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auroracalisto · 4 years ago

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all the lost things

summary: the reader has always been close with Ms. Mead. growing up, she went to her neighbor for comfort, hiding from her abusive parents. but one day, she just disappears. when she comes back, michael is there, on a path to purify the world.

pairing: michael x reader

word count: 3.9k words

warnings: talks of the antichrist, religious undertones, abusive parents, physical abuse, reader ends up in hospital, reader is stabbed but nothing is said other than she was stabbed, cussing, blood, death, major character death (mead), follows the plotline in the show but not exactly

a/n: no notes, head empty. also word count could be 4k but it was like 90 words off and yeah

Ms. Mead was always there for [Your name]. No matter what had happened, no matter how her parents had treated her, Ms. Mead was there. Her parents would hurt her, tease her, ridicule her for her relationship with the renowned Satanist. They hated the fact that their little “angel” was friends with such a nasty type of woman—and even though they were hypocritical to the highest extent, they stood by that. She helped to patch her up on particularly bad days. Ms. Mead had offered time and time again for [Your name] to take a bed in her home, but [Your name] never accepted the offer. She already helped so much—she never wanted to burden her even more. Not to mention the fact that Ms. Mead hardly knew of everything that occurred. [Your name] quite often kept most of what happened to herself.

Ms. Mead was more of a parent to her more than her shitty birth parents. And when [Your name] went missing, she was understandably concerned. However, Michael had shown up. There wasn’t much she could do to find you, especially since you were never listed as missing with the local law enforcement, and the two of them (Ms. Mead and Michael) had yet to figure out just how far Michael’s powers would go, and how soon it would take for him to grow into them.

Ms. Mead waited anxiously for you to return, from wherever you had run off to. It was nearly two weeks after Michael had gotten there. Two weeks of Ms. Mead leading Michael around and showing him how to live—showing him what life was all about with the loving care of a Satanist mother.

On a sunny Tuesday afternoon, Michael sat at the dining room table, eating a ham and cheese sandwich. Ms. Mead was washing dishes, looking over at the boy as a knock sounded at the door.

“Do you mind getting that? I’ll be right there, I just have a few more to do.”

Michael gave a small nod, and he sat his sandwich down before he stood and walked over to the front door. He opened it without wasting a second, seeing a battered woman standing there. He furrowed his eyebrows at the woman, looking at her arm slung in a cast and her bruised eye and split lip. She uncomfortably shifted on her leg—while she didn’t have anything on it, it was obvious that she had hurt it. If she were to bend down, surely her abdomen would kill her.

“Is… is Miriam here?” she asked.

“Who are you?”

The black-haired woman showed up behind Michael. Her eyes went wide. “[Your name]?” She quickly moved to hug her. [Your name] flinched but she hugged back, carefully using her other arm to pat her back.

Michael could see the healing bruises that littered her arms. “Where the hell have you been, girl?” she asked, looking at her in disbelief. “What happened to you?”

She took her free hand and turned to look at Michael. “Shut and lock the door behind us. Can you get her a change of clothes? Just sweatpants and a shirt. Hurry.”

Michael blinked slowly but did as he was told.

Ms. Mead lead [Your name] into the dining room, sitting her down. She brushed some of the hair out of her face back as she sat across from her.

“I looked for you, but I couldn’t find anything. Where were you? Did you lose your phone? What happened to the one I gave you for emergencies?”

[Your name]’s beautiful eyes couldn’t meet hers. She shifted in her seat, taking in a sharp breath when her stomach slightly rubbed against the table she was seated at. The last time Miriam had interrogated her like this was when she had accidentally broken her sofa and not said anything—and that was nearly seven years ago.

“Uh,” she closed her eyes.

“I got them,” Michael interrupted. Of course, he didn’t know he had. He brought the clothes over and sat them beside Ms. Mead before he sat back down at his sandwich. He attempted to ignore them but found himself listening to their conversation anyway.

“He found it.”

Miriam’s eyes widened. “What?”

[Your name] just shrugged, wincing as she did that. “Yeah. He found my emergency phone. And then, he found my go back. I… I had it packed. I was ready to leave, Miriam,” she said, leaning back against her seat. “I was ready to leave and come here,” [Your name] weakly smiled. “Guess that didn’t happen.”

“Wait, wait, what does all this have—” Miriam stopped herself. “What did your father do to you?” she softly asked, her warm hand going over the top of [Your name]’s.

“He beat me until I was unconscious, and then I guess he and my mom dropped me off at the hospital. I didn’t have anything on me. My ID is gone, I don’t have my phone. Everything was stripped off of me save for my clothes. They said I had gone into a coma, but like… they also had to do an emergency surgery because I had been stabbed.”

“He stabbed you?” Miriam felt her face burn with rage. She couldn’t believe this. She knew [Your name]’s parents were shit, but she never believed they would do anything like that.

She gave a small nod. “They’re gonna have to bill me somehow. I… I might have given them a fake name when I came to. Let’s see if they can. That’s also… probably why you couldn’t find me,” she weakly smiled.

“What did you use?”

“Lucy Moore.”

Miriam rolled her eyes. “Of course, you did. I wondered why that sounded so familiar. I saw it in the newspaper but didn’t think much about it. Damn. You’ve used that since you were a child,” she huffed softly. “You’ve been there for nearly two weeks, [Your name]. Are you okay?”

[Your name] shrugged. “I’m as good as I can be, Miriam. There’s not much to be said.”

Michael hadn’t touched his food. He stared at the [color] haired woman for the longest time before he spoke up.

“Why are you here?” he asked. “You’re not home?”

Miriam looked over at the boy with a frown. “Michael.”

“No, he’s got a point,” [Your name] sighed. “I can’t go back. Not because of this. But… Miriam, they’re gone. They’ve completely moved out. Left and everything. The house is on the market. Saw the sign when I was walking by.”

“You walked all the way here?” Michael asked, his eyebrows furrowed. “From the hospital?”

“Took me about an hour, but yeah,” [Your name] said.

The resilience she had made Michael’s heart skip a beat. But perhaps that was also from the immense anger building up in the pit of his stomach for two people that he had never met. Michael clenched his fists under the table, looking towards his half-eaten sandwich with a type of malice that would burn a human.

His sandwich lit on fire—the bread and meat and cheese immediately being consumed by reds, oranges, and yellows.

[Your name]’s eyes widened, and she quickly turned to face him, despite the burning pain she felt from doing so.

Miriam watched with wide eyes, a smile growing on her lips. When the fire had completely gone out, as it was only contained to his food, she grinned at him. “This is Michael, my dear,” Miriam said. “He’s been staying with me since you disappeared.”

“How—how did he—”

“—he’s the Antichrist, dear.”

Well, there was no hiding that. Michael quickly looked up at Miriam, surprised that she told [Your name] so quickly.

[Your name] furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, before she gave a small nod. “Right, so, you—you made that fire all on your own?” she asked.

When Michael nodded, [Your name] turned to face Ms. Mead.

“Can I take a shower?” she asked.

Michael blinked a couple of times. The woman wasn’t afraid of him—that struck him as odd. She had just been dropped with the news that would bring the end of times—and yet, she just asked his adoptive mom if she could take a shower.

Who was she?

Miriam nodded. “We’ve got to cover up your cast. Can’t risk it getting wet,” she said, going to find some plastic wrap in the kitchen.

Michael stared the injured woman down for a moment. “You’re not afraid?”

She looked over at him with a frown. “Why would I be? After everything I’ve been through,” she said, sucking in a breath as she slowly got to her feet. “Seeing my parents burn would be the best thing since I found Ms. Mead. Seems like she just keeps collecting lost things, huh?”

[Your name] smiled towards him, and he returned it, albeit shyly.

Despite the wounds on her face, Michael thought she was beautiful. To [Your name], the man was just beautiful.

She knew all the stories about the Antichrist. Her parents used to spew Revelations at dinner like it was just normal gossip.

He would be beautiful, have immense powers (even though she was unaware he was still trying to get his powers under control, as his Antichrist nature had just been awoken not too long ago), and in everything that came from what her parents said, she remembered one and thought about it more often than the others: he would be perfect.

Michael was perfect.

Miriam came back with a yellow box of plastic wrap. She began to open it up.

“Will you be okay showering by yourself? Can you take your clothes off by yourself?”

“I’ll be fine,” she said, waving the woman off. Miriam just smiled and began to wrap her cast.

“While you do that, I’m going to run to the store and buy some actual clothes for you. You have some here, but not a lot. Don’t worry,” she said, finishing up the multiple layers of plastic wrap. “I still remember your size. And your favorite scent is…?”

When she told her, Miriam smiled.

“Good. I’ll get some things with that as well. Oh, my [Your name], it’s so good to see your face again,” the woman said. “I’ll be back. Michael, stay home. I’ll just be a few minutes.”

When Miriam left, [Your name] went to shower. Michael didn’t know what to do, so he went to his bedroom, reading a book that Miriam had stocked on his bookshelf. Of course, he didn’t realize it was the Satanist Bible until after he started reading it. However, he was completely distracted by it and was only brought out of his intense reading session when he heard loud cursing coming from the bathroom.

Michael frowned a bit and marked his page with a piece of scrap paper from his desk. He quickly got up and went to the bathroom, knocking on the door.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Uh,” [Your name] began, trying her best not to sound like she was in pain. “I—yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” Her voice shook as she tried to get up. She had fallen in the shower. The stitches in her side hurt like a bitch, and the pain she had in her leg would stay for a while—her doctor had told her it was a pretty bad sprain, but that it would heal eventually. And with only one hand available to get herself up, she was stuck at the bottom of the tub.

“You don’t sound fine…”

[Your name] clenched her jaw and took in a deep breath. “Could you—I… I need help. I fell,” she said.

Michael immediately went to open the door.

“Wait!”

Michael stopped in his tracks.

“You can’t look at me. Keep your eyes closed. Please.”

[Your name] wasn’t scared at the fact that he would see her naked—she was more scared of the fact that he would see how damaged her body was. She should have been more scared of her naked body—in all reality, she had just met him.

Michael opened the door, making sure that she saw his eyes were closed. He walked into the bathroom and quite literally ran into the toilet.

“I—take like two steps to the left—”

Michael did as he was told.

“Wait, no, I’m sorry, it’s your right—” she stopped herself and squeezed her eyes shut. “Just… Just open your eyes. It’ll be easier.”

“Are you sure?” Michael asked. His voice was soft, like buttercream on a birthday cake.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

Michael opened his blue eyes. He locked eyes with [Your name] and his expression softened. It was the look at [Your name] hated more than anything.

The look of pity when people realized why she was always hurt. He had the same expression. Michael walked over to her and turned the steaming water off. He carefully hooked his arms underneath hers and got her to her feet.

“Did you already shower?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No.”

“Alright,” he looked down at her. He avoided looking at her body. He made sure to keep his eyes on hers. “I’ll—I’ll be right in the other room if you need me, okay?”

When [Your name] nodded, Michael turned the water back on for her and left the bathroom. It didn’t happen again, but Michael sat on the edge of his bed, listening for anything.

He was stiff, and he was barely breathing as he listened for the woman to hurt herself again. When the water shut off, this time by [Your name]’s hand and not his own, he finally took in a much-deserved breath. He closed his eyes, laying back on his bed. He was so worried for the woman that he hadn’t even heard the front door shut. When he heard Ms. Mead’s voice, he shot up from his bed and ran downstairs to help her.

He took each of the bags from the older woman.

“Take these to the guest room, okay? The one with the white bed.”

Michael nodded and rushed off, with five bags of things she would need on one arm and six on the other.

[Your name] came out of the bathroom with the clothes on that Michael had grabbed earlier, her free hand drying her hair the best she could.

Michael sat everything on the bed and came back out of the room, seeing her.

His eyes widened. “I can do that for you—”

“I… I got it,” [Your name] mumbled, her cheeks burning at the thought that he would look at her like he did before. She looked over at him, and she nearly stopped drying her hair. She couldn’t describe his expression—but it wasn’t like it was before.

Michael crossed his arms over his chest. “Your room. It’s this one,” he pointed to the door behind him.

“Thank you,” she said, walking towards it.

Michael grabbed her by her elbow, looking right at her. “Let me do your hair.”

Her eyes widened. “What—”

“—let me do your hair. I want to help you.”

Throughout all of her thoughts, one stuck out the most: why was the Antichrist being so kind to her?

Michael didn’t wait for her to answer, leading her back into the bedroom. He began to search through the plastic bags, eventually finding the items Ms. Mead bought for her hair. He forced [Your name] to sit down on the edge of the bed and Michael got behind her. He finished towel drying her hair and then proceeded to use what Ms. Mead had bought, with the instructions that [Your name] was given him. He had never even tried to fix anyone else’s hair before—he had only taken care of his own. It gave him a sense of pride to know that [Your name] hadn’t denied his help, this time.

[]

Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months.

Eventually, Michael and [Your name] were quite close—much to Miriam’s excitement.

Although she never said anything, she quite liked the idea of them being so close. It made her confident heart soar with happiness at the thought that the two people she cared for most in the world were just as close to each other as they were to her.

Despite their closeness, however, Michael disappeared after being taken to jail.

He hadn’t been able to contact [Your name] until about a week after being gone.

“Hello?” [Your name] spoke into the telephone, confused. She didn’t know the number that had called.

“[Your name],” Michael said. He closed his eyes, melting at the sound of her voice.

“Michael?” [Your name] quickly sat up, alert. “What the hell, Michael? Where are you? Are you okay? Wh—”

“—I’m alright,” he chuckled softly. “Things have kind of… happened. I’m at a school for Warlocks. I’m ‘honing’ my magic. That’s what they said, anyway,” he spoke, leaning against the wall behind him as he talked on the phone. “[Your name], they want me to be the next Supreme.”

“I… would be super excited for you, if I would know what the fuck that is,” she scoffed. “Michael, seriously. What’s going on?”

Michael chuckled at her comment. “I’m safe. I promise you. But this is how I do my job. As the… well, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah. But what—”

“—listen, I have to go. I have to get back to class. But I’ll call you. Please know that I’m safe. It was so good to hear your voice, [Your name]. Make sure Ms. Mead knows that I’ll get in contact with both of you soon.”

Michael hung up the phone.

What [Your name] didn’t know was that Michael had already been in contact with Ms. Mead. And the two were conspiring against the Warlocks to make it easier for Michael to reach the title of Supreme, and therefore, bring around the end of the world.

[]

Another week passed without a word from Michael.

[Your name] was more nervous than words could put together. Although the two were just close friends, she quite missed his absence. She was starting to believe she wanted to be much more than friends, but she would never say anything about it.

[Your name] sat at the dining room table, wondering where the hell Ms. Mead was.

She had been gone since early morning.

She heard the front door shut and had come downstairs to see what was going on—Ms. Mead was nowhere in sight, and she hadn’t left any sort of note.

It was nearing noon when the house phone began to ring.

[Your name] sighed, figuring it was Miriam. She got up and walked over to the phone, answering it.

“Hello?”

“[Your name],” Michael’s voice came through the speaker. “They’ve killed her.”

[Your name] paused for a moment. She sucked in a breath through her teeth, sitting back down at the dining room table. “What are you talking about?”

“The witches. They killed her. They killed Ms. Mead.”

Only now did [Your name] hear Michael’s sobs. He must have moved the phone away from his head moments before, preventing her from hearing it.

A feeling of dread pooled into her stomach. The news seemed fake—unreal, to her in the sense that it couldn’t have happened. It didn’t happen. Miriam was fine. She had to be.

Her breathing was uneasy as she quickly stood back up. “Where are you?”

Michael told her his exact location—it wasn’t too hard to find, and she would be able to get there pretty quickly.

[Your name] hung up the phone and grabbed some cash and car keys, before she ran outside. She ran to the car that still sat in the driveway. She should have known. She should have checked. Ms. Mead wouldn’t have just left for a walk. She would have said something.

[Your name] entered the location onto the GPS in the car. She took off driving, tears blurring her vision, but she never once stopped. When there wasn’t a cop or a car nearby, she ran through the red lights. She sped until she got to the location.

She quickly slammed on the breaks, putting the car in park. She turned it off and quickly got out of the car, nearly tripping over herself as she planted her feet on the ground.

Michael quickly looked over his shoulder, his eyes wide when he saw her.

He forced himself off of the ground, rushing in her direction. [Your name] met him halfway, her arms tightly wrapping around his body. She let out a soft sob and Michael hugged her back, burying his face in her hair.

“[Your name],” he said, tears forming in his own eyes.

She shook her head, her fingers digging into the fabric of his black suit.

Michael’s fingers gently tangled in her hair as he pulled back to look down at her. Red rimmed the edge of his eyes.

He had been crying, for some time now. [Your name] looked up at him, trying to keep herself calm.

“Michael,” she bit her lip, holding back a sob as she watched him. “What happened… why did this happen?”

Michael shook his head. He would have spoken, had it not been for the blonde witch who walked up to the two, a black umbrella hovering over her head.

Cordelia’s eyes widened when she realized that Michael was not alone.

Michael quickly pushed [Your name] behind him, glaring in Cordelia’s direction.

He didn’t give her a chance to speak, his hand reaching back and gripping onto [Your name]’s. “I’ll kill you,” Michael seethed, his body shaking slightly out of rage. “I’ll kill you and all your damn witches. You stupid—”

[Your name] squeezed his hand. He stopped talking, clenching his jaw.

Cordelia looked from Michael to [Your name] before she gave a curt nod and left them standing there.

Michael quickly turned to face [Your name]. “Never again. I will never let you leave my sight,” he said. “Ever. I… You’re all I have,” he frowned, cupping her cheeks as he spoke.

[Your name] reached up, placing her hands over the top of his. “You’re all I have, too, Michael,” she said, closing her eyes. “I… I’m so sorry. I… I should have realized something was wrong earlier—”

“—you wouldn’t have known what they were planning to do. I didn’t know, either,” he said, frowning deeply. “But they will pay for this. They all will. Every last one of those damned witches. You have my word.”

“I know I do,” [Your name] said, looking up at the man. “Michael, can we—can we go home?” she asked, looking past him at the charred remains of the only good woman in her life. “I… I think we should pack our things. Leave. It’s not safe here…”

“You’re right,” he frowned. “But [Your name], it’s just going to get worse. You… you have to promise me you’ll be by my side. Always.”

“Always,” she nodded.

“Good,” Michael said, pulling her into another hug. He rested his head on her chin. He would protect her until the end of time. The thought of letting her go now made his insides boil. She would never leave his side—never. The only way she’d leave him is through death, and even then, he would bring her back. No matter what.

#michael langdon #michael langdon x reader #michael x reader #michael #ahs #ahs apocalypse #american horror story #american horror story apocalypse #x reader #reader insert #female reader #female reader insert #reader #ahs x reader #american horror story x reader #one shot #x female reader #miriam mead #ms. mead

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neonponders · 3 years ago

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I started writing this very niche au ages ago that @booksfoxesandcoffee and @demogirlfriend tinkered with lol it’s not quite what I wanted, but at least it’s done ~

Based on my post for This Steve with This Billy:

vampire/musician!Steve and mobster!Billy.

TW for briefly mentioned drugs and all manner of vampire things.

💋 💋 💋 💋 💋 💋 💋

If Billy were being honest with himself, it wasn’t the man’s looks that hooked him. The way a superior dancer stands out in the ensemble, it was the musician’s energy that made Billy’s eyes keep finding him.

Every business that opened his his territory went through Billy’s strict legislature. And the whole city was his to play king.

He didn’t consider himself a strict businessman, but he did attend the new club with regularity to make sure they had what they needed to succeed. If they couldn’t succeed, then they’d have to rebuild elsewhere.

They did succeed. Because they had Steve Harrington.

On paper, he was lead guitarist. An instrumentalist. Vocalist if necessary. Billy Hargrove knew he shined in neon stage lighting and his special trick was swinging the instrument around his body so the guitar switched sides halfway through a song or riff, proving ambidextrous dexterity.

Billy knew Harrington was hard to get ahold of. So far, he’d hosted every member of the band and every guest musician at his VIP table. Harrington always had reasons for leaving directly after a show, which surprised Billy. The man’s band mates clearly revolved around him, looked to him for timing cues, and Billy even had the unique experience of seeing the man smack a drink out of the bassist’s hand because the guy could barely stand.

There was a personality there, and Billy wanted to see it up close. Taste it.

Somehow, Harrington had even avoided being invited to Billy’s table during the mid-show break. Always conveniently disappearing until the second he needed to be on stage.

Until now.

Billy’s guards stood up when Harrington approached with someone held firmly by the scruff of his shirt and jacket. Billy waved them aside, and the musician dumped the guy into Billy’s booth. Some heads turned in their direction, curious for drama but not for long. Anyone who hung around Billy, hungering for his attention, knew to be careful about annoying him.

“Is this one of yours?” Harrington prompted.

“Why would he be?” Billy inquired with a lethargic blink.

“I thought your sort had more class than distributing roofies.”

Billy’s pleased, large feline demeanor sloughed off as he turned his head to the man in his booth. Billy didn’t bother negating Harrington’s accusations. Anybody with sense knew who he was. The only thing that bothered Billy at the moment was the use of some nobody to get the musician’s attention.

“You’re right. He isn’t.”

Just like that, the guards lifted the sorry soul out of his booth and began ushering him out of the club. He made a weak attempt at promising an ability to make Billy money, but the latter wasn’t interested in a business centered around dangerous sex. Billy considered himself a purveyor of the opposite; of passion, and real passion only came when all parties were conscious for it.

“Steve.”

The musician paused to look back at him, already on his way back to the greenroom or wherever he hid in between performances.

“Sit with me.”

Steve’s gaze flicked down to the now available seat next to Billy. “No, thanks.”

As if he could -

He did.

Steve walked away from the table. Billy saw the more discretely dressed guards loitering in the crowd turn and begin to approach Harrington...before distinctly letting him pass.

It was not a regular day that Billy Hargrove’s employees feared someone else more than him.

He pressed his back into the booth, and one of the women sitting along the back of the booth leaned down to hear him. “I want his file.”

“Yes, sir,” she purred. It took no time at all for her to return to his table with Harrington’s business papers. Typical tax form, resume, no cover letter but instead a CD with his music samples.

“What about his background?”

Her nails raked through her long, black hair. She played the part of groupie very well. “We don’t have anything yet.”

Billy found that hard to believe. “He’s worked here for weeks.”

She shrugged a bare, shimmering shoulder. “He hides very well. We’ll have something soon.”

Not soon enough.

Billy took to wandering his club instead of sitting. Why they didn’t just haul the musician into Billy’s office for questioning…no sensible person detonates a bomb without knowing the area is clear. They didn’t know enough about Steve. Whether he belonged to a family scouting the borough before encroaching on Billy’s property.

Would it be their fault for sending in a mole without honoring the proper channels? Yes.

Would it be Billy’s fault for starting an underground war for harming Steve first? Also yes.

So he watched. So he waited. And he began to enjoy this game he and Steve had developed. Because Steve wasn’t as oblivious. He looked pretty—the kind of pretty that some mistake as dumb—but Steve had proven in many, subtle ways just how observant he could be.

The way he managed his band members’ alcohol or obvious drug addictions.

The second time he hauled some petty dealer over to Billy’s booth.

When he flipped Billy off as he walked away after Billy tested, “I noticed you like brunettes.”

“No, you haven’t.”

Steve watched Billy. And Billy watched Steve. At least, Billy suspected. Billy hoped.

The confirmation arrived in the humid alleyway behind his club. He was already itching for a fight. For the last two weeks, a new asshole had been loitering around and inside his business. No one had yet been able to catch him doing anything—until Billy followed him out of the wrong exit. Nobody could use service doors at the back of the building; it was both a safety hazard for civilians to be in the way of delivery trucks, and any squeals about people coming and going from there would have the police riding Billy’s tail.

Then the bastard had the audacity to take two girls who were definitely sporting fake id’s outside.

He slammed the service door against the brick exterior to get their attention. All three of them were huddled and necking between two garbage bins. A real class act.

“Jail bait bimbos, get inside. This asshole can lock himself in a concrete box without your…help.”

The distinct memory of Steve delivering roofy dealers to him flashed in his brain at the sight of the blissed out girls using the alley walls to stay upright. The memory flew out into the main street at the glistening darkness on both of their necks, dripping into their low cut shirts.

In the window of Billy’s surprise, the guy attacked. Slammed Billy right against the other side of the alley, knocking the air out of him—

Billy’s brain couldn’t keep up. But his eyes could.

A large hand gripped the gelled hair and wrenched the guy’s head so far back that Billy heard a threatening pop.

Billy had never stood next to Steve before. He stood just a little taller than Billy—both smaller than the impressive figure he’d watched so many times on stage, but also bigger because he’d never been this close…

Billy was officially having trouble breathing as he watched the man’s wide eyes darting around his sockets despite his broken neck and the disgusting angle of his windpipe.

“This spot’s taken. Tell your hovel to skip town. You won’t get a fourth chance.”

