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hvcmixtape · 2 years

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this is for the lovely cece! (@shuatm) surprise i'm sh(elle), hence the 🐚 emoji for when i was messaging you as your secret santa <3 i hope you really enjoy this fic! i really liked the mistle-foe game you played with your friends so i repurposed it in a way to fit the fic! and aside from the fic, i hope your christmas and holiday season has been lovely so far and you have great energy coming into the new year

and thank you to my friends in the @k-labels server who worked alongside me for the past days while i was getting this done! shout out to davin (@renhaissance), soul (@l-luvr), kana (@luvhyun3), freya (@angelwoozi), and zoe (@badwithten) who were all there at some point while i was writing this so thank you for playing a huge role in me finishing this fic!

pairing: high school!joshua x fem!reader; academic rival!joshua wc: ~5k genre: fluff ; some swearing, but no trigger warnings

The second you feel an icy, dripping sensation down the back of your neck, it’s over for him. You whip your head around and scrunch your nose, balling your fists to edge the urge to scream. “I’ll kill you, Joshua Hong!”

“You can’t kill me, I’m half your grade!” He yells behind his back as he starts tripping over his feet before Joshua goes into a full sprint—as much as he can run with snow on the ground.

With your scarf thrown around your neck, it coasts on the wind behind you as you start to run after Joshua, weaving through the crowd of students waiting for their rides home at the end of the school day. You yell out warnings to passersby, more so for yourself so you don’t jinx anything and fall flat on your face.

You know you’ve caught up to his figure when you grip a hand on the shoulder of his black puffer. “Gotcha!”

…And that’s not the face you were looking for when you are met with the soft face of Jeonghan, one of your classmates. “Sorry, Hannie, you weren’t the person I was looking for. But I’ll see you later!”

Your eyes squint as you see Joshua’s face beyond the scope of Jeonghan and before he can accept your apology, you’re already moving forward with fire in your eyes. The satisfying crunch of fallen snow can’t be more satisfying than the punch you’ll throw toward Joshua’s chest in a few seconds—

“Wait a minute, (Y/N)!” Joshua’s desperate voice is accompanied by his open palms protecting his chest. Your lips purse toward one side of your face as you hold yourself back from moving. Any closer and you’d be in his face. “You can’t kill me because one, our final project is still not done and I’m literally half your grade, and two, we have to get going—everyone’s waiting for us to draw the names for Secret Santa.”

With a roll of your eyes, you let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine. You’re spared,” and with a sailing fist to his bicep, “for now.”

“(Y/N), ow. That actually hurt.” Joshua pouts, but he still leads the way toward Seungcheol’s house, the location of the Secret Santa drawing and exchange for the past four years. Now that you’re all seniors, you’re sure the burning thought on everyone’s minds is where the future will take you all. But the thought of the future can’t overshadow what’s in front of you, and what’s in front of you is Joshua Hong, the guy you’ve been chasing after in each class since freshman year.

His tongue-in-cheek bickering has accompanied each assignment you’ve had, and when you get even a point lower on a test, your blood boils in your chest when his condescending voice sings, “Maybe you can do better next time, I’ll teach you if you want.”

How you ended up being in the same friend group as your academic rival was lost on you, yet your dynamic with Joshua has never changed throughout the years.

“You had to be nice to each other at least once, right? Like maybe when we first formed the friend group?” Seungkwan reasoned when he brought it up to you earlier in the semester. Everyone was there except Joshua, who had soccer practice. “Joshua’s one of the nicest people I know too!”

“To everyone except me! Believe me,” you scoff at Seungkwan’s frown. “I’ve tried to be nice to him, but sometimes he’s just so insufferable,” you argue on your lonely island of one. From the corner of your eye, you could see Mingyu and Wonwoo share a look, and you huff. “I’m being serious! Like no way someone is just their mama’s boy who always goes to church is so nice all the time.”

“Sounds like you’re projecting,” Vernon chides as one of his eyebrows lifts up. “We’ve been friends all this time, and you still can't get along with him. Have you even tried to put in any effort?”

