#getting ahold of a square brush is no joke

[moralesmilesanhour]

Miles G. doodle page feat. 1610 Miles

[teenwolffanclub-me]

Season 1, Episode 12: Code Breaker

Hey there beautiful reader! If you’re new here, this is a series I’m writing where each chapter is an episode from the first season of Teen Wolf. If you’ve been here before, hey! I missed you! Previous and future chapters are linked at the end of each part if you want to catch up.

Pairing: Stiles x Psychic! Reader

Warnings: two very justified character deaths 

Notes: I feel like I blacked out and now we’re somehow on the last episode. Not sure how that happened so fast but here we are. Just prepare yourself bc this one is entirely too long but I didn’t want to do two parts 🤷‍♀️

Does anyone want me to continue with Season 2? Please let me know bc I won’t do it unless people are actually interested.

I also wanted to give a shoutout to everyone who has sent me nice comments and showed love on this series. It’s meant the absolute world to me!

Okay now let’s get some closure!

                                                    ————————

I walked through the hallways of the high school, using every ounce of willpower I could muster to keep my eyes firmly planted in front of me.

The pressure of dozens of curious stares weighed on my back as I made my way toward the lockers briskly. From the moment I walked through the doors a few minutes ago, all eyes had been on me. I squared my shoulders and forced my head to remain up high.

If people wanted to gossip, they could go right ahead.

My pace quickened as I heard the unmistakable sound of judgmental whispering behind me. I pinched my eyes shut tightly and tried my best to block out the irritating noise. I just wanted to get my books and go to class. At least there, I would see Scott, Stiles, and Allison.

Once I reached my locker, I shakily dialed in my code and popped the small metal door open. I instantly stumbled back, my eyes going wide as a shit ton of dirt came spilling out. I stood still for a few seconds, blinking slowly as I tried figuring out what the hell just happened.

With a frown, I wiped my hands against my jeans, which were now covered in the stuff. My eyes flickered down toward the pile of soil on the tiles in front of my feet, my brows furrowing in confusion.

How the hell did that much dirt get into my locker? How did any dirt get into my locker?

I glanced around the hall slowly, anxious to see my classmates reactions. I was already the weird girl after everything at the dance. I didn’t want to be the even weirder girl who keeps dirt in the locker.

A surprised breath left my lips as I saw that the halls were now completely empty. I turned all the way around, peering in both directions, but there wasn’t a single soul here with me. My head started pounding and I winced at the unexpected sensation before rubbing at my temples gently.

I swiveled back toward my locker, wanting nothing more than for this day to be over. Maybe everyone was right. Maybe I wasn’t ready for this yet. I instantly froze at the sight of a single purple flower sitting in the middle of the dirt pile. I was almost certain it hadn’t been there a moment before.

My heartbeat thrummed loudly in my ears as I reached a trembling hand inside the small space. I tentatively plucked the plant, which I easily recognized as wolfsbane, out of the soil. My eyes flickered around the purple leaves and long, green stem as my confusion only grew.

Just then, an ear piercing scream echoed through the halls. I whipped around, instantly going rigid when I saw that I was no longer in the school, but standing in the middle of the lacrosse field.

I glanced around the empty stadium, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Did I suddenly develop the ability to teleport? Or was I losing my damn mind? My eyes trailed downward as I felt cool air brush against my legs. My breath hitched as I saw that I was wearing my formal dress. The navy fabric was covered in blood and dirt, the strap on my left shoulder torn to shreds.

A bolt of fear licked up my spine as I heard rustling directly in front of me. My gaze slowly swept upward before landing on a pair of glowing red eyes that were illuminated in the shadowy distance. My eyes pinched shut as terror coursed through me when they started moving closer.

“It’s not real.” The mantra was a shaky whisper as my body trembled. “It’s not real. It’s not—”

Just then, my eyes jerked open on their own accord. I bolted upright with a harsh gasp, my throat constricting painfully as I sputtered and coughed a few times. One of my hands came up to clutch at my chest as I tried desperately to catch my breath.

Only a split second passed before Stiles flailed into a sitting position beside me. He whipped his head from side to side with wide eyes, as if searching for the cause of my panic. Once his attention landed back on me, he instantly pulled me into his chest and began murmuring lowly.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” One of his hands rubbed at my back while the other cradled my head against him.

“Lydia...” I gasped, my breath coming out in quick, trembling spurts. The dream had been some sort of vision or clue...it just had to be.

“Lydia’s alright, okay? They’re gonna find her.” Stiles’ fingers threaded through my hair and massaged my scalp soothingly.

“What? What is it? What happened?” Scott’s head suddenly popped up at the foot of my bed, his hair so messy it looked like he’d been hurled through a tornado.

“Another nightmare.” I breathed, feeling my heartrate dropping back down to normal as Stiles’ hands continued rubbing against me gently. 

Scott sighed from the floor, his shoulders sagging in relief. One of his hands came up to massage the back of his neck and he grimaced uncomfortably. “Cool. Is it my turn on the bed yet?”

“You can curl up down here if you want, like a good puppy.” Stiles smirked at his own joke as one of his hands left me to point toward our feet.

“Scott, just go sleep in your own bed. It’s literally right there.” I gestured to my window, which faced his, and slowly pulled away from Stiles.

As much as I would love to stay in his arms forever, I had to learn to get ahold of myself on my own. They couldn’t keep babying me. Both of them had done nothing but obsess over my health from the moment I was discharged out of the hospital two days ago. 

Scott had refused to leave my side since I’d gotten home, other than the brief moments he made appearances in his own house so that his mom knew he was still alive. He insisted it was to keep an eye on me, and that was partially true, but he was also basically in hiding right now. 

Jackson, being the wonderful friend that he is, somehow found the time to tell Mr. Argent that Scott is the beta they’ve been looking for, kindly adding on to our reasons-life-is-currently-terrible list.

“And let you guys have all the fun without me?” Scott mumbled sarcastically and leaned back to lay on the pillow and blanket I’d set up for him on the hardwood floor.

This had been our routine for two days. Mom banned me from having any visitors while I recover, but that hadn’t stopped Scott from staying or Stiles from sneaking in after school. Each night, I could barely make it through a few hours of sleep at a time before jerking awake from yet another nightmare. Or maybe they were visions. I honestly had no idea.

My days had also been...weird, to say the least. Most of the time, it was hard to tell whether or not I was awake. My sense of reality was seriously fucked up. I was having almost constant visions and dreams, and they never made any sense. It felt like my subconscious was trying to tell me something, but in another language I had yet to learn.

Lydia was still missing, and I was beyond worried sick. Sheriff Stilinski and the entire police department had searched every square inch of Beacon Hills over the course of the last two days, and hadn’t found a single trace of her.

Aside from that shitshow, I also hadn’t spoken to Allison since the last time I’d seen her at the dance. No one had, actually.

Scott—when he wasn’t fawning over me—was losing his mind because apparently while I was being a dumbass and getting myself bitten, Mr. Argent somehow made him shift in front of Allison. Then, he shipped her and Kate off to an undisclosed location until further notice.

I’d sent her a few texts since being home, but she only responded once. The words had replayed in my mind over and over for several hours after reading them as I tried figuring out an acceptable response.

You knew the whole time, didn’t you?

I eventually decided not to answer at all. What could I say? I’d kept something huge from her, although it was never really my secret to tell anyway. She had every right to be pissed off. I wanted to address it in person and, honestly, didn’t have the mental capacity to worry much about it right now.

I blinked a few times, feeling myself come back from my dazed thoughts as Scott and Stiles’ voices fluttered back to my ears. I’d been doing that a lot, too. Getting lost in my mind for several minutes at a time, if not longer. I felt a curious gaze on my face and took in a slow, deep breath before lifting my head to meet Stiles’ eyes.

My heart clenched uncomfortably in my chest at the look he was giving me. It was the same expression that had been etched into his face ever since I’d woken up in the hospital. It was like he was afraid I would try to kill him at any given moment, while simultaneously worrying that I’d suffer a mental break or croak on the spot.

I heard the rumbling sound of snoring from the floor and knew that Scott was already out cold again.

“I’m sorry I woke you.” I sighed, suddenly feeling exhausted. I glanced at the alarm clock on my bedside table, noting with a regretful wince that it was three in the morning. He had school in only a few hours.

Stiles’ eyes inspected me tenderly, rounding with concern as he reached out to tuck a stray clump of hair behind my ear gently. “I wasn’t sleeping. You stole my pillow, so...”

I couldn’t help but chuckle at that. He apparently couldn’t sleep without the thing and had brought it with him each night. It was quite possibly the most adorable thing ever.

“I’m still sorry.” My voice was barely above a whisper as I looked down toward my lap and fidgeted with my fingers. 

Ever since I was bitten I’d felt...different. Like a burden. Out of control. It was as if my mind was warring with itself all day, every day. I had a constant nagging fear that I was forgetting something important. It was like it was on the tip of my tongue, but I just couldn’t remember.

Stiles leaned toward me slowly and cupped my cheek before placing a gentle kiss on my forehead. His fingers trailed down to brush against the side of my neck before tangling in the hair at the base of my skull. His free hand came up to the other side of my head and he pulled it down against his chest. My eyes fluttered shut as a sigh left my lips.

A sense of peace always washed over me when he was near. Despite everything going on, all it took was a small touch to quiet my racing mind. I felt myself relaxing, if only slightly, in his arms. A moment later, I leaned back to look at him again, my stomach fluttering at the intense gleam of worry shining in his caramel eyes.

“There’s something wrong with me, isn’t there?” My voice broke and I furrowed my brows as traitorous tears filled my eyes. I didn’t want to cry. I didn’t want to feel sorry for myself. I wanted to get better.

Stiles glanced fleetingly at the place where Peter had bitten me, but jerked his attention back to my face quickly, probably hoping I hadn’t noticed. “Whatever it is...we’ll figure it out.”

Somehow, his response wasn’t all that comforting. I didn’t doubt for a second that he’d be there for me every step of the way as I went through whatever this was. I’d watched how he helped Scott during the early stages of his transformation, and it was admirable. But I didn’t want there to be anything wrong. I didn’t want there to be anything different about me.

I just wanted to be normal.

“C’mere...” Stiles opened his arms and I couldn’t help but instantly fall into them.

He pulled me tight against him and leaned back, snagging his pillow from my side of the bed on the way down. My eyes fluttered shut as I laid there on top of him, my legs between his and my head resting above his heart.

I listened to the steady rhythm of his pulse, feeling it lull me to sleep within seconds.

                                                    ————————

I leaned back against my headboard, adjusting the book that rested atop my knees. My bottom lip was tucked between my teeth anxiously as I flipped another page. I narrowed my eyes as they swept over the words, urging my mind to comprehend them. I just couldn’t. I was way too distracted.

My eyes flickered up to find Scott lounging in my desk chair across the room. He was playing some game on his phone and it was making this annoying boing sound every few seconds. It was starting to drive me crazy, but it wasn’t the only thing causing my jitters. 

I glanced away from him to look out my open window and sighed heavily. It was already dark outside, and Stiles wasn’t here yet.

It wasn’t usually like me to jump to conclusions, but considering the state of our lives right now, it wasn’t a stretch to be worried. At this point, though, I was moving toward a full on panic attack. School ended six hours ago. What could he possibly be doing?

I opened my mouth to voice my concern, but never got a chance as Scott interrupted me before I could get even a single word out.

“He’s fine.” He said absently, his eyes never leaving his phone’s screen.

My eyebrows twitched up in surprise. “How did you know...”

“I can hear your heart racing.” He sighed and finally dropped his phone onto my desk before lifting his eyes to meet mine. “You either just ran a marathon, or you’re worried about something. That something is usually Stiles. And he’s fine.”

I rolled my lips into a tight line at the way he’d just read me so easily. “But it’s already—”

Just then, something thumped outside my window loudly. I stiffened at the sound, and Scott perked up in his chair, instantly on high alert. There was a low groan before a figure clambered through the opening. I instantly knew it was Stiles as I caught sight of his red flannel. He flailed to the floor spastically with a yelp and I slammed my book closed before bolting to my feet.

I rushed to his side, my arms wrapping around him as he struggled to get up. His chest heaved with ragged breaths as if he’d run the whole way here.

“Where were you? Are you okay? What happened?” I couldn’t stop the panicked words from tumbling past my lips.

My eyes trailed over him quickly to assess for any damage. His freckled cheeks were flushed and the top three buttons on his flannel were undone, exposing his white undershirt. He looked a little roughed up, but not hurt.

He finally stood up straight and his eyes widened when they met mine, as if only just then realizing that I was beside him. He gripped my upper arms sternly before walking me backward.

“What are you doing? Get back in bed.” I had no choice but to plop down onto the mattress as the back of my knees ran right into it.

“Don’t change the subject, Stilinski.” I frowned up at him and his eyes twitched in warning.

“Oh, God. Please don’t make me listen to another who’s more worried about who fight. I might seriously puke this time.” Scott practically threw himself onto the bed beside me, a look of feigned disgust taking over his face.

My eyes swept toward him and narrowed into a glare only briefly, as my attention moved back to Stiles when he started talking again.

“Moving on.” He sent a pointed look Scott’s way before continuing, his hands gesturing quickly in front of him. He was anxious, that much was obvious. “I had a uh...talk with Chris—”

“Who?” I interrupted, thrown off by the unfamiliar name.

Stiles’ eyes twitched at me in annoyance as he flailed one of his arms in a circle, signaling that we didn’t have much time. “Argent.”

“You call Allison’s dad Chris?” My voice rose in disbelief. Since when was that a thing?

“Oh my God. This is important, okay? He tried to get me and Jackson to tell him where Scott is and—”

Scott sprang upright on the bed, his eyes wide with alarm. “Why were you with Jackson?”

“Can I just finish? Is that alright with you two?” Stiles’ voice rose in frustration, his eyes pinching shut for a brief moment after he shouted.

Both Scott and I froze and he sighed before running a hand down his face. His gaze flickered to Scott as he extended a hand out apprehensively. “He’s literally planning to kill you. Tonight. Okay? So you can’t—”

Scott suddenly rose to his feet, his face tight with determination. “I need to find Derek.”

Stiles’ fingers curled into a fist, still hanging in the air, as he pursed his lips when Scott brushed past him. “Why do we keep going back to him? He’s like your abusive ex, okay? You have a problem. And did you miss the part where I just said you could be murdered by werewolf hunters at any given moment?”

“If the Argents are after me, he’s the only one who can help.” Scott braced his hands against my windowsill and turned to glare at Stiles over his shoulder.

Before either of us could ask him what he was doing, he doubled over with a low groan. I realized he was shifting and tentatively slid back on my mattress, not sure what was going on. I knew he would never hurt me, but I hadn’t seen anything supernatural since being bitten. It instantly had me on edge.

Then, he jerked upright and howled loudly into the dark sky. 

I winced at the deep, rumbling sound, feeling a painful twinge in my head. One of my hands came up to cradle my temple as my lips parted in a silent gasp. The noise was vibrating all the way in my bones, overwhelming every one of my senses. I felt myself slipping away from the present, my eyes wide but unfocused. I faintly registered an arm wrapping around my back as Stiles rushed to kneel in front of me. 

His free hand cupped my face, his lips moving rapidly as he tried to bring me back. I suddenly had the strong urge to close my eyes, so I let them flutter down slowly. Instantly, my breath caught as an image of Derek’s house popped into my mind. There were way too many things happening to decipher any of it. My brows furrowed as I tried making sense of what I was seeing. 

The clearest picture was the most gruesome. Blood. Everywhere. 

A painful spasm in my left shoulder had my eyes jerking open. They met Stiles’ wide, panicked gaze as he hovered only a few inches away from me. With a snap, his and Scott’s voices rushed into my ears. 

“What the hell did you do to her?” Stiles practically yelled, his voice tight with anxiety and a hint of anger. His hands were clutching my arms as he jostled me awake.

Scott appeared at his side above me, his face crumbled in horror. “I-I didn’t do anything! I didn’t mean to...”

“I think I know where to find him.” I interrupted breathily, blinking a few times to focus my eyes. I sat up with a groan, my head pounding harshly. Stiles tightened his grip on me as he tried to keep me steady. “His house. I saw it.”

Scott’s face dropped from beside me, his brows furrowing as his lips pulled into a frown. “So did I.”

We shared a long, curious glance. I had no idea what that meant, and judging by the glint of wonder reflecting in his eyes, neither did he. 

“So we’re just not gonna talk about whatever that was?” Stiles asked incredulously. He e took a step away from me and shrugged sarcastically with a tilt of his head. 

“We don’t have time.” I pushed myself up to my feet and strode toward my closet hurriedly. 

It was freezing outside by now, and I wanted to be prepared for once. I rustled through my sweaters until I found one I didn’t mind ruining. My shoulder protested each movement as I wrestled it over my head, but I tried my best to ignore it. I turned on my heel to face the guys and froze at the looks they were giving me. 

Scott seemed hesitant, but didn’t look like he was going to argue, while Stiles was very much unimpressed. 

“That’s funny.” He laughed humorlessly and pointed at me. “It looks like you think you’re going somewhere.”

I frowned at his demanding tone. “I’m sorry, are you my mother? No? Okay. That’s what I thought.”

I brushed past him to find a pair of socks in my dresser. If he thought he was going to start telling me what to do just because we’re dating, he had another thing coming. My eyes flickered up to meet his in the mirror as I heard rustling behind me.

“You can’t seriously—” His mouth opened and closed a few times as he tried to find the right words. I pulled out a mismatched pair of socks and turned to lean against the dresser as I slid them on. “Scott, tell her how stupid this is.” 

“Hell no. I’m not getting involved.” He glanced between us with wide eyes, lifting his hands in surrender. 

“If we don’t go now, Derek is going to die.” I forced the words out through clenched teeth, growing impatient. Somehow, I knew that’s the future we were up against, despite not having actually seen it happen. I just knew. 

“Since when do we care about that?” Stiles swiveled his head as his eyebrows rose in question. 

Scott stepped forward, suddenly looking pensive. “I’m not going to just let him die.”

“I’m the only sane one left...” Stiles muttered to himself, throwing his hands up in exasperation. 

After several more minutes of pointless arguing, a very disgruntled Stiles finally agreed to drive us to Derek’s. The three of us had barely made it a few steps outside the Jeep before he came barreling from the house, looking unpleasant as ever. 

“What the hell are you doing? None of you should be here right now.” His angry voice echoed through the trees as he continued stalking forward until he stood right in front of us. 

“Finally, someone’s making—oh my God!” Stiles didn’t have a chance to finish his thought as an arrow came out of nowhere and embedded itself into Derek’s shoulder. 

My eyes widened in shock and I whipped around just as another arrow came from the trees to land in his thigh. He crumpled to the ground with a groan, clutching at his injuries. 

“Close your eyes!” He shouted and tucked his face into his elbow. 

Long fingers clasped around my bicep and I was jerked to the side before another hand shoved my head into a warm chest. I screwed my eyes shut tightly, a quiet boom sounding beside us. Stiles and I separated quickly to see what it was, but my eyes landed on Scott instead. 

He was crouched down on all fours, blinking rapidly. He hadn’t been fast enough. He squinted into the distance and I followed his line of sight, but came up empty. 

Derek grunted lowly as he broke off the shafts of each arrow that still lay inside him. He stumbled to his feet and grabbed Scott by the collar of his jacket. “Get to the house!” 

Stiles and I didn’t hesitate to obey as we bolted in that direction, our hands tangled together. We only made it about halfway before Derek slumped to the ground behind us, exhausted. I staggered to a halt at the sound and nearly lost my balance when Stiles continued moving. 

His eyes flickered from me to the place where Scott and Derek lay crumpled on the ground in a moment of hesitation. With a grimace, he let me go and we both jogged their way. 

“No! Go!” Derek’s head popped up and he tried waving us off, but it was too late. 

I froze, partially crouched beside him, as a thin figure emerged from the darkness. She was stomping toward us with a huge bow slung over her shoulder. The dim light from Derek’s porch illuminated her face as she neared us, and my breath caught in my throat. It was the last person I expected to see.

“Allison, I can explain—” Scott immediately stammered desperately, still trying to get his bearings after being stunned by the flash bullet. I realized at then that it was the same type she’d tried out with me and Lydia the week before formal.

“Stop lying.” She barked, her voice tight with built up anger. Her eyes flickered up to meet mine, my chest tightening at the intense betrayal swirling inside them. “All of you, for once, stop lying.”

“I was gonna tell you the truth. I was gonna tell you everything at the formal.” Scott rushed the words out in a panic as he shuffled backward to match each step she took toward him. “Everything that I said...everything I did...”

“Was to protect me.” She finished with a humorless scoff, fingers tightening around the arrow she held at her side.

“Yes.” He instantly confirmed, pleading with her to understand. 

I knew exactly how she felt. Being kept in the dark sucked, no matter which way it was spun. Maybe she had been safer this whole time because she didn’t know. Or maybe all his secret did was create an irreparable wedge between them. She was bound to find out eventually, considering who her family was, and this whole mess was probably the worst way it could’ve happened. 

Allison’s eyes glistened as she peered down at him, her hardened mask of hatred cracking just slightly. Her voice trembled as a few tears escaped down her cheeks. “I don’t believe you.” 

