart! I got here as fast as I could. How is she doing?” Someone’s wrinkly arms were wrapped around me. “Grandma!” I cried as I jumped up and over the seat to hug her. Dr. Wagner then stood up from where she had been seated and approached us.

“Are you the mother of Mrs. Abbie Davis?” Doctor Wagner asked. My grandmother pulled away from the hug and faced her putting her arm around my shoulder pulling me close to her.

“No, actually I'm her Mother in law, her parents aren’t from around here. Katharine.” She stuck her hand out for a handshake and doctor Wagner introduced herself. “So, what happened to my sweet Abbie?” she asked. Dr. Wagner looked down at me “I think we should let Amber see her, and we can go chat.” We began walking down the long, plain hallway leading to the ICU. When we arrived, Doctor Wagner took the key card dangling from her neck off and inserted it in the door to open it. She then hauled a heavy, wooded chair from the hallway into the room, placing it against the wall and gestured for me to sit in it.

“If you need anything you can find us in the cafeteria or a nurse should be checking in every hour or so.” She smiled and handed me a brown wool blanket. “Please Amber, try to get some sleep, it’s pretty late and it will make you feel better.” She then dimmed the lights and shut the door leaving me alone with my mom.

I tried falling asleep multiple times, but I just couldn’t. Every time I tried, my thoughts would keep me awake and the only thing comforting me was the beeping that her heart monitor had which was indicating that she was still alive. Eventually, I gave up and pulled my chair next to her bed. I grabbed her cold, bruised hand and rested my head beside it.

“Mom, I don’t know if you can hear me but I just need to let you know that I love you so much and that I need you to fight for me. Please, mom, you can't leave me.” My voice began to crack. “I can't lose you like we lost dad. Please, mom, I need you, I can’t do it without you.” The tears began to pour down my face again, staining the white bed sheets black from my mascara.

Not realizing I had finally fallen asleep, I was awoken by a loud, beep that didn’t seem to stop. At first, I thought it was just my alarm, but when I couldn’t find the snooze button, my head sprung up and I realized that it wasn’t just a nightmare. As I looked at the heart monitor, there was a straight, thin, green line across the screen. I jumped out of my chair and bolted out of the room and down the hall meeting Dr. Wagner who was sprinting towards her room with a swarm of doctors. One in which stopped and basically drug me back into the waiting room.

About an hour later, Doctor Wagner appeared in the waiting room. She pulled the mask down from her face and she had a discouraged look on her face. “Amber, Katharine. We did everything and couldn’t revive her. I’m so sorry.” When those words left her mouth I collapsed into my grandmother’s arms, squeezing her tight and began to sob. She ran her hand through my long blonde hair and shushed me, trying to calm me down

____    ____     ____

A couple weeks passed and I was finally starting to get out of bed a feel the slightest bit better. That was all up until I was finally somewhere other than my room. There was a loud knocking at the door and I glanced over at my grandmother who was standing up from the couch. She handed me the TV remote, which I tossed on the coffee table where my feet were.

She swung the door open to see a lady wearing a black pantsuit holding a black leather briefcase. “Hello, I am here to speak with Amber Davis.” When I heard my name I reached for the remote to turn the volume down on the TV, and sat up putting my feet on the soft fur rug and began to eavesdrop.

“I’m Nancy from social services, I am here to discuss a home placement for her if that’s okay.” My stomach began to ache and everything around me began to spin. I heard the door squeak open and high heels begin to click against the tile.

“Amber, someone is here to speak with us.” My grandmother announced as she turned the corner from the front entrance.

“And you must be Amber,” Nancy said as she sat in the white chair across from me. She then unzipped her briefcase, and digging through many files until she pulled out a yellow file labeled “ACD.” She opened the file, handed a copy to my grandmother and me, and began to skim through it.

“Okay, so it says here that you were born January 2nd, 2001, since you will not be 18 until then, we will have to find you a home. You will live there until your 18 and you can either choose to stay or leave.” She said pointing to a line highlighted in yellow so we could follow along. “Now if you skip to the top of the last paragraph on the second page it states that you were adopted on the fourth of January 2001 to Mr. and Mrs. Davis. Is this correct?” she glanced up at my grandmother, who looked at me with an ashamed look in her eye and nodded “Yes, that’s correct.”

They began a conversation about the adoption details, which I clearly wasn’t a part of because I had no idea. This had my head spinning and I felt like I was going to pass out. After a good five minutes of trying to work it out in my head, everything was finally falling into place. I always questioned why my parents were both super tall, with brown eyes and dark brown curly hair, which was the complete opposite of me. I had straight golden blonde hair, green eyes, and I was never really that tall. Nancy began to speak to me again, which snapped me out of my daze.

“Okay anyways, on that date, your parents and birth parents signed a form that stated if anything were to happen to your parents, you would be moving in with them rather than a foster family. Since this is the case I have arranged a flight for you on Wednesday.”

“What do you mean, a flight.” I snapped back

“Well, your family is living in Michigan, so you will have to move there.”

“Who are they,” I asked. Nancy then pulled a picture out of the file. It was a family of four. They had two sons, one looked to be about the same age as me.

“So, these are the Caufield's. Kelly, Paul, Brock, and Cole.” She replied by pointing at each as she said their name. “Oh, and it turns out Cole it's your twin brother. Says here he was born fifteen minutes before you.”

My blood was now boiling for so many reasons. One of which, was that I was moving in with a family that picked my brother over me and basically disowned me.

“Alright, that’s all for today. I will see you bright and early Wednesday morning!” She then grabbed the folder, put it back in her briefcase and marched out the front door.

[fernwehbookworm]

Woke the F*ck Up- Chapter 14

February 23rd, 2018

The news hit the next day. Lena Luthor was missing. Last seen getting off a flight at National City Airport. No one saw the car she got into or how she left the airport. Pain lanced through Kara's heart. The blurry image Winn managed to 'acquire’ from the NCPD shows Lena still in a beautifully elegant dress from the pictures from the gala in Metropolis. She had no luggage. She must have left the fundraiser and headed straight for National City.

Kara felt like a coward. Cat had tried to convince her to go. To see Lena face to face but Kara couldn't take any more rejection. Lena had never called or even text. That was clear enough for Kara. So Cat went alone, to auction off the original for the CatCo cover that broke the record in sales the first day. Kara promised Cat ten percent commission on every other painting sold. The only reason Kara could think of for Lena to come so suddenly is to see her.

If only she had gone to Metropolis. Then Lena wouldn't be missing. Kara suspected Lillian. How else would the crime boss get to a vigilante whose mother was halfway across the world taking the honeymoon she and Jeremiah never were able to take, whose sister was an FBI agent, and whose friends were vigilantes with her. Plus Lena was her daughter and could probably serve other nefarious purposes as well.