Fourth?

Billy’s eyes stuck on the bloody, long teeth in the man’s gullet before Steve shoved him down the alley. The man landed several yards away—no ordinary shove—but he hauled ass to his feet, head lolling on his shoulders with more sickening crackles.

Billy remained stationary as Steve fixed the shirts and jackets falling on the girls’ shoulders went to hail a cab. One of them recovered faster than the other, and hauled her friend into the vehicle. By this time, Billy managed to say, “What will they do with those stained shirts?”

Steve looked at him, suddenly looking remarkably…normal. Even startled, like he’d forgotten Billy was there. He didn’t hold Billy’s gaze, instead looking a bit downward—

“What will you do about yours?”

Billy frowned, blinking twice before he looked down at himself. It took him a moment to see the difference in his dark blue button-up. But he glistened like the girls did. Slowly, his mind caught up and realized how warm the side of his neck felt, and how gross. Wet. Dry. Sticky. Crusting.

“How did I not even notice?”

Like a dream clinging onto his waking consciousness, the blurry numbness subsided, and Billy realized his throat really fucking hurt.

Steve’s gaze dropped even further, tilting away from Billy as he pointed at the doors. “Go and clean yourself up. Go home.”

Leave it to Billy Hargrove’s pride to stack his spine back together. He stepped off the alley wall and into Steve’s space.

“Don’t—” he turned his face further to the side.

“Explain,” Billy ordered, even as Steve’s hand lifted to cover his mouth.

Steve shook his head a little. “I don’t have to,” he muffled and lifted weary eyes. “Clean yourself up.”

The answers were right there. Yet it seemed…stupid to say any of it out loud. How many movies? Book? Shows?

Instead he said, “Show me.”

Steve’s jaw clenched. “You don’t play with bears like this.”

Billy laughed. He laughed Steve all the way out of the alleyway. Billy only regretted this when the next evening, the secretaries of the business ran through the week’s itinerary. Steve wasn’t scheduled.

A long week progressed of Billy thinking over that night. How the hell a guardian angel with teeth and no wings lived his nights in Billy’s cage and Billy had just…taunted him into slipping right out of the bars.

When another week presented itself with still no sight of his musician, Billy knew he would have more than one inconvenience on his plate. His customers liked Steve. Statistically, the club was fit to bursting since a third more clientele showed up for the band’s gigs. Steve made the barkeeps laugh in between numbers. Billy had always thought he used the alcohol in the greenroom instead of taking up the bars’ time.

Instead he dropped rats right into the king’s lap. Creatures Billy never would have seen unless Steve made them visible.

“Schedule Steve’s group on Sunday.”

His secretary frowned at him. “Am I missing something? We’re off on Sundays.”

“He knows that. Just use whatever number he gave you.”

Billy waited behind the club. Perhaps he should have arranged a specific meeting time instead of just the vague Sunday, but…Steve was punctual to his usual call time. Billy heard his footsteps the same moment the lighter in his hands crackled softly under his cigarette.

Steve approached with his hands in his jean pockets. Then he entered the harsh lighting of the motion-detected beams above the doors. “You don’t look good.”

Because he didn’t. Steve made tired look good but he had met the line between tired and haggard. His lips were chapped and the lights above him put his eye sockets into harsh contrast. Billy missed the lush face he watched bathed in neon stage lights.

Steve only met Billy’s gaze briefly before looking back down the alley. “Haven’t been to the grocery store lately.”

“By ‘groceries,’ do you mean my place?”

“And if I do, then what?”

Billy smirked as easily as blinking. “I don’t recall firing you. You didn’t have to run—”

“Yes, I did. Dipshit.”

Billy moved his tongue over his teeth while he grinned. “Why didn’t you finish what he started? Three easy meals right there.”

“And swell up like a mosquito? Gross.”

Smoke sputtered out of his mouth. “You’re not what I expected. In any regard. It’s a wonder my employees haven’t been inspired by your recklessness. Or my letting you get away with it.”

“There’s no letting anything happen. We’re not all teeth. There’s nothing you could do if we don’t want it to happen. It’s the same on your side for humans.”

Billy’s next exhalation seeped out of his mouth. Slow. “Are you taking your time? Circling a stronger prey?” He tapped the ash off his cigarette, and watched Steve’s irises flick to the movement. “Most people come to me for my looks, money, or power. Is it the same for you?”

“No.”

That might’ve caught Billy off guard, if he didn’t feel gently nailed in place by Steve’s eyes lifting to his own. It was Billy’s turn to look down—down at the fingers grazing Billy’s hand as Steve reached for the cigarette. Took it.

“You’re easy prey because you’re already dying. You smoke a pack of these a day. The rest of the criminal cityscape would celebrate your funeral. A wolf’s goal is to eat. Not bragging rights—well. For the smart ones. We go for what’s easy.”

Glass-blue eyes wandered Steve’s face as he took a long inhalation. “I’ve never been called ‘easy’ in my entire life.”

Steve shrugged and—politely—aimed his lips to the side. Billy wondered how much he’d mind if Steve’s smoke graced his skin. “What can I say? We hunt the same way lions, tigers, and bears to. We go for what’s attainable with minimum effort.”

“You’re lazy.”

That overarching fringe bobbed over his head. Of course Steve had taken the time to style his hair. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

Billy took his cigarette back with a huff. “I’ll decide later how insulted I should be. Until then, you’re the one looking like easy pickings.”

“You haven’t thrown anyone out of your place lately.”

That took an extra minute for Billy to process. “You…huh.”

Steve’s head moved with his eyes rolling onto him. “You don’t really think people in this city leave any bar without a fight, do you? I’ve had plenty of dinners on your tab.”

“Well, don’t let me stop you.”

Steve’s mouth lifted slightly in a skeptical grimace. “What’s the catch?”

Billy took his time with the last drag and stepped on the filter on his way to minimize the distance between them. “Explain to me why some pervert bites me and I’m fighting a hard on for two weeks?”

A rigid second passed, and then Steve crumbled into laughter. He laughed like a kid. A really cute little shit.

As Steve recovered, he heaved, “I’ve never heard anyone complain about the bite boners.”

Billy followed him as he reclined against the alley wall. “How about, instead of avoiding what’s really at play here, you admit to wanting to bite me. You’re usually on top of the rats that enter my business. But not that night.”

Steve stood on his own feet, making Billy feel the one inch he had on him. “And what if I did? What if it wasn’t your smell that made me crave, but jealousy?”

His musician’s bravado flickered when Billy’s tongue traced the edge of his bottom lip. “How do I smell?”

“Like smoked peaches.”

Steve was proving an annoying skill at making Billy dumbfounded. “What?”

He giggled anew. “Are you the type to fuck without kissing?”

Billy absorbed that and returned, “You like to kiss after blowjobs, don’t you?”

Steve wagged his head, so his words drifted back and forth over Billy’s mouth. “Yeah? So what?”

Billy inhaled deeply to make a show of sighing like humoring Steve’s romantic ethics was tiring him out—

Steve’s hands cradled his head with care, the soft sound of Billy’s hair scrunching underneath his fingers filling his ears as Steve licked inside Billy’s mouth. The latter’s jaw went slack, letting Steve in and meeting his tongue to taste him right back. Apart from the smoke, Steve tasted mutely sweet. The way a clean mouth does; the way a man should taste. Billy had always thought the way a person tasted was a uniquely intimate thing. Like a special piece of DNA could only be read with the tongue.

Steve’s tongue retreated so he could fully kiss Billy’s lips. When the lazy, soft pecks seemed to be Steve’s only intent, Billy gripped his shirtfront, the only warning he got before Billy licked the seam of his lips, wanting more. Wanting what they started.

“Mhm…is everything…a power trip with you?” Steve mumbled, but his breath shuddered when Billy pressed his hard groin against Steve’s pelvis.

“Bite me and fuck me—”

The lights went out, because they were tucked far enough behind a garbage bin for the motion detectors to not see them. Steve’s attention moved between these details and he uttered, “Next to the trash?”

Billy growled, “Ughh,” and hauled Steve off the brick and into his off-day business. “I should’ve guessed you were high maintenance.”

But right inside the doors, Billy tapped in the access code to a private elevator. “Where are we going?”

“Top floor penthouse.”

Steve snorted. “You’re like my cockatoo bragging about the highest swing.”

“You have a bird?”

“Yes, I have a bird! A little asshole named, Orchid. He whistles to all of my songs.”

“You’re the strangest excuse for a vampire I’ve ever seen.”

“And you are easy. Thanks for showing me the key to your house.”

Billy looked at him and met a toothy smirk. “Pisces, huh?”

The elevator dinged and Billy was too deep to back out now. He couldn’t tell which of them was the hunter, but he was ready to share a hell of a meal.

#billy's password is his birthday lol #harringrove #vampire!steve #this got away from me #it was supposed to be dark and hot #but here i am #inserting fluff where it doesn't need to be #neonponders #pondermoniums #mobster!billy

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thefanficmonster · 3 years ago

Text

Stargazing

Ethan Winters x Mia Winters (Resident Evil Biohazard)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Romance, Fluff

Summary: A year after the events that took place at the Bakers’ residence and the three years of Mia being missing, the Winters spouses have finally been healed enough to start getting back into a regular lively rhythm, nevertheless haunted by the nightmare they lived through.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Sorry you’ve had to wait so long for your request but here it finally is! They deserved so much better and I’ll never stop saying that! Sorry for the brief rant, still, hope you enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

Holding Ethan’s hand tightly, Mia follows his instructions to keep her gaze down at the ground and avoid looking up as much as possible. She’s been having a hard time containing the smile on her face, biting her bottom lip a lot to prevent it from showing. Same as she’s had a hard time keeping quiet with her guessing games of where Ethan’s taking her. The man’s unbreakable though, never once was he tempted to let her in on what he’s planned.

It’s been a year since the Baker incident and all the couple has done is switch from one coping mechanism to another. They got stuck in a sort of therapy-work-therapy cycle where they threw themselves in their work and periodically went to their psychiatric appointments, never daring to nudge the topic at home amongst themselves. It was enough that the whole night has remained as a dark cloud hanging over their heads, addressing it has simply been to painful so they’ve steered clear of the topic the best they could.

However, an important thing to note about this coping cycle they created is that it drove all the other mechanics in their lives and their relationship to become routinely and mechanic as well. There was little to no feeling in all they did - not that they ever did much together except have dinner and sometimes breakfast, both of them fully indulged in their work the rest of the day. Work became their therapy eventually, leaving little time for one another and for fixing what’s been broken between them. This conclusion bothered them both to no end but neither wanted to address it out of fear of disturbing the other.

Luckily, Ethan didn’t feel the need to bring it up before taking action.

“Here we are!“ He announces eventually, causing Mia to snap her head upwards without a second to spare, curious eyes doing the best they can to take in the dark surroundings.

Surprisingly enough, she doesn’t have any problem with the dark. What happened back in Louisiana didn’t give her a phobia of the dark or of ships as her therapist initially thought she’d develop. However, she’s got a huge fear of bugs and insects now - especially mosquitos. Count on her husband carrying anti bug spray wherever they go - now is no exception.

As her eyes slowly adjust to the darkness of their surroundings, it doesn’t take her a while to realize they’re in an open yet secluded field. She’s not the slightest bit surprised by where he’s taken her, in fact, she recognizes it immediately. It’s the spot of their first official date.

“Who knew going to that dorm party would be the best thing I’d do in my life.“ He mumbles under his breath, admiring the sparkles in her eyes as she takes in the beautiful field bit by bit, letting the reel of memories play back, taking her all the way back to that first year of college, that fateful night when they met, followed by the night they came to this field.

“Who knew overcoming my fear of heights at an early age would’ve helped me find the man I’d eventually marry.“ She replies, turning to look at him, their gazes locking in place, both of them no reminiscing on those events they hadn’t recalled in a very long time.

2006

The humidity doesn’t suggest that the summer months have already ended. In fact, the air is still as unbreathable as it was in July and August, making the students who have to return to their studies super conflicted, longing for those beach days with little to no responsibilities. Given that no one is ready for the school year to start, the professors included, the first few weeks of college have been rather stress-free for Ethan. Well, that is if you don’t include the agony of moving into college as a freshman from an entirely different state.

Why he chose to go to college in Texas is a question he still doesn’t have a proper answer to. It was an impulsive, basically overnight decision, one that rattled his parents to no end when he announced it. However, having his own income and savings for college purposes, they couldn’t really do much in stopping him but they didn’t support him either. They kept trying to change his mind until the very last day but alas he stood his ground and now here he is, in his college dorm, trying to read a book while there’s a raging party going on just two floors above. The music is so loud though that is sounds more like it’s taking place in his closet instead.

His roommate went up to help set the party up, only putting mild effort into getting his Cali-boy roommate to tag along and join the shenanigans which Ethan appreciated. Parties have never really been his scene so he knew he would’ve kept refusing no matter how much he tried getting him up there.

Finding the read hopeless due to the distractions, Ethan ditches the book and lays back on his bed staring at the ceiling, feeling like a fish out of water, ready to suffocate any minute. The AC in the dorm is faulty so it’s not serving its purpose properly, leaving the air at the same temperature as it would be had the device not been turned on at all. He’s stranded on things to do, feeling awfully caged in this new environment without any proper entertainment, going even as far as to second-guess if his parents were maybe right all along.

Fortunately for him, just then, his roommate bursts in, humming along to the song that’s currently being played at the party, never missing a tune even in his clearly intoxicated state.

“Hey Winters, aren’t you Californians supposed to know of a good time? You’re disappointing me right now.“ Jared slurs, laughing a bit as he leans against the wall to keep himself to his feet.

Ethan can’t help but scoff, “Thought I’d be a party animal? Sorry for the letdown.”

Jared laughs, shaking his head, “Come on, Cali. You have two semesters to be sulking around, it’s too early to start. Listen, one beer and thirty minutes, that’s all I’m asking you for. If you like it you can stick around. If not, feel free to leave. Just please give it a shot. How else are you supposed to make friends?”

Ethan stops to contemplate for a second, weighing his options. Jared takes this as a hopeful sign, seeing as how his offer wasn’t immediately turned down as it was the first time. Finally, the blond sighs in defeat: “Ok, but thirty minutes only.“ He says as he slides off the bed, briefly looking at himself in the mirror and deeming his appearance decent enough for a dorm party. As a very new student, he’d like to make a good first impression on his classmates but given that they’re all probably wasted, he’s not stressing too much over his looks at the moment.

Following Jared up to the floor of the party, he’s immediately handed a beer which he accepts with little hesitation. His roommate goes around introducing him to a few people before he disappears with some girl he claims has been his on-again-off-again girlfriend since sophomore year of high school - Sarah. Ethan, of course, doesn’t stop him despite hating the ide of finding himself stuck alone in a crowd of people he’s seeing for the first time in his life. Still, he sticks to the deal: thirty minutes and a beer...ok, two beers, but they’ve done nothing to make him enjoy this party.

So, off he goes to search for Jared to tell him he’s leaving. Thinking he saw the dark haired girl he went off with going up the stairs to the roof, he quickly follows.

Little does he know, that’s not the dark haired girl he’s looking for. That’s Mia

Mia, the rowdy, outgoing Texas tomboy who, unlike Ethan, thoroughly enjoys going to parties and having a good time with her friends and a few drinks. However, even a party animal such as herself sometimes needs to take a breather especially when people are smoking cigarettes as though they’re inhaling air and she’s never tried a cigarette in her life and is actually quite against the idea. She found this rooftop to be her prefect hideaway whenever she felt like her surroundings would suffocate her. Students were strictly instructed that climbing up there would earn them a penalty but that didn’t bother her in the slightest - She’s been frequenting the roof already and it’s been barely a week of her fresh start in college. Luckily, she got over her fear of heights at the tender age of twelve so this journey to quite a high point doesn’t pose as much stress as it would’ve about a decade ago.

As she lies on the floor, looking up at the starry night sky above, she nearly jumps out of her skin when another voice calls out to her presumably though it’s not using the correct name.

“Hey, um, S-Sarah? Have you seen Jared?“

Mia turns her head as she sits up, one eyebrow raised as she takes a good look at the silhouette which this voice belongs to. It’s pretty dark so even if she knew him, she wouldn’t be able to recognize him but judging by the voice, this is not someone she’s familiar with. And judging by the accent, this guy is not from around here.

“I’m not Sarah, but if you’re looking for Jared Letterwood, I can guarantee he’s in Sarah’s dorm.“ Mia chuckles, “I’d know. Sarah’s my roommate.“

Ethan cringes at the thought, “Yikes, you’ve got it rough. I mean, Jared’s my roommate but so far I haven’t had to leave the dorm for him to...you know. Hope I never have to.” Suddenly, an idea strikes him, “Wait, where are you gonna sleep tonight?”

She laughs, lying back down with her arms folded behind her head, “Right here.” She drags out the words as she adjusts her position a little, eyes fluttering closed. “Stargazing helps me fall asleep. The whole ambience up here is just...perfect, you know. Jared and Sarah are really doing me a favor.”

Ethan can’t help but scoff, “Call me crazy, but I’ve never stargazed in my life. I don’t know, never really saw the whole appeal. Sure, it’s cool to see in a movie or whatever, but it’s got no real purpose in real life. Not that I’m trying to bash your hobby or anything...”

Before the clueless blond could finish his statement, Mia’s already snapped up in a sitting position, giving him a narrow-eyed glare he can’t really see in the darkness. Her hand taps the spot next to her, “Don’t knock until you try it, Cali boy. Come’ere, see what you’re missing out on.”

Though reluctant, Ethan takes a few steps forward, stopping for a second to ask: “Wait, how’d you know I’m Californian?” Regardless of his confusion, he sits his ass down as he was told, awkwardly laying down so that there’s half a foot or less between their bodies so he doesn’t accidentally touch her and run the risk of freaking her out.

“I know a lot of things, Cali. Unfortunately, your name isn’t one of them. That being said, either you tell me it, or I’ll have to keep calling you Cali.“ She says teasingly.

“Ethan. My name’s Ethan.“ He says through a sigh, unable to contain the smile that spreads across his face.

A smile mimicking his appears on her face as well, “Nice to meet you, Ethan. The name’s Mia.“

Needless to say, the following morning Ethan woke up still on the roof, and surprisingly and terrifyingly enough, with the girl he barely met the night prior in his arms. Under the light of the newly rising day he could examine her features better, taking in her absolute beauty, her pale features contrasting her dark as the night hair. She’s still asleep so he can’t see her eyes but he has no doubt they are as beautiful as she is. Everything about her looks so delicate yet sharp simultaneously. And he’s simply in awe.

To avoid any awkwardness in case she wakes up, he falls back asleep, not even trying to remove his arms from around her body, silently hoping she won’t kick his ass for it. The next time he wakes up, an undecided amount of time later, he’s alone on the rooftop. Alone with a note that says: ‘Did you like it? If yes, I got a better stargazing spot to show ya. You know where to find me

~ M‘

“And boy, was I missing out on something.“ Ethan whispers, gently running his fingers through his wife’s hair as they lay in that same field she was referring to in her note to him, gazing up at the stars, limbs intertwined, bodies completely collided.

“Told ya. Stargazing is incredible, ain’t it?“ Mia replies, snuggling closer though that’s simply impossible.

Her husband chuckles, his chest rumbling with the noise, “That’s not really what I meant.”

Her brows furrow but she doesn’t look at him, “Oh? Then what did you mean?”

With a content sigh, he replies, “I was missing out on having you in my arms, falling asleep and waking up by your side.“ He says, his lips planting a gentle kiss at the top of her head that has her melting in his embrace.

Mia’s not the romantic nor cheesy half of this relationship, quite the opposite, but she feels emotions to a way deeper level than Ethan would imagine her feeling. So, thankful to the darkness, Mia allows her eyes to gloss over with emotional tears as she rises up to collide her lips with his in a soft and tender kiss.

“I missed you so much, Mia.“ Ethan whispers when they pull away, foreheads resting against each other.

“I promise to never make you miss me again, baby.“ She replies in a tone as hushed as his. As though they are both afraid someone would overhear this vow of theirs and try to force them to break it.

“That’s impossible.“ He says with a soft chuckle, “I always miss you at least a little.“

Mia hums in response, “Well, right now, you don’t have to miss me at all. I’m all yours. You’re the only thing on my mind, Mr. Winters.“

Even in the dark, she sees the grin that lights up his face, “As you are the only thing on mine, Mrs. Winters.” With that, their lips reestablish their contact, this time maintaining it longer, making it more passionate than before.

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hops-hunny · 3 years ago

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Distance Makes the Heart Grow

CHAPTER 8.5

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Mafia Boss!Neville Longbottom x Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2k

Summary: (Y/n) lives a normal life. But that’s the issue, it’s normal, it’s plain, and it’s growing boring. Everyday she wishes for something, anything to spice up her life. But, when her old school friend (and crush) shows up at her bakery with a new look (and what looks like a new life), what will it bring for her? Will their puppy love grow? Will his big secret lead to the end of them or will it spark a new beginning?

Warnings: none!

A/N: It took me a while but here’s chapter 8 but from Twyla and Seamus’s POV.

“Where are you going, Finnigan?” Harry asked, quirking a brow at him. Seamus smiled, winking some.

“Launching operation ‘make sure the date goes well’. You didn’t think I was gonna miss out on this did you?” Draco eyed him suspiciously as the vein in his forehead began to throb.

“Twyla set you up to this, didn’t she?” Seamus turned once he got to the doorway, flashing him a smile.

“ ‘Course she did!” Before anyone could protest he slammed the door behind him, instantly being greeted with Twyla standing in front of him. She had an unusually large purse attached to her shoulder, bouncing excitedly as he approached her. Her outfit was fully pink camo aside from her shirt which was a white. He eyed her curiously, snickering some. “So much for blending in.”

“Hey if I’m gonna blend in, I at least want it to be cute! Plus I don’t know how your Prada suit is going to help you blend in Finnigan.” she huffed, patting the side of her bag. “But that’s what these are for.” he looked at her in confusion, beginning the walk to the front of the villa.

“What’s in there?” he asked, attempting to peer into the bag. She clenched it closed, glaring at him.

“I’ll show you in the car. We just have to wait for them to pull off.” Twyla replied, pulling Seamus behind the large pillar on the porch. They both watched as Neville helped (Y/n) into the car before climbing in after her. Once the car was far enough out of view they both clammered to the other car in the driveway. The chauffeur eyed them quizzically.

“Mr.Longbottom didn’t mention his second car being taken out. Left over business Master Finnigan?” he questioned, opening the car door for the two of them. Seamus hummed to his question, closing the door after Twyla climbed in.

“Yeah, yeah something like that. Listen, I need you to follow them to their destination. No questions, got it?” the older man nodded, climbing into the driver’s seat before beginning to drive. After a short while they caught up to the car, watching as the two talked, laughing with each other. Seamus and Twyla both looked at the two intensely, squinting their eyes as if that would make the conversation magically easier for them to hear.

“This is pointless! We should’ve bugged the car.” Twyla exclaimed, flopping back into her seat. She was beyond frustrated. She knew the conversation was going well but she just wished she knew what they were saying. The part of her that felt like the girl’s older sister felt slightly protective of her, especially due to her reserved nature.

“It’s best not to worry about things we can’t change. Anyways, what’s in that bag of yours? You seemed pretty excited about it earlier.” Seamus asked, taking a swig from his flask. Twyla perked up at his words, placing the bag on the seat in between them. Unclasping the button, the contents were revealed.

“Ok, ok so! First off, we’ve got disguises. We definitely are going to need those.” he examined the wigs and mustaches that she placed in his lap. They were clearly great quality and in good condition despite their chaotic encapture in the confines of her purse. He nodded, waiting to see what she’d pull out next. “Then I’ve got these IDs in case, ya know, some legal trouble arises. We have plenty of identities to use.” he gasped at the IDs, eyeing them. They were really believable, not a detail out of place!

“Wow, these are extremely realistic, they look like the real thing! Where’d you get them?” he asked her. She laughed some, stuffing the wigs back into her purse.

“Who said they were fake?” he gawked at the girl as she continued to speak. “What? I found them on the ground in different places we’ve been. Besides, using a few stolen IDs is the least of your concerns! You’ve done far worse your entire time here.” she had a point, so he’d give that to her.

“Signor Finnegan, Singora Dundee, we’ve arrived. Would you like me to wait outside for you two?” he asked, as he opened the door for the two. Seamus slid a large noted bill into the pocket of the man’s suit jacket.

“Just wait around the area. Go explore, Giovani! I’ll call you when I need you.” he said smiling at the man as he pat his shoulder. The man’s eyes widened, smiling brightly as he bowed, tipping his hat at his superior.

“Grazie, Signor!” he thanked him before hopping back into the car. Twyla thanked the man as well as they made their way up the stairs of the restaurant. They watched as Neville had a melt down at the person behind the desk.

“Boss must be feeling nice today. I’ve seen him do far worse to people who question him.” he shrugged, opening the door as the couple began to walk off. “I wonder what the commotion was?”

