#he needs air tags for his things the way he’s a professional thing looser

[hyunpic]

hyunjin on bubble: the name of this airpod is mayfly. i lost the case so if the battery is over then it's a goodbye. so i'm leaving one last picture as a memory before its last flight. the battery is at 77%. hang in there mayfly! [translation credit. spearhyunnie]

[alexlabhont]

I didn’t mean to fall in love with you

Chapter Eight.

Book: Queen B - Choices (Universe)

Pairing:  Poppy Min-Sinclair x Trans!Male MC (Beck Hughes)

Genre: Canon re-write (Because I can)

Rating: Anyone can read it, really

Tags: @dopeyouth @theymakemegayer @save-me-the-last-dance @poppysmc (If anyone want to be tagged in, just tell me)

This is me trying to write by and for the Trans community, specially FTM community, meaning, trans guys, but I actually took the liberty to use They/them pronouns for everyone out there who´s interested (Also, the name Beck was the most neutral one I could find, trying to use the cannon Bea Hughes)

If you have any comment, PLEASE BE RESPECTFULL and patient with me. This is also my first english fanfic and english is not my mother language, so... i’m sorry fo the grammar errors

CHAPTERS 

Chapter seven

ONE-SHOTS 

Just a dance (Zoey x MC)

—————————————————————— 

When Poppy told that guy to send a pic of her and Farmsville kissing to The T, she wasn't trying anything but to declare a message, to make clear to everyone in Belvoire, especially to that Wonder Warden Wade of theirs, one little thing: Beck was hers now.

But no.

As usual, things with Beck were completely out of her control, whenever Poppy did zig, somehow Beck always managed to do zag. And this time "Zag" were lots of photos where Beck was hanging out, laughing and even hugging Zoey Wade. Sharing classes, walking side by side. Being together.

Students were talking, The T was speculating. That girl’s happy face making fun of her right from inside the photos and that stupid threat of hers didn’t. Leave. Her. Mind! That New Money was winning, and there it was just one person to blame: Beck Hughes.

So when she finally saw them in the hallway, she was decided to tear them down for good, hiding behind her reputation, behind a failed plan, when she knew deep down herself that she was mad for something else… Sometime hurtful…

But it all went down to shit when what she saw a few seconds later was Beck’s back hitting hard against the wall, and that stupid animal grabbing them by the clothes. For a moment, she completely forgot how to breathe, a loud gasp taking all the air in her lungs, and the pain and rage clutched her heart with such a lightning force and speed that Poppy couldn’t understand; all she knew was she couldn't stop looking at the scene, wanting so badly to be in the middle just to kick his balls so hard that they'll stop working forever. The strawberry blonde really tried to end the fight sooner, but that bunch of assholes that Belvoire had as students started to stand around as disgusting moths, hungry for a fight, so the last thing Poppy saw of the attack for a moment were Beck’s smile and then the pain written all over their face.

And that was it.

She could feel her blood boiling, something weird taking over her body. She was familiar to this feeling, the blonde felt it each time Farmsville proved to be a pain in her ass… but this one's was stronger, deeper, and incontrollable. Her nails were eager to meet Carleton's face until nobody could recognize him ever again. But when she finally got there it was Beck who was doing her job, smashing their fists against his face over and over, growling each time. A quick twist.

Naturally, that bastard was expelled latter that day, everyone totally noticed it because… well… she had her ways. And although it was one less problem without him, that didn’t make up for Beck’s rib.

Yes, she literally dragged them to the hospital to get that X-ray, what was that I'm-Tough-I'm-fine shit? Who were them? Rambo? Beck had that stupid frown through all the way, like a spoiled baby, but it didn't matter, because now everyone was sure that Beck didn't have a broken rib. They were fine.

“Told you.”

“I don't fucking care, Hughes. Now hold that tongue of yours, would you?” The silence she asked for only lasted two seconds.

“You know I told you.”

“Oh, my god. What are you, five?” she rolled her eyes quickly. “Why are you so mad about it anyways? Of course I needed to know if you were ok!”

“I told you I was fine!”

“You’re not a fucking doctor!” Neither of them giving a shit about the driver hearing the conversation. “You don't have anything to prove when it comes to your health!”

She said, why it was not basic information? Why was it something so hard to swallow?

“Poppy?” God, this one just won't stop, right?

“What now?” The blonde didn't even bother to look at them, focusing her attention to what was outside the window.

“You’re right.” Wait what? “I shouldn't be upset about it. After all... You were just taking care of me, so… Thank you.”

