#also still just can’t get over him and Donna as a couple

[whalehouse1]

Me hearing about the new Titans tie-in event that will once again stretch across the DC universe: -_- whoopie.

Me hearing Garth is in a tie-in: Alright, there’s a 99.99999% chance I’ll hate it and want to scream, but Garth. There’s a chance he’ll be written and drawn right.

[quiet-onset]

fever pitch

pairing: michael berzatto x reader

wc: 12.1k+, somebody sedate me

summary: an assortment of your time with michael berzatto

warnings: no use of yn, smut, so minors dni!!!, unprotected sex, sex under the influence, by ext. dubcon since reader is unaware at the time, oral (f receiving), drug use and addiction (character and reader), canonical character death/suicide mention, pregnancy mention (sorry not sorry), please do not read if any of this is triggering for you!!

a/n: beta’d by @brattylyricist bc she has no other choice than to put up with my bs!! also bc the content matter here is triggering and i have personal experience seeing the damage that addiction can do to someone you love, I’m including national hotline phone numbers here. please don’t be afraid to seek help if you need it: national suicide prevention hotline: dial/text 988, substance abuse and mental health services administration: 1-800-662-HELP. again, please do not read this if any of the warnings are triggering for you!!!

The day went by in a blur. You got up, showered, did your hair and makeup. You ate the little breakfast you could stomach. You put on an acceptable black dress and matching high heels.

You drove to the church — tried to sit in the back, but Sugar pulled you to the front pew, right next to her. You stood behind the lectern and said kind, loving words. You drove to the cemetery and watched as his casket was lowered into the cold. And you went to the repass, doing your best to stay out of Donna’s way, knowing how she gets when she’s both sad and under pressure. 

But you hadn’t cried.

You sat on the stairs with your wine glass filled with water as everyone mingled, exchanging condolences about your dearly departed. You let your heart ache as you downed the glass, stories of him being told by this person and that.

But you still hadn’t cried.

Donna burst out of the kitchen, her hair a bit disheveled and eyes red from crying. “Have you seen Carmy?”

You couldn’t help but let out a sigh. It must have been the seventh time she had asked. “No, Donna, I have not seen Carmy.”

“What a fuckin’ help you are.” She snapped, pulling a box of cigarettes from her apron. With her other hand, she snatched your empty wine glass and turned on her heel. “I do all this work, and I can’t even go outside to smoke.”

You followed close behind, huffing as you stood. “I thought Sugar was with you.”

“Sugar is with her.” The middle child interrupted. She gave you a weak, empathetic smile when you entered the kitchen behind Donna. A wine glass of her own in hand as she sat on the kitchen counter, she sipped on red wine. “But Sugar can’t cook.”

“Not like Carmy, you can’t. Get your ass off my fuckin’ counter, shoo!” Donna swatted at her daughter’s thigh until she hopped off the counter, snatching her half full wine glass as well. She downed the wine in a couple seconds, and you and Sugar shot each other a look. It was passing, but you both understood the meaning — Donna needed a break.

“She doesn’t have to cook, Donna. Just watch everything. Keep an eye on it, y’know?” You tried to intervene but she was having none of it.

“I don’t need an eye. I need hands! I need someone who can cook!” Donna threw the glasses into the sink, and you flinched when they shattered against the metal. “Fuck!”

“I’ll do it, Donna.” From the shakiness in her hands, you know she’s so close to losing it. To taking everything in the kitchen and throwing it on the ground, at the wall, at whoever she deemed worthy of having something thrown at them. “I know I’m not Carmy, but I’m better than Sug.”

“Hey!” Sugar sounded defensive, but you and Donna barely paid her any mind.

“You can’t fuckin’ cook, Sugar, get over it.” Her mother snapped. “I’d normally have Mikey do it, but he—”

“Ma.” You gently placed your hands on Donna’s shoulders, and a bit of the tension fell from them. You hadn’t called her that in a long time — it no longer felt right — but doing so made her recall happier times. You looked her in the eye, reassured her. “You go outside and smoke. I’ll take over for a few minutes, okay?”

Her eye twitched ever so slightly, and she was still shaking, but you could tell it grounded her a bit. “If everything else goes to shit, make sure the fish is good, alright?”

“Save the fish. Got it.”

Donna nodded, pulling a cigarette out of the box. Then she finally walked toward the exit of  the kitchen, twirling it in her hand. Just before she left, she glanced at you again, her voice shaky. “You.. you would’ve been good for him. If he’d let you.”

When Donna left, there were tears in your eyes. Sugar watched to see if you’d need comfort, especially after one of those tears fell from your eye. But you were quick to wipe it away, taking a deep, shuddering breath. You turned to Sugar, gesturing toward the sink filled with broken glass. “Could you…?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” She was quick to do so, grabbing a paper bag to put shards in. You both worked in a comfortable silence. The only sound was the clinking of glass against each other. Sugar battled over whether she wanted to speak, but she figured if she needed kind words, then you definitely did. “Ma’s right, y’know. Michael lo—”

“Sug. Please.”

“Okay.”

There was a pause as you stirred a pot of stew, then you sighed. “I know he did. As much as he could anyway.”

—

Michael met you on a sober streak. He’d been clean for three weeks, the longest stint thus far. When Richie found out about his addiction, he dragged Michael to Narcotics Anonymous. You’re gonna die cooking at the restaurant or doing something cool, not fuckin’ OD, Richie had sneered in the car.

He sat in a chair, his arms crossed over his chest, grumbling like a child. Despite being sober for three weeks, he maintained that he didn’t need to come to these meetings. To Michael, this was just proof that he could quit whenever he wanted to. Regardless, Richie drove him to every meeting and planned to do so until he seemed ready to go on his own.

The host of the meeting, Brayden, greeted Michael with a kind smile, but he responded with a grunt. For three weeks, Michael sat silently in that circle and said absolutely nothing. He wondered what it took to get the man to speak, but of course, he’d never pressure anyone to share before they were ready.

Then you walked in. You seemed a bit more put together than others in the room, but still a bit shy. An oversized sweater wrapped around your frame, and you pulled it even closer, eyes glancing around the room. You nodded a greeting to Brayden before sitting in the circle across from Michael. When you noticed him glancing your way, you offered a friendly smile, and he returned it.

He knew then that he’d return to his weekly NA meetings.

The session started shortly after, but Michael was only half listening. He was mostly glancing back and forth from whoever was speaking to you. He liked the way you gave your full attention to every person who spoke, even when they said things you didn’t agree with — he could tell when you didn’t, a little crease would form for the briefest moment between your brows. But it always disappeared, and your attentive expression returned. 

“Alright, would anyone else like to speak? Someone new maybe?” Brayden asked, quickly glancing at Michael.

He’d never admit it, but his heart was pounding at the idea of airing out his dirty laundry to a group of strangers. He took a deep, nervous breath, but then another voice spoke up.

“I’ll go.” You said, watching the relief wash over Michael’s face. You cleared your throat, pulling your sweater closer as you introduced yourself. “I was in a car accident two years ago. It, uh, it killed my son… That plus divorce plus prescribed oxy apparently equals addiction.”

The slightly playful lilt in your tone made Michael chuckle quietly, though you both knew nothing was funny. Your eyes met his, and for a moment, your heart skipped a beat. Still, you continued, “I’ve been sober for two months, but my son’s birthday is coming up in a few months, so I, uh, needed a meeting. But yeah, that’s my story.”

After the meeting, you stood by the snack table, nursing a cup of coffee. Michael approached cautiously as he poured his own coffee. “Can I ask what his name was?”

You looked up from your paper cup into warm brown eyes. “Sorry?”

“Your son?”

“Oh.” You paused, and your heart sank at the reminder that your baby was gone. “His name was Benson.”

He snorted into his coffee cup, trying to hide his quiet laugh by clearing his throat. You noticed the light in his eyes, and it inexplicably made a smile pull at your lips too. “Sorry.” He said. “Benson’s a great name.”

“It’s a dorky name. Dorky first name, anyways. It’s what his father wanted.” You confirmed with a chuckle. “But it was my son’s name. So I liked it.”

“Course.” He smiled at you kindly. He was charming, and you liked it. “I’m Michael, by the way.”

You gave him your name and shook his hand. You went against your better judgment and invited him to your place. You both spent all night wrapped in your sheets, in each other’s embrace. He left for work the next morning but not before getting your phone number. 

You texted Michael and arranged to meet up again that night. Then, you called your sponsor. 

That was the beginning of the end.

—

“Cousin, your girlfriend’s here!”

“Not his girlfriend, Richie.”

“Not yet.”

“Send her back!” Michael’s voice floated in from the back of the kitchen.

You sidestepped Richie and walked through the kitchen, saying your hellos to everyone. “Where’s he at?” You asked.

“The office.” Tina answered, lightly nudging you in his direction. “He’s not having the best day.”

You nodded your understanding and proceeded to the small office where Michael was leaning back in his chair, hand over his face as he spoke into his cell phone. “No, I just don’t understand why we keep talking about the same shit.”

You leaned against the doorframe, giving him a small smile. He gave you the tiniest acknowledgment, a small wave, before spinning around in the chair to face the wall. You scoffed jokingly, closing the door behind you, “Well, fuck me, I guess.”

“Carmy, you’re a big shot in some fancy, five-star, European restaurant, what the fuck do you wanna be here for?” He asked exasperatedly. There’s a short pause, mumbling from the other side of the phone before Mikey throws a hand in the air. “Five star, three star, who gives a shit? Look, Carmen, you’re doing big things, good things. Stay in Europe. I gotta go.”

When Michael hung up, a long, tired sigh racked his body. “This would be a perfect time for—”

“One month.” You interrupted. You knew all too well where his mind was headed. He was spiraling into that dark, secluded state of mind you’d found him in just a few weeks after you met. He’d relapsed after a particularly hard day at the restaurant, something about finances and paying back a loan that he refused to tell you more about. But you’d helped him then. Picked him up, dusted him off, and called his sponsor — Started him back on the path of sobriety again. If you could help it, he’d never reach that lonely place again. 

“One month.” He repeated to himself. Then, he spun around. “Hey.”

“Hey.” You walked over to him, standing between his spread legs. He immediately rested his forehead on your belly, groaning when you carded a hand through his hair. Your other hand rubbed circles into his back, the tense muscles a sharp contrast to his soft black locks. “I take it that was your brother?”

He grunted affirmatively. “Keeps askin’ to work here.”

“At The Beef?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, isn’t he a professional chef? Why don’t you let him?”

“C’mon, sweetheart, you’re supposed to be on my side.” He grumbled, pulling you down to sit on his thigh. 

“I am on your side.” You chuckled. You took your thumb and rubbed gently at the spot between his eyes until the frustrated crease disappeared. “‘M just saying, he’s a trained chef, this is a restaurant. I don’t get what’s not adding up for you, baby.”

Michael sighed, looking up at you. He brushed a stray hair from your face and smiled up at you. You smiled back encouragingly, patiently waiting until he found the right words. “Carm doesn’t know.” He admitted.

“Carm doesn’t know…?”

“About the painkillers. And I don’t know if I’m ready to tell him.” His brow furrowed once more, making you frown. “I mean, he’s got three Michelin stars. The kid’s a fuckin’ genius in the kitchen — he doesn’t need to be around all this shit, all my shit.”

You let his words sink in, deep in thought as you stroked his hair. Your bottom lip caught between your teeth, you thought about all the stories Mikey and Richie told you about the youngest Berzatto. How he could be quiet and unassuming, but, with a little encouragement, always came out of his shell around family and friends. Maybe, for Carmen, it wasn’t about the restaurant.

“Maybe he just wants to see you.” You said pensively. “I mean it’s been how long since he’s been home?”

A scoff passed Michael’s lips. “A long fuckin’ time.”

“Maybe the restaurant is a pretense. I mean, he would come work at The Beef and stuff, but maybe he just wants to see you again. Hang out with his big brother like he used to.”

His thumb stroked your thigh as he looked at you, silently admired the way you seem to come in and make all his problems melt away with a single thought, a word, a smile. “What about the whole bein’ an addict part?” He asked.

“You don’t have to tell him right away.” You suggested. “Baby steps.”

“You are too fuckin’ good to me, y’know that?” He grinned back at you. When you rolled your eyes playfully, he pinched your side, making you jolt and laugh. 

You pulled his arm around your waist, settling your hands at the nape of his neck. “So, you’re letting your brother work at the restaurant?”

“How ‘bout we just start with a visit, hm? I’ll tell him to come home for a week or somethin’, stay at mine.” He compromised. “Baby steps.”

“Oh, I’m so proud of you.” You cooed playfully, pinching his stubbly cheeks. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He swatted your hands away, leaning forward to press wet kisses to the column of your neck. He smirked as you suddenly ceased your pinching, bracing your hands on his shoulders. “You should let me return the favor, sweetheart.”

“Not in your office!” You gasped when he bit down on the juncture between your neck and shoulder before soothing it with his tongue. 

“Why not?” He chuckled, lifting you onto his desk. He probably should have been a little more worried about his records and papers getting folded under the swell of your ass, but all he could focus on was the small strip of fabric covering the part of you he wanted to devour. “Wouldn’t you prefer I be addicted to my girl than painkillers?”

“That’s not, ah,” You jolted above him, the sensation of his thumb pressing into your sensitive clit knocking you back to your elbows, “That’s not funny, Mikey.”

“What’s Brayden say?” He muttered, pulling your panties to the side. His fingers expertly tugs your lips apart, and he pressed a soft teasing kiss to your hood-covered button. “Humor’s my coping mechanic.”

“M-mechanism.” The correction came out in a soft moan. Just then, his words hit you — his girl. He’d never said that before. All the times you’d kissed, made out, had sex, he’d never called you his girl. You liked the way it sounded, the way it rolled off his tongue effortlessly. “Your girl?”

“Yeah.” He pulled away, his hands finding your calves as he looked at you. His brown irises held the tiniest bit of vulnerability in them, an emotion reserved for you and you only. “I mean, if you wanna be. Do you?”

You smiled and encircled his wrists, tenderly stroking his skin with your thumbs. It was a simple touch, but it made the hairs on his arm stand at attention. Strange how you always managed to do that. “Of course I do.”

“Good.” He exhaled. His large hands slid up your inner thighs, pausing at your core. With a gentle touch, he tugged your folds apart, watching the way your entrance fluttered. His mouth dropped open, and he let his saliva drip down onto your pussy, rubbing it into your clit with the pad of his thumb. “Now, get comfy, sweetheart, ‘cause I missed this pretty little pussy.”

—

“Where is it? Where is it? Where the fuck is it?”

You’d torn your apartment apart. Old storage boxes that gathered dust were now open and emptied. Your clothes were thrown all over the place. You managed to push the couch and check the floor, but you found nothing but crumbs and linty hair ties. 

Tears started to blur your vision, and your chest felt heavy, like the entire world sat directly on your lungs. Your breath was just as shaky as your hands that tugged at the roots of your hair. You ran to your mess of a kitchen and scrambled for your phone, typing the familiar number from memory.

Your ex-husband answered on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Where’s Eli?” You heard him call your name, but his confusion was the last thing on your mind. “Benson’s stuffed cow, Eli. Where is it? I can’t find it.”

He sighed, his voice lower and more scratchy than you remembered. He must’ve been crying, too, you thought. “How am I supposed to know?”

“You helped me move out. Did you take it? I swear to god—”

“I didn’t take the damn cow.” He snapped. “Do you think I’m that selfish that I would keep it from you?”

“I didn’t call to rehash our marriage, alright? I need Eli, okay? I need him.”

The line went silent. You both knew you weren’t talking about the stuffed animal anymore. He let out a deep breath. “Have you tried therapy?”

“I don’t need to pay a bunch of money to have someone tell me I need to get over the death of our child.” You hissed, scrunching your nose at the suggestion. 

“Have you been to his grave?”

You wiped your tears away, thinking about the cold, unfeeling stone that solidified your son’s death. You hadn’t seen it since the funeral. You took a shaky breath, “Do you have Eli or not?”

“I don’t.”

He tried to speak once more, but you already hung up. You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe without this one piece of your son. Tears dropped onto your phone screen as you scrolled and scrolled through your contacts, finding the name you were looking for. The line rang three times before a deep voice greeted you. “What’s up?”

“I need to see you. Where can we meet?”

Hours later, Michael was walking toward his apartment building with Carmy. He’d been purposefully avoiding bringing up The Beef, and luckily Carmy didn’t push. Instead, his little brother decided to bring up the little stuffed animal that Michael had pushed into his jacket pocket. “So,” Carmy started quietly, “You startin’ a collection with that thing or…?”

“Shut the fuck up.” Michael laughed. He pulled the stuffed cow out of his pocket. “It’s my girl’s. Remember I told you about her son?”

“Yeah.”

“Sometimes she likes to talk to me about him. She brought this over to my place a few weeks ago to show me. Apparently, the kid was obsessed with cows.”

“No shit. Look at you, bein’ vulnerable.” Carmy chuckled in amazement, admiring his brother’s new relationship.

“Yeah, whatever. The, uh, anniversary of his death is coming up, and she’ll probably be wanting this, so you can meet her while you’re here if she’s feeling up to it. Sound good?”

“‘F course.”

When Michael unlocked the front door, he was met with chaos. The front door banged into the coat closet door, somehow left open with coats strewn across the floor. The rug in his living room was flipped over, and the couch was now far from the wall. Michael was only brought back to reality by the stunned woah that passed through Carmy’s lips.

Somehow, Michael knew. He wasn’t a mind reader, but he remembered that feeling. A feeling that bubbled in the pit of his stomach, traveling throughout his body until it pounded at his head. It was dread, hopelessness, not knowing how he’d find the strength to take another breath. He knew, and he needed to help you.

“Di-Did someone break into your house or something?” Carmy asked, closing the door behind him.

“Just stay here for a second, little brother, okay?” Michael’s voice was dismissive, preoccupied, as he followed the trail of despair into the kitchen.

And there you sat. Red eyes, swollen from crying. Head lulling from side to side and your heart almost numb enough to keep the darkness from creeping in and making a home, uninvited,  in the hole of your chest. Your arms circled around your knees that you’d drawn up to your chest, hugging them close. Maybe, if you squeezed hard enough, you could stop grieving and move on.

Michael approached slowly, like you were a wounded animal. “Baby?”

“I couldn’t stop myself.”

“We don’t have to—”

“Please don’t hate me.”

He crouched down in front of you, steadied your head with a firm hand on your cheek. His warm, calloused skin helped to ground the thoughts in your fuzzy head. He looked you in the eyes, bold and sincere, just as you had when he relapsed. “I could never hate you. Never, you hear me?”

You paused for a moment before trying to explain. “I couldn’t find Eli, and I just- I started going fucking crazy—”

“Eli?” He asked, pulling the stuffed cow from his pocket. “Sweetheart, I have Eli. You left him the time you came over a couple weeks ago, and I was gonna take him back to yours.”

Michael thought the knowledge would console you, warm your heart enough to give him just the tiniest hint of a smile. But you just threw your head back frustratedly, the impact against the wall causing a dull pain to crash through the back of your skull. “Fuck.”

“Baby, why—”

“I’m so stupid.”

“You’re no—”

Tears gathered once more. “If I had just called you… I’m an idiot.”

“Hey,” He regained your attention, this time with both hands holding your face steady. “You’re not stupid. You’re not an idiot. You just made a mistake, ‘s all.”

“I fucking relapsed, Michael.”

“I’ve relapsed, and look at me, huh? Picture of a healthy, law-abiding citizen.”

“Michael.”

“You’ll start over. Just like I did. Here, give me your phone.” You dug around in your pocket and pulled out your phone, handing it to him. He turned the screen toward you so you could watch as he scrolled through your contacts until he found your dealer’s name. Then, with zero hesitation, he blocked the number. “See? Good as new, yeah?”

If tears could show your appreciation, you’d have cried an ocean’s worth. But the most you could do was throw your heavy arms around his shoulders and press a chaste kiss to the base of his neck. To you, nothing you could ever do or say would be enough, but to Mikey? If he could take your burdens and make them his own, carry the weight of your world on his back, he’d do it without a second thought. Your appreciation wasn’t needed — only your love. And he knew he had that.

“Uh, Mikey?” Carmen’s voice called from the living room. “What the fuck is this?”

Michael reluctantly untangled himself from you for a moment, signaling for you to stay quiet. But you knew what was in there — you’d left the needle on his coffee table. Immediately, you could hear Mikey try to calm his brother down. “Carmen, it’s not what you think.”

“You sure? ‘Cause that looks like a fuckin’ needle. Jesus Christ, are you—”

“I’m not high, Carm, just listen for a second.”

“Listen to what?” His voice got louder, more angry. “Michael, are you fuckin’ serious? You know this family has… issues and this is what you do? Fucking shit!”

“Hey, relax, alright? You’re making a big deal out of nothin’.”

“Nothing? If you’re getting high, it is a big deal. A huge fuckin’ deal.” Carm pushed his brother on the chest, hoping it’ll knock some sense into him. And Michael, he just curled his fists, restraining himself. The last thing he wanted was to lose control on his own brother. Carmen took a step toward, pointing one accusatory finger.

But before he could get a word out, a small voice, your voice, stopped him. “It’s not his.”

Icy blue eyes met yours as he took in your disheveled frame. You stood in the entrance of the living room, leaning against the threshold to hold yourself up. The high was starting to wear off a little, but you still felt the lingering effects. You tried to give him a smile, but a weary sigh passed through your lips. “Hi Carmen. I’m sorry, this isn’t how I wanted to meet you.”

Carmen looked back and forth from you to Michael. His eyes narrowed as his breath started to even out, confusion replacing anger. “You’re the girlfriend, yeah?” He finally asked, confirming your name.

You nodded, gauging his reaction as he let it all sink in. “I had been sober for a while, so I asked your brother not to say anything. But today was- today was hard.”

“Right,” The younger brother nodded, finally taking a step back and pushing his hands deep into his pockets. “Uh, sorry for your loss, by the way.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“So, Michael isn’t… he’s not using…?” He knew the words, knew the question he wanted to ask. But he was so afraid, so terrified of what the answer might be.

You knew the answer. It would have been less than savory, admitting that Michael was also an addict and had relapsed more than once since you met. The truth was potentially earth-shattering for Carmen and Michael alike. You glanced over at Michael, at how he hid the fear from his eyes. Still, you see it. In the way his hand flexed at his side, and how he refused to look in your direction. It’s almost like he knew what was coming if you told the truth, that he might have lost his brother for good. 

That fear broke your heart. So, you lied. Took your blame and a little on the side. “No. No, just me.”

You excused yourself back to the kitchen to hide your tears. You hugged Eli close, burying the stuffed animal under your nose.

It smelled like Michael.

—

That fucking fork. 

Fuck forks. Fuck Christmas dinner. Fuck all seven fishes. Fuck Pete’s eighth fish. And, above all, fuck Michael.

Chaos ensued after Michael gave in to his self-destructive tendencies. He all but flipped the table over in an effort to fight. Fak was making sure Sugar and Pete got out unscathed. Carmy practically begged his mother to stay out of it, and she only relented when her eldest son started making taunting braying noises — she retreated to the kitchen with a cigarette and the bottle of merlot in hand.

You gave up trying to help Michael calm down when he wretched himself from your grip, nearly knocking you into a wall in the process. Richie rushed over to help steady you, and Carmy, over all the chaos, called your name, “Yo, are you alright?”

“Peachy.” You called back sarcastically, rubbing your sore arm.

Carmen then turned his attention to his brother. “Michael, shut the fuck up for two seconds, for fuck’s sake! If you don’t calm down, you’re gonna hurt someone!”

“Kinda the point, little brother.” Michael’s eye twitched as he glared at Lee. He tried once more to push past Jimmy to no avail.

“Yeah? Was hurting your girl part of the point, smartass?”

Michael turned to you, the anger in his eyes slowly overtaken with concern. He hadn’t meant to push you; he didn’t even know you were one of the people trying to hold him back. But that didn’t take back his actions. Your gaze went cold as you pulled away from Richie, pushing Michael hard on the chest. “I’m not his fucking girl anymore.”

Then, you hightailed it out of the house. Everyone went silent as you peeled out of the driveway, rubber squealing against pavement.

Richie watched Michael carefully, noticing how his brow furrowed and his chest heaved. He took a step toward him and dropped a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Mikey,” Richie warned, “Don’t do anything stupid.” Michael pulled away and stomped his way up the stairs, leaving Richie to call after his best friend from the dining room. 

Over Richie’s voice, Carmen could hear his mother sobbing in the kitchen followed by the soft glug of wine as she turned the bottle up. And immediately, he followed after his older brother. Richie tried to stop him, “Cousin, he just needs a minute.”

“Yeah, just a minute?” Carmen replied dismissively. “Fuck off, cousin, he’s not a baby.”

He pushed open every door looking for Mikey. Finally, he came upon one door that wouldn’t budge, locked from the inside. Carmy pounded on the bathroom door. “Yo, what the fuck was that?”

“Go away, Carmen.” Mikey paced the bathroom floor, hands pulling at the roots of his hair. He wished he had an answer for his brother, but he came up short. Maybe it was pride, or ego, or his innate tendency to self-destruct, he couldn’t choose. So he just paced the floor, avoiding the sight of his own reflection.

“Mikey, you need to go downstairs and fix this shit, alright?” Carmy continued. “Ma’s drinking herself stupid, Sug’s a mess, your girl just fuckin’ left, c’mon man.”

“Hey, you think I don’t know that?” The older brother hissed.

He braced himself on the sink, finally looking up into the mirror. He looked disheveled, angry. His hair was messy from pulling at it, and the whites of his eyes had a red tint to them. One prominent vein pulsed in his forehead, and suddenly, the need set in. 

His head is fuzzy, brain pounding at his skull. So many thoughts, too many, clouding his head. He lifted his hand to push away a few strands of his hair, limp with sweat, and he realized that his hand was shaking. Even as he closed his fingers into a fist, it trembled like an earthquake. He blinked hard, eyes scrambling as he tried to think of a quick solution, a way to gather himself before he faced his little brother again.

Carmy was quiet as he started to think maybe he should have listened to Richie. “Mikey?”

No answer.

“Mikey, look, I’m sorry—”

The door flung open, and Carmy studied him. His hair was pushed back. His eyes were red, but Carmy assumed Mikey must’ve been crying. Everything seemed right, but there was something he couldn’t place. Something about his big brother that was very wrong. “Nothing to be sorry for, Carm.” Michael told him, one big hand on his shoulder. “I gotta go.”

When Michael started booking it downstairs, Carmy was quick on his trail. “Wait, go? Go where?”

Michael responded with a call of your name, “Gotta make sure she’s good.”

Carmy ran a hand through his golden brown locks as he followed his older brother out the front door. Their sister noticed the argument and followed them out the door, “Whoa, hey, what’s going on?”

“Nothing, Sug, go back inside.” Michael stopped for the briefest moment to turn around and place a kiss on his sister’s forehead.

“He’s leavin’.” Carmy sighed frustratedly.

“He’s leaving?” Sugar turned to Michael. “You’re leaving?”