“Name of Reservation?” that. How could they have forgotten reservations? Of course restaurants this high class were sure to have some sort of reservation system. Seamus wiped his hands on his pants, clearing his throat.

“Uh, Johnson?” he panicked, causing Twyla to hit his side. The girl behind the desk scanned the book before her eyes lit up. “Ah, Signor Johnson! Right this way sir.”

“Nice save.” Twyla whispered to him. However as their waiter lead them one way, Neville’s began to go another. “A-actually can we have a change of tables? We’d like one angled from the one with the view. Signor Johnson here loves to admire the scenery, isn’t that right?” Twyla inquired, watching as Seamus nodded along giving the waiter a hopeful smile. The waiter sighed before smiling back. She giggled some, eyeing Seamus up.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

--------------------------

“Man, this bread is amazing! And can you believe this wine is free too?!” Twyla asked, crumbs falling from her mouth as she washed down her bread with another drink of wine. Their table had been positioned perfectly, giving them a dead-on view of the two. They had been observing carefully, awing at the cute kisses they’d share and turning away when silence would grow over them. A few times the two had to stop each other from waltzing over there and doing something about it.

“Who said the wine is free?” he asked, laughing at the girl’s shocked expression.

“Dray will cover it, I’m sure he won’t mind.” she said, shrugging as she poured herself another glass.

“Yeah, he really likes you, ya know? I overheard him gushing about you to Blaise and..” Seamus’s voice began to grow muted as a feeling overcame Twyla. It was one she knew all too well. Ever since she could remember, Twyla had always had a sixth sense for knowing when things were about to happen. It was like intuition times ten. Most of the time the things she’d feel were so specific that she knew instantly but now? She didn’t know what but she knew something was coming.

“Seamus, something’s about to happen right now. I can just sense it.” Seamus tensed at her words, reaching for the holster hidden on him.

“Something like what? Like danger?” he asked, sitting up straight as he began to grow alert, looking carefully around the restaurant.

“No, more like drama….in really cheap perfume.” she said. He went to ask what but was cut off from a scoff to their side.

“It sounds like you may be smelling yourself, no?” a thick, high pitch french voice sounded off. They both groaned in unison. The man reached for his glass, downing the rest of his wine before he stared at Gisele intensely.

“Why are you here, Gisele?” he said, annunciating each of his words. It was clear from his tone and disposition that the last person he wanted to see tonight was her. Especially after the warning he had given her in the museum. Her smile grew wider, resembling one of a horse.

“I was just having a bit of a meal, you know, before my big show tomorrow. Celebrating my success early.” she noticed the empty chairs at their table, a light bulb going off in her head. “Say...Neville wouldn’t happen to be here with you would he? Well what a dumb question that is! Wherever you are he’s sure to be leading in some way.”

“He’s not here with us.” Twyla said, standing up in attempts to intimidate the woman. However she just continued to smile with the same stupid smile on her face.

“I see...so he’s here with someone else?” Twyla froze, mouth agape as she looked at the woman. “Ohh I know what’s going on. He’s here with that decoy and doesn’t even know that the two of you are here.” she looked between Twyla and Seamus, satisfied that she had them figured out. “Well if you wanna keep it that way, I suggest you stay here.” and with that she began to walk towards Neville and (Y/n).

“I say we just go after her.” Seamus blurted, beginning to stand up as Gisele began to converse with them. Twyla’s eyes widened, wrapping her hand around his wrist as she dragged him back down.

“We can’t just go over there! Do you know how upset they’d be if they knew we followed them?” she hissed, causing him to sigh, giving her an annoyed look. “Listen, I know you’re worried. So am I! But we’ve gotta watch how it plays out first! Who knows they may surprise us!” Seamus nodded, sitting back in his chair fully. However, she could tell he still wasn’t satisfied. Looking down at her purse, her eyes lit up.

“Hey! Why don’t we put our disguises on that way if it escalates, we’ll be ready! Besides, I wonder what you’ll look like with ginger hair.” she said, wiggling the ginger wig towards him, poking him in the shoulder with her free hand. He looked between her and the wig before grabbing it, putting it on. After it was situated on his head, she handed him the matching mustache and mutton chops to go along with it. Once he was situated, he turned to ask Twyla a question but was caught off guard. She had on a short black wig, a set of bushy brows and a mustache to match. They sat in silence as they looked at each other before they began to howl with laughter, cutting each other off with wheezing and swear words.

“My dress! Look what you did to me!” they heard a loud annoying voice yell, causing the restaurant to grow quiet, including them. They looked at each other before nodding, beginning to walk over to the table. Twyla waved her hand, a set of matching restaurant uniforms appearing on top of them.

“Is there a problem ma’am? Sir?” Seamus asked, causing the three to turn towards them. He had to stop himself from laughing at the way the vein on his boss’s forehead began to twitch. (Y/n) went to say something but Twyla stopped her, holding a finger up to her on mustached lip.

“Yeah we got a complaint from the head chef. You’re to be escorted out of here immediately. Come along now.” Twyla said, gripping Gisele’s arm. As they began to drag her away, she leaned close to the woman’s ear. “Checkmate.” she whispered, watching as the woman’s eyes grew in size. She began to stutter as the two dragged her out, tossing her to the curb roughly.

“You idiots! You blew your cover, now what are you going to do?” she asked in a gotchaesque tone. Seamus scoffed, beginning to walk to the car. Giovani had returned, a smile on his face and a new pair of sunglasses along with it. He turned once more to look at her.

“We’re done, our job is complete.” he responded, hopping in the car as he waited for Twyla.

“Yeah? And what’s that?” she asked, still on the side of the curb. Giovani moved the car a bit, a stray puddle “accidentally soaking Gisele head to toe. The pair looked at each other smirking before turning their attention back to the model.

“Taking out the trash.”

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ccelinewritess · 4 years ago

Text

the distance between us

pairing- draco malfoy x reader

word count- 9.7k

summary- the first time draco uses the muggle post system, it goes so terribly wrong, and a letter falls into the hands of a girl who was never supposed to see it, a muggle at that.

warnings- curse words, ptsd, anxiety/ panic attacks, depression mention of death, murder, blood and burns aswell as insomia, seperation anxiety (?) and my grammar.if these may trigger you, i suggested not reading.

a/n- this took me a while to get out, sry abt that. the reader was set to live in a canadian town called kelowna, british columbia. it takes place in readers grade 11/12 and dracos 6/7 year. i hope it’s not to self inserted, and you guys can enjoy and relate to it. big thank you to @dracodear for the help on this, love you! also thanks to everyone who left owl name suggestions, all were awesome and i ended up going with @winnsmills suggestion ‘noctua’ ! tumblrs been acting weird, so i hope it lets me post the whole thing. letters are in italics. also please note, this is off the movies timeline! i tried to fit in as many details as possible but some didn’t make it.

the town was widespread. wineries and mountains everywhere, the okanagan lake splitting it down the middle, reconnecting the cities halves by a bridge. little snow and tons of rain. jeep wranglers in every colour roaring around into unholy hours of the night, bustling with life yet all to lonely at times. but hey, that’s kelowna for you.

rain was running down the windows of y/ns most boring class, last period biology. she knew she should be paying attention. she had a high gpa to maintain, and couldn’t afford to fail another class besides french. the last five minutes of blabbering ended after what felt like a year.

‘you are dismissed, ill see you all monday, have a good weekend’ and with that everyone rose, heading to the parking lot as fast as possible in an attemp to dodge traffic. despite pouring rain, the air was hot, and on the ride home y/ns mind raced over every single assignment she had to complete over the next two days, while her hands tapped the steering wheel.

‘english essay, math review, history paper, business management graph’ she muttered under her breath. the town was busy, many students often blew off class to go shopping, or hit a movie, or smoke weed, the possibilities were endless. her house was cool compared to outside, and empty. no one was home, not that it was a surprise to the girl, people weren’t usually home, siblings gone to university, and parents working absurd amounts.

something caught her eye on the counter, an envelope, an ordinary seeming one, but absolutely covered in small pictured stamps with ‘england’ underneath each one. eighteen of them, all different. she knew shouldn’t open it, so she didn’t. at first. but it was irresistible. there was a return address written in the smallest writing she’d ever seen. wogshell, no, wiltshire? she took it to her room, and locked the door before ripping it open. she didn’t want the one time she had something intresting going on to be interrupted by whoever might show up.

her mouth fell open at every line of the same scroll. who was snape? why was this draco boy sending him a letter? he didn’t need his help to kill who? what the fuck was an unbreakable vow and why shouldn’t snape sign it? why was his mum going to see snape? who was the dark lord and why did he pick draco for a task? what kind of name is dumbledore?

what she already knew was confirmed- this letter was most definetly not for her. but newly- she opened a letter from a potential murderer or maybe it was a prank, a sick prank if it was one.

so instead she crafted up quite the response, whoever wrote this was either hysterical or in distress, and needed some sort of company- she thought, atleast.

it had been thirteen days, why wasn’t the letter back yet? the owl still couldn’t fly even about the house without damaging itself further. maybe using the muggle post system was a mistake. but better have it land into the hands of a muggle, who would likely throw it out, than a wizard who would know a death eater would soon be wondering around hogwarts.

as if on que, the door bell rang and echoed through the empty manor. on the porch sat an envelope, with only one stamp, his name in the middle and another he didn’t recognize in the corner. shit, this couldn’t be good. his eye caught the stamp. canada? fuck, this was supposed to go to cokeworth not bloody canada. no one was home so he opened it right there in the foyer.

hello, draco.

i am not snape- nor do i know who snape is. i am also very unfimilar with some of the vocabulary you used. dark lord? unbreakable vow? you seem to have quite the situation going on, if i read correctly. im not exactly stupid, but i do know that this letter was most definitely not supposed to be in my possession. i didn’t know who to send it to, id send it back to you, but you probably don’t want a copy of your own letter. i also know you likely have enough on your plate, but if you’d like someone to talk to im only half a world away, have no sort of schedule and am a good listener, well reader in this case. good luck with whatever task you’ve mentioned. p.s. you had about seventeen stamps to many, first time sending a letter? unfortunate fate, huh ? what kind of name is snape and what the heck is a dumbledore? i suppose it’s none of my business, knowing you likely won’t respond, but if you do i wrote my address on the front. have a good day/ night/ whatever time it is wherever you are.

y/n l/n

tears were welling in dracos eyes, he was floored, in a good and bad way. his task was already going downhill. the letter he sent snape had fallen into the hands of a muggle, who did not throw the letter away, but responded. and snape was likely going to bine himself into the task through the unbreakable vow, which draco was more than able to complete. he wouldn’t have been chosen if he wasn’t, right?

not only had she responded, she offered him help, well distant company, to a stranger who obviously had quite a few problems and she clearly had no regard for her own safety. he couldn’t tell her about the wizarding world. not that he could tell her about anything, she could be lying. he had a task to focus on, he couldn’t write her back.

and that was true- at the time. he had no intent of writing the girl back. and yet he found himself reading the 201 words over and over, running his hands across the paper, expecting them to fade away as he wiped. counting and recounting. he surely couldn’t talk to any of the twats at hogwarts, maybe a stranger could help numb the pain. and as long as he didn’t tell anyone- she couldn’t get hurt, she was to far.

draco was packed for hogwarts, the response at the bottom of the trunk, underneath his clothes. he’d just have to get to the damn school, then he could write all he wanted- without his parents knowledge or ridicule. his mind jumbled together what he was going to say while his friends rambled on. the train pulled up to the castle after dreadful hours and he could barely sit still during the opening feast. his thoughts did falter though, when dumbledore gave his speech, he felt guilty- the shame of his family weighing on his shoulders. he looked around, all his classmates staring in adoration at a man who would be dead ten months from now, and they were sitting in the same room as his killer.

the singular room was nice, he knew it wasn’t for lounge, but for plots of death.

before he began he started making promises to himself. if i get behind on the plan ill won’t write, if snape notices anything about it, ill stop. the list went on and on.

he couldn’t put his pen down, the words continued to fly out the end, was he oversharing?

dear y/n

my deepest apologies that my last letter found it’s way to you. im sure you didn’t expect whatever you may have perceived from it. honestly, i don’t know how it arrived all the way over there. im almost positive you have better things to do than listen to my problems, and i know you had no control over the fact it arrived, but i ask you to please not share this information with anyone. i am unsure if i will take up your offer of amity, if you were serious that is. im at school now, so if you’d like to respond, not that you have to- you can send letters back with my owl, it’ll be faster (and i won’t have to worry about stamps- thanks for the tip by the way)

draco malfoy

and with that noctua was off into the night, and he could only hope that it would make it to her.

droll was running down y/ns chin and she was caught in a dream. suddenly a vigorous tapping on the window pulled her into consciousness, the sight of owl knocking her backwards in a scare. a crash sounded, if the tapping didn’t wake anyone up, that surely did. she almost considered just trying to ignore it, until she noticed a letter tied to its neck and reluctantly opened the window. she’d never seen an owl in real life before, but was aware from school that they weren’t exactly the kindest of creatures. this one just perched on the window while she removed the new enevelope, no stamps in sight. just a neatly printed address, and his in the corner.

from the new letter she learned even more- this wasn’t a prank, draco was a real person, was still in school, and whatever the first misplaced letter contained was true. he had some sort of task and didnt want help, but that was all. so with what she could, she wrote another response. it took an hour and she wasn’t exactly sure what she had written by mid morning.

draco

you’d be quite suprised actually, it gets lonely over here. i still haven’t exactly deciphered your original note, so if you would like to help me understand i think i’d be ready. and no worries about me, my lips are sealed. what is an unbreakable vow, im curious? you go to boarding school? and owls, really? what the hell is up with that? im pretty sure it’s illegal to own one here, but we are countries away, so perhaps it’s different all the way over there. send whatever you want. i do not- by the way- have anything better to do in the slightest.

y/n

he continued to write throughout the month of september, which bled into october before he knew it. he was avoiding questions about the task, just wanting someone to talk to. it wasn’t easy, she was curious, which draco couldn’t exactly be mad at her for that since he continued to write her, accepting the distant friendship that was forming.

he was learning a lot about her aswell. besides french, which he informed her he spoke fluently numerous times, she was a very good student. she was single, he didn’t remember how that came up but made a note in his mind- he couldn’t date her, nor did he know enough about her to be properly involved.

she read a lot of books, sappy romances mostly, couldn’t cook anything deemed edible by anyone, and her favourite colour was green, he smirked when reading that for the first time. she didn’t know what she wanted to do with her future, just not a doctor like her parents wanted.

y/n was sitting in english as her teacher reviewed about univeristy application requirements. only next year they would be getting accepted and denied from their dream schools. she’d spent years dreaming of it, university, and yet somehow a boy half way around the was racing through her mind. she felt horrible about it, the small crush. it was incredibly selfish, falling for a boy with so much going on, he certainly didn’t need her as anything more than a friend to talk to, but he was good with his words, and making her feel important too. her dismissal came and so did a classmate, approaching confident and cocky.

‘hey, l/n’ he said, a smirk on his face

‘oh, uh hey, will’

‘what are doing tonight?’ her mind went blank, any excuse, come on, say something

‘i have plans’ wow real specific, great job, y/n

‘like what’

‘fish funeral, real important stuff, my family is just devastated’ her voice was clearly sarcastic and that was all before she walked right out. no she didn’t exactly have plans, but waiting for dracos owl provided much more company than any date could have. the sight of dracos owl flying towards the pre-opened window was somewhat relieving, she didn’t know why, just the fact that he had not failed yet, and was still out there was nice. she hadn’t had this much company. since last year at least, when her supposed best friend started ghosting her because of some petty shit.

thankfully noctua ad gotten quite good at being discreet when delivering the letters. of all the things on y/ns junior year bucket list, explaining to her parents that she had befriended a british boy with an owl who flyed into her room while her neighbours had a clear view, wasn’t one. she also began keeping a bowl of water under her bed for the owl to drink when it arrived, knowing it couldn’t have been easy travelling back and forth.

y/n

im not fully sure you want to know the depth, yet you seem to want me to corrupt you with my villain with a task baggage. i suppose it couldn’t hurt if i told you about the unbreakable vow. it’s like a promise or a bond, but if you break it then you die. if you can stomach that i may be able to tell you more. how far away do you reckon we are?

draco

draco wasn’t falling behind too far, but his first attemp had failed, and panic attacks were taking up most his time. he never had any, at least not this bad until this year. at least once a day he would start sweating, no matter how cold he was, unable to control his breathing or tears, feeling like the walls were caving in upon him.

that is, besides writing y/n as much as he could. apparently she was being honest, she had no schedule of any sort besides going to school. he hated to say, but he was becoming attached, he didn’t exactly know how either, but everytime he recieved a letter a small weight was lifted from his shoulders, even just when he read it.

noctua was doing the weekly, almost daily round at breakfast with the other owls and draco watched with anticipation as a letter dropped on his lap and owl on his shoulder. he tried to conceal the letter into his robes but pansy had taken matters into her own hands. likely jealous that she’d spent collectively around six hours with him the whole year, and he never talked to her like he used to.

‘ou draco whats this’ twirling the envelope between her hands. the letter had no name, no stamp, only a small heart drawing in the corner.

‘hands off parkinson’ he said while taking the letter back. ‘a letter from my mother, if you must know’ he said knowing that neither his mother or father had written him anything, despite having all the time to do so.

he got up and left the second he was done, not wanting to draw snapes suspicion about who could possibly be more important than working on this task.

he rushed to his room, desperate for more of her words. he tried to picture her voice in his head, but had to remind himself she wasn’t british nor was she from southern america.

draco,

so you just die if you break the promise? intresting. it’s not as hard to stomach as you seem to think, very unique tradition i suppose. you are not a villain draco, you haven’t told me much about it but your to good of a person to have picked any of this for yourself. i calculated when we you were home, seven thousand three hundred something, i don’t know where your fancy boarding school where you have owls for pets is, so it may be further. im ready whenever you are.

y/n

her letter was relieving for him aswell, even in the slightest it helped, but she deserved some sort of answer for helping him take his mind off the task for a couple minutes. he could tell if she wasn’t scared off already, this would do it.

y/n

if you are sure, here it is. dumbledore is my headmaster, the dark lord is a very powerful wizard, and snape is my professor. if i don’t kill dumbledore before july, he will kill me and my family, if i can’t complete the task, snape will kill him under terms of an unbreakable vow. im not a very good villain that’s for sure, my first attemp failed, and my classmate is out cold. i understand if you dont want to write to me anymore, just don’t tell anyone about this, please.

dm.

the only words to describe the feeling that overwhelmed her senses as she read were devastation and shock. tears pooled in her eyes as she tried to imagine herself with that much responsibility to wildhold until july. another detail that caught her eye, wizard? what did he mean by wizard? is that the word for dictator in england? certainly he wasn’t talking about the wizards she read about in storybooks as a child. her hand shook slightly and she debated mentioning it.

draco

you’re silly if you think i’d stop writing you. you need company now more than ever. please don’t hold things back from your letters, you deserve someone to talk to. that is quite the situation, im sorry if i pushed you, you do have enough on your shoulders and i want to help you as much as i can. i hate to ask, but you mentioned ‘wizards’ and i am a bit confused.

all my love

initially, draco went into shock. he knew he was probably oversharing, but didn’t expect to slip up in that way. he begrudgingly admitted; knowing that if this went badly he would likely be banished from the wizarding world, which didn’t seem like such a horrible punishment to him anymore. and yet she was fascinated, by the coins he sent her, the subjects he learned- which she compared to her own much less exciting ones, and everything he told her about it. he could now talk to her about much more, since both his secrets were now out in the open to her. he told her about the about the houses, and they both agreed she would probably be in hufflepuff, well he thought so, her kind and accepting nature, and she didn’t know enough to disagree. and for the first time in the long time he was seeing things differently, completely diminishing the rude behaviour he often displayed towards the house.

she even sent him a picture, the first time he ever saw her face. a large smile spread across her beautiful features, she seemed to be laughing. eyes glistening in the sun even prettier than he could have imagined. he slept with it under his pillow, and could stare at the still image for hours. no it didn’t move around, but he couldnt care less. he only had one picture of himself in his possession and he was young, about four. she was facinated by the moving image, his blonde hair and attitude shining right through. he would owl his mother for a more recent one, but didn’t want to explain why.

the letters were helping him, but the task wasn’t advancing. his second attempt had failed, he was caught sneaking into slughorns party, and harry was onto him. they were also causing him doubt. say they did get the cabinet fixed, he couldn’t see himself killing dumbledore anymore, the more he talked to her he realized he couldn’t be a killer, as cold as he was to some people, but he had to, didnt he?

most importantly every letter she sent gave him a sense of hope. that the second this is over he could move. away from voldemort, and potter, his parents even, england in whole. perhaps not to canada, but it could be a change, half way across the world with the girl who was helping him stay alive through his letters. he just needed to stay alive long enough too see her.

the seasons changed around draco, but his room stayed the same. hot from mysterious potions, for himself and some for dumbledore, he had not had much hope after the wine, though. it was lonely, not that he’d like y/n here, he’d much rather be there, all the way across the world.

may came in a blur, and finals were creeping up. one week y/n sat at her desk, every night, waiting for a letter that didn’t come. on the fifth letterless day she cried. not exactly knowing why, it wasn’t her that had much of a reason to cry, but dracos company had filled her lonely life up with light of its own, leaving it darker than it was before she saw the first letter. she was silly to be so attached and silly to expect him to reciprocate the feelings she had proclaimed in the last one she sent, and should have expected him to stop eventually. so she continued on with school, finding it a bit easier to concentrate now that a draco sized whole was missing from her brain, and her heart aswell.

the next week, though, a letter came, very appreciated by y/n as the whole other universe, british boy forgetting thing wasn’t as easy as it seemed.

y/n

im sorry for not writing, the classmate i mentioned all those months ago woke from the curse, and the potter twat hexed me with a spell id never heard of before. i would have tried to contact with you but i couldn’t exactly trust what my brain was planning on writing, and the cuts are still a bit sore. the cabinets fixed, but even if everything works out okay i won’t be writing very much at all. i’ll be home in july, but the manor will be infested with death eaters and i can’t let you get hurt. thank you for everything l/n.

draco

it stung a little, knowing that the empty feeling the girl just experienced would be more frequent, he didn’t mention anything about what she had said, and that this could be the last time she ever heard from him if he didn’t kill dumbledore. in hindsight, practically telling her she loved him in a letter wasn’t what he needed, she knew that.

he left out the fact that he the spell put a him in a huge emotinal draught. he was exhausted constantly, crying even more than before. the cuts were sore, so he wasn’t holding everything back.

the last month of school came and went all to fast for dracos liking, and death eaters now roamed around the castle, causing havoc where ever they could. his trunk had been shurken so small it looked like a small muggle toy he put into his pocket easily. the dark mark that was stretched across his left arm was now hanging in the gray sky, and the headmaster was no where to be seen. he paced anxiously around a vacant corridor until he heard a pop in the astronomy tower. he didn’t think people could apparate into hogwarts, it would have made his job much easier.

‘harry, get snape, i need snape now’ he seemed exhausted, maybe this wouldn’t be as hard

‘sir im going to sit you down okay, and then ill go get madam pomf-‘

‘severus, harry, I need severus now, go get him and talk to no one else’ he said in a shallow yet somewhat urgent and angry tone.

draco waited for footsteps to disappear, before whipping the door open with his wand already ready.

‘oh hello, draco, nice to see you on this fine evening’ he said nonchalantly, leaning his weight against the wall.

‘EXPELLIARMUS’ draco boomed, successfully disarming the man without counter attempts before glancing around to see a second broom

‘who else is here?’ he said sounding confident but feeling the opposite

‘i could ask you the same question, acting alone are you? you don’t seem supported’

‘no, there are death eaters in your school tonight, and i got them here’ he snarked ‘they’ll be up, any minute now, their fighting down below. i’ve got a job to do’

‘well done boy, if you don’t mind me asking a few questions, before you get on with it, im very intrested’ was he kidding? he knew draco was about to kill him right? wanting to stall, and not fully wanting to kill him he nodded his head yes.