With determination, Kara strode to the hidden panel in the central command table and pressed he palm to the reader. A green light scanned her hand and the panel opened with a small gush of air.

“Whoa, I didn't put that there. Where did that come from?” Winn exclaims, sitting up in his chair, dropping his feet to the floor from where they had been perched by a computer.

“I put it here. I may not be you smart but I have a few tricks up my sleeve. Plus Alex has the same model and helped me to install it a while ago.”

Kara begins unloading the contents of the compartment on the table. Winn shoots to his feet and James turns from where he has been studying the layout of the Cadmus base.

“Kara, I thought you didn't like guns.”

“I don't like them. Doesn't mean I don't know how to use them. Alex made sure of that.”

“Kara…” James says disapprovingly.

“Don't fucking start with me James. Lillian has kidnapped Lena and now  that woman has gone too far this time.”

“You have no proof Cadmus has Lena,” James says.

“Lillian knows who I am. Of course she has Lena. This is personal now. She has been trying to take my city, she sure as hell won't take the woman I love.” Kara pauses as the word leaves her lips and knives through her heart.

“Kara, I thought you were past this. I thought that’s what all the therapy was for.” James says. Kara looks at him hard.

“Therapy was so I could handle everything in a healthy fashion. But I do love Lena. How we ended sucked, and it will take time for me to move past it, but I blaze like that leaves its mark. But I will not leave the woman I love in the clutches of her evil mother and a criminal organization.”

Kara begins strapping her collection to her uniform. Two handguns at her hips, a smaller one strapped to her right thigh, mirrored by an array of throwing knives on her left. Smoke and flash-bang grenades are loaded into the pouches at her waist. A shotgun is slung to her back. An ammo belt slings across her body as more ammo weighs down her utility belt.

“Kara I don't like this.”

“Have I not made it clear enough? James, you are only here to make sure you don't kill yourself doing this on your own. Because you threatened to do it on your own. I couldn't look my cousin in his eye if anything happened to you. But you are not my friend. You have done nothing to act like a friend. All you've done since the day I turned you down is mope and try to tell me what to do like some Alpha male who got his favorite toy taken away. Don't forget it was me that saved your ass. I don't fucking want you here. But you are because you are Clark's and Winn's friend for some ungodly reason. I couldn't give two shits what you think. And you can stay behind for all that matters.”

Silence falls after the angry ringing of Kara's words. James walks slowly away and back upstairs to the gym. Kara lets out an exasperated sigh.

When she’s dressed, she calls Alex to start forming a plan with the DEO. This was too big for just herself. Winn begins searching their known Cadmus bases for any new activity.

February 24th, 2018

Lena sits strapped to an uncomfortable chair for hours. Her mother seems convinced that that Power Girl would show up. Lena was much less sure but her throbbing lip from her mother smacking her across the month was enough for her to save her breath and any more unnecessary pain. By Lena’s best guess, a payment of three million dollars would be made to her kidnappers in less than twenty-four hours. Another two would be paid with her safe return. She had read the paperwork when she was made CEO, apparently, it was standard for Luthor’s to have their lives threatened. She could hear boots striking the floor outside the empty sounding room. Men patrolling, and, as near as she could tell, one would cross from one door to the other in the room to check her binding. It was getting colder and the dress left too much of her skin exposed. Chills ran down her spine and goosebumps rose along her arms and legs.

Silence stretches on, only timed by the repetitive hard soled shoes striking concrete. Lena’s eyes grew heavy from lack of sleep and the darkness of her blindfold. She dozed, only coming awake every time a knuckle-dragging, brute tightened her ropes. She thought of Kara in the silence. Leaving her, sleeping with Veronica, then never calling. She hoped Kara could forgive her. Or would at least talk to her. Everything was so messed up, her whole life was messed up from the moment the Luthor’s adopted her. Time ticked by slower and slower until Lena couldn't even tell if it was passing or standing still.

Then it all rushed to start again as the first gunshot rang out. Shouting began, distant and muffled but marching closer. Then a different sound. One above her, someone trying to be quiet but the distinct sound of glass being scratched, then a soft thud right in front of her.

Kara lowers herself from the glass ceiling to the floor. Lena sits blindfolded and alone, tied to the chair. Her lip is split and swollen. Lena’s head jerks up at the soft sound of Kara touching down in the large, empty room. Kara switches on the voice modulator in order to hide her shaking voice.

“Shhh, stay quiet now. I’m here to save you.” Lena stiffens at the almost digital voice.

“Power Girl. You can’t be here. It’s a trap. Go Now.” Lena whispers harshly, leaning away as best she could. Kara ignores her and works her pocket knife under the ropes.

“I won’t leave you here.”

“You will. My mother wants you dead. This city needs you.”

Kara’s hands still on the thick rope that she is almost through.

“I need you alive.” Lena’s head blindly turns to Kara’s voice as she whispers from behind her.

“You don’t even know me.” Snap. The rope breaks and Lena reaches up to remove her blindfold.

“I am not going with you,” Lena says and stubbornly crosses her arms, settling back against the hard chair.

“Ms. Luthor, please allow me to get you to safety.” Kara shouldn’t have been surprised by this but she was a little dumbfounded that anyone would choose to stay in the clutches of a criminal organization.

“The moment I stand from this chair, alarms will sound and this place will be flooded with my mother’s heavily armed lackeys with one goal, to kill you.”

“I knew this was a trap for me. Your mother was using you to get to me, but do you hear that? That is the sound of a government organization who wants to imprison your mother for terrorist crimes infiltrating this base.”

“No.”

Kara squats in front of Lena’s chair.

“Lee, trust me please.”

Lena’s eyes snap up to finally meet Kara’s. All Kara can hear is her heart pounding in her ears as she sees the recognition flood Lena’s features. Each heartbeat feels like it stretches out for hours. Kara watches as Lena carefully lifts her hands to Kara’s face, long elegant fingers pulling off her mask. Kara closes her eyes as she waits. Silence.

Blue eyes meet green and Lena knows.

“Kara…” She whispers, more of an escaping thought than a word said aloud. Kara touches the button by her throat to turn off the voice modulator.

“Now will you come with me?” Kara says softly, she holds out her hand and Lena places the mask in her palm. Kara replaces it before holding her hand out again. Lena looks away, biting her lip in that cute way she does when she is really thinking. Without meeting Kara’s eyes again, she places her hand in Kara’s and allows Kara to pull her up. As soon as Lena’s weight leaves the chair, alarms blare and lights flash. Kara begins pulling the flash bang grenades from her utility belt.

“Close your eyes.”