“Thank God!” I jumped at the sudden voice from the darkness, and watched as Kate stalked out of the tree line with a roll of her eyes. “Now shoot him before I have to shoot myself.”

My heart leapt into my throat at her words. With Scott dazed and Derek seriously injured, there wasn’t much we could do to stop her from killing either one of them. The reality of our situation hit me like a ton of bricks. Stiles and I were utterly useless. 

“Y-you said we were just going to catch them.” Allison sputtered, head jerking toward her aunt in surprise. 

“Yeah, and we did that. Now we’re going to kill them.” Kate raised an arm absently and shot a bullet right into Derek’s chest as she passed by, not even sparing him a glance. “See? Not that hard.”

I gasped at the unexpected act of violence, my jaw going slack. He instantly fell against the damp ground, motionless. 

Holy shit. Oh my God. Is he actually dead?

Allison’s horrified expression matched mine, more tears coating her face as she stared at Derek’s lifeless body. She stiffened when her aunt joined her in front of Scott, who was still gaping from his crouched position.

“Oh no, not that look.” Kate mused, not sounding the least bit genuine. “That’s the you’re going to have to do it yourself look.”

She raised her gun toward Scott’s chest, a manic grin pulling at her lips. I moved without thinking, taking a big step in their direction. Allison instantly started freaking out and tried to put herself between them, but Kate shoved her away harshly. 

She tumbled to the ground just as a hand clasped around my wrist to stop me. I yanked against it, my chest tightening with panic. I had to get over there. I had to help. 

“Y/N! Y/N, stop!” Stiles yelled frantically from behind me, his hold falling loose as I continued struggling against him. 

I ran forward and staggered to a halt beside Kate, who was still pointing the gun at Scott, having no idea what to do now that I was here. She glanced toward me and sighed with a disinterested roll of her eyes. Before I even fully registered that she moved, I was already on the ground. She’d whipped the gun against the side of my face harshly, white hot pain instantly rippling through my head. 

“No!” I heard Allison shout in horror. 

A groan trembled past my lips as I shakily pulled myself up onto my elbows. My vision blurred as Scott jerked upright, about to rush to my side before Kate aimed the gun at his chest again. He froze, his wide eyes never leaving me. I brought a hand up to my temple and hissed when my fingers landed on a warm trickle of blood. 

“Ah, ah...” Kate tutted, amusement shining in her eyes as she glanced behind me, gun following the movement. 

I turned my head and saw Stiles freeze mid-sprint toward me. His eyes narrowed into an angry glare as his jaw clenched tightly, but he didn’t move an inch. I let out a huff, growing frustrated by this whole stupid situation, and swept my gaze back to Kate. 

“Just shoot someone already.” I barked, annoyed with her games. 

Was it stupid to taunt the person with the weapon? Yes. Did I give a fuck? No. At this point, I was more angry than anything. We’d spent months fighting and tracking the alpha—Peter—as he went on a bloodthirsty rampage through Beacon Hills. We’d nearly died in the school, and at the movie store, and in these very woods. Several times. 

Lydia and I had been bitten, and Stiles’ dad was close to a nervous breakdown because nothing in this town makes any goddamn sense unless you’re risking your life everyday just by knowing about the supernatural. And now, we had to deal with Allison’s batshit crazy family, on top of everything. 

I just wanted it to be over.

Kate huffed out a surprised laugh and pointed the gun at me again. “What poetic last words.”

“No! Leave her alone! I’m the one you want.” Scott shouted desperately, stumbling upright from his position in the dirt. 

An evil smirk twitched at her lips as she ignored him. I watched her pointer finger tighten on the trigger and held my breath as I waited for the inevitable. 

“Kate!” A deep voice boomed from behind me, making her pause. I instantly recognized that it was Allison’s dad. “I know what you did.”

The amusement dropped from her face at his words and her eyes flickered up toward the house for a brief moment. 

“Put the gun down.” Mr. Argent ordered, dried leaves crunching beneath his shoes as he walked toward us. 

“I did what I was told to do.” Kate jutted her hand toward me as she enunciated each word curtly. 

I stiffened, very aware that her finger, which still rested against the gun’s trigger, could set it off at any moment. My pulse hammered in my ears loudly and my entire body began trembling as my fear suddenly caught up with me.

“No one asked you to murder innocent people. There were children in that house.” 

My mind raced as I slowly pieced together what he was saying. The fire. It was Kate. But why? Why would she murder an entire family?

“Ones that were human. Look what you’re doing now, you’re holding a gun at sixteen year old kids. No proof they’ve spilled human blood.” He continued, his voice harsh and unfeeling. “Now, put the gun down...before I put you down.”

My eyes widened at his threat. Would he really kill his own sister?

Kate stared at him for a few long moments, her face crumbling in disbelief. Finally, she lowered her arm back down to her side. I let out a heavy breath of relief, but didn’t move from my crouched position in front of her. A loud creak from the house had everyone’s attention jerking toward it. 

The front door swung open slowly, nothing but darkness behind it.

“Kids, get back.” Allison’s dad ordered gruffly as he cocked his gun and aimed it at the decrepit structure. 

Scott stumbled to his feet, but didn’t make a move to run and hide as instructed. Allison joined his side a moment later, her bow and arrow cocked and aimed at the house. I heard quick steps behind me a moment before strong arms wrapped around my waist and hauled me to my feet. 

Stiles whipped me around to face him, and I winced as my head throbbed in protest. His hands came up to cradle the sides of my face, his fingers turning red as my blood smeared onto his skin. His wide eyes flickered around my body frantically, as if not fully believing that I was right here in front of him. 

He suddenly jerked me toward him and smashed his lips against mine, pouring every emotion he’d just gone through into the kiss. I responded instantly, my hands fisting the warm material of his flannel as I pulled him closer. It was over much too soon as he pulled back with a shaky breath of relief. 

“God, I’m so mad at you right now. I could literally kill you.” His eyes twitched as he continued inspecting me for any hidden injuries. 

“Wouldn’t that be a little counterproductive?” I chuckled despite the situation, and he just glared at me.

“What is it?” My attention jerked back to Allison at the sound of her panicked voice. I’d nearly forgotten what was going on outside the peaceful bubble that was Stiles. 

I turned back toward the house and saw Scott’s eyes flash bright yellow as he peered through the opened front door. “It’s the alpha.” 

At his declaration, a huge black mass raced out of the house, moving impossibly fast. It dashed around the area in a big circle before turning abruptly and knocking Mr. Argent right off his feet. He flew into the air before landing heavily, instantly passing out cold as his head slammed against the dirt. 

Allison cried out and made a move to help him, but quickly found herself in no better shape as the alpha rammed into her next. Only a second later, Scott was groaning as he lay in a heap beside her on the leaf covered ground. My heart slammed against my ribs painfully as my head whipped from side to side, trying to see where he was now. 

All the air rushed from my lungs as a powerful force shoved against mine and Stiles’ sides. His arms instantly wrapped around my waist, and mine around his shoulders. We held onto each other tightly as we flew several feet through the air. At the last second, Stiles shifted us so that he would take the brunt of the fall. He hissed in pain as his back slammed onto the dirt, and I quickly scrambled to get off of him. 

“Come on!” Kate’s angry voice echoed through the trees as she jerked her gun around in a circle. She was the only one left standing. 

I wrapped an arm around Stiles and helped him sit up. He waved me off, muttering something about being fine, and I huffed in annoyance. At this point I was convinced that he was physically unable to help himself from downplaying his own struggles. 

I was about to argue with him, but froze when Peter emerged from the darkness to stand threatening behind Kate. He snatched the arm that held her gun and wrenched it behind her with ease. She grunted in pain as he twisted it with a snap, two shots firing into the sky as they struggled. 

She had no choice but to release the gun. It landed on the ground with a dull thud as he gripped her by the throat and tossed her in the air like a ragdoll. She crashed onto the porch, a cloud of dust rising all around her as she shakily pushed herself up. 

Peter wasted no time in striding up the broken steps. He bent down and grabbed Kate violently before pressing her back to his chest, holding her in place with his claws at her neck. 

“No!” Allison suddenly shouted and sprinted toward them. 

My eyes widened in horror. What the hell did she think she was doing? I made a move to follow her, but Stiles wrapped both arms around my waist tightly. I pulled against him for a few seconds, but stopped when Peter’s voice echoed toward us. 

“She is beautiful, Kate. She looks like you, only not as damaged. So I’m going to give you a chance to save her.” My breath hitched as he addressed Allison and I started thrashing against Stiles again. I couldn’t let her get hurt. I couldn’t let anyone else I care about become one of his victims. “Apologize. Say you’re sorry for decimating my family, for leaving me burned and broken for six years. Say it, and I’ll let her live.”

A tense moment of silence passed as Kate seemed to weigh her options. Finally, she choked the words out the best she could. “I’m...sorry.” 

A small, satisfied smile tugged at Peter’s lips before he ripped her throat out with his claws. My jaw dropped as blood splattered across every nearby surface, my stomach churning at the violence of it all. Allison screamed, practically doubling over in horror as Kate crumpled to the porch with wide, empty eyes. Peter’s shoulders sagged as he let out a long sigh, a look of relief washing over him. 

“I don’t know about you, Allison, but that apology didn’t sound very sincere.” His amused gaze bored into her wide, glistening eyes as he stalked down the steps.

By the time he had one foot on the dirt ground, Scott and Derek were crouched in front of her protectively. I hadn’t even noticed that Derek was still alive, let alone completely healed, but I was more than grateful. 

“Run.” Scott grunted over his shoulder, and she didn’t hesitate to listen. 

She sprinted toward me and Stiles, taking her bow with her, and immediately crumpled into my arms. A harsh sob wracked her body as I pulled her in tight. I felt Stiles’ hand on my back as he guided us hastily toward his Jeep. A few animalistic growls and roars sounded from behind us, and I knew they were fighting.

“I’m sorry.” Allison cried, pulling away from me to wipe at her face. “I’m so, so sorry. I-I didn’t know what happened with you and Lydia, and now Kate’s gone and—oh my God. I’m the worst friend ever.” 

Stiles wrenched the passenger door open when we reached the car and I shoved Allison inside before crawling in behind her. Something snapped behind us, and I honestly wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d just uprooted a tree or completely destroyed the house. 

“It’s okay.” I breathed, running a hand down Allison’s back as she continued blubbering. “We’re both terrible friends, honestly.”

“Wait.” She suddenly perked up, her eyes widening in horror. “My dad.”

Damnit. I‘d completely forgotten about him. 

I turned to peer out the window and winced as Peter picked Derek up by the ankle and tossed him through the air. He crashed into Scott, who was trying to pull himself upright a few feet away, bringing him right back down harshly. 

Peter snarled, seemingly losing control as he hunched over and shifted fully into a huge, terrifying beast. He roared loudly, baring his claws and stalking forward. He grabbed Derek by the throat and threw him into a nearby tree before turning back to Scott. 

“I have to do something.” Stiles suddenly spoke up from the front seat. My head whipped in his direction as he threw open the driver’s side door and clambered onto the ground. 

“What? No!” I immediately tumbled out behind him and watched with baited breath as he reached into the trunk. 

My brows furrowed as I caught sight of a huge beaker in his hand. I barely had time to register that here was a yellow liquid swirling inside before he hurled it at Peter. As it flew toward him, I realized it was a Molotov cocktail, like the one Lydia showed us how to make when we were stuck inside the school. Peter caught it easily, his glowing red eyes snapping our way with a ferocious growl. 

“Oh, damn...” Stiles instantly deflated and took a tentative step back. 

My eyes widened as I whipped back around to face Allison, an idea suddenly popping into my head. She seemed to know exactly what I was thinking as she reached for her bow and instantly nocked the arrow into place. After taking only a moment to aim it out the opened window, she fired. 

It hit the glass bottle dead center, and Peter’s left arm erupted in flames. He roared frantically and tried shaking the fire off, only managing to make it spread across his torso more quickly. Soon, his entire body was ablaze as he staggered around and howled in agony. 

After a few long, torturous moments, he slumped down onto his knees in his human form. Thick smoke billowed from his charred skin as he sputtered and gasped for air. We all stood impossibly still, gaping at him in horror. I don’t think any of us had the slightest idea of what to do next.

Derek suddenly emerged from the house, his face a tight mask of fury. He stalked toward Peter, who now lay on his back, and stood over him with clenched fists. 

“Wait!” Scott rose to his feet and stopped only a foot away from them, his eyes wide with panic. Derek’s hard glare never moved an inch. “You said the cure comes from the one who bit you. If you do this, I’m dead. What am I supposed to do?”

My attention snapped back toward him, surprised at his words. There was a cure? I had no idea what he was talking about, but it must’ve been important if he was this freaked out over it. 

Derek’s eyes pinched shut and his jaw clenched tightly. He hesitated for only a brief moment before raising a clawed hand in the air. 

“Wait! N-no! Don’t!” Scott's desperate plea fell on deaf ears as Derek brought his hand down to slash Peter’s throat. 

Allison gasped from beside me, and I just stared ahead with wide eyes. My breath caught in my throat as I watched yet another person’s life fade away right in front of me. It was almost hard to believe, that he was actually dead. We’d all been through so much. It didn’t seem possible that it could all be over, just like that. 

There had to be more.

Derek staggered to his feet and turned to glower at Scott over his shoulder. His canines elongated and his eyes flashed bright red before he uttered the words we were all dreading. The ones that would seal our fate for the foreseeable future. 

“I’m the alpha now.”

Episode 11 Season 2, Episode 1 (Part One)

[edendaphne]

“Discordant Sonata” Chapter 8

I started out this angsty chapter with a fluffy flashback to stomp on people’s feelings, oops.

> Read it here on Ao3 <

> Read it here on Wattpad <

CHAPTER 8:  ABBANDONO

Glossary: Mon soleil: My sun

Ten Years Ago (Mood Music: Hymne à l’amour - Josh Groban)

“So, what do you think? Red or blue?” a mild, baritone voice crooned over Adrien’s shoulder.

Adrien scrutinized the shimmery fabric, slowly running his fingers over its length, his small hands not quite able to hold the entirety of the garment. “Definitely blue,” he concluded. “It’s her favorite.”

“Indeed, it is. Sapphire blue, to be exact,” Gabriel remarked, placing the gowns into their respective boxes. “Your mother is a remarkable woman, and she deserves nothing but the best. Especially on her birthday.”

“Wanna see the card I made for her?” Adrien chirped eagerly as he hopped off the chair to retrieve the aforementioned card from a nearby table.

Gabriel took the card gingerly and held it up, careful to not get any of the overabundant glitter on himself. “Hmm, your picture of– a… goat, is it?– is quite charming.”

Adrien giggled, his toothy smile displaying two missing front teeth, which he’d recently lost (and been richly recompensed for). “It’s not a goat, it’s a hamster!”

Gabriel managed to hide his surprise well. “Ah, yes, of course. Also, your handwriting has improved, and your spelling is impeccable. Perfect as always,” he remarked as he handed the card back.

“Thanks, Papa!” Adrien beamed, thrilled that his efforts were acknowledged. “I’ve been practicing!”

Gabriel smiled back fondly. He put a hand on Adrien’s shoulder and said, “Come, it’s dinnertime. Let’s meet up with your mother.”

Once the card was put away, the pair traversed down the spacious halls of the mansion towards the dining room.

“I can’t wait til her surprise party on Saturday!” Adrien whispered to his father as they walked, buzzing with excitement. “I wish it was here already!”

Gabriel chuckled, amused by his son’s enthusiasm. “Well, until we figure out a way to time travel, we’ll just have to wait, and keep it a secret.”

Later that night, Emilie Agreste assisted a freshly bathed Adrien in brushing his teeth.

“Have you been enjoying your piano lessons, mon soleil?”

“Mnnnh-hnn!” Adrien mumbled approvingly.

“I’m glad. You should play for me tomorrow and show me that new piece you’ve been working on,” she replied, trying to brush out some rather stubborn hair on either side of his head. “Hmm, I can’t get these cowlicks to stay down,” she said with mock irritation. Her mouth quirked upward and she spiked the hair up even higher with her fingertips. “They kind of look like cat ears, don’t you think? You’re definitely the cutest kitten I’ve ever seen,” she joked, ruffling his soft, damp hair.

Adrien giggled, mouth still full of toothpaste.

“Except that this little kitten loooooves his bath time, doesn’t he?” she remarked as she finally succeeded in smoothing out his hair. “And you know what instruments cats play, instead of the piano?” she asked casually.

Adrien’s eyebrows rose up in silent question as he swished water in his mouth.

She leaned down by his head and playfully replied, “Purr- cussion.”

With a loud snort, Adrien sprayed water all over the bathroom mirror as he busted out laughing. Emilie giggled mischievously, doubling over with laughter at Adrien’s stupefied face.

“Mama, that was soooo cheesy!” he laughed, wiping the water and toothpaste that dribbled down his chin.

Snickering through her teeth, she replied, “Well, you still laughed, so it can’t have been that bad!”

“If Papa hears it, you’ll be in treble,” he countered, and Emilie’s snickering turned into a full-blown cackle.

Still giggling, they quickly wiped down the mirror and countertops, then strolled down the halls towards Gabriel’s office.

Emilie rapped on the door a couple of times before opening it, peering around to look for him.

Gabriel sat behind his desk, poring over his work. “Yes?” he answered as he wrote.

“Helloooo~ my darling husband,” Emilie lilted coquettishly.

Gabriel lifted his head, then smiled when he saw the two of them. “Ah, it’s my two favorite people in the world. What can I do for you?”

“Our little sunshine child is here to say goodnight,” Emilie replied, shuffling Adrien into the enormous room.

“Oh!” Gabriel glanced at the clock, eyebrows raised. “I didn’t realize it was that time of the day already,” he said, stretching out his stiff limbs. He pushed his chair back and waited for his son as he scampered towards him.

The seven-year-old leaped into his father’s arms, causing him to grunt slightly and making the wheeled desk chair scoot back a few inches.

Gabriel chuckled and patted Adrien’s head. “If you’re big enough to knock the wind out of me, you’re old enough to help me with all this paperwork.”

Emilie leaned on the doorframe, looking on warmly. “He’s definitely having a growth spurt; he keeps outgrowing all his clothes!”

A female voice behind her spoke, “Would you like me to order some new clothes for him, Emilie?”

Emilie turned around to face the desk on the other side of the room, and beamed. “Oh, would you, Nathalie? You’re the best!”

Adrien returned to his mother, waving back enthusiastically as he was ushered out, “Good night, Nathalie! Don’t work too hard!”

The door closed behind them and the room was quiet once again. Gabriel and Nathalie looked at each other with matching grins, silently acknowledging how Emilie and Adrien carried such life and exuberance wherever they went.

Nathalie remarked as she resumed organizing some documents, “He becomes more and more like his mother every day, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, he certainly does,” Gabriel replied as he leaned back in his chair, his smile growing wider. “I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

Current Timeline

(Mood Music: Reborn - Abel Korzeniowski)

Chat Noir leaped and sprinted towards his mansion on autopilot; pulse thrilling, limbs aching, and yet he felt none of it. The only thing he could register was the steadily climbing resentment and indignation as he thought back to every interaction, every snub, all the unfairness, mistreatment, and neglect he’d suffered (as well as repressed) throughout the past few years.

He’d seen the signs of Gabriel’s downward spiral. They were subtle at first, but unmistakable. And yet he had stubbornly continued to ignore them. He’d even rationalized them, always coming up with some excuse or explanation so he wouldn’t have to face the music. He realized it now; his passiveness had been his gravest mistake.

Upon reaching the last building on the block before his destination, Chat skidded to a halt. In the past, when he returned home, he would take a winding route so as to lose anyone who might try to follow, and once he was sure he was alone, enter through the back way. Today, he didn't care who saw him standing on the roof in front of his home. He crouched in silence, staring at the Agreste manor; it looked just as imposing, dreary, and lifeless on the outside as it felt on the inside.

He squared himself, trying to calm his nerves. Gabriel would be expecting him. Chat bit his lip, realizing that he still had no idea what to say to him. But then again, he wasn’t the type to go into things with a plan anyway; improvisation was more his style.

Finally, he stood and took a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

Adrien had scarcely landed in his bedroom and detransformed when he was sharply yanked by the arm towards the couch. There was a duffel bag and a pile of clothes haphazardly thrown in, as well as some toiletries and other necessities. He also spotted a large wad of cash and… was that his passport?

Nathalie shut the zipper and practically threw the bag into his arms. “Adrien, you need to leave,” she uttered low as she briskly walked him back towards the large windows, the unmistakable dread in her eyes betraying her seemingly calm exterior. “Now,” she added emphatically, noting his lack of movement.

Taken aback, Adrien stammered, “Nathalie, wha–?”

She continued, indistinct, “You’re going to get on the metro and take the train out of Paris– any destination, it doesn’t matter. Leave your phone here; he can track you if you take it with you. When you arrive, check into a hotel, then–”

“Wait! Nathalie!” he called louder to get her attention. “What’s going on?” He stared, bewildered, as Plagg peeked his head out of his shirt pocket, slowly biting into a piece of Camembert.

The woman frowned and asked rhetorically, “Were you not there during the last akuma battle?! There’s no time to discuss this; you need to leave the city.”