‘you seem scared to act until they join you

‘im not scared, you should be scared’ he snarled, unable to contain the fear in his voice any longer any longer

‘oh draco’ he sighed ‘while we wait for your friends arrive, care to explain how you smuggled them in here? i never imagined it possible, especially not by a student’

‘i had to mend the broken cabinet that no ones used for years, there’s another one in borgin and burkes. montague got stuck in told everyone stories about it, how he could sometimes hear what was going on in the shop and sometimes hear hogwarts like a passage, and i was the only one who discovered what it meant. not even borgin, not you either, i did it right under your nose, you didn’t realize anything’ he said

‘you are right, i didn’t know that. i do- on the other hand, know that you aren’t a killer’

he raised his wand a little higher, feeling wheezy and as though his legs would give in any second

‘how you know that, I’ve done despicable things, you wouldn’t even be able to fathom’

it was dumbledore’s time to pause, glancing up at the sky and looking around the room before continuing

‘draco i know you almost killed katie bell and ron weasley. you’ve been trying to kill me all year, forgive me for saying this, but they’ve been very feeble attempts. to be honest ive wondered wheather your heart has truly been in it’

‘it has, and if you knew why didnt you stop me’

‘snape has been watching over you on my orders’

‘ it’s not on your orders, he promised my mother-‘

‘ofcourse he would tell you that, but it happens to be that i trust professor snape’

‘your losing it then, he’s a double agent, he isn’t working for you- he’s been trying to get in on the action all year, helping me and all. doesn’t matter now- he probably doesn’t even know they are here yet, he will wake up tomorrow and no longer be the dark lords favourite, he will be nothing compare to me’ confidence was building within him

‘very gratifying, we all like being recognized for our hard work, but, draco?im standing here wandless and weak, unable to defend myself, and you have not made any move to kill me, dont blame me for believing you will not, but let’s discuss your options’

‘my options’ he laughed ‘im standing here with a wand, about to kill you’

‘oh dear boy, if you were going to kill me you would have when you disarmed me, not stayed for a little chat’

‘i haven’t got any options, don’t you understand, i have to kill you, or he will kill me’

‘okay, if you don’t want to join the order with your mother where we could protect you, i only have one more question’

‘better hurry, theyre on their way’ he almost laughed which was quickly replaced when Dumbledore said his next words.

‘who is y/n l/n’ at that a tear fell down dracos face, and he lowered his wand almost completely

‘i-i don’t know who that is, odd l-last words’ he stuttered

‘draco dont play dumb now, not after we discovered you are very intelligent. we left some of the security measures from last year that Umbridge enabled, and I couldn’t help but notice hundreds of letters flowing to and from her. i looked into student files, ilvermornies too, nothing, id never heard the name, a muggle i presumed. but of all the things, that had me the most confused. i couldn’t figure out why you would be contacting her, so i did some meddling’

‘WHAT DID YOU DO’

‘fiesty all the sudden, are you? i felt bad after opening this, it seemed very personal, and i probably should given it too you sooner, but i was a bit preoccupied double checking my drinks and all’ dumbledore said handing him the letter.

draco

how is the cabinet coming? it’s raining even more here than usual, all day and night. and don’t talk like that, saying you don’t have a future. you do draco, you deserve another chance and infinite amounts of them. you are just a kid, you shouldn’t be forced to be a hero. you are protecting so many people right now, but i don’t need any. you have given my life enough light in the last few months than i ever recall, and im so thankful that letter came to me. i wish you were here with me right now, but i know you can’t be, so just stay alive, okay?

y/n

more tears fell, he hated being so weak at the mention of her, crying before he completed the blessing his father and bellatrix considered the task to be.

‘she’s right, draco, you deserve another chance’

he was speechless, and could tell Dumbledore knew he found his weakness.

‘i always pictured you and pansy, never in a million years imagined you to be in a relationship with a muggle’

‘no matter who does it, your about to be killed, and im not here to discuss my love life am i?’

‘so you do love her?’ before draco could even think he heard a door open and raised his wand, hiding the letter faster than he had ever moved.

‘shut up, they will kill her’ he said quietly and desperately

in walked fenrir greyback, yaxley, and bellatrix. they made banter of their own, but her words replayed. he couldn’t do it.

‘go on draco’ his aunt whispered into his ear, making him shiver.

‘DO IT, DO IT BOY’ she yelled, in a high pitched and annoying voice

he felt a strong arm over his chest, pushing him aside, and he saw the whoosh of snapes robes and an already pleading dumbledore

‘severus, please’

‘AVADA KEDAVRA’ snape shouted, a green flash producing from the end of his wand, hitting the old man square in the chest. draco rushed over to the edge, watching him fall. it was a long way down.

the rain had sudsided, sunlight leaking into her room during the day. watching the sky at night, failing to find constellations he described many times to her. her wardrobe was mostly untouched, remaining in pyjamas most of the week. the odd time she did leave, she saw her old friends walking and laughing out her car window. eating and socializing felt like a chore, and she hadn’t communicated with the boy since may. he could be dead, she didn’t know. there was no death on the ‘muggle’ news, and draco wasn’t on the top wanted list, not that he likely would be on the television all the way over here. he could be fine, in wiltshire, going to dinner parties and holding balls. or maybe, he too, was sitting in his room staring at the ceiling for days on end. she had now hung the picture of a young draco by her desk, not needing to worry about anyone seeing. her siblings were once again home, but out living their lives so much that it still felt like they were gone. for the first time she noticed his scroll on the back.

‘i was four when this was taken i believe, my hair is very similar, i was quite sassy, im sure that shows without explanation.’ she blushed while reading, it was true. his hands were on his hips whipping his head around.

every day was a surprise around malfoy manor. not the kind of surprise draco liked. not the feeling of butterflies in his stomach when he read y/ns letters, those were replaced by a pit as they were summoned around the large table in the dining room. the first one he attended was horrible, watching his muggle studies teacher being hung above their heads, pleading for the help of severus as she died. he bit his tongue in an attempt to avoid raging about about every comment surrounding muggle culture. each one tore his heart, as he imagined the girl all those kilometres away, the girl he had no contact with, but he looked at her picture as much as possible, and hoped one day he could make her smile again like she did in the image.

senior year was here, and y/n schedule picked up once again. her timetable was full, maybe it was best, a distraction, after a whole summer of thinking alone in her room. draco was on her mind at night, no matter how hard she tried to forget. she’d made friends with her creative promotions partner, logan. he was certainly not intrested in her in anyway besides friends, but company after all this time was enjoyable, just in the hour of class

draco had little privacy, with death eaters in every hallway, conversing with eachother. wherever he went someone was there, until he finally got sick of it and began going to the garden bench. with a book, sometimes, giving some of the sappy love stories y/n mentioned a try or even the poetry books she sent with noctua awhile back, they were okay, but his heart hurt at the feeling of relation in every line. he could only read one or two poems at a time, without tears forming in his green orbs.

sometimes he went with a pen and a notebook. he wrote about everything. the smell of the plants around him, the feeling in his chest when the dark lord called for a meeting. most of the notebook, though, was filled with poems of his own. and letters he had no intention of sending for her own safety. she wasn’t in harms way, though, other followers were preoccupied with ruining weddings and other things they considered fun. he blabbered on for pages, about how he missed seeing noctua fluttering towards him at breakfast. how he rereads the letter that dumbledore gave him the night he died. how she listened to him rant on and on, giving her support no matter how evil he felt. how he found love where it wasn’t supposed to be.

snow was falling once again, he had to dress in layers, making it hard to write often, the plants started dying as cold settled over and his mother no longer babied him like she used to before the death eaters began inhabiting the mansion. he couldn’t keep himself company any longer and gave into the pressure he put on himself. as long as they were careful, she’d be in no destruction- he prayed as he wrote what seemed to be an appropriate response after all this time.

like it had been decades, she flinched at the noise of the owl on the window, carrying a much larger scroll that he’d ever sent before, some parts scratched out and written above. his writing was much less tidy than she remembered, like the letters on the page were anxious for her reaction.

love,

after all this time, im sorry you are just now hearing from me. you have ever single right to be annoyed with me, after you listened to me for months, helping me emotionally in ways i never be able to repay you for. you do not need to forgive me, or write me back. i just wanted to keep you safe. but i needed to tell you everything before it might actually be to late. you’ve probably moved on and forgotten about me, like you should, but i guess im saying that i am alive. i didn’t kill him either. snape did. i thought i was going to be able to, but he started talking about you. he gave me a letter from you that he had already opened, the words repeated in my head over and over. you talked about how i deserved another chance, and how you wish I’d was there with you. right before he died he asked me if i loved you. i knew the answer but didn’t have time to say it. ive read your poetry books, they aren’t as bad as i once thought, i can’t read to many at once. i try to forget what dumbledore said that night, and that night altogether. but one day i read ‘that’s how you know you love someone, i guess. when you cant experience anything without wishing the other person was there to see it too.’ when i sit in the garden i imagine you smelling the flowers, myself picking one and putting it behind your ear. when i go on walks i imagine your hand in mine. youre in my dreams. my never ending thought. i remember the way i felt when we started talking a lot, and how I felt when we didn’t get a chance. you listened to me when no one else offered. not even my parents. i hope your doing okay, and smiling and laughing. i don’t care if we talk about absolutely nothing, i just want to talk to you. i know that’s unfair to you after all ive weighed on you. but i guess that’s all, i love you. draco ♡

well this certainly didn’t get him off her mind. she didn’t need to either. ofcourse she was going to write him back, but she needed time to think about her response. she missed the next day of school, and his owl was comfortably standing on her desk, nibbling away at the water and crumbs. she took an hour long shower, multiple naps, raided her fridge, and had to email the school pretending to be her mum, excusing her for the day. before she even knew what she was going to write, she began on a new piece of paper. she’d have thought longer, but was sure draco would be convinced she stole noctua out of anger.

draco,

wow. i don’t really know what to say. i knew you weren’t a killer, and i meant what i said about you deserving more chances. i will admit i was angry, and a bit confused. i sent that letter with high hopes. i don’t know what i was hoping for at the time, i was being incredibly selfish. but couldn’t help myself feel pained when you didn’t mention it in the next letter when you said harry hexed you. i know we can’t be together, especially not right now, but i love you too. i wish more than anything you were here with me right now, and it was you i’d be graduating with half a year from now. i wish you were in the passenger seat of my car while i drive through the city. i wish you could point out the constellations in the sky. i usually can’t read to many poems either, they get me thinking to much. im ready to write again if you are.

y/n

draco hadn’t felt more joy in a long time. around seven months. she loved him, and that was enough happiness for a life time. he just needed to stay alive.

they continued to stay in touch, almost as if they never stopped talking, entertaining eachother as much as possible, masking their separate misery and the distance between them. he could get time away from the reality that was his life for a while, he thought, until snatchers brought the trio he spent so long bickering with to the manor.

a very distorted looking harry fell before him, his hair tightly gripped by bellatrix.

‘well, is it him’ he knew it was harry. and yet a part of him couldn’t bring himself to letting the boy get killed.

‘i can’t be sure’ he lied

‘draco, look closely son’ lucius said loudly, getting a grip on the back of dracos neck before leaning in and whispering.

‘if we are the ones that hand potter to the dark lord, all will be f-forgiven. a-all will go back to how it was’

his father and the and a snatcher quickly got into an arguement. lucius was yelling something about the manor before narcissa calmed him with a hiss.

‘don’t be shy, sweetie come here take a closer look’

draco was know level with him. the scar was still visible on his forehead, and swollen eyes staring back at him, hopeless.

‘what’s wrong with his face’ draco said

‘yes what is wrong with the boys face’ a shrill voice repeated

‘he was like that when we got him, something he picked up in the forest i reckon’

bellatrix walked away, laughing away at something. the blonde boys eyes were still on harry, before he felt a tap on his shoulder. bellatrix began acting out, yelling about a sword, putting ropes around snatchers neck from the end of her wand. sword now in her hand she walked over to ronald weasley, grabbing his collar and demanding that the boys be put in the cellar.

a different draco would have gladly watched a mudblood be tortured by his aunt. but he flinched at every scream of hermione, unable to watch he went to the next room, resisting tears as he thought of the girl he fell for enduring the same. she had moved onto the goblin- ridiculing it about who got into her vault- and hermiones screams were now gone.

‘youre lucky, goblin, the same won’t go for this one’ he heard footsteps

‘like hell it wont’ he heard ron yell, followed by the expelliarmus and what must have been harry stupefying his father. draco rushed in, now dueling a more normal looking harry, until their attention caught on bellatrix, a knife to grangers throat. they dropped there wands, and he did as instructed, picking them up. lucius was summoning the dark lord when they heard a tittering on the ceiling, and the chandlier crashing. it all moved so fast and harry was now wrestling draco for his wand back. he tried, but harry had already pried it out of his cold and shaky hands.

‘STUPID ELF. THAT COULD HAVE KILLED ME’

‘dobby never meant to kill. dobby only meant to maim or seriously injure’ the house elf squeaked, and draco had never resisted a chuckle so hard.

‘HOW DARE YOU TAKE A WITCHES WAND. HOW DARE YOU DEFY YOUR MASTERS’

‘dobby has no master, dobby is a free elf, and he has come to save Harry Potter and his friends.’ and with that they apparated out, not without bella throwing a knife into the mix.

meanwhile, y/n was receiving letters of her own. not from draco either. letters from the schools she applied to. so far everything was good, except for princeton, but she didn’t have the highest expectations. she was accepted to the university of british columbia, seattle university, even ucla. she only had one letter left, and the large stuffed yellow envelope sat in her hands. she wasn’t sure about it- would she even be able to go to the univeristy of london? it was far, but draco was there, well closer to there atleast. accepted- it read. it was an option, and she still had weeks to think about it.

draco was very hesitant to write after the incident at the manor, the screams of Hermione, and the terrifying looking potter still vivid in his brain and nightmares. he often woke from sleep in a sweat, yet freezing cold. whispers of the war around his house also haunted his mind and soul. he’d walk to the window and look up at the the stars, they were under the same sky, at least. eventually he had to write her, it had been half a month and he couldn’t leave her hanging alone again.

y/n

love, im sorry for being hesitant, but there is going to be a war. i hate to leave you contact-less, but i need you to be safe now more than ever. i couldn’t live with myself if you got hurt. potter and his friends were brought here to the manor, it didn’t last long- they escaped within the hour and a half. with that doped elf, and a goblin too. if you don’t hear from me again, remember i love you. and always will.

draco

of all the letters y/n had recieved, from draco in all, that was probably the most displeasing. a war? like with tanks and bombs? tears were shedding down her face as she wrote the shortest response yet. knowing he most definitely didn’t have time to listen to her talk about schools, and how she got accepted to london, but her parents deemed it to far, ubc would have to do, she’d find her way to him eventually, if they were meant to be.

draco

stay safe, i love you.

yn.

draco now stood at snapes new office, dozens of corpses on the floor, pooled in blood. the dark lord speaking parsel tounge to nagini. no one needed to speak it to know that the man was infuriated about something potter had done.

the information he left was lacking, was he serious? what did wizarding wars even look like? her graduation date was set, June 6th, but it all seemed irrelevant, suddenly picking out a dress didn’t seem as fun as she thought, same with getting portraits taken. should she have said more?

next thing he knew the protection spell was countered and he apparated in, grabbing zabani and goyle by the collar. rushing them into a corridor and waited for the door of the room of requirement to completely vanish before approaching himself. they successfully found harry, opening a box carefully before finally drawing attention to themselves.

‘well well, what brings you here, potter’ draco said, softly, much to his surprise as he meant it to sound snarky and rude

‘i could ask you the same’

‘i believe you have something of mine, and id like it back’ was he becoming… kind?

‘whats wrong with the one you have?’ harry replied

‘it’s my mothers, powerful but different, doesn’t fully understand me, im sure you know the feeling’

‘why didn’t you tell her. bellatrix? you knew it was me, and you didn’t tell her’ he wasn’t exactly sure what to say, nor did he know. harry really didn’t have anything to do with his feelings for y/n, maybe he should have just turned in him when he had the chance, it would all be over if he had.

‘don’t be a wuss draco, just do it now’ goyle whispered in his ear, making him chill the same way bellatrix did on the astronomy tower, almost a year ago.

‘expelliarmus’ hermione half shouted, causing narcissas want to fly out of dracos hands and run the other way.

‘avada kedavra’ goyle missed and weaslebee started chasing after them, yelling something about his girlfriend. turning back around after goyle unsuccessfully casted the fiendfyre curse.

fear was making his body almost rattle as he desperately climbed bookcases in an attemp to outrun the flames. he watched goyle fall, into the orange. yes, he was a complete and utter twat, but wasn’t a half bad friend during dracos bullying peek. his foot slipped, now just his hands were keeping him up, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold on. in the distance he saw the three, zooming off to safety in the distance, leaving them their to die. not that he blamed them, after anything he did to them, he would have probably left himself there aswell.

but potter was flying towards him, arm out-stretched, grabbing onto his own and hoisting himself on the broom. had he already died? must not have, because the heat had finally caughten up. feeling as though he was going to pass out, he gripped tighter onto harry, maintaining his position on the broom. so much for staying safe. the second they made it out, they crashed onto the ground. he wanted to thank harry, but found himself running off instead.

explosions and hexes were being sent everywhere. people dying left and right. giants and trolls and spiders helping, he found himself in the slytherin common room. partially because he wanted to say goodbye, as he never wished to return to the building again once he had the choice. and partially as he was now aware of a large burn on his arm, and he felt a need to put off fighting until absolutely necessary. he entered through the portrait, for the last time. it felt like an aquarium, looking out upon the lake filled windows, merpeople and the giant squid often zooming by. he sat down upon the sofa, where he spent countless hours avoiding homework, plotting against potter and swimming in lust of his pure-blood status that now felt like a curse. he went up to his dorm, where he did very similar things. he wondered as to what he would be doing if he was a muggle right now. picking out a suit for graduation, buying a corsage for his date, but he wasn’t, so he best get going. running his hands along the furniture before leaving, not looking back.

the noise in the entrance courtyard had completely been diminished and draco found his way into the crowd of students pooling in. death eaters swarmed towards them at a painfully slow place, his mother and father near the head of the group. he noticed hagrid, towering above them, carrying what could only have been harrys corpse.

he watched carefully as they approached, trying to wedge himself inbetween and behind other students.

‘harry potter is dead’ voldemort paused ‘from now on, you put your faith in me’ silence fell over the hundreds of people who were know gathered. he swished his robes and turned backwards facing his followers

‘HARRY POTTER IS DEAD’ obnoxious and deafening cackles erupted

‘and now is the time to declare yourselves. come to our side, or die’ even more silence fell.

‘draco’ his father hissed before repeating ‘draco’

he felt eyes fall all over him, gazing expectantly. tears ran down his face.

don’t talk like that, saying you don’t have a future. you do draco, you deserve another chance and infinite amounts of them. was this what she meant? he’d been looking for another chance, maybe this was it.

he shook his head no, and noticed his father had fallen a shade of pale he didn’t know existed.

‘Draco, DRACO’ he yelled, clearly enranged, but before he could continue - a movement shifted in hagrids arms, and harry fell out. in a heartbeat draco threw his wand to the scar faced boy. he caught it, looking grateful as he could while casting some sort of spell at nagini. death eaters were disappearing into the air- including lucius, narcissa being dragged with him.

draco didn’t know what to do with himself, he was wandless and he couldn’t fight, unless he wanted to engage in an actual physical duel, which he didn’t. he found himself in the great hall, asking professor sprout if she needed help patching those up, she pulled him into a hug, unexpectantly. he never recalled such contact or connection with a professor. he spent the rest of the battle helping healing wounds with dittany, and caring for those left in the wake. it was a nice distraction from the fact he would most definitely be disowned, left a family-less orphan at 17.

y/n couldn’t blame him for not writing, he clearly stated that it might be the last time. but every night she cried until she couldn’t cry anymore, or until she fell asleep. how could she like him so much? they’d never even met. she didnt really need to see him to know him, his letters told him enough about him. and she could only hope- that if he managed through his six year without killing his headmaster, he could make it through the war.

he delayed going back to the manor for as long as possible, until he decided to apparate directly into his room. he considered packing his things up, but realized no one was home. he was thankful, he don’t think he would ever be able to fully confront his parents again. he fell asleep in his bed, and slept for 48 hours straight. he slept through very vivid dreams, ones of y/n being tortured the same way as Hermione, ones of the dark lord coming alive once again and killing his mother because of his choices. he couldn’t bring himself to sleep again purposefully, no matter how exhausted he was. the days weren’t much better, his mind raced at unbelievable paces. he saw the dead bodies laying around the great hall, the unrecoverable ones. maybe he should have just fallen into the fire, surely that would have been easier. he was slowly becoming thinner, and always needed multiple blankets to even stay at a somewhat warm temperature, his heart beat faster than normal. he often felt pains in his neck, and his eyes were almost always puffy from crying. he spent so much time in bed he almost didn’t hear his owl flutter onto his nightstand mid afternoon, a small package tied loosely around his neck.

he opened it to see a letter, muggle candies and a worn book. suddenly he felt more awake, and be shot up a little to fast then he should have, sitting on the edge of his bed.

draco.

i don’t know where you are, or if youre alive, if youre reading this now. i hope this doesn’t arrive at a bad time. but your 18 now, so happy birthday. if you are seeing this, i still love you. i think about you all the time. i hope you are okay, and safe. in case you don’t end up writing me back, i just thought I’d give you some random information to keep you company and away from your mind. i graduate tomorrow. i look at your picture everyday. I remember what you once told me about following my dreams, so instead of medicine, im going to study literature and business next year. im staying in kelowna aswell for now, hoping maybe you’ll be able to visit someday. im sure you’d like it. my favourite colour is still green. i don’t know what else to say.

always here to listen if you’d like to talk. yn.

was it actually his birthday? had it already been a month since the war? it felt like a year but the visions played over and over like it was yesterday. it took him awhile before it clicked. the war was over, Voldemort was dead and there was no one to stop him from seeing her. he completely disregarded the lightheaded feeling he got when he stood up to fast- and rushed to his wardrobe. it took him a bit longer than he thought to pack up all his clothes, including the thousands of letters he kept hidden in a large drawer. the trunk was a bit heavier than he may have thought, and he ended up needing to take a car, in fear that he may not be able to apparate successfully to the airport without injuring himself. he quickly found out that muggle travelling was harder than he thought, and security and customs were also apparently a thing that all people needed to get through.

he wrapped himself in his cloak and didn’t get a drop of sleep the whole plane ride. it was nighttime when they flew over montreal, and then toronto. the sun rose as they crossed through winnipeg, regina, and calgary. he didn’t know this himself ofcourse, but he aggressively hit the map on the screen in front of him, desperate to know where he was. he only got an hour of half decent sleep before he felt rattling of the plane landing, and he gripped tightly onto the arm rests. he struggled for half an hour before he even got sight of his luggage on the moving thing that went round and round. compared to London, kelownas airport was very small and easy to navigate. the air outside was hot, making draco feel even more self concious about his clothing choices.

y/n put her hair back into a twist with a clip taking a suprising amount of effort to make sure it looked okay. her makeup was natural looking, nothing crazy but she looked gorgeous none the less. she slipped into her black romper, some canadians didn’t wear their fancy dresses to convocation, only something simple to go with the cap and gown. she arrived at the ceremony, seeing everyone, with excited smiles and laughs, conversing amongst themselves. and every memory came rushing back. they sat in rows on a stage, listening to the heartfelt and extremely cheesy speech the staff made every single year. she’d never noticed how many kids were in her age group until they were being called up one by one.

‘alex can’

‘ruth lee’

and the list went on and on until finally

‘y/n l/n’ the moment had come, and she shook everyone’s hand, receiving her diploma and flipping her caps tassel to the left. ‘y/n is staying around next year, and attending the university of british columbia okanogan, good luck l/n’ her principal said and claps continued like they had and the rest of the list finished sooner, or seemed to go by faster, she wasn’t sure.

draco had never had to find a taxi by himself, but once he did he gave the driver the only place he knew, the address he saw on the top corner of her first response almost two years ago.

y/n pulled away from the school grounds, watching them disappear in her rear view mirror. it was hot with a breeze, but she smiled the whole way home. she’d done it, made it through every assignment and class, dealt with attention hungry bitches, and crappy teachers. the next door was truly opening. pulling up to her house, and closing her car door as she hopped out, she watched her feet carry her up to the house. turning the corner, she saw him, sitting there on her steps, a present wrapped horribly in his hands, looking very out of place in his black cloak. she stopped in her own steps and he hesitantly stood up, before she launched herself into his arms breathing in his cologne, finally together after all this time.

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haifengg · 4 years ago

Text

Lead On - Seungsik

Summary: The finale of PDX101 was on and you were following the voting on your laptop at your place. You knew at some point that night you would get a call and you’d have to be ready to run wherever he needed you.

Disclaimer: I do know very little to nothing about what went on behind the scenes at plan A or within/among Victon. I don’t know what talks they had or anything. This is purely fictional.

Genre: Fluff! Established Relationship! Slight Angst!

Authors Note: Why is it always Y/N who needs comfort? I felt like we need more content the other way around.

It’s the night of truth

The finale of ProduceX101 was broadcasted live and thousands of people were watching

Most of them watching the elimination excitedly

There was only a small fraction following the voting with mixed feelings

Among them were you, sitting in your apartment at the kitchen island

The entire process had been going on for a while now and since the entire time you sat on your chair, already wearing a jacket and sneakers

The car keys were resting within reach so you could grab them and run if you got the call

There was no way your phone wouldn’t ring tonight

There was no way not a single one of the members would call you to at least give you a status update

Because there was no way Han Seungwoo wouldn’t be part of the new group

You suspected they already knew what was coming

If you spend so much time together, do many years practicing and living together some things you just sense

Of course it was CJ ENM and literally no one knew what was going on behind closed doors but how could people not love Seungwoo?