“Fuckin’ snitch.” Michael mumbled under his breath. He squeezed Sug’s arm with a tight smile, “I’m just goin’ to find my girl, okay? I’ll be back, I promise.”

“How are you even going to find her?” Carm scoffed.

“You know her password, right?” Sug asked her eldest brother. “I wouldn’t normally say this, but you could track her phone. Here, give me yours.”

“What about Ma?” Carmy threw his arms up in defeat. Michael was the one who started all that mess, and now that it was time to pick up the pieces, where did he go? Chasing you. Like always, Carm thought to himself. “You’re the only one who can get through to her when she’s all…” He waved his hands around as if the devastating words he was looking for would magically appear.

“Well, you’re home, ain’t you? She missed you — just sit with her till I get back, alright? I gotta go.”

And just as quickly Mikey was off too, running toward the closest train station.

If there were ever a time for oxy, that would’ve been it. But instead, you drove and drove and drove until the tank was damn near empty. You pulled into a parking lot and called your sponsor. She talked you down, persuading you to delete your dealer’s contact information in your phone. When the long conversation was over, you were still angry, furious even, but you’d at least lost interest in relapsing.

Knock knock knock.

You jumped in the driver’s seat when calloused knuckles tapped on the car window. Michael wasted no time in starting an argument. “What the hell were you thinkin’, leavin’ like that?” He yelled, voice only slightly muffled by the barrier.

“How did you even find me?”

“Sugar showed me how to track your phone.”

“You tracked my phone?”

“Open the fuckin’ door.”

You pushed the door open and got out of the car, deciding your best course of action would be to walk away from him. “Leave me alone, Michael.”

“Where are you goin’?” He was quick to follow you as you walked down the street, just a few strides behind.

“Leave me alone.”

“What’s the plan here, huh?” He asked. “You just gonna keep walkin’ till your feet fall off?”

“No, just till I’m away from you, Michael.” You retorted coldly.

“Hey, stop calling me that.”

“That’s your name!”

“Not to you! To you it’s Mikey, or baby, or my love, not fuckin’ Michael!”

“Fuck you, Michael!” You caught him off guard when you spun around, poking your index finger into his chest. “You couldn’t just let it be. You had to ruin Christmas for the whole fucking family!”

“Why do you care so much, huh?”

“Why do I— Jesus, do you even hear yourself? You do nothing but ruin shit for yourself for no goddamn reason! No one forced you to throw that fork!”

Michael scoffed and ran his hand over his lips, his warm breath evaporating into the cold air as he raised his voice again. “So we’re gonna pretend that’s why you’re upset? Because of the fork?”

“I’m upset because you ruined any chance at having a good Christmas with our family!”

“They’re not our fuckin’ family.” He laughed, though no traces of humor could be found in his eyes. “They’re mine! Okay? I’m the fuckin’ Berzatto, not you.”

Your eyes widened at his words. You parted your lips to retort, but he just kept going, slicing your heart in two with expert precision.

“You wanna act like the- the chaos bothers you, but you thrive on that shit — You’re just in a shitty mood because you miss your own family, and now that you can’t replace them with mine, you want some fuckin’ oxy to ease the pain, ain’t that right?”

Smack!

You’d never hit Michael before, never wanted to. Like any couple, you had your share of fights and passive aggressive comments. One thing you two never did, though, was weaponize your addictions against each other. It was an unsaid invisible line that had never been crossed until now. Michael Berzatto, the man you loved more than life itself, had never been so mean. At least not to you. 

It happened faster than you expected, your small hand reaching up and slapping across his stubbly cheek. He just stood there, eyes dark and slightly angry, but you weren’t afraid. You were furious, hot tears filling your eyes. “Fuck you.”

You slapped him again. And again. Then, you beat on his chest with your fists. Michael started trying to swat your hands away, but when that proved ineffective, he caught your wrists in his hands, yanking you into a nearby alley, away from the night’s few prying eyes. 

“Stop, stop.” He grunted when you landed another smack to his head, finally pinning you up against the nearby brick wall by your wrists. “Stop.”

“I hate you.” You spat.

“No, you don’t.”

You continued to fight against his grip, but he was strong and steady, keeping you in place as you continued to tell him how much you despise him. He knew he was wrong, but he refused to say it. After all the shit that went down that night with his family, with you, he felt like he was going crazy. It was like he was abandoned in the middle of the ocean in a boat with a tiny hole. And even though the hole was small, it was so methodically cut that water was pouring in like a faucet, and the boat was sinking. So he grabbed onto the only lifeline he was certain would be there: you.

You, with the most beautiful eyes that were now filled with angry tears. You, the hero of all his dreams and the victim in all his nightmares. You, whose heart was so broken, so crumbled when he met you, yet still managed to love him with all your being.

He loved you. 

It all hit him at once, and he gently pressed his lips to yours. You turned your head away from him, rasping out your hatred once more. “I hate you.”

“You don’t.” His voice was deep and rough, but the tone was soft. Was he even talking to you?

“Yes, I fucking do.”

His lips trailed across your jawline, wet kisses placed on his path. “No, you don’t.”

You hated how easily he was able to do this to you, like pushing a button. You were supposed to be angry with him. You were angry with him. But your body didn’t care about the argument. Your body slowly gave up the fight against his grip, wanting the heat that his touch produced, your emotions be damned. A few tears fell from your eyes just as a soft moan slipped past your lips, an instinctive response to the way Michael’s body pressed yours against the wall, his growing length pressed into your hip. 

He slipped a leg between yours, pushing his denim-covered thigh into your pussy. You could feel a wave of arousal soaking your panties. “You’re mean, Michael.”

“I know, baby. I know.” He admitted quietly.

He used his grip on your wrists to gently pull your hands to your breasts. He pressed your hands in before covering them with his own, helping you knead the sensitive flesh. Even beneath your layers, you could feel his touch, and it made you whimper. His deft thumb ran over your hardening nipples, and a soft groan tumbled from his lips. “Just let me make you feel good.”

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you noted his acknowledgement. And his lack of apology.

He kept up his movements, moving your hands to squeeze your breasts, pressing his thigh into your weeping pussy. Somewhere along the way, your hips began to rock back and forth on him. His brown eyes never left yours, even as you cried. It was strange, how your heart hurt so badly that tears fell freely down your face, but your body was pushed closer and closer to the edge.

Still, you gasped for breath as the pleasure began to creep out of your core. “Mi- Mikey,” You moaned. “Please!”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere, baby. Let it all out.”

And it all came out at once, sobs pushing past your lips as euphoria crashed over your body in waves. You clenched around nothing, head tipping back to hit the brick wall. But you never felt the cold brick — one of Michael’s hands left your breast to cup the back of your head, the protective gesture juxtaposing the unending push of his thigh into your pussy to help ride out your orgasm.

Even as your orgasm faded away, your hips continued to buck against him. Your hands found a new home on his broad chest, trailing down, down, down until you felt the leather of his brown  belt. You wasted no time in unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his jeans, sliding the zipper down so you could easily reach into his briefs and pull his cock out. He moaned at your firm grasp, hips bucking into your touch.

Everything moved much quicker now, more desperate than before. You stroked his cock, spreading his precum along the shaft. His forehead pressed against yours as he stared at the way your smaller hand worked him over, twisting over the head on every downward stroke. “Fuck, that’s good.” He groaned.

“Help me.” You whined needily as you thrust your hips against his thigh once more, hoping he’d get the message.

He nodded quickly, kneeling down in front of you. His big hands slide up your thighs under your jean skirt, flipping the rough fabric up over your belly. Your legs were covered by sheer black stockings, a layer of protection from the cold winter chill. But neither of you could bear to wait, to take them off properly. He tore a large hole in the crotch and pushed your panties to the side, muttering curses at how your arousal shone in the moonlight. 

“Perfect fuckin’ cunt, sweetheart.” He pushed his index finger through your swollen lips, collecting your juices before slipping into your twitching hole. “Can you take two for me?”

He didn’t bother to wait for an answer. He pushed his middle finger in on the second thrust, curving them to press on that spongy spot on your upper wall that you can never reach yourself. You cried out his name, and your back arched off the wall. His fingers were bigger than yours, thicker too, but they still didn’t fill you the way that you needed.

You whimpered when he wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking firm and hard. “Want your cock, Mikey. Want- oh shit!”

Your orgasm was hard and unexpected, pulling you under before you could even tell him to fuck you. Your legs buckled, and you buried your hands in his thick, black hair to ground yourself. A muffled moan came from between your legs when you tugged on the roots, trying to pull him off your sensitive clit.

He finally relented, pulling away from you and pushing his fingers, soaked in you, into his mouth. He licked them clean without hesitation, only stopping when you tugged on his wrist. You pulled him in by his shirt, kissing him. It was deep and passionate, proving what you both knew to be true.

You didn’t hate him. Maybe you wanted to, but you didn’t. Or maybe couldn’t is the better word.

He cupped your face with both his large hands, wiping away any remnants of tears from your earlier sobs. His tongue licked into your mouth as you moaned, tasting the sweet tang of your juices in his saliva. You reached down to stroke his cock again, and he crowded you closer to the wall. “Want you inside.” You whispered.

“I know, baby.”

His open jeans impeded his efforts to get closer to you, buttons, zipper, and belt now in the way. His hands hurried to push the waistband of his open jeans down and out, ignoring how the frosty air raised goosebumps on his skin. His belt buckle jingled loudly, and something clattered to the pavement, but you could only focus on getting him inside you. His hands returned to your face, making you keep your gaze on his.

You pushed his cock through your pussy lips, let your arousal messily coat his shaft until it was all over your inner thighs. Both your panting was the only thing you could hear over the wet sounds of his length sliding between your swollen lips. You whined when the head of his dick bumped against your clit. 

“Guide me in, sweetheart.” He told you, eyes locked on yours. “Take what you want.”

His head, already weeping with precum, nudged at your entrance, and you canted your hips up until the first few inches sunk inside. You lifted your leg around his hip in an attempt to take more of him, but it wasn’t enough on your own. Finally, he pressed forward, fully sheathing his cock within your soft walls. All the while, Michael held your face between his hands, gazing deep into your eyes as you whimpered. “There you are.” He groaned softly. “My girl.”

Your heart twisted at his words. How could he even say that? After saying the most vile things to you, what made him believe that you’d still be his? He nudged his hips forward a bit, and the tip just barely kissed your cervix, shooting a strange blend of pain and pleasure up your spine. You shook your head, hands grasping at his arms to steady yourself. “No, I… I- fuck, Mikey, I hate you so much.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true.” You moaned pathetically, still seething, angry enough to lie through your teeth just to give him a glimpse of the pain he caused you. Your nails dug into the thick fabric of his coat as he began to move, thrusting in and out of your cunt. The alley practically echoed with squelching sounds, and anyone walking by would know what was going on in those shadows. But neither of you could bring yourselves to care, lips falling apart as your sensitive walls clamped down on his length.

“You don’t fuckin’ say that to me.” He repeated with a grunt, leaving the tiniest pat on your cheek to regain the attention of your eyes rolling in pleasure. “You love me. Know you do. ‘S — shit, you’re so tight — ‘s the only thing I’m goddamn sure of, you hear me?”

One hand left your cheek to wrap around your thigh, pulling your leg higher around his hip. He thrusted again with renewed strength before looking down to where you both connected. The sight made the pit of his stomach flip deliciously: the slightly tanned base of his cock coated with a creamy white ring, little strands of your wetness dangling between you both when he dared to pull his hips away. “Fuckin’ takin’ my dick so well, baby.” He bit his lip, his voice sounding almost entranced. “Squeezin’ like you don’t want me to leave.”

“Good thing I’m not goin’ anywhere.” He continued, groaning when your hands slid up his back and into his hair. You pulled hard, and his thrusts faltered ever so slightly. His other hand left your cheek to brace himself against the wall, and his head fell into the crook of your neck, puffs of his hot breath warming your skin.

“You can’t keep doing this shit, M-Mikey. Can’t take your shit out on me.” You mewled as he adjusted his grip on you, pushing you closer to the wall. He left you no space to squirm when his hips started to move faster, his cock bullying its way in and out of your soft, puffy folds to nudge against the spongy spot on your upper wall. You cried out as that unique sensation shot pleasure to every nerve ending in your body, “Fuck, right there!”

“I got you, sweetheart, that’s it.” He responded in kind, adjusting his stance just right so he could drag the notch of his cockhead along your G-spot with every thrust. “Right there, yeah?”

“Oh my god, don’t stop. You’re gonna make me come!”

Michael lifted his head from your neck, meeting your eyes again. They were dark, glazed over, as he slowed his hips, still moving but not enough to finish you off. You felt his cock twitch inside you, and he knew it wouldn’t be long until he flooded your insides with his release, but he wanted to hear you say it: he wanted you to take back your words. “Say you don’t mean it.”

Your pussy fluttered around him in tandem with the whine spilling past your lips. “Mikey—”

“You don’t hate me. You love me. Say it.” He punctuated each sentence with a nudge against your G-spot, soft and tempting.

“N-no, you,” You heaved out a shuddering breath when his fingertips met your swollen clit, rubbing in tight, slow, torturous circles. “You’re being unfair. You- oh my god, yes - you can’t be n-nasty to me and—” 

“Just say it for me, baby.” He mumbled against your lips. He was practically begging you to take it back, but, of course, Michael Berzatto would never stoop to such lengths. So, he kept rubbing your clit and nudging your G-spot, punching the breath out of you with his thick cock. “Promise I’ll make you come. I’ll make it so fuckin’ good for you. Just need to hear it.”

And, of course, as you always did, you gave in. “I didn’t mean it.” You admitted breathlessly. “I love you.”

The tension visibly rolled off his shoulders as his head dropped to your breasts, pounding your cunt as you moaned beneath him. “Fuck, I love you, too, baby. Love you so fuckin’ much, it hurts.” He groaned into your skin.

“Mikey, ‘m close!” You gasped, the assault on your cunt and clit too much to bear. 

“Wanna feel you squeeze my cock, sweetheart.” He huffed, nails digging into your thighs, your stockings providing no refuge from the dull pain. “Show me how much you love me, c’mon.”

And then, white-hot, earth-shattering pleasure. You nearly blacked out as you clenched around him, stars burning into supernovas behind your eyelids. Your fluttering walls begged him to stay buried deep inside you. Back arched against the wall, your breasts pushed closer to his face, and he didn’t bother lifting up, resting his cheek on the soft fabric that covered your warm flesh as he fell over the edge with you. He groaned out your name as he shot thick spurts of his warm, sticky come inside you. He knew he’d never come so much in his life, only lifting his head when he heard louder squelching noises from where you both connected. 

As he thrusted, slow and deep, the white creamy juices that once only circled the base of his cock dribbled out of your pussy, around the sides of his length. A bit slid down your thigh, and his eyes rolled back, reveling in how his balls pulsed with pleasure at the sight.

His whole body relaxed as you both rode out the waves of pleasure. As you came down from your orgasm, your head lolled to the side. Your eyes fluttered closed as you cherished his weight on top of you. When your eyes opened, your vision was still a tad blurry, but you blinked through the fog. 

There was something bright on the ground. It was small, cylindrical, and… red? No — it was orange.

“What’s that?”

Michael hummed in response, his speech a bit slurred. “What’s what?”

He lifted his head from your breasts, following your gaze. And he froze, eyes stuck on the tiny bottle of painkillers he’d swiped from his mother’s medicine cabinet after you left. It must have fallen from his pocket when he opened his jeans.

“Are you high right now?”

Michael almost cringed at your whisper. It was different from all your yelling and slapping and arguing before. You were just mad then, and he knew that he could win you over like he had a million times before. This time, it was sad. Cold. Disappointed. 

He wasn’t sure if he could come back from that.

You wriggled beneath him until you could push him away, watching him stumble a bit. He was no longer standing tall, a bit slouched, and he swayed aimlessly from side to side. With the way he was fucking you, his blood was pumping, so they must just now be kicking in at full force. You knew — you were certain of the answer, but you wanted to hear it from him.

“Michael. Are you high?”

He had just enough of his wits left to take a step toward you with remorse in his voice, “Baby, I—”

You held up a hand, taking a step away from him. “I… I’ll call Richie. You can stay with him tonight. Or your mother, I don’t….” He called your name again as you fixed your panties and pulled your skirt back down over your ass. “I can’t do this with you right now, Michael.”

You waited for a moment. For what, you weren’t sure. An apology? An explanation? An unremorseful tirade? Part of you would have even been okay with a fight.

But he just leaned against the brick wall, unable to support himself on his own any longer. He clumsily tucked his softening length back into his pants and mumbled his short reply, a correction. “‘S Mikey.”

Snow began to fall in time with your tears. You drew your coat closer, and turned your back to him. “I’m going home.”

—

“Besides work, how’ve you been feeling?”

“I don’t know, just extremely tired all the time. But what else is new, y’know?”

“And how’s your love life?”

“This is your way of asking if I’m still sleeping with Michael.”

“Well, are you?”

You let out a scoff as you adjusted your position on the couch. Your therapist, Deborah, watched you with knowing eyes as you sat against the arm of the couch, offhandedly pulling a throw pillow into your lap. Your index finger wrapped endlessly around the fringe as you carefully mulled over your words. “Well, I haven’t relapsed in almost a year and a half.”

“That’s good.” She smiled. “Also not what I asked.”

“Okay, I’m still seeing him. Or, sleeping with him.”

“So, it’s not a relationship?”

“No.”

“Do you want it to be?”

You paused. You thought about the possibilities of what could have been — of what once had been. Dates, family dinners, shared apartment. Maybe you’d have gotten married and had kids. You’d have brought them up to be better, to break the cycle of whatever crazy shit made you both the way you were. But you also had to accept who he was. 

You replied, “No.” It was a lie, and Deborah knew that, but you played it off anyway.

She leaned forward, setting her notepad down and resting her elbows on her knees. “Is he still using?”

You nodded reluctantly, “He says he’s not. And he hasn't been high around me since the, uh, Christmas dinner thing last year. But I’ve seen it… pill bottles lying around. Prescriptions that aren’t his.”

You trail off, once again running through what might have been. Would Michael still be sober if you stayed with him? Were you the only thing keeping him from losing his mind? Were you to blame? Your finger slowed around the fringe, heart aching in your chest. 

Deborah gave you a cautionary look, like she could read your mind. “Stop it.”

You sighed, “But what if—”

“Michael is a grown man. His sobriety is his responsibility, and his alone. Just like yours.” She repeated the same words that she did almost every session, reminding you that you were not at fault. “I know it hurts, and it’s okay to let it, but you cannot blame yourself for his decisions.”

“I just- I miss him. How he used to be. But if this is all I can get…” You feel pathetic for even admitting it, but it was the truth.

Deborah watched you carefully, knowing that there wasn’t much she could do but advise you. You were going to see Michael whether it was a good idea or not. So she figured you should know what you’re really getting into. She leaned back, crossing one leg over the other. “Do you know what codependency is?”

Your brow furrowed, “No, but I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

“It’s when two people depend on each other in an unhealthy way. Usually, one person learns to placate the other, keep them calm, while the other person continues unhealthy behaviors because they know their partner will be there to help them when it gets too bad.”

“Okay, I see where you’re going here. It’s not healthy for me—”

“It’s not healthy for either of you.” She clarified. “I know you love Michael. And I’m sure he loves you as much as he can. But I think the best way for you to help him and yourself — if that’s what you want to do — is to stop enabling him.”

Stop enabling him. 

That’s all you could think about for the rest of the session. Those three words terrified you. How would he react if you put your foot down, if you said this needed to stop? What if he never spoke to you again? You loved him, the man that put your heart back together when it was in a million shattered pieces. You were lost, unsure of how to handle the situation.

Twenty minutes later, when you left your therapist’s office, your phone dinged with a text. It was Michael, as usual;

u busy tonight? wanna see u. 

And of course, you gave in. But not without thinking up a plan. You took a deep breath and typed out your reply:

meet me in the parking lot off fourth street at 7:30. wanna take u somewhere.

And you tried to hold out, you really did. But no sooner than you arrived, Michael’s lips were on your neck, sucking and licking, making it hard to think. Before you could even remember Deborah’s warning, you were in the backseat of his car, fogging up the windows as you bounced up and down on his cock. “‘M gonna come!” You warned him.

“Go on, sweetheart.” He encouraged with a groan, strong hands plastered flat against your sweaty back. “Tight cunt’s gonna pull the come right outta me.”

“Fuck, ‘m coming, Mikey!” You whimpered, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. His hands gripped your hips, grinding you down on his cock to ride out your orgasm. Your clit bumped deliciously against his pubic bone, and your walls clamped down even tighter, throwing Michael headfirst into his own orgasm.

“Holy- oh my god, don’t fuckin’ stop, baby.” He moaned, throwing his head back. His hips pushed up of their own accord, his thick cock twitching inside you as he shot his come as deep as he could go. He brought one hand down on your ass as you thrusted weakly against him. “That’s it, sweetheart, get every drop.”

You rested your weight on him, your sweaty forehead against the leather headrest. You both took a silent moment to catch your breath, regroup after the explosive sex you always seem to have. Turns out, even with all your disagreements, the attraction never stopped. His hands rubbed up and down your back, almost lulling you to sleep until he pressed his fingertips a little harder, and a moan passed through your lips, eyes shooting open. Michael chuckled deeply and kneaded at that spot, “What was that?”

“Fuck, I don’t know.” You admitted, tension rolling away as he worked at the knot. “My back has been killing me lately.”

“Work?”

“Maybe, but ‘m not sure. Just hurts sometimes.”

“Lucky for you, you got your own personal masseuse.”

You snorted, “My hero.”

His hand smacked against your backside playfully, making you jolt on his lap with a giggle. He laughed along with you, “Watch that tone, sweetheart.”

You shook your head, laughter dying down as your eyes haphazardly scanned the ledge of the back window. And next to an empty cup, you saw a piece of paper. A prescription made for Natalie Berzatto.

And it hit you like a train. You couldn’t keep doing this. It wasn’t fair to either of you. You couldn’t keep taking the best parts of him and ignoring the fact that he needed help. And he couldn’t expect you to be around at his beck and call forever. The time for playing pretend was over — you needed to take a real step for the both of you. 

You swung your leg over his lap and sat next to him, scanning the car floor for your panties. “Get dressed. I still have somewhere to take you.”

“You kidnappin’ me, baby?”

“It’s only kidnapping if you don’t go willingly.”

Minutes later, you were walking into a nearby building. The entire walk, he asked and asked where you were taking him, but you never answered, merely saying it was a surprise. When he walked in, and his eyes fell on the folded chairs set in a circle, his smile dropped. Without another word, he turned around and walked out.

“Michael, wait!” You were close behind, following him back outside into the hot, sticky summer night. “Just listen to me, okay?”

“So- so you think ‘cause you’re sober now you can do whatever the fuck you want, is that it?” He asked, pointing an accusatory finger at you.

“I’m just trying to help—”

“I told you I wasn’t fuckin’ using anymore!” He yelled at you.

“And I know that you are!” You snapped back. “I’ve seen the empty pill bottles, Michael. All the prescriptions that are never in your own fucking name. I’m not stupid!”

“Stupid enough to keep comin’ back!” He spat at you. “W-what changed, huh? Is it the therapist? ‘Cause before her, you were happy to just fuck me and leave, pills be damned.”

“Oh, fuck that, Michael.” You laughed humorlessly, pushing at his chest. “You are not doing that anymore, being a dick to me because you can’t accept the truth.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“And what would the truth be, sweetheart? Fuckin’ enlighten me.”

“That you’re gonna fucking destroy yourself if you don’t get help!” You shouted. Tears were filling your eyes at the thought, and you realized you weren’t even angry. You were desperate — desperate for him to do something, anything to help himself. “You- you push everyone that loves you away! Me, Richie, Carm—”

“You leave Carmen outta this.” He grumbled, looking away to avoid seeing the tears that fell down your face.

“Everyone that cares, everyone that tries to help, you just treat them like complete and utter shit because you don’t know how to ask for help! But you don’t have to fucking ask, Mikey — we’re offering! You just have to take it and do something before it’s too late!”

Michael was quiet, eerily so. There was a time when you would’ve been able to read him like a book, to say exactly what he needed to hear. But you couldn’t anymore. And that scared you.

You stepped forward with a sniffle, placing your hands on his biceps. You rubbed up and down in a way that you hoped was comforting. “Just one meeting. That’s all I’m asking.”

When he finally looked back at you, his chest tightened at the sight. Your beautiful eyes, filled with tears and a shimmer of hope that he might agree. And part of him wanted to. Some inkling deep down inside of him wanted to wipe your tears, take your hand, and march into that meeting determined to stay sober for the rest of his life. If only to settle down and make a life with you, one that he could be proud of.

But, as always, something stopped him. A small doubt creeping in, telling him he couldn’t do it. That he wasn’t capable of normality, that it wasn’t in his blood. He was drowning in sorrow and pity, and he was willing to accept that darkness — welcomed it, even. But what kind of man would he be if he dragged you under with him? He cupped your face in his hands, shaking his head. Your hands slid up his forearms and stopped on his wrists with a desperate iron grip. His voice was barely a whisper, “I’m not going to that meeting, baby.”

“Mikey, please.” You begged. “I love you.”

“You can’t fix me.” He hoped you heard what he meant to say: I love you, too.

He pressed a soft kiss to your lips, and responded in kind. It was gentle, melancholic, but it was his way of saying goodbye. His way of expressing the love that he could never quite show you in the way you deserved. But the love was there nonetheless, tearing at his heart until his chest was hollow, nothing left but the memory of you.

When he pulled away, he had to pry your hands off him and take a step back. He gave you a sad smile, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Enjoy your meeting, sweetheart.”

He turned around and walked away. A few tears escaped his eyes when he heard a heart-wrenching sob pass through your lips. He wiped them away quickly and tried to walk faster. 

He was gone the next month.

—

“We’re closed!”

“Maybe you should lock the door then.”

You were still in your black dress and heels when you arrived at The Beef. No one knew where Carmy was, but you’d had an idea in the back of your head. You weren’t sure if you were right, but it only made sense that he’d be at his brother’s restaurant. 

Well, at the restaurant his brother left him. 

When Carmy emerged from the back, he stared, his eyes red from crying. “How’d you know I was here?”

You shrugged, “This is usually where I’d find him too.”

“Yo, please, please don’t come in here with that sentimental bullshit, alright?” He said, his tone sharp and mean. “If I wanted to hear about how great he was, I would’ve gone to the funeral.”

“You should’ve been there anyway. He was your brother.” 

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you, Carmen, I didn’t come here to pick a fight.”

He turned on his heel, stomping back to the kitchen, and you followed close behind. “What did you come for then?”

“We’re going to a meeting.”

Carmy kneeled on the floor, next to a bucket of soapy water and a wet rag. He picked it up and wrung it out with a grunt. “What are you talking about?”

“Would you prefer NA or AA?”

He was scrubbing at the same dirty spot that he had for the last hour and a half, but your question made him pause. He looked up at you in disbelief, letting out a scoff. “Excuse me?”

“There are two NA groups I know of, but only one AA, and it starts soon so—”

“Y’know, you’re the addict here, not me.”