Poppy will never admit it to anyone… but that weird but honest and beautiful smile she received made her tremble a little~ bit. Just a little bit. It was kind of like seeing them for the very first time, discover them, a fraction of their very own core shown to her…

But anyways

Right after that, just right after all she did, after that fucking day Poppy hadn't heard a word from that bastard.

So all Belvoire may be asking themselves: what was doing the great, the beautiful, the one and only queen Poppy Min-Sinclair walking through the campus with a fruit tree in hands? Obviously not her hands, an employee's hands, but whatever. Same thing.

Well, the answer was simple: Nobody, and that’s nobody…, could ignore her. No one. Poppy can and do ignore people, but be ignored? Hell, no. She hadn't seen Beck in school neither, no text messages, no social media updates, nor shit, so she was going to pay them a visit, giving them something that surely will make them to never forget about her.

So yeah, a fruit tree. That was an acceptable get well gift, right?

Poppy knocked at Beck's place, waiting, of course, for a quick answer… and waiting, and waiting… and waiting.

“Ms. Min-Sinclair…” shyly spoke that man whoever he was. “Can I put the tree down for a second?”

“No.” Maybe if it were any other time the guy could do it, but not today. Today, when she was going to deliver it personally. Today, when she was giving one of the very few gifts meant from her kind spot. Today, when she was getting angrier and angrier because she hated to wait.

She knocked again. Harder this time, but the results were just the same. And that's when something weird started to happen. Yes, she was still angry, but a stitch-like feeling started to grow inside her. She knew for a fact that Beck was in there, the doctor was clear: They needed to rest and there it was no absolutely way Zoey would let them do anything else. So they had to be there.

“Maybe they're taking a nap or something. Nothing weird, right?” She thought while her eyes wandered through the hall, searching for some magic and very hidden way to get inside the dorm. Because maybe… maybe… they weren’t sleeping.

“No. They’re fine! They’re just doing something stupid like playing the ukulele or whatever musicians do.” Her mind chuckled a little, if she could joke about it, then there it was nothing bad going on… But it didn't work quite well. She was starting to feel preoccupied.

“Er… excuse me?” Poppy turned, a deadly, cold, scary glare piercing that poor bastard's self so hard as the blonde knew she was capable of, making him tremble. It would've been funny if it wasn't for the situation.

“You have exactly two seconds to tell me why anything you have to say is relevant or I'll fire you. Starting now.”

“There’s some guy behind that corner watching us for quite a while now.” The employee said, the strawberry blonde followed the man's sight direction, what kind of creep were stalking them? Seriously, fucking weirdo.

To her fortune in at least this case, Poppy recognized that nerdy, greasy hair guy above a pair of glasses and a suspicious look behind them. Ew, Benji What’s-his-name. Well… desperate times call for desperate measures…

“Hey you!” Poppy called him as demanding as only someone like her could be. “Come closer.”

“W-why?” He asked, reserved.

“Because you’re last place and I basically command you. So stop talking and get your pimpled ass over here.” The guy walked towards them, looking hurt, angry maybe, but who cares? It wasn't her fault he was a looser that nobody cared about. Eat or be eaten, there’s people in this world with the potential to be a force of nature, and there it was people like Benji as well. They’re just there to be used. “I need you to open this door for me. ASAP.”

“What?! But that's against the dorm's ru…!”

“Excuse me, do I look like I care?” Poppy was pretty close to lose her patience completely, but she managed to behave a little, after all he was right. If they get caught, most likely the problems would arrive sooner than later. “Just do it and you're free to leave. Nobody’s gonna know.”

“God, they’re gonna know…” he whispered, playing with his own fingers, making then crack. “But let’s make this quick, ok?”

“That is so what I actually asked you to do, you dumbass.”

Benji looked around like if he was about to rob a bank or something, Poppy rolled her eyes at this, tapping her foot to try and give him pressure to do the job in that instant; the only “big move” he did was swiping his master key on the door, then nudged it open with his foot.

“See? It wasn’t that hard, wasn’t it?” Poppy said, not even looking at Benji. “Now disappear before someone see us talking.”

The strawberry blonde didn't even know if Benji did go away or not, she just went straight into Beck's bedroom, opening the door of the first room she saw.

Bingo.

Beck was sitting on their bed, their laptop over their lap; a pair of big, black professional headphones covering their ears and little Fran--- Pepes comfortably sleeping, snugging next to Beck’s feet. When they saw her, their eyes went wide, taking off the headphones completely surprised and confused, a what's going on written all over their face, especially when the employee came along with her gift.