So maybe you've put in a good 5 percent of effort to be nice before you start being catty, but it's also on Joshua to be nice to you too! Like he’s being right now as he lets you go ahead of him when you approach Seungcheol’s door.

You tiptoe in, but there’s no use when Seungcheol yells, “Finally! We’ve been waiting for too long.” He emerges from the other room and his eyes almost bug out of his head when he sees the sight ahead of him. With a low whistle, there’s a smirk on his face that you want to get rid of. “Ho, ho, ho, merry Christmas, am I right? Can’t believe I’m seeing a Christmas miracle.”

“Fuck off, Cheol.” Jabbing your thumb in the air behind you, you explain that you weren’t planning on coming in together. “But this kid wanted to throw a snowball at the back of my neck.”

“Hey, it was just so tempting considering the first snowfall was yesterday.”

“What’s so tempting is me punching you for real.”

Joshua’s face gets increasingly closer to yours, finding a way to tick you off further. “Oh? Why don’t you do it then?” You can feel his breath on you as he taunts you.

You start walking over to where you hear the rest of your friends, but Seungcheol grips your shoulder. “Uh, uh, uh. Look up.”

You and Joshua tilt your chins up to the ceiling, green leaves tied together with a red bow taunting your whole being.

“Mistletoe…” Joshua whispers as he dissects the leaves with his vision, as if it'll slowly dissipate the longer he looks at it.

“Like hell, I’ll kiss Joshua.” You shove Seungcheol lightly, pushing your way toward the living room where your friends’ faces lighten up at your appearance.

“(Y/N)!” Seungkwan exclaims happily. “Did you get stuck under the mistletoe? I heard a little bit of what you were saying at the door.”

“Yeah, (Y/N) didn't wanna kiss me, their loss,” Joshua says as he shrugs himself around you, tossing his backpack on the ground and joining Seungkwan and Vernon on the carpet.

With Seungcheol following not soon after, he yells, “Mingyu, how many times have I told you not to put your feet on the coffee table?”

Mingyu puts his feet back on the ground. As Joshua, Seungkwan, and Vernon sit around the coffee table to discuss the physics test they just took, Wonwoo and Mingyu sit on one couch, and Seungcheol makes his way to sit beside Jeonghan (who somehow made it there before you and Joshua) on the other couch.

You take the last seat near the fireplace, kicking off your shoes and curling up near the heat. You've always loved Seungcheol’s house. During the holiday season, you loved to help his mother hang stockings on the mantle and ornaments on their tree. Her highest compliment was her loving how you arranged the poinsettias on their dining table. It’s a good change of pace from what you're used to.

“Who’s ready to pick?” Seungcheol pipes up once individual conversations die down.

“I mean, it doesn’t matter because we’ll know immediately who (Y/N) has,” Joshua jokes and Vernon dabs him up for that.

You can’t help but roll your eyes and say, “Yeah, let’s just start before Joshua has anything else to say about me.”

Just like last year and the year before that, Vernon takes a beanie out of his backpack to serve as the selection bowl. Each person rips a small slip of paper from Jeonghan’s notebook and writes their name down. Again, the thoughts flood your head, wondering if next year will be anything like this when you all go down your different paths.

“Everyone put their names in the hat,” Vernon puts his arms out, and everyone reaches over to drop their paper in.

“Hey, watch it!” Seungkwan glares at Jeonghan when he feels his head jostling from a push.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” Jeonghan says but still laughs heartily as he settles back into the couch before Seungkwan can launch himself to get in a punch. Even though Jeonghan is older than him, Seungkwan’s hands and feet are ready for anything, especially if it’s Dino, the youngest friend in their friend group.

Mingyu leads by pinching the fabric closed and shaking it. With his eyes closed, he opens it back up and selects a slip out of the hat, slower than ever.

“Does he know that this isn’t the Triwizard Cup?” Vernon quips, and you can’t help but laugh. Everyone else starts erupting, whether it’s in chuckles or complaints, and one of Mingyu’s eyes slowly opens.