So you were certain things would go down

Your boyfriend had been the leader since Seungwoo entered the competition

That was decided beforehand obviously and by that time all of you could tell that Seungsik was already worried about it

He tried to hide it but the guys knew him too well and they eventually decided to tell you

They understood why he was trying to keep his worries from them and they wanted to respect his choice but also wanted to give him the opportunity to let down his guard when he was with you

So one night shortly after the announcement of Seungwoo’s participation you sat down and confronted him about it

„Don‘t you think it’s possible he’ll get eliminated in the process and everything will go back to normal? He is much older than most of the other trainees.“

„Don’t be ridiculous. He’s so talented and and handsome and he has been pretty much carrying Victon during the first years. Of course will he make it. He’ll pass flying colors.”

You shook your head at that remark

„Okay, now you’re being ridiculous and please don’t paint it all black. I think it’s possible he’s considered too old to debut again and he did not carry you! Every single one of you contributed to the group and worked very hard to be were you are now. Never forget that!“

Before he could say anything else you just got up from your chair and pulled him very close into your chest

Which was just another way of shutting him up

You didn’t want to hear any more of this but you knew he was right somewhere

The votes were out

Seungwoo made it into Group third Place

The camera was going back and forth between the members faces and the ones who knew him could see his heart break

Maybe he was happy to have made it

Happy for the other kids on the show who finally would get to debut

But one could tell that it meant he wouldn’t go back to work with his friends for a really long time

And no one would be happy about that

You sighed and closed your laptop only being able to imagine what was going down at victon‘s dorm

You were sure no one present really knew what to feel

For a while you just sat in your dark kitchen, not bothering to turn any lights on or check your constantly

You just waited patiently

In your Head you played through every scenario imaginable

Utter chaos

Denial

Lots of tears

Whatever it was they would confront you with and expect you to fix - you would be prepared mentally

It took them about two hours for Byungchan to call you

Before he could say anything you asked:

„How are things?“

He hesitated. „Well ... let me be straight with you: Mixed feelings really. A few of the managers called to check on us but we either ignored them or apologized and hung up on them. Can you come over?“

„Does he want me to come over or is this you telling me to come because he won’t admit it.“

You could hear him shake his head

„No, he actually asked me to give you a call. Idk why he didn’t do it himself. That’s just how he is sometimes, you know that.“

„I know. I’m on my way. 15 minutes if there is traffic. There are people in front of your dorm right?“

„Yeah. But I’ll make sure you get into the Deep-Level garage. Don’t worry, security knows your license plate by now.“

Byungchan was right

There were a few people by their house, mostly peaceful Alice holding and putting up a few signs with encouraging messages on them, playing some of the old songs and chatting

Just making sure to show them they’re still supported

You went behind the back of the building, showed the security guard you ID and signed in on the usual list

You parked your car, walked to the elevator and went up to the floor their apartment was at

Heochan opened the door, his hair held up by a small pink clip he looked like any other day you have spend here

Despite the fact you could see he had been crying at least a little

„He’s in our room. We didn’t get in there once he closed the door so I don’t know what’s going on.“

You knocked on the door, feeling the guys look observing you from the other end of the hallway

„Seungsik, Open up. It’s me.“

The door opened up a crack and you entered the room closing the door behind you

You found your boyfriend in a very confused state

Once the door closed he dropped back on his bed, sitting up and staring at you

„What am I supposed to do now?“

„What do you mean?“ you dropped your keys on the desk and walked up and crouched in front of him so you could look up to him, taking his hands in yours

„How the hell am I supposed to lead them on? When Seungwoo is gone for 5 years?“

„2,5 years.“ You corrected him calmly in an attempt to divide his terror

„He is Victons‘s leader. Not me! He did it since day one and he knew what he was doing! Everyone counted on him! He is the most reliable person. Not me. I am not the one who is supposed to guide them through whatever shit show is coming up in the future! I can not be there for them the way he would be and I can’t mediate between our company and the guys as professionally as he-„

„You are forgetting something extremely important here.“ You interrupted him and looked him straight into the eyes

He had been crying while he was in here and that was why he made Byungchan call you: He didn’t want them to see

By now he was tearing up again

„You are forgetting that Seungwoo recommended you specifically for the job and that every one agreed. Everyone in this apartment thinks you are fully capable of it and we think you will do it well! They would have never even asked you to do it if they wouldn’t trust you with their careers and with the future of this group.“

Seungsik remained silent two seconds and his voice was shaking when he spoke again: „Well, guess what: I don’t think I can.“

Tears started to roll down his puffy cheeks and as you got up to hug him anyways his arms were already reaching out for your waist pulling you in

„But we are certain you will. It is okay to doubt yourself but be aware that it’s not a one man job. You guys are in this together, the others know how heavily this must way on your shoulders and you can always ask Seungwoo for help if you should need any.“

Seungsik was throbbing in your arms and all you could do was holding him tight. Regardless of the fact he was balling his eyes out your were smiling softly and patting his head gently

„You are not alone with this. Seungwoo will be back eventually. We all trust you with this and we will all support you. You’re a very competent and hardworking man, you always give your best and you know it’s okay to rely on other people. We will stand behind you.“

„I love you.“

„I love you too.“

„And I am happy for Seungwoo. In a weird way.“ His muffled voice came out of his hood, your jacket and a lot of sleeves

„Of course. He did great.“

„It’s selfish ... but I really wanted him to not make it.“

„I know.“ You sighed deeply looking out of the window. „I know.“

#sometimes men need hugs #just comfort them okay #again it’s just fiction #why is always y/n that needs comfort #victon fluff #victon reactions #victon imagines #Victon Seungsik #Victon Seungwoo #Hanse #subin #byungchan #heochan #Seungwoo #Seungsik #sejun #Victon imagine #Victon scenario

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yutaya · 4 years ago

Text

Iron Fist Week Day 7: minor character/missing scene

Albert is a man. A man... with a van.

He's proud of his van. Sure it was a bitch and a half to get certified and sometimes trying to drive three freaking blocks in this city when he's having a bad enough day can threaten to put his blood pressure through the roof, but he's ground out an honest living for himself with it. That's no mean feat, in this neighborhood.

Plus, Al likes his job. It involves a lot of visiting every nook and cranny of the area, meeting loads of people at varying levels of talkative - it's a job that requires someone personable, and Al doesn't think it's too immodest to say that he fits the bill.

Staring down a fully loaded armoire, though, Al can admit to himself that there are times he's less fond of this job than others.

By the time he's got the thing down on the sidewalk, doors and drawers bound shut and with an initial layer of wrapping to protect it from pedestrian traffic while he sets up the loader, Al has mentally added two upticks to his pain-in-the-ass fee.

"Woah, can I help you with that?"

Al pauses in his transferring long enough to take a look at who's spoken. It's a white guy, 20s, a little scruffy but looks comfortable, and, most importantly, seems genuine.

Al smiles at him. "I appreciate the offer, but these need to be moved in a specific way to prevent scuffing."

"Oh." Al goes back to loading the armoire. "...Would you show me?" Al pauses again. Looks back at the guy. "I'm Danny, by the way," he adds, and smiles beatifically.

Al blinks up at the sky. Had the sun shone more brightly for a second, there? He turns back to wrapping the furniture with blankets and bungee cords. "You need to move a lot of furniture, Danny?" he asks while he works. Engaging in friendly conversation with strangers is second nature to him, at this point.

Danny, who has the courtesy to remain standing out on the street behind the van as they talk, bounces a little as he replies. "Yes, actually! My girlfriend and I have been redoing her apartment."

"Wow, big project. Hey, if you guys need stuff moved around, I've got you covered. Back and forth from the storage unit, delivering your new stuff from the store, bringing your old stuff wherever it's going... My rates are fair and, as you can see, I'd actually take care of your things." He pats the carefully cushioned furniture from his current job in indication.

Danny laughs a little, looking at it. "At least that isn't a piano, right?"

"Hey man, pianos have wheels. I can walk them right up the ramp."

Danny eyes the ramp Al uses with the handtrucks. "Isn't it too skinny?"

Al laughs again. "What kind of piano are you picturing, a grand?" As if anyone who owned one of those would be hiring Al to move it. As if anyone who owned one of those would be living in this area at all.

Danny shrugs, unbothered. "I haven't seen one since I was a kid. Maybe it seemed bigger back then." A beat passes, and then Danny continues talking, the oversharing sort of babble symptomatic of the sleep-deprived. "Anyway, we'll definitely call you for help with our stuff. And you can show me all the right ways to handle everything! I'm probably going to be doing a lot of rearranging furniture and stuff since Colleen is out at Bayard all the time now; she keeps talking about helping the community during the daytime - Colleen's my girlfriend, she's the best - and, I mean, she's right, of course, plus, we just got back to the city and I am not used to not having to do something -" he cuts himself off, lighting up. "Hey, could I get a job with you?"

Al startles. He can usually recognize when someone's coming at that angle. Granted, they usually don't seem to stumble into it by mistake.

"The shop down the street is hiring," he offers. "On the corner."

"Thanks! I'd like to work for this business, though."

Al pauses. Revaluates "Danny". There are only so many reasons someone would be looking for a moving job specifically, and in this neighborhood, the most likely scenario is one that Al has been very carefully steering clear of for 30 years.

"I appreciate the interest," he repeats cautiously, "but we're a small business. I'm afraid we don't really have the means to hire right now." It's a bit of a risk, revealing a vulnerability like that. Luckily, Albert is overstating it a bit; it won't be that easy for any of the triads to put financial pressure on him, and, well. He's stubborn. He swore a long time ago that he wouldn't go there.

"Oh, that's not a problem!" Danny says brightly. "You wouldn't need to pay me. I'm more looking for the experience, you know? I've never had a normal job, and Colleen thinks it'll be good for us to start over."

The alarm bell clanging in Al's head rises to a shriek, then falters. If this is a ploy, it is astoundingly poorly executed. If this guy is in with any sort of organized crime, he can't be more than a fledgling recruit. Al feels a moral obligation to try and steer him better, even if his self preservation instincts disagree.

"Look," Al says, watching Danny's face carefully. "I'm running an honest business, here. I'm not interested in having our name attached to anything. And, if I could offer you a word of advice?" Danny, who mostly just looks confused, nods. "Don't go saying that stuff about working for free. Depending who hears it, that's a good way to end up either severely taken advantage of, or in a coffin. Anyone you might be trying that hard to get a resource for won't be happy about you overplaying your hand."

Danny still looks confused. Al mimes swinging a hatchet. Danny's eyes go wide with clarity.

"I'm not with the triads," he says disconcertingly earnestly. "I'm the Iron Fist. I'm sworn to defend the city from people like them."

...Ok.

Well, at least this is an interesting conversation.

"If you're not with the triads, why do you want this job?"

"I guess I'm looking for something new. For fifteen years, I had one purpose. Now, it's done. Now, I need to build a new life, and..." His voice dips in a certain way with the next words, a way that makes Al's stomach sink with the familiarity of it. "...keep a promise to a friend."

Al looks at Danny, a pit in his stomach and memories in his heart. Resignation settles underneath his skin.

"You have a résumé?" he asks. At least Danny doesn't seem inclined to just throw things around, like some other shipping companies that Al could name. Royal Al Moving provides quality for its clients, thank you very much.

"I don't think so. What is that, equipment? I could buy some."

Al stares at him. He'd been expecting either an agreement to email or bring by a copy later, or a conversation along the lines of 'do I really need one?' followed by a verbal listing off of previous work or even just ability.

"Do you have any previous experience?" Al tries again. "Had any jobs before?"

"Yeah, I have," Danny says, and doesn't elaborate.

White people.

"What about ID?" Al asks, despite knowing full well he'll probably pretend not to notice if anything seems off about it.

Danny laughs a bit, seemingly unphased by his own complete lack of knowledge regarding ordinary job application/interview etiquette whatsoever. "Oh, I definitely have that. Had to fight really hard for it, too. It was almost all gone, but once everything got sorted out, we made, like, 10 new copies of everything." Danny pats around at his pockets, not appearing to notice Al's incredulous expression. "I don't have any of those with me right now, but... Ah ha!" He pulls something out triumphantly. "Business cards! I'm pretty sure my brother thought I was just going to destroy them, but my friend Jeri said it's important to always have one. It might have gone through the laundry, though, sorry."

Assuming this day can't get any weirder, like a fool, Al takes the card.

Even worn and slightly crumpled, the obnoxiously expensive quality of the original card is still clear. There's embossing and gold foil, for god's sake. The Rand Enterprises logo glints up at him almost mockingly even as the three dimensional lines of the border rise and fall under his thumb. Either seems unnecessary and frankly tone deaf for a Humanitarian Aid company, let alone both. Then again, maybe they reserve this version of the card for the executive level, those who hobnob among the elite, who need to make a certain type of impression on the too rich in order to convince them to donate well.

Because that's another thing this card reads, right there in plain English: a 9pt bold 'Daniel Rand', and under that, 'CEO'.

'What,' a little voice in Al's head wails semi-hysterically, 'the fuck?'

"Is this a joke?" Al asks out loud, vaguely surprised by how calm he sounds given the way the voice inside his head might be having a meltdown. "Am I on Candid Camera?"

But, no, wasn't he just thinking that this card is way too expensive - and thus definitely too expensive to be a prop?

"Hey, I know that one!" Danny Rand says cheerfully. "Joy and I used to watch it together!"

'Joy,' the voice in Al's head supplies. 'Joy Meachum.

'Well, at least this explains why he said he doesn't need money.

'Wait, why is he looking for a job in the first place? Is he not CEO? Did they kick him out or something? Did they disown him for wearing a hoodie with holes in it? Is that what he meant earlier when he said the thing he was doing before is over now?'

Al has never felt more rueful that he doesn't pay much attention to celebrity news.

"So," Al tries to find a way to word this that isn't 'have you been cut off or what?' "Why is Danny Rand looking for a job here?"

By "here", Al means a lot of things. This type of neighborhood, in general. Chinatown, out of all of them. At a low-wage position in a manual labor business with very little room for growth, if they're really getting into it.

"I like your name," Danny replies. It's far from the kind of answer that Al was expecting, but he finds himself unperturbed. Maybe he's hit a point where nothing is surprising anymore. "It reminds me of a friend. He was more of a Big Al than a Royal one, but I saw your logo and it seemed right."

(Al still pays Danny, because he refuses to be a shady business and because if he's finally getting around to setting up an employee system, he's needs to make it one that will work for anyone he might hire in the future, too. They won't all be Danny Rand. Danny keeps finding ways to immediately give it back, because he's literally a billionaire.)

#here it is like an entire week late #it took so long to write and i still kind of hate it but whatever #ironfistweek #iron fist #danny rand #fanfic #?#my stuff #the immortal iron fist #the internet is for fanfiction #colleen and misty's days still to come #they're just gonna be gifsets tho so~

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nullvoid868 · 4 years ago

Text

Dusty wings and sleep deprivation (G/t fluff)

This is something I wrote to try to get a feel for some new OC’s, and original content in general. its just a fluffy G/t story, with a moth based species of borrower. enjoy!

Chion’s wings twitched uselessly, unable to lift his tiny body away from the burning electric flame, the metal underneath him searing with heat. His whole body felt like it was burning into dust. The bulb began to flicker, sending out a resounding noise as it did. The entire lamp seemed to ring over and over again rhythmically.

DING-DING-DING-DING-DING

He was thrust from his nightmare by the call of the pocket watch hung on his wall. Chion thrust his sheets out of his cocoon and awkwardly flopped out, slamming his palm onto the switch to silence the alarm. Rubbing his eyes and grabbing his borrowing poncho, Chion cringed a little as he recalled that tonight he needed to collect supplies.

The LED’s in the ceiling, which Chion had hooked up to an inverted light sensor outside, had activated, draping a calm blue light over the intricate quilts and blankets that decorated his home. He took down his borrowing bag from the hook attached to the kitchen wall and fastened it to the huge button on the back of his poncho. After quickly scarfing down a cup of water he climbed down the ladder leading to the rest of the house, and once he reached the bottom, he summoned his wings and took flight.

Chion glided through the air in the humans living room, occasionally landing on a wall to rest. The eye patterns on his wings darted their pupils from side to side, just as he did his, checking to make sure there were no signs of the human. The moonlight glinted off his unkempt snow white hair as he winged his way into the kitchen. Chion landed on the edge of the pantry, a massive cereal box looming above him. The only obstacle between him and his quarry was one piece of flimsy cardboard. From his pocket he produced a small multool, whipped out the knife, and began cutting through the side of the box. After a few minutes of sawing a square shaped hole in the cardboard, he had finally reached his goal - 2 or 3 pieces of cereal were enough plant fiber to feed him for a week. Chion grabbed onto a piece and slowly pulled it out from the tightly packed box, satisfied with his mission.

It was then that chion realized his mistake.

Cereal began to pour out from the hole Chion had made in the box, the wave of oats and grains pushing him off the side of the pantry. He managed to open his wings at the last moment, saving himself from a nasty fall, but strained them in the process. He awkwardly flopped onto the growing heap of cereal, more and more falling on top of him with each passing second, clinking lightly on the kitchen's tile floor. By the time Chion summoned the energy to move he was buried under a pile of cheerios™, Kellogs cornflakes™, and other standard breakfast fare. The weight held him in place, unable to move.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A strange noise coming from the kitchen broke Risa’s daze after hours of staring into the glow of his PC. It took half a minute for him to register it, and another to notice that it was now pitch dark outside his bedroom window. He was up way too late for his own good, but despite his tired state he knew he wouldn't be able to get any sleep until he found out what the noise was. Rubbing his eyes, he awkwardly stumbled out of his bedroom and towards the kitchen. Flicking on the light, he could plainly see the source of the issue. Cereal poured out onto the floor from a hole in the box, forming a pile on the tile floor. Risa picked up the box and set it on it’s side on the counter to stop the flow of cereal, and sighed as he grabbed a broom and dustpan and got to work. After a few sweeps of the broom he could see something fluffy and white poking out of the pile. Getting down on his knees, Risa scooped it into his hands to get a better look and was flabbergasted at what he saw. A small, humanoid creature with moth’s wings laid in his palm, wearing a tiny brown poncho. Its neck had a fluffy ‘collar’ around it and two antenne poked out of its head. Its wings, which a moment ago were paper white, were now bright red, and emitting a strange pulsing glow. The miniscule figure was crouched in a fetal position and shaking. Risa stared for a moment before coming to his senses.

‘W...what are you? Can you speak?’

The tiny being shivered, saying nothing for a moment, and then squeaked out a shaky ‘y...yes’

‘Please let me go, I'll leave, I promise. Please don't kill me.’

‘Wha..what? I'm not mad at you, I'm just confused. I've never seen anything like you before...’

Risa tried to carefully poke Chion to turn them over so he could see their face, but Chion flinched and jumped a bit, their dusty wings weakly flapping, trying to lift off before flopping back onto Risas palm. Their antenne twitched a bit before they froze once again, this time staring at Risa’s comparatively massive face, their tiny grey eyes overflowing with fear. Risa’s heart sunk with guilt, realizing that their thoughtless action had only scared the tiny being more.

‘Sorry.. I shouldn't have done that.’

‘......’

Risa’s words were met with only the same fearful eyes staring up into theirs, as if anticipating death at any moment.

‘I'm not going to harm you, I'm so sorry I scared you. My name is Risa, what is yours?'

‘I…’

‘...Chion’

‘Chion.. That's a pretty name. Well Chion, i'm going to put you down on the counter now, again i'm sorry I frightened you’

Chion’s wings ceased their pulsing glow, and their blood red became a little more grey. The small being shivered a bit less, yet they still peered into Risa’s eyes fearfully. Risa carefully moved her hand over to the counter, and tilted it just a bit so chion would gently slide off of it. The miniscule being fumbled a bit as they sat down on the counter, now looking at Risa with more confusion than fear.

‘You.. you're going to let me go?’

‘I'm not going to capture you or force you to stay here, if that's what you mean’

‘I..Im going to go then’

Risa felt a bit disappointed to see Chion leave so soon, she really wanted to get to know them better. But forcing them to stay and chat would certainly not make them trust her more. She watched as they fluttered off the counter and into the air, heading towards the door to the living room.

But as soon as Chion was a few inches from the kitchen counter a sharp pain shot through their body, making them lose the balance needed to fly. They had been so focused on their fear of the human that they had forgotten about spraining their wings. Chion began to plummet towards the floor below, closing their eyes tight in anticipation of the impact. They had survived being found and now they were going to die from a simple fall.

But Chion did not collide with the cold, hard tile. Instead Risa’s hands shot out to catch them, and they plopped face-first onto the warm, fleshy surface. Chion simply laid there for a minute, face pressed into Risa’s hand, tears spilling softly from their eyes.

‘Oh my god are you ok? That was close!’

‘Y..yeah’

‘...’

’Thank you. For catching me’

‘You're very welcome. I guess you should probably avoid flying for a little bit.’

‘Yeah... trying to fly again is dangerous. But I need to fly to get back home!’

‘I might be able to carry you there!’

‘Ehh…’

As much as Chion wanted to get back to their nest and lay down in their cocoon, every instinct they had shouted at them to not let the human know the location of their home. They winced a bit and shook their head.

‘Id.. rather keep the location of my burrow a secret, sorry’

‘Oh.. well i understand. You can stay with me for the night if you want, and hopefully you should be feeling good enough to fly in the morning.’

Though Chion was still frightened a bit by Risa, it was either stay with her or try to find some hole in the wall they could reach and stay in until their wings healed.

‘That.. that would be nice, yeah.’

‘Great! Ill get the supplies to try and set up a bed for you.’

‘Uh, before you do, could I get some food and water?’

‘Yes, of course!’

Risa once again sat Chion down on the countertop while she rifled through a drawer, eventually picking out a 1/8th tablespoon measuring cup. She brought it to the faucet and turned the knob ever so slightly, so only a few drops of water flowed from it. She sat the now full measuring cup down next to chion, and fished through the cereal box for a few pieces of cereal. She sat them down next to Chion as well, who was already happily slurping down the water.

‘Thank you!’

‘You're welcome!’

Risa watched as Chion happily nibbled on one of the pieces of cereal, occasionally taking another sip of water. After a while they lifted up the measuring cup to get the one last drop of water in the bottom, only for it to slide right into their face as one big drop, its surface tension breaking on impact and soaking Chion’s now rather surprised face. Risa giggled a little bit before tearing off a piece of paper towel from the nearby roll and handing it to Chion to dry off with. Chion timidly took it from Risa’s outstretched fingers and patted their face down with it before standing up.

‘Alright, I'm pretty tired. I guess take me to wherever you want me to sleep for the night’

‘Ok!’

‘Uh.. I think i'll have to carry you, if that's alright’

Risa held her palm to the edge of the counter, waiting for Chion to climb on. Chion stared at it for a while, not sure what to do. They remembered the stories they were told by the elder moths as a child before being sent out on their own. Cold nights in some abandoned wreck of a house, huddled together with other young moths, an elder reading stories of humans thoughtlessly killing borrowers who got too risky in their borrowings. Now with Risa waiting for them to step forward onto her hand, they had no idea what to think. This human, who was supposed to crush them like a bug, had now saved them twice and helped them purely out of the kindness of her heart. The logical part of their brain told them that those old stories were probably just fabricated, or worst case scenarios. Fear-Mongering meant to ensure that they stay hidden. Humans might not be so violent after all. But another part of their mind still screamed those old stories in Chion’s ear.

They shut their eyes tight, and stepped forward.

Risa watched intently as Chion stepped onto her outstretched palm, trying to keep it as still as possible. Chion carefully took another step and planted their second foot onto Risa’s palm before sitting down, still shaking a bit and eyes still clasped shut. Risa carefully moved her hand from the side of the counter to the side of her chest, cupping the tiny figure close to her. Chion took a deep breath and stopped shaking. The small moth opened their eyes, and seeing that they were safe, laid down on the palm and sighed. They were exhausted, physically and emotionally. They could faintly hear Risa’s heartbeat, and Risa’s hand was warm and soft. Chion grabbed onto Risas shirt, cuddling with the warm fabric. By the time Risa reached his bedroom he found Chion fast asleep in his palm.

Risa used his other hand to pick up a spare blanket and spread it over part of the nearby bed stand, and gently laid Chion on top of it. The tiny moth stirred a bit, but quickly drifted back into sleep. Risa picked up another, lighter blanket and laid it over chion, carefully tucking them in.

‘Sleep well, little one’

#G/t #sfw g/t #borrowers #fluff #g/t fluff

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jamaiskookie · 4 years ago

Text

bangtan headcanon: OT7 IN HIGH SCHOOL 📓✂️

☞ genre; fluff, crack

☞ warnings; excessively stupid

masterlist u wanna talk to highschool!bangtan?