“Which is exactly how I know you need to go to a meeting.”

He was seething, an angry red steadily creeping from his neck to his face, one prominent vein bulging in his forehead as he shouted at you. “Goddamnit, I don’t need to go to a fuckin’ Al-Anon meeting! I’m just grieving, alright?!”

“Carm—”

“No, fuck that. The whole reason I didn’t go to the funeral is so I wouldn’t be around that bullshit! You know how Ma gets, and without Mikey here to fix it…”

“Michael was never gonna fix your mother.”

“Right, ‘cause he was too busy trying to fix you.” Carmen let out a harsh chuckle. “‘I’ll call you back, my girl needs me. Hold on, my girl is on the other line.’ Instead of fixing his restaurant, or-or helping his mother, he was making sure you were on the right track. Making sure you don’t relapse.”

Your heart stopped. Your blood burned. You wanted to let loose on him then and there. Yell and shout and cry about how Michael could barely fix himself, let alone you. You wanted to tell Carmen that it was you who desperately tried to fix Michael, make him sober, turn him into the man you knew he could be. Or at least, the one you believed he could be. The man Carm thought he was.

It baffled you how the entire family managed to hide the fact that Michael was an addict from Carmy. But it was a group effort, a last ditch effort to give him the big brother he’d always wanted, the one he remembered from his childhood. He was truly blind to Michael’s true nature, but you knew it was partially because Carmy had his own thing going on. You could see it behind his eyes — it was the same look Michael got before he did something self-destructive. 

Instead of yelling or screaming like you wanted to, tears filled your eyes. You knew from experience the Berzatto men could be mean, especially under pressure, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. Unlike earlier in the day, you couldn’t hold them back. Tears fell freely down your cheeks. 

But unlike when his older brother spat unkind words your way, Carmy didn’t try to distract you from it or talk his way out of it. No, his face dropped when he realized the severity of his words. He watched as your knees buckled beneath you, moving across the floor to catch you once an ugly sob wretched its way past your lips. He held you as your body shook with the emotions that you’d been ignoring all day. One of his hands rested on the back of your head, stroking your hair with his thumb. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that, okay?”

You don’t know how long you cried. You just sobbed and sobbed until there was nothing left, until you felt completely and utterly empty. Luckily, Carmy helped you sit on the floor. He sat next to you, both your backs against the dishwasher. It creaked loudly under your combined weight, and you sat up. “Sorry,” You croaked out. “Should I not lean on that?”

Carmy chuckled quietly and drew his knees up, resting his forearms atop them. “Piece of shit doesn’t work, don’t worry about it.”

The tiniest smile tugged at your lips as you leaned back and wiped away your tears. “Good. For me, I mean. Sucks for business though.”

His smile faded away as he watched you wipe your tears. His stomach turned uncomfortably at the fact that he’d been so mean, that he’d made you cry. He knew, of course, that he wasn’t the only reason you broke down, but he didn’t like that he piled on. He called your name softly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that to you.”

“Carm, it’s ok—”

“It’s not.” He shook his head, blue eyes piercing into yours. “You were right. Michael couldn’t fix Ma’s problems. And you didn’t need him to fix yours. He was lucky to have you.”

A sigh passed through your lips, and for the first time in a long time, tension rolled off your shoulders. “He loved you, Carmen.”

He fought back a sad smile, “He loved you, too.”

You paused, tears of grief filling your eyes before you remembered what you came for. You took a deep breath and wiped at your cheeks. “I need to show you something.”

His brow furrowed, turning a bit to face you, resting one leg on the ground. “What?”

You grabbed your phone from your pocket and pulled off the case. You lifted the strip of film from your rubber case, handing it to him. “This is why I need to go to an NA meeting tonight. Figured you could go with me.”

A hand over his mouth and tears in his eyes, Carmy let out a single quiet sob as he stared at the two black and white ultrasounds. “Is it…?”

You nodded, “They are.”

“They?”

“Turns out, you can’t forget to take birth control for even one day. I thought taking two the next day might help, but here we are.” Chuckling quietly, you wiped away the tears that were threatening to fall once more. “I’m not… I’m not asking you to replace Mikey or be their dad or anything. It would… y’know, just be nice not to do this by my—”

“Woah, hey,” He stopped you with a shake of his head, not even wanting you to think like that. “You’re family, period. Have been since Michael brought you home. And always will be. Alright?”

Finally, a sliver of hope. You smiled, “Yeah.”

“Good.” He handed the photos back to you gently, as if one wrong move would ruin them. Then, he stood on his feet, wiping a hand over his face and taking a deep breath. He offered his hand. “Now, come on. I’m taking you to your meeting.”

[phantomspiderr]

Rest

Pairing: Steven Grant x gn!reader

Word Count: 750+

Summary: a sleepy cuddle with Steven

Warnings/Tags: just some cuddling fluff that I think about all the time, not really any description of reader, reader also doesn't talk, trying to keep it as neutral as possible, I don't think there's anything else but let me know if I've missed something

a/n: two posts in one week omg, Happy Holidays bbys😘

･☆: *.☽ .* :☆

There is no sound throughout the flat, only occasionally is the silence broken by pages turning or scribbling of notes. Another evening of research had turned into being up until the early hours of the morning. Steven was hunched over his desk, hyper-focused on researching for a new exhibition that had been announced at his work. Since he’d finally settled back at home—after everything that happened with Marc, Egypt, Khonshu, all of those things that had been addressed—he’d been dying to get back to the museum. Unfortunately, Donna still worked there and everyone still remembered he’d trashed a perfectly good bathroom for no particular reason but luckily London had many, many museums. Steven felt like his luck had finally begun to change when he came across a part-time tour guide position at another fancy museum. Then the manager had loved his enthusiasm and knowledge so much that they’d offered him the job there and then. Now he's been working there for a few months but he was still set on making a good impression, that and he just found learning all of the knowledge therapeutic. There was a deep-seated comfort for Steven in reading over history books, especially on days like today when the streets of London are covered in snow and the flat is so cosy. He is so lost in his reading that he jumps when the floorboards creak, his head whipping around to your shadowy figure. Steven’s entire body softens, his fight or flight instincts calming down when he sees that you’re wrapped up in a blanket, standing a few feet away sleepily looking at him.

“Hi, little star. What’re you doing up?” Steven reaches a hand out to you, while his other removes his glasses and places them down on the desk. You quietly walked toward him, rubbing at your eyes with your blanketed hand and he can’t stop a smile from forming. As soon as you’re close enough Steven wraps his arm around you, looking up at you fondly, “you okay?” You only nod to the question, the memory of sleep still evident in your brain and Steven knows it’s late, so late, and that he should just allow you to drag him back to bed with him but he’s almost done with this chapter. Then you let out the quietest little whine and he almost gives up there and then, “I just have a few more pages love and then I promise I’ll come to bed. I swear.” Of course, you just pout and whine a little more and again he considers just leaving the rest for tomorrow but he’s so close to being done. He just looks between you and the desk a couple times before the idea pops into his head, “come sit with me till I’m done.” You don’t even take a moment to think about it, immediately climbing into Steven’s lap. With his help, you’re straddled in his lap facing him and he’s cupping your face in his hands, thumbs rubbing the tops of your cheeks while he takes a moment just to admire you. He gives your cheek the gentlest kiss as he allows you to make yourself more comfortable, your arms along with the blanket wrapping around his shoulders and your head resting to the side, tucked against your own shoulder and his face. Steven allows himself a minute to just hold you like this, he hadn’t even realised he was a little cold until your warmth was wrapped around him. He appreciates the comfort before he starts to realise how tired he actually is and now he has to fight his drooping eyes as he picks his book up again.

In no time you've dropped back into a slumber cosied up against Steven and he's struggling now. The urge to finish the chapter slipping from him, maybe he's learned enough for one night or maybe he can just rest his eyes for a moment and he'll find the energy to finish. He decides he'll just rest for a minute and he'll be fine. So, he ever so gently nuzzles his head into your neck, the book he'd been so absorbed with abandoned on the desk in favour of wrapping his arms around your body. Then within minutes he completely succumbs to sleep, research forgotten, now all he thinks of is you. Of how warm you are and that you smell so good and that all he wants at this moment is to stay like this forever. To always be this close and comfortable.

[fettuccin-e]

Make It Bruise

I wanted to see if I could write steven as more of a dom, bc i seem to default to subby!Steven and i think maybe i succeeded?? so yeah we've got a dom steven here my dear ppl

(Tags: Steven Grant x Reader, dom/sub dynamics, afab!fem!reader, spanking like a lot of spanking as 'punishment,' fingering, a bit of Marc x Reader)

Sometimes you’re absolutely convinced that Steven Grant, newly-appointed tour guide and boyfriend extraordinaire, is the most patient man on Earth. With the amount of shit he gets at work, coupled with the seemingly never-ending warzone of his mind, Steven should have every right to be uptight, defensive, even downright rude. But he’s not. Every day he comes home to you, patient and loving; he cooks you dinner, holds your hand, fucks you sweetly with unending focus on your pleasure and comfort.

Steven is a wonderful, patient man, and you love him for it.

But also, sometimes, you just want to see him snap.

It’s only happened a few times; when Donna got on his ass just a bit too much that day, when Marc was being an absolute twit in the headspace. Steven reaches a breaking point, and although you shouldn’t enjoy it as much as you do, you still dream of it, crave it. You love when he loses what little composure he has left, when he comes home to you, shoulders drawn tight and eyebrows furrowed as he orders you to take your panties off and bend over for him. He fucks you like an animal on those days, until you’re crying and boneless and dripping with his cum, voice raw from screaming. 

It’s complete fucking bliss.

So, against your better judgment, you’ve been a brat to Steven all day. Not answering his texts, talking back to him and rolling your eyes. Steven knows you’re not mean-spirited, that you’d never actually want to be rude or genuinely upset him. He knows that you’re doing this entirely on purpose. And as much as people try to underestimate him, Steven isn’t a stupid man. He knows when his baby needs to be put in her place.

It all comes to a head that evening, when the light outside was just starting to fade with the sunset, the both of you getting ready to lay down on the couch to read together.

“Darling, have you seen my glasses?” Steven asks, innocent and soft-spoken. “Can’t seem to find them anywhere.”

You scoff, just a little, before muttering, “Lord Steven, can’t you keep track of them for more than a fucking hour?” And you can see Steven’s broad back straightening minutely as he turns to look at you. 

“Do you ever get tired of it?” He asks, still softly, but his arms are crossing over his chest as he crosses toward you.

You try not to stare at his arms bulging under the thin fabric of his button down. “Tired of what?”

“Don’t act stupid, darling,” Steven says. He stands just a few inches above you, his hand coming up to tilt your chin up toward his face. “Do you ever get tired,” his hand trails lower until his big palm drifts down to your neck, and you gasp as he suddenly grips it tight, “of being an absolute fucking brat?”

“S-Steven,” you whisper, but he interrupts you quickly. 

“Take your fucking clothes off. I’m going to sit on the couch, and you’re going to lay across my lap,” he mutters, his voice dark and completely unlike your normal loving, patient Steven. 

And it’s a terrible decision, maybe one of the worst you’ve ever had, when you say, “And what if I don’t?” 

You can swear that Steven literally growls, gripping your throat even tighter and tugging your face towards his, forcing you up to your tiptoes. “If you don’t, love,” he says the pet name like an insult. “I won’t let you cum for a week. I’ll tell Marc and Jake what you’ve done, how you keep fucking misbehaving, and they won’t let you cum either. And they’re far less forgiving than me, darling, aren’t they?”

You nod with wide eyes, and Steven lets you go. You inhale air into your lungs once again, and nearly whine when Steven goes to sit on the couch. He lifts an eyebrow at you when you stand there, looking at him dumbly, before you remember yourself. You strip yourself quickly, nearly tripping over your pants when you take them off in your rush to get to Steven. 

You drape yourself across his lap, stomach pressing into his thick thighs while your elbows press into the couch cushion next to him. 

“What do you say if you want to stop, darling?” he murmurs, palm held just above your bare ass.

“Red,” you say, and a stinging pain rips up your spine as Steven’s palm comes down hard on your asscheek.

“That’s right, darling, so fucking smart,” he punctuates the last word with another smack, and you choke on a scream as the sting spreads through your body. “Now, sweetheart, I’m going to give you ten-” Steven pauses, and you glance back at him to see that he’s not looking at you, but at the mirror across your living room. Your gaze snaps back forward when he turns back toward you, meeting your eyes briefly. “Marc says I should give you twenty, but I don’t think you could take that, could you, love?”

You shake your head hard, heart beating rapidly at the thought of being subjected to twenty of Steven’s brutal slaps.

Steven chuckles softly at your vehemence, running a soothing hand down your bare back. “We’ll appease him with fifteen, okay?”

The idea of fifteen spanks was still daunting, but you know that Steven’s mind is already made up; you can’t talk him back down to ten. You whisper softly, “Yes, Steven,” and try to brace yourself.

It’s brutal, punishing, the way Steven’s hand comes down on your ass and thighs. He counts every single one, and his slaps seem to get harder and harder with each. Your body lurches forward with every impact, rocking back and forth on his lap. He counts each one, a soft murmur under his breath after every loud smack, and fifteen somehow seems like the biggest number in the world. Tears are starting to drip down your reddened cheeks with the sting of it, little moans and gasps of “Steven!” escaping your lips as he spanks you viciously.

It hurts, it hurts so bad, but you can’t deny the way it also feels so good. Every sting makes your clit pulse, makes your pussy throb uncontrollably. You can’t hide the way your cunt is dripping, completely drenched with your juices. 

And Steven just keeps talking, muttering “such a fucking brat,” while he leaves your ass red and welted. Around slap nine, he asks you, “why are you getting spanked like this, darling?” and you can’t help but cry out, stupid and brainless as you are, “cause I’m a brat, oh god, been so bad to you Steven. I needed to be punished, shit.”

“That’s right, gorgeous,” Steven says, smirking to himself, looking at the state he’s reduced you to. “You’re so smart. Last one, okay?”

You nod, hot tears still streaming down your face as you gulp air into your heaving lungs. Steven’s hand comes down on you one final time, the hardest it’s ever been, and you scream a little bit as Steven mutters a soft, “fifteen.”

You barely have time to recover before Steven’s suddenly stuffing two of his thick, calloused fingers into your sopping pussy, his other hand petting softly across your sensitive ass.

“Steven, Steven, oh fuck, oh fucking Christ,” you slur as Steven’s fingers jam in and out of you ruthlessly, your bruised up ass bouncing as he fucks you savagely. He grinds the pads of his fingers up into your sweet spot buried deep inside, and your hips lurch unconsciously, trying to escape the pleasure that’s too much, it’s too fucking much-

“Don’t run from me, love,” Steven murmurs, his dark eyes watching your writhing, glistening body. He can feel the fluttering of your little pussy around his fingers, and knows that you won’t be able to hold your orgasm for long. But you’re trying, he knows you’re trying to wait for his permission.

Steven glances up at the mirror across the room and makes eye contact with Marc, who has been watching with dark, unwavering eyes as Steven plays with you. Marc nods at him, just barely, and Steven smirks. “Go ahead and cum, darling, Marc and I want to see it.”

You have no choice but to follow Steven’s unyielding command, your body going rigid as your pussy clutches around his fingers, your ass still red hot and throbbing. You’re sobbing and gasping as you cum, and Steven carries you through it, murmuring little affirmations of “you did so good, love, you took it so well.”

The thrusts of Steven’s fingers slowly come to a stop, and he finally removes his fingers, sticky with your slick. He wipes them carelessly on his jeans and lifts you to cuddle you into his chest, shushing you softly as your breathing slowly returns to normal.

“‘M sorry, Steven. I was mean-”

Steven cuts you off gently, running a hand down your naked back as your hands dig into the fabric of his shirt. “You’re forgiven darling. You’re always forgiven, perfect as you are. Love you so much.”

Your eyes are heavy, your body exhausted and wrung dry, but you manage a “love you too, Steven,” before you drop off into sleep, your face buried into the crook of Steven’s neck.

Steven will take care of you. He always does.

[heisenberg-simp257]

Hi! Can I request 4 lords with their S/O who is very cuddly and affectionate? Hope you have a great day/night!

Sure!❤️❤️ Thank you!

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The Four Lords with a Very Cuddly and Affectionate S/O

Alcina Dimitrescu

-She is the type of woman who always loves to be cherished and given attention. So, Alcina absolutely adores having you be all cuddly and affectionate. Gives her a chance to feel loved, even though she is already loved by her three daughters.

-Uses her size to her advantage as it gives her more room to hold you since you loved to be held. 

-You are also the type of person who likes to grab her hand and go full Tarzan-mode by holding your much smaller palm against her larger hand and lacing your fingers together. You do this multiple times.

-And your cuddliness doesn’t just go towards all the hugs and handholds, it also goes with how much thought you put into her. So, things like dates on the terrace (with wine of course) or you complimenting her daily are things that you like to keep in mind.

-Another thing you guys do is, since she is so tall, she will lean down and give you access to kiss her cheek. It’s something her daughters swoon over and find adorable. They are happy for their mother. 

-Alcina never gets overwhelmed by your constant cuddles and affection. For her, it’s a constant reminder that she is loveable, not that she ever thought she wasn’t, but that she has someone who sees her as more of a person and less of a conquest.

Donna Beneviento (and Angie)

-At first, Donna was overwhelmed by how cuddly and affectionate you could be. She’s not used to someone like that and is certainly not used to having someone actually wanting to hold her.

-You have to peel back her insecurities if you want to get Donna to open up since you randomly hugging her once put her in cardiac arrest. It may take a while, but she will eventually learn to be just as cuddly as you.

-Soon, you and she are a sappy affection mess. The two of you can be caught together in each other’s arms on the couch, holding hands around the garden, and don’t get me started with how much you love to lift up her veil and kiss her.

-Angie finds the whole behavior odd and disgusting. In reality, she’s just jealous that Donna is spending more time with you than her. It takes some time (and discipline), but Angie learns to stop being feral. Towards you, anyway.

-Since Donna has a tendency to get caught up in things a lot or just have her depressed days, you always put together a time where you guys can just have some tea together. That, or you fill her bedroom with her favorite flowers.

-As stated, she used to get overwhelmed by your affection, but soon learned to love it and even reciprocate it. However, if you start to be all cuddly in front of the other lords, she shuts down. So, just try to save the attention for private spaces.

Salvatore Moreau

-Someone who loves him? Who also happens to be very cuddly and affectionate? Moreau would probably combust from how happy he would be for having someone like you. In fact, he’s probably worse than you.

-The two of you are the sappiest beings on the planet. If the other lords see you guys holding hands together or some other kind of affectionate business, Heisenberg will fake vomit, Angie will cover Donna’s eyes, and Alcina will just roll her eyes like an exasperated mother.

-You guys would be the type of couple who constantly go, “I love you.” “No, I love you more.” “No, I love you more.” This type of scene is also probably accompanied with you guys being in each other’s arms under the stars.

-Still, even while he is just as affectionate as you, you manage to plan a lot of things that show how much you love him. Things such as movie nights, walks, or star gazing. Heck, even bird watching is something that he would love to do with you.

-Moreau sometimes can’t sleep because he is so excited and happy to see you the next day. If you guys sleep together, Moreau will just watch you (not creepily, but cutely) as you sleep. He just loves and admires you so much. Also, he is just so grateful for you.

-Even with how cuddly and affectionate he is back; Moreau still has self-doubt about whether or not he is worthy lover towards you. This is what leads you to continue your actions, reassuring him that you love him and don’t plan to give this affection to anyone else.

Karl Heisenberg

-Having someone be so cuddly and affectionate is something this poor man was never used to. Heisenberg will tense up whenever you hug him, kiss him, or hold his hand. He’s just not used to receiving such love from another person.

-It can get overwhelming for him, but he keeps it to himself. Heisenberg will just put up with your affection because he truly is appreciative of having someone love him the way you do. He kind of puts on an image of being cocky with you, but deep down, he’s just simping big time.

-He will get feral if the other lords notice your behavior with him. If you’re going to be all lovey-dovey, due it behind closed doors with him. This is because Heisenberg can finally let his guard down when it’s just you and him.

-Whenever you do something affectionate for him, examples being buying him something special from the Duke or making him something to eat because this poor man forgets, he just discombobulates. This is because he’s just not used to this kind of behavior. Then, he gets all flustered and avoids eye contact.

-For Heisenberg, he just needs time to get used to your cuddly and affectionate nature. So, every time you hold his hand or nuzzle into him, he tenses up and you have to remember that he is not used to any kind of physical or emotional affection.

-Still, he values your presence because love like this was something that was absent in his life. It will take a long time, but he eventually starts to show a bit of that affection back. In small forms, but he will soon stop tensing whenever you hold him or tell him you love him.

[michaeljoncarter]

i think kyle and kory might have THE funniest and most chaotic history of any 2 characters i’ve ever seen. they’ve spoken all of like 3 words to each other in total, but literally EVERYTHING about the couple interactions they’ve had has been so insane in so many ways

the very first time they met, kyle tripped all over himself and told her he used to have a poster of her in his dorm room while donna was introducing them, then went with her and the rest of the titans to try and save gar, where kory very dramatically revealed she was possessed by raven. everybody’s like “my god!!” and kyle is just. standing there. in the background. absolutely no idea what the hell is going on or who any of these people are

and then in THE SAME ISSUE, tamaran gets destroyed right in front of kory’s eyes. she’s like on the floor having a breakdown, and kyle, who literally just met her 5 minutes ago, is still just in the background like 😬

the ONLY other time i’m aware of them really interacting is those couple pages in wonder woman where they stop a xenophobic dude from attacking an alien and kory says something like “god i’m so sick of humans” and kyle’s just fully like “yeah same sometimes i hate humanity as a whole and think this entire planet was a mistake” and starts to go off on a whole rant about empathy but gets cut off because a villain flies in out of nowhere and TURNS HIM INTO A FUCKING GOAT, knocks kory and jen out, and then the scene just ENDS.

i don’t think this was EVER ADDRESSED like was he still a goat when she woke up?? did she stay with him until the goat curse wore off? were she and jen running around with goatkyle trying to find a way to fix him offscreen? did she just abandon him to his fate?? take him to a barn??? i have SO MANY QUESTIONS like this shit was SO HECTIC FOR NO REASON

god and ALSO while afaik these are the only two times they’ve actually really talked, there’s also the fact that kory was both best friends with donna and got pretty close with jen while they were on the outsiders together right after her and kyle’s messy breakup. she has almost certainly had to sit through multiple rants about him from BOTH of his exes

she literally only knows him from 2 incredibly short, incredibly hellish interactions, and they’ve never really talked to each other, but also she probably knows more about him and his personal life than 99% of people including his closest friends. more than she ever wanted to know. WAY more.

like what the hell would her opinion of him even be?? i think about this all the time and yet i have absolutely no idea??

she barely knows him but also he was there for one of the most traumatic events in her life and also she knows every single weird thing he’s into and has seen him turned into a barnyard animal. how the hell is she supposed to feel about all that. can’t even begin to speculate. what the fuck. i’m obsessed with them

[havendance]

A Lonely Place of Dying

Companion piece to this. Also takes place in the helena dick roleswap au.

--

There was a kid in Helena’s apartment. Young, maybe in middle school, dark hair, nicely dressed if a bit grubby. Standing frozen where he’d been poking at the photo album Donna had given her, like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Who are you?” Helena demanded. “And what are you doing in my apartment?” He wasn’t what she’d been expecting to find when she came back to find her door unlocked.

The kid jumped back. “I’m sorry!” he said. “I know I shouldn’t have broken in but I didn’t know where you were or when you’d come back and it’s important! It’s really important.”

Helena sighed. “Look, I don’t care what game you’re playing here, kid, but you’ve thirty seconds to get out of here before I call the cops.” She probably wouldn’t actually call the cops, just kick him out herself, but he didn’t need to know that.

“No! I promise this is, umm. Look, Batman needs you!” he blurted out,

“Excuse me?” Helena schooled her face to look like she thought the kid was crazy rather than reflect the spike of adrenaline his words had sent rushing through her.

The boy nodded. “I know you’re—” he glanced around furtively before whispering “—Nightwing and I know that Bruce Wayne is—” back to whispering “—Batman.”

Helena made sure the door was shut behind her. This was not the time to panic. “Who told you?” she demanded. If this was another one of Deathstroke’s games—

The boy had taken off his backpack. He looked up from where he was rummaging through it. “No one!” he said. “I figured it— I mean, it’s not important. I promise I never told anyone.”

“Who did you say you were again?”

“It’s not important.” He dug out a paper folder, shoved it into her hands. “Batman needs you.”

Helena opened it automatically. “Look—” she started to say before looking down and seeing just what was inside. It was Batman: pictures of Batman taken from far too close, amateur enough that it was probably the kid that had taken them. And wasn’t that a comforting thought?

“He’s been bad, really bad since Ja—” he stopped himself. “Since Robin died. I think he’s going to get himself killed.”

Helena flipped through: Batman looking beat to hell. Batman falling off the reservoir. Batman, soaking wet, staggering over to the Batmobile. She’d heard it was bad, heard the rumors that they were thinking of taking down the Batsignal. It was different seeing it. “Where did you get these?”

The boy shrugged. “I took them.” That’s what she was afraid of. They were far too close to the action to be comfortable. Batman should’ve seen him. The fact that he hadn’t was a whole other bad sign on its own. “He needs Robin. To hold him back. To remind him why he does it.”

“Robin’s dead, kid,” Helena said bluntly.

“You used to be Robin. If you go back to being Robin, you can help him. Robin’s the light to Batman’s darkness. He needs it. He needs you.”

That startled a bitter laugh out of her. “Batman’s made it perfectly clear that he doesn’t need me.” He’d made that clear after Jason, before Jason. Again and again. The wonder wasn’t that he’d fired her, but that she’d managed to last so long before he did.

“No,” the kid sounded almost heartbroken. He’d probably only ever seen the pretty picture they’d put on and not the ugliness underneath. “He raised you! He taught you everything you know. You were Batman and Robin. Can you really just abandon him like that?” He sounded so certain about all of it. That it meant something.

Helena sighed. The kid’s certainty was contagious. There had been good times there along with the bad. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll swing by and see if I can give him a hand. But as Nightwing. I’m not becoming Robin again. I can’t become Robin again.”

The kid sagged in relief. “Thank you,” he said. He started to eye her door.

Helena made a decision. “And you’re coming with me.”

“What?”

She smiled. “You’ve still got some explaining to do, kid.”

—

It took a couple of hours to drive from New York to Gotham. The kid (who’s name she still didn’t have) seemed content to sit in silence, but Helena wasn’t about to let him off that easily.

“So,” she said, after she’d made it out of the city traffic and onto the freeway, “You never told me your name.”

He shrugged. “It’s not important.” He was hugging his back to his chest, staring straight ahead out the front window. “I’m just doing this and then you’ll never see me again. You don’t need to know.”

Helena sincerely doubted that. “You know a lot of big secrets kid. That’s not just something we can let go.”