When he figures out who he has, he nods with a smile and passes the hat to Wonwoo. It keeps going on and on until it’s Joshua’s turn.

While you hope you don’t get Joshua, you do hope that he does get you. Out of all the boys, Joshua is the most thoughtful when it comes to gift-giving. Three years ago, as freshmen, you received the best gift you’ve probably ever gotten.

“This is a huge package,” you mutter to yourself, and you glare immediately at Seungcheol before he says any “that’s what she said” jokes. As you’re removing the wrapping paper, you’re wondering what you could have done in your life (and past life) to be the recipient of such a big gift.

“You’re taking so long, (Y/N),” Jeonghan complains as you try to remove the wrapping paper all in one piece. Even the wrapping paper is beautiful with metallic gold and silver lines running along it. “You’re not even going to keep it!”“You don’t know that!” You yell back.

He totally knows that you won’t.

As you speed up the process, you open the box and are met with a Studio Ghibli movie poster for your room, a stunning stationery set, and an Animal crossing figure for your favorite villager. You’re ready to move on and guess who gave you your present, but you notice one last small box in the corner of the package.

When you pick it up, the suede container is so enticing, but you want to savor the moment. You lift the top off.

“(Y/N), you’re going to catch flies,” Vernon laughs.

“What is it?” Seungkwan leans over, and when his eyes catch what’s inside, he knows why you can’t help dropping your jaw.

You unconsciously rub your neck, running your finger over the gem and the initial of your first name attached to the chain. It has always been your favorite gift, even if your rival was the one who gave it to you.

Joshua loves to act like he has everything under control, so when he pulls his slip of paper, the smile on his face never fades. There is no scrunch between his eyebrows or nose. He’s the poster boy for calm, cool, and collected.

Right after him is you and you’re determined to be just like Joshua. He passes you the hat, maintaining eye contact for probably the first time in a month before he goes back to joking with Jeonghan about your facial expressions.

You choose the slip of fate after swishing your fingers around. Before you open it, you swivel your head to check if anyone’s looking and lean back in your chair.

The folds get straightened out and your heart rate rises, by a lot, and your eyebrows pull up toward the top of your forehead, and—

There’s no way…you got Joshua?

You’ve crossed off each day on your calendar, and today is no exception. Before you leave your bedroom, you take your red pen and cross off on December 19th, the last day of school before winter break. Underneath the number, a reminder is written about the Secret Santa exchange.

There’s no need to ask you how you feel about being Joshua’s gift-giver this season, especially given the fact that you could very well be his last one too. In the conversations that you overhear (not eavesdrop), he’s told Vernon and Jeonghan that he’s in talks with an entertainment company in his mother’s homeland. He wants to make a name for himself and try it out for a year. If it works out, he’ll keep going. If it doesn’t work out, he’ll apply to UCLA or UC Irvine just like everyone else.

What an extravagant plan for a gap year, huh?

Either way, you want to make this the best Secret Santa any of your friends have ever seen.

Bless the soul of your teachers, who seem to want to work less than the students, and you breeze through the day with a full stomach from the holiday parties in each class period. At the end of the day, the school assembles in the auditorium for the annual senior superlative Christmas show.

Seungcheol sits on a throne as the star of the show, Santa Claus—as if he could have been anyone else. Mingyu and Wonwoo opted to be Santa’s security and stand behind him with black vests and shades, arms crossed as if they were monitoring the situation. Vernon hangs out on the edge of the stage with Jeonghan and Seungkwan, who are all gingerbread men. You’re sitting in the back of the stands, ruffling your wings when they call out the names of the angels. The one you want to laugh at is Joshua, whose been appointed as everyone’s favorite red-nosed reindeer.

The show goes off without a hitch, and you can’t say you were surprised when your ears perked up when you hear your name called…in conjunction with Joshua’s.

“Been working since freshman year for this very moment,” Joshua quips as he slings his arm around your shoulder to pose for the photographer. This very picture will be going into the yearbook with the description “Best School Rivals.”