“Poppy? What the…? How the hell did you…?”

“Shht.” She didn't let them finish, chuckled a little of the incredulous expression they had. The reality was that, now that she knew Beck was ok…, she was… weirdly relieved… and pissed, but that's something she could deal with latter. “I want you to place the tree over there… next to the window… perfect! That would be all. You're no longer required.”

The employee left the room almost immediately, the sound of the principal door closing was the only indication that both of them were completely alone.

“Well… are you going to tell me now what are you doing here or not?” Beck spoke.

“I was just passing by and suddenly I wanted to come. Why? Is there a problem?”

“And what's with the tree?”

“It’s a get-well gift from yours truly.” Poppy shooted a playful wink, receiving a flicker of their eyes, disbelieving.

“A tree?”

“It’s a fruit tree.”

“Right…” Beck said, sarcastic painting their voice as they put their headphones around their neck, placing their attention on the screen once again. Like… hello? Poppy was right there!

“I was knocking for a long time out there. Where are your manners? Did you leave them in the farm?” She joked trying to make them mad, while petting Pepes softly, who kept sleeping as if nothing happened right after opening one eye and closing it again.

“No, sorry. I didn’t hear you… How did you get in?”

“I have my ways.”

“Gosh, that’s so messed up…” Beck murmured, their gaze still on the laptop.

“Seriously? That’s it?”

Feeling like a fool, Poppy clenched her teeth. She was waiting for Beck to do something, to look at her again, to ask her to leave, anything! But no, they kept tapping and clicking while biting the insides of their cheeks.

“Jesus, Hughes!” tired, Poppy walked towards them and took drastically their notebook away...

“Hey!”

… and replaced it with herself, sitting over Beck’s lap trying not to hurt their rib. They were warm, pajamas still on, messy hair and even though the bed was made, you could tell they hadn’t gotten up from there in a while.

“Give me that back…” The determination was in their eyes, but Poppy knew better. She knew for a fact they didn’t want her to obey. Their hands around her waist, the whisper in which they were talking and that dork yet attractive smile on their lips were telling otherwise.

“No.” She said. “I came all~ the way here just to see you. The least thing you could do is give your full attention to me.” Poppy demanded.

“I thought you were just passing by.” Beck said, a mocking grin lighting up their face.

“Just shut up already.” She said, causing them to laugh a little.

“Make me.”  

Oh… that’s new.

But she was happy to oblige, so she kissed them. A spicy, hot kiss where her lips and her tongue played with theirs, trying to take control, to make them forget about the whole world, their own name, and focus on her taste, her touch on their neck, her fingers caressing their skin, traveling down, discovering Beck’s clavicles… but it was hard, because she wasn’t the only one trying to take over the other one… Beck was doing it so as well, so how could Poppy concentrate if she could feel the warm moves of the tip of their fingers tracing an intense map on her back, that she could almost feel as if it was on her bare skin? How can she prove herself superior when Beck’s slow bites in her mouth, savoring her, burned so good?  

“How are you feeling, Tushi-face?” Poppy murmured, ending the moment just before she completely loses control. This was still a plan, and the blonde always had to be the one who they can’t live without. She needed them to be hopelessly devoted to her to make it work, not the other way around. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

“Nor a little bit.” Beck took a deep breath, regaining their lost air. But there it was: that lamb face. “I was just trying to pick a good song for an audition.”

“Audition? To what?”

“A metal band. You know, some… stuff.” Poppy frowned, why would them wanted to be on a band? Beck had recognition on their own, fans all over Belvoire and, she can surely bet, even New York. Beck didn’t need anyone else, that’s why she had choose him. Because she knew the potential they had alone. Together… they both would be the power couple of the entire school… and, with her guidance, even more than that.

“Why would you do that?” Poppy asked. Beck responded with a shrug.

“I don’t know. Sounds fun. Besides, there is going to be a battle of bands and I want so badly to show them who's the boss...”

That’s when Poppy saw it for the very first time. The spark on their eyes made of ambition, confidence… arrogance.

“I see…”

All this time, she thought Beck was one of those people that just were going with the flow. A diamond in the rough who couldn't see its real potential… But she was wrong all along… There were more on Beck than they show, and she just figured it out a little more. The music was the answer all this time. She should've seen it before.