Lena eyes Kara carefully, like a person approaching a wild animal. Lena closes her eyes as the pounding feet and shouts get closer. Kara swiftly pulls the pins on the two grenades and rolls them towards the doors. She pulls the night-night gun from her belt and covers Lena’s head. Each grenade explodes just as the doors open and angry shouts turn to pain and confusion. As the men scramble to try and see again, Kara begins dropping each one with some sort of gun with accuracy that amazes Lena. She switches one clip out for another and continues to fire. Now the men rounding the corner were just tripping over the bodies of their fallen comrades. But soon some did start getting through, closer and closer as more men and some women burst through the two entrances. Some even began to fire their weapons, Kara somehow always between Lena and the bullets.

“And your plan is?” Lena says from behind Kara.

“In process.”

Kara slips behind Lena, throws her last two flash grenades and quickly attaching her rappelling rope to Lena and hitting the button for automatic retraction. Lena lets out a small squeal as she zips up and out of site. James was waiting for her at the top, once he detached her, he used his own rope to descend, bringing Kara’s back down to her. James used his shield to block for her as Kara reattaches the grappling device and ascends as well, James close behind. The conflict still brews below as DEO agents begin following the Cadmus guards into the room. Kara hulls herself over the edge and onto the roof. She sees Lena standing stiffly, far away from the edge, her back was turned and her fists were clenched.

“Lena?”

“Just get me down from here. I-I hate heights.”

Kara nods, even though Lena can’t see her. James just uses the zip line they set up earlier to escape the boundaries of the warehouse fence. Kara walks up slowly behind the woman.

“I’m going to pick you up now. Keep your eyes closed if you want. It will be over before you know it.”

Lena doesn't say anything so Kara takes it as a sign that it's fine. Lena stiffens at kara’s touch but doesn't pull away. Kara wraps one arm around her waist and guides her to the edge, in one swift movement, Kara is lifting Lena and hooking the grappling handle to the line to descend to street level again. She touches down in the alley between two buildings and expects Lena to pull away immediately, but she takes a deep breath before she does. James nods to Kara from his own bike before kicking it into gear and riding off. Kara nods to her own red and blue one when Lena turns to her. Lena huffs a bit then rolls her eyes but walks toward it, getting on after Kara. It feels all too familiar and all too foreign at the same time.

Even though it doesn't look it, whatever Kara is wearing feels like armor, under Lena’s fingers she can feel dents that remind her too much of when bullets hit a wall. Lena’s mind is racing and it's becoming all too much for her sleep-deprived brain. She decides to focus on the soft purr of the bike beneath her while leaning with Kara on each turn. She occasional catches glimpses the armored man she can only assume is the man dubbed Guardian by the news. The passing yellow street lights begin to lull her into a daze as the stars try to shine down through the haze of city light. No moon tonight, Lena notices idley.

Without warning, Kara makes a sharp turn down a ramp and into an underground garage. It takes a moment for Lena’s eyes to adjust to the bright fluorescent lighting emanating from the center of the dark room. Computers take up a large space on one wall, tech is scattered about with abandon as half-finished projects litter any surface not taken up by various weapons and armor. Other available space is taken up by exercise equipment. In a darkened corner Lena thinks she can make out a bed. Kara cuts the bike and the engine stills. She gets off and offers Lena a hand, Lena ignores it and slides off by herself. She sees the back of a mousy brown head that turns to reveal Winn. Guardian lumes behind him, still masked but practically radiating distrust and anger.

“Why would you bring her here?” The distorted voice of the metal man asks.

“Because she deserves to know. Now take off the helmet James.”

Lena watches the man stiffen and practically growl before removing the helmet and slamming it on the table.

“What the hell, Kara?”

“You really didn’t think she could figure out who you are after knowing who I am and then seeing Winn? Get over yourself.”

“I came back to help you .”

“You came back because you want to be a hero. Don’t pretend it was selfless.”

Lena watched as James angrily turns on his heel and walks away. He enters another room and lets the door swing shut behind him. Lena feels extremely awkward and unsure.

Kara takes a deep breath, Lena watches her shoulders rise and fall. As her argument progressed, she had stepped between Lena and James almost protectively. Kara’s hands are clenched into shaking fists, she takes another breath and slowly uncurls her fingers.

“Sorry about that. James and I have not been seeing eye to eye lately, or ever.” Kara turns to face Lena with a half-hearted smile. She takes back off the mask and sets it on a nearby table. Instead of responding to her, Lena turns to Winn.

“Winn, it’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you safe too, Lena.” He grins at her but glances at Kara and decides to make himself scarce. He heads to the staircase leading to what Lena assumes is the floor above. Kara opens her mouth but Lena holds up a finger.

“I need a phone.”

“Why?” Kara asks.

“So that my mother does not end up with three million dollars thanks to my life insurance. Phone, now.”

Kara rushes to give Lena hers, then waits as Lena goes through at least ten security checks varying in voice commands and typed in passwords. It all seems elaborate but considering the amount of money on the line it makes sense. Lena eventually hangs up and hands the phone back. Lena avoids Kara’s eyes and sits in what she can only assume is Winn’s chair. Her head throbs from lack of sleep, and food, and much too information. This was all getting too much to process. Lena can feel Kara watching her, but Lena rubs her eyes hard and takes a deep steadying breath.

“You are Power Girl,” Lena states, trying to wrap her head around it.  Kara nods as Lena's green eyes meet hers. It catches Kara's breath in her throat. Lena takes in the woman who held her heart, who stole it away from her chest before she even agreed to a second date. She stands with hunched shoulders, arms crossed, in her red and blue suit. Her blonde hair is braided and the tail is draped forward over her shoulder. Various dents and scrapes speckle the suit, bullet holes. That is why Kara danced around Lena like a tornado, every bullet fired hit Kara instead of Lena, yet here she stands, not even in pain.

“So all those missed flights, all the calls that were sent to voicemail, you were off saving the world.”

“Yeah,” Kara says softly.

“And… and that night. That was my mother, wasn't it? She did that to you. She made you miss your flight. And I…” Lena swallows hard and loses her voice as she pieces together the gaps in everything. Tears spring to Lena's eyes.

“We had finally found a Cadmus base. They were making a bomb. I was calling Alex for back up-”

“Alex?”

“Yes. She works for a secret government organization tasked with taking down Cadmus.” Lena rubs her temples. Her headache is pounding.

“So while I was calling Alex, I saw your mother walk into the room from my vantage point. I just knew she was the head of Cadmus once I saw her. She was going to get away before the strike team could come. I decided James and I could stall that long. But we couldn't. I lost conscience and woke up in a black ops site infirmary a couple days later. By then, I was too late.”

Silence falls heavy on the pair. The darkness of the room seems to be trying to suck out the lights that they sit under. It stretches for minutes. Lena hears Kara take a breath but before she can speak her phone rings.

“Alex?” Kara says into the speaker. A muffled reply.