《KIM SEOKJIN》

class clown

always manages to sneak kimbap in class, and stuffs his face despite being in the front row.

he’s alarmingly good at sneaking food into places.

cafeteria ladies love jin so much.

and every christmas he brings in his perfected sugar cookies and never shares them.

(he’s in the cooking club)

((he’s the only one in the cooking club))

will interrupt the teacher to make a bad joke.

“yes so helium is the fo- oh yes seokjin?“

“i was reading an excellent book about helium, i couldn’t put it down!! ahHAHAHHYUKHYUKAHHAHAHHA“

nobody’s?? really sure?? if he’s dating namjoon or not?? it’s the schools biggest mystery, there’s currently a betting pool going on worth about $500

likes to annoy namjoon and yoongi about holding bake sales.

is surprisingly good at planning parties?? but never hosts them?? hoseok always gets him to plan his parties and he even planned prom!!

he’s particularly proud with the theme he came up with.

‘zombie meets elegance‘

it was actually pretty nicely pulled off (much to the shock of the entire student body)

《MIN YOONGI》

student council president

takes his job very!! seriously!!

fights with the principal on funding daily.

doesn’t come to school without coffee and resting bitch face.

even the teachers are afraid of this short little emo boy.

is the only one who actually wears the school uniform properly with the little tie and jacket because that’s how you show school spirit.

definitely that closeted gay in high school who thinks nobody knows about his homosexuality when in fact, everyone knows.

(nobody has the guts to bring it up to him though)

“hyung why are you staring at jimin’s as-“

“-NO WHY GET BACK TO WORK”

actually enjoys doing morning announcements.

“make sure to check out jin’s dumb bake sale i think he’s selling brownies for some charitable reason anYWAYS time for min’s advice column!!“

min’s advice column is yoongi’s free therapy. namjoon suggested adding an advice column to the school paper so now yoongi just judges his classmates’s decisions gives subpar advice.

“i personally think you have no chance with this girl, but you’re clearly hell bent on asking her out. it’s a dumb choice. good luck.“

《JUNG HOSEOK》

fuckboy

throws obnoxious parties at his parent’s huge ass mansion.

somehow?? is?? the nicest? playboy??? evER??

will respect your girl’s boundaries but also would 300% hit on her when you’re not looking.

aftercare king wILL cuddle with you and help you clean up or whatever until jimin eventually comes in screaming.

his school id says “hobi 💦👅” ... noone knows how he managed to do it (taehyung thinks he seduced the secretary)

surprisingly good at romance even though he deTests dating

“it’s a waste of time, money, and ass.“ “- what?”

gives everyone dating advice whether they want it or nOt- he lives his *shhh very secret* romantic fantasies through his best friends.

once helped taehyung ask out his girlfriend... they’re still going strong!!

defo has daddy issues that he never talks about,, maybe if a girl finds it sexc™️ in that kind of messed-up-bad-boy-she-could-fix vibe he’ll bring it up

kinda failing science lmao he probably needs a tutor.. but will never admit he needs a tutor for sake of his pride.

most definitely has had sex in the janitor’s closet a couple times, up until yoongi caught him once, reported him to the school board and got him suspended... for a month.

(yoongi has no regrets, that was the best month of his life.)

《KIM NAMJOON》

student vice president

honestly would probably be the council president and is the most qualified for it but can’t be bothered.

plus he hates public speaking and the president has to speak at assemblies.

genuinely enjoys learning!! bUT HATES GROUP PROJECTS

because every single fucking time taehyung and jimin pester him about teaming up and he ends up doing like 75% of the work.

not because anyone forces him to or anything.

it’s because jimin and tae are such dumbasses every time they finish their work namjoon has a sudden uRGE TO REDO ALL OF IT BC THEY GOT IT WRONG.

tries to take all AP subjects.

gives up and drops half of them by the second semester.

great student but also will “no yoongi i don’t want to fucking play basketball i've been awake for thirty hours trying to finish this goddamn essay that’s due tomorrow. wHAT DO YOU MEAN WHY DIDN’T I DO IT EARLIER I WAS BUSY TAKING CARE OF MY BONSAI TREES.“

started the school paper!! it’s called “persona post”

writes about actual relevant things like political events and global problems, but everyone else just writes about school gossip *sigh*

although that one column examining hobi’s sex and dating life was a pretty fun piece of writing to read through.

he sits in the back of the classroom and never raises his hand even though he knows the answer like 95% of the time.

definitely has a crush on seokjin

《PARK JIMIN》

the one everyone has a crush on

and when i say everyone i mean everyone, even hoseok has had a crisis over park jimin.

(jungkook is definitely president of his fan club) ((in case it wasn’t clear, he’s dating jungkook))

school’s golden boy, basically gets away with everything with a bat of an eye... and the most infuriating thing is he doesn’t even realise it.

“omg jimin!! you’re so cute!! this shirt looks sO good on you, can i touCH?” “omg thank you i didn’t think it fit well because it’s my boyfriends but that’s so sweet!!” “boy... hm?”

mom friend: sweetest bitch alive and is always worrying about his friends but everyone knows he’s secretly really fucking kinky.

(again, jungkook has no comment)

the kind of person who celebrates christmas in june.

literally- he starts putting decorations in his locker and around the school mid june. by november, he’s wearing reindeer ears to school.

*lowkey kind of a nerd* genuinely enjoys studying with namjoon.

“well, studying with anybody else is just too stressful!! plus, namjoon’s so chill. he doesn’t look like it but he actually is super sweet and nice!!!“

“... please take those reindeer ears off, it’s embarrassing.“

half of the school would probably cut off an arm to sleep with him. seriously, he gets offers like everYDAY it’s kinda getting tiRING

is considering starting a youtube channel where he just takes videos of all the dogs and babies he meets throughout the day.

“idk i think vlogging would be fun“

《KIM TAEHYUNG》

art hoe

nEVER FUCKING STUDIES OR PAYS ATTENTION BUT GETS DECENT GRADES.

the definition of bisexual mess, WILL trip when he sees hot people.

exclusively wears wired gold glasses and soft neutral sweaters to school. if it’s a good day he’ll wear a beanie. on special occasions he’ll maybe throw in some fUN loafers.

dyes his hair to match ~the vibes~ of that season. the most recent wild hair colour is cool toned teal.

jungkook said he looks like leprechaun shit, but tae really likes it.

tried to go vegan countless times, failed each and every one when he passed by a mc donalds.

carries his sketchbook wherever he goes. he has that thing around 24/7, 100% would not be surprised if he slept with it under his pillow.

really quiet until he has a point to make;; like that time where he launched into a three hour screaming lecture on how phineas and ferb is an animated masterpiece.

drinks tea purely for the aesthetic of it.

goes to hipster coffee shops to pretend to study... ends up watching barbie movies and critiquing them on the writing blog that he thinks nobody knows about.

watches anime in class (he recently rewatched all of ATLA for the third time,, failed his econ class but worth it!!1!!1)

《JEON JUNGKOOK》

preppy jock

once again, everyone is attracted to him, but he’s so whipped for jimin everyone’s crush fades away once they talk to him because-

“oh it’s so cool that you have a dog!! you know, i think jimin kind of looks like a pomeranian sometimes it’s sO CUTE- hm? oh jimin’s my boyfriend.“

... it’s disgustingly adorable.

plays almost every sport and is somehow always the team captain. not out of obligation or with leadership skills or anything, everyone else just votes for him.

mess with his friends and he’ll put a stink bomb in your locker.

his nickname is “golden baby” because he’s good at everything, teachers love him so much.

grades? sTELLAR. sports? he’s done them ALL. creativity? pAINTED THE SCHOOL MURAL. service? volunteers at a pet shelter whenever he can (the bunnies love him for some reason)

everyone either is

a) in love w him, wants to fuck

b) jealous of him but is also secretly gay for him

pretends to not know how talented and cool he is and plays it off super cool

proceeds to fail, the only thing he’s bad at is humble bragging.

“wow omg lol i got a 100 on my bio test and yesterday i got a hole in one in golf, my first time playing it but it’s chill i guess hahhah day in my life amirite.“

**this headcanon is the start of the bangtan school series, stay tuned**

wanna be tagged in school series or my writing? here or send me an ask

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fallen-gravity · 5 years ago

Text

Forever Together

Five years ago, he’d received a “not now”, and for days after the self-hating part of his brain had interpreted it as “no, never”.

It was a few weeks after his “corruption fiasco”, as he referred to it, that he shot up in bed in the middle of the night, finally processing the weight behind Connie's choice of phrasing. At the time of the proposal he’d been heartbroken, but that night his heart was beating so heavily in his chest that it made his ears ring. Not now wasn’t even necessarily a no. He knew, logically, that it didn’t make them engaged, but the realization that woke him up was that not now meant that if he asked again in the future then her answer could very likely be yes.

Five years after Steven Universe left Beach City, he comes to the peak of his journey of self-discovery when he realizes his life just wouldn't be the same without Connie in it.

AO3

Or under the cut:

Steven Universe is 22 years old.

Ever since he left Beach City at sixteen and a half, he’s felt peace he never knew was possible. It’s not like he hated living there, or that he never wanted to see anyone who still lived there ever again, oh no. It’s just that when he finally had time to really process what his dad had been trying to tell him, along with a few more listen-throughs of his dad’s Kerry Moonbeam CD, he came to the realization that yeah, maybe a change of scenery really would do him some wonders. It wasn’t running away from all his problems, like he’d originally thought when he was too angry to process what Greg had been trying to tell him, it was a journey of self-discovery.

And when he finally chalked it up to tell Greg he wanted to move on, he had been expecting shock, or wave upon wave of waterworks. And, okay, maybe there had been waterworks, and maybe most of it had been on his own side, but to his surprise, Greg was super supportive of his decisions and told him he was ready to help him start packing as soon as he was ready. It’s not that he wanted Steven to leave, or anything, he just wanted to be as supportive of his endeavors as possible, something he never received from his own parents.

“I had to crawl out my bedroom window, even with two suitcases that probably weighed about 25 pounds each!” he’d exclaimed, and even to this day Steven can’t tell if he had been joking or if he had been dead serious about it.

Either way, Steven was grateful. Grateful for the support not only from Greg, but from the Gems and all of the townsfolk of Beach City as well. If he hadn’t gotten their immense support, he’s not sure if he’d even gone through with it, and he never would’ve had the opportunity to discover so much about himself and the world around him. While he made ground-breaking progress discovering himself and his mental health through therapy and time alone with his friends and family, the time he had all to himself now that he was on the road finally gave him time to discover even the littlest of things about him, the things that made him human.

Like how he’d discovered, upon stumbling across a music store, that for someone who could masterfully play the ukulele and the piano when he was six, that he sucked at playing wind instruments.

Or that it isn’t just hometown bias, and Fish Stew Pizza really is the best in the state.

Or that he really, really missed eating fried eggs, and that one month where he’d only drank protein shakes for breakfast was the biggest mistake of his life.

Or even the fact that not only were some of the surrounding states still selling Cookie Cats, but some places were even selling flavors other than the classic vanilla-strawberry.

All these little things that really made him realize that maybe his dad had been speaking metaphorically when he’d mused about his first time trying a taco.

But despite all of these discoveries, and changes, and new experiences, there was always one consistency he could always count on when he was on the road. One consistency that made everything just that much more magical than any mission he’d ever been on with the gems. One consistency that reminded him that wherever he went in the world, wherever he’d end up, he’d always have-

Suddenly, his phone starts ringing. It’s just one five little note ringtone, but it’s enough for Steven to start grinning from ear to ear. He doesn’t even need to take his eyes off the road for half a second to check the caller ID to know who it is. He adjusts his phone’s place on the car clip Pearl had gifted him on his birthday a few years prior, and slides the screen to the right to answer the call.

“Connie!” he grins again, despite the fact he knows that she can’t see him. “Just on time, I just pulled into town. You done with classes?”

“Just finished about twenty minutes ago,” she replies, and even without being able to see her he can tell she’s grinning too. “I wanted to get a head start at packing so you wouldn’t try to carry all of my stuff out in one go to try and impress me”

Steven blushes. “That was one time!”

She giggles. “That was winter break, Steven. It wasn’t that long ago. Plus, I only have half the stuff to take home with me, since spring break only lasts the week”.

“Awww, only a week?” he replies in mock-disappointment, a stand-in for his lack of ability to pout at her right now.

She snorts. “I’ll be home for the summer a month from now, Steven”

“I know”, he replies, pulling into a parking lot across from her on-campus apartment. “I just can’t stand to be apart from you” he whines exasperatedly, to which Connie replies with hysterical laughter. It makes his heart skip in his chest.

Connie.

Connie Maheswaran, the love of his life, has been without exaggeration, the best piece of consistency in his life he could ask for. Every time she wants to visit her parents at home in Beach City, or every time she wants to go on a short weekend trip of her own, or even just when she wants to grab breakfast somewhere other than her campus dining halls, she calls him and he picks her up without a question about it. Truth be told, she got her license about six months after he got his, but even five years into their relationship she’s told him that she loves any excuse she can to be around him. And he’d be lying to everyone in the galaxy if he tried denying for even a second that he felt the same way about her.

Five years ago, he had asked Ruby and Sapphire for relationship advice. Five years ago, they had both eagerly suggested proposing marriage, and five years ago he went through with it out of desperation for any sense of consistency and assurance he’d have at least one person in his life that wouldn’t leave him behind.

Five years ago, he’d received a “not now”, and for days after the self-hating part of his brain had interpreted it as “no, never”.

It was a few weeks after his “corruption fiasco”, as he referred to it, that he shot up in bed in the middle of the night, finally processing the weight behind her choice of phrasing. At the time of the proposal he’d been heartbroken, but that night his heart was beating so heavily in his chest that it made his ears ring. Not now wasn’t even necessarily a no. He knew, logically, that it didn’t make them engaged, but the realization that woke him up was that not now meant that if he asked again in the future then her answer could very likely be yes. Had it not been 2:45 in the morning when the thought came to him, he would’ve called her right then and there to talk about it.

There’s a sudden light knock on his car window, startling him out of his thoughts so suddenly that he yelps. He turns to see who it could be, and he’s met with Connie’s grinning face as she silently waves hello to him.

“Connie!” he grins, and scrambles to unclick his seatbelt as he opens his car door to greet her. They exchange a tight, squeezing hug, followed by a soft, sweet kiss.

“What kept you?” she asks, once they pull away from the kiss. “I thought you said you wanted to help me pack, but you never came upstairs after we hung up”

“Huh?” Steven blinks, but a quick glance behind her and he notices that she already has both of her bags with her. He blushes, rubbing at the back of his head. “Oh, sorry, I, uh…” he coughs awkwardly, the blush on his cheeks only worsening. “I was just...thinking”.

She gives him a soft smile, but doesn’t question further. She drags her bags to Steven’s Dondai, opens the back door, and tosses her bags inside before closing the door again. On her way over to the passenger’s side door, she stops, places a gentle hand on Steven’s chest, and kisses him on the cheek. “Full of mystery as always,” she teases, gently patting his chest where her hand lay. His blush worsens even more, and it must practically be written all over his face at this point, because Connie snickers again. “You haven’t changed a bit”.

“Heh, well, you know me, Steven Universe” Steven’s voice cracks as he goes to open Connie’s door for her, and she giggles once more before he finally settles into his own seat on the driver’s side. Once they’re both strapped in, and finally sure that yes, they’re done kissing, they swear, Steven settles his back against his seat and sighs comfortably.

He taps rhythmically against the steering wheel. “So…” he says, turning his gaze towards Connie once again. “What are you thinking? Diner first, or are you itching to get home?”

“Pshh, like you even have to ask”, she smirks.

The first time that Steven had driven up to visit Connie on her campus, they had accidentally stumbled across a little diner called Rosa’s when they’d been looking for somewhere to eat. They’d shared awkward giggles over the pink roses scattered all over the sign advertising the place, and decided to check the place out “just for the joke”, but were soon to discover that Rosa’s sold the best pie slices either of them had ever had, and took it upon themselves to try a different slice of pie every time they went there. He’s yet to find one better than their cherry pie slices, but Connie always teases him with the increasingly likely fact that it’s just because it’s the first flavor he ever tried.

This is the kind of consistency Steven is talking about. He can visit the gems any time, he talks to his dad on the phone on an almost nightly basis, and his weekly escapades with Lars are still going strong. But nothing makes him feel more consistent, more human, than when he’s with Connie. Looking forward to things as mundane as pie slices, or silent car rides, or very not-so-silent car rides, or cloud gazing, or stargazing, or anything he gets to experience with her makes everything in his life feel that much more cheerful and exciting.

The morning after he woke up in the middle of the night with the words not now repeating over and over in his head, he called her as soon as he woke up and told her he wanted to talk about what happened after he returned home from the hospital. Good news this time, I promise, he had told her, and minutes later they were right back where they had been, walking hand and hand down the shoreline. They talked all morning about their relationship, and the future near and far, and after dozens of rejected apologies on the grounds that Connie insisted he didn’t need to make them, they shared their first real kiss.

And Steven had felt like he was on cloud nine.

And for every kiss after, every phone call, every date, that feeling of cloud nine never really went away. It felt unreal, being with Connie.

Five years ago, if he’d been asked, he would’ve said he couldn’t live without Connie. He’d say he needed her, like his life depended on it, like he wouldn’t have a future without her. If someone asked him now, he’d say sure, he could live without Connie, but he can’t possibly imagine why he would ever want to.

Not now.

That had been when Connie was a sophomore in high school. They were sixteen. She hadn’t even taken the SATs yet (whatever those were), let alone gotten accepted into any of her colleges of choice. They were still kids, stuck in their pining phases, too scared to make the first move, let alone call the other their partner to their face.

Connie’s a senior in college now. She’ll be graduating in a month and a half. She’s been working on job applications since the end of her junior year. Her birthday is coming up in a few weeks. Where they once giggled at the idea of holding hands, it’s now harder to catch them with their hands apart. They’re inseparable when they’re together. Ruby and Sapphire have Garnet. Steven and Connie have Stevonnie, but he realizes now he doesn’t need Stevonnie, just as Ruby and Sapphire don’t necessarily need Garnet.

He doesn’t need to be with Connie forever to be happy; he wants to be with Connie forever because she makes him so happy.

If he weren’t so focused on driving a car right now, the thought would’ve slammed into him a lot harder than it did. As a matter of fact, he’s almost surprised he didn’t accidentally slam the breaks of the car on, the way those thoughts seemed to crash into him. He takes a quick moment to glance over at her in the seat beside him, and she’s staring dreamily out the window, looking just as lost in thought as he just felt.

The idea crosses his mind that she could be thinking about the same things as him, and it brings a pink blush to his cheeks once again. He quickly turns his attention back to the road, and practically sighs in relief when he sees that they’re pulling up to the diner. Once parked, he takes a deep breath as quietly as he can manage, and turns to Connie.

“Hey,” he smiles in an attempt to assure her that there’s nothing wrong. “You think you can go in and get our table? I’m gonna give the gems a call and let them know we’re on our way”. He hates lying to her, but it’s the closest he can come to the truth without blatantly telling her he’s thinking of proposing again, so he brushes it off as “not counting as lying”.

As if she’s trying to read his thoughts, Connie glances at him for a few moments, before she leans over to kiss him on the cheek. “Sure,” she says, and unclips her seatbelt and steps out of the car. She leans on her door for a moment, smirking. “Don’t take too long,” she teases, and it’s with a grin and a silent wave from Steven that she closes the door and heads into the diner.

As soon as he’s sure she’s gone, he scrambles for his phone in his pocket, and shakily scrolls through his list of contacts until he reaches G. He takes a deep breath, to center himself, and hits call.

“Hello, Steven” Garnet answers after only two rings. “It’s so good to hear from you. I assume you and Connie are on your way home?”

“Yep!” Steven replies cheerily, but rubs awkwardly at the back of his head. “But, uh, that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about”.

“Oh?”

He closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

“I’ve been thinking about proposing to Connie. For real this time”.

There’s a painfully long silence. Steven’s almost worried he accidentally hung up, or that there’s terrible service, until suddenly there’s the sound of “STEVEN!!! STEVEN STEVEN STEVEN!!!!” from Ruby’s voice screaming into the other end of the ear piece. “I KNOW I’M HORRIBLE AT ADVICE BUT DO IT!! DO IT! YOU TWO ARE SO CUTE TOGETHER!! DO IT DO IT DO IT!!!!” she squeals, and Steven laughs, albeit a bit uncomfortably.

“Oh, hey Ruby…” he says. “It’s great to talk to you, but I was really hoping I could talk to-” he starts, but there’s the sound of the phone dropping to the floor on the other end followed by another short pause.

“Me,” Garnet finishes his sentence for him. “Sorry, those two just can’t contain themselves when they hear any talk of weddings. You were a terrible influence on them”, she teases, and Steven blushes again.

“I know….” he replies, but then he shakes his head to reorganize his thoughts. “Wait, no, I don’t have a lot of time, Connie’s waiting for me in the diner”.

On the other end, Garnet chuckles. “Wow, you’re really serious about this”.

“I wasn’t going to do it right now!” Steven squeaks, face burning hotter than it’s ever felt in his entire life. “I don’t even have a ring yet,” he mumbles, nervously playing with his hair. “I called you because I wanted to ask if you thought I should go through with it”.

“Hmmm….” Garnet hums, like she’s actually running the numbers in her head. “Well,” she finally says after a painfully long pause of what couldn’t have been longer than three seconds. “Do you love Connie?”

Garnet’s going to kill him, he swears. He’s going to melt into a puddle right here on the seat of his car.

“Yes, I love Connie more than anything else in the world!”

“Do you think she loves you?”

“I…” Steven freezes. “I’m pretty sure, I can’t exactly speak for-”

“Do you want to take care of her?” Garnet cuts him off.

The question suddenly makes him tear up. He wipes at his eyes. “I-I mean, she can take care of herself, but if she’d let me-”

“Then I think you should.” Garnet replies surprisingly nonchalantly. “Steven, I want you to listen to me very carefully. The reason your proposal didn’t work out the first time was because you and Connie were very young. You know that. The probability of Connie saying yes or no doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that you would be asking her the second time. Your proposal to her this time wouldn’t be any less valid because you thought you had wanted the same thing when you were sixteen. Connie’s answer can’t be swayed by me looking into your future. I can look all you want into hundreds and thousands of different futures, and it still won’t matter. If you want to propose to Connie, all you have to be sure of is whether or not it’s what you truly want. You have to be absolutely certain that you love her to the moon and back and you need to have the self-confidence to tell yourself that she loves you just the same. You need to want to take care of her just as much as she’s going to take care of you. You have to understand that Connie is your equal, not what makes you whole. You have to look inside yourself and ask if you believe your love for Connie is strong enough to withstand anything. You can ask me to look into whatever future you want, but the person you should really be asking these questions is yourself. So tell me, Steven Universe, do you believe it’s the right thing to do?”

His vision is blurry with tears again. “I do.” He wipes his tears with his wrist. “Thanks, Garnet”.

“Don’t thank me, thank yourself” she says, and then, after a short pause, “I love you, Steven”.

He giggles. “I love you too”.

Clicking his phone off and placing it back into his pocket, he exits the car to join Connie in the diner. And if he thought he felt euphoric the first time he came to this conclusion, when he was skipping around Beach City gathering flowers and a suit and his own wedding cake, that’s nothing compared to how he feels now, when he’s not even planning to propose until he can stop by the jewelry store just outside of Beach City, and he can’t even do that with Connie in the passenger seat of his car.

He stops at the door of the diner, fixes his hair in his barely-visible reflection in the window, and steps inside.

“Steven, over here!” Connie waves at him from a table towards the back, and his heart starts beating so hard in his chest he wouldn’t be surprised if she could hear it. “Everything okay back home?”

He grins. “Well, Garnet fell apart on me,” he shrugs, intentionally pausing long enough to raise concern, “but that’s just because Ruby really wanted to talk to me”.

She snickers. “Well, after all that proposal business, I’m not surprised”.

The color fades from Steven’s face. There’s no way she could’ve overheard his phone conversation from in here, could she? He wasn’t projecting his thoughts to her phone again, was he?

“What?”

She reaches across the table and takes his hands in his own, smiling softly. “Steven, I’m kidding. I just meant that I’m not surprised she falls apart so easily”.

“Oh, “Steven practically sighs in relief. “Well, you know them, falling apart to win a baseball game against Homeworld”. He says, trying desperately to cover up the slamming of his heart.

She laughs again, retrieving one of her hands back from him to cover her mouth, a habit she never quite broke from when they first started dating, and it’s this little meaningless gesture that Steven finds himself falling even more in love with Connie. He starts giggling too, and he’s not quite sure if it’s because of his own set of thoughts, or if it’s because Connie’s laughter is just that adorably contagious, or maybe it’s some kind of beautiful mixture of both.

Either way, he can barely finish his slice of pie when it comes to the table.

“I guess I’m just...really excited to get back home again”, he explains when she asks about it once they’re back in the car, which technically isn’t a lie either.