“Oh.” It sounded like that was occuring to him for the first time. “Even if I promise never to tell anyone? Or are you going to brainwipe me? I promise I won’t tell!”

Helena sighed. “No one’s going to brainwipe you. Just, how did you even figure it out in the first place?”

“Oh, that. It’s kind of silly,” he said. “I don’t think you need to worry about anyone else doing it.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

“Well, you saved my life once,” he said, softly.

“I’ve saved lots of people.”

“As Helena Bertinelli, I mean, not Robin.”

“Oh?”

But she didn’t need to encourage him, he was already telling the story.

“I was 5,” he said. “There was this children’s event I think, some sort of fundraiser, at the Opera House and my parents had taken me. Two Face attacked in the middle.”

It was beginning to sound familiar.

“I don’t remember exactly what happened, but he grabbed me as a hostage I think. He was flipping his coin when you attacked him. You came out of nowhere and hit him with a fire extinguisher.”

Oh, she did remember that. She’d been twelve, with three years of Robin under her belt. Two Face had separated the children from the adults and she’d been there with none of Robin’s usual tools when he announced he was going to start killing people if his demands weren’t met. When he’d pulled out the coin.

“You were crying,” she remembered. “I gave you his coin.” She’d known his name then; she could almost remember it now, at the edge of her memory.

“I still have it,” he said fondly. “I thought you were the coolest ever after that. You were so brave.”

Helena had been terrified. Afterwards, Bruce had yelled at her about it, with the cold voice she’d learnt meant that he was afraid too. And afterwards, he’d held her so tight he thought he would never let her go.

“—and afterwards, I was convinced you had to be Robin because you were so cool.” Helena glanced over to see that he had an absentminded smile on his face. “I was only five. It was kind of silly.”

“It was right.”

“Yeah, but that was just luck. I mean, I looked for other evidence when I got older, and if you know what you’re looking for, you can see the connections, but like. I just got lucky. I mean, I was just a kid.”

He was still a kid, Helena didn’t point out. Instead she said, “All the secrecy, and it’s undone by a child’s guess. Impressive.” If Bruce weren’t currently trying to destroy himself, she’d almost be looking forward to seeing his reaction to it.

“Yeah. I wrote you a thank you note afterwards,” the kid added as an afterthought, “I don’t know if you ever got it.”

She had. It had featured an illustration of her attacking Two Face in crayon and a polite note that had clearly been written out by the kid’s parents, but he had painstakingly signed his name in crayon underneath. What had it been…

“Tim Drake!” She exclaimed at last.

The kid startled. “What?”

“That was your name. Tim Drake.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. I guess I couldn’t keep it a secret forever.”

“Nope,” Helena said. “You do realize I’m a detective?”

“Yeah,” the kid— Tim— sounded sheepish.

That thank you note he’d sent was probably still lying around somewhere. Maybe she could get Alfred to dig it up.

[igotanidea]

Toxic : Dick grayson x reader pt 2

Just FYI: As I mentioned I changed the readers proffesion (forensic scientist and tech expert) and her alias - to Flux (you'll figure it out), but everything else is the same.

I made a life for myself outsider of Gotham. Leaving the past behind hoping it would never come running after me. Since I was always interested in science and criminology (no surprise given my adoptive father’s side job) I became a forensic scientist and technician for the LAPD. I worked hard to become to best in my profession and the one people relied on. What was funny, despite my rather reserved outside and dislike of any office gossip I was also known as the one who gave the best advice. Maybe it was because of my abilities. Oh, and speaking of that other part of me, I tried to give up on them. Being Ghost just did not work out anymore so I made a choice of being ordinary, no-super-enhanced YN. Funny thing was that despite my quitting they developed. After year one I discovered that apart from being an empath I could also draw people’s energy and use it to form some sort of shields and protections. Shit. Is that what you get when you try to bury the past?

But this, this was fine. I was still able to make it work in line with my normal life. I got back in touch with an old friend, Donna Troy aka Wonder Girl, who used to be my best friend back in the titans day. We worked quite well together, her extravert nature filling well enough for my introversion and vice versa. We met from time to time, keeping our friendship afloat. Once she made a mistake of asking me about what happened in Gotham that made me run away and whether this concerned Dick (after all he was her friend too), but I shoved her off, probably a bit harsher than intended. But I knew she understood my motives.

Life was good for a couple of freaking years. And then all Hell broke loose. By some crazy accident I came to the information that our department will be energized by the new detective. Normally I would let this news pass me by without giving any more thought into it, but when I got the notification of the upcoming employee I could not believe my own eyes. We would like to inform you that starting today we will have another detective on board. Please give warm welcome to detective Dick Grayson. Fuck! What the hell was he doing here? Was it some undercover mission for Batman? Surely he did not know I was working here as well. It’s been such a long time and I thought I was over feelings for him. Ha, ha, ha….. Good joke apparently. Thank god I had my lab on the other side of the floor so, luck help me, we would not be seeing each other too often. Knowing myself and knowing Dick, this could got awkward.

Thoughts and memories started bombarding my head up the point where I forgot about “starting today” part of the message and if it wasn’t for some other detectives who saw me sitting and staring at the wall I would just miss this warm welcome. Not that I would complain if it were to happen. But they were reluctant to all my excuses starting from the pettiest one like “I got a lot of work to do” ending on the most unbelievable one’s like “I got an old injury in my leg back and I can’t move.” Damn detectives. They just dragged me out of the office into the conference room.

“What is this? A kindergarten party?” I muttered crossing my arms and trying to stand in the back

“Oh, come on YN, don’t be grumpy. You are going absolutely wild in this solitary lab of yours. Aren’t you at least a bit curious about the new meat?” detective Todd Carson asked me

“Nope. Not even a little.”

“I’ve heard he is hot, you know. You could use some distraction” Amanda, the secretary winked at me.

“Leave the girl be, guys.” Captain Sarah Anders cut them off, as always when situations get a bit more serious. “we are still at work and you know the  HR policy on the matter of relationship between coworkers.”

“Thank you captain” I sighed “can I just go back to the …..?”

“Absolutely not. Despite everything you need to act nice towards our new colleague. Or at least, appropriately. And that requires meeting him”

“Believe me, I already had the pleasure” I mumbled almost inaudibly

“What were you saying?”

“Nothing. Sorry boss.”

“Good. Here he comes apparently.”

Fuck! He did not change a thing. Maybe brazened a little bit but apart from that he still got those messy, soft hair, smart, glistening eyes and straight posture. His energy was buzzing and it did not take my powers to see and fell that. I could not help the slightest blush that came onto my face.

“Changing your mind already, my dear?”” Amanda smirked at me “he is hot, isn’t he?”

I simply stayed silent since I couldn’t really deny and agreeing was not an option. At this moment I wished I could just turn invisible. Oh, wait….. Everyone was so busy with the introduction, captain Anders included that this might as well work out. I took a step back, towards the door to test the waters. No one noticed, so I took another one and then another and another. And just as I was about to cross the threshold Dick’s super-sensing made him turn head in my direction. It was …. Well, I don’t even know how to describe it. The way light froze in his eyes, but his facial expression did not change. The way his pupils dilated as he saw me, showing so many different emotions ranging from disbelief, though surprise, guilt and pain. It was physically hurting me, feeling all the same as he did. It was mere seconds before we both regained our cool attitude. Years of training made our reflexes and adapting abilities better than most people. He got back to greeting his teammates and I fled back to my safe space, my glass cage, controlling my breath and heartbeat in desperate need of something to focus on.   However, I couldn’t stop wondering what will his next move be.

***

He didn’t come to see me. Obviously, I did not come to see him either. Like I mentioned my lab was on the other side of the floor so most likely he got too invested in whatever case was assigned to him to take any sightseeing tour. Was this a relief? Yes. Really. But for how long?

***

He broke three days later. I was sitting in front of the files and samples with headphones off but I still heard the knocking and instantly knew. Everyone else just busted through the door.

“Come in, detective” I sighed turning around.

“Are you hiding from me?” he cut straight to the chase

“Is that even possible? Given all you can do? All your trained skills?”

“YN….” He sighed and plumped down onto the chair next to me

“Sorry.“ I mumbled looking down “been a while. How you’ve been?” I tried acting cool, keeping all my questions at bay. Are you just passing by? Are you on a mission? Are still with…

“Small talk, YN?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I was just trying to be warm and welcoming, but might as well go big right ahead. Why are you here?”

“I quit.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I quit being Robin.”

“What happened?”

“I was becoming too much like Bruce. And I never wanted that. So I….”

“run away?” I asked eyeing him carefully

“yes.”

“Seems like we have something in common.”

“You had different motives for that.”

“I guess. But the results turned out to be the same.” I hesitated before speaking again “are you going to stay?”

“I left almost right after you. ” He spoke at the same time and it made us both go silent

“Um…. Do you need any help with your cases?” I swiftly changed the subject but it was already awkward.

“I might, if you are willing to give me a hand. Everyone speaks so highly of you.”

“It’s just the job, Dick. I try to do my best.”

“You always did.”

“Apparently not good enough in some matters.” I just couldn’t stop my bitterness and reminiscence of the past from getting out.

“I’m sorry.” He said after a while

“I know. The past is in the past.” I was terrible liar and he knew that “how can I help you? With work of course?”

 

***

It’s been a couple of weeks during which we worked together a couple of times. It was strange at first but soon this tension between us just went off and we were able to work without any inhibitions. It was clear to see he has changed. Definitely trying his best to not be like Bruce and move past all the aggression and pain he was raised with. So yeah, we were back to being friends or at least working it out this way. That was until a very special and very scared girl showed up at the precinct.

“YLN, there’s a call for you.” My solitary work was interrupted by fellow detective named Anderson

“Is it urgent?” I frowned, not used to being summoned this way.

“Apparently. Otherwise no one would dare interrupting you.”

“Who’s in need?”

“Grayson.”

“I’m not even surprised.” I sighed “I’ll pick it here if you don’t mind” I motioned him towards the door and he was quick to get out “What’s up Grayson?”

“YN, I might need a bit of your help in the interrogation room.”

“Interrogation room? I think you are mistaking my roles in this office, Dick. Unless….” I cleared one’s throat “who’s help are you seeking exactly?”

“I think you already know.”

“No.”

“YN….”

“No, Dick. We’ve talked about this. I gave up that part of me.”

“Did you?” he mocked

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Look YN, I’ve got a kid…..”

“Well then congratulations daddy” I could almost feel his blood boil at this word.

“Stop it! She’s scared. There’s something …. Different about her. I’ve never seen her before and she knew about the circus and the accident and all the history….. YN, I really need your help here.”

“What’s her name” I sighed standing up and getting ready to get to the second floor where the girl was.

“Rachel.”

“I’m on my way. But I don’t like it, Dick. At all.”

 

***

“Rachel?” I walked through the door where black-dressed teenager was sitting

“Are you Dick’s friend?” she looked at me with eyes filled with terror

“That’s the word he used?” I smirked “I guess you can say something like that. He mentioned some…. things about you…..”

“There’s something inside me….” She shook in fear

“Ok. We can work that out” I felt so much pain and struggle coming from inside ���I’ll help you. We will help you.”

“How?” she looked me straight in the eyes “I don’t think you can do this.”

I sighed. Rachel was clearly something more than human. More like…. Me. But how do I explain to her the range of my abilities without compromising my work here. Been there, done that. Once you start again it’s like an addiction creeping inside your mind and craving more. Damn you, Grayson! You couldn’t just leave me be.

“Give me your hand, will you?” I put my palm forward but she was hesitant to grab it “don’t worry, you won’t hurt me. I know how to protect myself, ok? You have to trust me on this.”

The girl just nodded and gently touched my hand. None of us expected what happened later. Sudden splurge of invisible energy made us both gasp in pain. It was only a couple of seconds but I felt everything that was inside her coming at me and drowning me in. I immediately put an internal force field to save myself from being consumed but damn it was harder than everything I ever dealt with before. I could also sense she saw something about me.

“What just happened?” her eyes was wide with fear

“What did you see?” I panted breaking the contact “how much?”

“A couple years in the past. You and Dick and how you used your powers…..”

“Please keep it to yourself, will you?”

“Sure. What did you see?”

“I felt. What’s inside you is bigger than we can deal with ourselves. I will help you, Rachel, I promise. Just…. Stay here for a while, ok? I’ll get Dick and we will figure the rest out.”

“Please don’t leave me here” she sobbed

“Rachel, hey, don’t crack. What we are dealing with is not normal, but in case you didn’t notice neither am I. We will work it out.”

“Promise?”

“Pinky promise” I smirked “that’s still a thing, right?”

“Yes” finally the faintest of smiles showed on her face.

“Good. I thought I was getting out of touch with teenage slang. Wait here, I will put a force field on, all right. No one will hurt you.” I turned towards the door

“YN?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

I just nodded without a word. Now, I had a problem. And by saying I, I meant Dick had a problem as well.  

to be continued

@somest1 @pinksirensong @deadpoolgirl23 @bearly-koalafied @vanessa-boo @shadowmarvelartist

[puella-peanut]

Is kreese an air marshal because that would be perfect lmao. bet he shows favoritism to daniel. dollface this and primadonna that. doesn't he call him little danny in the show

Oooo! So I’m guessing this is in the Daniel-is-a-flight attendant-verse from here, right Anon? Okay, let’s take the Silverusso entirely out of the equation, and change it up to LaKreese. Now we’re talking!

Okay, so first off I’m kinda loving the idea of Kreese as an Air Marshal? He’d make an excellent one being ex-military; he's got that tough as steel demeanor (seriously, Kreese looks like he eats nails for breakfast and he's never been proven not to), and of course he’s more than physically capable, and would remain calm and cool under pressure. He’d probably also enjoy beating troublemakers into a Kreese-induced-pulp and then some. And he’d look damn good doing it too in that Marshal uniform

As for showing favoritism to Daniel—what ever do you mean, Anon? 

Like...making sure Daniel gets his favorite window seat in the Crew Cabin? If Kreese has gotta bully someone to get it he will—but only because he can’t stand sulkers and that Jersey brat is a master of sulking. What, he’s doing everyone a favor!

Or how Kreese pockets certain pastries from the dining cart that he knows the boy likes (kid’s got a sweet tooth and a half), and then gruffly offers them to Daniel by telling him he’s a scrawny punk, what, you want someone to take advantage of that Prima Donna? And he’ll hold them outta reach, enjoying Daniel’s struggle to grab ‘em, the way that pout looks on his annoying face, how he’s gotta rise up on his toes—

Maybe on a long flight Kreese accidentally-on-purpose places the best blankets and nicest pillows on Daniel’s bunk (glaring at anyone who dares remove them or questions his...motives), and when Daniel confronts him about this, he keeps a stoic, grumpy face and tells him to stop being a diva, kid. If you don’t get a good night’s rest, that’ll just mean extra work for the rest of us. Gotta pull your weight around here like I do and did when I was in the service—

And maybe Daniel rolls his eyes at the "reprimand" and cheekily salutes with a “yes Captain!”, and then innocently saunters away, leaving Kreese gritting his teeth together, and shoving his hands in his pockets before he does something stupid like push the tantalizing little brat against the nearest wall and—

...Anyway, of course he’s sweet on Daniel, Anon, but in typical Kreese fashion, he goes about it assbackwards, like that kid in elementary school that is mean to another kid simply because they kinda-sorta like the kid, okay! He eases up later on, but at the start especially he’s gruff and rough and mean. A crotchety bear (but Daniel’s never been afraid of the woods, or what resides in them and and he’s got plenty of honey anyways).

...Still, despite the honey, Daniel gives as good as he gets, and isn’t one to back down, sassy little shit that he is—and Kreese loves that about him, that sweet fire, that mouthy temperament. All that saucy brattiness that’s never really mean, but always ridiculously charming—and coupled with that pretty face? That floppy hair? That tight little body? Oh, it was over for Kreese the second that kid stumbled into his life.

Because that’s how they met, Anon, didn’t you know? 

Kreese had just gotten up from his seat, luggage in hand all ready to board—when he felt something hit his back, and heard the oomph as whatever it was fell down. Or would have, had Kreese not reached out quick as can be, grabbed a scrawny arm, and hauled a small figure upright again. He was gonna give the kid, the boy, a piece of his mind (who the fuck runs in the airport? you want people to think you’re up to something?), maybe frighten the little shit into a major attitude reset—(something modern society desperately needed, but let’s save that Kreese-complaint for another time okay).

Anyway:

But—the kid started babbling a I’m sorry, first day on the job, stuck in traffic, running late, couldn’t find my ticket can you believe that, Jeeze!, and I forgot which gate I had to go to, and god this airport is so big, not like the one back home that I had to drive twice past to see it, my name’s Daniel LaRusso by the way, hi, hello, and—

Kreese had been overwhelmed. Utterly. The rapid fire words, the East Coast accent (Jersey? Bronx?), the hands on the hips, the friendly demeanor. The way those big dark eyes looked up at him, how a dimple would appear near that generous mouth when certain words were said. He couldn’t have been much more than twenty, all small and sure of himself.

And then the kid—this Daniel—had apologized for the last time, and smiled up at him (fuck, that smile), and hurried away on surprisingly long legs to board the same flight that Kreese had been about to before getting hit by this unexpected Italian...thunderbolt.

And Kreese stood there like a damn fool, having not got a single word in whatsoever, not even his name (why’d that bother him so much anyway?). He’d stood there for so long that the last calls for boarding were already in full force before he made his way onboard, half-angry at himself, moreso at the kid. But he found his seat in the back, and shoved his carry-on in the compartment above, and had just buckled himself in when he saw a dark-head bobbing down the aisle like there were springs in his feet. 

And Daniel had checked on the passengers row by row with that easygoing friendliness, and then finally looked up from where he was helping an old lady nearby, and grinned John’s way, brushing his dark floppy bangs out of his face (god, the fucking eyes on this kid!) and—

—Kreese actually groaned to himself. 

Well. 

Fuck. 

...Anyway Anon, as for calling him Danny on the show, I can’t remember if he ever does? That’s such a Terry term of endearment, not a Kreese one. Let’s double check with @yenforfairytales just to be sure! What's your take, Yen?

Anyway, Kreese wouldn’t call him Danny in LaKreese land—but Prima Donna? Absolutely, it’s that perfect blend of condescending, teasing, and affectionate—and after Kreese gets over that toxic part of himself that is mean to Daniel because he can’t admit that he’s fallen for the kid—the condescending aspect is entirely removed. 

If Betsy is a part of Kreese’s past, then no Dollface, that’s her name and always will be. Names are important to Kreese, okay! But if not...maybe, on occasion. But I think Kreese much prefers Princess over that for Daniel. His bratty spitfire New Jersey boy. 

(And Daniel does slip and call him Captain—especially when he knows Kreese’ll rail him extra good for his sauciness.) That’s how Kreese finds he’s an unexpected member of the mile high club. Maybe a premium member too.

What?

It’s all the damn kid’s fault!

[escapaldi]

So… I followed you a long time ago, and then I left tumblr. I can’t remember if we interacted much back then, but since you’re also active here I have to ask: what did you think about the specials as a Capaldi fan?

Hello! I know I've seen your name around before, so welcome back! Even when I wasn't posting on this blog specifically, I was still on tumblr posting fic and stuff, so even though there is a gap I've always been here.

Now, as far as the 60th anniversary specials: I haven't watched them and don't plan to for a long time. A long-winded and salty rant by me is under the cut.

To be honest, I haven't felt the need to watch any new Doctor Who since Capaldi and Moffat both left because it all sounded like boring and cringey fan fiction (derogatory) I wasn't really jiving with. If that makes sense? Then RTD came back on as a showrunner and I was severely disappointed because it felt like such a step backwards. Plus that Tennant was going to be in it? No thanks.

Like... I get that to a lot of people, his return makes these specials "feel like Doctor Who again". I've seen that statement a lot from both randos and people I know. Which, fine, whatever, I'm not begrudging people for it, but for a lot of folks saying that, the statement includes a bunch of the show that doesn't feel like Doctor Who to me. I came in w/s5 because of a series of events that turned me off to the show early on. I was nearly sixteen when s1 premiered in the UK. That should have stuck me in the prime demographic to not only love s1-4, but have a sort of nostalgia filter over it to help facilitate excitement over the 60th specials. Well, there's some problems with that.

I can't stand Rose Tyler and any reference to her as something positive makes me cringe. Doctor/Rose in any form makes me viscerally nope out of anything. She was not as likeable as people lead others to believe.

I've been Pavloved into disliking Tennant due to the oversaturation of his interpretation of the Doctor in the series and the fandom as a whole, despite the fact he's just meh. The Doctor is not his best role and in general he doesn't do it for me in the looks department, especially as the Doctor. Which, it's fine if you like watching him (I'm sure Georgia loves watching him and she is a very good sport about a lot of shit) and I know my DW experience has been enhanced by watching the pretty but I am a demographic outlier lol.

What I did see of s1-4 before I got into s5 was Rose being an idiot, getting a deeply unsettling feeling over Jack Harkness, being pissed off for Martha and Mickey and livid about Donna, being irritated by the Master and the angsty space Jesus shite, and thinking Ten and Donna would make a good couple actually.

Oh yeah, and very specifically I'm mad because I watched The End of Time Part 2, like, almost soon as I could, and knew immediately that Martha/Mickey was Pair the Spares Race Edition even though at that point I hadn't watched all of s1-4 and for all I knew they hit it off in an unseen-by-me episode for a reason that wasn't getting drunk over their mid-tier white exes hooking up. Like, I clocked that shit back in 2009. There was a lot of shit I was not clocking in 2009, but I caught onto that, which should be an embarrassment.

...and, like, I'm on the internet, so I've seen spoilers. It's difficult to not see spoilers. Some of the spoilers I love to see hello Fifteen's THIGHS we love us a good slutty Doctor and I do have one UK-based friend specifically whom I've talked to at length about the specials. My fiancé also has been watching this entire time w/o stopping since 2005 (bc he caught it all as it premiered here in the US and at least he got to watch s1 Billie Piper; I fault him for nothing), so he's been giving me updates on what's going on as well. He is a good man who has done saintly things like drive me across three state lines to meet Peter Capaldi at a Doctor Who convention, so... he's generally trustworthy, but also a lot more forgiving than I am. But he was also the one who broke to me the news about Rose Noble because he knew I'd get upset that she's not Donna Jr. So I've got some good fonts of information. They tell me that I'd like the second and third more than the first, that we've just got some extra Ten-Donna adventures, and that generally everything's stepped up a bit from Thirteen.

...but to me, a step up from Thirteen is still not a step towards where we need to go.

You can't go from Eleven and Twelve, an ancient eldritch god trapped in a body with the grace of a baby giraffe and a legit punk who punches diamond walls for his wife and racists for his daughter, respectively, to a Tory apologist who never really got a scary "I am the Doctor and you're stuck here with me now what a shame :)" moment like Nine through Twelve got and think that "a step up" from that is going to catch me. I'm not enticed by the prospect of another Ten-Donna adventure done by the man whose writing and showrunning kept me away from Doctor Who for so long. I. could. not. care. less. There is literally no nostalgia filter making this okay to me. I cannot see what other people see.

I don't want to be an anti, I don't want to be a NMD, but they keep pushing my fucking hand and now I'm sitting here having not watched new episodes of what is literally one of my favorite shows since before the pandemic, watching from an arm's length as it sort of caves in around itself, going and absolutely pissing away their chances at having a really cool, massive-multi-Doctor bonanza like no other. You could have twelve Doctors. TWELVE DOCTORS. Eleven if our most venerable just kinda taps out like nah I'm done unless you give me Bill's job from the Three Doctors special. Like, the fuck, y'all. That got whizzed right down the fucking leg. Did they even try? Did they get rebuffed? Whose decision was the 60th specials? Do they even like Doctor Who? Or are they part of the set that thought that Tennant's Doctor would never be topped?

So... yeah... that's the gist of it. I'm sure it's gonna take being sat down for a marathon by Mr. Nehs before I get into Doctor Who again, which is honestly sad. The BBC has hated this show and been visibly trying to run it into the ground since they decided to make the divisive decision of casting Matt Smith (which worked out great in the long run but having been on the internet at the time as that announcement I can assure you it was not received well) and now they've got Mouse Bucks and some straight-up boring as sin seasons/series under their belts and idk what in the hell's coming for us now.

[what-gs-watching]

“I really do remember though…every second with you."

So I’m in the last week of my bootcamp and I have a couple of job interviews this week and things are going I guess BUT my brain doesn’t really care about any of that.

Because Y’ALL. I’m still 1000000% inside the first episode of the Doctor Who 60th Anniversary specials. I’ve been waiting for this since I saw the first trailer in like September and David Tennant has been constantly on my mind and it was just everything. All the things. 

Wherein, after the 13th doctor regenerates into THE 10TH DOCTOR’S OLD FACE, he lands in London obviously and immediately runs into none other than Donna Noble, his very best friend in the entire universe who absolutely cannot remember him because if she does, she’ll very quickly die.

They did an  intro into the episode that explained the whole backstory which was a little forced and cheesy  but I get it, not everyone is insane enough to have just rewatched all of 10’s episodes just because this was coming (though they should be). 

I’m gonna admit I had no idea what the episode was supposed to be about other than reuniting some of my two favorite characters in the whole wide world, and I’m glad I didn’t. It was definitely a traditional Doctor Who romp: aliens crash land on earth, UNIT gets involved,  one alien faction is going after another alien faction, Donna’s family ends up in the center of it, they need to figure out a way to keep London from getting destroyed.

Ya know, the usual. 

The thing I’m here for, friends, is David Tennant becoming a new version of his own doctor because that’s fascinating, while still absolutely painted into his skinny suit (which is so Crowley somehow), and catharsis. All the catharsis.

After watching his entire run again, I stand behind the opinion that Donna got the worst deal of all the companions. Rose got to keep her Doctor human clone, Martha ended up with Mickey, but Donna had literally EVERYTHING ripped from her. Can you imagine the size of the hole the Doctor would leave in your subconscious after being removed? Like, how do you manage any kind of life after that?

But she did. She’s got a husband, and a kid, and she donated almost all of her lottery winnings while dealing with what I can imagine is an overwhelming, horrible sense of loss. Humans can get used to anything. And that thought is kind of devastating.

Which means all I really wanted was to see the two of them together again, and Russell T Davies delivered the goods. 

The Doctor runs into Donna basically immediately after landing in London of course and he learns her daughter’s name is Rose and I can’t get over how many times he shouted “WOT?” in this episode, I always loved 10’s incredulous “WOT!” 

She rambles at him of course and is messing with boxes full of stuff she’s holding so she misses the spaceship very NOTICEABLY crashing to earth because that’s her thing, always missing everything. But she’s ready to go so in true Donna fashion tells him “Nice to meet you, skinny man. Oh, word of advice. You can wear a suit that tight up to the age of 35, and no further.” Baby girl is still herself, and she’s ruthless, and I love it.

 After the Doctor follows the ‘crashed’ spaceship, he runs into a scientist from UNIT who is holding herself together insanely well considering she’s stumbled upon the doctor, and he tells her that all of this is swirling around Donna of course and he says “she was my best friend in the whole wide universe. I absolutely love her” and then he’s surprised that popped out of his mouth because you know 10 was never going to admit to that so thoroughly, and these are the interactions I need in my life.