“You want me to bring her to the DEO?... Yes… Okay…. See you in fifteen.” Kara hangs up.

“They need to debrief you on your kidnapping. Also, Alex wants you to be examined and make sure none of your injuries are life-threatening.”

Lena just nods and stands to follow Kara back to her bike. Lena can take in the sleek design now that there is light. This time Kara takes the time to hand her a spare helmet before hopping on. As soon as Kara grips the handles, the bike purrs to life. Lena is impressed. She may have not been interested in technology these past few years but this looks very high tech. Lena climbs on behind the blonde vigilante and resigns herself to more hours without sleep.

Kara takes more turns than Lena can count and after the first dizzying few, Lena closes her eyes and rests her head against Kara's back. She feels Kara stiffen slightly before relaxing. All too soon Kara pulls into a nondescript garage and is helping Lena off and supporting the sleepy brunette as they walk to the elevator. Everything else is very dreamlike as Lena fights to stay conscious. She is aware of figures in black moving about the most open space as Kara practically carries her to a central command desk.

“Kara!” A familiar voice calls. Lena tries to focus on the fuzzy face and recognizes Alex.

“What the hell happened to her? Why didn't you bring her here first?”

“I think she's just tired. And I wasn't sure if the secret government organization tasked with taking down the Luthor's would want me to bring a Luthor into it.”

Lena struggles to stand fully on her own two feet and focus her eyes. How many days has it been now? Two? Three?

“Agent. I have been drugged, tied up, kept without food and minimal water. Also, I don't know the last time I slept. So, if we could move along with whatever you want to do, by all means.” Lena is impressed with how clear her voice is.

“Come on. I want to examine you, we will get you a change of clothes, some food, and a bed. Once you've slept, my director would like to debrief you personally.” The redhead sounds cold but the idea of food and a bed is too much.

They stick Lena inside of some sort of on-duty room after Alex is sure her injuries are minor. It has a bathroom with a shower, a bed, and a small television. She takes the opportunity to rinse off at least some of the grime from the past couple of days and reemerges to a change of black sweats and black long sleeve shirt, both emblazoned with some sort of eagle logo. Gratefully, she puts those on and throws the ruined dress in the small trash bin. A soft knock and a man also dressed in all black is handing her a tray with a sandwich, chips, and a bottle of apple juice. Lena hardly gets halfway through it all before the bed is calling too loudly. The mattress is lumpy, the sheets scratchy, but her body doesn't care. It had been too long.

February 25th, 2018

In the morning, Lena meets the Director. A very serious man named John Jones. He asks a bunch of questions, most of which Lena has no answer for. She directs him to her CFO, reassuring him that Jess will be open with him in sharing the information he needs. Lena is released and an Agent is assigned to take her to the hotel of her request, A protection detail was also following in the car behind, they would stay with her until her mother was found. She had somehow slipped away in the chaos.

Despite being told she had slept twelve hours, Lena was exhausted. All she wanted to do was crawl into her bed back in London where she felt safe and loved with the Arias women. She slides her card into the door and when the light turns green she escapes into the room as men take up position outside the door.

“Lena!”Jess exclaims and throws her arms around Lena before she can even let the door swing shut.

“Jess!” Lena tightens her arms around her CFO and soaks up the warmth of someone who has always told her the truth, even when it hurt.

After a few moments Jess seems to recollect herself and tries to pull away but Lena tightens her hold.

“I am so glad to see you,” Lena says softly.

“I was so worried when we got word that you were missing. I thought… and God I hate that I thought it… that maybe you went off the deep end of a bender.”

“Well, that does sound like me. But no. No drugs, not since I moved in with Sam and Ruby.”

Finally, Lena pulls back and lets Jess go. Her former assistant walks further into the room and hands her a change of pajamas that were already laid out next to a change of clothes for the next day. A new phone is charging on the hotel desk. Jess catches Lena eyeing it as Lena buttons up the sleep shirt.

“Don’t worry. I pulled your last backup from right before you left London.”

Lena nods and stifles a yawn. Jess ushers her to the bed and actually tucks her in. Lena is too tired to be embarrassed to care as Jess strokes her hair back before turning off the lamp.

[skz-jinnie]

drunkie｜h.j.s.

Member: Jisung

Genre(s): fluff

Word Count: 847

Warnings: none

Request: “32,7, and 2 exactly in that order withhhhhhh jisung. please and thank you sweetcakess💖💖”

Prompt(s): “I’m seriously not that drunk” “Can we get a dog?” “Exactly how drunk was I?”

Summary: drunk Jisung

April 24th, 2019. Stray Kids’ first music show win.

You, together with Jisung and the rest of Stray Kids with their partners, were in the best korean bbq place in town (well, according to you, at least). Empty bottles of soju and shot glasses were scattered on your table, and the ambiance of the place was filled with the group’s continuous laughter.

Hours have gone by and the energy of the place still kept its pace, with Jisung’s lame jokes, Felix’s mosquito voice, and Jeongin’s dolphin screams which sent all of you into intense laughter. A couple more hours have gone by, and it’s 2am. The chauffeur takes you and Jisung to your apartment, since you swore to yourself that Jisung was not gonna last an hour in the dorms when he was this drunk, and he was definitely not going to be able to drive.

You walk to your unit with Jisung on your back, his feet dragging along the floor. You struggle to unlock your front door, but you managed to do it without bothering your wasted boyfriend. You lay him on the couch and he looks at you with tired eyes.

“Oh, it’s Y/N,” he smiles and chuckles whilst lazily pointing a finger at you, unable to reach your face. He’s lucky you love him. Because if you didn’t, you would have left him sitting there in the small empty restaurant.

Jisung stands from the couch and walks towards the front door, wanting to exit. You chase him and stick your back on the door as to not let him step out. “Where are you going, Sungie?,” you ask him with a warm smile on your face. “T-the practice rooooom, babe,” Your eyebrows furrow from confusion. “Chan-hyung’s waiting for meeee,” he continues to slur. “No he’s not and you’re too drunk anyways,” you say, grabbing his hand to settle him on the couch once again. You sit adjacent to him and hear him murmur. “What was it, baby?” you ask, placing your hand on his thigh. “I’m seriously not that drunk, I said,” he slurs. You smile whilst brushing his bangs up his head. “Yes you are, Jiji, now go wash up,” you say. “I’m nnnnoooottttt,” he whines and pouts. “Okay, okay, you’re not. Now to the bathroom. Clean yourself up, mmkay, Jiji?” you say. Jisung chuckles oh-so-cutely at the nickname you love giving him. “Mmkay,” he says and walks towards your bedroom. “Good boy,” you coo, tapping his butt in the process.