“I’m clearly the better one,” you roll your eyes after the flash goes off.

“In your dreams, (Y/N),” he says behind his shoulder as you both head back to your seats.

There’s not much left in the school day when the show ends with all the seniors thanking their teachers with words and gifts, so you’re ready to exchange your halo and wings for comfier clothing to go to Seungcheol’s house for Secret Santa.

“Ah, (Y/N), don’t change until after the exchange,” Jeonghan tells you as you clean out your locker for the semester.

You’re still placing books into your bag when you ask for the reason.

“We need to take pictures! We’re only seniors once,” he cites the reason for almost every single stupid thing the boys have done to excuse their actions. “If you’re ready, then we can go to Seungcheol’s together?”

You scan up and down the locker before you grab the Christmas bag at the bottom of it. You shut it afterward and say, “Yeah, I’m ready.”

When entering Seungcheol’s house, you’re careful with where you stand and with whom. You’re certain there can’t be any mistletoe above the door frame, but you never know, so you make sure that Jeonghan walks ahead of you. There’s a breath of relief you’ve never felt before until you saw there was no green bouquet taped to the wall of the front door.

Just when you think it couldn’t get more festive, there’s more baubles and ornaments on the Christmas tree, a strip of hanging lights around the mantle, and is that even more tinsel?!

“Your mom has outdone herself, as she always does,” you muse as Seungcheol brings out bowls of snacks and sets them on the living room table.

He’s still dressed in his Santa costume, somewhat, as his jacket and thick belt rest on one of the chairs. “Do you expect anything less from her?”

You pluck a piece of popcorn from the bowl and shake your head with a chuckle. “Where’s everyone else?” You ask, your eyes peering at the backpacks surrounding the coffee table. You place yours near theirs, but the gift bag stays with you.

“Changing back into their costumes because Jeonghan told Seungkwan that he wanted to take a picture and everyone already came here changed out of them.”

Classic.

One by one, the boys come back to their usual spots, adorned in the very same costumes as they wore on stage with small modifications here and there to look less dressed up.

When Joshua comes back to sit on the floor near you, you call his name. When his head turns toward you, you can’t help but tap the end of his nose. “Your nose is still so red.”

“Really?” He scrunches his face as he pulls out his phone to view his reflection in the camera app. “Fuck, I tried using Cheol’s face soap too.” He groans and shakes his head. Glancing down at the bag you’ve placed in your lap, Joshua purses his lips. “Who’s it for?”

“Tell you as soon as you tell me, Hong.” You point your chin to the box near him. “Who’s the lucky person with your gift this year?” There’s no malice in your voice.

“Someone you know well.” He chuckles at the gears turning in your head, rendering you more confused.

Now that everyone settles into their seats, Jeonghan says you all should take a picture before the gifts are revealed, and insists further when the sounds of grumbles fill his ears.

The group shuffles into positions, and you slide down to sit next to Joshua, which may have been the wrong decision because he leans over to attempt to peer into the bag.

“What the hell, Joshua,” you mutter. “I knew someone was going to try to do that so I put way too much tissue paper in here.” You press the top shut, sticking your tongue out at Joshua before it’s time to pose for the picture.

Jeonghan takes charge of the running back and forth for the timer, something everyone is beyond used to by now.

Vernon’s the first to say something when the dust of picture-taking settles. “Are we gonna start or what?” Everyone places their gifts on the coffee table, sizing up what could be theirs.

Seungcheol and Vernon go head to head with rock paper scissors. (A game that’s actually fair since the last time they tried to settle things with an arm wrestle, Vernon yelped so loud.) Vernon wins best 2 out of 3, so he searches for the tag that’s his.

“Sweet,” Vernon talks to himself as he opens the box and finds a beanie and a chain resting on top of a hoodie. “Can I guess…” He surveys his options. “Mingyu?” The guy shakes his head. “Wonwoo?”

“Yep, I got you.” Vernon walks over to give his gift giver an appreciative hug.