Here’s the situation gang: I absolutely love a love story. I really do. If my Good Omens fixation is anything to go by. But I also really love a good, solid, perfect friendship. Two people challenging each other and accepting each other and just being on the exact right wavelength. I’ve had some terrible friends in my life, and so beautiful positive depictions  cut right to my heart. Which means I’m really here just for the two of them being those amazing friends again.

Meanwhile, Donna’s daughter finds one of the rogue aliens, AKA The Meep, which I found to be HELLA creepy, like everyone was all ‘aw it’s cute’ but nah y’all, I knew that motherfucker wasn’t cute. But just like her mother, she wants to help and she brings The Meep into her little shed in their backyard because obviously, and it all takes a turn.

The other aliens that were apparently pursuing The Meep show up, and Donna catches wind that there’s a martian in her house (I love it, everything is always a martian, she’s my favorite) and her mother, bless her, tries hard to make Donna ignore the entire situation because she cannot remember, but it doesn’t matter, the Doctor crashes in anyway.

I also love that she was instantly annoyed with him, still calling him “skinny man”  and wondering why the hell he was following her. And he does kind of try to extricate himself from her and her family but of course it was never gonna go that way.

So the UNIT soldiers have been overtaken by some weird light they found in the spaceship and they come to the house to start attacking and the other aliens are there to also attack and the Doctor’s gotta get everyone out, of course. They do some ridiculous trek through the attics in the attached rowhouses to try to get out to the car parked nearby. Miraculous escape, always! 

Also why am I weirdly all about the Doctor driving the car? I was like ‘yes’ but maybe that’s just a residue Bentley thing, who knows. The point is, he takes them to an underground garage and the other aliens tracking The Meep show up and TWIST, we find out The Meep lied about his backstory while the Doctor wears a ridiculous barrister wig he pulled from his jacket. Turns out The Meep is absolutely crazy because the sun his planet orbited went…psychedelic? Don’t look too much at what’s going on with that whole story, it’s fine, just go with it. 

So The Meep tries to attack! And the Doctor jumps to cover Donna and the dosed up UNIT soldiers show up and everyone is taken hostage and brought back to where the spaceship is being repaired. The Meep wants to eat them, or something? Because sure. The teeth they put on that thing, woooof. I knew that asshole was trouble from the get.

Turns out The Meep plans to escape in the ship and to do so he basically has to burrow under London which will obliterate the entire city. Surprise!

Not to worry about that though, the Doctor and the UNIT scientist create a scenario wherein Donna, her husband, Rose and the grandmother can all get away and the Doctor will handle this situation on his own, thanks. But Donna’s brain kicks in, and she says she has to help him, even if she doesn’t know why. 

She follows him into the ship. And he’s like ‘nah girl you gotta get outta here’ but she’s not having that of course, because that’s her. He tried to shake her a few times the very first time they met and he never could. It’s that friendship pull.

The point is, he’s trying to disable the ship himself but there’s a lot of buttons to press and he has to do a lot of weird shit (again, don’t pay attention to the crazy dialogue of the things he’s saying he’s doing) and then a separator comes down and splits the room they’re in, the Doctor on one side and Donna on the other. And he’s still trying to protect her. He knows they could stop the ship together, but he’d need her, all of her, to do it. 

He tells her that if she helps him, she’ll die. And she just says “okay.” She says her daughter’s down there, and 9 million other people, so who cares about her? And now we’re into what I was waiting for, he’s yelling “I DO!” She says she’s just no one and he emphatically tells her she’s not, and he screams

“WHY DOES IT HAVE TO BE THIS?!”

Anyone else crying yet? No? C’mon. This is when I started crying at the trailer. It’s horribly unfair; he gave her up so she could live her life and he never wanted to involve her again, she’d helped save the fucking world already and 10 never really did get a break really, and here he is back at it as 14 and it’s still just as terrible. 

So he starts saying words. And his poor face. You can see it’s ripping him apart. “Westerly. Pelican. Dreams. Tornado. Clifftops. Andante. Grief. Fingerprint. Susurration.” And then she picks up on it, she says “Sparrow” and he says “Sparrow. Dance. Mexico.” 

And she finishes, “Binary. Binary. Binary.”

In true Donna fashion, as soon as she’s fully aware she starts freaking out at him about giving away her lottery winnings because she was trying to be like him and I love it, there’s a countdown to launch in the background and she doesn’t give a shit, it’s so the two of them but she jumps into action anyway again saying some crazy shit about what she’s doing. He tells her she has 55 seconds to live and she says “55 best seconds of my life” and she flips a bunch of switches and tada, they’ve done it.

The partition comes up in the room and The Meep storms in and Donna collapses in the Doctor’s arms. She asks him why this face had come back and she says “to say goodbye? Good fun though” and she fucking DIES. 

The way he cradles her. Jesus. It’s so tender. And the pure fucking anguish in his face. David Tennant’s face, goddamn. I can’t. 

The Meep is still trying to kill him though using UNIT soldiers and he doesn’t give a shit because he’s been basically foiled by “The DoctorDonna” but then, suddenly, the UNIT soldiers are released from their hold and Donna WAKES UP and everyone is like “WOT!”

And we see Rose, manning the controls outside the ship, brilliant as anything. I love this explanation so much: Donna’s metacrisis was too much for one person, but because she had a child, she passed it down, a “shared inheritance.” Her little shed in their backyard was an errant memory of the TARDIS, she’d been creating little stuffed animal toys of all the creatures Donna and the Doctor had met traveling, she’d chosen her new name herself,  the name of one of the Doctor’s most important companions. They realize, the two of them, Donna and the Doctor are binary, but Rose is not because 

“The Doctor is male…and female….and neither. And more.”

IT’S SO FUCKING CUTE. And perfect. And I love it. She had timelord energy strumming through her, her entire life, and it made her feel weird and different but also made her amazingly unique and wonderful. 

And then, to top it off, the Doctor tells them he still needs to heal them of the crisis because it may be slowed down, but it won’t stop. And Rose and her mother just scoff at him. They know exactly what to do. They just let it go. Because they’re incredible.

And I love all of this so far. But I cannot lie, my favorite part of the entire episode is when the Doctor convinces her to take a ride in the TARDIS so they can go visit Wilf. They go inside, and of course the TARDIS has changed again and I’m not gonna lie, it’s probably my favorite design so far. The Doctor freaks out about it, and Donna tries to be nonchalant but she finally admits “it’s GORGEOUS!” and the happy fucking look between the two of them, the Doctor is bouncing, he’s bouncy Crowley. And then he starts racing around the place, running up and down the different levels and honestly that just made me cry harder.

10 was always so sad, I always wanted that boy to be happy and maybe he was a little bit but everything was always so serious but now he’s been able to resolve probably his biggest regret and that’s such a gift. Which I think is gonna make it even harder for him to let go, a second time. I am not excited to watch him leave, again. 

The point is, after he makes her a coffee the way she likes, he says “ I really do remember, though. Every second with you. I'm so glad you're back, cos it killed me, Donna. It killed me, it killed me, it killed me.” And she deserves to hear that. It was one of the worst things he had to do. And 10 was never going to say it. I’m SO glad 14 got the chance. 

Catharsis. They needed it, I needed it. The Doctor back to a true and familiar form. It’s going to kill me to only have 3 episodes of this, but I’ll take it. As long as I get one last “allons-y!”

[saiilorstars]

Chapter 20: The Stolen Earth

Fandom: Doctor Who

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The TARDIS materialized in the corner of a perfectly normal suburban, London street. The Doctor bolted out from the doors with a panicked expression. Donna and Minerva followed out, both looking around with the Doctor. Everything seemed to be running normally...

"It's fine... everything's fine," the Doctor breathed. If everything was so right then why did he still feel so panicked and not relaxed at all?

"Nothing looks wrong, Doctor," Minerva sighed, "It looks okay to me."

But the Doctor hadn't heard as he was watching a milk-cart trundle down the road, "Excuse me? What day is it?" he called to the man in charge, unaware of the deep sigh Minerva gave behind him.

"Saturday," the milk man called.

"Saturday, good!" he looked back at the women, "Good, I like Saturdays."

"So...I just met Rose Tyler?" Donna looked directly at Minerva, knowing what that meant for the poor brunette. Even now, Minerva was playing the strong facade.

"Yeah," the Doctor was still casting looks everywhere, trying to find at least one thing that was wrong.

"Doctor, you said parallel worlds are sealed off," Minerva spoke up quietly, "Rose is locked away in one of them..."

"So if she can cross from her parallel world to Donna's parallel world, then that means the walls of the universe are breaking down, which puts everything in danger," the Doctor unknowingly finished Minerva's grim thoughts. "Everything. But how?" He hurried back into the TARDIS.

Minerva sighed again and looked at Donna, "Did she say anything about me? Anything bad?"

Donna shook her head, "Not that I remember."

"Well I'm sure she'll have plenty to say when she sees I've taken her love..." Minerva mumbled and stepped inside the TARDIS, mentally preparing herself for that lovely conversation — argument.

Donna followed her in with a sad look cast at the brunette. Inside the TARDIS, the Doctor made a round around the console. Not a moment had passed when the TARDIS suddenly shook and sent the trio to the floor.

"What the hell was that!?" Donna lifted her head up, completely alarmed.

"It came from outside," Minerva pulled herself up while the Doctor dashed for the doors.

The Doctor's eyes widened at the sight beyond the doors. Donna and Minerva hurried up to be on either side of him, also bewildered. There was space beyond the doors with a couple rocks floating here and there.

"We're in space...how did that happen?" Donna raised an eyebrow, "What did you do!?" she then shouted at the Doctor with fear.

The Doctor ignored her and ran back to the console to look at the monitor, his face growing into further confusion, "We haven't moved. We're fixed. It can't have... no," he rushed back to the door to look out again, stunned, "The TARDIS is still in the same place, but the Earth is gone. The entire planet... it's gone!"

~ 0 ~

New York: UNIT Headquarters

Martha Jones laid on the floor, unconscious, surrounded by utter chaos. There were smoking wires, sparks and the shouts of terrified people. Slowly, Martha opened her eyes and lifted her head, "What was that?" she sat up, "Was there some sort of earthquake or...?" she stood up, looking around, "Jalandra, are you all right?"

A fellow employee was taking a breath in at the chaos, "Yeah, I'm okay."

"Is anyone hurt?" Martha called around the room. A woman, Suzanne, crossed over to the windows and pulled up the blinds, "We've lost power, someone get the lights back on - DaCosta, see to it right now," Martha was ordering when she spotted Suzanne, "Suzanne? Are you okay?"

"Martha, look at the sky..." the woman replied shakily, her gaze stuck on what laid on the other side of the windows.

"Why, what is it?" Martha raised an eyebrow.

"Just look at the sky!"

~ 0 ~

Cardiff: Torchwood Hub.

Torchwood was thrown into the same type of chaos as UNIT had, its inhabitants thrown onto the floor.

Jack was clambering to his feet while calling out to the others, "Whoa! What happened? Must be the rift..." he ran out from his office, "Gwen? Ianto? Are you okay?"

Gwen and Ianto were just barely picking their selves up from the floor while taking collection of what had just happened.

"No broken bones... slight loss of dignity. No change there, then," Ianto dusted himself off.

"The whole city must've felt that! The whole of South Wales!" Gwen exclaimed.

"I'm gonna take a look outside..." Jack offered and went to do just that.

As the alarms blared, Jack ran for the doors while Gwen and Ianto went to the computers. Ianto pressed a couple buttons and stared at the screen in disbelief, "Uh, little bit bigger than South Wales," he announced.

~ 0 ~

Ealing, London.

Sarah Jane Smith scrambled to her feet inside her attic, which was completely in chaos as well, "Luke!? Are you alright!?" she ran to where her son Luke was crouched in a corner and pulled him to his feet.

"Felt like some sort of cross-dimensional spatial transference," the boy rambled, still a bit dizzy from the shake.

Sarah Jane noticed the darkness that was coming through the window, "It's night. It wasn't night! It was eight o'clock in the morning! Mr Smith, I need you!" she called and the chimney breast opened up with some fancy introduction music to reveal the computer, Mr. Smith, was, "I wish you'd stop giving me that fanfare and just tell me what happened!"

"Sarah Jane, I think you should look outside. I think you'll find the visual evidence most conclusive."

Sarah Jane rushed to the window and opened up the blinds, her eyes widening at the sight that laid above.

~ 0 ~

Chiswick, London.

Wilf was standing outside the Noble's house, holding a rounders bat, "It's gone dark... it's them aliens, I'll bet my pension," he then shouted at no one in particular, "What do you want this time, you green swine?"

Sylvia had stepped outside and was perturbed by the sight above them, "Dad..."

"You get back inside, Sylvia. They always want the women!"

"No, Dad, just look... oh, my God! Look at the sky!" Sylvia shook her father until he looked up, he immediately clutched her hand in horror.

~ 0 ~

London.

The milkman that had been greeted by the Doctor stood in the street in complete darkness. He was frozen as he stared up at the sky. A wind billowed behind him followed by a buzzing of electricity and a blue flash of light. The milkman looked back to see Rose Tyler appear holding an enormous gun.

Rose looked up at the sky, unperturbed, more like ready, "Right, now we're in trouble," she released the safety latch of her gun, "It's only just beginning..."

The sky contained sinister shades of colors with overlapping planets that were just a bit far too close to Earth.

~ 0 ~

Donna was slowly making a realization while the Doctor worked on the console, "But... if the Earth's been moved... they've lost the sun. "

"Doctor, what about our families?" Minerva moved over to him, "My grandmother, my father...my uncle, Stacey, Cody...are they all dead?"

"I don't know, Minerva. I just don't know. I'm sorry. I don't know," the Doctor helplessly looked at her, seeing Donna wore the same terrified face Minerva did, "I'm really sorry."

"That's our families...our whole world," Donna whispered, heartbroken.

"There's no readings, nothing. Not a trace. Not even a whisper. Oh, that is... fearsome technology," the Doctor scratched the side of his neck, completely stumped.

"So what do we do?" Minerva asked, "We're not going to sit here, are we?"

"We've got to get help."

"From where?" Donna asked.

"Donna, Minerva... I'm taking you to the Shadow Proclamation. Hold tight," he pulled a lever, making the rota rise and fall.

~ 0 ~

Out in the streets of Earth, there was complete anarchy. People ran, screamed, places were thrashed with alarms blaring. Drunk people drove their cars, one with a man hanging out while clutching a bear and shouting to the people they passed. Rose emerged from an alleyway, still holding to her gun, and made her way onto the street.

A drunken man spotted her and opened his arms wide, "The end of the world, darlin'! The end of the stinkin' world!" he cried of drunken delight.

"Have one on me, mate," Rose half-smiled and the man continued on his way. She flinched when she heard a window smash behind her followed by another alarm going off.

She hurried into an electronics shop where she saw two young teens looting everything they could, "Right! You two! You can put that stuff down, or run for your lives," she released the safety catch on her gun once more, the teens eyes widening at the sight, "Do you like my gun?" the teens ran for it and Rose went for a computer, sitting down in front of it with a worried look as she watched the spaceships surround the earth.

~ 0 ~

In Torchwood, Gwen and Ianto watched the spaceships their tech had picked up on loom closer on the model on their computer screen, "Three-thousand miles and closing," Gwen mumbled, agitated, "But who are they?!"

Jack's phone rung and he quickly pulled it out, seeing the caller ID and answered, "Martha Jones! Voice of a nightingale. Tell me you put something in my drink."

Martha was at her desk, a bit breathless after all the work, "No such luck. Have you heard from the Doctor or Minerva?"

"Not a word. Where are you?"

"New York."

"Hm, nice for some."

"Yeah, well, right now I pretty much wish I was back in San Diego..." Martha mumbled, knowing just how Minerva's family must be with concern, especially if they couldn't get ahold of her or the Doctor, "I was promoted, finally, Medical Director on Project Indigo."

Jack's cheerful face faltered at those words, "Did you get that thing working?"

"Indigo's top secret. No-one's supposed to know about it," Martha frowned.

"Oh, I met a soldier in a bar. Long story," Jack shrugged.

"When was that?" Ianto interjected suspiciously, already eyeing Jack.

"Strictly professional," Jack assured.

"Fifteen-hundred miles, boys, and accelerating. They're almost here," Gwen called.

~ 0 ~

"I'm receiving communication from the Earthbound ships. A message for the human race," Mr. Smith announced for Sarah Jane.

"Put it through. Let's hear it," Sarah Jane stood forwards.

"Exterminate! Exterminate! Exterminate!"

And then she took a step back...

~ 0 ~

Jack opened his mouth to remark when he heard the message too...

"Exterminate!"

Martha turned at the voices, her eyes widening.

"Exterminate!"

"No," Jack mumbled.

"Exterminate! Exterminate!"

He trembled, "Oh, no..."

"What is it? Who are they? Do you know them, Jack?" Gwen asked, but received no answer.

Instead, Jack pulled both Gwen and Ianto into a hug, kissing both of their heads as they listened tot he awful voices.

"Exterminate! Exterminate! Exterminate!"

~ 0 ~

"Exterminate! Exterminate!"

Luke stood in confusion while Sarah Jane shook with terror and with tears on her face.

"Exterminate! Exterminate! Exterminate!"

"No..." she whispered.

~ 0 ~

Jack's eyes riveted at the monitor, holding onto Ianto and Gwen tight, no hope anymore, "There's nothing I can do. I'm sorry, but we're dead."

~ 0 ~

"Exterminate! Exterminate!"

Sarah Jane clutched Luke while she sobbed, "Oh, God you're- you're so young."

~ 0 ~

Rose had also picked up on the transmission of the Daleks and shivered only slightly, fear spurring inside but not with shock. She stood up and left the store. Outside, there was a Dalek ship that flew so low it was practically skimmed the rooftops, its missiles firing down to the streets. Rose turned away just as a missile struck behind her which caused an enormous explosion...and yet she did not show an ounce of emotion at it.

~ 0 ~

The TARDIS shook violently, even more than usual, making Donna and Minerva cling onto the console for dear life while the Doctor tried to operate the controls with one hand.

"So, go on then - what is the Shadow Proclamation, anyway?" Donna called.

"It's a stupid way of saying 'police'," Minerva rolled her eyes, "An outer space police."

"Here we go!" the Doctor exclaimed.

The TARDIS gave one last lurch which sent the Doctor to the floor on his back. Minerva sighed and peered over, "You okay, Martian?"

"Just...fine," he sat up and with the help of her, stood up.

Cautiously, the Doctor emerged out of the TARDIS first, Donna and Minerva following slowly. They were greeted by a group of Judoon with pointed guns at them, the trio immediately raised their hands in surrender.

"Sco po tro no flow jo ko fo to to," one of the Judoon spoke.

"No bo ho so ko ro toe so," the Doctor replied.

Donna blinked and looked at Minerva for some kind of explanation. Minerva just made a tired face and shook her head. There were plenty of things Minerva had on her mind and learning the Judoon language was not one of those things.

"Bo-ko-do-zo-go-bo-fo-po-jo!" the Doctor finished up, and the guns were lowered, "Ma ho."

~ 0 ~

The trio now spoke to the Shadow Architect in a room guarded with Judoon, "Time Lords are the stuff of legend. They belong in the myths and whispers of the Higher Species. You cannot possibly exist," the architect studied the Doctor.

"Can we please get onto the fact that we have a planet missing?" Minerva asked, well more demanded. She had zero patience of the usual nosnense strangers threw at them.

"Who is the female?" the architect's eyes narrowed at the brunette.

But Minerva was frankly in no mood for a condescending look. Her grandmother, her father, her uncle, her friends, were on Earth which was currently missing and this woman was asking who the hell she was? "I am Minerva, also known as, Kaeya, princess of the Silver Monsoon now let's get to business!"

The architect did her best not to show her surprise of the attitude she received from the woman. "The Moontsays are an extinct species."

"You might want to check your records again, lady," a different voice called from the end of the room, making everyone look back, "Because we are more than alive, we are outraged," Zohar strolled inside the room with a young man behind her.

"What the hell are you doing here?" the Doctor asked the black-haired woman with confusion, "And who the hell is he?" he pointed to the man behind her.

"How'd you get past the rhinos?" Donna was curious and just had to ask.

"I speak Judoon," Zohar flashed a grin, looking at the architect, "There was a lot of time we Moontsays had on our hands after we survived the war."

"Zohar, to business, please," the young man reminded in a hushed tone.

"Oh yes," Zohar clapped her hands together and leaned forwards, "We have a missing planet on our hands, where is it?" Her smile had exchanged for a demanding scowl at her demand.

"You mean Earth?" Minerva raised an eyebrow.

"No, she means my planet," the young man corrected, serious, "Nix Terra has gone missing and I'd like to know where it is."

"Nix Terra is where the Moontsays reside," Zohar explained calmly, "Prince Nerio and I were just above the planet, getting ready to return home after a meeting when the planet just...moved."

The architect looked from one another, seeing no point in delaying the story, "The picture is far bigger than any of you imagine. The whole universe is in outrage: twenty-four worlds have been taken from the sky."

"How many?" the Doctor incredulously looked at her, "Which ones? Show me!" he ran over to the computer and quickly put his glasses on.

"The locations range far and wide. They all disappeared at the exact same moment, leaving no trace," the architect showed him.

The Doctor frowned as he read off the different planets that had been stolen, "Callufrax Minor, Jahoo, Shallacatop, Woman Wept, Clom - Clom's gone?! Who'd want Clom?"

"Don't think this is the time to insult planets, dear," Minerva crossed her arms and gave him a look.

"Sorry," he quickly returned to business.

"The planets are different sizes," Minerva took notice of the hologram's details, "Are all of these populated?"

"No," the architect shook her head.

"Connected species?"

"No."

"They're all unconnected."

"What about Pyrovilia?" Donna suddenly asked.

"And who are you?" the architect asked, tired of the newcomers in general.

"Donna. I'm a Human Being. Maybe not the stuff of legend, but every bit as important as Time Lords, Moontsays, and..." the ginger cast a look to the prince, "Sorry I don't know what you're called," she looked back at the architect, "But my point stands, thank you very much."

"That's my ginger sister," Minerva whispered, smiling proudly at her.

"Way back when we were in Pompeii, Lucius said Pyrovillia had gone missing," Donna turned to the Doctor.

"Pyrovillia is cold case. Not relevant," a Judoon said.

"How do you mean, 'cold case'?" she insisted.

"The planet Pyrovilia cannot be part of this, it disappeared over two-thousand years ago."

"Yes, but there was also the Adipose breeding planet," Minerva reminded, "Miss Foster said it was also lost, but it was also a long time ago..."

"That's it! Donna, Minerva, brilliant as ever! Truly sisters! The planets have been taken out of time as well as space," the Doctor tampered with the computer, "Let's put this into 3D," a hologram of the missing planets appeared throughout the room, "Now, if we add Pyrovilia..." he added the planet which then appeared on the hologram, "And Adipose 3..." the second planet was added, "There's something missing. Where else, where else, where else, lost, lost, lost, lost...?"

"The Lost Moon of Poosh," Minerva stated.

"Clever Girl," he pointed at her then quickly added the planet.

"I knew planets couldn't just be lost," she sighed, "I mean, how do you misplace something the size of a...well, planet?"

The Doctor walked among the planets which then rearranged themselves.

"What did you do?" the architect asked, startled.

"Nothing. The planets rearranged themselves into the optimum pattern," the Doctor looked at the new arrangement with appreciation, "Oh... look at that. Twenty-seven planets in perfect balance. Come on, that is gorgeous!"

Minerva moved over to him, a sad smile on her face, "Can we please focus though? Not only is my human family gone but my species too."

"Sorry," he made a face and focused again, "All those worlds fit together like pieces of an engine. It's like a power house. But what for?"

"Who would design such a thing?" the prince asked, reminding them all that he and Zohar still stood with them.

"Someone tried to move the Earth once before. A long time ago..." the Doctor trailed off, getting lost in thoughts, "Can't be..."

~ 0 ~

Jack rushed to a computer as an alarm blared, a voice filtering through the communications.

"The shields are down! There's so many of them! Abandon ship!"

"The Valiant's down!" Jack stared in horror.

"Airforce retreating over North Africa! Daleks landing in Japan," Ianto called.

"We've lost contact with the Prime Minister's plane," Gwen added, "Jack, Manhattan!"

Jack quickly grabbed his phone which still held open the line with Martha, "Martha, get out of there."

Martha was wrapping a bandage around an employee's head when Jack's message came in. "I can't, Jack, I've got a job to do."

"They're targeting military bases, and you're next on the list."

General Sanchez stood behind Martha when he called for her, "Doctor Jones - you will come with me. Project Indigo is being activated," Martha stood up, stunned, "Quick march."

Martha and the general, along with a soldier, walked through a set of double doors and down a corridor in a brisk walk.

"But we can't use Project Indigo. It hasn't been tested, sir, we don't even know if it works!" Martha tried to reason, she knew the panic was up to a maximum but this was something big, something dangerous.

A soldier turned a wheel on a door which opened up to a secure storage safe. General Sanchez gestured to a body pack that hung on the wall, "Put it on. Fast as you can."

Martha moved over to it but stopped when she heard Jack's voice on her phone, "Martha, I'm telling you - don't use Project Indigo, it's not safe!"

"You take your orders from UNIT, Doctor Jones, not from Torchwood," the general snapped.

"But why me?" she had to ask as she put the bodypack on.

"You are our only hope of finding the Doctor. But failing that... if no help is coming... then by the power invested in me by the Unified Intelligence Taskforce, I authorize you to take this," he held to Martha digital microchip encased in plastic, "The Osterhagen Key."

"I can't take that, sir," she shook her head, fearfully staring at the key.

"You know what to do. For the sake of the Human Race," he brandished it on her anyways. He closed Martha's fingers around it and gave her a nod.

"Daleks one five breaching north corridor. Exterminate! Exterminate, exterminate!"

"Doctor Jones..." the general saluted to her, "Good luck," and he and the soldier turned to face the approaching the Dalek.

"Bye, Jack," Martha called weakly.

"Martha, don't do it!" he shouted.

Martha shut her eyes tightly and pulled the chords on the sides of her bodypack and disappeared with a blue light.

~ 0 ~

Donna sat on the stairs and wiped a tear off her face. Everyone except for her were across the room looking into a computer, seemingly lost. Donna wiped another loose tear from her face then stared straight ahead for some reason...the noises around her fading away...and a beating of a heart rising...

A small wind billowed in front of her, making her flinch but smiled when she saw the blue light floating in front of her.

"I see you've made friends with her," Zohar walked over, surprising Donna.

"Sort of...it's been following me for a while, now."

"You know, I think it's chosen you, then," Zohar looked said, a small knowing-smile on her face that Donna wasn't aware of.

"Chosen? For what?"

Zohar shrugged, "Don't know. She won't say. But she's chosen you for something."

Donna looked at the light for a second, tilting her head. What could this light possibly want from her?