He finishes washing up and you tuck him in. “Good night, baby,” you coo, squeezing his cheeks. “Nnnnight,” he says, still in a drunken state. You chuckle and wash yourself up as well.

You finish taking a shower and approach your bedroom when you hear sniffles from the other side of your bed. You hop on the bed and look over to see Jisung crying as if he could fill a bucket with his tears. By instinct, you rub his back. “Are you okay, Sungie?” you ask, obviously concerned. He whines and pulls you close so that he’s snuggled on your chest. “Can we get a dog?” Jisung asks, not bothering to look up at you. You almost snort but giggle instead. “Is that what you were crying for?” you ask. “Mmmyeah,” he looks you in the eyes and pouts. “Sorry baby, we cant. You can barely take care of yourself,” you reason out whilst cupping his cheeks with both your hands. Jisung buries himself in your chest once again and sobs more. He can’t get any cuter than this. “Sorry, baby,” you whisper and place a kiss on his head.

Not many minutes later, you feel your boyfriends heartbeat and breath slow down. You pull him away yo see if he was asleep — and he was. Soon after, you trailed him off to dreamland.

The next morning came quickly. You woke up much earlier than the hungover boy to cook him some hangover soup. You re-entered your bedroom carrying a tray of the soup and a glass of water. You saw he was awake and told him to sit up so that he could drink the hangover cure. “Thank you,” he said, showing that gummy smile. “Welcome baby,” you said, placing a swift kiss on his forehead. You took a set on the area of the bed in front of the tray and watched him eat. He looked at you and put his spoon down. “Exactly how drunk was I?” he asked.

“Well, I really struggled to put you to bed, that’s first. Then I went to wash up and when I finished, I saw you crying your eyes out,” you explained. Jisung cocks his head. “Why?” he asks curiously. “You really don’t remember?” you ask him whilst giggling.

“You wanted a dog. And when I told you we couldn’t get one since you’re a child yourself, you cried more, hence the puffy eyes,” you explained further, squeezing Jisung’s cheeks as you stroke his undereyes. Jisung’s eyes widen and runs to look at the bathroom mirror.

*cue Jisung’s scream*

——

m.list and p.list can both be found in my bio :>

——

a/n

suuuuper long overdue n i’m really sorry:( decided to post this b4 late part 3 <3 enjoy:)

also YES I USED JIJI AND I WILL NEVER (i can’t stress this enough) STOP NOW

[writing-royza]

Tainted Blood, Tainted Soul: Chapter Twenty-three - Just a Name on the List

A/N: Happy Sunday, everyone! I hope you all enjoyed last week's big reveal. A big shoutout to Fanfiction.net reader fallenangel7583, who was posting her theories in the reviews, and managed to figure it out a few months ago! Congratulations, honey, I'm super proud of you! Clearly I need to make things more difficult ;) Enjoy this week's chapter, folks!

I do not own FMA.

Chapter Twenty-three - Just a Name on the List

UNINHABITED ZONE, CITY OF JADAD, ISHVAL

0322 HOURS, APRIL 24TH

She moved carefully in the deepest of the shadows, approaching the inhabited areas of the city for the second time that night. Kimblee was some four hundred metres away to her right, on his own hunt, and she would rather he not know she had followed him. He had wanted to hunt, and while Riza did not particularly care if he did or did not feed on the unsuspecting population… she also knew that his usual method of attack mean the prey never got back up again.

And if similar murders to those in Central and East City happened here, the military was bound to get themselves involved. More people watching, more people combing the city for her and Kimblee… more chances of being caught.

So she trailed him from a great enough distance, keeping a tight leash on her thoughts so that he wouldn't clue in to the fact she had not, in fact, stayed at the inn hideaway. She would know from the uptick in his own openly broadcasted thoughts when or if he found prey, and would hurry to stop him from killing outright, if she could. It was all about sustainability: sustainable food sourcing and sustainable secrecy.

Coming to the edge of the inhabited area, she took to the roofs once again, traversing them with the same light, carefree footing as a cat. The augmented strength in her legs allowed her to jump from one to the next in leaps that thrilled her heart, her brain growing giddy on the adrenaline —

No. Focus. She checked Kimblee's mental state, found him already in the quiet, anticipatory mental space that signalled he was stalking prey. Gritting her teeth, Riza turned her steps in that direction, weaving between stone chimneys and traversing the traditionally flat-topped roofs with quickening speed. She clamped down harder on her own mental broadcasting, imagining her thoughts kept hidden under a camouflaged dome as she picked up her pace ever farther.

The stucco, brick, and stone under her bare feet held no vestiges of warmth from the day's sun, though she barely felt the nighttime chill as she ran. Sand and grit whirled in her wake, kicked up by her passage.

She came upon him in an alley so dark that it was nearly pitch-black, just as he was dragging the stunned body of a young woman from the revealing torchlight in the street. She struggled feebly, small distressed noises issuing from her throat despite the hand clamped across her mouth.

Riza let her mental walls drop, evidencing her anger and distaste for what Kimblee was up to. He froze instantly, his head jerking up, but it was too late. Her feet hit the ground in front of the would-be victim, the two of them glaring at each other over the prostrate body between them.

"Lieutenant, do you mind?" he asked in vague annoyance. "I'm in the middle of dinner, and it's rather rude to interrupt someone at mealtime."

"I'm not stopping you," she pointed out, drawing herself up to her full height. "I'm supervising. I'd like to make sure she goes home when you're done, instead of adding another murder charge to the ones you've accumulated already."

His teeth glittered against the dark backdrop behind him as he grinned. "Is that all? You wouldn't perhaps like to… share? One drink, two straws, so to speak?"

The look she gave him was pure disdain. "I'm perfectly capable of hunting for myself, thank you. Without creating more competition or leaving bodies lying around afterward."

Kimblee scowled. "Competition? What are you talking about?"

Riza's smile was practically acidic. No teeth showed, but her eyes glared daggers as she spoke. "The bite of a vampire is what starts the transformation, although it's very slow. The morning after you bit me for the first time, I began noticing changes, although I passed it off as still recovering from my wounds on the Promised Day."

She slid forward a few steps, standing over the girl on the ground. Her eyes were open, still slightly glassy-looking — no doubt from Kimblee's mental influence — but more coherent than they had been a moment ago. Riza spared her one glance, but no more. "Every other person you've hunted, you've killed when you fed on them. That's lucky, since if you had just bit and sucked the blood, leaving them alive, they would have slowly been turned until they were — after several weeks, I'm guessing — a fully-fledged vampire. Or as close as you can get without drinking your blood in return."

"Creating competition," he said slowly, her point dawning on him. "For food sources, for territory…." His eyes quickly traced her form, but not quickly enough to escape her notice. "For mates…. And how do you suggest we prevent this then? How do we feed without biting?" His quick smile returned, his eyes flicking slyly to the woman at their feet. "Are you sure you wouldn't like a new sister?"