“Hang on, I can’t leave Paris!” Adrien protested.

She fixed him with an intense stare. “I don’t think you truly understand the situation, Adrien. Gabriel is your father, but he is also Hawkmoth. And, as of earlier today, your enemy. An enemy who knows who you are, where you live, where you sleep. Not only is he planning to take your miraculous; he’s going to place you under permanent house arrest. In fact, the term ‘house arrest’ is way too mild a description, but I’m sure you get the idea.” She took his shoulder and continued to walk him towards the window. “Now, go, before he realizes you’re here.”

Adrien knitted his brows and planted his feet. “Wait! But what about you? What about Ladybug?”

Nathalie replied dismissively, “I’ll be fine; he won’t even know I was involved with your departure. And Ladybug, she’ll continue to handle herself as she always has. But with you gone, we can at least guarantee that Hawkmoth won’t get ahold of both miraculouses, in the event that she’s defeated.”

Adrien’s eyes widened at this statement. “No. No! This is exactly why I can’t leave. I can’t leave her by herself against Father.” He ran a hand through his hair nervously. “I won’t let what happened today happen again. She needs me. She can’t just keep defeating his akumas over and over; Father needs to be actually stopped. We need to take his miraculous away. And it’s going to take both of us to do it.”

Nathalie snapped. “You can’t beat him! He’s developed the abilities from his miraculous far beyond what you could’ve ever thought capable and unlocked much of its potential; far more than you have with your own.”

Adrien could only stare in shock as she continued to speak.

She sighed, letting go of his shoulder. “Ladybug can deal with Hawkmoth. She’ll either defeat him, or she won’t. But your priority should be to stay as far away as possible and be safe. You need to think of yourself, Adrien.”

He shook his head. “I’m done thinking only about myself. It’s what I’ve been doing for years, just blindly following orders. I need to start doing what’s right instead of always sticking to what’s safe.”

Nathalie narrowed her eyes in equal parts consternation and puzzlement. “So what will you do instead?”

Adrien set down the duffel bag and took a step away from her towards his bedroom door, motioning with his hand. “I’ll talk to him. I can reason with him, I know I can. There must be some part of him that’s still willing to listen.”

Nathalie paced back and forth, placing both hands on her face, almost as if she was trying to keep her body from exploding. With a hint of desperation, she implored, “Adrien... please reconsider.”

“Nathalie… I know you’re worried, but I can’t–” his voice cracked, and he had to pause for a few seconds. “I can’t leave Mom here with him,” he declared with finality, tone heavy and full of sadness.

Nathalie deflated and she lowered her head, squeezing her eyes shut. He’d pulled the “Emilie” card. She knew immediately that she wasn’t going to win this argument.

Somewhere deep down, Nathalie had truly always believed Emilie could be re-awakened. It was one of the biggest reasons why she’d stayed with the Agrestes all these years.

She missed her too; Emilie was her best friend. Her pillar of strength. The light in her heart. The woman that she’d always loved from afar since childhood, never acting on her feelings until it was too late. And yet, she still could never leave her side. She had to remain part of her life, even if her secret would die with her. When Emilie “disappeared”, Nathalie took it upon herself to protect everything that was most important to her beloved. She had already failed with Emilie’s husband. But she would not allow it to happen with her only son too.

She sighed heavily. “Just… be careful, Adrien. You don’t know what he’s truly capable of. I swore to Emilie that I’d do my best to take care of you, before she— before...”

Adrien walked towards her and placed his hands on her shoulders reassuringly. “I know,” he said quietly, smiling, although it didn’t reach his eyes. “Everything’s going to be okay.” Plagg looked up at him, concern etched on his tiny features.

Nathalie was a tall woman, but now that Adrien was older and only a few weeks shy of being an official adult, he had already surpassed her height. In spite of this, even now, she continually struggled to remember that he wasn’t a child anymore. Nathalie’s tired eyes met Adrien’s, and she shakily reached up to squeeze one of his hands, a bit harder than she’d intended but he didn’t seem to notice.

With nothing more to be said, Adrien plodded out of the room as if his legs were made of lead, and Nathalie was left alone with the overwhelming sense of foreboding raging in her chest.

(Mood Music: Morning Passage - The Hours)

Adrien stood in front of Gabriel’s office door. He could feel goosebumps forming on his arms and the tiny hairs on the back of his neck rising. He would much prefer to hop on that long-distance train that Nathalie suggested rather than face his father, but he knew this confrontation had been a long time coming.

So he knocked.

There was no answer. A moment later he opened the door and looked inside. Gabriel was at his desk, but did not react to his presence. Nooroo sat on a pile of books, but from the looks of it, he wasn’t permitted to speak, as usual. Adrien stepped in and closed the door, but still, Gabriel would not look up from his papers.

The pit in Adrien’s stomach grew larger. Was he no longer even considered worthy to be acknowledged? The mounting frustration spurred him on as he walked further into the room.

Putting on a false confident air, he finally spoke, “Father... it’s time we really talk.”

Gabriel ignored him, casually leafing through his paperwork and scribbling in his notebook on occasion. Nooroo eyed him wearily, then back at Adrien.

Adrien straightened up to his full height, bristling with rage. “At least look at me when I talk to you!” Adrien snarled. “It’s the least you could do after everything I’ve done for you all these years!”

Gabriel finally lifted his gaze, a lofty look pasted on his face as if Adrien were nothing more than an annoying fly that entered the room.

“What is there to say? I’m sure you can predict what comes next,” Gabriel replied, leaning back on his massive chair and steepling his fingers. “However, since you obviously seem to be having trouble thinking clearly lately, I’ll give you a hint.” His eyebrows furrowed in displeasure; his voice became darker. “Effective immediately, you will surrender your miraculous, and are hereby forbidden to leave the mansion indefinitely.”

Adrien widened his eyes, not in surprise but in outrage. “No,” he stated simply.

“That wasn’t a request.” Gabriel eyed him carefully, disapproval evident in his face. “You knew this would happen when you disobeyed me. Why try to fight it?”

Adrien inhaled sharply and braced himself for what he was about to say next. “Because what we’re doing is wrong.”

The older man chuckled with that ever-present condescending air to his voice. “Since when do you care about right and wrong? This was never about being the stereotypical ‘good guys’ and changing the world one good deed at a time. This was always about gaining power. Power that we need for a perfectly legitimate reason. And now, apparently, you’ve got morals, suddenly pretending to care about others.” He fixed Adrien with a steely glare. “Life is not black and white, Adrien. My methods may seem unconventional and, I’ll admit, even controversial. But at least I’m no hypocrite.”

Adrien suppressed a growl, recoiling in vexation and distress. It was like a sack of hot coals had been dropped into his stomach, searing him with the guilt that had always been there, but had now grown tenfold. Gabriel somehow always managed to find a way to make him feel like a horrible human being.

But... he wasn’t wrong. Chat Noir was just as guilty as Hawkmoth was for putting the city in danger, even if their motives were slightly different. How could he possibly argue with him, when he was just as responsible for harming the innocent? Could his father be right? Was there no escaping the giant pit he’d dug for himself? His throat felt dry, and he couldn’t help but wilt under his father’s judgmental gaze.

It was at that moment that his mind decided to reflect upon the time he’d spent with Ladybug. Nowadays, the thought of her brought him hope and courage, for reasons he’d only recently begun to understand. She was a beautiful light that shone brighter and brighter the more he got to know her, illuminating the dark prison he’d been trapped in for so long.

He recalled how she’d apologized to him for putting him in danger as Adrien. She’d acknowledged her mistakes, then set forth to rectify them. And as Chat, who had been her enemy for years, even knowing what he’d done, she was still willing to try to help him be free. Ladybug was the only person outside of their family circle that knew about his double life. She didn’t feel that he was unworthy of redemption, and she actually believed in him. Somehow she had welcomed him as her partner despite their past, despite his background, despite knowing who his father was, despite everything.

He recognized that wallowing in self-pity wasn’t going to accomplish anything. His eyebrows furrowed, deep in thought. Admitting that you’re wrong is not a weakness. It’s a strength.

Adrien straightened up subconsciously, drawing courage and determination from the faith and confidence that Ladybug had in him.

“People change,” he finally replied, stepping forward. “We can both change. Father, just listen! We’ve been terrorizing the city, putting its entire population in peril for so long, and for nothing! We can’t keep doing this,” he stated, almost pleadingly.

“Oh, it’s not for nothing,” Gabriel raised his eyebrows, carefully eyeing Adrien. “Think about what happened today. About how you failed me. We would have succeeded were it not for your complete and utter ineptitude,” he continued with unconcealed irritation and disdain, his voice sounding colder and more severe now that they were talking face to face instead of through a communicator.

Adrien clenched his fists so tightly that his fingernails dug into his palms. He had to convince him. “You’re going to kill people,” he stated, fighting to keep his voice from quavering.

Gabriel tsked and waved dismissively. “Don’t be so callow. Sacrifices must be made; you and I both agreed on that long ago.”

“I was a child!!” Adrien shouted, an unbearable heat forming at the base of his neck, the tension in the room almost suffocating. “I was a scared kid who had just lost his mother and was desperate to bring her back, and you were my father! I trusted you, believed that you would know what to do!” He lowered his voice, struggling to calm down. “You failed ME, Father. Not the other way around. And if you don’t stop you’ll end up losing your whole family.”

Gabriel inhaled sharply. “When I succeed and you get your mother back, as undeserving as you are, you’ll see the error of your ways and beg for my forgiveness!”

“Mom will never forgive you when she finds out what you’ve done!” Adrien countered emphatically. “What WE’VE done! Father, we’ve been wrong. All these years, we’ve done something unforgivable, caused pain to so many people! But we can put a stop to this now. We can end this and together we can find another way to help mom. Ladybug can help us!”

“Do NOT bring up that insect!! You know that’s completely out of the question!” Gabriel snarled. “I will continue on my mission and so will you, if you know what’s good for you.”

“I can’t,” Adrien said, resolute. “I won’t," he declared, stronger now. “And I won’t let you do it either. I’m not going to let you hurt innocent people anymore. It’s not what Mom would want, and we both know it.”

Gabriel replied, enraged, “How would you know what she would want?! I’m the one who knew her best! Whether I have to force you to help me, or take your power back and use it for myself; one way or another, I WILL bring my Emilie back to life!”

Adrien felt as if he’d been physically struck. “Back… back to life?” He searched his father’s eyes in confusion. “What do you mean ‘back to life’? M-mom isn’t— she’s in a coma, she’s not... You said—”

“Your mother’s dead, Adrien,” Gabriel spat, shooting him a venomous look.

Adrien gaped at him in disbelief, struggling to keep his legs from buckling. He wanted to call his father a liar. He wanted to curse at him and yell at him at the top of his lungs that he was mistaken. But he couldn’t. Somewhere inside he knew it was true.

“You… you lied to me?”

Gabriel ignored his question. “This is why we need the miraculous of creation,” he explained, exasperated. “Your mother doesn’t need healing. She needs to be revived.” He shifted in his chair, crossing his arms, as if the whole conversation was all too irritating to have to endure. “Do you understand now? Why it’s so important to acquire those earrings?”

Adrien stood there, incredulous, in the middle of the spacious yet overwhelmingly stifling hall. Was this really happening? This was literally the subject of so many of his nightmares, where he would awaken sobbing and hyperventilating.

So why wasn’t he crying? Why wasn’t he screaming? He felt numb. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t breathe.

His mother.

His kind, beautiful mother, who had loved him, held him, protected him. His biggest source of comfort as a child, the best example of pure, unconditional love. The thought of her being gone permanently had been so devastating and overpowering that he’d desperately fought to make sure it would never come to pass, and had fiercely held onto even the tiniest sliver of hope his father had offered.

And yet, in reality, the possibility of bringing her back was so much smaller than he’d ever imagined, and it had always been that small. Had all his hopes of seeing her again been based solely on Gabriel’s shaky conjecture and ambiguous knowledge of magic? What else had his father been hiding from him?

Finally regaining control of his voice, Adrien whispered, “That means… she’s gone. She’s really gone…” He fought a sudden wave of lightheadedness and nausea, his heart beating a violent rhythm inside his chest.

“NO!! She isn’t!! ” Gabriel roared, his voice steadily rising in pitch. “She’s well within reach and I will save her. I will never surrender her. She is my wife, my soul, my everything! You don’t have the capability to even begin to comprehend the depths of my love for her.”

Adrien seethed at the insinuation that he didn’t love his own mother as much as Gabriel did, but decided to continue to try to reason with him instead of rising to the bait. “But she IS gone, Father! It’s just the two of us now! We need to accept this. We need to come to terms with the fact that she won’t be coming back so we can begin to heal! And, if we stick together and help each other, then I think… I think we can even be a family again.”

Gabriel threw his head back and laughed, a dark, throaty rumble that echoed throughout the spacious room.

“Adrien,” he said finally, looking down his nose at him. “I honestly don’t give a damn what you think.”

He abruptly rose from his chair and walked towards the large portrait of Emilie, activating the hidden lift to his lair, with Nooroo trailing behind.

Adrien raised his eyebrows, unable to do anything but stand stupefied for several seconds. Snapping out of it, he stomped angrily towards the small elevator as Gabriel ascended.

“What the hell?! You are not walking away from me! We’re not done here!!” But his father didn’t even turn around.

Enraged, Adrien summoned the elevator impatiently, clearly not satisfied with his father’s sudden termination of their discussion.

Upon arrival to the dark chamber, Adrien spotted him immediately; a tall, thin figure standing by the immense window, silhouetted in the darkening early evening sky. However, the man looking out the glass was no longer Gabriel, but Hawkmoth.

Why did he transform? Adrien frowned in confusion.

The silence in the dark and cavernous room was deafening. The space had always seemed chillier than the rest of the mansion, despite the carefully temperature-controlled interiors. Hawkmoth’s form radiated hostility, and a trickle of ice slowly crept down Adrien’s spine.

“Father...?” Adrien slowly approached him, heart rate speeding up, hackles raised in sudden alarm, his gut screaming at him to run.

Hawkmoth’s head turned slightly towards him, thin lips curled into a sneer and he gave a small chuckle. The very air in the room felt oppressive, almost to the point of being suffocating.

“You worthless child,” Hawkmoth said with unveiled disgust. “I gave you the privilege of wielding the cat miraculous and it’s thanks to me that you have it to begin with. I could have taken it away permanently after I found it in your belongings years ago. I see now that letting you keep it was a mistake. You have more freedom and power than you deserve. But you forget that I’m the one with the power to destroy you.”

Hawkmoth turned around, arms resting behind his back, appearing almost unnaturally tall and imposing. He walked towards him.

“I will repeat what I said earlier. You are dismissed from your duties, Adrien. Hand over the ring, or I will take it from you,” he glowered menacingly.

Adrien took a fearful step back.

It was a trap. Hawkmoth had counted on his hotheaded and impulsive nature, and knew that he would follow him up here, where escape was most difficult.

Panic rose to his chest, but despite his heart pounding, he planted his feet and said, “P-Plagg, claws—”

Momentary blackness and a sharp pain interrupted him. His head swam and he realized he couldn’t breathe. His body twisted and squirmed, trying to escape the grip around his throat, clawing at Hawkmoth’s arms and gasping for air as he was slowly raised off the ground, upwards along the wall.

Hawkmoth yanked him away from the wall and slammed him again, disorienting him even further and weakening his grip. The edges of his vision started to blacken. He knew he didn’t have long before he passed out.

Adrien kicked wildly and scratched at Hawkmoth’s arms. He couldn’t let this happen. He couldn’t let Hawkmoth succeed. He couldn’t. But as his body became more and more numb and his struggling slowly decreased, he was quickly losing hope. Unwelcomed tears pricked at his eyes as he looked into the eyes of the man who had raised him.

His father.

Despite all of his neglect and emotional abuse, Gabriel had never laid a finger on him.

But, Adrien now realized, this was not Gabriel. Not anymore. Only Hawkmoth remained. Gabriel was gone. His entire family had been torn away from him within the span of mere minutes.

Would anyone miss him if he was gone too?

A wave of emotion flitted across his face. Nathalie, Nino, Alya, Marinette. Ladybug. Would she miss him? Would she know what happened to him? Would the next time she encountered Chat Noir be through a different wielder? The thought of Gabriel being in possession of the power of destruction terrified him, and made him fear for Ladybug’s life. Adrien had sworn that he would protect her. If his father got ahold of his miraculous, she would be in more danger than he could have ever fathomed. He had to escape… he had to… he...

The veil of blackness grew and Adrien ceased his struggling altogether, having no strength remaining. But before his eyes rolled back, a black flash zoomed directly at Gabriel’s face, knocking him back in surprise.

Adrien crumpled to the ground, panting and coughing, while Plagg whizzed around Hawkmoth, the latter growling in outrage. Adrien looked up at them, clutching at his aching throat, his vision slowly returning to normal.

Hawkmoth finally succeeded in swatting Plagg away, and his tiny body was thrown towards the far wall.

Adrien attempted to call out to him, but only succeeded in releasing a strangled wheezing sound.

To his surprise, Plagg performed a graceful twist and landed on all fours. He pushed himself off the wall and puffed up his tiny chest.

“Is that all you’ve got, you pansy??” he taunted, accompanied with a rude gesture at Hawkmoth that suggested he perform an action of dubious anatomical probability to himself. Then he zipped back towards Hawkmoth, lashing his tail against the villain’s face with audible slaps, hissing and snarling like the cat he was.

Adrien couldn’t help but smirk. Seeing Plagg’s courage fueled his willpower and, despite his painful, labored breathing and a metallic taste in his mouth, he rose to his feet with a slight sway. He became woozy from the change in altitude, but nevertheless, a fiery determination blazed in his eyes.

With a renewed vigor, Adrien managed to croak out, “Plagg, claws out.” A bright flash of green illuminated the room.

Roaring ferociously, Hawkmoth unsheathed his sword and charged at Chat, who barely had enough time to block with his staff.

The two clashed in vicious combat, their strikes quick and merciless. Chat bounced around, dodging and parrying, taking full advantage of his catlike agility to avoid incoming attacks. Hawkmoth was relentless in his pursuit, always surging forward, never hesitating or taking a step back.

Hawkmoth’s masterful swordsmanship was unrelenting and intense. It had been years since they sparred and practiced together. The difference between his fighting style now, compared to how it was long ago, was stark. It was as if he were fighting a completely different person, one who focused solely on offense; one that aimed to kill, not incapacitate.

With a grunt, Hawkmoth swung his sword in a wide slash, and Chat was unable to block the full blow. A trickle of blood traveled down his arm, and Chat couldn’t help but stare at it.

He hurt him. Actually hurt him. It wasn’t a trick, an attempt to get the ring. A ploy he’d apologize for and claim ’Adrien, you made me do it’. His father was trying to actively injure him. The reality that this wasn’t some bad dream came crashing down on him, in the most physical sense. He looked up at disbelief at his father–or whoever he was at this point.

Chat continued to parry Hawkmoth’s brutal jabs and slashes, but occasionally one would penetrate his defenses. Before he knew it, he was riddled with cuts and scratches.

He panted heavily, lungs burning, heart pounding, and muscles aching. He looked up at his enemy, who wasn’t even breathing hard; not a single bead of sweat dotted his brow.

Chat made a desperate lunge at him, hoping to momentarily stun him so he could catch his breath. But in his exhaustion, he was careless, his movements sloppy.

The next thing he registered was simply pain. An excruciating, stabbing pain on his torso.

Chat let out a ragged scream, sagging against a wall and crumpling to the ground, clutching at the throbbing slash on his side. Breathing became excruciating.

And yet, he forced himself to his feet. He took a step. Then another. He reached for his staff and got back into a defensive stance.

Hawkmoth’s lips twitched upwards, amusement dancing in his eyes. Chat could have even sworn it almost looked like pride, but surely that was impossible.

Chat leaped towards him with a downwards strike of his staff, which was easily blocked, and they resumed their skirmish. Hawkmoth advanced on him, drawing out the combat comfortably, and yet Chat became more and more winded by the second. He looked around, searching in vain for any object that could be used to his advantage.

Rivulets of sweat traveled down his face and neck and it was then that his eyes widened in realization.

He’s toying with me. He just wants to tire me out.

Sensing his hesitation, Hawkmoth slashed at Chat’s leg with a long horizontal swipe. Chat howled in pain, collapsing onto the cold, hard tile once again.

Hawkmoth roughly lifted him by the right arm and yanked him towards the small table in the center of the room. He threw him down with a loud thunk and held him down by the wrist. Chat was too weak to wrest himself out of the ironclad grasp, not even able to put up the slightest hint of resistance.

Hawkmoth lifted his sword, readying himself to strike downwards. Chat looked up, eyes hazy and disoriented. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to shake off the fog in his brain.

“Surrender, or lose your ring the hard way,” Hawkmoth hissed, his face half concealed in shadow.

Chat looked up at him in confusion. Why not just take the ring from his finger, since he clearly wasn’t in any condition to fight anymore?

“Father…” Chat croaked out. “Why are you doing this?”

The corner of Hawkmoth’s mouth quirked upwards into a cruel sneer. “I’m teaching you a lesson. After all, disobedient children must be disciplined.”

Chat’s eyes grew wide in terror. He’s really going to do it. Is… Is this how it ends for me? In my own home, broken, and alone?