"Can I please have a cup of water?" Minerva asked a nearby servant, "I'm really thirsty."

"Minerva?" the Doctor called, holding her water bottle, "Here!"

She caught the bottle as it was thrown and nodded her thanks before heading over to Donna and Zohar. She removed the cap off and proceeded to drink a large amount of water.

Zohar watched with a slight pride, "You know, if you're drinking a lot of water it's because you're almost done now," Minerva made a face as she swallowed and put the lid back on her bottle, "Moontsays need a lot of water in their bodies as part of our biological code and abilities."

"You mean that stupid chipped ice on my nails? That's not fun," Minerva shook her head.

"You'll get used to it, when you learn to control your abilities again it'll be no problem."

"Yeah, I'd really rather not talk about a future where both my human family and actual species are missing."

"You really care for us, don't you?" Zohar asked, her proud smile spreading.

"Of course," Minerva shrugged, "Why wouldn't I? I'm lucky that there were survivors of my home. Of course I'll care. But you know what I don't care for? Your friend that keeps staring at me," she nodded discreetly back to the men and the architect.

"He's a prince," Zohar corrected, "He and his family know all about you and they're quite interested in you."

"That can't lead to good things," Donna scoffed as she looked at the prince and the Doctor, seeing the tension that could mount if the Doctor found out about this 'interest' the prince had for Minerva.

"Yeah, okay, but that doesn't mean I like him staring," Minerva mumbled to Zohar.

"Minerva, c'mon," Zohar nudged her, "I mean, you're practically the bloody queen of the Silver Monsoon who's also human who's also changing who's also a time traveler. You kinda have a lot going on."

"Still, I'll slap him if he gets funny ideas," Donna declared.

Minerva smiled, "Thanks, Donna."

"Of course," the ginger nodded.

"Please don't," Zohar sighed lightly, "Eventually, Minerva will have to make formal relationships with him and his father and his sisters. It's best not to spark war."

"So much diplomacy," Donna mumbled.

"It's what awaits her royal highness when she returns," Zohar smiled.

Minerva wasn't too pleased with that and so turned away. She didn't like to think of the life she'd have to lead stuck on the Monsoon. She liked the idea of retaking her old title and the job that came with it. But that didn't mean she wanted people waiting on her. She didn't want to fake a relation with any family, if they were to know each other it should be because they wanted to, not because of their planets or titles.

"Donna, come on, think. Earth. There must've been some sort of warning. Was there anything happening back in your day, like... electrical storms, freak weather, patterns in the sky?" the Doctor called over, leaning on a banister.

"Well, how should I know? Um... no. I don't think so, no."

"Oh, okay, never mind," he sighed and straightened up.

"Although... there were the bees disappearing."

"The bees disappearing. The bees disappearing," the Doctor sarcastically said.

"Oi, don't be rude!" Minerva scolded, "She's trying."

But the Doctor blinked in realization, "The bees disappearing!" he yelled and ran to the computer again.

"How is this significant to the problem?" the prince asked, watching the Doctor work.

"On Earth, we have these insects. Some people said it was pollution or mobile phone signals," Donna rushed over, Zohar and Minerva following.

"Or... they were going back home," the Doctor said.

"Back home where?" Donna and Minerva asked, confused.

"The planet Melissa Majoria."

"Please don't tell me bees are actually aliens..." Minerva looked at him curiously.

"Don't be so daft—"

"Excuse me?"

"I mean that you can't stop being so lovely..." the Doctor made a face of error, "And it's not all of them. But, if the migrant bees felt something, some sort of danger, and escaped... Tandocca!"

"The Tandocca Scale," the architect nodded in agreement.

"The Tandocca Scale is a series of wavelengths used as carrier signals by migrant bees. Infinitely small, no wonder we didn't see it. It's like looking for a speck of cinnamon in the Sahara. But look!" the Doctor pointed at the screen excitedly, "There it is! The Tandocca trail," the screen wore a trail of blue light, "The transmat that moved that planets was using the same wavelength! We can follow the path!"

"And that means we can find the Earth!" Minerva exclaimed, Donna already halfway to the TARDIS.

"Well, stop talking and do it!" Donna called.

"I am!" he yanked Minerva after him and followed Donna. He ran himself and Minerva up to console, "We're a bit late. The signal's scattered, but it's a start!" he ran out the door and poked his head out, seeing the awaiting trio, Zohar just a little closer, "I've got a blip! It's just a blip, but it's definitely a blip."

"Then according to the strictures of the Shadow Proclamation, I will have to seize your transport and your technology," the architect declared.

"Oh, really? What for?" he frowned, taken aback.

"If I am correct," the prince raised a finger for the architect who nodded and let him proceed, "The planets were stolen with hostile intent, including mine, and so there is war to be declared."

The Doctor frowned, yes he did not like the prince anymore. Plus, he saw the looks the prince had been giving his Clever Girl. Yes, yes, dislike enacted.

"My home may be gone but we have allies, and you will lead us into battle!" the prince practically ordered, something else the Doctor disliked.

"Right. Yes. Course I will. Just go and... get you a key," the Doctor started sliding into the TARDIS again.

"Can I make sure you go and get it?" Zohar suddenly asked, smiling a bit, "Please?"

He sighed, "Yes, fine."

She beamed and hurried on inside, shut the doors after them. The Doctor flung his coat over one of the railings and ran back to the console, joining Minerva with a soft smile, "Off we are?"

"Oh yes," she nodded and he pulled the lever.

Past them, they didn't see how Zohar was looking around the box in complete gawk as she held onto the rails.

~ 0 ~

Rose had found her way to the Nobles' house and immediately got herself situated with Sylvia and Wilf.

"I tried calling her, but I can't get through. She's still with Minerva and the Doctor, I know that much, and the- and the last time she phoned, it- it was from a planet called Midnight, made of diamonds," Wilf explained to Rose as they sat in the kitchen of their home.

Sylvia held a pot of tea for them, "What the hell are you two on about?"

"Look, she's out there, sweetheart! Your daughter! She's travelling the stars with that Doctor and Minerva," Wilf said, "She always has been."

"Don't be ridiculous," Sylvia shook her head.

Wilf's eyes narrowed, "Oh, come on, open your eyes. Look at the sky. Look at the- look at the Daleks! You can't start denying things now!"

Dejectedly, Rose sighed, "You're my last hope. If we can't find Donna... we can't find the Doctor. "

"But what about Minerva? She has to have a family too," Wilf offered, "In America."

"She does, but they're not answering anymore..." Rose sighed again, "...Donna was truly the last person..." she buried her head in her hands, "...where is he?"

~ 0 ~

The Doctor, Donna, and Minerva held onto the console for support while Zohar continued back at the rails, still not quite over the enormous size of the blue box! Suddenly, everything stopped...dead.

"It's stopped..." the Doctor let go of the console, a bit confused.

"Well, is that good or bad?" Minerva raised an eyebrow.

"Where are we?" Donna asked.

He looked over on the monitor, "The Medusa Cascade..." he stared at the screen, thinking, "...I came here when I was just a kid. Ninety years old. It was the center of a rift in time and space."

"So... where are the twenty-seven planets?" Minerva asked softly, liking the beautiful image on the screen, but...she'd much rather see her Earth.

"Nowhere. The Tandocca Trail stops dead," he answered quietly, "End of the line."

"So, what do we do? Doctor? What do we do?" Donna awaited for something, it couldn't just be the end. But the Doctor continued to stare at the screen with nothing more, complete defeated.

"You can't do that..." Minerva breathed, shakily, "...don't you dare," she pointed, even her finger shaky, "Tell us what we're going to do right now!"

"You never give up," Donna added, just as worked up as Minerva.

Zohar quietly walked over, her own face grim but completely silent.

"Doctor, please..." Minerva begged, her tears streaming. All he did was reach out for her and pulled her for a hug, a very tight hug where she began sniffling.

~ 0 ~

Wilf sat with his arm around Sylvia, both huddled together in an armchair. He kissed her forehead as she cried quietly. The Daleks were destroying everything outside, taking people for God knew what, and it was only a matter of time until they arrived on their street.

"You will obey Dalek instruction without question. You will obey your Dalek ma-" the Dalek's voice outside was cut off by a loud beeping sound.

Wilf and Rose looked around to see what was making the sound and saw the laptop had sprung to life, showing a white noise while a familiar voice strained to get through.

"Can anyone hear me? The subwave network is open, you should be able to hear my voice..."

Rose hurried to the laptop in surprise.

"Is there anyone there?"

"I know that voice...!" Rose exclaimed, kneeling in front of the laptop.

~ 0 ~

"Who's that?" Luke asked as he and Sarah Jane also heard the voice calling through.

"Some poor soul calling for help," Sarah Jane helplessly said, "There's nothing we can do."

"But look at Mr Smith!" he pointed.

"Processing incoming subwave."

The screen displayed a vague outline of a person, buried in white noise.

~ 0 ~

Back in Torchwood, the same voice was calling through. Gwen jumped to her feet at the sounds and dashed for the computer.

"This message is of the utmost importance. We haven't much time. Can anyone hear me?"

"Someone's trying to get in touch," Gwen stood in front of the computer.

"The whole world's crying out. Just leave it," Jack quietly said.

"Captain Jack Harkness, shame on you!" Harriet Jones reprimanded from the screen, "Now, stand to attention, sir!"

Jack ran to the computer, while Ianto hurriedly followed, "What?! Who is that?" Jack demanded.

The image on the screen finally cleared up and revealed Harriet Jones sitting in front of her computer in her house, flashing an ID card at the screen, "Harriet Jones, former Prime Minister."

"Yeah, I know who you are," Jack nodded.

~ 0 ~

Rose was yelling at the screen in excitement, "Harriet! It's me, it's me! Oh, she can't hear me -" she looked back to Wilf, "Have you got a webcam?"

"No," he pointed at Sylvia, "She wouldn't let me. She said they're naughty."

Rose sighed and looked back to the laptop screen, "Well, I can't speak to her then, can I?"

~ o ~

"Sarah Jane Smith, 13 Bannerman Road. Are you there?" Harriet Jones asked.

Sarah Jane jumped to her feet, "Yeah! Yeah, I'm here! It's me!"

~ 0 ~

"Good! Now, let's see if we can talk to each other," Harriet pressed a few buttons around her.

The screens divided into four squares, the first one taken by her, the second by Jack, the third by Sarah Jane and the fourth was still in white noise.

"The fourth contact seems to be having some trouble getting through," Harriet Remarked.

~ 0 ~

"That's me! Harriet, that's me!" Rose pointed at herself, sighing.

"I'll just boost the signal," Harriet had said.

Suddenly, Martha's face appeared in the fourth square, "Hello?"

~ 0 ~

The Torchwood team laughed with relief at the sound of her voice.

"Martha Jones!" Jack cried happily.

~ 0 ~

"Who's she?" Rose frowned in annoyance, "I want to get through!"

"Martha, where are you?" Jack asked.

"I guess Project Indigo was more clever than we thought," Martha smiled, "One second I was in Manhattan, next second I was at home. Maybe Indigo tapped into my mind, because I ended up in the one place that I wanted to be," the screen showed Francine beside her.

Francine looked at her daughter, "You came home. At the end of the world, you came back to me."

"But all of a sudden, it's like... the laptop turned itself on?" Martha asked.

"It did," Harriet Jones nodded, "That was me," she flashed her ID to the screen again, "Harriet Jones, former Prime Minister."

"Yes, I know who you are," Martha smiled.

~ 0 ~

"I thought it was about time we all met, given the current crisis. Torchwood - this is Sarah Jane Smith," Harriet introduced.

"I've been following your work. Nice job with the Slitheen..." Jack said to Sarah Jane.

"Yeah, well, I've been staying away from you lot. Too many guns," Sarah Jane nodded to Luke's direction.

"All the same... might I say, looking good, ma'am."

"Really? Oh!" Sarah Jane said in a pleased manner.

"Not now, Captain," Harriet Jones cut in, "And Martha Jones, former companion to the Doctor."

~ 0 ~

"Oi! So was I!" Rose indignantly cried to the screen.

~ 0 ~

"And Minerva," Martha made sure to add, not about to let her best friend be forgotten, "But how did you find me?"

"This, ladies and gentlemen, this is a subwave network," Harriet explained, "A sentient piece of software programmed to seek out anyone and everyone who can help to contact the Doctor."

"What if the Daleks can hear us?"

"No! That's the beauty of the subwave. It's undetectable."

"And...you invented it?" Sarah Jane was impressed.

"I developed it. It was created by the Copper-Peth Foundation."

"Yeah, but what we need right now is a weapon," Jack cut in, "Martha, back there at UNIT, what did they give you? What was that key thing?"

Martha showed them the key in her hand, "The Osterhagen Key."

"That key is not to be used, Doctor Jones. Not under any circumstances," Harriet used a serious tone, like she knew exactly what that key was used for.

"But what is an Osterhagen Key?" Jack asked, still confused.

"Forget about the key! And that's an order. All we need is the Doctor."

"Oh, excuse me, Harriet, but well, the thing is... if you're looking for the Doctor, didn't he depose you?" Sarah Jane felt a bit bad of reminding the woman of that small detail.

"He did. And I've wondered about that for a long time, whether I was wrong. But I stand by my actions to this day, because I knew - I knew that one day, the Earth would be in danger and the Doctor would fail to appear. I told him so myself, and he didn't listen."

"But I've been trying to find him. Minerva, she's got my phone in the TARDIS but I can't get through," Martha said, "And Minerva always answers."

~ 0 ~

"Nor me, and I was here first," Rose remarked, still peeved. Why was no one mentioning her? She went to another dimension, not disappeared into thin air!

~ 0 ~

"That's why we need the subwave - to bring us all together. Combined forces. The Doctor's secret army," Harriet said.

"Wait a minute," Jack thought, "We boost the signal - that's it! We transmit that telephone number through Torchwood itself, using all the power of the rift..."

"And we've got Mr Smith!" Luke called, " He can link up with every telephone exchange on the Earth. He can get the whole world to call the same number, all at the same time. Billions of phones calling out, all at once!"

"Haha, brilliant!" Jack exclaimed, "Who's the kid?" he asked, nonetheless still smiling.

"That's my son!" Sarah Jane proudly said.

Ianto was shuffling through in front of the screen, "Excuse me, sorry," he said to Jack and Gwen before he stood in front now, "Sorry. Hello. Ianto Jones. Um, if we start transmitting, then the subwave network is going to become... visible. I mean, to the... Daleks."

"Yes, and they'll trace it back to me, but my life doesn't matter. Not if it saves the Earth," Harriet said, serious.

Jack stood to attention and saluted, "Ma'am."

"Thank you, Captain. But there are people out there, dying. On the streets. Now, enough of words. Let's begin," she started typing on the key board.

The Torchwood team dashed from terminal to terminal, aiding Harriet.

"Rift power activated," Jack called.

"All terminals co-ordinated," Gwen helped Ianto with a bunch of wires.

Ianto connected them to a column that rose up into the water feature outside the Millenium Center, "National Grid online - giving you everything we've got!" he declared and the machinery whirred with power.

Sarah Jane and Luke were busy up with the controls of Mr. Smith.

"Connecting you to Mr Smith!" Sarah Jane called.

"All telephone networks combined!" Luke added.

The screen now displayed a map of the UK with red spots indicating the networks.

Martha picked up her phone, "Sending you the number... now!" she pressed enter and the number dialed.

"Opening subwave network to maximum," Harriet said.

Sarah Jane and Luke stepped back, ready to let Mr. Smith take over.

"Mr Smith... make that call," Sarah Jane saud.

The number was displayed on the screen, "Calling... the Doctor."

~ 0 ~

Rose had her own cellphone and was also aiding, "So am I."

~ 0 ~

"And... sending!" Jack pushed a lever and stood back as a ring of electric blue light traveled slowly up the column...up and out...

~ 0 ~

Inside the TARDIS, Martha's cellphone began ringing out of nowhere.

Minerva lifted her head and looked up at the Doctor, "That's a phone..." she shuffled out of his arms, "PHONE!" she cried and hurried over.

"Oh my god, a phone?" Zohar looked at Donna, wasn't the entire box a phone?

"Martha, Martha, Martha! Is that you!? That's you right!?" Minerva had already answered the phone, the Doctor right beside her.

"It's a signal," the Doctor took the phone from her.

"Can we follow it?" Donna asked.

"Oh, just watch me," he pulled out a stethoscope and handed the phone back to Minerva to hold while he pressed the end of the stethoscope to it

~ 0 ~

Equipment in Torchwood exploded, let sparks fly and was in chaos...

Jack stood at the computer, shouting above the noise, "I think we've got a fix!"

"Mr Smith now at two-hundred percent!" Sarah Jane exclaimed, "Oh, come on, Doctor! Minerva!"

~ 0 ~

Rose, Sylvia, and Wilf stood together in the living room, each dialing the number on their phones. Rose held hers high above her head, whispering, "Find me, Doctor," she closed her eyes, "Find me."

~ 0 ~

"Got it! Locking on!" the Doctor called, pulling the lever of the console. It sent a shuddering nose that made everyone fall all over the place again, sparks flying from the console.

~ 0 ~

Jack motioned Ianto to take his place at the terminal, "Harriet, a source has locked onto your location. They've found you."

"I know, I'm using the network to mask your transmission. Keep going!" Harriet continued her work, even through the big blast a Dalek made on the side of her house. She didn't care, she had to finish her job.

~ 0 ~

The whole console had gone into flames as the TARDIS shook violently to get to wherever it was they needed to.

"It's hot, it's very, very hot!" Minerva whimpered, having trouble breathing. She really did not have time for these things right now.

"We're travelling through time! One second in the future! The phone call's pulling us through!" the Doctor exclaimed, unable to hear her as he stood on another side of the console.

Zohar forcefully crawled closer to Minerva, putting an arm around her shoulders, "Breathe," she instructed, her hand raising a little.

Minerva felt the cold wind hit her face, feeling it like a blessing. She closed her eyes and simply let it take over her for the moment.

~ 0 ~

Harriet pressed one last button then looked at the screen, "Captain, I'm transferring the subwave network to Torchwood. You're in charge, now. And tell the Doctor from me: he chose his companions well," Jack nodded with a sad smile, "It's been an honor."

Three Daleks smashed through her window and so she stood to meet them face to face. She strode forward and flashed her ID card at them one last time, "Harriet Jones, former Prime Minister."

"Yes, we know who you are," a Dalek said.

"Oh, you know nothing of any human. And that will be your downfall."

"Exterminate!"

~ 0 ~

"THREE! TWO! ONE!" the Doctor shouted at the top of his lungs.

The TARDIS hurdled towards the now visible Earth through the transmission, the rest of the planets becoming visible one by one. Inside the box, the fire had died down and it was completely still.

"Did we find them?" Minerva asked, Zohar helping her to her feet. She felt a lot better now thanks to Zohar, she just hoped nothing like that would happen again.

"The twenty-seven planets!" the Doctor hurried over to her and took her to the monitor.

"But why couldn't we see them?"

"The entire Medusa Cascade has been put a second out of sync with the rest of the universe. Perfect hiding place, tiny little pocket of time. But we found them!" a whirring sound began up, the monitor screen blurred out slightly, "Oh, oh... what's that? Hold on, hold on..." he turned a knob and peered into the monitor, "Some sort of... subwave network."

The image cleared up and everyone saw the grid of webcams appear on the screen, only now the TARDIS group replaced Harriet Jones' square.

~ 0 ~

Jack laughed at the sight of them, and then grew angry, "Where the hell have you been?!" he exclaimed then returned to his normal voice "Doctor, it's the Daleks!"

"Ooh, he's a bit nice. I thought he'd be older," Gwen remarked of the Doctor.

"He's not that young," Ianto added.

"It's the Daleks! They're taking people to their spaceship!" Sarah Jane exclaimed, hers and Martha's voice jabbered over one another.

"They sound like you," Minerva whispered to the Doctor, amused.

"But it's not just Dalek Caan!" Martha had said almost at the same time.

~ 0 ~

"That's Donna!" Sylvia spotted the ginger woman that was her daughter.

"That's my girl!" Wilf proudly said.

Rose had said nothing, she was just overly impacted to see the Doctor again. She was so close to seeing him again, so close!

~ 0 ~

"Sarah Jane! Who's that boy? That must be Torchwood. Aren't they brilliant?" the Doctor looked at Minerva who just nodded, "Look at you all, you clever people!"

"Oh Martha, there you are, how's the job going?" Minerva had to ask, she really hadn't heard much from Martha for a while now.

"Wait, who's..." Donna had a mischievous face as she pointed to Jack on the screen, "...he?"

Zohar peered over and nodded in agreement, "Oh, yes, please tell."

"Jack don't you dare," Minerva immediately pointed, "That's my ginger sister and friend."

~ 0 ~

"Doctor, it's me. I came back," Rose whispered from her side, knowing of course she wouldn't be heard.

~ 0 ~

"It's like... an outer-space Facebook!" Donna exclaimed.

"What's a Facebook?" Zohar curiously asked.

"Everyone except Rose," the Doctor mumbled.

Minerva looked to the side, having heard that little mumble. She couldn't be upset by his wish to see her again. To him, Rose was still untainted and a good friend...she just hoped Rose wouldn't ruin it or she herself do something.

The TARDIS monitor turned to white noise again, making the four squares disappear.

"Oh, what happened?" Zohar asked.

The Doctor turned a knob, "No, no, no, no, no! There's another signal coming through, there's someone else out there," he bashed the top of the monitor, " Hello? Can you hear me? Hm, could be Rose?" he watched the monitor for a moment.

"Your voice is different, and yet, its arrogance is unchanged," Davros voice emerged instead.

Minerva noticed how the Doctor immediately froze, like terror.

Davros allowed himself to be seen through the screens, "Welcome... to my new Empire, Doctor."

"Oh..." Donna stepped back in revulsion.

Minerva was also a bit uneasy, but the Doctor was still frozen with fear, while Zohar looked at the screen with a hard, glaring look.

"It is only fitting that you should bear witness to the resurrection and the triumph of Davros, Lord and Creator of the Dalek Race."

"Doctor?" Minerva looked at her Martian.

"Have you nothing to say?" Davros asked, a hint of pride in the tone used.

"Doctor, it's all right. We're... we're in the TARDIS. We're safe," Donna tried reminding him.

"But you were destroyed..." the Doctor shook a bit as he looked at the screen, "In the very first year of the Time War, at the Gates of Elysiem. I saw your command ship flying into the jaws of the Nightmare Child. I tried to save you..."

"But it took one stronger than you. Dalek Caan himself."

Dalek Caan's voice emerged from the background, in an insane singsong from his place on a plinth, looking deformed and mutated, "I flew into the wild and fire. I danced and died a thousand times!"

"Emergency temporal shift took him back into the Time War itself," Davros explained.

"But that's impossible, the entire War is time-locked," the Doctor frowned.

"And yet, he succeeded. Oh, it cost him his mind, but imagine - a single, simple Dalek succeeded where Emperors and Time Lords have failed. A testament, don't you think, to my remarkable creations?"

"And you made a new race of Daleks."

Minerva felt a queer feeling in her stomach, unable to tell what it meant. She felt nervous, but she felt afraid, but she also felt...angry? Shouldn't she be more terrified than anything?

"I gave myself to them. Quite literally. Each one grown from a cell of my own body," Davros pulled his leather suit open to reveal his rotten, emaciate form, his ribs and heart visible, "New Daleks. True Daleks. I have my children, Doctor. What do you have, now?"

"After all this time... everything we saw, everything we lost... I have only one thing to say to you. BYE!" the Doctor pulled a lever down and cut the creature off. And it wasn't just him taking off, his companions on Earth were about to do the same thing.

~ 0 ~

The TARDIS materialized outside a church. The road was completely solitary save all its chaotic objects sprawled around. There were cars crashed left everywhere, alone. The streets had sprawled trash and an uncanny silence except the bark of a lone dog.

"No one's answering home," Minerva trembled as she stepped out of the TARDIS after the Doctor and Donna, "No one..."

"Maybe they're hiding," Zohar offered to ease Minerva's nerves.

But Minerva nearly scoffed, there was no point in acting like nothing would happen, "Yeah...hiding. Look at this place!"

"It's like a ghost town," Donna breathed at the sight of the street.

"Sarah Jane said that they were taking the people. But what for?" the Doctor turned to Donna, urgently, "Think, Donna. When you met Rose in that parallel world, what did she say?"

"Just... the darkness is coming," the ginger lightly shrugged.

"Anything else?"

Donna thought for a minute more when something behind him caught her eye, making her bite her lip in an uneasy way, "You can ask her yourself, you know..."

The Doctor looked at her confused then followed her gaze behind him...to see Rose at the far end of the street. The blonde was smiling brightly as ever, utterly joyous. Minerva peered around the Doctor, curious herself and breathed shakily at the sight.

"M-Minerva look," the Doctor reached back for her arm, "It's Rose, it's Rose..." he trembled with joy and disbelief.

"Yup, it's her..." Minerva looked up at him and sighed, "...you should go see her first," she whispered, forgetting all her fear and nervousness when she saw how happy he was, "Go on, I'll go second..."

As if on cue, Rose broke into a run towards them, and a couple seconds later went the Doctor.

"Why did you do that?" Zohar frowned, misunderstanding why her princess would purposefully put herself in pain?

"Look at him," Minerva gestured ahead, her gaze stuck on the running Martian, "He's so happy..."

But her happiness didn't last very long when she saw something coming out of the shadows...

"Exterminate!" a Dalek glided out.

Rose gasped in horror while the Doctor barely had time to turn around when he was shot by the Dalek. It skimmed his chest and made him fall flat on the ground.

"NO!" Minerva screamed and dashed for her fallen Martian.

Jack appeared in a flash of blue light and with an impressively quick surmise of the situation used his gun on the Dalek and blew it's top of.

Rose dumped her gun aside and fell to her knees beside the Doctor, cradling his head in her hands, "I've got you. It missed you. Look!" she smiled shakily, "It's me, Doctor."

The Doctor, barely conscious, was able to smile at her, "Rose."

"Hi," she whispered.

"Long time no see," he weakly remarked.

"Yeah. Been busy, you know," she joked but the Doctor started convulsing, "Don't die. Oh, my God, don't die. Oh, my God, don't die!"

"Martian, no!" Minerva had dropped beside him, barely able to retain her trembles.

"Get him into the TARDIS, quick. Move!" Jack called as he, Donna, and Zohar reached them.

Zohar pulled Minerva to her feet while Jack and Donna helped the Doctor. Jack picked up Rose's gun and looked around for anything else that might pop up.

Rose and Donna laid the Doctor on the TARDIS grill where he twice and moaned in pain. Minerva wrestled out of Zohar's arms and rushed up to him. But it was Rose who held him with tears in her eyes.

"What- what do we do? There must be some medicine or something!" she looked around for anything.

"Just step back," Jack called as he threw the guns on the chairs beside the console, "Rose, Minerva, do as I say, and get back!" but neither women moved, "He's dying, and you know what happens next.

"What do you mean?" Donna stood, confused.

"He's going to regenerate," Minerva swallowed, staring at her Martian.