"Very sure," she shot back, crouching low over the woman's hips. "As for not biting… I can show you."

The woman began to struggle again as Riza's hand fisted in the front of her dress, pulling her partially into a sitting position. Riza smiled sweetly, her free hand gently stroking the other's cheek as she sent forward soothing thoughts, willing the fear away. She exuded reassurance, like a parent calming a child after a nightmare… and watched as the terror leached out of the woman's eyes, her tense muscles relaxing.

The soft strokes moved from her cheek to trail down her neck… and when the woman didn't react, Riza pressed her thumbnail into the skin, drawing down to open a cut. The only reaction was a soft gasp that quickly subsided until Riza's mental touch, and blood pooled quickly on the skin.

She looked up. "And there you have it. With our strength, puncturing the skin with just a fingernail is no great feat, and as long as you don't start licking like a dog, she'll remain fully human. Perhaps it's not quite as dramatic as what you were intending, but it's better than creating a whole passel of other vampires to contend with."

Settled cross-legged on the ground, Kimblee pulled the body of the bleeding woman toward him. "Very innovative. And how many have you hunted this way?"

The hunger twisted in her stomach at the sight and smell of the blood, and she averted her eyes in the pretense of looking out for witnesses. "None. I've been a little busy since I turned fully, and haven't exactly had time to hunt."

He tsked, lifting his mouth from the still-oozing cut. "That's not healthy, my dear, you need to keep up your strength. Skipping meals is never a good idea, whether human or vampire." He shook his head in reproach. "Honestly, you'll make yourself ill if you don't eat properly."

Annoyed, she pushed to her feet, turning toward the alley exit. "I make myself ill just being around you," she fired back. "Make sure you don't kill her; we'd have the population down on our heads faster than we could blink, and even we can't fight back if the numbers are overwhelming."

She didn't hear his response as she turned the corner onto the deserted street and bolted off into the night. Her teeth gritted. Of all the men to be turned into a vampire and fixate on me… it had to be him. She had never liked Kimblee even before it was made abundantly obvious that he was mentally unstable. He was arrogant, he was rude, he was utterly deaf to the feelings of those around him—

Her stomach twisted again, hurting a little this time with hunger pangs, and Riza grimaced. Unfortunately for her, this time, he was also right. She needed to find some form of sustenance.

What little information Scar and Miles had managed to impart to them on the day's travel between the welcoming party's interception and arriving in Jadad had said that the inhabited parts of the city were divided according to family demographic. Families in one area, single women in another, single men in yet another…. Now if she could simply remember where each section was….

The market where she had stolen her abaya was more or less in the centre of the three housing districts, and she would have passed over the family dwellings to get to it. From there… if she remembered correctly, the single women were placed in homes to the north, and single men were placed to the south. Travelling west as she was, she turned to her left, angling off through the streets and allowing the shadows to swallow her.

INHABITED ZONE, CITY OF JADAD, ISHVAL

0413 HOURS, APRIL 24TH

He was mildly surprised that he had managed to any sleep at all, and that the five hours he had gotten hadn't been fitful or interrupted by dreams. Roy supposed he ought to feel grateful for that much… but right now, he couldn't bring himself to feel much more than just tired.

The small single-family house he had been directed to for the duration of the trip was dark and quiet as he moved from his bedroom to the small bathroom. It was quiet outside as well; it was even too early for the city's merchants, bakers, and craftspeople to be up and preparing for their day.

Two minutes later, standing at the sink, Roy watched the water flow over his hands and debated the usefulness of trying to go back to bed. He doubted he would sleep more; his mind was already too hard at work. And if he wouldn't sleep, he was liable just to lie there and worry about Riza.

He dried his hands, and returned to the bedroom, but it was to turn on the light and reach for his clothes. If he were awake anyway, he might as well do something useful and try to get some work done. There wasn't much else he could do, he reasoned, pulling the tunic over his head and belting it at the waist with the traditional Ishvalan sash.

Riza was out of his reach, at least for now. Miles and Scar wouldn't be up and about for a couple of hours yet, along with the rest of the city. He was on his own for the time being, but that didn't mean he had to be idle.

The sound of the kettle beginning to boil in the kitchen as he leaned against the counter next to a waiting mug was welcome and familiar. Something that hearkened to early mornings on better days. He smiled, picturing Riza leafing briefly through the East City Times as she waited for the water to heat for her morning tea. Her hair falling around her face in a sleek blonde curtain, his shirt covering her to her hips, her bare feet padding across the floorboards to the stove….

He shook his head to clear the images, dragging himself back to the present to the strident whistle of the kettle. He lifted it from the burner and switched it off, before pouring the hot liquid into the mug, watching the teabag bob to the surface.

He had never been much for tea before Riza started as his assistant. After that, he had seen her drink a cup of the stuff every morning until he had finally been curious enough to explore the drink himself. She had taught him to like it, and in the six-month separation before the Promised Day, he had almost given up coffee in favour of it, to feel even slightly closer to her.

Now, she was gone again and he was here, drinking tea without her.

He opened the front door of the little house into the cool, predawn darkness, thinking that it might be relaxing just to sit outside and watched city wake up. Before he was two steps out, however, his stomach gurgled insistently. Apparently, breakfast was on the agenda as well.

Setting the mug of tea on a small bench to one side of the door, Roy returned inside. He retrieved a pair of flat, rectangular biscuits from a box Miles had pointed out to him on the counter. The Ishvalan label was indecipherable to him, but the Major had said they were some kind of breakfast treat – mildly sweet, some kind of oat, dried fruit, and honey mixture that most Ishvalans went crazy for. Either way, it was likely they went well with tea.

When he returned outside, however, the mug of tea was gone.

Roy stood very still, staring at the spot where he was positive he had left the cup. It wasn't on the ground, he hadn't taken it with him back inside, so where….

"Oh dammit, it's you."

His head snapped back as he looked to the roof, eyes widening. Sitting perched on the edge, the mug of tea cradled in both hands, was Riza. Her face was set in a mixture of mild surprise and strong annoyance, glaring at him over the rim of the cup. "I thought," she said frostily, "that you were some early-rising dad coming outside to avoid waking the kiddos and your wife…. Easy prey, and not very common at this hour. But I suppose I was wrong."

It's all right; she can't attack you as long as you have — A cold chill gripped his spine as he realized that he had left the protective charm pouch in his bedroom. Unused to wearing it, he had forgotten about it completely… and was now wide open. Forcing himself to keep his cool, he broke a piece from one biscuit and bit into it. "Sorry to disappoint you. Out for breakfast, are you?"

"More like dinnertime for me," she corrected, almost languidly. "And no…If I were hunting now, it would qualify more like dessert. I've already had my main course, so to speak."