On the verge of despairing, a soft, loving voice spoke from the corner of his mind:

“You’re not alone anymore, Chat.”

Ladybug’s kind words washed over him like a gentle, cooling breeze, easing his fear and filling his heart with hope. Whatever happened, Hawkmoth must never get ahold of the ring.

A small flicker of an idea crossed his mind.

Chat scoffed and remarked sarcastically, “You picked an odd time to finally decide to start parenting.” He looked up at him, raising his free hand. “But you’re not the only one who’s got a few tricks up their sleeve.”

Hawkmoth paused, eyeing him curiously.

Chat gave him a final smirk and said calmly, “Cataclysm.”

Hawkmoth’s face contorted in surprise, and he let out an infuriated shout as Chat’s left palm touched the floor.

Unbeknownst to him, Chat had gained the ability to summon Cataclysm through both hands, and not just through the one that wore the ring. Hawkmoth had been counting on him not being able to use his power without uselessly destroying the table his right (ring) hand was resting on.

Long, spidery veins stretched across the entire floor, slowly spreading their sickly, rusted blackness. Losing his balance as the ground crumbled beneath them, Hawkmoth let go of Chat’s wrist and leaped backwards, away from the epicenter of destruction.

Moments later, Hawkmoth rose from the rubble, pushing some debris off of himself in irritation. The dust had cleared somewhat, and the dim light of the sunset entering through the window illuminated the room once again.

Finally coming back to his senses, Hawkmoth’s head whipped back and forth, searching across the chasm. But it was too late. Chat was already gone.

Consumed with both disbelief and rage, he let out a loud scream; raw, savage, and haunting.

(Mood Music: Like I’m Going to Lose You - Meghan Trainor, Eric Chou cover)

Marinette leisurely stepped out the side door of the bakery humming a soft tune, carrying a large bag of trash. With a grunt, she hefted the bag into a waste bin along the edge of the sidewalk for morning pickup. She stretched out her tired limbs, reaching her hands over her head and admiring the soft hues of the darkening sky.

She yawned as she opened the door to go back inside, but stopped in her tracks. A sudden, insistent feeling pricked and prodded at her insides, urging her to turn around. Something didn’t feel right. Seconds ticked by; then a whole minute. It just didn’t make sense to feel so uneasy.

Sighing resignedly, she decided to follow her instincts even though nothing in the area seemed out of the ordinary.

And so Marinette sat on the steps, keeping her eyes peeled for anything odd and her ears open for anything unusual. Several minutes passed. But there was nothing. No akumas, no old ladies in distress, no cats stuck in trees.

Tikki phased through the door discreetly, having grown concerned about Marinette’s absence, as she’d only planned to be gone for less than a minute.

“Marinette? Is anything wrong?” Tikki whispered as she zipped behind Marinette’s neck, hidden by a long curtain of midnight hair.

Marinette shrugged, hugging her arms around herself as a rather ineffective shield from the crisp evening air. “I don’t know, Tikki. I just… I had a strong feeling that I needed to be out here.” She sighed softly. Maybe it wasn’t her instinct after all, but leftover jitters from her near death experience earlier that day.

“We could check, to make sure. Let’s take a small stroll around the block before going back inside, just in case,” Tikki suggested. Marinette nodded in agreement and stood, reluctant but compliant.

The walk around the neighborhood was… uneventful.

Marinette quirked her mouth to the side in consternation and murmured low so only Tikki could hear, “Well… no news is good news, right?”

Tikki made a small humming sound, not quite convinced. However, she knew that ever since Marinette had begun developing and strengthening more of her miraculous’ abilities over the years, that there were bound to be a few false alarms.

And so, Marinette began heading home. Tikki leaned her tiny head on her charge’s shoulder, no longer on alert but still keeping an eye out.

And then she saw him.

“MARINETTE!!” Tikki whisper-screamed, yanking on the hair by her left ear to get her to turn her head.

Marinette winced. “Ow! Tikki! Why did y-“ The words died in her throat. Her eyes widened like saucers and her breath escaped her as if she’d been punched in the gut.

A slim, black form was slumped against a wall inside a tiny, darkened nook between buildings. Marinette recognized it instantly.

She dashed towards him, heart pounding in terror and confusion. Her eyes darted around as she crossed the street to look for an assailant, but saw no one.

She fell to the ground next to him, quickly examining him. His breathing was labored, but he was alive. Barely. He was struggling to stay conscious, clearly exhausted, and his belt was tightly wrapped around his thigh to stop the bleeding from a large wound.

“Chat Noir!!? What happened?!” she cried, aghast and horrified by his condition.

Her voice jolted him out of his haze and his eyes popped open in alarm. He seemed to recognize her and his eyes softened, looking relieved and almost… trusting?

She tried again. “What happened?! Who did this to you?”

Chat froze, glancing around the area nervously, like he was searching for something.

“I… I… I gotta go,” he said in a rush, extending his staff to help him stand.

Marinette frowned in surprise. “Wait! What are you doing??”

“I can’t stay here,” he insisted, limping away from the wall and aiming to vault to the top of the building.

“What?! Why??” she demanded, rushing to stand in front of him.

He shook his head. “I’m sorry, I can’t get you involved. Please, go home, it could be dangero- AUGH!” He bit down on a pained cry, clutching his injured torso. He panted heavily, face twisted in agony. Nevertheless, he continued with his objective as he tried to walk around Marinette.

She pulled him back before he could flee. “No! Stop! You’re in no condition to go anywhere! We need to get you some help!”

“Mar–Mademoiselle, please…” he said, his eyes pleading. “Forget we ever met. You might be in danger if you’re seen with me.”

Marinette stood her ground and firmly walked him back towards the wall, gripping the top of his staff with her other hand in defiance.

“NO,” she repeated emphatically.

Chat faltered, and exhaustion seemed to catch up to him all at once. His eyes became glazed and he swayed forward, head spinning. His legs buckled and he sagged against her with a pained groan. Marinette caught him and managed to ease him down to the ground, where she held him close, wrapping her arms around him to lend him her warmth.

The corner of his mouth pulled upwards. “Heh, you’re stubborn. I like that.”

Cheeky, her eyes squinted in slight amusement.

“I’m not the only one,” she countered, giving him a small smile.

He looked at her with a soft expression on his face, gently placing his hand on top of hers. “You’re also really sweet.” Marinette could feel her face heat up despite herself.

Before either could say anything more, his ring beeped.

Chat shifted in surprise, but his wounded side twitched in painful protest. He clutched it tightly with his other arm, hissing in distress. Marinette winced and drew him closer, trying to offer a small measure of comfort. She could feel his body trembling.

“C-could you do something for me?” Chat asked apprehensively, voice cracking.

Marinette blinked, somewhat stunned. “Of course,” she replied, voice barely above a whisper.

He bit his lip, eyes glistening. “Will you… will you please tell her that I’m sorry?” he croaked out, voice full of regret and sadness. “That I didn’t mean to leave her?”

Marinette’s stomach felt like it was being squeezed into a vice. Fear gripped her and she clutched him desperately. “Chat, NO! You’re going to be fine!! Stay with me!”

Chat squeezed her hand and murmured with difficulty, “I’m so sorry, Marinette. For everything.”

Then he slipped into unconsciousness.

[races-erster]

knight in shining armor (davey x reader)

Requested: yep! by anon!

Word Count: 3185

Warnings: Violence

A/n: This is the longest fic I’ve ever written, and I’m very proud of the outcome! This is also my first time writing for Davey, and i feel like it’s pretty in character, so I hope you all think the same! also, thanks for the anon who requested this! I ad a lot of fun writing it! 

Prompt: “you make me cliche, but I love it I guess.”

Materlist

How to be tagged

Request

—

David Jacobs had read hundreds of books. Some were scientific, others had been plays, but his absolute favorite were fairy tales or anything romantically cliche.

When David started to sell newspapers, his time for reading was diminished. He longed to read anything other than the news. He longed for a cliche story to read. He longed for the stories of a knight in shining armor, saving someone, and them living happily ever after.

David wanted his life to be like those stories he wanted to be the hero for once in his life. He wanted an epic love story. Little did he know, he was about to have all of that.

—

You noticed him as soon as he walked through the circulation gate. There was a new kid, and for some reason , he was incredibly intriguing: the way he carried himself and the way he dressed was different from all the boys you had gotten used to. He seemed reserved and worried about the strange new company around him and about the small kid who trailed closely behind.

You had been talking to Jack when your attention was further drawn towards the new kids. The smaller of the two made a comment about also being new to Wiesel as if he was offended for not being noticed.

After that, you all turned to see the situation unfold. The older boy had claimed that he was missing a paper, and the Delanceys looked like they were getting ready to soak him for the accusation. Jack started to go over to the kid, but you stopped him and went over yourself.

The kid looked startled when you went over and abruptly took his papers to count them.

“Hey, the new kid’s right Weasel. You only gave him 19. I’m sure it’s an honest mistake though, on account of Oscar can’t count to 20 with his shoes on,” you teased.

Oscar looked ready to fight you, so Jack drew the attention away, “Give the new kid 50 more papes!”

“I don’t want more papers. I’m no charity case. I don’t even know you.”

The older kid grabbed the smaller one’s hand and began to pull him towards the exit of the square, but the latter pulled out of his grasp and climbed up on a stack of papers.

“His name is Jack! And that’s Y/n!”

“Yeah! This here’s the famous Jack Kelly! He once escaped jail on the back of Teddy Roosevelt’s carriage. Made all the papes. Y/n’s smuggled food and things to the kids in the refuge all their life and they get kids out of there sometimes. They’re the best newsie in the city too,” Crutchie boasted.

“Guilty,” you admitted. “How old are you, kid?”

“I’m 10...almost!”

“Well kid, if anybody asks, you’re 7. Younger sells more papes, especially if we’re gonna partner.”

That got the older kid’s attention really drawn in on you and the younger kid, “Who said we wanna partner?”

“Selling with Y/n is the chance of a lifetime. You sell with them, you sell with the best!” Crutchie boasted again.

“If they’re the best, what do they need with us?”

“Cause you got a little brother and I don’t. With that puss, we could easily sell a thousand papes a week,” you countered.

“This is my brother David! And I’m Les!”

“Nice to meet you Davey. My two bits come off the top, we split everything 70 30. Y’know what? I’ll do you even better than that. 60 40.”

“50 50. You’re trying to pull a fast one on a little kid!”

“60 40 and that’s my final offer. Deal?” You asked, spitting in your hand and sticking it out for him to shake.

“Deal,” he said, spitting in his hand and returning the handshake.

“That’s disgusting,” Davey inquired.

“That’s just business,” you protested. “We better go before the Delanceys try to kick us out. Come on.”

—

Les was a natural born seller. Davey on the other hand, wasn’t as good as he could be. You had sold out of papers long before he had. Les had even run out of them and sold one of Davey’s last two.

Davey tried so hard to sell the paper, but it was to no avail. He wasn’t able to make up headlines or make the stories sound interesting. You decided that you would just sell his paper for him and give him the money.

“Extra, extra! Terrifying flight from burning inferno! You heard the story right here!” You called, and a man came up and paid you for the paper.

“You lied,” Davey gawked.

“I did not,” you protested. “I said he heard it right here and he did.”

“Yeah well, my father told me not to lie,” Davey said bluntly.

“Theirs taught them not to starve,” Jack said coming up behind you.

“We should get going if we’re going to find them a place to stay, Jack,” you said turning to him.

“Oh, yeah. Right. Hey,” he started addressing Davey and Les, “how about we divy up the money? We’ll get you some food and find you a place to stay.”

“Oh, we gotta get home. Our folks will be waiting with dinner.”

“You have folks?” You questioned.

“Doesn’t everyone?”

Les’ question made you sharply inhale and look down at the ground. Les was too innocent for his own good. You only hoped he would never have to go through losing one of his parents while he was still young.

“Les,” Davey warned once he saw how your demeanor change. “Why don’t you come over for dinner? Our folks would be glad to have you.”

“Thanks, but I just remembered that Jack and I have a meeting with somebody soon. They’re probably waiting for us now,” you lied.

Les pointed further down the road and asked, “Is that the guy you’re meeting?”

You turned and saw Snyder coming toward you. He noticed you and Jack and called out your names. You told Davey and Les to follow you as you all ran down the streets of the city.

You were still being chased by the time you got to the Bowery. Jack ran up the fire escape followed by Les and then Davey. As you started to climb, you felt a hand grab you ankle and start to pull you back towards the ground.

Davey noticed that you were taking longer than everyone else had, so he turned to check on you. He saw Snyder pulling you down by your leg and he gave you his hand to pull you up.

Once you were finally free from Snyder and up the fire escape of the theater, Davey still had ahold of your hand and you had a strange feeling in your chest.

—

You all entered the theater though a back window and ended up on the catwalk.

“Why am I running? I have nobody chasing me,” Davey muttered.

“Believe me, if you knew who that was, you’d have a reason to run,” you replied.

“Then, who was it?”

“You were about to answer when Jack spoke up instead, “That was Snyder. He runs a jail for underage kids called the Refuge.”

“Do yourself a favor and stay clear of him and that god awful place,” you added.

He nodded as you heard Miss Medda call out from the stage “No kids allowed in the theater!”

Jack climbed down from the catwalk, and the rest of you followed in suit. You and Jack both greeted Miss Medda and you introduced Davey and Les.

When Davey greeted her, he bowed as if he was meeting royalty, and you couldn’t help but laugh to yourself a little. It was kinda cute.

Davey heard you laugh quietly, and shot straight up from his position. He could feel the heat rising to his face, but turned when he noticed that Les was staring at the Bowery Beauties.

“What’s wrong with you?” He asked Les sternly.

“Are you blind? She’s got no clothes on!” Les responded.

You, Jack, and Medda all tried to hold back your laughter while the conversation between Davey and Les was unfolding. You had lost focus on what was happening around you as you looked at Davey, until you heard Miss Medda say, “Theater’s not only entertaining, it’s educational. Got your picture kid?”

Les nodded frantically as Miss Medda had began to acknowledge the backdrop Jack had painted her. Les and Davey began to admire and compliment him on his work, but he just brushed of the comments as if painting something that intricate was child’s play.

Suddenly, Miss Medda’s stage manager ran up to her, telling her that she was supposed to be on stage. She made a joke about and laughed, which you and Jack went along with as well.

Miss Medda told you to stay as long as you all needed to before she went on stage to perform. Jack went to sit with the audience, while you, Davey, and Les stayed behind and watched from backstage.

After Medda went on and introduced the Bowery Beauties to the audience, you noticed that Les looked exhausted. You nudged Davey from his spot beside you to get his attention.

“Y/n, I think I’m going to take him home,” Davey whispered to you in order to not interrupt the show.

“That’s probably a good idea. I’ll walk out with you since I can’t find Jack.”

—

The three of you went outside of the theater after you made sure Snyder wasn’t still out there waiting for you.

“Y/n, do you want us to take you back to wherever you’re staying?” Davey asked.

“No thanks, Davey. I’ll be alright. Besides I don’t want to keep you guys from getting home. Your parents are probably worried.”

“Okay. Goodnight, Y/n.”

“Goodnight, Davey.”

—

The walk home between Davey and Les had been silent. Les was thinking through the day, and thought of a question for Davey.

“You like Y/n don’t you?”

“They’re nice. Is that what you mean?” Davey replied.

“No. I mean you love them, don’t you?”

Heat rose up to Davey’s face for the second time that night and stuttered out, “People don’t fall in love in one day, Les.”

“But that’s how all your books go. The one guy, I can’t remember what they’re called, saves somebody and then they fall in love right after.”

“They’re called knights in shining armor. And I haven’t saved Y/n from anything. Besides, people only fall in love like that in stories,” Davey defended.

“You have saved them though. When that guy was chasing us and he grabbed Y/n, you went to get them,” Les added.

Davey never responded and spent the rest of the night contemplating what Les had said. Even when he was trying to fall asleep, he couldn’t get your name out of his head. Maybe Les was right.

It would explain why he was so embarrassed when he greeted Miss Medda and it would explain why he didn’t let go of your hand after he knew you were safe when Snyder grabbed you.

Meanwhile, back at the lodge you were having similar thoughts. You kept thinking back to that feeling of Davey’s hand in yours, how your hand felt empty without his, and how he offered to take you back to the lodge. He sure was something else.

—

The next day, you woke up feeling great, until you saw the new headline. They were going to make you pay 60 cents for 100 papers instead of the usual 50. You all decide that no one was going to sell papers until they put the price back. You were one strike.

The boys all decided that you and Jack would be the presidents of the strike. Davey was the only one who was apprehensive about joining though. You explained to him why you all had to go on strike, and he finally agreed.

Later that day, you were all sitting around the tables at Jacobi’s Deli discussing who would tell the other boroughs about the strike. It was decided that you, Jack, and Davey would take care of Brooklyn.

While you were all determining who would go where, a young woman walking in asking why everyone was so afraid of Brooklyn. Jack seemed to already know her, and you sort of recognized her from the day before.

She said that she would be able to get all of you in the paper, front page even, if she had an exclusive story about the strike. That got the attention of everybody, and soon you were all wondering if you would actually be able to be on the front page.

You all left after that and decided to head to your designated boroughs the next morning. You and Davey bid each other goodnight just as you had the night before.

—

Waiting for the circulation gate to open the next morning felt the same as torture. Brooklyn wasn’t coming, and you were losing hope that anyone else would.

Race came up and asked if you had seen Brooklyn and you couldn’t help but groan.

“Sure we seen him,” Jack exhaustedly said.

“Him and about 20 of his gang,” Davey inquired.

“And those Brooklyn boys is big,” Les added.

“Yeah, everyone except for Spot,” you said, sarcastically. “At least he was impressed though. Not with us, but impressed.”

“He’s really not gonna help?” Race questioned, his tone filled with discouragement.

“That all depends on how you look at it. If you look and see Brooklyn, they’re with us,” Davey explained.

“Yeah. They wanted proof that we weren’t going to fold at the first sign of trouble,” you scoffed.

The rest of the newsies came by, and said that each borough was only going to join once Brooklyn would. Needless to say, everyone was ready to quit.

Jack had Davey launch into a big speech about how we had to strike in order for everybody to see that you all weren’t just kids. By the end of it, you were once again ready to face Pulitzer and Hearst and get the rights that you all deserved.

—

Suddenly, three scabs pushes passed everyone and bought papers. Jack spoke up to get them to join the side of everyone else, and soon after, everyone was speaking in order to get them to join your side.

The scabs decided to ditch Weasel and the Delanceys in order to fight for what was right, and the strike looked like it would end in your favor.

You were by Davey when you heard Les calling for help. You both turned, and saw the Delanceys shoving Les around. Davey ran over and pushed the Delanceys away from him, and he gave Les to you.

All the newsies in the square cornered the Delanceys and pushed then down, so Les was able to hit them together. Once they were able to get up, the Delanceys ran out of the gate.

You all threw papers around after they left, and you ran to find Davey in the crowd. Once you did, you threw your arms around him.

“Thank you, Davey. Without you none of this would have happened,” you said.

You kissed his cheek and he returned your hug. You stayed in each other’s embrace until you noticed everyone had gone silent. You lifted your head off of Davey’s shoulder and saw Weasel surrounded by strikebreakers. Davey noticed the look on your face, and followed your gaze to once again see the large amount of strikebreakers. Instinctively, his arms wrapped tighter around your waist.

“Y/n, I need you to take Les and get out of here.”

“Davey, I’m not leaving without you. Either we both go, or someone else takes Les,” you protested. “What if Katherine took him? Or at least hid with him?”

“Fine. But if anything happens, come find me, okay?” He asked, as Jack told all the newsies to fight.

“I will.”

You ran to find Katherine to two her to keep an eye on Les. She grabbed his hand and ran with him to hide in the nearest alleyway.

—

You had been fighting one of the strikebreakers when you heard Romeo thanking a cop for showing up. Next thing you knew, Romeo was on the ground, and Davey had been hit by the bull.

You rushed over to his side to make sure that he was alright, but all he said in return was, “Y/n, you have to go now. Please.”

“Davey. I’m not going. Everyone needs me here and besides, I wouldn’t leave unless you did too.”

“Okay. Just don’t get hurt.”

You ran off to help Elmer, but ended up being grabbed by Oscar. He punched you and knocked you to the ground. It ended up knocking all of the air out of you and it took you a few minutes to remember what was going on.

You were still on the ground when you saw Davey over you, getting Oscar away from you the best that he could. Eventually, Oscar got tired of his efforts, and moved on to fight someone else.

Davey picked you up, and you tried to protest, but by the time you started, you, Davey, Katherine, and Les we’re out of the square.

“What happened to them, Davey?” Les asked, worried about you.

“One of the brothers just messed with them a little bit. They’ll be okay though,” he answered.

You looked up at Davey and couldn’t help but admire him. Eventually, you felt a wave of exhaustion take over you, and fell asleep in Davey’s arms.

—

You woke up and felt something on your head. You removed the wash rag, and looked over to your right. Davey was next to you, tending to another one of your wounds.

He noticed that you had woken up, and moved so he could help you sit up in the bed.

“How’re you feeling?”

“I’m okay, Davey. Really.”