“Mmm, me too” she agrees sleepily, curling up against her seat in the car. “Kinda makes me wish I ate less so I’d be awake when we got there”.

He chuckles, sparing a glance over to her. Her hair is already falling over her face, and her cheek is squished up against the seat. God, he loves her so, so much. “Yeah, well, if you’re still asleep when we get to your parents’ house, I’ll carry you to your room myself”.

“Mmm,” she murmurs, like she wasn’t fully paying attention to what he actually said. “That sounds nice”.

He laughs again, quieter this time, and takes the rest of the car ride to let himself stew in his thoughts. There’s nothing he wants more, he realizes, then to be able to do this every day with her. Not just casual dates to local diners for dinner and slices of pie, but for moments like this, falling asleep in the car on the way home, trusting the other enough to safely guide them home.

She’s still asleep when they pull up to her parents’ house, and, a man of his word, Steven carries her all the way to her room (with assurance to her parents that she’s fine, she’s just tired from the ride, she’s okay with being carried).

Dr. and Mr. Maheswaran, who love their daughter more than anything, who’ve known Steven for less than a decade, simply nod their heads and let him handle everything.

That’s a silent blessing if he’s ever heard one.

On his way out the door, he wishes them a good night, and once in his car, makes a beeline for the jewelry store. He makes it to the store just before closing, and takes it as good a sign as any that it’s now or never.

And the moment he parks his car on the beach in front of the temple, Garnet’s there, and as soon as Steven steps out of the car and into her embrace, he’s laughing, and he’s crying, and it’s the hardest he’s cried in five years, and the best he’s felt in even longer.

Despite everything, despite the driving and the diner and all the catching up he’d been doing with the gems and his dad last night, Steven is running on the least amount of sleep he’s ever gotten in his life.

It’s not that he spent the whole night worrying that she’s going to say no, it’s that he’s not sure he’s ever been more excited in his entire life. Call him cheesy, call him cliché, but he’s been planning his own wedding for as long as he can remember, but now that it might happen in the near future? With Connie?

He’s not sure how he’s going to handle popping the question, let alone how Connie’s going to react to it.

His phone tells him it’s 8:30am, but he’s already been awake for so long that it feels much later than that. He’s lucky that Connie never broke her early bird habits in college, because if she had made him wait even another hour he’s sure that he would’ve exploded from anticipation. He’s standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom, trying to fix up his hair to look nice, but not so nice that it’s obvious something’s up, and once he’s satisfied with how it looks he takes one more look at himself in the mirror.

“Take a good long look,” he says to his reflection, “because the next time you see me you may be looking at Steven Universe-Maheswaran”. Just hypothetically attaching her last name to his own makes him grin, so he repeats the name under his breath again, and again, like he’s six years old again telling himself in the mirror that he’s a Crystal Gem too.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and there’s only two words on his phone screen, but right now they feel like the most important words in the world.

“I’m here.” Sent by Connie at 8:39am

He takes one more deep breath, exits the bathroom, and grabs the ring box from the kitchen counter before he steps outside.

“So...what’s so important that you just had to tell me so early in the morning?” Connie asks as they walk down the steps of his house. He tries to shrug and act as nonchalant as he can, but fails miserably. He takes her hand in his own, and squeezes it gently.

“Take a walk with me”.

“Oh,” Connie blinks, like it wasn’t what she was expecting him to say at all. “Okay,”

As they’re walking away from the house, down the beach and out of the view of the temple and even further out of view of the rest of Beach City, Steven looks around and thinks back, back to the hundreds of times they’d walked this very beach together, as innocent friends, as comrades in battle, as boyfriend and girlfriend, and now, if things go right….

He stops in his tracks, gently. “Connie?”

“Yes?”

He places his hand on top of hers, gazing into her beautiful, soft brown eyes. Keep it together, he tells himself, his breath already getting shaky. Slowly, to steady his balance and his rapidly pounding, he sinks to one knee, and Connie, quick as ever, takes a step backwards.

“S-Steven?”

“Connie….” He pulls his ring box out of his pocket and pops it open to reveal a beautiful, sparkling engagement ring. “Will you marry me?” He asks, his eyes sparkling brighter than they’ve ever sparkled. Before she can open her mouth to say anything, he places the ring box on the sand and takes Connie’s hand in his own again. “Connie, I love you so much. I love you more than every planet in the galaxy, more than every single gem on Homeworld combined. I want to be with you for the rest of my life because I can’t imagine life without you in it.” he shakes his head.

“I know I said the same thing when we were sixteen. But I don’t mean it the same way now that I did then. You’re strong, and you’re beautiful, and you’re smart, and it’s like Garnet once told me, your soulmate is your compliment, not your missing piece. I want to be your compliment, Connie. I want to be your cheerleader. I don’t care if I’m thousands of lightyears away on some escapade with Lars, or you’re working towards getting your PhD, I want to be there for you. I want to experience everything with you, the same way we used to when we were kids.” He picks his ring box back up. “I want to marry you, Connie” he grins, finally caving in on the tears rolling down his cheeks. “No Stevonnie required”.

There’s a pause, and for a moment, Steven can’t see anything through his own tears. He blinks to clear his vision, and she’s staring at him with her hands covering over her mouth, failing miserably not to cry herself. Her gaze keeps glancing from the ring box to Steven and back again.

They make direct eye contact for the briefest of moments, and she practically dives on him. “Yes, yes yes!” she sobs. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you!” She beams, and out of heat of the moment euphoria, Steven picks Connie up in his arms and starts spinning her around and around until there’s a bright flash of light surrounding them and, ironically, Stevonnie is standing alone on the beach with their arms wrapped around themself.

Upon realizing what’s happened, Stevonnie start laughing, and laughing, and they drop to the sand on their knees, and they don’t stop laughing until the force and sheer joy of it splits them apart into Steven and Connie, sprawled over on top of each other on the sand.

Connie rolls over from where she’d landed on top of Steven, but turns to face him so she can pepper his face with kisses. “Of course I want to marry you, Steven”, she reiterates, grinning from ear to ear. She takes his face in her hands like she’d done dozen of times before. “I love you so much. You didn’t need to prepare some big speech for me, Steven. It’s like I’ve always said”, she stands, and offers her hand out to Steven to help him stand to his feet.

“I want to be a part of your universe”.

#my writing #connverse #steven universe #su #suf

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unsaid-stardust · 4 years ago

Text

Cowboys and Sheriffs

Author’s note: ok wow an overwhelming amount of people said they wanted this fic so uhhh...here it is!! Tagging those of you who commented! 💜

Tagging: @littledancersun @mambofivehargreeves @sunsetcurves @verified-dumbass @julie-and-the-phantoms-stan @jatpobsessedgirl @meangirlsx @letyourcolors @kikicalanmai

"Aha! Gotcha! Any last words?" Reggie holds his hands up in defense, cornered, unable to escape. He stares his enemy down, not wanting to give up his guard.

"No need for last words when I won!" Reggie shouts. He immediately reaches into his back pocket and forms his fingers into a fake gun. He proceeds to shoot at his enemy in front of him, throwing a pillow in place of a bullet. The enemy is hit, flying backward onto the ground, crying out in surrender.

"Ah! Mijo! I told you to stop playing dead and throwing pillows around the house! Someone could get hurt and the ghost could take it as an opportunity to haunt you!" Tía shouts, almost tripping over Carlos on the floor. Reggie felt his jaw drop slightly in hurt, he would never haunt anyone and the fact that Tía even felt like he could, showed how much she didn't know him. That's because she doesn't know you. Reggie heard Alex's annoying sarcasm in the back of his head. He chose to ignore it; it's what he does when Alex is there anyway. He would never haunt anyone, especially Carlos. Carlos stands up with a sigh.

"Tía I told you-pillows are harmless! And there is no ghost! I never thought this day would come, but as the man of the house, I have to be honest. I was wrong and ghosts don't exist," Carlos explains, winking in Reggie's direction. Oh good, he's faking it. I really thought I was losing him there for a second.

"Man of the house? Mijo what are you-" Carlos takes the opportunity to stop her from lecturing.

"Uh you know, why don't you go ask dad? I think he was in the kitchen when I saw him!" Carlos guides Tía towards the kitchen. She protests, but goes with it nonetheless and leaves Carlos and Reggie to their own devices. Reggie makes himself visible to Carlos then. Yeah, they could do that now, well, sometimes. Reggie was still having trouble figuring out this newfound power of visibility. He couldn't do it all the time and when he id able to do it, it's not for very long. But, it's long enough to talk to Carlos.

"Good save, little man. But, Why'd you have to go and put Ray in that position? Tía's gonna be lecturing him for awhile now and I wanted to stop by and see him before rehearsal!" Reggie explains.

"Well it was either have us go through Tía's lecture or have it be dad and that was an easy decision. And I don't really get why you like hanging out with my dad so much. I mean he is a pretty cool dad, despite the times he tries to use modern slang like 'lit' and 'yeet', but otherwise he just kinda sits there and sifts through mail or whatever it is dads do. Besides, you can't even be visible in front of him because Julie hasn't told him about you being a ghost yet," Carlos responds.

Reggie suddenly feels like an anchor just tethered him to the bottom of the ocean. His feet feeling as though they were glued to the floor beneath him and he couldn't go anywhere, he couldn't even poof out if he tried. And suddenly, he could hear the echoing yells. The ones that fifteen and sixteen and seventeen-year-old Reggie knew oh so well. His parents.

"Regg, you okay?" Carlos snaps him out of wherever he was. He blinks to get rid of the remnants of his memories.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I'm good. But, I gotta go get to practice! Sheriffs and Cowboys round 3 tomorrow though, right?" Reggie finger guns in Carlos' direction and Carlos' face lights up again.

"Yeah, totally! But I'm the cowboy this time!" Carlos adds, a stern look on his face. Reggie frowns.

"What? Come on! You know cowboys are my thing!" He protests. Carlos raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms in defense.

"Aren't you late for practice?" He interrogates. Reggie drops his jaw slightly, almost forgetting about practice completely. He poofs out quickly, but realizes that he hasn't fully solidified his accustomed position as cowboy. He poofs back into the living room briefly and adds

"We're not done here!"

~*~

Later that night, after practice seemed to have end, Carlos heads towards Julie's room. He may not know Reggie all that well and he might only be 12, but he knew something was bothering Reggie and he wanted to change that. Reggie's kinda become a big brother to Carlos. Julie is cool and all, for an older sister Carlos couldn't have asked for a better one, but it was nice having another guy in the house. Julie doesn't play Cowboys and Sheriffs with him or watch all the Star Wars movies or show the same enthusiasm over the third French Dip. Besides, if Reggie is all mopey or spaced-out or whatever, then he wouldn't play Cowboy and Sheriff with the amount of energy that it requires!

Julie claims that the guys don't talk about their past that often, so she didn't know much about Reggie, but Luke had told her after an argument had erupted during practice one day and Reggie poofed out, that his parents used to argue a lot. They were close to divorcing apparently. She thinks that's why he likes hanging out with their dad all the time even though it can appear to be boring.

"So then why haven't you told dad about them yet? That's what Reggie needs! The ability to talk to dad!" Carlos shouts.

"It's not that simple, Carlos. I mean yeah, dad's pretty cool, but do you think he'd be cool with three teenage boys living in our studio?!" Julie responds. Carlos stopped. He hated to admit it, but she was right. As much as he wanted Reggie to be able to talk to him, he didn't think that'd go over so well.

"Fine, you got a point. But, there's gotta be some way Reggie can talk to dad. Please, how are we supposed to watch Star Wars if he keeps spacing out all the time?" Carlos pouts. Julie looks at her little brother. Her first instinct is to say "no". Reggie isn't that subtle at being a ghost, Tía still won't be in the living room by herself. But, She can't help, but think about how proud their mom would've been at how caring Carlos is. And because of this she says

"Ok, alright, I think I have a way,"

~*~

"Carlos! Little man! Where are you!" Reggie calls, searching the house for Carlos. He's been everywhere and he hasn't seen him, which is odd because it's 3:30 and Carlos should be home from school by now. Plus, they were supposed to meet at the usual spot to play their round of Cowboys and Sheriffs.

"If this is because you have to be Sheriff again, I'm sorry! You can be the Cowboy this time!" He tries again. Suddenly, he feels all tingly and warped and that can only mean one thing.

"Oh hey, Julie! Have you seen Carlos? We're supposed to play Cowboys and Sheriffs," He explains. Julie shakes her head and decides to keep the fact that Carlos can't actually hear him unless he's visible to herself.

"Yeah! He's in the kitchen," Julie motions Reggie to follow her and she leads him to the kitchen. When he enters, he sees Carlos sitting at the dinner table with Ray. They're chatting about something, but Reggie can't follow the conversation. Carlos and Julie exchange a look then and Julie motions him to follow her towards the table.

"Hey, daaaad. Remember when you said you wanted to meet the band?" Julie questions. Reggie raises his eyebrow.

"I do, but I think I recall you saying that they don't like to be seen or something along those lines," He answers, sitting back in his chair. Julie's jaw drops a bit from an unexpected answer.

"Uh yeah, yeah I did say that didn't I? But, but, I think we may have figured out a way for you to meet them! Well, one of them anyway, Carlos!" Julie nods in Carlos' direction and Reggie has never felt more confused in his entire afterlife. Except, maybe when he, you know, brought back as a ghost. Because that was pretty confusing. Carlos stands up with a smile and hands Ray a pen.

"Julie and I found this cool app that allows you to link this very pen to another. We sent one to the guys so whatever you write on your page, will show up on their page and what they write, will show up on yours," Carlos explains. Ray shakes his head, his eyebrows furrowed; Reggie does the same and Julie rolls her eyes with a smile.

"You kids and your technology. I will never understand it. But, I'll try it," He responds. Reggies stops. Was he-supposed to go write to Ray? And if he is--what was he supposed to say? Hey I've been hanging out with you and you're a cool dad, I wish you were my dad? Even Reggie knew that wouldn't work! He turns to Julie for some kind of reaction; she nods and Reggie makes his way towards Ray and his notebook. Ray finishes writing his sentence and Reggie peers at the notebook.

Hey Phantoms, this is Julie's dad. Can you read this?

Reggie let out a small chuckle and picks up the pen.

Loud and clear, Ray-Reggie

"This technology is amazing it looks like it's writing itself! You kids are incredible!" Ray shouts, dramatically motioning towards the pen. Carlos walks towards his sister, exchanging a knowing smile. She puts her hand on his shoulder and he leans into her side. He watches Reggie and sees his smile widen every time her dad writes something. He sees him looking like a kid who has just opened the gift on Christmas Morning that they had been asking for all year. He sees him jump up in excitement at their dad's answers.

"He likes Country music!" Reggie couldn't be happier.

"I told you guys he'd like Country! I have to play him some of my Country stuff!" Carlos shakes his head and looks up at his sister.

"I'm gonna have to find another Cowboy, aren't I?"

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #Carlos molina #this is seriously an overwhelming amount of people who said they'd read it and I literally cannot express how much that means to me #for real #bree writes #ALSO DID ANYONE CATCH THE REGGIE'S JAM REFERENCE #PLS SAY YES

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fuckofffuckofffuckoffloveme · 4 years ago

Text

Runaway - Part Fifteen

~Masterlist~

Concept: Hazel Richards is a twenty-year-old woman living in London. When she meets a mysterious time-travelling alien known only as the Hunter, she’s thrust into a world of wonder she could only have imagined.

Warnings: swearing, follows S1 of Doctor Who.

Mike Denman stepped off the train at Cardiff Central railway station and headed to the Roald Dahl Plass. He smiled when he saw the TARDIS parked just in front of the huge water tower, walked up, and knocked on the door. It swung open to show a handsome man with dark hair and a confused expression. "Who the hell are you?"

"What do you mean, who the hell am I? Who the hell are you?" Mike demanded.

"Captain Jack Harkness." He flashed his signature brilliant smile. "Whatever you're selling, we're not buying."

Mike narrowed his eyes. "Get out of my way!" He pushed past Jack and into the TARDIS, making the man roll his eyes as he closed the door.

"Don't tell me. This must be the pikey you were telling me about."

The Hunter beamed down at them from a ladder, where she was fixing a light fitting on the wall. She was wearing a white t-shirt with blue skinny jeans, and ankle boots. "Here comes trouble! How're you doing, Spike?"

"It's Mike!"

Hazel rolled her eyes, sipping from a cup of hot chocolate. Judging both by this and her thick hoodie, she wasn't planning on running around much today. Maybe they'd be able to have a quiet day together for once? "Don't listen to her, she's winding you up."

"Damn right, I am," the Hunter muttered in the background, smirking.

"You look fantastic," Mike told Hazel, hugging her. Startled, she held her hot chocolate out of the way and hoped it wouldn't spill.

"Aw, sweet, look at these two," Jack sighed, leaning against the console next to the ladder. "How come I never get any of that?"

"Well, you'd have to buy me a drink first," the Hunter told him, winking.

He sighed despairingly. "You're such hard work."

"Yeah, but worth every bit of it," she smirked.

"Did you manage to find them?" Hazel asked eagerly.

"There you go," Mike smiled, handing over the fake IDs and passport. Little did he know, the IDs were in for a cathartic burning session later - it'd been Jack's idea.

Hazel grinned. "I can go anywhere now."

"I told you, you don't need a passport," the Hunter rolled her eyes, making her way down the ladder.

"It's all very well going to Platform One and Justicia and the Glass Pyramid of San Kaloon, but what if we end up in Brazil? I might need it," Hazel pointed out. "You see, I'm prepared for anything."

"Sounds like you're staying then," Mike noticed. Everybody looked at him, and he changed the subject. "So what're you doing in Cardiff? And who the hell's Jumping Jack Flash? I mean, I don't mind you hanging out with Soulless Samantha over there."

"Oi!" the Hunter exclaimed.

"Listen to yourself," Mike sneered. "But this guy, I don't know, he's kind of -"

"Handsome?" Jack suggested, grinning.

"More like cheesy," Mike corrected, clearly not impressed.

Jack looked to the Hunter. "Queenie, early twenty first century slang. Is cheesy good or bad?"

"It's bad," Mike deadpanned before she could get a word in.

"But bad means good, isn't that right?" Jack shrugged.

"Are you saying I'm not handsome?" the Hunter asked, nudging him.

"You're not handsome, you're beautiful," Jack told her, making her grin.

"We just stopped off," Hazel cut in, seeing Mike looking at them with disgust. "We need to refuel. The thing is, Cardiff's got this rift running through the middle of the city. It's invisible, but it's like an earthquake fault between different dimensions."

"The rift was healed back in 1869," the Hunter continued.

"Thanks to a girl named Gwyneth," Hazel added, "because these creatures called the Gelth, they were using the rift as a gateway, but she saved the world and closed it."

"But closing a rift always leaves a scar," Jack explained, "and that scar generates energy, harmless to the human race -"

The Hunter nodded. "But perfect for the TARDIS, so just park her here for a couple of days right on top of the scar, and -"

"Open up the engines, soak up the radiation," Jack continued.

"Like filling her up with petrol and off we go!" Hazel cheered.

"Into time!" Jack exclaimed.

"And space!" they all shouted together, high-fiving.

Mike just stared at them for a moment. "My God, have you seen yourselves? You all think you're so clever, don't you?"

"Yeah," Hazel nodded.

"Yep!" Jack agreed.

"It does seem to be the general consensus," the Hunter shrugged, leading them out onto Roald Dahl Plass and locking the door behind them. "Should take another twenty four hours, which means we've got time to kill."

"That old lady's staring," Mike noticed.

Jack smirked. "Probably wondering what four people could do inside a small wooden box."

Mike stared at him, looking horrified by the mere suggestion. "What are you captain of, the Innuendo Squad?"

"Well, actually -"

"Jack!" Hazel exclaimed, and they both burst out laughing, the Hunter watching fondly.

"Wait, the TARDIS, we can't just leave it," Mike protested as they started walking away. "Doesn't it get noticed?"

"Yeah, what's with the police box?" Jack asked. "Why does it look like that?"

"It's a cloaking device," Hazel told them.

"It's called a chameleon circuit," the Hunter explained. "The TARDIS is meant to disguise herself wherever she lands, like if this was Ancient Rome, she'd be a statue on a plinth or something. But I landed in the '60s, she disguised herself as a police box, and the circuit got stuck."

"So it copied a real thing?" Mike asked. "There actually was police boxes?"

"Yeah, on street corners," the Hunter nodded. "Phone for help before they had radios and mobiles. If they arrested someone, they could shove them inside till help came, like a little prison cell."

Jack shook his head slightly. That didn't sound too pleasant. "Why don't you just fix the circuit?"

She pouted. "I like it, don't you?"

"I love it," Hazel grinned.

"But that's what I meant," Mike said, pulling the conversation back to him. "There's no police boxes anymore, so doesn't it get noticed?"

The Hunter smiled, standing in front of him with her hands on his shoulders. Despite being an inch or so shorter, she still intimidated him, and he didn't even know the whole of what she could do. "Spike, let me tell you something about the human race. You put a mysterious blue box slap bang in the middle of town, what do they do? Walk past it. Now, stop your nagging. Let's go and explore!" They set off walking again.

"What's the plan?" Hazel asked, looping her arms through both Jack's and the Hunter's.

The Time Lady shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. Cardiff, early twenty first century, and the wind's coming from the east. Trust me. Safest place in the universe."

***

They ended up in a small restaurant on the jetty, where Jack was telling them stories from his previous adventures.

"I swear, six feet tall and with big tusks!" he was saying.

"You're lying through your teeth!" the Hunter accused, laughing.

"I'd have gone bonkers!" Hazel cried, holding onto the table to keep her from falling out of her seat with laughter. "That's the word - bonkers!"

"I mean, it turns out the white things are tusks and I mean tusks!" Jack enthused. "And it's woken, and it's not happy."

"How could you not know it was there?" the Hunter demanded, her eyes wide and filled with happy tears.

"And we're standing there, fifteen of us, naked -"

"Naked?!" Hazel echoed, crying with laughter.

"And I'm like, oh, no, no, it's got nothing to do with me," Jack continued. "And then it roars, and we are running, oh my God, we are running! And Brakovitch falls, so I turn to him and I say -"

"I knew we should've turned left!" Mike cried.

"That's my line!" Jack exclaimed as Hazel burst out laughing all over again.

"I don't believe you!" she sighed, wiping her cheeks. "I don't believe a word you say ever. That is so brilliant! Did you ever get your clothes back?" The Hunter borrowed a newspaper from the next table, her good mood swiftly dissipating.

"No, I just picked him up, went right for the ship, full throttle. Didn't stop until I hit the spacelanes. I was shaking. It was unbelievable. It freaked me out, and by the time I got fifteen light years away I realised I'm like this."

The Hunter sighed disappointedly. "And I was having such a nice day." She showed them the newspaper, the front page of which showed Margaret Blaine as the new Lord Mayor of Cardiff.

***

In the foyer of the City Hall, Jack began to outline what they already knew about Margaret. "According to intelligence, the target is the last surviving member of the Slitheen family, a criminal sect from the planet Raxacoricofallapatorius, masquerading as a human being, zipped inside a skin suit." He nodded. "Okay, plan of attack, we assume a basic fifty seven fifty six strategy, covering all available exits on the ground floor. Queenie, you go face to face. That'll designate Exit One. I'll cover Exit Two. Jules, you're on Exit Three. Mike, you take Exit Four. Have you got that?"

The Hunter raised her eyebrows at him pointedly. "Excuse me. Who's in charge here?"

Jack bit his lip to hide a smile. "Sorry. Awaiting orders, your Majesty."

"Right, here's the plan." She paused, smirking. "Like he said. Nice plan. Anything else?"

"Present arms," Jack ordered. Each of them pulled out a mobile phone, except for the Hunter, who was fixing a Bluetooth unit to her ear.

"Ready," she nodded.

"Ready," Hazel stated.

"Ready," Mike agreed.

"Ready," Jack smiled. "Speed dial?"

"Yep," the Hunter grinned, sonicing the device.

"Ready," Hazel seconded.

"Check," Mike nodded.

Jack flashed a brilliant smile. "See you in hell."

***

The Hunter followed the signs through to the outer area of the Lord Mayor's office, where a young man was sitting at his desk just outside the door. "Hello," she smiled warmly. "I've come to see the Lord Mayor."

"Have you got an appointment?" the young man asked politely.

"No, just an old friend passing by. Bit of a surprise," she grinned. "Can't wait to see her face."

"Well, she's just having a cup of tea," he stated.

"Just go in there and tell her the Hunter would like to see her."

"The Hunter?" he echoed.

"Yeah, it's an inside joke," the Hunter lied. "Tell her exactly that. The Hunter."

"Hang on a tick," the man smiled, and went into the office. The Hunter waited patiently, smirking when she heard a teacup smash on the floor, then smiling politely when the man came back out, looking flustered. "The Lord Mayor says thank you for popping by. She'd love to have a chat, but, er, she's up to her eyes in paperwork. Perhaps if you could make an appointment for next week?"