Roy felt the colour drain out of his face. "I see. Would you mind telling me where, so that some innocent civilian doesn't stumble across the crime scene and scare themselves half to death?"

She laughed, a genuinely merry sound that still managed to raise hairs on the back of his neck. "You're thinking of K —" She seemed to stop herself, losing her humour almost instantly. "…of my sire's method of hunting," she continued after a brief hesitation. "Personally, I try not to kill my victims, or to spread vampirism around by biting indiscriminately. And I've made sure that he is willing to do the same."

"That's a bit like closing the barn door once the horse escapes, isn't it?"

"Yes, but it benefits us as well as you." She took an appreciative sip from the mug. "Mmm. Very nice. Really cleanses the palate. Anyway, as long as we don't create new vampires and don't go about murdering people for their blood, I really think we can learn to coexist. Maybe a couple people get snacked on each night, but I would think most people would rather that than an all-out murder spree, don't you?"

He gritted his teeth at the insolence in her tone. "Somehow, I don't think everyone will be dancing in the streets at that proposition."

"Well, no, of course not. But it's got to be better than the alternative. That's my whole point."

They were both quiet for a moment, listening to the lack of city sound all around them, before Roy swallowed his latest bite of breakfast biscuit. "Sounded like you almost gave a name to your… your 'sire,' you said? Why the anonymity?"

She looked down at him from her perch for a moment before taking a nonchalant last sip from the cup. "Because I figure that if he wants you to know who he is, he'll reveal himself to you in time. It's not really my place to do so." She tossed her hair back over one shoulder. "Suffice it to say that he's no friend of yours: never has been, probably never will. And maybe that's for the best."

She dropped to the ground, setting the empty cup on the bench. "Thanks for the drink. See you around, fire boy."

"Hold on a second." Just as passed him, Roy reached out and caught her by the arm. The fabric of the sleeve was cool under his palm, her muscles shifting minutely as she tensed and turned to glare at him. "What really brought you here? Were you looking for me specifically?"

The glare softened somewhat, though she threw a distrustful glance at his hand on her arm. "No, what I told you was true. I was on my way back to my little hideaway, saw a lone man out by himself and thought he might be easy prey for a light snack. You're just lucky enough it was you." She tugged gently. "You can let go of me now."

"…I see." His eyes went to the white linen as he let go and she took a step back. "Nice dress."

Riza beamed, purple eyes smiling up at him from under blonde lashes. "You think so? I needed something a little more me than that plain brown thing, so I thought I'd treat myself. Not a bad choice, as it turns out." Her smile turned sly, showing teeth. "But I bet you'd still like what's under it even more."

Not much made Roy Mustang blush, but the look of pure lasciviousness in those strange purple eyes certainly did. He took a step back, distancing himself, careful to keep his tone cool and unaffected. "The face is right, but the mind isn't," he shot back. "Call me when it's the real Riza at the reins, not you."

She stood hipshot, her arms folded as she watched him with an amused expression. "Oh, come on. You're really that much of a purist that you can't even allow yourself one little indulgence? Do you think it'd be cheating, somehow?" Her grin broadened. "Same body, same hair, same lips, same… everything. Well, maybe except the eyes, but that's straying toward semantics." She shrugged, trailing a step toward him. "But other than that, aside from acting a little differently… can't you just accept that this is still essentially the pretty little lady that gets you all hot and bothered?"

"The body is only part of it," he answered, trying to ignore the heat gathering on the back of his neck at the sound of her voice, the lithe movements, the teasing lift of those familiar lips…. "The rest is a person's soul and spirit, and yours isn't Riza. You told me yourself that you're suppressing hers."

The strange creature with Riza's face drew another step closer, and when he went to retreat, he found himself literally backed against the wall of the house. Long, cool fingers stroked his cheek, her index coming to rest on his lips. "Don't be silly," she chided gently, drawing close to press lightly against him. "You're putting far too much thought into this. It's just sex, fire boy, nothing terribly new to you." Her free hand trailed low, over the front of the loose desert pants; her teeth showed at what she found there. "You can't tell me you're not at least a little bit interested."

If blushing was rare, physical violence toward a woman was unheard of… yet it didn't stop him from planting a hand on either of her shoulders and shoving hard. The vampiress, caught off-guard, staggered backward several steps and was lucky enough not to trip on the hem of her white dress.

"Seems to me that there's one of your own kind you could get that kind of attention from," he pointed out, though he hated the words the moment he said them. He knew it wasn't Riza, but to encourage the thing in her body to go after another man… well, not a man exactly, but another male….

"He and I don't exactly see eye to eye," she scoffed. "Riza never liked him, and strong dislike like that tends to bleed through the barrier between personalities… and the only reason he wants her is to hurt you." She paused, eyeing him thoughtfully. "Although… perhaps it would be a fitting punishment for turning me down. Maybe I will let him have a little fun."

That same cold chill returned, this time grasping his stomach in icy fingers. What had he just done. "Wait a minute… you said that this guy… none of us ever liked each other, and yet he's using her to hurt me." Those amethyst eyes turned unreadable, and he had the sense she felt she had given too much away. "You almost said his name before, but cut yourself off after one letter. You won't tell me, but what if I guess?"

She shrugged, the motion too nonchalant to be genuine uncaring. "So what if you do?"

Roy gritted his teeth. "King Bradley?"

For a long moment, she was very still, still watching him closely. "That's a nice little bit of deduction," she commented at last.

"Only if I'm right. Am I?"

Another shrug. "Maybe you are and maybe you aren't," she answered cryptically. Glancing skyward, she turned to head north along the deserted street. "We may have to continue this another time. The sun will be coming up before long, and I'd like to be safely indoors by then." She tossed a finger-wave over her shoulder. "Have a nice day, Colonel."

"Hey, hang on a —"

But the words were left echoing around the street as she bolted at terrific speed off into the shadows, veering sharply down a sidestreet and out of sight. Roy sank to a seat on the little bench against the wall, dropping his head into one hand as belated nervous shivers ran the length of his spine and back again.

She wasn't alone anymore. And her new partner in crime — whether it was Bradley or not — was every bit as deadly as she was.

RECONSTRUCTION OUTPOST OFFICE

0523 HOURS, APRIL 24TH

Roy had to pound on the locked door of the outpost office for nearly three minutes before Miles finally opened. The usually put-together Major was, for once, disheveled by sleep and still blinking the last vestiges of it from his eyes. Belting a robe around his waist and shaking his long, loose white hair back behind his shoulders, he frowned at the tense man on the doorstep.

"Colonel? What —"

"Don't ask questions, just let me in." The tone of his voice left no room for argument. Miles stepped back immediately, his soldier's training temporarily overriding his fatigue. Once through the door, Roy nudged him aside, turning to firmly shut and re-bolt it.