“I’m glad,” he started. “When you fell asleep, I got a little worried.”

“You don’t have you be worried. I’m okay.”

You moved so you could rest your head on his shoulder. After sometime, you finally said “You know, Davey? You make me really cliche, but I love it, I guess.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just, thank you for saving me.”

“I wouldn’t necessarily say that I saved you,” Davey said, blushing at your words.

“I would. It’s the second time you have, really. First you saved me from Snyder, then you saved me from Oscar. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re like my own personal knight in shining armor,” you joked.

Although it was a joke, there was a lot of truth behind it. Davey had saved from any tough spot you had been in since you met. In a way, he was your hero.

“Well,” Davey started, “when a knight in shining armor saves someone, they usually end up falling in love. Does that mean you’re falling in love with me?” Davey asked you, nervously.

“It just might.”

—

Tag List:

@blytheandherbrain @adderall-anon @well-the-kids-do-too @writer-of-camelot@viennaleia@sunshinecrutchie @sapphire–love @midnight-finch @crutchieee-morris@dpslover4life-blog @newsieswearingheelies @fishtankfullofpennies@musicalidiotthe3rd @ben-cook-can-cook @pandalfthesmol@carryingthedaveyjacobs @sunshine-musicals-yea @just-go-and-get-her@ilovebway @thebroadwayaesthetic @was-it-the-nargles-again @fandom-fangirl07 @newsies-plaza @i-got-personality @awwwwwwdang @c0ronas@ughwaitwhat @thecaptainsgingersnap @the-woild-is-my-what-now @you-thinks-wrong-romeo @suddenly-im-respecsable @racinghiggins @bennie-badeend @ilovejoshburrage @val-dani03 @newsie-fics @newtieparker @seasickdolphin @happy-little-musician @the-story-of-the-tucks @the-world-has-buttery-smiles @spot-conlon-king-of-brooklyn @the-real-king-racetrack-higgins @c-taylor-wanna-be-a-glader @rsis0811 @iwantsomesleep @nverkept @constantly-singing @happy-little-musician @bastille-smedry @king-of-nyc @jd-sammy @farfromjustordinary

[alloveroliver]

Sirius x Jonah “ The Love Accords”

Smut n Fluff: Sirius Oswald; Jonah Clemence

M/M WC: 2,095

Ikemen Revolution Fanfic

• ·  .  ·  ´  `  · . ·•· . · ´ ` · . ·•· . · ´ ` · . ·•· . ·  ´  `  ·  .  · • Jonah admired many things about the opposing Queen. His hidden dedications, how well he decelerated tense situations, and the way he treated Luka with care as if he were his own brother. These qualities always stuck out to the Red Queen but only when he found Sirius alone at the tavern one night, did he ever mention it. Sirius offered to meet him in the tavern every so often to chat. Luka would always come up as well as inquiries of their personal life. Over time they learned enough of one another to bring custom gifts. Jonah felt himself blush handing Sirius a packet of hybrid rose seeds, breed to grow a deep shade of purple. Sirius learned how to make Millie frillie the right way from Luka. He added extra strawberries and boxed up the cake to gift the younger man. Both danced around flirtatious touched and joking comments about people thinking they were dating. But, Sirius soon realized that he didn’t actually care if anyone mistook them as a couple, in fact, he got excited when they did. The only evening that seemed to change everything was the night the Black Queen drank slightly too much liquor for his body to handle. Jonah helped the taller man to a room at the tavern with the barkeep's extra leverage. Worry overtook the Red Queen, bringing extra water and some bready snacks to put by his bedside. Ultimately, Jonah decided to stay with him until he knew he would be okay. That morning Sirius woke up to Jonah sleeping in the most uncomfortable position on the couch. After knocking back some water he staggered over to the younger man, helping him to his feet. In a groggy haze, Jonah was walked over to the bed, plopping down onto the warm covers. Sirius slid in next to him, and the pair of them slept the rest of the night comfortably. That was when it all changed, however, neither of them brought it up for a while after that. Jonah became easily bashful of things Sirius would tease him about, and Sirius would stand up for Jonah any time someone tried to tease him. Gentle touches were shared and soon when Sirius met up with Jonah at the light festival. Under the bridge of shimmering colors and multitudes of small bulbs lighting the pathway, the older man took ahold of Jonah’s cheeks, eagerly kissing him. The light kiss seemed to ask a silent question to Jonah, asking if the young queen shared his feelings. Jonah let the kiss linger without pressing back, not until Sirius pulled away ready to apologize for the suddenness of it all, did Jonah grab his collar and pull the taller man into a deeper more passionate kiss. From then on, their meetups were called dates, and their hands always found one another in private. Neither of the men were ones for public displays of affection, so the concern of the two opposing army queens being seen in a compromising position was low. Tonight, Sirius was nervous as he waited patiently at the bar tavern for his lover. He ordered a large pot of tea and an appetizer to tide him over. Sirius had gotten there a bit too early, ordering a room at the tavern to leave his overnight bag in while they ate their meal. Jonah was surely late due to the number of items he probably tired of stuffing into a singular bag. A smile touched Sirius’ lips at the thought of the younger man dragging around the hefty load of clothes just for a single night out. He was able to get through one cup of tea before he spotted the man's mint hair through the growing dinner crowd. Low and behold, he was dragging a rather large rucksack that looked dreadfully heavy. Sirius leaped up from his chair to greet him, make fun of him, or help him, he was waiting to decide. Jonah saw him and dropped the luggage. “Sirius,” His golden eyes lit up, drinking in the sight of him. Sirius sent him a sexy smirk. The urge to hug was too much, but they both refrained, standing inches from each other. The chatter in the restaurant became muffled in the Black Queen’s ear despite the establishment being packed. “I know you’re strong, so that must be one hell of a deadweight bag for you to be looking so exhausted right now.” Sirius’ hand itched to move up to cup his cheek, so he clenched it.  Instead, Jonah huffed, gesturing at the baggage. “It's not just clothing… It’s other products, and I don’t know what we had planned for tomorrow, so I packed a few different outfit choices.” Cutting his eyes to the side, he spotted the tavern owner. “Did you get the room already?” Sirius smiled wide, his heart filling as his boyfriend's cuteness overwhelmed him. “Ah, yeah.” He ran his hand through his hair then over his face to try to hide his smile. “C’mon, I will show you the way so we can eat dinner without having to worry about anyone tripping over your things.” “Thank you.” Jonah was blushing causing Sirius to squint. “Why are you flustered? I don’t think I’ve done anything worth being bashful over, yet.” Jonah huffed as if the other Queen should already know why he was so sheepish. Fixing a piece of his hair back into place he cut his eyes to the side. “You mentioned us staying together is all. Anyway,” He perked up, walking a few steps to leave his bag behind. “Why don't you carry my bag and show me the way.” 

Sirius shook his head, grabbing that straps of the massive monstrosity of a bag and lead the way to their room. Up the wooden stairs and to the right were all the smaller rooms. This time Sirius veered left towards the more expensive custom rooms that were large enough to be an entire apartment home. Seeing this change in direction Jonah grinned. “Spoiling me, I see.” Sirius’ laugh was husky. With the drop off of the baggage inside the freshly cleaned bedroom and the slam of the door, Jonah wrapped his arms around Sirius’ neck. “Woah, ah ha-” Sirius’ surprised laugh was then muffled by Jonah's firm lips. Unable to stop the kiss, both lovers held one another tight. Sirius finally wrapped his arm around Jonah's waist and pulled his body firmly against his heaving chest. Jonah’s hands wrapped tighter around Sirius’ neck. “Isn’t it obvious that I want you? Do I need to spell it out?” Jonah pouted, pressing his forehead to Sirius’ lips. Sirius grinned, pecking a kiss to his lover's skin before leaning down to his ear. His nose nuzzled the man’s mint hair, gently brushing the sensitive part of his neck. Jonah shuttered, yet lay farther into the older man’s arms. “We will miss our dinner reservations.” Sirius’ voice dripped seduction, scraping his teeth under Jonah’s ear. “I-” Jonah let out a groan when Sirius bit his earlobe. “I don’t care. When I first saw you in the dining area, I wanted to run at you and kiss you silly. Now that we’re alone, I can.” He back away, looking the older man in the eyes. Sirius’ sparking heliotrope eyes darkened as they narrowed to Jonah's first button. With a glance back up, Sirius pressed his lips firmly against the Red Queens in a desperate fashion. His hands came up, popping each button of his shirt before pushing the clean-pressed fabric off his toned shoulders. “Unbutton me, if you would,” Sirius asked in a husky tone. Jonah went to work on his buttons while Sirius shrugged off his jacket and loosened his tie. Sirius tossed off the accessory, letting it fall next to his jacket. With each button Jonah undid he pressed a firm kiss to his chest, a sigh left Sirius’ lips while his chest heaved at the contact. “You’re lips are so soft.” The older man commented while running his fingers thought Jonah's hair. His locks tousled, but Jonah paid no mind until he reached Sirius’ belly button. Lingering for a long moment, he decidedly began unbuckling Sirius’ belt. “Ah-” The Queen of spade sighed. “You’re so eager for me, Hm?” He meant it to sound like a question, but it came out like a longing plea. Jonah let the belt fall to the floor, then popped open the button of Sirius’ trousers, unzipping them abruptly. Jonah stood, eyeing his topless lover, drinking in his sold chest encase with soft, smooth skin. “Or are you just teasing me?” Sirius added, a mischievous grin on his face. Jonah sauntered over to the bed and took a seat. He patted the space next to him on the mattress and smiled wide. “Not a tease, just wanted a place more comfortable to ravage you.” Sirius squared his shoulders, moving over to Jonah. His muscles rippled when he walked, bicep flexing as he ran his fingers through his dark hair. The unbuttoned pants hung low on his hips revealing a distinct line that drew Jonah’s eye.  Biting his lips absently, Jonah’s hands came out to Sirius’ pants before he could sit. The fabric hit the floor, and Jonah let out a long sigh as Sirius stood bare-skinned in front of him. “Stand up.” At Sirius command, Jonah hopped up to his feet at once. Sirius sat down in his place adjusting his feet apart. He pointed to the floor and looked up at Jonah. “You were so eager to please before, why don’t you start now?” Despite the taunting grin on Sirius’ face, Jonah moved between his legs. Press the palms of his hands over the thighs of his lover, he knelt completely. Grabbing the base of his member, Jonah stroked a few times slowly before pressing a kiss to the tip. Jonah's lips encased the head of Sirius’ cock, taking him in slowly. The older man groaned as he started to lean back. He caught himself on his elbow and brought the other hand to Jonah's head. His digits tangled in the Queen of hearts hair. “God Jonah,” Sirius hissed when the man grazed his teeth over the shaft. His hand pushed harder on the back of Jonah’s head, making the younger man take his cock all the way to the back of his throat. Jonah took him all, then pulled back out. He then looked up at Sirius, brows knitted. “Is there something wrong?” Sirius was concerned, moving his hand to cup the younger cheek. “No, I just…” He trailed off. “I just want to make love to you, but I also want you to be, um…” He was quiet again, alerting Sirius to sit up straight. “I want to make love to you too.” He reassured the golden-eyed man. “What else were you saying?” His plumb eyes search his partners face. “You can be rough with me,” Jonah spoke in hushed tones. Sirius’ lips formed into a wordless O. He leaned down, cupping both of Jonah’s cheeks with a gentle gaze. “Anything you want, you can have it.” As he spoke, Sirius began to stroke Jonah's disheveled hair. He would meet his lover's request, asking along the way if he was okay. Taking the time to kiss him passionately letting him know how much he was loved. With Jonah writhing beneath him face down, Sirius would tug his hair as he sheathed himself into the Red Queen continuously. Both men were spent at the end of it all. Sirius was finally able to hold his lover in his arms as he wished to do the entire long week. The dinner crowd came and went as the men indulged in the others pleasure. As they lay naked by one another's side on the massive bed, Jonah snuggled into the opposing Queen’s neck. Sirius’ large hand ran through his messy mint locks, sweaty and tousled after their passionate display. The Black Queen panted still, catching his breath while they snuggled. “What about a nice hot shower?” Sirius’ voice, gruffer than earlier, sounded in Jonah’s ear. “Mm, Yes. That sounds nice. But, I think I may need more time to recoup.” “Nonsense. I will help you. I’ll even wash you if you're too weak. I don’t mind, and I’d love to take care of you…” Sirius yawned. “What about dinner?” Jonah whispered sheepishly, realizing they missed their reservation time. “It’s a tavern, and they are open until 2 AM. We have plenty of time to wash up and get changed.”

. . .

Thank you for the request @bangtanfangirlxx !!!

[I actually love this ship oh lorddddd]

I hope you don’t mind that I changed the prompt slightly. For prompts that are more complicated, I would wish to be compensated. All these fics take a lot of work, many hours of writing and editing, and I’m doing it all for free. I hope you understand! <3

ML // KOFI // AO3

𝔸𝕊ℍ - 𝔸𝕝𝕝𝕆𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕆𝕝𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕣

[littleangel4996]

My Fate Pt 2

Summary: After your trip to the grocery store, you find Selene digging the gardens again. But what you find leaves you clueless

After having the movers help move my new stuff in that Coco helped pick out for me from letgo, I finally was settled in as I plop myself on the couch and Selene hopped on my stomach while I turn on the TV. Nothing good was on except Sabrina the teenage witch so that one is good.

This show reminded me of Selene and I but except she doesn't talk .

Beep beep

My phone goes off. I take it out of my pocket and saying it's Queenie on Skype. I pressed the button and it was Queenie and the girls. Both of them sitting on her bed squealing and saying hi.

"oh hey girls"

"Hey (y/n) how are you and Selene settled in your new home" asked Zoe.

"The house is perfect from the outside and inside, 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, a big kitchen with a dining room and a living room. Plus the backyard came with a rose garden" I explained.

"Any cute shirtless boys in your area" of course Madison would ask that question but I gotta love her. When she said that she got glares and a shut up from Queenie.

"What, she needs to get that big-" before Madison could finish her sentence she was hit with a pillow by none other than Misty.

" Oh my God girls, you are too much" I laughed.

" We must visit you one day " Nan said in her happy voice.

"I know, I'm already missing you".

"We really miss ya doll, hope ya make the time to come out here" Misty says.

"Yeah it's totally quiet here. It's going to be weird without your loud music blaring, your jokes and pranks" Mallory said.

"Oh, Girls listen quit mopping around because of me I mean look were talking and we're laughing and all. This isn't goodbye, I'm still going to see my sisters one day" I said smiling.

" Oh god, we love and miss you (y/n)" Coco said almost about to tear up and Mallory held her close .

" Oh I almost forgot, how is supreme Cordelia and Myrtle" I asked.

" The ladies went out for a grocery run but they said they will contact you when they can" Queenie answered.

"Oh okay, well sorry I have to go now and feed Selene and I so chat later girls" as we both said our goodbyes, I picked up the phone to looked up grocery stores near me as I go up stairs to my bedroom and order myself a Uber. I've found a Ralphs near by typed the direction to where I need to go.

It said the driver will be here about 3 minutes. Cool, that gives me enough time to quickly get out of my jeans and my FOB t-shirt and change into my yellow sundress leaving on my black and white sneakers and putting on my Jean jacket .

---2 to 3 from the grocery store---

I thanked the Uber driver for the ride and helping me with the groceries before he drove off. Damn I've never seen a grocery store packed. In New Orleans, their market was small and not a lot of whole people. I pull out my house key out of my jean jacket as I insert it into the keyhole and unlocking it. I came inside, going to the kitchen to set down the three bags of groceries. I thought frozen pizza would be easy meal to cook. And as for Selene, I got her friskies dry and wet food.

I pulled out four boxes of pizza, to see which ones I should have. Either pineapple, meat lovers, cheese or supreme. Hmm..I think I'm going to go with the supreme. Every time I see supreme pizza I think of the supreme witch. I don't know why but I always make a joke about supreme pizza between supreme witch.

I shoved that in the oven and start to put the food and things for the house. I even bought Selene a pink brush with red hearts on them and a pet stuffy mouse to play with.

Speaking of Selene, where is she ?

"Selene. Selene darling " I called to her but no meow or no padding steps. That's so odd of Selene. Every time I come home she always comes to me. Maybe she's sleeping. I came out of the kitchen going to go upstairs to see if she is laying in her bed until I found the backdoor opened. Odd, I thought I closed it before the movers came. I turned my direction from the stairs to the back door. I felt a chill, making me flatten my yellow sundress.

But once I came out to the backyard I found Selene digging out what I could not believe my eyes . Selene. Digging out. Fucking. Deceased animals.

"SELENE!" I ran to her as I picked her up away from their rotten cats, rats and dogs. They were all scattered. So that's what was under the rose plants.

"Selene what is all this and why did you -" Wait a sec...Was this the reason why for the bad energy going on in the house, was because of the Dead animals. By the looks of these poor animals they were brutally killed.

"Who would do such a thing ?" I asked myself. Did the people who sold me this house knew and not told me or they did not know about this ? Maybe the person that lived here was psycho or serious issues...maybe both.Well I don't know what to do I mean, I just can't put them back where Selene found them because then I would feel like shit for doing that. I'm a softy when it comes to poor animals like these. Maybe there is another way but I haven't used this spell in a while. It is the ability to balance life's scale and return someone from the dead. I drop to my knees in front of the Dead letting Selene step aside.

I first clear my mind and let only the positive thoughts flow through my mind, placing my flat palms on the grass and start to perform this wonder as I whisper the two words.

"vitalum vitalis".

I feel the shiver as the cold wind blew at my direction almost making my dress go up. I start to see the animals start to form into their normal selves, undoing the wounds that they had. The animals I've brought back to life start to scurry away, hopping over the white fence. Selene went inside the house, probably waiting for a bath. The thought of coming inside a warm house and giving Selene a bath was soon cut off when I felt something grab ahold of both of my ankles making me fall to the ground. I quickly look to see...hands and a head coming out of the ground? What the fuck. My fear got the better of me as I start to scream, trying so hard to get away from what ever is trying to do God knows what. I look anywhere to see a hard object to find to hit the person but no luck.

Unless

I try to turn myself around and knock him out. I followed my instinct, squirming a little until I got room to turn myself around and fist him square in the jaw as he fell to the ground. But he was still awake. Wait, he? A boy? Well more like a man....hold up he was burried too, the fuck is going on here.

" Ow, please don't hurt me I I didn't mean to scare you please" he whimpered as I crouch down to meet eye level with the man thats covered in dirt but I can still make of his handsomely beautiful features, piercing blue eyes, golden blonde hair. He wears a jean jacket with a yellow shirt and khakis plus he's barefooted.

" Hey hey, it's okay you are okay. Can you tell me you're name sir" I asked. He calms himself down making, eye contact with me as I placed my hands on his shoulders.

"M-Michael, Michael Langdon".

Finally, part 2 is up. Plus what took me forever to get this part right was Everytime I tried to save it sometimes won't save and I have to start over again and my brain is like on fire but I finally got it saved and it's ready. Part 3 will be coming next week or weekend.

And here's a picture of Michael to say I'm sorry

@barbie-solecism

@sodanova

@yourkingcodyfern

@kylolangdon

@theghostoflangdon

@miskwaadesiwag

@whysosadmcfly

@creativedogs

@kaccatus

@lxngdonscoven

@captainskyline

@gracethegeek9902

@castiel-saved-me-from-myself

@edward-nygma-is-my-addiction

@let-me-try-mom

@amortentiaxo

@langdonsdemon

@poisedphantom

@avesatanormalpeoplescareme

[poeticsandaliens]

A Pirate’s Life for Me Ch. 10

Yep. It’s still fuckin’ goin. Six months later, I finally work up the motivation to finish this chapter. I have to thank @rey-thelast-jedi for offering to draw the lovely Captain Gibson for this story; it’s been hugely helpful in pushing me to finish an especially difficult chapter (after an especially dragging absence). 

If anyone catches my stupid Shakespeare joke, congratulations and I’m so, so sorry. Cheers!

AO3 Link:  https://archiveofourown.org/tags/Stella%20Gibson*s*Dana%20Scully/works

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

Scully rowed through the burning boards of the Claudius, her mouth set in a grim line. She scoured the wreckage for a wooden chest that might contain Stella’s heart. She dared to hope she had beaten Spector to the blow; he hadn’t time to plunge his knife into the captain’s heart before the Claudius was set ablaze.

She looked to the beach, at the entrance to the creek, where a few surviving sailors had gathered at the sight of fresh water. Her paddle caught on the ship’s mast, where it floated in the center of the wreck, and as she dislodged herself, the Jolly Rodger reached from the waves, clinging to her paddle like a squid, sticky and soft from the water. She hauled it into the boat—it was only fair to carry it back to a pirate’s vessel.

In the aftermath of the battle, the bay stilled eerily. No longer did the raucous sounds of soldiers and buccaneers alike rattle on in the distance. Even the island itself, once buzzing with living creatures, had gone quiet, as if Stella’s heart beat life into the enchanted isle, and without it, the landscape itself began to wither. Davy Jones sailed with the dead, while her heart gave life to an island upon which she could never set foot. Stranger things had happened since she left Port Washington.