The Hunter looked at him pityingly. "She's climbing out of the window, isn't she?"

"Yes, she is," he admitted, sighing in relief.

"Slitheen heading north," she reported, pushing past the man, through the office and out onto the balcony.

"On my way," Hazel replied.

"Over and out," Jack agreed.

"Oh my God!" Mike wailed.

"Leave the Lord Mayor alone!" the man cried, trying to pull the Hunter back from following Margaret as she climbed down a ladder on some scaffolding on the side of the building.

The Hunter rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on." She telekinetically threw the man back into the office, locking the balcony behind him. "It's like you're not even trying."

Margaret reached the bottom of the ladder and took off her brooch, starting to run. When she saw Hazel running towards her, she snarled, removing her right earring. Then Jack came running from the opposite direction.

"Margaret!" the Hunter taunted, seeing she was running in the only available direction - across the front of the building. She joined Jack and Hazel at the entrance to the alleyway at the front of the building, seeing Margaret running away from them.

"Who's on Exit Four?" Jack demanded.

"That was Mike!" Hazel supplied.

"Here I am," Mike announced, running out with one foot in a bucket.

"Oh, you pikey," the Hunter scoffed.

"Be fair, she's not exactly going to outrun us, is she?" Hazel pointed out, at which point Margaret vanished.

"She's got a teleport! That's cheating!" Jack complained. "Now we're never going to get her."

"Oh, Artie's very good at teleports," Hazel assured him.

The Hunter buzzed the sonic screwdriver in the direction of Margaret's disappearance, and she reappeared, running towards them. She frowned, turned around and vanished again, but the Hunter just brought her back. The next time she was brought back, she was standing right in front of them, and panting hard. "Do you know, I could actually do this all day," the Hunter remarked conversationally, looking down at Margaret with no pity.

"This is persecution," Margaret accused. "Why can't you leave me alone? What did I ever do to you?"

"You tried to kill me, my friend Hazel here, and destroy the entire planet," the Hunter pointed out bluntly.

Margaret blinked. "Apart from that."

***

"So, you're a Slitheen, you're on Earth, you're trapped," the Hunter mused, leading them into the presentation room of the City Hall, in which the centrepiece was a model of a nuclear power station. "Your family get killed, but you teleport out just in the nick of time. You have no means of escape. What do you do? You build a nuclear power station. But what for?"

"A philanthropic gesture," Margaret shrugged airily. "I've learnt the error of my ways."

The Hunter scoffed. "And it just so happens to be right on top of the rift."

"What rift would that be?" Margaret asked innocently.

"A rift in space and time," Jack answered. "If this power station went into meltdown, the entire planet would go -" He mimed an implosion with his hands, adding the appropriate sound effects.

"This station is designed to explode the minute it reaches capacity," the Hunter stated, looking at the model.

"Didn't anyone notice?" Hazel frowned. "Isn't there someone in London checking this sort of stuff?"

"We're in Cardiff," Margaret deadpanned. "London doesn't care. The South Wales coast could fall into the sea and they wouldn't notice." She made a face. "Oh, I sound like a Welshman. God help me, I've gone native."

"But why would she do that?" Mike asked. "A great big explosion, she'd only end up killing herself."

"She's got a name, you know," Margaret pointed out icily.

"She's not even a she, she's a thing," Mike countered.

"Oh, but she's clever," the Hunter smiled. With her metal hand, she yanked the middle section from the model and turned it over to reveal circuitry. "Fantastic."

"Is that a tribophysical waveform macro-kinetic extrapolator?" Jack asked excitedly.

The Hunter grinned, handing it over. "Couldn't have put it better myself."

"Ooh, genius!" Jack exclaimed. "You didn't build this."

"I have my hobbies," Margaret shrugged. "A little tinkering."

"No, no, no, no," Jack shook his head. "I mean, you really didn't build this. Way beyond you."

"I bet she stole it," Mike accused.

"It fell into my hands," Margaret said defensively.

"Is it a weapon?" Hazel inquired.

"It's transport," Jack told her, grinning. "You see, if the reactor blows, the rift opens. Phenomenal cosmic disaster. But this thing shrouds you in a forcefield. You have this energy bubble, so you're safe." He put the extrapolator on the ground. "Then you feed it co-ordinates, stand on top, and ride the concussion all the way out of the solar system." He stood on top demonstratively.

"It's a surfboard," Mickey realised.

"A pan-dimensional surfboard, yeah," Jack nodded.

"And it would've worked," Margaret grumbled. "I'd have surfed away from this dead end dump and back to civilisation."

Hazel frowned. "Isn't there supposed to be something about meddling kids in there?"

"You'd blow up a whole planet just to get a lift?" Mike asked, wondering why the others weren't too shocked.

"Like stepping on an anthill," Margaret smirked.

"How'd you think of the name?" the Hunter asked. She was looking at one of the banners with an expression of concern.

"What, Blaidd Drwg?" Margaret shrugged. "It's Welsh."

The Hunter rolled her eyes. "I know, but how did you think of it?"

"I chose it at random, that's all. I don't know, it just sounded good. Does it matter?"

"Blaidd Drwg," the Hunter mused, frowning.

"What's it mean?" Hazel asked.

"Bad Wolf," the Time Lady replied.

Hazel flinched, and Jack put his arm around her shoulder's - much to Mike's annoyance. "But I've heard that before. Bad Wolf. I've heard that lots of times."

"Everywhere we go," the Hunter narrowed her eyes. "Two words following us. Bad Wolf."

"How can they be following us?" Hazel whispered.

The Hunter shared a look with Jack, both of them clocking how scared Hazel actually was. "Nah, just a coincidence. Like hearing a word on the radio then hearing it all day. Never mind. Things to do. Margaret, we're going to take you home."

Jack blinked. "Hold on, isn't that the easy option, like letting her go?"

"I don't believe it!" Hazel exclaimed. "We actually get to go to Raxa - wait a minute. Raxacor -"

"Raxacoricofallapatorius," the Hunter told her in amusement.

"Raxacorico -"

"- fallapatorius."

"Raxacoricofallapatorius." Hazel's eyes widened. "That's it! I did it!" She and the Hunter hugged in celebration.

"They have the death penalty," Margaret cut in, ruining the ambience. "The family Slitheen was tried in its absence many years ago, and found guilty with no chance of appeal. According to the statutes of government, the moment I return, I am to be executed. What do you make of that, Hunter? Take me home and you take me to my death."

The Hunter regarded her coldly with those steely blue eyes. "That sounds like a not me problem."

***

Night had fallen by the time they got Margaret to the TARDIS.

"This ship is impossible," she exclaimed as Hazel shut the door behind them. "It's superb. How do you get the outside around the inside?"

"Like I'd give you the secret," the Hunter scoffed.

"I almost feel better about being defeated," Margaret admitted. "I never stood a chance. This is the technology of the gods."

The Hunter smirked. "Well, now you mention it..." She turned her attention to the extrapolator. "Jack, how's it going?"

"This extrapolator's top of the range," he told her, glancing up at Margaret. "Where did you get it?"

"Oh, I don't know. Some airlock sale?"

"Must have been a great big heist," Jack translated. "It's stacked with power."

"But we can use it for fuel?" the Hunter asked.

"It's not compatible, but it should knock off about twelve hours," Jack nodded. "We'll be ready to go by morning."

She sighed, but nodded. "Then we're stuck here overnight."

"I'm in no hurry," Margaret piped up.

Hazel smirked, sitting cross-legged on the jump seat. "We've got a prisoner. The police box really is a police box."

"You're not just police, though," Margaret pointed out. "Since you're taking me to my death, that makes you my executioners. Each and every one of you."

"Well, you deserve it," Mike shrugged.

"You're very quick to say so," Margaret noticed. "You're very quick to soak your hands in my blood, which makes you better than me how, exactly? Long night ahead. Let's see who can look me in the eye."

Mickey looked away before she even met his eyes, and neither Hazel nor Jack held her gaze for more than a few seconds. When she looked to the Hunter, though, she gasped, seeing the woman casually making several paperweights float about her head with her metal arm.

"You're a -!"

"A what?" the Hunter asked, smirking. "A mutant Time Lord? Now, now, Maggie, don't be a bitch. You're hardly my first dead body. How's about you sit down and shut up?" Stunned, Margaret did so.

***

"It's freezing out here," Hazel complained as she joined Mike outside the TARDIS, keeping her hands cosy in her hoodie pocket.

"Better than in there," Mike huffed. "She does deserve it. She's a Slitheen. I don't care. It's just weird in that box."

"I didn't really need the passport," Hazel confessed. "Or the IDs."

Mike smiled. "I've been thinking, you know, we could go have a drink. Have a pizza or something. Just you and me."

"I guess," Hazel shrugged. He was still her friend, she just didn't want to deal with the awkward 'are you staying' crap.

"And I mean, if the TARDIS can't leave until morning, we could go to a hotel, spend the night." Hazel raised her eyebrows incredulously, and he backtracked. "I mean, if you want to. I've got some money."

"Mike, can I ask you a question?" Hazel bit her lip.

"Sure, what's up?"

"Are you seriously still labouring under the impression that I'm straight?" Mike blinked, and she laughed. "Oh, come on! How many times have I told you? It's been four years!"

"Oh, shut up!" he complained, not meeting her eyes. "Of course I knew. I just... You never know."

She narrowed her eyes. "What part of not attracted to men are you not getting?"

"Well, you know, I'm different," he shrugged. "I'm your mate."

"Yeah, and I'm gay," she stressed, raising her eyebrows.

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever. There's a couple bars around here. We should give them a go, you know, before we go for pizza." He saw her glance back at the TARDIS. "Do you have to go and tell her?"

She shook her head. "She knows."

***

Inside the TARDIS, the Hunter shook her head, watching them walk away on the monitor.

"What?" Jack asked, coming to see.

"He's trying so hard to get in there," she told him, snorting. "It's pitiful."

"Does he know she's gay?" Jack frowned.

"Oh, yeah," the Hunter nodded. "She says she's been telling him for four years."

"What a dick," Jack muttered.

"I gather it's not always like this, having to wait. I bet you're always the first to leave, Hunter. Never mind the consequences, off you go. You butchered my family and then ran for the stars, am I right? But not this time," Margaret smirked. "At last you have consequences. How does it feel?"

The Hunter scoffed. "I didn't butcher them."

"Don't answer back," Jack complained. "You know that's what she wants."

"Well, I didn't," she shrugged, before turning back to Margaret. "What about you? You had an emergency teleport. You didn't zap them to safety, did you?"

"It only carries one," Margaret explained. "I had to fly without co-ordinates. I ended up on a skip in the Isle of Dogs." Jack and the Hunter snorted. "It wasn't funny!"

"Sorry," the Hunter apologised, then snickered. "It is a bit funny."

Margaret rolled her eyes tiresomely. "Do I get a last request?"

"Depends what it is," the Hunter shrugged.

"I grew quite fond of my little human life," Margaret admitted. "All those rituals. The brushing of the teeth, and the complicated way they cook things. There's a little restaurant just round the Bay. It became quite a favourite of mine."

The Hunter frowned. "Is that was you want, a last meal?"

"Don't I have rights?" she pleaded.

Jack scoffed. "Oh, like she's not going to try to escape."

"Except I can never escape the Hunter, so where's the danger?" Margaret shot back, before looking to the Hunter. "I wonder if you could do it? To sit with a creature you're about to kill and take supper. How strong is your stomach?"

"Strong enough," the Hunter assured her.

"I wonder," Margaret mused. "I've seen you fight your enemies, now dine with them."

The Time Lady snorted. "You won't change my mind."

"Prove it," the Raxacoricofallapatorian snarled.

"There are people out there," the Hunter pointed out. And Hazel. "If you slip away just for one second, they'll be in danger."

"Except I've got these," Jack stated, holding up two bangles. "You both wear one. If she moves more than ten feet away, she gets zapped by ten thousand volts."

The Hunter eyed them. "Do I even want to know?"

"Not in the slightest," Jack promised, smirking.

She rolled her eyes, smiling, then turned to their captive. "Margaret, would you like to come out to dinner? My treat."

Margaret smirked. "Dinner in bondage. Works for me."

***

"Here we are, out on a date, and you haven't even asked my proper name," Margaret sighed as they settled in their chairs, the Hunter grabbing a menu.

She rolled her eyes. "It's not a date. What's your name?"

"Blon," Margaret replied. "I am Blon Fel Fotch Pasameer-Day Slitheen. That's what it'll say on my death certificate."

The Hunter smiled politely. "Nice to meet you, Blon."

"I'm sure." Margaret pointed towards the window. "Look, that's where I was living as Margaret. nice little flat, over there, on the top. Next to the one with the light on." The Hunter turned to look, and Margaret emptied powder from her ring into her wine glass. "Two bedrooms, bayside view. I was rather content. Don't suppose I'll see it again."

The Hunter turned back around, eyed Margaret, then swapped the glasses. "Suppose not."

"Thank you."

"Pleasure."

"Tell me then, Hunter. What do you know of our species?" Margaret wondered.

"Only what I've seen," the Time Lady replied, looking at the menu.

"Did you know, for example, in extreme cases, when her life is in danger, a female Raxacoricofallapatorian can manufacture a poison dart within her own finger?" She shot the dart, and the Hunter crushed it between metal fingers without looking up.

"Yes, I did."

"Just checking." Margaret leaned forwards. "And one more thing. Between you and me." The Hunter leaned forwards too. "As a final resort, the excess poison can be exhaled through the lungs." Margaret made to exhale, but the Hunter spritzed a breath freshener in her mouth.

"That's better," she grinned, before going back to her menu. "Now then, what do you think? Mmm, steak looks nice. Steak and chips."

***

Hazel and Mike had been to a few of the bars and were now leaning against the railings on Mermaid Quay. "The Hunter took me to this planet a while back," Hazel was saying. "It was much colder than this. They called it Woman Wept. The planet was actually called Woman Wept, because if you looked at it, right, from above, there's like this huge continent, all curved round. It sort of looked like a woman, you know, lamenting. Oh my God, and we went to this beach, right. No people, no buildings, just this beach like a thousand miles across. And something had happened, something to do with the sun, I don't know, but the sea had just frozen. In a split second, in the middle of a storm, right, waves and foam, just frozen, all the way out to the horizon. Midnight, right, we walk underneath these waves a hundred feet tall, made of ice." She smiled at the memory.

"I'm going out with Trisha Delaney," Mike blurted.

"Right," Hazel said, blinking. "Okay. That's nice. Trisha from the shop?"

"Yeah, Rob Delaney's sister," Mike clarified.

"Well, she's nice," Hazel nodded. "I thought you said you'd never date her."

"She lost weight," he shrugged. "You've been away."

"Well, good for you. She's nice," Hazel smiled.

"So tell us a bit more about this planet, then," he requested.

She shook her head, blowing out a breath. "That was it, really." No way was she telling him the stuff the Hunter had confided in her that day.

***

"Public execution's a slow death," Margaret stated conversationally as their steaks arrived. "They prepare a thin acetic acid, lower me into the cauldron and boil me. The acidity is perfectly gauged to strip away the skin. Internal organs fall out into the liquid, and I become soup. And still alive, still screaming."

"I don't make the law," the Hunter shrugged, stabbing a chip with her fork.

"But you deliver it," Margaret pointed out. "Will you stay to watch?"

The Hunter sighed. "What else can I do?"

"The Slitheen family's huge. There's a lot more of us, all scattered off-world. Take me to them," Margaret pleaded. "Take me somewhere safe."

"Yeah, and you'll just start again," the Hunter deadpanned.

"I promise I won't," Margaret stated hopefully.

The Hunter shook her head, scoffing. "You've been in that skin suit too long. You've forgotten. There used to be a real Margaret Blaine. You killed her and stripped her and used the skin. You're pleading for mercy out of a dead woman's lips."

"Perhaps I have got used to it," Margaret sighed. "A human life, an ordinary life. That's all I'm asking. Give me a chance, Hunter. I can change."

"I don't believe you," the Hunter stated, cutting into her steak.

***

"So, what do you want to do now?" Mike asked.

Hazel shrugged. "Don't mind."

"We could ask about hotels," he suggested.

"I'm just as gay as I was an hour ago," she rolled her eyes. "'Sides, what would Trisha Delaney say?"

"Suppose," Mike sighed. "There's a bar down there with a Spanish name or something -"

"You're not dating Trisha Delaney!" Hazel interrupted.

"Oh, is that right?" Mike scowled. "What the hell do you know?"

"I saw her three days ago cradling her firstborn child!" Hazel shot back, remembering when she'd got takeaway for herself, the Hunter, and Jack. "So who the hell do you think you're kidding?"

"At least I know where she is!" Mike shouted.

Hazel scoffed, shaking her head. "There we are, then. It's got nothing to do with Trisha. This is about me again, isn't it -?"

"You left me!" Mike cut her off. "We were nice, we were happy. And then what? You run off with her and you make me feel like nothing, Hazel. I was nothing. I can't even go out with a stupid girl from a shop because you pick up the phone and I come running. I mean, is that what I am, Hazel, standby? Am I just supposed to sit here for the rest of my life, waiting for you? Because I will."

Hazel stepped back, her eyes wide. "I'm... sorry?"

***

"I promise you I've changed since we last met, Hunter," Margaret implored. "There was this girl, just today. A young thing, something of a danger. She was getting too close. I felt the bloodlust rising, just as the family taught me. I was going to kill her without a thought. And then I stopped. She's alive somewhere right now. She's walking around this city because I can change. I did change. I know I can't prove it -"

"I believe you," the Hunter cut her off.

"Then you know I'm capable of better."

She shook her head. "It doesn't mean anything."

"I spared her life!" Margaret protested.

"You let one of them go, but that's nothing new," the Hunter shrugged. "Every now and then, a little victim's spared because she smiled, because he's got freckles, because they begged. And that's how you live with yourself. That's how you slaughter millions. Because once in a while, on a whim, if the wind's in the right direction, you happen to be kind."

"Only a killer would know that," Margaret accused, making the Hunter roll her eyes. "Is that right? From what I've seen, your funny little happy go lucky life leaves devastation in its wake. Always moving on because you dare not look back. Playing with so many people's lives, you might as well be a god. And you're right, Hunter. You're absolutely right. Sometimes you let one go. Let me go," she pleaded.

***

"I'm not asking you to leave her, because I know that's not fair," Mike said. "But I just need something, yeah? Some sort of promise that when you do come back, you're coming back for me."

There was a deep rumble in the distance, and Hazel looked up, frowning. "Is that thunder?"

"Does it matter?" Mike huffed, exasperated.

"That's not thunder," Hazel realised, hearing it again.

***

"In the family Slitheen, we had no choice," Margaret explained. "I was made to carry out my first kill at thirteen. If I'd refused, my father would have fed me to the Venom Grubs. If I'm a killer, it's because I was born to kill. It's all I know." She huffed impatiently as the Hunter looked around, frowning.

"Can you hear that?"

"I'm begging for my life, you could at least pretend to listen," Margaret complained.

"No, listen, shush," the Hunter muttered, pointing to her empty wine glass, which was vibrating. Suddenly the windows shattered, and the customers started screaming.

***

People outside ran cover as windows and street lights exploded. Hazel made a decision, running towards Roald Dahl Plass.

"Oh go on then, run! It's her again, isn't it? It's the Hunter! It's always the Hunter! It's always going to be the Hunter! It's never me!" Mike shouted bitterly.

Hazel turned on him. "Yeah, because she and Jack, they're more my family than you ever were. You call me when you've decided you're going to accept us." Then she turned her back on him and ran for the TARDIS.

***

Margaret wheezed as they ran across Roald Dahl Plass, tugging on the Hunter's arm. "The handcuffs!"

She rolled her eyes and took them off, depositing them in her back pocket. "Don't think you're running away."

"Oh, I'm sticking with you," Margaret assured her. "Some date this turned out to be!"

The Hunter's eyes widened when she saw the blue energy streaming up from the TARDIS into the sky. "It's the rift. The rift's opening." She ran in, Margaret close on her heels. "What's happening?" she demanded, seeing things sparking and almost exploding on the console.

"She just went crazy!" Jack called from under the grating, poking his head up from where he was working.

"It's the rift," she told him, trying to stop the explosions from the console. "Time and space are ripping apart. The whole city's going to disappear!"

"It's the extrapolator!" Jack exclaimed, climbing up to her level. "I've disconnected it, but it's still feeding off the engine. It's using the TARDIS. I can't stop it!"

"Never mind Cardiff," the Hunter bit her lip, her eyes wide. "It's going to rip open the planet!"

"What is it?" Hazel questioned as she ran in. "What's happening?"

"Oh, just little me," Margaret smirked, ripping the arm of her suit so she could grab Hazel around the neck with one of her talons. "One wrong move and she snaps like a promise."

The Hunter scowled. "I might've known."

"I've had you bleating all night, poor baby, now shut it," Margaret snapped. "You, fly boy, put the extrapolator at my feet." She tightened her grip on Hazel's neck, making the girl gasp. The Hunter nodded, her eyes on Hazel, and Jack did as ordered. "Thank you. Just as I planned."

"I thought you needed to blow up the nuclear power station," Hazel croaked.

"Failing that, if I were to be arrested, then anyone capable of tracking me down would have considerable technology of their own. Therefore, they would be captivated by the extrapolator. Especially a magpie mind like yours, Hunter," Margaret smirked. "So, the extrapolator was programmed to go to plan B, to lock onto the nearest alien power source and open the rift. And what a power source it found. I'm back on schedule, thanks to you."

"The rift's going to convulse," Jack realised. "You'll destroy the whole planet."

"And you with it!" Margaret cackled, stepping onto the extrapolator. "While I ride this board over the crest of the inferno all the way to freedom. Stand back. Surf's up."

The TARDIS console cracked open, and a bright light hit Margaret and Hazel, making the girl screw her eyes tightly shut.

"Of course, opening the rift means you'll pull this ship apart," the Hunter pointed out, leaning against one of the coral structures.

"So sue me," Margaret snapped.

"She's not just any old power source. She's the TARDIS. My TARDIS. The best ship in the universe," the Hunter said proudly.

"It'll make wonderful scrap."

"What's that light?" Hazel asked, wincing.

"The heart of the TARDIS," the Hunter replied. "This ship's alive. You've opened her soul. And she really has got a soft spot for our Hazel."

"It's so bright," Margaret whispered.

"Look at it, Margaret," the Hunter encouraged.

"Beautiful..."

"Look inside, Blon Fel Fotch. Look at the light."

Margaret relaxed, allowing Hazel to get free, rushing to Jack's side. "Thank you," Margaret smiled, then disappeared into the light, her bodysuit crumpling atop the extrapolator.

The Hunter moved immediately. "Don't look. Stay there. Close your eyes!" She closed the console up. "Now, Jack, come on, shut it all down. Shut down! Haze, that panel over there, turn all the switches to the right." The turbulence and the sparks stopped as the TARDIS settled, and she sighed in relief. "Nicely done. Thanks."

"What happened to Margaret?" Hazel wondered.

"Must've got burnt up," Jack guessed. "Carried out her own death sentence."

"No, I don't think she's dead," the Hunter shook her head.

Hazel frowned, rubbing her neck and wincing. "Then where'd she go?"

"She looked into the heart of the TARDIS. Even I don't know how strong that is. And the ship's telepathic, like I told you, Haze." The Hunter glanced over at her, flashing a smile. "Gets inside your head. Translates alien languages. Maybe the raw energy can translate all sorts of thoughts." She knelt by the skin suit and pulled out a large egg with dreadlocks. "Here she is."

"She's an egg?" Hazel frowned.

"Regressed to her childhood," the Hunter nodded.

"She's an egg?" Jack echoed.

"She can start again," the Hunter pointed out. "Live her life from scratch. If we take her home, give her to a different family, tell them to bring her up properly, she might be all right!"

"Or she might be worse," Jack suggested.

"That's her choice, Mr Pessimism."

"She's an egg," Hazel repeated.

"She's an egg," the Hunter agreed, smiling.

"Oh my God, Mike!" Hazel realised, getting to her feet and sprinting out the door.

***

The Hunter and Jack shared a look when she returned not five minutes later, looking dejected. "We're all powered up," the Hunter told her, making her look up. "We can leave. Opening the rift filled us up with energy. We can go, if that's all right."

"Yeah, fine," she nodded.

"How's Mike?" the Hunter asked carefully.

"He's okay. He's gone," Hazel muttered.

"Do you want to go and find him?" the Hunter offered. "We'll wait."

Hazel took a deep breath, then smiled, shaking her head. "No need."

"Off we go, then. Always moving on."

"Next stop, Raxacoricofallapatorius," Jack smiled, then nudged Hazel. "Now you don't often get to say that."

"We'll just stop by and pop her in the hatchery," the Hunter said, setting about flying them there. "Margaret the Slitheen can live her life again. A second chance."

Hazel smiled sadly, gripping the railings as they set off. "That'd be nice."

~~~

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