Any trace of tiredness was rapidly vanishing. "Sir, I know you said no questions, but what the he** is going on?"

"I had a visit from our mutual friend. Less than an hour ago." He turned, running a hand back through his hair in agitation. "It might be a bit early, but have you got any of that liquor from the other night?" His grin was lopsided but strengthless. "I need something to take the shake out of my legs."

"Sure." Starting for the stairs, Miles pointed to the paper-littered desk. "The bottle is in there. I'm going to grab some clothes, and send someone to get Scar. He'll want to hear about this as well."

Roy had the desk drawer open by the time Miles' footsteps reach the second floor. The bottle was just over halfway full, the clear liquid sloshing up the sides and making a tinkling sound where it hit the cap. Roy settled his fingers on it to open it… and froze. He could hear Riza's voice — her actual voice, not the sultry, dangerous tones of the thing in her body — admonishing him.

Really, sir? Don't you think that an alcohol chaser for breakfast sends the wrong message? His conscience yet again, in reality, not just as her own joke.

He lowered the bottle, watching the room's dim lighting reflecting off the shifting liquor. He had thought that he had left this particular urge behind during the long lead-up to the Promised Day: the urge to try and quite literally drown his sorrows. Oddly enough, it had been his own mother, his regular supplier of professionally served alcohol, that had pointed out the flaw in that logic.

Alcohol kills your brain cells, boy. And if you're going to figure your way out of this situation, you haven't got many you can lose. That grim stare and red-painted lips hovered in his memory, along with the wagging finger of reproach.

"’If there's a drink in your glass, you'd better pray it's water,’" he muttered to himself as footsteps sounded again from the stairs. A young warrior priest — one of the guards from the yantir, Roy recognized — bolted down two steps at a time and out the front door in seconds, Miles returning only a moment later, still tying the sash of his tunic. Red eyes glanced at the bottle still in Roy's hand.

"Feeling better, sir?"

"Actually, I think I'll take a raincheck on that drink. Save it for celebration when we get the upper hand in this whole mess." He dropped the bottle back into the drawer and shut it firmly. "That was your messenger?"

Miles nodded. "The two of us — you and I — have each been assigned a guard until we sort this all out. Yours was told to remain as unobtrusive as possible, so he was staying in the vacant house behind yours." He frowned. "Though I wonder how it was that he missed the Lieutenant's so-called visit."

"We would have been on the opposite side of the house, and probably out of his view," Roy answered. "How long until Scar gets here, do you think?"

"It shouldn't be long. Ten minutes, maybe."

True to his word, when the door opened ten minutes later, it was Scar who entered followed by the guard-messenger. He dismissed the younger man with a nod, moving to the small dining area where Roy and Miles waited at the typically low Ishvalan-style table. Each held a fresh cup of tea, with a third waiting for the large man.

"I was of the opinion that most Amestrians, even soldiers, don't generally start the day until at least six," he commented dryly, setting himself at his place.

"Personally, it's usually five or five-thirty for me, though there's not a lot I wouldn't give for six." The wry humour helped to ease Roy's tension somewhat, but a good percentage of it still remained, nestled in a knot between his shoulder blades. "I appreciate you coming so quickly."

"There was very good reason." Lifting his cup, Scar watched him over the rim. "What happened?"

Taking a deep breath, Roy wrapped both hands around his own cup, welcoming the warmth. "I couldn't sleep, so I got up, thinking I would take my breakfast outside, in the fresh air, where I could try to relax and think about the kind of work that has to be done here. Both with the Hawkeye situation and the reconstruction. I went back inside for something and when I came back out, she was waiting for me."

Miles frowned. "Was she… well, did she try to…." Clearly not sure what words to use, he simply pointed to his neck.

"No… though she mentioned she had already been out… the term she used was hunting. From the sounds of it, she'd… fed."

Scar lowered his cup, outwardly calm but the instant alertness showing in his eyes. "Meaning that somewhere out there is another victim. Like the others in Central and East City?"

Roy shook his head quickly. "No, no, I had the same thought, believe me. She assured me that she has no interest in hunting the way the killer does, that she had found a way to… to make it less destructive for the victim. To even keep them from being turned as she was." He raised his hands as both men opened their mouths at the same time. "Don't ask me how; she didn't go that far into specifics.

She also confirmed that the vampire who turned her — she called him a 'sire' — arrived last night, and that she thought she had probably convinced him to stop ripping his victims apart in favour of her method." He grimaced. "That's the good news. The bad news is that he is indeed here and we now have him to contend with as well."

Taking a contemplative sip, Miles spoke up. "I don't suppose she gave this sire a name? Whether or not it's the same as he had in life, it would at least give us something to call him."

"Well… yes and no." Roy began slowly spinning the cup on the table, watching the way the movement rippled the liquid inside. "She started to say his name, and then thought better of it. All I got was a letter that sounded like 'kuh.' Like a K or a hard C." He gave each of them a significant look. "She also told me that this guy knows us, has never liked us, and we've never liked them." A shrug. "I've made my fair share of enemies, but very few of them have names that start with a sound like that."

"Did you venture a guess?" Scar asked, his face and voice deceptively calm.

"Yeah. King Bradley." He shook his head. "She wouldn't confirm or deny, though. She had already said too much."

"Hmm." The big man was silent a moment, contemplating, then said, "It may not be Bradley."

They waited, but he did not elaborate, merely alternating between sipping at his tea and staring into the depths of the cup. Finally, Miles pressed, "And why do you say that?"

"The Colonel asked Lieutenant Hawkeye if this new persona was that of a Homonculus," Scar pointed out. "She was insulted by the idea; called them 'freaks.'" The broad shoulders lifted and fell in an expressive shrug. "If her sire were King Bradley, he would not harbour the same hatred. Hatred that it is fair to assume she inherited from her sire."

Roy nodded slowly as it sank in. "If Bradley were the sire, he would have pride in this new form, but no animosity for what he was before. Same for if it were any other Homonculus, which means we're looking in a completely different direction."

Miles gave a half-felt smile. "Just how long is that list of enemies, Colonel?"

"A month ago? Too long. Now, the majority of them are gone, thanks to the Promised Day." Roy sat back, bracing himself on both hands. "The Homonculi, their Father, the Command Council, that doctor that was working for them —" He stopped, one thought occurring with a weight that settled, heavy and dark, in his chest.

"…Somebody that knows Hawkeye and myself," he repeated slowly. "Somebody that never liked either of us, somebody that we never liked… somebody that would be just fine with using her to get to me…."

He saw the light of recognition dawn in both their faces at the same time. A man they both knew as well; a man they had every reason to hate just as much as he did. It was Miles that voiced the name.

"Fucking Kimblee."