The rowboat carried her back to the Flying Dutchman, and the ship hoisted her aboard. She tossed the Jolly Rodger beside the a mop that was swabbing seaweed off the deck. Mulder leaned against the railing, just behind the wheel, watching the sun dip as Stella had done so many times. She told herself she’d squared with the possibility that Stella had died, that she was prepared to face the loss. Deep down, she knew adrenaline and unfinished business kept her going. There’d never been a moment to wonder if Stella would survive; Hell, not even to wonder whether she and Mulder would survive. If Spector lived long enough to plunge a knife through Stella’s heart, Scully would put a bullet in his head. An eye for an eye. A pirate’s trial.

“Any sign of Stella?” Mulder asked as she climbed the stairs to the upper deck.

When Scully shook her head, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her into a hug. “The crossfire couldn’t have killed her,” he promised, engulfing her in his arms. “You told me so—you’ve seen her get shot three times in chest and walk away unharmed.”

“What if Spector got ahold of the knife? What if he stabbed her heart before the ship went up?” Scully demanded. She stared defiantly up at him, arms crossed, steeling herself to face the worst possible outcome while hoping desperately for anything else.

“Then you would have found her body. The dead always leave bones, Scully. No one just disappears. Isn’t that something you promised me, every time I told a story of ships vanishing on haunted shores? If she died at sea, her body would be there.”

She might have believed him. But Stella’s body belonged to a curse, to the Hall of the Moerae and the forces that bound her to the Dutchman. It was ageless. For all she knew, it turned to sea foam as it hit the waves.

Still, she said, “I know.”

“Scully—” Mulder’s voice caught in his throat. “Scully, look.” He grasped her collar and pointed to the Dutchman’s lower deck. Two hands grappled with the wall, followed closely by a sooty face and a familiar waistcoat. The woman hauled herself over the side and dusted off her pants, and when she looked up, her eyes glittered even from so far away.

Scully practically slid down the netting, clambering toward the captain who stood sopping wet beneath the mast of her ship. “Stella,” she breathed, throwing her arms around her before she could get a word in. “God, Stella.” She took Stella’s ashen cheeks in her hands, took in her shape, her proud nose, the way she spelled relief and admiration and something Scully wanted to believe was love.

Scully kissed Stella with all she could muster, clasping her soot-stained cheeks in her hands. She felt Stella squeeze her waist and sweep her close, saltwater seeping through her coat and sticking to her skin. She stammered as she ran her hands through Stella’s stiff, wet hair. “I knew you couldn’t stay away for long.”

“You blew up a ship for me,” Stella rasped as if she couldn’t quite believe her eyes. “You commandeered the Flying Dutchman, and you sank a ship.” She shook her head, her eyes raking over Scully’s body, from bandanna to linen shirt, trousers, and bare feet. She cracked a dry, eye-crinkling smile. “You spectacular bloody pirate.”

Scully took in those otherworldly blue eyes, swimming in so much life. Socked into a body without a beating heart. Sea water dripped onto her shirt from the scarf tied around her bloody socket. She felt its loss like a garden dug into by foxes; she felt the hollowness of her face. Now, in the tattered absence of rapiers and cannonfire, she felt it fresher than the morning her mother had taught her to bake, and she’d scooped up the sweet-smelling pot with her bare hands. She gulped down a lump she hadn’t bargained for.

Stella’s fingers brushed feather-light over the worn scarf. She softened; her lower lip trembled as she tucked Scully’s hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry for what they did to you, Love. I’m so sorry.”

“Stella,” she scolded, “don’t apologize for my pain.” She pushed aside the lapels of her linen shirt to reveal the pale scar that trailed down Stella’s chest, “I make my own choices.”

“I know.” Stella kissed her again, smearing ash with her thumb down Scully’s cheek. “I never doubted you’d give them a hell of a fight. I won’t take from you the rewards and consequences of your battles. Not from such a respectable captain such as yourself.” She frowned, pulling away. “But I am sorry to see you hurt.”

“Captain Gibson.” Mulder descended from the quarterdeck, his cheeks flush with embarrassment. Scully touched his shoulder appreciatively, shooting him a grateful look as he came up beside them. He’d allowed them a moment of privacy between lovers. For the first time, she’d had carved a space in her heart for someone who wasn’t Mulder and had her life irreversibly altered in Mulder’s absence. Fox Mulder and Dana Scully had the priceless comfort of time, but with Stella, Scully shared romantic intimacy and six weeks at sea, facing monsters and deadly storms. Pirate’s life, she couldn’t help but think. Mulder hadn’t yet settled into piracy, discomfited at first by the Jolly Rodger and the self-sailing Dutchman, but for Scully he was trying, and she could ask nothing more.

Stella acknowledged him with an arch of her brow. “Fox Mulder, I presume. It’s a pleasure to meet you in one piece.”

If Mulder hadn’t had a chance to take in the chaotic grandeur of Davy Jones, he took it now. Scully leaned into Stella’s chest as Mulder studied her features. He took in her weatherbeaten cheeks, the flaking tan on the bridge of her aquiline nose, the severity of her profile. Scully loved that face; it arced and peaked like the desolate landscapes she’d read about as a child. It wasn’t the most welcoming visage, but to watch Mulder shake Stella’s hand felt as though the heavens had lifted a rock from her shoulders.

“Thanks for saving our asses,” said Mulder at last, shoving his hands into his pockets. He’d relaxed visibly in the past few minutes. They all had, slowly settling back into their bodies in the aftermath of the battle.

Stella shot him a wan half-smile. “Being dead has its perks.”

“Are you really—” Mulder stopped himself, struggling to contain his curiosity. “Dead?” it came out as a whisper.

Stella opened her shirt hem again to reveal the scar where her heart used to be and the three white bullet holes above it. One white bullet hole lay to the side, from Scully’s gun. Stella’s father’s gun.

“I’m alive,” explained Stella nonchalantly, “but the thing keeping me that way is thumping in a wooden chest.”

His initial apprehension dissolved, Mulder stared at her like a child who’d just met the fae folk. Davy Jones was the sea’s greatest legend; Stella was every mystery and old wives’ tale Mulder had worked to prove true. Scully couldn’t call her the elusive Truth—she wouldn’t wish that title upon anyone, but she was evidence of something Mulder had spent fifteen years searching for.

A glint over Stella’s shoulder caught her attention. She snatched the scope from Mulder’s hands and held it up to her eye, scanning the shoreline. What she saw squeezed the breath from her chest. Governor Spender hauled his beaten body ashore, crawling onto the pearl-white sand. The chest of Davy Jones was tucked beneath his arm. She growled and pounded her fist on the rail.

“What is it?” asked Stella.

Scully passed her the telescope. “Speaking of your bloody beating heart.”

Stella lifted the scope to her eye. Scully saw the moment it dawned on Stella that her heart was no longer thumping beneath the sand. “Shit,” she spat. “Shit. Fuck. Of course that sorry bastard has the chest.” Her chest heaved as if there were still breath in it. She flicked her gaze between Mulder’s fidgeting fingers and Scully’s gnawing at her lip. Scully drew Stella’s slight body toward her, slipping her arms around her waist.

Scully had never viewed Stella as an affectionate person, someone she had the power to comfort with a touch. Stella Gibson was a solitary creature on the prow of a ship, and to simply hold her had felt like a disturbance of that picture. Now, she sailed over that boundary.

Mulder wrung his hands. “Who has the chest?”

“Spender does.” Scully handed him the telescope. “He’s alive; he made it to shore.”  

She tightened her scabbard and fetched her coat from the rail, where it was hanging to dry. The sleeves were stiff with salt and sand, the collar stained with her blood.

“Scully,” Stella laid a hand on her shoulder, “what are you doing?”

“I’m going after him.”

Stella’s fingers brushed the bandage over her eye. She could still smell the rum on it, where it dried and caked her skin. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t ask. I said I was going.” Scully opened up the back of the pistol and counted the ammunition. “Where do you keep your guns?”

“Scully, listen—”

“Where do you keep your pistols?”

“ Listen to me .”

Beside them, Mulder sucked in a breath and took two steps back.

“What good will it do to save that chest? I’m cursed. I’m dead.”

“I know that,” Scully said breathlessly. “I’ve known that from the night I met you. I came aboard this ship knowing its curse.”

Stella pressed her lips together. “Then you know it can’t be broken. I will not stop you going ashore; I would never stop you. But know this: if you re-bury my heart, or we take it with us upon the Dutchman, it will do you no good to have it. I will still be cursed. You’ll grow old and die by the laws of nature, and I’ll remain as I am now until someone takes up my mantle. Remember what I am before you endanger yourself. I am not human.”

“I know,” Scully rasped. She pressed her forehead to Stella’s and cupped Stella’s cold, bloodless cheek. “I didn’t chase the horizon because I thought I could catch it. I just liked waking up to the sight of it while I could.” She took a deep breath. “Now where are the bullets?”

Stella knit her eyebrows. “Bullets are in the desk in my cabin.”

Scully nodded and fetched a handful of bullets from Stella’s desk. Tucking them into the gun one by one, she tightened the holster over her chest and re-wrapped the bandage around her head. Then she put a clean bandanna over her forehead, holding back her sea-dried hair.

“Scully.” Stella stood at the door of the cabin. “Before you go, I have something for you.” She opened a second drawer in the desk and pulled out a strip of stiff scrap leather. “Come here.”

Scully stepped forward. Stella held the leather up to her face, overtop the makeshift bandage and gauze. “This will do nicely.” She stretched out the leather on her desk, and with her letter opener, carved it into a patch. Then she sliced two eyelash-thin strips of it. Scully watched her work—quickly, methodically, chewing on her lower lip. She hated that someone else had to guard her life. She had relied only on herself for so many years that Scully could only imagine how much she hated this helplessness.

When she was finished, she gently pushed the bandage from Scully’s eye with her thumb. Scully winced. “I’m sorry,” Stella murmured. She sucked in a breath when she saw the damage, and not for the first time, Scully was thankful not to have a mirror nearby. She could feel the swollen skin, the empty socket still stinging from rum and loss. By now, the sting was a fact of life that she ignored as best she could.

Stella cleaned the wound again with the liquor and a wet cloth, unfazed by the rawness of it. If she was horrified, she didn’t say. For a moment Scully had worried she’d be put off of it; then she remembered the three bullets Stella had pulled out of her chest.

“The final touch,” Stella said softly. She slipped the leather strap over Scully’s head and pressed the black patch over her eye. Then she leaned back on her heels and examined her work. A tiny smile poked at the corners of her lips. “It’s not perfect, but you wear it well.”

Scully felt the eye patch—uneven on the edges, a little worn, but a hell of a lot better than the loose cloth she’d been using. “Do I look dangerous?” she teased.

“You look a handsome sailor,” Stella replied.

Scully smiled and patted her pistol. “Aye, Cap’n.”

The Dutchman lurked close to shore as Stella and Scully readied the rowboat one more time. Night had settled into the bay, and more stars speckled in the sky than Scully had seen in her life. Stella had pointed them out to her, one by one—Orion off the port side and Leo on starboard, the planet Venus burning white-hot overhead. Mulder was standing on the quarterdeck with Stella’s spyglass, keeping an eye on the beach.

“It looks like Spender has gone into the woods,” he said. “He was looking fairly weak, so he can’t have gone far. With this sky, you’ll be able to see his footprints.” He pointed to the full moon, hanging like a baby’s mobile over the Moerae.

“Good,” said Scully, “I’ll catch up to him quickly.”

Mulder put down the spyglass. “You mean we’ll catch up to him quickly.”

Scully fixed him with a skeptical stare. “Mulder,” she chastised. “You were hostage until this afternoon.”

“So what?” he said, descending the staircase. “I’m no pirate, but you’ll need all the help you can get.”

Scully gazed at him. “Are you absolutely sure?” She wasn’t sure what answer she wanted to hear more. She wanted Mulder’s company more than anything, but she didn’t want him to risk his life for her quest. After all, Mulder had left her in Port Washington because he couldn’t bear harm to come to her for the sake of his own crusade. Yet where had that decision landed them?

“I came all this way to keep you out of trouble, Mulder.” Scully crossed her arms. “I don’t want you to regret risking your life again.”

“Christ, Scully.” Mulder clasped her shoulder. “I spent my life awash in old wives’ tales. Davy Jones has haunted me since I was only a child. If you’re going to fetch the heart of the Sea Devil, just try to leave me behind.”

“Mulder—”

“You love the Dutchman. You love the open sea and the life of a pirate. You love Stella too much to leave her heart behind, and I love you too much to let you go alone.”

She thinks of Stella slicing out her heart in the Ophelia’s rickety cabin. My father loved England. And I loved my father.

They loosened a rowboat, and the Dutchman held it aloft over the bay. Mulder stepped in.

As the boat lowered, Scully patted her pistol and gazed up at Stella. “Remember me well.”

“Don’t jest with me, Dana,” Stella said. She kissed Scully’s cheek. “Be well.”

Scully sucked in a breath. “And you, Captain.” She climbed over the wall, holding onto the detailing with one hand. Turning her eye to the stars, she let go.

She landed with a thump in the rowboat.

“What’s the plan?” he said. He was sitting on a cross-plank, turning his pistol over in his hand. Scully wondered if the Navy had ever taught him to use it.

“Ideally,” she said, “We threaten his life and he gives us the chest without a fight.”

“Yes, because that worked so well for us last time.”

Scully rolled her eyes. “Spender had a ship of armed men. Now, he’s alone.”

“What makes you think he’ll give?”

“Because he hasn’t cut her heart out by now,” Scully said coldly. “Stella is right about him—he only wants to blackmail her to do his bidding. If there’s no one else to back up his threat, he’s harmless. Look at the way he captured you—he hired a pirate to betray his Navy because he couldn’t bear to do it himself. He’s old, rich, and comfortable. A man like Spender doesn’t fight on a principle; he fights when he knows he’ll win. He takes as much as he can while it’s easy.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Spender would rather be a prisoner on the Dutchman than die trying to command it.”

She touched the pistol again, taking comfort in the smooth hilt—molded to her father’s hands over many years of use. Mulder was watching her, his limbs curled into his body. There were lines in his face she had never seen before, an expression she didn’t recognize.

“You know… no one wants to die, Scully.” It wasn’t until he said her name that she realized what it was, the expression he was wearing: fear.

She took a deep breath. “I know.”

“Do you?”

“Of course not,” she said quickly. “But—there are things that mean more to me than law and safety. My principles, my family…” she touched Mulder’s hand. “My friends.”

She studied him, this living face she hadn’t seen in weeks. She measured his features in the moonlight. His lower lip pushed out from his teeth like a puppy, or a young boy just getting his permanent teeth. His brow-line was perpetually worried, hanging over warm hounds’ eyes. He was at once far stronger and far weaker than her. He was a much more experienced sailor, but Scully had become something else altogether—a pirate.

“It’s funny,” he said. “All my life you’ve been the voice in my ear, telling me not to do anything foolish.”

“Are you saying that’s become your job?”

Mulder frowned. “I’m saying that if you wanted to do something foolish, I’m not sure I could stop you.”

The boat bucked in a wave, and Scully pitched forward. She gripped the wet rail as seawater sprayed her face. Mulder sputtered, snorting and shaking his head to get the water out of his nose. And Scully laughed, quietly at first, then shamelessly. Mulder joined in, a belly laugh she hadn’t heard since before he left Port Washington. He clutched his chest, his whole body bent in half and shaking uncontrollably. Scully’s lungs heaved, and a hiccup escaped her, which only made Mulder laugh harder.

They were still snickering when their boat bumped against the sand. The moon was high overhead, and the beach glowed a cold grey. She nearly expected the sand to feel like snow in her hand, but it was the same beach she’d crossed that morning. The treeline, under cover of night, was even more sinister, palm fronds dangling like fingers above the forest floor.

They followed the footprints Spender had left in the soft earth—the loping and limping tracks of a battered old man. Scully was confident they could outrun him. They hacked through bushes and vines rather than go around. They squeezed beneath roots as the trees turned from palms to monstrous oaks, thicker than she’d ever seen. They blotted out the stars, making the footprints nearly invisible. Still, strips of moonlight pierced the canopy like meat skewers, just enough to guide their way.

Then the trees vanished, as abruptly as waking from a dream. The woven roots gave way to granite, a stone desert dotted with scrub and cacti. On their right, the rock bent like a giant’s shoulders into massive cliffs. Even where she could standing, she could hear waves pound the bluff far below. She scanned the barren landscape. A silhouette stumbled through the plain.

“Mulder, look.” She pointed to the tiny figure. She started to run, always listening for the pound of his footsteps behind her.

As they approached Spender, their pace slowed. Scully constantly scanned the ground for dry scrub or gravel that would alert him to their approached. But Spender dragged on, hugging the precious box to his chest. His uniform was tattered, unbuttoned, scorched at the edges. The moon transformed his hair from grey to bone-white. He looked dead.

Once she reached a proper firing distance, Scully raised her pistol. “Stop.”

Spender froze. Slowly, he turned around. A bloody gash across his forehead muddled his face, giving him a half-eaten look. He was decaying before them, shrinking like pipe weed when it burns. He broke into a wheezing chuckle. “Fox Mulder and Dana Scully. How appropriate.”

Scully cocked the pistol. “Give us the box.”

“Why?”

“If you don’t, you’ll die.”

Spender was silent. He glanced between her and the vast expands of stone. He started to turn, and she realized—he didn’t think she would do it.

“Fuck you,” she snarled. She pulled the trigger. The bullet nicked the bottom of his loose sleeve. It wasn’t an accident—she was a better shot than that—but it had the desired effect. Spender’s eyes bugged like an insect. She noticed the tremble in his limbs. He knew the Dutchman was his only hope of escape. If he left, and Scully let him go, he would die on this island.

“Give up the chest, and we’ll take you back to Port Washington with us,” she said softly. “You’ll be a captive aboard an indomitable ship. You’ll be safe.”

Spender curled his lip. “And what about the Sea Devil?”

“She won’t kill an unarmed prisoner.”

“She’s a pirate,” he spat.

“And you have nothing to offer her. You’re disgraced. You have no gold, no land, no power.”

“Then why should I come with you? Why should I rot in jail with dogs and crooks?”

Scully curled her lip in a snarl. “Because without the Dutchman, you are doomed to wander this island until you die of heat exhaustion. Because even if you have the dagger, you couldn’t bear to stab that heart and take up Davy Jones’ mantle, utterly alone forever. You will live in prison, because you can’t live with yourself.”

Behind her, she heard Mulder take a step back.

Spender’s head hung off his neck like a vulture’s. He shivered. “Do you promise you’ll spare my life?”

Scully crossed her chest. “On my honor and the blood of Davy Jones.”

Spender put down the box. Then he reached into his coat and pulled out the dagger. The metal sang when it hit the ground. Mulder stepped forward and grasped Spender’s arms, tying them behind his back. Scully picked up the box.

It was heavier than she expected. It was made of iron and damp, dark wood. It was frigid under her fingertips. She could hear a rhythmic thump-thump inside that she tried to ignore. On the lid was an inscription.

“Ye dead man’s fingers never touch the Dutchman’s heart,” Scully read aloud. It chilled her.

Mulder held Spender by his wrists. “Let’s go, Scully.”

She glanced at the sky—clouds had begun to gather, not yet obscuring the moon, but harboring a coming storm. “You’re right. Let’s get back to—”

A gunshot. Scully dropped to a crouch. Spender crumpled in Mulder’s grip, choking and blathering. His body thumped against the earth.

She looked over Mulder’s shoulder. A man of about thirty was clinging to the edge of the cliff, his torso hauled over the side. He had friendly features that seemed to have thinned over time, taken on a rat-like quality. His eyes were fierce and cruel. This, Scully knew in an instant, was Captain Spector.

“Down with the heart,” he ordered, pointing his pistol at her. “Come on.”

Mulder cocked his pistol. “Two against one. Are you sure Stella’s heart is worth your life?”

A wicked smile crossed Spector’s lips. “Oh, you know her by name? Stroppy Stella, the great lady buccaneer. The great Davy Jones.” He sneered. “It’s only a name. What’s there to fear in a name?”

“You’re not convincing me,” Scully snapped.

“All right then,” Spector said, almost chipper. “Why don’t we settle this like gentleman? With a duel, for the dead lady’s heart. You and me, Miss Scully. After all, she’d give her heart to you freely, if you asked for it.”

“Scully—” Mulder started.

Scully held out her hand. “I accept.”

At the same time, they holstered their guns. Scully dropped the chest beside Mulder.

“What are you doing?” he hissed.

Scully fixed him with the sharp gaze of one eye. “What I know how to do.”

She drew her sword. It wasn’t Stella’s father’s sword anymore—that was in the wreckage of the Claudius. But it belonged to the Dutchman, and she hoped it would lend her good luck.

Spector attacked first. She parried his strike and moved to stab at his knee, but he was quicker than she expected. He backed her toward the tree line, but she regained the ground when he briefly lost his footing. Back and forth they carried on.

She tried twice to disarm him but found him prepared for the blow. Spector had been training for longer than she had. Still, she heard her father’s voice in her head: strike; parry; lunge; watch your footwork. Always strike where he least expects it.

She caught him in the foot, and he yowled, but he blocked her next blow easily. The injury slowed him though, and soon she was gaining ground. His moves became more and more desperate. She blocked, expecting to disarm him with the next strike.