"But you can't... not now, I came all this way," Rose whispered to him.

The Doctor held his hand, all staring including him as it glowed with the orange light. "It's starting," he said as his whole body started glowing.

"No," Minerva practically pulled Rose off him and clung onto him like her life depended on it.

"C'mon, Minerva," Zohar tried pulling the brunette away from the Doctor. It seemed her human strength had been exchanged with that of a Moontsay, making it even harder to get her up.

Jack, however, pulled Rose away with ease over to a safe distance along with Donna, "Here we go! Good luck, Doctor!" he called.

"Minerva — Kaeya, LISTEN!" Zohar nearly broke into shouts, startling Minerva with the use of her birth name, "You may not remember how this goes but we can't be near when a regeneration happens. C'MON!"

Minerva looked between Zohar and the Doctor with tears in her eyes. "I'll be waiting for you," she whispered to the Doctor before she allowed Zohar to pull her back with the rest.

"Will someone please tell me what is going on?" Donna asked.

"We talked about this, Donna, remember?" Minerva tried speaking calmly but her voice was still shaking, "Regeneration? The changing of the face? This is why it happens, because he's dying and his body is trying to repair itself."

"He's gonna change right now?" Donna blinked.

"But you can't," Rose called, in tears.

"I'm sorry. It's too late. I'm regenerating!" the Doctor stood up with just enough time to give them all a quick glance. His arms flung wide open and the orange energy erupted from his skin, emerging through his neck and sleeves.

Zohar raised her hand and made a soft, blue wall appear in front of the group and herself for protection. Rose squinted through the blaze and wall to see what would emerge next.

The Doctor suddenly directed his energy towards his hand in the jar. The jar bubbled and glowed as the energy flowed inside of it. The Doctor stopped regenerating and stumbled back, breathless...and still the same man.

Everyone just gaped.

"Now, then. Where were we?" he darted to the console, unaware of the stunned looks he received.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me." It was Zohar who had broken the silence in the room, utterly frazzled with the Doctor. "This guy!?" She looked at Minerva, gesturing at the Time Lord. "He's the one!?"

All Minerva could do in that situation was shrug helplessly. She had no idea how the Doctor managed to do what he did and look completely normal about it too.

The Doctor had gotten on his hands and knees before his jar with his hand inside, still bubbling and glowing away. "There, now," he blew on it gently, the jar calming down and stopping it's glow and bubbling. He smiled delightedly and sat up, "You see? Used the regeneration energy to heal myself, but as soon as that was done, I didn't need to change. I didn't want to, why would I?" he tweaked his tie, "Look at me! So, to stop the energy going all the way, I siphoned off the rest into a handy bio-matching receptacle - namely, my hand. My hand, there. My handy spare hand," he stood up completely and looked at Minerva and Rose, "Remember? Christmas Day? Sycorax? Lost my hand in a sword fight? That's my hand!" Rose looked from the Doctor to his hand, back and forth with uncertainty, "What do you think?" the Doctor focused on Minerva for that part.

While they'd of course discussed regeneration, it didn't stop him from being nervous of how his Clever Girl would react the day he turned into a new man. He supposed now he could understand what she had been feeling this whole time with the process. And while he had always assured he'd love every last new detail of her, he couldn't help wonder if she would love all his new details when the time came to change again. Even know, still the same man, he was nervous of what she might do or say...

"I don't — I have no idea what all that was but..." Minerva broke into a laugh, "You're alive!" And she rushed up to him, crying.

He picked her up in a tight hug and was greeted by an urgent kiss. To him, it meant the world to know she wasn't rejecting him...but to Rose...well...

"Hold on..." the blonde breathed, her eyes wide.

The pair pulled away, both wearing small smiles. As usual, the Doctor finished it up with an Eskimo kiss that made Minerva giggle.

"You're alive, you're here," Minerva whispered, her eyes teary, her hands on either side of his face. "You're really crazy, you know that?"

Behind them, Zohar snorted. "That's an understatement." Beside her, Jack nodded in agreement.

"Of course, I couldn't go anywhere, I have a Clever Girl to attend to," the Doctor smiled and set Minerva on her feet. He looked up and saw the soft smiles on Donna and Zohar, the formal nod of Captain Jack...and then the utter confused face of Rose.

"Rose," he grinned, absolute joyful that he could really see her again in the flesh.

Minerva quietly gasped when she recalled that small detail. She turned around, feeling so truly awful of what she had just done. That...that was not the way Rose needed to find out. She deserved to be sat down and explained...not give her the spectacle she'd just seen.

But the Doctor really was quite oblivious that he just went ahead and took Rose for a hug, entirely missing the contorted face of pain Rose wore, "It's really, really, really, good to see you again!" he exclaimed, gripping her tight, "What am I saying good? It's fantastic!" he laughed.

Rose, despite her confusion, gripped back and buried her head in his shoulder, eyes screwed shut. This was what she had returned for, for what she had worked so much to achieve. She was back with the Doctor, back in her real universe...

"Rose, I..." Minerva didn't even know how to form words anymore. Rose's eyes snapped open and immediately took the form of a glare that made Minerva shut down and step back.

"You know, you can hug me, if you want," Donna had turned to Jack who just laughed. Donna was more than serious though, "No, really, you can hug me."

Zohar quickly walked over to Minerva's side and gave her a side hug while the brunette just looked down in an attempt to avoid Rose's glare. However, she missed the dark glare of daggers Zohar shot Rose that made the blonde a bit uneasy. Zohar didn't know how Minerva's life had been for the past 19 years and with that blonde but she was no longer alone.

~ 0 ~

Four Daleks surrounded the TARDIS outside.

"Report: TARDIS has been located," one of them said.

"Bring it here. Bring the Doctor to me. Initiate temporal prison!" the Supreme Dalek ordered.

Each Dalek stood at each corner of the TARDIS and surrounded it in a thin hoop of spinning blue light.

"Temporal prison initiated."

The blue light swarmed inside the box...

~ 0 ~

The group was gathered around the console when the power cut out.

The Doctor shuffled around the console as he tried several buttons, "They've got us. Power's gone... some kind of chronon loop!" There was a great crash which made the TARDIS tilt dangerously to one side.

Eventually, the TARDIS, meanwhile, glided inexorably towards the Dalek ship.

"There's a massive Dalek ship at the center of the planets," Jack was saying to the group, "They're calling it the Crucible. Guess that's our destination."

"If you said those planets were like an engine..." Minerva looked at the Doctor, "...what exactly would it be used for?"

He quickly remembered and looked at Rose, "Rose! You've been in a parallel world, that world's running ahead of this universe - you've seen the future, what was it?"

Rose flinched as she heard her name being called, her focus having been on Minerva ever since the TARDIS had started moving. She just could not believe that she ever felt sorry for her behavior before being sent off into the parallel world. She truly had come with the intention of apologizing to Minerva for blaming her for something that wasn't her fault plus her attitude when she believed Minerva may have had some feelings for the Doctor (which, after Mickey had told her Minerva's actual intentions, had made her laugh at herself for being so stupid). And now, she'd witnessed the brunette go ahead and jump on the Doctor and kiss him! It really put some things in perspective for Rose. She had been right, she had always been right! Poor Mickey had been fooled by that clever woman, same thing for her mum. Minerva played to be the innocent, poor abandoned woman and when in reality she was a deceiving, manipulative woman! How could she have been so...stupid, to believe Mickey? She'd spent all that time in the parallel world thinking of the perfect apology for Minerva, coming up with ways that she could make up for such awful treatment...while in the meantime Minerva had wiggled her way into the Doctor's life.

"Rose?" the Doctor called again.

"Huh?" the blonde shook her head quickly, remembering she'd been called, "Oh, um, it's the darkness."

"The stars were going out," Donna remarked.

"One by one. We looked up at the sky and they were just dying," Rose said then looked at the Doctor, a small smile spreading on her face, "Basically, we've been building this um... this travel machine, this... uh... Dimension Cannon, so I could... well, so I could..."

"What?" the Doctor raised his eyebrows.

"So I could come back!" she explained, blushing as the Doctor smiled, "Anyway, suddenly, it started to work. And the dimensions started to collapse. Not just in our world - not just in yours - but the whole of reality, even the Void was dead. Something is... destroying everything."

"In that parallel world..." Donna spoke again, making Rose turned to her, "...you said something about me. You and Kaeya..."

"The Dimension Cannon could measure timelines, and it's... it's weird, Donna, but they all seem to converge on you."

"But why me? I mean... what have I ever done? I'm a temp from Chiswick!" Donna exclaimed, bemused at such an idea.

The computer bleeped which made the Doctor hurry over and see, "The Dalek Crucible. All aboard..."

~ 0 ~

Inside the Crucible, several Daleks moved forwards where the TARDIS had arrived.

"The TARDIS is secured!" one of them announced.

"Doctor! You will step forth or die!" the supreme Dalek called.

~ 0 ~

The Doctor was watching the door cautiously, "We'll have to go out. 'Cos if we don't, they'll get in..."

Minerva put a hand over her stomach, having that uneasy feeling forming in the pit of it, "But...you said nothing can get through those doors..."

"You've got extrapolator shielding," Jack reminded.

The Doctor turned to them all, "Last time we fought the Daleks, they were scavengers and hybrids and mad. But this is a fully fledged Dalek Empire... at the height of its power. Experts at fighting TARDISes, they can do anything. Right now, that wooden door... is just wood."

Donna stood apart from the group, staring ahead again. She couldn't quite listen to them as everything started fading again, all she was hearing instead a heart beating...louder and louder...

"What about your Dimension Jump?" Jack turned to Rose.

"It needs another twenty minutes, and anyway, I'm not leaving," she said firmly, looking at Minerva for that last part, not that the brunette had noticed.

Minerva was too focused on her own feelings. She felt like she could tremble, and it wasn't from fear. That's what made her confused. She knew there were millions of Daleks waiting outside, waiting to kill her...and she wasn't afraid. She was...she didn't even know. That was a huge difference from the last time she'd seen Daleks in New York.

"What about your teleport?" the Doctor looked at Jack.

"Went down with the power-loss," Jack answered.

"Right then. All of us together... yeah," the Doctor looked at Minerva and Donna, both out of tune with the conversation, "Oi, Minerva? Donna?" Minerva snapped out of her trance for a bit, just enough to give a nod that she'd listen, even if she hadn't, "Are you alright?" he moved over to her.

"Mhm," she nodded and looked back to Donna, noticing how bad the ginger was unlike her, "But I don't think Donna is."

The Doctor nodded and headed to Donna. Donna was still staring straight ahead with her eyes moist, mouth open, and her head full of that heartbeat, "Donna?" the Doctor set his hands on her shoulder, succeeding and snapping her out of the trance as well.

"Yeah," she whispered, even if she had no idea what he was saying.

"I'm sorry, there's nothing else we can do."

"No, I know," she nodded.

The Doctor returned, stopping by Minerva's side and giving her a kiss on the head.

"Daleks," Rose nervously laughed as she looked at around, "Hah..."

"Oh, God!" Jack joined in on the laugh, both watching the Doctor.

The Doctor looked at everyone and gave a slight nod, "It's been good, though, hasn't it? All of us... all of it... everything we did..." he looked at Donna, "You were brilliant," the ginger smiled and he moved on to Jack, "And you were brilliant," he then looked to Rose, "And you were brilliant," the blonde sadly smiled and he looked down at Minerva, "You were absolutely brilliantly clever."

Minerva gave a small smile, "Only because of you, Martian," she sighed.

He took her hand and tried to lead her to the door but she stepped back. He just half-smiled, understanding she was probably overly terrified and wanted to be in the back. He could understand. He turned to the door and opened them up, stepping out with Rose and Jack.

"Daleks reign supreme! All hail the Daleks!" the supreme Dalek chanted.

~ 0 ~

Inside, Donna slowly walked for the doors, thinking of going out with Minerva and Zohar but she paused when she heard that heartbeat again.

"You feel something awful in your stomach, don't you?" Zohar made to go out the door but suddenly turned to Minerva, Minerva surprised she'd figured it out, "I know, I have that too," she said sadly, her hands over her stomach.

"Why is that? It's like...I know I'm supposed to be terrified, but..."

"You're sad?"

Minerva titled her head in confusion, how could she know that?

~ 0 ~

The Doctor, Rose, and Jack looked around at the enormous ship, filled with chanting Daleks, "Daleks reign supreme! All hail the Daleks! Daleks reign supreme! All hail the Daleks!"

"Behold, Doctor. Behold the might of the true Dalek Race," the supreme Dalek said.

~ 0 ~

Donna turned back to the console, her brow furrowed. She looked up and saw the blue light making circles above the console.

"How do you know that?" Minerva asked Zohar, "I've never felt that before. Last time, I was really terrified..."

"Because you were just a human," Zohar stepped forwards, looking her dead in the eye, "The Daleks killed my parents...and they killed yours too."

Minerva's eyes widened, "Wh-what?"

"What you feel right now, is because your subconscious remembers that those monsters murdered our parents. You're not afraid, you're angry."

Minerva remained in place, taking her words in, blinking rapidly as she tried truly hard to remember that.

"I'm sorry," Zohar turned and headed for the doors.

~ 0 ~

"Minerva? Zohar? Donna? It's no safer in there..." the Doctor called, a bit tensed that Minerva still hadn't stepped out.

Zohar stepped out, face full of dagger glares as she stared at the Daleks, "I'm not afraid," she declared and joined the group.

~ 0 ~

Donna shook herself a bit and turned back for the door, "Let's go Minerva."

But Minerva remained still, a single tear strolling down her cheek.

When Donna linked arms with her, the doors of the TARDIS shut...

~ 0 ~

The Doctor spun around at the sound of the doors slamming and hurried back.

~ 0 ~

Donna was already banging on the doors, "Doctor!?" she rattled the handle, "What've you done!?"

~ 0 ~

"It wasn't me, I didn't do anything!" he called from the other side, also struggling with the door.

"Oi! Oi, We're not staying behind!" Donna shouted, looking back at Minerva, "And...and something's wrong with Minerva! What's going on!?"

~ 0 ~

The Doctor angrily glanced back at the supreme Dalek with one hand on the door and handled, "What did you do? Let them out!"

Zohar quickly ran back to the TARDIS, trying to jiggle it open as well, "Minerva?" she called.

"This is not of Dalek origin," the supreme Dalek answered back.

"Doctor!" Donna shouted from the other side, banging on the door.

"Stop it! My girlfriend and friend are in there! Now, open the door and let them out!" the Doctor furiously ordered.

"This is Time Lord treachery!" the supreme Dalek came out with instead.

"Me!?" the Doctor frowned, "Me?! The door just closed on its own!"

"Nevertheless: the TARDIS is a weapon and it will be destroyed."

And promptly, the TARDIS fell through a trapdoor that opened underneath it.

~ 0 ~

Inside the box, Donna and Minerva stumbled about as they plummeted through a long tunnel. But even then Minerva wouldn't utter one yell. It seemed to Donna like the woman was in...shock?

~ 0 ~

The Doctor and Zohar stared down the trapdoor in horror, "What're you doing?! Bring it back!" the Doctor shouted at the Daleks.

~ 0 ~

Donna hung onto the railings for support, "Doctor!" she yelled, Minerva fell forwards.

~ 0 ~

"What've you done!? Where's it going!?" the Doctor entered a state of panic and urgency. His Clever Girl and her ginger sister were down there!

"The Crucible has a heart of Z-Neutrino Energy. The TARDIS will be deposited into the core," the supreme Dalek said.

"But you can't," Zohar's voice broke, dropping to her knees as she stared down the dark pit the trap door had, "...there's no defenses anymore..."

The Doctor was now in horror, "It'll be torn apart!"

~ 0 ~

The TARDIS landed into the core that was more like a burning ball of fire...

Inside, the lights of the console smashed while small fires were springing up around the grilling, making both women scream.

"Hot..." Minerva breathed, more like gasped as she felt her air begin to thin around her.

~ 0 ~

"But Donna and Minerva are still in there!" Rose moved towards the supreme Dalek.

All feelings set aside, Minerva...didn't deserve to die. After all, Minerva had once risked her life for her in Torchwood. Rose was angry not evil.

"Let them go!" Jack angrily yelled.

~ 0 ~

Minerva yelped and landed against the side of the console chairs while Donna crouched down by the console, also giving small screams and shielding herself from the small explosions. She looked up and saw the blue light was still with them, "Help us, friend," she tried calling, only coughing in the end.

But the light continued to make circles up above.

~ 0 ~

"The females and the TARDIS will perish together! Observe," the supreme Dalek declared.

A holographic screen appeared above the group that showed the TARDIS simply bobbing in the energy. The Doctor moved forwards, his face full of dread. He had once again failed, he simply could not keep his Clever Girl safe at all could he?

"The last child of Gallifrey is powerless," the supreme Dalek said.

~ 0 ~

Minerva coughed violently as smoke took over the air, "It's too hot..." she tried breathing but it was of no use anymore, there was nothing left to breathe that wasn't hot.

A little ahead of her, Donna choked on the smoke as well even while she tried her best to cover her mouth and nose.

~ 0 ~

"Please. I'm begging you, I'll do anything!" the Doctor implored to the supreme Dalek, "Put me in their places! You can do anything to me, I don't care, just get them out of there!" he shook in fury in frustration and fear.

He couldn't watch Minerva once again die in the pits of fire, and now she'd die with Donna too?

~ 0 ~

Donna was beside the Doctor's hand in the jar, still coughing and panting from the awful air. She couldn't look back anymore to see what happened to Minerva, but she knew that the air was turning extremely, viably, hot that she just...wouldn't be able to resist for much longer. Suddenly, Donna stopped at the sound of that pesky heartbeat again. An ethereal glow from the Doctor's hand reflected onto her face.

Minerva could see Donna begin to reach for the jar, "No, Donna..." she breathed lightly, using all her remaining force to push herself away from the chair and towards her ginger sister, "Meta-crisis..." she whispered, reaching for Donna, "...no..." she put a hand on Donna's arm just as the ginger had touched the jar.

The orange regeneration energy engulfed the women but blasted Minerva to the wall. There was a cracking sound from her necklace as she landed on her knees. She fell to the floor on her side, her necklace breaking open at the second blow from the ground.

~ 0 ~

The Doctor watched the screen through gritted teeth, seeing no possible way Minerva or Donna could survive this. Minerva had managed to escape death twice and this...this was just impossible. He'd lost her forever and it was his fault again.

"You are connected to the TARDIS. Now, feel it die," the supreme Dalek said.

Zohar moved up, her eyes watery as she stared at the screen.

~ 0 ~

Donna found herself almost immune to the destruction of the TARDIS and so hurriedly crawled over to Minerva who laid on the floor with her eyes closed. Donna lifted Minerva's hand and felt no pulse, making her eyes widen. But then she saw small waves of a darker blue color and silver light coming up from Minerva's broken necklace.

"What the..." Donna followed the light up, and saw the regular blue light rushing down.

The two lights swirled together morphing into one...and then rushed inside Minerva's body.

"No!" Donna shouted, knowing what that could mean to her clever sister, "You get out of there!" she gripped Minerva's hand as she waved her other hand over Minerva as if fanning the light out. It was too early for any of that to be happening! Who knows what it could do to Minerva!

Instead, Donna saw how the blue light started making its way over to her hand...her arm, "Wh-what are you doing?" she trembled as she felt a prickly cold ice start at her hand.

Behind her, unaware, the Doctor's hand was completely engulfed with the orange energy. Its fingers twitched for a second or two before the energy spread outwards from the hand and into the shape of a man.

"St-stop..." Donna's voice broke as the light engulfed her entirely.

When the orange energy's shape was fully formed it sat up abruptly. The energy shook off from it and revealed a second Doctor with wide eyes and completely naked. At the same time, Donna dropped on her side on the floor, opposite of Minerva.

"Oh...no," the new Doctor blinked at the sight.

[nyssausage]

Companions getting back

Susan got stranded on mars causing the crispy master, then somehow got back to gallifrey, got a tardis, and time travelled with ping cho. During their time travels they of course met the other companions.

Vicki, I imagine that the rescue team found her and she's now Administrator Pallister of UNIT. She time travels through UNIT.

Steven, he got left by the Doctor against his will, so of course just after the Doctor is gone, he goes back to Earth and is eventually Spacefleet Brigadier Taylor of UNIT. So he can time travel too.

Ben and Polly, they're propably just off frame chatting to Barbara, maybe with children and grandchildren too. And Dodo is also chatting to them or Steven.

Victoria, you know how her father invented a time machine? And how the Harrises were only a lil older than her and did'nt want her? Well, when shes in our present she's part of the support group, in the past she has that academy in Tibet and of course has her son Edward Travers, who would be born in 1891, 39 years younger than Victoria, and thus her youngest child to Victoria and her husband Lyndon, thus also making her the sister in law to Ben Travers who would be born in 1861 and thus 9 years younger than Victoria. What, you don't think Travers is the son to Victoria? Of course he is. He looks a lot like Victoria (since Jack and Deborah Watling are father and daughter), his name is the same as Victoria's father, and he is tied with the same university\location that Victoria ends up working at. He is pretending that he is'nt Victoria's son because he can't reveal such until Season 6B. Which is why Moffat invented River Song. Or something.

Jamie and Zoe, I think they got their memories back during 6B, and are able to time travel through Victoria.

The UNIT guys and Liz, of course they're there. Maybe they're just offscreen.

Harry was one of the Cybermen in Missy's army, and then he was in Trap Street, could he have got a shimmer of his physical self? Or maybe he could still be alive and got back from being lost in the jungle.

Sarah Jane, with so many time shenanigans around I bet someone managed to resurrect her under a new alias or something. Or they could time travel to somewhen before she dies.

Leela and Romana, well, Romana would be Lord President of Gallifrey, Leela would be her companion but also have a life back on her planet, she could have a son with Calib and daughter with Tomas to continue the legacy of the Sevateem. Or maybe she has her Tesh husband from that other timeline, they could unify the two tribes. Which means they could also visit. And Romana also time travels with Narvin, Braxatiel, and Duggan.

Adric, maybe Ashildr could save him. He could get back to E-Space. But he'd be on Trap Street at one point.

Nyssa, well, apparently she married Tegan, I'd assume Terminus could have some time travel capabilities to get Nyssa back with Tegan and the rest of the Space Teenagers. Of course she could still usually be on Terminus.

Turlough, apparently he's Trion's Emperor and also opened the CVE's. Maybe he has a Trion Imperial Battleship or something like that, Adric could work there, they could pair up Adric and Turlough.

I also want new Trion, Traken, and Alzarius scenes. Yes. If Gallifrey and Skaro can be brought back so can Traken, where Luvic gives his Keepership to someone less midwitted so the planet can go back to N-Space.

Peri fricked off back to Earth as soon as Yrcanos keeled over, and propably married Grace Holloway. Or maybe not.

Mel got to Earth via Glitz. And propably is married to Ace.

Rose and Mia could end up getting back to the main universe, through Torchwood. Jack Harkness too.

The Smith-Jones family is propably just offscreen.

Donna Noble, propably she got her memories back somehow, perhaps through Clara and Ashildr or through the Celestial Toymaker.

Amy and Rory propably got to go back home through River, Clara+Ashildr, or Bill+Heather.

Clara and Ashildr, Bill and Heather, those are immortal time travelling couples and could come back that way.

And the fam, Ryan's propably just offscreen.

[silversweetpea]

Where It Starts

Word Count:3976

Pairing: Steven Grant x Reader

Summary: You can’t tell if it takes you a day a week or a month to fall in love with Steven. You just know that you do. 

Warnings: There’s a Super Super Super brief description of bandaged wounds in the Friday section. there’s nothing graphic but just in case you should know that’s there.

Author’s Note: Hi I’m still obsessed with him your honor. It is once again, not beta read because somehow the idea of roping one of my friends into proofreading my unhinged softness is too embaressing for me ajlkfjdslfjdlksajflkdjas

❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀

It starts on a Tuesday at noon. 

You hate Tuesdays of course, you’ve always had an issue with them since you were little, the first one to throw them under the bus in defense of Mondays. This Tuesday was particularly bad though, as if the whole of the universe had ganged up on you to make you regret ever learning the name for the worst day of the week. 

Some of your boxes were still missing in the mail meaning that the outfit you had picked out weeks ago for your very important interview for museum archivist that had been one of the main reasons for moving this far away from home was also still missing in the mail somewhere, your hair refused to do what you wanted it to despite doing an extensive amount of pampering towards it last night and your alarm clock had decided not to go off at all so you were left with the bare minimum amount of time thanks to your ‘get your ass out the door’ alarm you had set on your phone just in case.

Your outfit wasn’t bad per say, there was a reason it had made it through the purge for the move but it wasn’t the outfit. You couldn’t stop trying to press it flat under your palms as you stood on the cramped bus that you were still anxiously double checking on your phone was the correct one to take when you saw him the first time.

He was tall, for sure, but not in an abnormal way that stood out amongst the variety of the crowd and although the mops of dark curls on his head kept falling into his eyes you were struck by just how exhausted his gaze seemed. His head kept resting on his chest, body swaying where it stood ever so slightly. 

The majority of your brain worried for him, for the way that he seemed to shrink himself down where he stood. The minority, was kinda glad that someone else was having a shitty day too. 

The minority segment that quickly fell quiet when he also stepped off at the museum. 

Not that you thought he was following you, there was also a tourist couple with polaroid cameras around their necks that stepped off behind you and an elderly woman that was first out. No, it was just that as he stepped out he stumbled and the majority brain won out as you walked closer to him. You may not know quite what to say to him, but you could at least catch him if he went to topple over.

You don’t see him when you split off towards the information desk to ask where you should wait for your interview, nor do you see him on the way to the curator’s office. It isn’t until you’re being led out that you catch sight of him again and you catch a clear sight of his name tag. Steven.

Or maybe it starts on a Wednesday. It’s late and your head feels like its swimming after having hours of information crammed into it, some useful and some...less so. You were fairly certain you could have gone without the in depth tour of the museum floors that Donna, your quite abrupt guide, had insisted on. 

But then again, it had meant that you were able to see Steven again. You were certain about his name this time.

You heard him before you saw him, his soothing voice excited as he walked a visitor through the story of Isis and Osiris. His whole body seems awake for the first time since you’d seen him, his hands were moving wildly, gesturing to the art around him, moving through the motions to further emphasize his point, directing the gaze of the young boy to the sarcophagus and then ensnaring him back into the story just as quickly. He was in the middle of detailing their plan of decoy temples, eyes sparkling like a night sky with how dark they were, how full of potential. Donna sighed and it made your stomah roll over, like the second of hesitation before the rollercoaster goes flying downwards and you barely have time to open your mouth, a feeble attempt to distract her, before she’s speaking. 

“Oi, Stevie, back to the shop and stop harassing the visitors,” The light dies and his hands drop to his side within seconds. The shoulders that had just been so broad, so expressive, now small and curled inwards like a puppy who’s nose had been whacked with a newspaper roll. 