“Uhm… Ok. Just pick a song that reminds you of me.” Beck cracked a chuckle, letting their mind wandering thought their music repertoire.

“Oh, I think I have one.” They suddenly said with a playful grin on their face. “I’m sour candy … so sweet then I get a little angry, yeah… Sour candy, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah…”

“Seriously, Hughes? Blackpink?” They didn't care, they even closed their eyes and kept on singing, dancing their arms in a funny, annoying way.

“I'm super psycho, make you crazy when I turn the lights low… sour candy… yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah…”

That was it. Two can play the game just fine.

“Ask me to be nice and then I’ll do it extra mean… tteutbakke pyojeong hanae neon danghwanghagetji...” Poppy sang suddenly, surprising Beck so hard that she couldn’t help but laugh a lot because of their face. “Oh, honey… let me close that for you.” The strawberry blonde used her hand to gentle taking their jaw up. God, how can they be so cute while being dumb?

“You speak Korean?!”

“What kinda question is that? Do you actually know what the Min on Min-Sinclair means?”

“I-I mean, yeah. I just didn't want to assume… what does it mean? That thing you sang?” The blonde raised an eyebrow.

“I thought you knew.” Beck shook his head, that surprised look still into their eyes, but now had a taste of interest and wonder… A chance that she didn't miss. “Well… it actually means this…” Slowly, like a panther hunting her prey, Poppy reach out for Beck's neck, pouring out sweet but dangerous kisses over their skin… Oh, their reactions… Beck sigh, shaking a little, their body was tense, but slowly begun to relax, enjoying the attentions.

Both of their hands started to touch Poppy's body, eager, needy, intensely. Beck's caressed burned more and more over her body to the point where the blonde couldn't take it anymore. She needed them to take her clothes off…

Beck kissed her lips hungrily, tasting her as if they were starving, gripping her hips while doing so. She grinded down on them, stealing a gasp from their lips in between the kisses, driving her mad. Poppy needed to touch them, to feel them, so she put her hands under their shirt, enjoying the burning skin of their actually hard abs… touching careful and slowly up, and up…

“No, Poppy, wait…” Beck suddenly said, nervous and sounding a little scared. Confused as fuck, Poppy moved a little away, shooting them a question-mark-look. What happened? She wanted so badly to ask, but the stupid door opened abruptly, an annoying voice right behind it.

“Beck, I'm home! I got you some soup…”

Zoey was literally in the house. The stupid look on her face when she realized what was happening make Poppy really angry.

“Fuck you, Wade. Don't you see we're in the middle of something?” Something clicked inside the girl, because her astonished expression chance in one second to an indignant one just before slapping the door.

“Shit…”

—-

Next

[hexiewrites]

you can’t take the sky from me - ch one: follow the plan

a/n: *shows up forty minutes late with starbucks & a ridiculous rare-pair au that literally no one asked for* anyways, hi hello I am sorry I have been terribly absent and mostly just a nothing person?? ANYWAYS. I had this idea for a smut scene - a short drabble, you know - and couldn’t figure out a good background setting for it. and then I had this idea to do a space pirates au, which seemed fun and silly and like, idk, 3k tops?? i am so terribly sorry to inform you all that I am currently flying past 13k with absolutely no plans of slowing down or stopping. the outline is nearly 2k and divided into four??? sections and growing. @nymphadoraholtzmann​ drew me the schematics for a warp drive that we designed. everything has gotten very very out of hand and i’m still not entirely? sure how or why??? BUT the tldr here is that I kind of want to make sure this isn’t absolutely nuts and that SOMEONE is going to read it, so I figured I’d post the first chapter and see what the reception is. I probably won’t post the next chapter until I’m closer to being done the fic, unless you’re all super super into this and then hey, maybe I will - but expect another month or so wait, I think, before the fic starts posting in earnest. (I’m also tagging @olivieblake​, @provocative-envy​, @flintwoodandco​, @newt-scxmander​, @kyonomiko​, @ff-sunset-oasis​ - if anyone else wants to be tagged for updates, let me know!!)

what’s inside: space pirates, firefly (etc) ripoffs, probably-bad science, a not-insignificant amount of smut, lots of tropes, a fuckton of swearing, a huge assortment of rare pairs, a small bit of kidnapping, and probably at least one sappy talk about feelings. pairing(s): pansy parkinson/percy weasley (+ marcus flint/oliver wood, ginny weasley/luna lovegood, draco malfoy/theo nott/hermione granger, & more)

“Motherfucker,” she hissed, as the engine in front of her came to a screeching, stuttering halt. “That is abso-fucking-lutely not a good sign.”