Then he reached for his pistol. She ducked before the shot went off, but the damage was done—she was on the ground. She felt Spector’s boot on her shoulder, shoving her onto her back. His sword point was at her throat, his gun at her forehead.

“No!” Mulder shouted. He aimed his own pistol at Spector, and Scully squeezed her eye shut, expecting at any second for a bullet to enter her head.

Bang. Bang. Bang. Three shots. She felt nothing. Tentatively, she opened her eye. Blood dribbled from Spector’s chest and forehead. His eyes wide with terror, he stumbled backwards. He used his last living breath to stare, glazed and shock-stricken at the person who shot him.

Stella.

[imagine-that-one-thing]

Styles & Co. || Chapter 21.

Authors Note: Hey, everyone! Here is the chapter, I hope you all appreciate it as much as I have relished writing this fanfic.

Rated M for Mature audiences: May contain, violence, sexual content and/or strong language. Don’t forget the other links: Can also be fund on WattPad, HERE Previous parts found HERE  You can find my blurb Master list HERE 

                                        ||Until Death Does Us Part.||

The honeymoon was amazing, we spent most our time relaxing on the beach with a new alcoholic beverage each time, trying new foods and restaurants, and we weren't doing these things, we were making love in our hotel room, it seems as though we could never get enough of each other.

Harry hurries around me as he hastens to button up his shirt, my feet sliding into my heels while we both get ready. While on our honeymoon I didn't miss this, the early mornings, the rush, and working.

"Harry," I try to seize his attention, my hand smoothing against his arm. He stops his rushed motions for a moment, taking a second to breathe and gaze at me.

"Sorry, darling, good morning, I love you." He mumbles, giving me a half-assed kiss as he forces his hands to tie his tie,

"Harry, I'm late." I sigh,

"Me too, love. I'm so fucking late for this meeting." He murmurs, brushing past me as he reaches for his cologne, "happy one month, I have dinner organised, I love you." He staggers over his feet, rushing to get himself together before he's pressing a kiss to my lips,

"Happy one month, I love you too," I respond before his hands seize the keys from the bed and he urges out of the room.

I lament as I rest at the table Harry made reservations for, he was meant to be here twenty minutes ago. I gawk at the other tables accompanied by other couples appreciating wine and their dinner, meanwhile, I sit here on my own, probably looking as though I was stood up, dismally, this is not my first time Harry has stood me up.

I let out a sigh, attempting to keep myself occupied by observing the little impressions about the admirable restaurant, it possess such a warm and romantic characteristic, the tables each have a traditional white candle lit in the middle of it, setting the romantic inflexion. I watch as the content couple across from me quietly chuckle while smiling at each other over a glass of wine, something Harry and I should be doing, but, here I am on our one month wedding anniversary, sitting alone and jealous of the other couples. I guess, I shouldn’t complain too much, he did give me just over three weeks of his undivided attention on our honeymoon, most the time, except for the times late at night when he would make a few calls back to Niall and Anastasia to make sure the business is still alive and not burning to the ground.  

I try his phone once again, my eyes staring at the texts I've already sent him:

"Hey! I'm on my way to the restaurant, I love you."

"Hey, sorry sweetheart, I'm going to be a tad late, I'm held up. I'll be there by seven-fifteen, promise. I love you. Xx -CEO. Styles.& Co -Harry"

"Hey, are you on your way? It's seven-thirty and I'm just sitting here. X"

"Harry? I'm not sure if your meeting has gone longer than expected, but I'm kinda worried."

"Harry, it's eight..."

"Should I be worried? I can't get ahold of you and I'm starting to panic a little bit..."

"Well, Anastasia said you left at seven-twenty, I'm assuming you forgot about dinner or you're still busy with work... either way, I'm about to go home, I'll see you there, I guess."

I graciously gesture for the waiter that has generously served me the last hour or so, keeping me refreshed with drinks and somewhat entertained. He gives me a warm smile, "Is Harry on his way?" He questions and I shake my head, unfortunately, Harry is currently, MIA.

"He got stuck at work, I'm sorry for your trouble," I inform him, clutching my wallet to pay for the beverage and the kind services.

I lament and look up, noticing a familiar face within the small restaurant, my eyes not recognising the appearance until he shuffles closer. I'm astounded when I observe Logan waltzing his way around the tables, halting when he gets to my own as I stand up. What he is doing here, I have no damn idea, he manages to pop up at inconvenient times, sometimes I wonder if he does it just to try piss Harry off, but the jokes on him tonight, Harry isn’t even here.

I cock my head to the side, looking Logan up down as he chews on his bottom lip, "Logan, what are you doing?" I challenge, sliding my jacket up my arms and bringing it to my front.

"I need you to come with me," his voice is hushed and soft sounding as he speaks, so delicate that it puts me on edge and sends shivers down my back. Ever since I found the files months ago, I have been on edge about him, and I am always sceptical, he always just leaves me with a bitter taste and sickening feeling when he shows up unannounced… I am not quite sure why I still work for him, I guess I am still trying to make sure he doesn’t pull any moves to jeopardise Harry’s company.

"Logan, if this is about work, I really just want to get home," I breathe, not in the mood to be his assistant for the night.

He shakes his head, his nystagmic eyes that miss nothing scanning the room and flicking towards the entrance. "I need you to come with me, it's not work." He instructs, the look in his eyes drawing me to trust him for a moment, it's not like I have anything to lose.

I step outside into the warm air of the June evening, everything around me seeming obscure and gloomy despite the sun beaming, a grave awareness and consciousness casting itself around me. Logan caresses his hand to my back as he guides me towards a blacked out car, one of which I have not before seen, I can only assume it is one of his many private vehicles he uses with a chauffeur.

I slide in and get comfortable between the leather seats, my eyes studying towards Logan as he sits beside me, squaring an ankle over one knee. I frown for a moment, taking note of his lip quivering as his eyes stay focused on his fingers tangling themselves with each other.

"Logan?" I challenge, unsure of why he seems to be apprehensive.

He takes in a deep breathe before he exhales, "Elise, sweetheart" he begins, enunciating precisely like Harry as he subsequently lifts his eyes to meet mine, "what I'm about to tell you... I uh.. I'm going to need you to stay calm, okay?" He discloses in a delicate tone, one of which disturbs me. I give him a nod. "Elise, there was an accident." The words roll off his lips and startle me, every ounce of my body becomes stiff and frozen, the air becoming sucked out of my lungs as I stare at Logan. I sense everything in my body become paralyzed, my head surging with various thoughts and feelings. I attempt to open my mouth, but nothing comes out.

Logan presses his hand to my knee in an attempt to console me, “Elle-”

“Elise,” I bitterly correct him, he knows better than anyone that only Harry’s lips are to utter ‘Elle.’

Logan nods and clears his throat, “Sorry, Elise… There was an accident, before we get to the hospital I am going to tell you, it doesn’t look good.” … “He was just leaving his office, on his way to you and that’s when it happened…” Logan informs me, piercing my heart as I come to terms with what he is telling me.

Until death does us part— Vows that I didn’t think I would have to think about so soon within our marriage— Vows that I didn’t ever want to have to think about. When we said those words, I was hopeful that the death do us part would be in fifty years time when we are both senile, grey, and cantankerous old people who are still madly in love with their last few breaths. I had always hoped I’d be the first to go, only because a day without him is a day not worth living. I would rather go through a hundred deaths than to bear witness to living this life without him, dramatic that may sound, but it is true. I can’t help but bow my head and pray that what Logan is saying is not as critical as it seems.

With long paces, I make my way down the white, calm, hallways, doing my best to stay as neutral as my surroundings. But the second I reach the door, the opening that holds the outcome of my future, I am tenderly shifted back by a nurse who offers me a tender smile in an attempt to ease the pain that is striking through my body like a lightning bolt wanting to cause harm.

Logan's hands benevolently draw me away, his voice whispering in my ear but I can’t make out what the hell he is saying, all I comprehend is white walls and a door that I desperately need to get through. I need to know he is okay and that the man I married a month ago isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. I attempt to battle Logan, not wanting his hands to stop me from what prevails behind the entrance, all I want is him, Harry. I want to go back to the time when things were flawlessly okay when this reality was not a damn existence. I clamp my fingers into his tender flesh wanting to inflict pain on Logan in attempt to extinguish my own pain.

I shake my head with tear stained cheeks, everything feeling as though it is some unpropitious nightmare that I can’t wake up from, “L-Logan, he has to be okay,” the words tumble from my lips and it appears like it’s my only way to breathe. “He has to be, I-I can’t, he can’t leave me. He is.. He is.. Everything,” I stammer, breathing becoming something that I seem to not know how to do. Everything appears hazy around me, all I perceive are the white walls and the fluorescent lights as my chest rises inconsistently. I feel as though I am in a dream where my legs are tangled and can’t operate, where everything is closing in on me, and where everything is rotating around me.”Logan,” I whisper as my body shakes and everything washes over me in a terribly powerful way. His arm curls around my waist, tugging me next to him in a  possessive, and protective way.

                                                || Day Seven. ||

Time goes by gradually when remaining in a hospital room, a room that feels so dismal and hollow.

I find it hard to keep my eyes on him, a body I once stared at intently is now coated with covers, the lips I used to kiss are cold and dull, his hand that used to caress my cheeks, my hair, and my body— is soft to the touch but limp and lifeless. Every time I enable the tips of my fingers to caress his skin, or for my fingers to wrap around his hand, shivers are sent through my body, a coldness that I have never once had to welcome with every touch.

His body used to be so warm and tender to the touch, it used to ignite butterflies in my stomach, send a sense of security to overcome my body. Now, now his touch leaves me feeling helpless and fragile.

I'm alive and I feel like I am hardly breathing, my world is circling around me, my eyes staring at him as everyone around me uniformly wanders in and out.

I overhear the door open and I sigh, acknowledging that it isn't the routine nurse coming in to administer more meds, she has already done her hourly check.

"Ms?" an unfamiliar voice takes my attention, my eyes peering over towards an elderly man standing at the door, "I don't mean to startle you, may I come in?" He softly challenges, and I nod, permitting him to step into the room that feels so hollow and lifeless. "I have a croissant and a green tea." He smiles walking closer and handing me a small paper bag and a warm cup. For a moment, I stare at him, unable to find the words to say to him.

"Thank you." I delicately take the items, "That's very sweet of you." I stutter. A simple thank you is not enough to show my appreciation, but I don't have many concepts to form a sentence with. Speaking and understanding my thoughts have become a gravely complex responsibility. "It's going to be okay." He inspirits me as I sit back down in my chair, taking a taste of the tea. I give him a tiny smile, feeling a little better about myself with the tea warming me up, physically and metaphorically.

"The tea is lovely, thank you. How'd you know I'd like Green tea?" I question, unsure of why a coffee was not the option.

Everyone keeps fetching me coffee— the coffee just gets wasted since I can't drink it.

The unexplained man again gives me a soft smile accompanied by a shrug,

"My wife, she liked Green Tea and croissants, something told me to get her favourite instead of a coffee." He informs me, seeming to be at ease and in a pleasant mood without seeming too lively.

He seems like such a sweet man, a man that has seen various years of life and is still blissful and appreciative of every minute. "That is sweet of you." I give him the best smile I can for the moment.

He accepts my attempt of a smile and casts his coffee-coloured eyes towards Harry, they soften and he just stares at him for a moment.

He turns to me, his eyes back to focusing on me as I take another sip of the comforting tea, "The young fella, is he your boyfriend, dear?" He softly questions.

"Husband." I breathe, the word burning my lips as I take a swift glance over at Harry still lying in the bed.

The man can't help but smile widely, his eyes twinkling in the moment, something tells me he is lost in a blissful memory he shared with his love. "Ah, young love. How long?"

"Together six years, since I was nineteen; we have been married a month," I answer the man, positively savouring the glow he has in his eyes. It is a beam I have never seen before casted in someone's eyes, it is almost as if his orbs are glistening the brightest they have ever been.

"I was married at nineteen," ... "Been married to my wife for fifty years... You're going to be okay, so is he." He smiles over at Harry, something about the man appears to polish the room in a bright luminosity, a feeling of prosperity draping over the dullness, and hope painting the walls

"I hope so, everyone around me is already preparing for the worst," I whisper, feeling my own heart shattering as I vocalise the words out loud, the words that have been gnawing away at me for the last few hours. They have been like a poison, gradually weakening my body, at first, it is unknown and withdrawn, but the words and loss of hope kept getting more and more dangerous and toxic with every passing minute. The thought of everyone giving up is like a dagger to my heart.

"He's going to be fine, hang in there."

"How are you so optimistic?"

He gently presses his warm hand to my arm, "Because, sweetheart, love never dies." He responds with his typical smile, his hand gradually leaving my arm before he walks out of the room, leaving me with my warm tea, a croissant, a little hope, and my husband.

The man gave an angelic feel to the room that felt so dead, he just had an affect that blossomed and transformed the room and the mood.

I don't know what he did, I don't know how he did it, but he did. He casted a rich presence, an ethereal feel, a saving grace that is humming through my veins with every breath I inhale.

                                                  || Day Ten. ||

Addilyn's gracious smile permeates the room the moment I catch her heels echoing against the flooring. I glance up and I manage to express a small smile to greet her.

"Hey, I come bearing gifts." She expresses as she places a plastic bag on the small table beside me,

"Hey. Please tell me you did not bring coffee." I sigh, praying that I do not need to smell the sweet brewing scent of coffee.

"No." She chuckles, "I know better, I got you some waters, snuck some Chinese food in, paid the nurse £50 to turn a blind eye." She chuckles, already taking out two Chinese boxes,

"I'm really not hungry." .. "Mum and Dad already tried," I inform her,

"You need to eat, and get some sugar in you." She nudges the can of coke towards me, her eyes narrowing on me as she stops digging her hands through the plastic bag, "Elise, drink it before I force you too." She sternly presses, a sigh escaping my lips as I give in.

"Yes, Mum," I mumble teasingly, a small chuckle flying my lips, "Beef Lo Mein, with extra beef?" I grin, and she nods, "Did you get dumplings and Chicken egg rolls?"

"Yes, Elise. I asked them to give me the order Harry.." She pauses for a moment, almost as if she is too scared to say his name in front of me. I roll my eyes playfully,

"You can say his name, I am not going to break down and cry." I inform her with a faked smile, the truth is, hearing his name doesn't break me down and cause me to cry, at least, not anymore. Sometimes catching his name fills me with a little bit of pleasure.

She nods and continues, "I asked them for the order Harry always gets, does he buy this just for you?" She questions, gesturing towards the food beside us.

I smile, nodding my head, "The Chinese place makes a killin' off of us, one night he brought half the menu for me because I couldn't decide what I wanted." ... "He's good like that." I smile, looking over at him as he continues to lie in the bed while I force myself to eat the food Addilyn got for me, embracing the sweet comments and her company.

"No new news?" She challenges, her eyes delicately falling to Harry. With a heavy heart, I shake my head. They say that no news is good news, but I am beginning to wonder whether the saying is true or not.

                                           || Day Eleven. ||

I have gotten used to the regular sound of machines and the buzzing hallways' of the hospital. Every now and again I have roamed the halls' in an attempt to get my mind off things. I don't know whether it is just me, but I feel like everyone is giving up hope, almost as if they want me to just give up and start planning the flowers and the arrangements. I don't have it in me to even think about that sort of thing, he is still here, and that is what I am holding onto. As I pass different floor's of the hospital, I am overwhelmed with various feelings, from sadness to prosperity, to a feeling of calmness, the calmness circling around me when I make it to the paediatrics hallway, my eyes never failing to scan the flawlessly swaddled babies in pink and blue.

I am distracted by a voice, pulling me away from my gaze, "Which one is yours?" A lovely woman smiles at me, standing beside me before she sets her own eyes on the babies.

I shake my head, "Oh, uh, I am just walking around." I softly respond, "Which is yours?" I challenge,

She smiles widely, pointing to a baby, "That's my little girl." The tone of her voice is full of nothing but pride and joy, something that I hope to one day experience and feel.

"Aw, so sweet. Is she your first?"

The woman chuckles, "Oh no, I have three boys, she is my last though." She responds, "truly the best things to happen to me.” She smiles before walking away, leaving me to stare in awe at the babies behind the glass. I smile to myself before I flash back to one night of the honeymoon.

I spread across the large King size bed that smells of fresh linens and a touch of vanilla. I make myself comfortable and smile to myself, the faint hums of Harry's voice slipping through the walls of the bathroom. Like I have said before, it is on rare occasions I get to hear his soft voice in a harmonious way, but every time I do, I cherish it greatly.

"Hey, Elle?" Harry flashes me an affectionate smile as he exits the bathroom, nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants hanging from his hips, his hair hanging messily. I gesture for him to continue what he's probably about to ask me as I get comfortable between the comfort of the sheets. It's the first night we have managed to get to bed without making a mess of the sheets. "How do you feel about kids?" He asks as he works his towel through his hair to roughly dry it. "Darling, if this is your way of trying to have sex, we agreed we were having a night off," I snicker as he stands at the foot of the bed, playfully rolling his shining eyes at me. He shakes his head, "no, I know... I mean... have you thought about us having a baby?" He asks, catching me off guard. I haven't really thought about babies, I have had my head too far into wedding planning and work to be thinking about our future family. "No, why?" I cock my head to the side, a little worried about what he's going to say. I don't think I'm ready to try for a baby right in this moment. "I saw you eyeing the baby at dinner... was jus' wondering." He informs me. I frown for a moment thinking back to dinner. I wouldn’t say I was eyeing the baby, but I was acknowledging that he was pretty adorable with his bug-eyed eyes that shined a beautiful shade of light blue. I look towards Harry, his hand throwing his towel towards the corner, giving me a smirk as he knows that exact thing irritates me, but I shrug it off for a second. "Harry, are you trying to tell me something? Are you wanting a family?" I question, unsure of whether he is trying to hint something at me or if this is a general conversation sparked by an observation. He rubs the back of his back before shrugging his shoulders, "I uh... I do.. but not right now. Now that we are married I think it's something that I'd like to have on the table. So maybe in some time? Right now I'm about to be head first with work." He answers with a small grin hanging in the corner of his lips. For a moment I think about what he is saying, the question dangling over my head as I wonder whether I truly want to have kids, not in a selfish sort of way, but I don’t think I do. "I think it's something to have on the table and to think more about while we wait,” I respond, not entirely shooting down the idea, but not talking it up either. He stares at me with those bewitching eyes and that crooked, cheeky grin that I have fallen for so many damn times. "Elle... let's have a baby," the words roll off his tongue so effortlessly and sweetly. I snicker, "We said we were waiting.”

"Forget what we just said," I inhale a deep breath and blow out slowly, "Harry," I sigh, "that's very impulsive of you," He nods, "If you don't want to it's okay, but fuck what I said with waiting, we aren't getting younger." He points out, only causing me to roll my eyes.

He crawls his way onto the bed, lying himself down beside me and resting his cheek in his hand as he looks at me, “You’re twenty-seven, you’re not old if that is what you’re worried about.”

“Mhm, but the little swimmers aren’t going to hang around forever,”

“Oh, hush,” I giggle, “You’re an idiot. You’re twenty-seven, not forty-seven, you’re not an old bloody man, yet.” I inform him before letting a small squeak when he moves and pulls me on top of him. I press my hands to his chest as I glance down at him.

“You laughing at me?” he asks, one arm wrapping around me as he uses his other hand to brush parts of my fallen hair behind my ear.

I lean down and kiss him lightly, “Me? Laugh at you? Never, darling.” I whisper against the taste of his lips, trying not to give into the strong desire tingling inside me to deepen the kiss...

                                                || Day Twelve. ||

I feel my eyes continually desire to close as I sit uncomfortably in the hospital chair, the chair having no sympathy on my back or the rest of my body for that matter.

My eyes have stopped producing salty tears, they sting with every blink, my cheeks have tear stains down them are I don't even care. I have probably cried enough for both Harry and me.

They always tell people to embrace life and what you have, to cherish every single moment, both good and bad, because one day, it will all be nothing but a memory replaying in your head.

Right now, my worst moments seem to all be insignificant, they, in fact, were not my worst moments of life. My gravest moment is lying in front of me, not knowing whether he is going to wake up or not, it is terrifying.

I would do anything to have him shouting at me because of some ridiculous fucking thing; I would do anything to overhear his laugh, see his smile, or even witness the brilliance of his eyes that I admire. I want to hear his voice, even if it is because he is pissed off and ready to throw pillows at me because I am so frustrating at times. I would do anything for him to tell me he loves me again, for him to steal the last piece of my food and chuckle to himself while I pout my lips. I would do anything to walk into his office and see him perched over his desk, worrying himself over a business thing. I would take our full-grown fight over sitting here without knowing whether he will ever breathe a word to me again. For what feels like the hundredth time, I flash back to yet another moment we once shared.

“Harry,” I distract him from the television his eyes have been glued to for the last few hours.

“Yeah, yeah, I will be at family breakfast,” he mumbles, trying to shoo me away as he kept eye contact but his gaze became glazed

I roll my eyes, somewhat irritated that he still thinks I am talking about the family breakfast in the morning before we have to make the drive back to London. “The file is missing,” I notify him, his head snapping towards me, his eyes glowering at me with a sinister shadow behind them, swiftly narrowing to crinkled slits.