“It’s Steven, actually, with a v,” His voice is quiet, so much more reserved and so much more disappointed but lacking in surprise. Donna doesn’t even slow her steps as Steven disegages from the visitor he had been talking to, and you can’t help but let yourself fall a few steps behind her. You know exactly what awaits you in the next wing of the museum, but here, at the gift shop counter, is a brand new exhibit to learn about. 

You cast a single glance ahead of yourself to make sure that you’re not being too terribly missed before taking a deep breathe and moving decidedly off course. 

“You said it’s Steven?” His head whips up, fast enough that his dark curls are still in motion after it stops and you can’t fight the smile that tugs at your lips. The gift shopist’s eyes are dark and wide, you’re certain if you took just few steps closer you’d be able to see yourself in their reflection, but you’re still looking for that sparkle to come back into them from a few minutes ago. 

“I’m sorry?” It’s quiet still, not as disappointed, and half an octave higher from surprise, but you like the way his voice sounds. You wonder for just a second what your name would sound like, or if he sings. 

“Your name? Donna called you Stevie but I want to make sure I get it right now instead of a year from now, you know?” The man blinks, eyes comically wide, mouth opening ever so slightly, and you think about whether all of his expressions are so easily read. 

“Y-Yeah. Uhm, Steven, Steven Grant.” His hands jump about in front of him, as if he can’t decide what to do with them and the idea of the handsome stranger in front of you unsure whether or not he should shake you hand somehow just endears him more to you. You decide after just a second to stick out your own hand and take his with a small shake. 

“Nice to meet you Steven, I’m-”

“(Y/N)! We’re on a schedule here!” Donna’s voice is curt and you wince, but even through that you smile. It’s hard not to when Steven is still looking at you like you’ve just told him he’s won a million dollars purely by asking his name and shaking his hand.  

“Apparently in trouble. I’ll see you around, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” It’s more of a breath than an answer but you smile anyways and when you drop his hand you miss its warmth immediately. Donna doesn’t tear into you, she can’t since you’re technically above her on the food chain, but the rest of the tour is tense and annoyed. Maybe if you were in a more people pleasing mood you’d care. Hell if you thought that she was someone worth getting to know maybe you would care. Instead, you were busy thinking about the way that you could feel his eyes lingering on you as you walked away. 

Or maybe, It starts on a Thursday, when the sun is bright and the bus is emptier than normal and Steven, beautiful Steven, is about to miss the bus. It’s a split second decision, but really, wasn’t your move? 

“Excuse me! I’m sorry but can I ask you something real quick?” The bus driver pauses in her process of closing the door and looks at you. She’s annoyed but but she stops nonetheless and as you putter out a question about what route this bus goes on. You aren’t entirely sure she believes your doe eyed act of confusion, especially since you’re about fifty percent sure that she’s the same driver as yesterday, but the momentary pause allows Steven to get to the door just fine and that’s worth the potential embarrassment. 

“Hello? I’m really sorry but can you, maybe, open the door? I slept through my alarm and-” the sound of the door opening cuts Steven off and he all but slinks into his seat, head down, shoulders up, black messenger bag glued to his chest. You don’t think he even looks up to see why the bus stopped, and when you say thank you to the driver who’s now eyeing the pair of you its a quick few steps to where he’s collapsed.

“Bad morning?” There’s the whiplash again, and if its possible, Steven looks more nervous to see you standing there.

“You could say that.” His response comes out sounding like an awkward laugh and you do your best to nod sympathetically without getting too lost in the wave of embarrassment that comes with your own memories of mornings such as those. 

“Sorry, I know what thats like.” Steven is laughs again, eyes not looking at you and you’re not sure if he’s uncomfortable or just not. “Is it okay if I sit?”

“Oh, Oh! Yes, of course. Sorry, I just you’re, I’m, sit. Please.” He looks like he’s going to jump out of his skin but it’s cute. So far everything he’s done is cute to you, not that you would dare tell anyone else that yet. Gods, barely three weeks in and you’re hopelessly infatuated with a coworker that probably thinks you’re stalking him considering you share a route.

“Sorry I didn’t get a chance to come back yesterday. I was down in the records room and when I came back up everyone had already gone. I figured you had too.” There’s the shock again, honestly you’d wonder if he had any other expressions if it weren’t for the way his smile lingered in your thoughts even now. 

“Oh, it’s alright-” You’re already shaking your head fondly as he tries to brush off your apology but your hands are already in your bag digging out a prop. 

“No, really, I wanted to say thank you for this. I mean, I’m assuming it’s from you after all,” Its a beautiful journal and its one Steven recognizes if the way that he sputters to a stop is any indication. The cover is a deep brown with lotus designs etched into the spine, minimal and soft and on the inside had been just a simple sticky note. 

I hope this works okay, it reminded me of you. 

You still had the sticky note in the front cover, afraid to move it in case you lost if somewhere. 

“Well, I mean, you said that you needed a new journal last week when you brought your notes to lunch so I just figured you might like one that’s a bit more decorative than one from the pound shop.” Steven’s eyes immediately move away and out the window, hands coming up in front of him as he begins to babble nervously. “Not that there’s anything wrong with those of course! I almost always use those since I end up misplacing them in my flat ever few days. I keep meaning to clean up my shelves but I never quite get around to it.”

“Steven, it’s beautiful. Thank you. Although for the record, next time you’re in the mood to get me a present I’m more than happy with just a card from the pound shop. It’s more about who’s giving the gift than what it is.” There’s another passing of smiles, and you make a note to slip your own gift of a new pair of headphone (more of a gag gift really, considering that they were shapped like goldfish) into his locker. 

Or maybe It comes on a Friday when there’s been months of shared commutes and stored away tidbits about his life. You know he lives alone and that he has a fish named gus and that he definetly, absolutely, beyond a shadow of a doubt, belonged in a tour guide position instead of stuck behind a gift shop counter. 

You know that he leaves sometimes and never seems to remember where he’s been. You thought he was lying the first few times he left but then you’d seen him try to lie about something and, well, he wasn’t very good at it. 

You know that Steven Grant is an enigma that doesn’t even seem aware of his own contradictories. 

“And of course, at that point, he just decides that he’s tired of the shenanigans so he goes to report to the temple and-” You don’t mean to cut him off. Not really, you like to hear his stories of myths and legends, you like to see how excited he gets over the retellings of tales centuries past. But your eyes won’t leave his wrist, won’t leave the rusty colored stains that your gut won’t stop turning over and over at the sight of. 

“Are you okay?” It’s abrupt, you know it is, and you almost feel bad given that something in his face changes when you glance upwards to it. Your gaze doesn’t linger, it can’t. Not when there’s still that injury that Steven hasn’t even acknowledged yet.

“Oh, sure, just got a bit cut up...picking up some glass! Right, yes, I was moving Gus to a new tank and I dropped the old one and I wasn’t as careful as I should have been I guess.” Steven tugs at the end of his sleeve self consciously and you swallow hard. You know that he’s lying though before your eyes move away from the wrap.

“You picked up glass...with your wrist?” You almost feel bad for pressing when he shifts in his seat, silence dragging on for just a second too long as he tried to find a story to tell you.

“I dropped it on my wrist.” It’s phrased like a statment but Steven’s voice lifts at the end which makes it sound like even he’s not sure of what he’s saying. 

“Right. You made sure to disinfect it, right? And you’re keeping an eye out for infection?” Now it’s Steven that swallows hard, looking utterly uncomfortable at your worry, but it only seems to fan the flame in your chest. “Did it cut very deep? That’s a lot of wrapping for a surface wound.”

“I’m fine, promise (y/n).” It’s 

“My definition of fine or yours?” Steven can’t seem to decide whether or not to look away. He stares at you like you’re blinding, his eyes watering at the edges like he’s fighting the urge to blink or cry and you’re not sure which makes more sense. Which is easier for your brain to hold onto. 

You move slowly, scared to spook him worse than you already have but desperate to get through to him. It’s only when your hand wraps ever so gently around his wrist, when you hear his breath stick in his throat but he doesn’t pull away that you speak again. 

“You need to take care of yourself, okay? You have my number, if nothing else call me so I can make sure it’s clean and you’re not making it worse by ignoring it.” Your mother had always said you were a worrier and yeah, you probably were, but the thought of Steven sitting alone in his apartment wrapping his own wound made your heart ache.

“Okay.” He whispered and you shook your head, holiding ever so slightly tighter to his hand.

“I mean it. Promise me you’ll call next time Steven.” You were right, all those weeks ago when you thought about seeing your own reflection, you can. It should be humbling to see yourself so worked up over a hypothetical situation but you can only see the same eyes that you always loose yourself in, like Alice falling down the rabbit hole. 

“I promise.” It’s spoken like an oath, and for the first time, he squeezes your hand back. It’s barely more than the ghost of a pressure but it’s enough that you know he’s trying, that he’s reciprocating in the way that he knows how to in that moment and the fear begins to slip away bit by bit. 

“Thank you.” You don’t let go of his hand, but you do give him a weak smile. “You were telling me about the robber? He was about to turn himself in?”

“Right, right,” Steven’s gaze falls to your hands, still connected, but he doesn’t pull away and you don’t either. Just gently hold his hand in yours as he begins his story again and by the time you reach the museum you’re certain that your hand will never feel right without it there ever again.

Maybe it starts on a Saturday when he's gone and you're not sure where. He hadn’t been to work the past few days and he wasn’t answering your texts, but Steven was always a big hard to get ahold of. You had learned that if he went more than a few minutes without answering you likely weren’t bound to get one for a day or two at least.

You still texted him, and called, of course. He had let slip once that he sometimes had problems telling what day of the week it was so even if you didn’t do anything else you tried to work that into your voicemails and texts so that when he did get them he could trace the days back to the present. And if you were able to give him a little bit of a reminder that someone was out there that carred about him, even when he wasn’t around for them to say it to him directly, in the process all the better. 

“Anyways Love, I hope you’re having a great day and that you’re remembering to rest! Donna can mind her business when you come in, I’ll help you forge a hospital note if needs be. Call me when you get a chance, and in the meantime, drink some water! Love you!” The phone is signed off, tucked away in your purse, and your groceries that you had been carrying fully brought into your apartment across the street from his when it sinks in what you said. 

You don’t regret it, even as you feel the earth opening up to swallow you whole, body burning with embaressment that you’re eternally grateful no one lives with you to witness. You hadn’t meant to say it, not like that, but you won’t take it back. You do love him after all, and if he asks about it you can always tell him the truth of the matter that you sign off most of your calls with your friends and family the same way, its force of habit nothing more. You’re a much better liar than he is after all.

Still, as you stare at your phone and wait for him to call, wait for him to text, wait for a knock at the door, you wonder if you have it in you to lie about the way he makes you feel. The way that his enthusiasm for what he loves makes you feel giddy yourself, the way that you’ve taken to packing an extra thermos of tea along with a drink for yourself in the morning, because he’s always running late or forgetting his, the way that he remembers what you tell him, even if it’s a throw away comment, and remembers to ask about it later on down the line. It’s like coming home in a sense, he makes you feel like everything will be okay even as you’re struggling to adapt to such a new environment all at once.

When you see him next he doesn’t ask about the call and you don’t offer him an answer, just watch him smile a little bit more than normal and fidget ever so slightly with your coat sleeves as you say good morning. 

Or maybe, just maybe, it starts on a Sunday, when it’s the middle of the night. You can’t sleep, your brain turning over the past few days, the prolonged absences of Steven and the way he’d been more and more cagey, startled by every noise and movement. He’d been better about calling when he was hurt, it wasn’t a failsafe situation and more often than not he didn’t have an answer for how he got hurt when you did get over to his flat, but it helped to soothe your own anxiety about him not taking care of himself. 

Maybe it starts with a quiet ask for help, for comfort, to come visit you because he feels like he’s loosing his mind and you say yes because it’s Steven and he’s scared and you love him. You’d never say it, don’t think your heart could take the shatter that would be his refusal. You weren’t sure when it started, this love, this all encompassing worry and warmth cocktail you carried in your chest like a martini glass two sizes too small. It was constantly on the brim, ready to spill if you moved ever so slightly too fast. You just know that one day Steven was someone you watched on the bus and the next he was your best friend. number one confidant, and biggest crush wrapped into one.

Maybe it starts when Steven opens the door, panicked and on the verge of collapsing and you don’t think, don’t hesitate, just gently pull him inside and open your arms to him. A move that he hesitates against accepting for just a moment before melting into you.

Maybe it starts with consoling, with comfort, with the promise that no matter where he goes, no matter what he does or doesn’t know about himself you’re going to be there for him. You don’t tell him that you would rather follow him into a nightmare than live a dream without him. You don’t know if you have the strength you’d need if he rejected you. 

Maybe it starts with Steven, looking up at you, eyes watery and heart rapid and hands shaky, in a quiet voice telling you that he doesn’t know what he would do without you. 

Maybe it starts with inviting him to spend the night, to take the bed while you take the couch, or when Steven rebuts that and says that he’ll stay but only if he takes the couch and you take the bed or when you, with a sleepy smile, offer to just share the bed with him, that way he can wake you easier if he needs you - and not just because you’ve been looking for an excuse to get closer to him all night. To smell his shampoo and wrap your arms around him and have his arms wrapped around you.

Maybe it starts when he agrees and you’re laying in bed, talking quietly about anything and everything and nothing at all and the conversation fizzles out as you look at him, and the words leave you at 11:59 pm before you can stop them. Your heart took advantage of the way your brain was swaddled in softness, rode the high that came with this casual intimacy of falling asleep next to each other.

“Steven, would it be okay if I kissed you?”

Or maybe it starts at 12:00 am when his hand reaches for yours under the cover and his response comes shaky and slow as he leans in towards you. 

“Are you sure you want to?” His voice drips with caution, but there's something under it, something that sounds needy in the same way you feel. Even as he cranes towards you, even as you all but feel the way his breathing picks up, your hear swells with affection that he waits for you to be so careful with your heart.

Or maybe it starts when you answer him with a kiss.

[heisenberg-simp257]

Hello ! Can I please request how the four lords from RE8 would react to their S/O being a large werewolf that has some control over the other lycans? If not I understand, please and thank you for your time!

Sure thing! No problem!❤

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The Lords with their S/O being a Large Werewolf 

Alcina Dimitrescu

-Dimitrescu would be kind of disturbed by the fact you look like a large wolf. Only because I see her as being more of a cat person than dog person, if any kind of person.

-However, she appreciates how well you take care of yourself.

-You understand that she is a lady who likes a clean environment. So, you make sure to keep your fur off any of her clothes or furniture.

-Also, you know she despises the lycans, so you use your dominance over the beasts to keep them away from her castle. Maybe send them over to someone she despises *cough* Heisy *cough*

-Werewolf cuddles with her daughters are a thing.

-She makes sure that you get well fed. Maybe a couple of the maids who displeased her. After all, you are the only dog she cares about.

-If this was Mother Miranda’s doing, Dimitrescu might start to have some mixed feelings about her. I mean, she might’ve appreciated you more as a human than a werewolf.

-However, she still loves you, and makes sure you are pampered. Gives you baths all the time.

Donna Beneviento (and Angie)

-Donna would be weirdly chill about the whole thing. You’d think she’d be afraid of a large werewolf, but that’s something she’s actually into. A secret passion of hers, large scary monsters.

-You were also quite a good dog, and Donna loved having you around for company.

-She would grow all sorts of flowers for you to enjoy, given your highly keen nose. And, werewolf or human, she would definitely try to braid some flowers through your hair/fur.

-You manage to keep most of the lycans away, maybe also killing a few that disobey. The lycans scare Donna, and you don’t like seeing your lady scared.

-Catch Angie trying to ride on your back at least once. It’s like watching a bronc at the rodeo.

-The only time she got mad at you is when you accidentally chewed apart one of her dolls. Angry Donna is a horror show that you never wish to see again.

-She makes you the absolute best food and gives you plenty of pets.

-Werewolf cuddles with her are a big thing. Donna just grabs a blanket and you both just nap by the fire.

Salvatore Moreau

-Moreau would find you as a large werewolf to be absolutely incredible. For starters, you were a lot better looking than most of the lycans. (Also, props to Moreau is he was the one who managed to turn you because you are a fine specimen).

-Good thing you are intelligent because he’s not the best of taking care of things. After all, he doesn’t like having to feed things.

-You make his lycan experimentations go so much smoother because of your dominant position among the lycans. You are able to keep them under control.

-Lucky for him, you love the water. This means big fish Moreau vs. werewolf you in an epic splash fight.

-Honestly loves to pet you fur. I canon Moreau to have a passion for soft things, so he just loves to feel your soft fur. Also, brushing it is a big thing.

-Movie time is when he can really have some wolf cuddles.

-He treats you so kindly, so you vow to protect fish boy at all costs. The carnage you leave some lycans in is horrifying.

-Moreau brags about you all the time to the point where even Dimitrescu is ready to carve him into sashimi.

Karl Heisenberg

-Heisenberg absolutely loves the fact that you are a large werewolf. Heck, he’s probably the closest among the Lords to being near what you are in terms of the lycans that is.

-Understands that even though you can be human, you still have some wolf needs. Gives you a big wrench to chew on.

-Okay, some of the stuff he does, like the one above, is kind of like a tease. He’s knows you are competent, but can’t help but smirk while treating you like a good loyal dog.

-Definitely would say “good boy” or “good girl” or something along those lines to tease you slightly.

-Unlike the other Lords, he has you call in the lycans because he wants his experiments to fight them. Sometimes, Heisenberg will also use you as a final test if you are okay with it.

-He hopes one day he can rally his metal army and you can rally the lycans, and the two of you can go kick Miranda’s ass together.

-As a werewolf, you give him lots of puppy love. I mean a bunch of licking, nuzzling, and tail wagging. He would try to push you away and pretend he doesn’t like it.

-Keeps you a secret from the others and Miranda if he can. You are his and his alone.

[doctorslove]

Having the Blues

Hey anon!! I love this request so much I had a lot of fun with it and I hope you enjoy it!!!! <3 I love me some ten fluff.

Also I added Wilfred to the story along with Donna because I love him and I'm very soft for his relationship with the Doctor.

Summary: You need to go back home for a few days and the Doctor gets sad without you. No matter how much he denies it, Donna and Wilfred are not oblivious to his love for you and will do their best to get the two of you together.

Angst with a fluffy ending and the Doctor being crazy about you 😌

Tenth Doctor x Reader

The reader uses she/her pronouns

Words: 1946

“Feeling blue, Spaceman?” Donna asked with a teasing tone.

The Doctor lifted his head to meet her gaze. “Hmm?”

“She leaves for just a couple of days and look at him,” she said as if she was talking to an invisible audience.

He glared at her and she smiled.

One of Donna’s favorite pastimes was making fun of the Doctor for his crush on you. She had not managed to get him to admit it yet but he really didn’t have to. It was so obvious that he was in love with you that she was genuinely surprised how someone as clever as you hadn’t noticed.

His love for you was everywhere. It was behind every longing look he’d give you, thinking that no one would notice; behind every kiss he’d leave on your forehead after a long day; behind every hug, and every smile, and every worried expression he’d wear when you were upset.

Donna knew because of course she did. The Doctor was her best friend; she knew what was going on in his hearts. But exactly because he was her best friend it also pained her seeing him this melancholic.

She had seen the look on his face when you’d said you had to go back to Earth for a few days to see your family and friends. His reaction was supportive but she could tell that his smile was sad. He’d miss you. This dumbo! The two of you would become a couple by the end of this week if she had any say in the matter. And she’d do the best she could.

“I was thinking of visiting gramps tonight. How about you come with me? So you feel a little less lonely.”

“I’m not lonely, Donna,” he replied with a flat tone.

“Sure. So are you coming or not?”

He gave her a long stare, remaining quiet.

“Fine.”

--

“Is everything okay, Doctor?”

Wilfred’s voice made him realize he was not paying attention to the conversation they were having. Visiting Donna’s grandpa with her was not helping him escape his thoughts about you like she had promised him.

“What?” he asked playing with his ear, still processing Wilfred’s words. “Yeah, why?”

“You’ve been talking much less than usual. I’m a bit worried about you to be honest.”

“Why does everyone think I’m not okay? I’m perfectly fine!” he snapped.

“Ohhh…” Wilfred said lifting his eyebrows, turning his head towards Donna who already had a knowing look on her face. “Seems like you were right.”

“Told ya.”

“Wait, right about what?” the Doctor asked looking all confused.

“About you being in love with that friend of yours, Y/N.”

“I’m…Wha-....Who…That’s n-… Donna!”

“Oh come on, Doctor, it’s just the three of us here. You can say it,” she replied to his nonsense.

“I can’t believe you two gossip about my personal life when I’m not around,” he complained after a long pause.

“What else are we supposed to do?” Donna said, returning to the table the other two were sitting at, serving them some tea.

Wilfred laughed but he reached out his hand to hold the Doctor’s. “Why are you torturing yourself over this? Why don’t you just tell her?”

“It’s not that simple,” he replied. It was obvious by his voice how much the subject hurt him. The thought of never getting to have you completely his made his chest tighten.

“Why not?”

The Doctor exhaled by his nose; a failed attempt for a laugh. “Why not... You know who I am. What I am.”

Donna and Wilfred were silent, looking serious this time.

“But all of that doesn’t matter anyway. She only sees me as a friend.”

“Now that’s not true!” Donna exclaimed.

“Yeah it is.”

“You can’t know that. Not until you tell her.”

“Can we stop talking about this? You were supposed to be cheering me up.”

“Oh Doctor…” Wilfred squeezed his hand even tighter. “You might be much older than me but I still see you as a son. And as a dad I would tell you to go get the girl you love. When you find love you keep it. You never let it go.”

The Doctor’s hearts were breaking while listening to him.

“I know you can’t have forever with her,” he continued, “and I know that it hurts and I’m so sorry, but letting the time you do have with her slip away would be a huge mistake.”

“And what if she doesn’t feel the same? What if I tell her and I end up losing her? Losing her even earlier.”

“Then that’s a risk you’ll have to take.”

Donna smiled sadly at her friend. She had a plan for the following day.

--

You heard your doorbell ring. You stood up from your desk quickly and ran to see who it was only to find Donna standing at your door.

“Donna, what are you doing here? Did something happen? Is the Doctor okay?”

“Whoa whoa, relax, nothing happened,” she smiled trying to calm you down. “I just wanted to see you.”

You exhaled with relief. “Sorry. I just didn’t expect to see you here. Come in.”

While you were leading both of you to the living room, many thoughts came to your mind. Was everything really okay or did she want to tell you something bad and was just trying to bring it up carefully?

“I’m a bit worried,” you vocalized your worries. “You knew I’m coming back tonight, what’s so important you wanna tell me that couldn’t wait?”

“I just wanted us to be alone. Without the Doctor.”

“Oh…” you said, intrigued, settling next to her on the couch. “What is it?”

“Well I…I’m gonna be forward about it.”

“Okay…”

She took a deep breath.

“Do you have feelings for the Doctor?”

You were not expecting that question. You blushed and turned your gaze down to your lap.

“I knew it!” she shouted with pure happiness.

“Donna!”

“You two are such idiots, I don’t know what I'm gonna do with you. If you didn’t have me, I swear…”

You were staring at her, looking absolutely lost.

She smiled softly at you. “You’re in love with him, right?”

There was no point in denying it, the secret was out already. You nodded yes.

“Well you’re in luck because this dumbass of a spaceman is head over heels in love with you.”

“He is?” you asked, feeling your heart melt.

“Oh like crazy!”

At no other time in your life had you ever felt this many butterflies fill your chest and stomach. You could not believe that your best friend, your love, who you thought would never see you the way you saw him, was in love with you. In love. The Doctor loved you.

You let out a dreamy sigh. “He…he loves me. Donna he loves me,” you giggled covering your mouth with both of your hands.

“I know!” she said, joining your laughter and taking you in her arms.

--

Oh you were going to give him the biggest kiss in the world.

Donna stayed for a long time and told you all about the Doctor’s feelings for you and how worried he was that you didn’t love him back. It broke your heart to think of him being sad because of you. This would end tonight.

She didn’t join you back to the TARDIS. You both thought it would be better if it was just you and the Doctor there to talk freely about your feelings.

You thanked her for everything though and gave her the biggest hug you could along with the promise that you’d bake for her her favorite cookies.

Before you knew it you were standing in front of the TARDIS.

--

“She’ll love this one,” the Doctor whispered to himself, writing down on a piece of paper, adding the name of a planet he wanted to visit with you on a list along with others. This planet’s land was your favorite color. He could just imagine your beautiful smile when you’d see it for the first time.

Maybe then…Maybe that would be a good time to talk to you. A romantic place for a romantic talk. Hopefully.

“Doctor?”

He heard your sweet voice and ran to the door.

“You’re back!” He gave you his largest smile and took you in his arms, lifting you from the floor, and giving you a little spin. “Oh I missed you!”

“I missed you too, Doctor. So much.”

You nuzzled your face against his neck. You really had missed him. And now you were back; back to your home; to your comfort; to him.

After a long moment of trying to get enough of each other, you let go. His arms were still lingering around you and the stare the two of you shared was starting to fill with tension.

Your breathing was fast, looking into his eyes. He was handsome. So handsome you couldn’t think of anything else sometimes.

He grabbed your hand, breaking the tension. “Come on,” he said with excitement, leading you to the console. “See what I made while you were away.”

It was a list of places he wanted to visit with you. He started explaining what each of them was. Every single one of them had a reason to be added there. And every reason was related to you or your interests. On one of them, for example, grew a pretty flower that you had seen that one time in one of his books and had mentioned you wanted to see in person; another planet's name sounded like yours.

God he was so sweet. You had never thought you’d meet someone who'd care for you like he did; especially someone as lovely as him.

“Doctor?” you interrupted him.

“Yeah?” He turned to look at you with a soft expression.

You couldn’t resist the urge to kiss him. So you didn’t.

You placed a hand on his cheek and brought your lips together. You felt him tremble against you but a few seconds later he wrapped his arms around you and brought you impossibly close.

The Doctor let out a little moan while deepening the kiss. Oh yeah he would be the end of you.

This was by far the happiest moment of your life.

You kissed, and kissed, and kissed for a very long moment until you had to stop to get some oxygen back to your system.

You stayed close though, your bodies touching just like your foreheads did.

“I love you,” you said sounding breathless.

He smiled.

You promised to yourself that you were gonna kiss that smile all night long.

“Oh Y/N…I love you too. I love you.”

The two of you laughed overwhelmed by joy and the Doctor brought your head to his chest, holding you close.

“Did Donna have something to do with this sudden expression of feelings?” he asked.

“She absolutely did.”

He chuckled. “I knew she was up to something, she was acting so sneaky all day.”

You looked up to him. “I’m glad she did.”

“Me too, darling.”

He left a little kiss on the tip of your nose. You gave a bright smile to the love of your life.

“Can you say it again?” he asked, cupping your cheek with his palm.

“Say what again?” You acted naive even though you already knew what he meant.

“That you love me,” he mumbled shyly.

“I love you,” you responded with your entire heart.

He grinned at you. “Again.”

“I love you,” you repeated. “I lov-”

You didn’t have the chance to finish your sentence as the Doctor grabbed your face and kissed you again.