It wasn’t. Pansy might not have a fancy school coding, or - really - even an instructional manual for the hunk of almost literal trash she called a ship, but she knew that under no circumstances was her engine ever, ever supposed to stop.

Huffing slightly and not taking her eyes off the unusually-still contraption in front of her, she reached out in the direction of her mod-com and punched at the buttons until a familiar tone buzzed to life.

“Cap?” she called out, pausing and waiting for the long-suffering sigh and the expected retort of, ‘how many gorram times have I told you not to call me Cap?’ and when it didn’t come after ten, then twenty seconds, Pansy started to panic.

“Draco?” she pressed, reaching out to hit a few buttons on her console in vain hopes that her ship would whirr to life again. “Theo?” Still silence.

Not good. Not good at all.

It only took another minute before Pansy decided that the engine was only one of her now rapidly piling up crises, and she turned back for the mod-com and started punching in individual numbers. Nothing from Draco or Theo’s room, nothing from the bridge deck, nothing from the kitchens. Finally, down in the hold, someone answered.

“Pansy?” came a gruff and slightly out of breath voice.

If she had been the type of person to cry, she might have.

“Flint?” Pansy responded, letting out a breath she hadn’t entirely realized she was holding. “Thank fuck. Flint, we’ve got a major effing problem down here. The engine has-”

“Pansy,” he spoke again, and this time his voice was slower, with a hint of warning coursing through it. The tone you only knew when you lived your life on the edge of legal, when you always had to worry - just a little bit - about the fact that at almost any moment you could potentially be arrested and imprisoned, or worse. Pansy knew that tone, and she heard it clearly, and her heart froze and sank in understanding.

The only reason her engine could ever stop spinning and her ship stay in the air.

“Is everyone okay?” she asked, thinking quickly of where her closest gun was, how many knives she had strapped to herself today, what they had in the cargo bay, if it would be better or worse to hit the Ministry or someone they owed.

Marcus swallowed audibly. “Dunno. Draco and Theo went with the first ship, fucking cocksuckers going on about legal operations and needing to find their papers and ‘probably just some big misunderstanding, Officers-’”

“Did they seriously think that’d work?” Pansy groaned, letting her forehead drop down onto the screen in front of her, tuning out the flashing red and the fact that her engine wasn’t actually still, but frozen - alive and hung in the midst of motion, buzzing like it was searching for a way out.

No way out, she thought, bitterly.

“Dunno,” Marcus hedged. “But, look. I’m trying to get rid of some of the worse shit we’ve got here. Pans, you’ve got to-” Marcus stopped and Pansy strained her ear, wincing as she realized she heard footsteps. Their hold was well hidden, but if it were a Ministry ship, they’d know where to go. “Look, they’re gonna be here any minute. Stay hidden, Pans. Try to stay with the ship, okay? You know the emergency plan, right? You know what to do?”

Pansy bit down on the inside of her cheek, running back through the endless lectures, Draco’s insistence on contingency and his stern reminders to ‘guard this ship with your fucking life, but don’t fucking die for it, am I clear?’. “Yeah,” Pansy managed to whisper back, trying to think if she could get them out of it. She couldn’t override Ministry engine blocks. It just wasn’t done. Maybe with enough time, but… not like this. Not when it could mean the lives of her men. Her crew.

Her heart lurched and she was reminded, again, that she hadn’t actually expected this. To be caught, maybe. Or to care if they were. The ship had been a way out, a way forward. Nothing more.

It shouldn’t hurt like this.

“Pansy!” Marcus was saying again, trying to get her attention.

“I got it, Flint. Follow the plan.”

The footsteps were louder now, and Pansy wasn’t sure if they were headed for her, or just nearly on top of Marcus.

Her heart clenched and she screwed her eyes shut as the only world she’d ever started to love began to crumble around her. “Marcus,” she mumbled, and she had to remind herself that she didn’t cry. Not over anything, especially not over shit like this. It was probably all going to be fine. “Don’t be an idiot, right? I expect to see you exactly when and where I’m s’posed to. You hear me?”

“I got it, Pans. Hey. Maybe when we see each other again, maybe we’ll… we’ll try this out again, eh? You and me?”

Pansy couldn’t help but huff out a laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, maybe we will. But if you want to fuck me again, you have to do me a little fucking favour and not try and be a fucking martyr and get yourself fucking killed, right?”