“What file, Elise?” His voice is sharp while his brows bump together in a scowl.

“The one I stole from Logan,” I softly inform him, waiting for him to blow up with rage and fury at the information. He grits his teeth, irritation humming through his veins while he holds back his comments and opinions for a moment.

He inhales a sharp breath before his words slip off the edge of his lips. “Damn it, Elle. I told you to put it back!”

“Yelling at me won’t fix it. I didn’t want to do this in the first place,”

He blows out his cheeks with a huff, “We all have to do things we don’t want to do, Elise. Where did you put it?” He questions, refusing to keep adequate eye contact with me.

“It was in my bag,” I gesture towards my bag sitting up on the table,

“It is probably at the house, why would you bring it here?”

“I didn’t have time to put it somewhere safe, Logan had been on my ass. I didn’t see you putting it back.” I point out, raising a brow as he attempts to condemn this undividedly on me.

Undermining my boss to keep my boyfriend content isn’t something I had strived to complete.

I shift from one foot to the other, attempting to stop myself from producing a consequential argument out of this, “I’m not the one that stole it,” I keep my voice hushed but defensive enough to prove my point.

He has nerve trying to spin this on me, if I had things my way, the file would never have departed Logan’s office, but I sacrificed my own wishes to keep Harry untroubled and at peace. “You’re the one that made me,” I cross my arms over my chest, my eyes staring at him with abhorrence.

He rakes his fingers through his hair, exhaling intensely, “Okay, I will figure it all out,”

“What are we going to do?”

He shakes his head with a grunt escaping his edges, disapproval evident from his lips, “Nothing, you have done enough,” his words bitter to the taste.

I slump my shoulders and look down, a little hurt by his comment, but I shrug it off and lift my head, “I am going to bed, I will see you at breakfast,” I mutter, stepping in front of him to make my way towards the door of his room.

I abruptly feel his arms envelope my body, halting me from wandering further, “Uh-ah, come here.” He gingerly draws me towards him, “This is probably why they say not to mix business with pleasure,” he chuckles, doing his best to shed light on our short dispute. “Listen,” he carefully pulls me to sit in his lap, his lips pressing to my cheek, “I know I am an ass, I think you’re used to it by now.. But, even when you fuck up, no matter how annoyed I get, don’t take it to heart.”

“That is a sudden change of heart,” I mumble,

“Mhm, I know you just sought to help me, and it shouldn’t take seeing you disheartened and ready to go sleep in the other room for me to realise. I’m sorry for my comment… WE will figure this out,”

I rest on his chest as I feel his fingers running through my hair, “We?” I question,

“Yeah, we. We are in this together, if I go down, you’re coming with me, darlin’.” He trails off with a chuckle, seeming lighthearted with his ending statement.

I roll my eyes, “You’re not going to go down, Styles,” I remove myself away from his chest, his hand dropping to rest on my thigh.

“Mhm, we will figure it out. Wherever the file is, we will find it. For now, let’s enjoy the last night on this mini vacation… Wanna break the rules again and sleep in here?” He offers, already knowing the answer to his own question.

The ludicrous dictate about us having separate rooms is nothing but a pain in my ass. I attempted to keep to the rules the first night, but I couldn’t help but discover myself crawling into his bed in the middle of the night.

I pull myself away from the flashback, wishing I could hear him yelling at me again, I’d do anything for him to be okay, even if it meant having him yell at me for small things. Back then we thought our arguments were hard to get through sometimes, but this, this by far is the worst thing I have had to go through, not knowing whether my husband is going to wake up or not.

My eyes divert their attention towards the door as I hear it open, I tiredly stand to my feet as a man steps in, dressed in a fine suit and tie.

"Ms.Elise?" He softly questions as he glances at me, I nod, not bothering to say a word. I am not really in the mood to talk to anyone, I barely want to stand up and pretend to care about what anyone has to say to me.

He flashes me a soft smile, his eyes flickering towards Harry for a brief moment, his expression making it known he is a little lost for words. He clears his throat and holds a

"This is yours." His silvery voice being the first that has directly spoken to me today.

My shaky hands take the envelope, my fingers wrapping around the edge while I look down at it, "What's this?" my voice sounds brittle, even to me as I do my best to keep it calm. The man does not answer, so I take it upon myself to open the envelope, pulling out a piece of paper, a paper I had hoped I would never see.

LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT OF HARRY STYLES

I, Harry Styles, presently of London, England, hereby revoke all former testamentary dispositions made by me and declare this to be my last Will.

PRELIMINARY DECLARATIONS

Prior Wills and Codicils

1. I revoke all prior Wills and Codicils.

Marital Status

Before I can keep reading the rest of the Will, I shake my head and calmly place it back in its place, handing it back to the man. The paper physically making me want to be sick.

My brows bump together in a scowl, disapproving of what is in front of me. "Elise-" He begins but I cut him off,

"I shouldn't be seeing this, he is still alive." I do my best to get my words out as they slowly choke up in my throat, threatening to force tears to cascade from my already exhaustedly drained eyes.

"In the case of an event like this, Mr.Styles requested that on the twelfth day, you receive this document."

I curl my lips with icy contempt, "No." I croak, struggling to keep myself composed.

"Everything you will need to know is in the envelope. He appointed you his executor; everything is left to you, the estates, everything, including his business, he left instructions for the business."

"I don't care if he has a whole kingdom left for me; he is alive."

Harrys lawer nods, placing the file down on the chair as he takes a breath. "I am sorry, Elise. I am." He whispers, promptly walking out like nothing ever happened.

I collapse in a stupor back into the chair by the bed, tears falling from my glossy eyes, staining my cheeks and making me even more tired. For a few moments, I stare at the wall, unsure of what the hell I am meant to do.

I lean forward and take Harry's hand, holding it with mine, taking in a breath as I feel his hand on mine. I feel shivers travel down my body as I have a flashback of the times I would hold his hand. I can feel the sensation taking over my body with every memory of holding his hand overcomes me.

"You know, I never thought I would see your will, I had always hoped I would not need to. I don't know where I am going with this, so I am going to babble and you are going to listen." I lean closer to his bed, kissing his hand as it is in mine. I close my eyes, pressing his hand to my lips and leaving it there for a moment. "I love you, I have told you that every day you have been in here, and basically every day since we started getting serious all those years ago. I'd give up everything to have you with me, I would do anything, anything, I promise. You need to wake up. I know I sound selfish and I am hard to deal with sometimes, I am sorry for all the times I was self-centred or the times I was difficult, or the times we fought because of me. I am sorry, Harry.... Please, darling, know I love you and I need you, you were everything I asked for in life; you are everything to me. I don't care about the money, the estates, actually, speaking of which, since when have we had more than one estate? You, my darling are still a fucking mystery. But, we can come back to that later... I don't fucking care if we are broke for the rest of our lives, I just want you, nothing else.... When we said ‘until death does us part,’ I didn’t intend to have to face this entity so quick, you know you mean more to me than anything anyone could possibly imagine. I have loved and I have lost, and by far this moment is the worst loss I feel I am ever going to face. I know you’re hurting, I know there is a better place that’ll put you at ease and free you of the pain you’re going through, and I selfishly hope you don’t have to go there no matter how bright it may be, at least not until we get to live our happily ever after. I have never known you to give up, hell you wouldn’t give up the first time I refused to go on a date with you, you were determined and persistent, Harry, you’re a fighter and so help me if you don’t fight like hell to get through this, I know you can. I, of all people, know what you’re capable of. I promise I will do anything if you fight like hell to come back to me, anything...Oh, what I’d give for you to open those sumptuous grey eyes and stare at me with that crooked, cheeky grin. I’d do anything for your hands to be nice and warm again, for your hands to stroke my hair while I fall asleep. I’d do anything to hear your voice and your muffled laugh. I love you more than anything, I think you know that by now. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, I’d willingly take your place if it meant you wouldn’t be pained by the events that have happened... I'm going to be selfish one last time and get this off my chest.... I need you, I am pregnant and I can't-do it alone, okay? You can't leave us here, you just can't."

Nothing in life is for certain, the flowers will wither, the storms will cross, just like the sun will become eclipsed—the stars will align before dimming and fading to dust— Nothing stays the same, everything withers and comes to an end, but love; love never dies.

Harry has told me many things, but the one constantly playing in my head in the dead of the moment is, ' Even when you think you have it all— you don't.'  Little did he know, he was incredibly right.

                                                      The End.

[artificialqueens]

Katya (Trixya) pt 2/? - Skyline

AN: And we’re back with a new chapter! Thank you guys so much for the likes and asks, I really appreciate it :) Hope everyone had a fun NYE and New Years Day! For anyone asking about that Trixya NYE fic I wrote a month or so ago, Uhm I’m not sure If I should continue it? If anyone has any good ideas or suggestions for it let me know and hopefully I can come up with a few more chapters of it :P Anyways just a few clarifications before you read, the Dan in this chapter is not Danny from the First chapter. This Dan is Milk out of drag which is his real name so sorry for any confusion. And Katya’s husband will be none other than Bianca out of Drag (Roy) so there’s that too. Lots of drag queens will be mentioned in this Fic, most of them out of drag because theres only serveral woman roles in the movie. But if you know most of the Queens’ real names then you’ll be able to tell whose who. Also this might turn out a bit longer than expected because translating this movie into an actual piece of writing is taking a lot longer than I thought so yay for long chaptered fics! Any feedback will fuel my motivation to write so please leave some of your thoughts, crutiques and compliments if you like the fic :) Hope you all enjoy! Again feedback is loved and appreciated <3 - Skyline

Summary: Lesbian Trixya AU based off the incredible movie Carol, set in New York during the 50’s. Katya, a mother struggling through a messy divorce meets young, inexperienced Trixie at a department store and they hit it off.

             Trixie’s smile faded shortly after the older blonde was out of sight. Her gaze lingered as her mind swam with new thoughts and feelings she’d never experienced before. Attraction. To another woman? She suddenly felt almost wrong for having these very forward, risque thoughts. She immediately turned her attention to the store’s delivery reciept for her order. What was her name anyway? She thought, looking at the small slip of paper, scanning for the name. Hm. Katya. It was oddly fitting for the grand woman who grabbed ahold of her undivided attention just moments ago. She turned to place the reciept with all the others. Turning back towards all the chaos, her eyes honed in on the eccentric pair of red gloves Katya had left behind on the front counter. Oh no…                                                  ………………….

          Her shift was over. Boy had it been a long day. She headed towards the lockers as the alarm bells signifying the end of the work period rang powerfully through the store. She swung open her locker and stood there, eyes shut, waiting for the obnoxious blare of the ringing to stop. She opened her eyes as it stopped and snatched her santa hat off her now frizzy blonde hair and tossed it into the small square locker. At last she was free.                                                  …………………..

             Trixie sat on Matt’s lap, leaning her head on his shoulder as one of the newest films from hollywood played on the screen well a ways ahead of them. Jay, the reason they’re here in the projector room watching the film for free in the first place, glanced down at Dan with an annoyed expression on his face. Dan and Jay were brothers and Matt’s long-time Childhood friends. Jay worked at the Cinema, which was great for free unlimited movie watching. (If you liked watching movies from the small cramped projector room above the actual theater.) And Dan was an aspiring journalist who worked for the New York Times. He stared intently at the film, jotting down some notes, not noticing his head covering half the opening on the wall in front of them. “Move over! Nobody else can see the screen.” Jay nagged at Dan, cigarette hanging from his lips, to which Matt added, “Nobody else is watchin’!”

             He playfully squeezed Trixie’s sides causing a small gasp to escape her mouth along with a quick, “I’m watching!” She turned her attention back to the screen. Matt just laughed and snuggled closer into Trixie’s neck, placing small kisses to it through her hair. Dan spoke up, admitting it was his sixth time seeing the film. “Right now I’m charting the correlation between what the characters actually say and how they really feel.” Trixie just smiled and nodded pretending like she understood the words coming out of his mouth. Jay turned to them with an unamused stare, still puffing on his half-gone cigarette. “My kid brother, the movie jerk.” He smirked while Trixie and Matt chuckled, but stopped short not wanting to hurt Dan’s feelings. Behind her, Matt kept messing with her hair provoking Trixie to lightly elbow him in the arm. She could never pay attention when Matt was around distracting her. And as of late she couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing.                                          ……………………..

                "I’m strictly a beer man, everything else makes me wanna vomit.“ Dan rambled on as the four of them sat at the bar in a dimly lit restaraunt down the street. Trixie giggled feeling the effects of the alcohol already, causing her to have little to no filter. "Well, wine makes me feel naughty, but in a good way.” She added not realizing her boldness before it left her red wine stained lips. Dan smiled widely at her as Matt went on about how he drinks to forget he has to get up for work in the morning. “Now see, thats your problem. You really oughta’ drink because you remember you have a job. Employments a curse.” Jay retorted, tilting his head back to down the rest of his beer. “You have a job, Jay.” Trixie recounted not really getting his point. “You call that a job? I call that an Illusion.” “You get paid.” Dan chimes in, “Is money an illusion?” he adds sarcasticly. “My kid brother, the jerk philosopher.” Everyone including Dan chuckle at Jays inside joke.

                "And Where do you work?“ Trixie asks Dan, it dawning on her that Matt never mentioned it. "Didn’t you know? Dannie here works at the New York Times.” Matt throws in realizing he never specified. “No Kidding!” Trixie loves that newspaper. It’s the best in the city. “Its a Job.” Dan says it with regret in his voice, but continues, “What I really wanna do is write. Thats why I watch movies.” It felt like the only person he was speaking to was Trixie considering he never took his eyes off her as he spoke. Trixie just smiled their gazes locked until Jay commented, “Everyone’s a writer.”

              "Say Trix, Before I get too drunk to remember…“ Jay handed her the small camera she had given him to fix a week or so ago. She gasped as she took her pride and joy into her hands. "You did it? Its fixed?” She grinned enthusiasticly turning it in her hands. “He said it was a cinch. No sweat.” Jay replied nonchalantly. “Oh, Thank you Jay. I was missing it.” Trixie continued to admire her camera when she felt Dans eyes on her. She peaked up at him and he remarked, “So you take pictures?” “Well..” she began when she was cut off by Matt. “She’s more excited about some chintzy camera than she is about sailing with me to Europe.” The boys shot in, “Women.” and “You said it, pal.” Trixie just glared at them and acted like she was going to snap candid photo’s of them to get revenge.

              The group walked out into the cold New York air. It was past midnight and all were wanting to get to their beds and pass out before another undoubtably long day at work. All walking in the same direction they passed a few friends, all drunk, and made small talk, Trixie promising to call her friend Dottie soon, before they were back on their route to home. Dan turned to Trixie, a small smile on his lips. “Say. You should come by the Times for dinner sometime. I work nights, so.. I got a pal whose a junior photo editor. He loves to Pontificate. I’ll introduce you.” “Really? Yeah. I’d like that.” She quickly looked over to her boyfriend and Jay who were messing around a few paces behind them. “Yeah?” she turns back to Dan. “Okay?” “Okay.” she replies. At her apartment, Trixie sits at the kitchen table while Matt snores the night away in her bed. With her head in her hands she looks down at the red gloves and delivery reciept she had swiped from work. If there was any possible way of seeing the vibrant Katya again, this would be it. She grabs an envelope from her kitchen drawer, slips the gloves inside and scrawls out Katya’s full name (What country is that last name from?) and address on the backside before sealing it up. She slips on her shoes and coat and scurries downstairs and across the street to the mailbox. Giving one last dwell on the situation she stops herself from thinking too hard and slips the envelope into the box. Jogging hurriedly across the street she makes her way back up to her apartment.                                              ……………………

               The mail truck stops right outside Katya and Roy’s luxurious suburb mansion in Long Island. Roy has his driver wait outside for him, promising he’ll be quick. He grabs the mail from the postman and thanks him quickly before entering their once shared home.

            Upstairs in her bedroom Katya and Violet are sitting in front of her Vanity, counting the brush strokes together as Katya combs out her daughters thick, long, black locks. “64…” Violet says in her sickenly sweet baby voice. “65” they say in unison and Violet contiues, “66, 67, 68..” They both hear Roy’s voice greeting the maid downstairs. “That must be your Daddy. Come on, better finish up.” She puts the brush down and combs through her baby’s hair wih her fingers, staring blankly out the window, waiting a bit anxiously for her husband to come upstairs. “Mommy, can you come skating, too?” Violet asks, her voice making Katya’s heart melt like a popsicle on the fourth of July. She looks at her baby’s pleading eyes and answers the only way she knows how to these days. “Oh I wish I could, sweet pea.” Her Four year old quick to respond asks, “Why not? Pretty Please?” Katya looks at the girl with sad eyes and kisses her forehead affectionately.

            "Hiya, Sunshine!“ Roy steps into the bedroom arms open ready to engulf his baby girl in a hug. Before he even gets close, Violet is blurting, "Daddy! I want mommy to come.” as she’s being picked up into Roys arms. “Oh, you do, do you?” He says as he swings Violet from side to side causing high pitched giggles to fill the room. Katya turns to look at the man she once loved so deeply. “You’re early.” she says simply, barely any expression on her symmetrical face. Roy just grins at her with their child in his arms then moves to throw the small pile of mail on the bed. “Mail came.” he says simply as well. And thats that.

        The three are sitting round the dining table, Violet on Roy’s lap scribbling away with her crayons on a coloring book. “Cy Harrison’s wife..” Roy begins but is quickly corrected by Katya, “Ginger.” Roy goes on, “Ginger asked about you.” “Did she?” nonchalant as can be. “I know she’d love to see you there..” He’s of course refering to the Christmas Party their friends host every year. This would be the first year Katya would not attend in over 6 years. She stares at him but his gaze is fixated on Violets coloring. “Well give her my best. I’ve always liked Ginger.” He looks up. Anger crosses his feature before he says a bit more sternly, “I’d like you to be there.” They stare at eachother challengingly for a few moments before Katya looks away. “Sorry, Roy. I have plans.” Violet stops her coloring upon hearing her parents speak. She sneakily adds, “Mommy wants to give Aunt Courtney some presents..” Roys face instantly hardens at the mention of Courtney’s name. He looks harshly at Katya before rubbing Violets back and softly says, “You’ve been seeing a lot of Aunt Courtney lately, haven’t you, Sunshine?” “Yes.” she repies sweetly. “With Mommy.”

          Katya shifts uncomfortably in her seat under his scrutinizing gaze. She looks up into his hurt eyes then back down quickly. “I’ll see if I can rearrange with Courtney.” Roy’s face immediately relaxes back to normal. “Thank you.” A small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. She returns with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her bewitching green eyes.

                                                    ………………..

           Trixie’s back at work a few days later, stupid santa hat in place on top of her shining, curly head. She’s in the shipping department at Frankenbergs talking with the head manager about Katya’s order. “Well I told the customer it would arrive by Christmas Eve. According to what we’ve been told, three days should be plenty of time..” She’s cut off by the shipping manager. “It should have been delivered this afternoon.” she pauses caught off guard by his swift answer. “—Oh.. Right, so it arrived, she signed for it?” “It arrived.” he says an almost annoyed tone to his words. “Oh okay, great. Thank you, Thanks.” She calls as she walks rapidly back to her department.

             Hours later she’s back to work, helping a woman with wrapping a doll box for her child. “Miss Mattel. MISS MATTEL?!” she hears from across the department and looks right into the eyes of her dreaded supervisor. “Over here. Now.” She shouts snapping her long witch-like fingers at her. Trixie apologizes to the customer saying she’ll just be a moment and hastily walks over to where her supervisor is with a phone in her hand. She hands Trixie the phone without a word and walks toward the customer in need. “Hello?” the operator immediately asks Trixie to identify herself as employee 645-A. She does and she’s informed she will be patched through to whoever is trying to get ahold of her at work.

              Trixie leans against the counter top finally hearing the noise that indicates the lines are now joined. “Hello?” “So it was you.” Trixie immediately recognizes the suave voice over the line. “Oh hello, Mrs. Zamolodchikova. Did you recieve the train set all right?” she plays it cool, her heart pounding out of her chest would be the only thing giving her away. Katya is in her kitchen slaving away at the stove with the phone between her shoulder and ear. A true vision of a housewife. “I did. Yes. And the gloves! Thank you so much, you’re a gem for sending them. I just wanted to say— thank you, really..” “Of course.” a small pause on both ends but Katya picks it right back up again only slightly stammering over her words. “Well–What I wanted to say was… do you get a lunch hour there? Well, let me take you to lunch. It’s the least I can do.” Trixie is beside herself. Is this really happening? “Well, yes I…” she trys to answer the first part of the question but goes straight into the second question. “Of course, but you really don’t have to.” “I’m free tomorrow.” Katya says immediately not taking no for an answer. “Tomorrow?” “Do you know Scotty’s on Madison?” Trixie thinks for a second then replies, “No, I don’t know it. Hold on.” She turns to her supervisor who eyes her suspiciously before Trixie asks, “Could I borrow a pencil and paper?” The woman reluntantly puts down the paper she was reading and scowls at Trixie as she hands her the items. “Thank you.” she says a little to annoyed and gets back on the phone. “Um, Alright. Whats the address?”