Before Marcus could answer, Pansy heard the hold door slam open. She tried not to listen to the gruff voices demanding Marcus back away from the cargo, to the way Marcus tried to laugh them off. Tried not to listen when she heard a gunshot, and she forced herself to reach up and shut off the channel before she heard anything else.

Her brain clicked sluggishly into action. Follow the plan. The engine room was far and away from nearly everything else on her ship thanks to the strange layout. She had time, and so she had a job to do. Delete contacts, clear location logs, erase things the ship shouldn’t be able to forget. Make them as unappealing as possible, empty, a skeleton crew. And then crawl into a space that maybe wouldn’t be noticed, and wait to be found. Or to be left, floating, abandoned for scavengers and thieves, for pirates.

For someone like her.

When Pansy opened her eyes, she was not alone.

It took her a moment to focus on the fact that, only a few inches away from her face, a pair of large steely bright blue eyes were peering down at her. Almost unblinkingly. It took her a moment to realize where she was - crammed into her safety spot, tucked down under a mess and tangle of metal. Frankly, she was shocked someone had even thought to look for her. And then she realized what had happened - the gravity of it all slammed down onto her and she gasped in a breath and reached for her closest kept knife.

And found that her hand was being held back - thin fingers wrapped around her wrist that she hadn’t even noticed. Presumably, she decided, connected to the blue eyes.

“Hmm. Alive after all, it seems,” the person - the man, she now knew - spoke. His voice was professional, clipped and serious. No joking lilt like Marcus, or the rich pompous drawl of Draco and Theo. It was plain, wholly unforgettable.

Pansy panicked. She couldn’t see much more than his face, wasn’t sure if he was Ministry or something worse. “What are you doing on my sh-” and then she paused, swallowed, licked her lips. That wasn’t the right play here. She was alone, had probably been drifting from the lights that flickered across the room on her control panel. This wasn’t the Ministry, or at least - not the main branch. She had to play it better than that. The blue eyes were still watching her and it was starting to become unnerving, and so she finally settled on what seemed like an easy enough question. “Who are you?”

Slowly, the eyes shrank as the man retreated, and then she felt herself being tugged rather unceremoniously out her her hiding space. She was thankful she hadn’t worn her typical work outfit that day, and although she missed the heavy weight of her toolbelt - she could see it glinting out from under where she’d stashed it - it was a good thing. The less culpable she was here, the better. Besides, her looser flowing trousers had more space for hidden knives, and she was thankful for all of those right now.

“None of your business,��� the man continued, still holding firmly onto her wrist. He activated a com-device on his other arm and Pansy strained to listen.

“Ten-four, this is Wood, what’s your status?”

“Found a girl - alive, no crew signia. Ministry engine blockers, looks like, nothing of any value down here. No other signs of life that I can see.”

Pansy fought the anger that rose into her chest at his words. Nothing of value? Her ship - no value? She bit her tongue hard to fight from lashing out and worked instead at sliding her hand closer to her favourite knife, working it carefully loose from its sheath.

“Balls. Right, thanks Per-er, thanks, Weasley. Bring her up to the deck, nothing of use for us here, gents.”

Pansy noticed the way the man’s cheek twitched at the words from the other side of the comm, and she thought she caught the start of another voice - a frustrated female one from the sound of it - but the comm was off before she had a chance. Clearly, they weren’t usually scavengers, or at least, not very good ones. It was obvious the man, Wood, hadn’t been using code names, and he nearly let her current captor’s full name slip. A big mistake, in this business.

While this Weasley fiddled with his comm - pulling up a map, it seemed - Pansy seized her moment of distraction and shifted in his grip. Before her knife found skin, the taller (much taller, she noticed) man followed her actions and it was gone from her fingers before she had a chance.

“Good try,” he commented, his voice still almost flat. “Not quite good enough, unfortunately. No more of that, let’s go.” And then he had her hands locked together and she cursed under her breath at the use of the device pulsing around her wrists and restricting her movement. They were expensive, beyond the use of most scavengers. She was working with a different level now, and she needed to remember that.

Luckily, as they slipped through the door, she managed to reach out just an inch and hit the most important button on the ship. The one she had put there. If they were very, very lucky, the Ministry would fly out of range or the blocker would give up before the ship was stripped for all she was worth. If she was even luckier still, she’d make it away from whoever her current captors were, and this wouldn’t be the last time she inhaled the smoky air of her home.

Pansy didn’t cry, but today - she was closer than she had ever been.