Seungkwan’s turn is a blur because you know you’re up next after him. All you know is that Mingyu gave him a Starbucks giftcard and a new equipment bag for his upcoming volleyball season.

“It’s (Y/N)’s turn,” Seungcheol sing-songs with a bit of a naughty grin. Your stomach drops a little bit, and then even more as you realize the very gift meant for you is the gift Joshua was holding.

Your very wish had come true.

“You really got me, Joshua?” You look to him before you pick up the gift and he nods with a smile that you usually don’t see when it comes to you. It’s in beautiful wrapping paper, just like last time. You wonder if his mom’s the one who wrapped it this time and the time three years ago because knowing that Joshua absolutely sucks at knitting does not give you the most hope.

To prevent this time around from being a repeat, you rip the paper, even though you would have loved to repurpose it in some way, shape, or form. It’s a box, similar to the one that Vernon had from Wonwoo, and you remove the top.

Your hands fly to your chest as soon as your eyes took in the sight. Pictures upon pictures pasted on top of each other, all forming to create a heart. The words on top make out the words “You’re the best, (Y/N)” and now your own heart is in your throat.

You scan the poster, recalling the memories that come with the pictures. There’s one off-guard photo that you never even knew existed from when you and Joshua actually spent time alone together and you didn’t explode somehow. It was a biting winter day just like this one and you threw freshly-fallen snow into the air, smiling as the snowflakes drifted wherever the wind took it. You’ve never seen such a natural smile and yet, here it is in this very picture.

“There’s some other things underneath the collage,” Joshua says, his voice coming out gentler than you expected.

Keychains for the people who have already committed to their colleges—Vernon’s heading to NYU, Cheol and Jeonghan are both going to Berkeley, and Wonwoo’s going to UC Irvine. (So many smart boys you’ve got in the group.) There’s one more, a keychain for Pledis Entertainment.

“It’s to remind yourself of me,” Joshua explains. “I’m not going to college yet. Or ever, depending on how this whole idol thing goes.”

“You’ll do so good, Joshua,” you whisper because that’s as loud as you can get without your tears overflowing. You continue to move on with the gift, finding a pair of the cutest frog plush slippers, an apple pie candle, and a slip promising you that he’ll make you cold cider before the season ends.

Lastly, a sealed envelope rests at the bottom of the box and Joshua implores you not to open it in front of everyone and just wait until you’re by yourself. “Just wait until you’re home.”

The other boys ooo-and-ahh, especially Seungkwan who wants to know why. “Secret feelings maybe?”

Cheol snorts and says, “Maybe a copy of his perfect grades.”

You smile at Joshua before putting everything back into the box and placing the top back. “Thank you, Joshua.”

The group continues with Mingyu, but your mind is still stuck on Joshua. This whole time, you’ve been shitting on him and he created you such a beautiful ensemble of presents. There’s not necessarily a pang of guilt, but more so a pang of “I’ve always seen Joshua as an academic rival, but why am I so committed to the bit?” and your eyebrows furrow at the thought.

You try to connect back as it’s now Wonwoo’s turn, but you can’t fully tune back in until it’s Joshua’s turn.

“How did we manage to have each other?” Joshua muses, concluding that the bag in your lap was for him.

He pulls out the tissue paper, commenting that you definitely put too much in here, but he finds the last piece and places it down.

Your heart beats faster, and you can’t tell if it’s from seeing his hands dip into the gift bag, or the way his hair parts, or the sheer anxiety that you didn’t pick the right presents especially knowing he gave you amazing ones.

Regardless, nothing beats the way his smile grows wider than when he pulls out your gifts in a line.

“Wow, this is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” he says about a rabbit polaroid picture holder.

“This is your favorite, isn’t it?” He asks about a book you gifted him after you reading it in class piqued his interest.

“I love this scarf!” He exclaims, the colorful fabric pulling apart as far as his wingspan will allow.

Despite only giving three things, Joshua pulls you into a hug, resting his chin on your shoulder as his hands rub up and down your arms.

When he lets go, you kind of wonder how it would have been to stay in the hug longer but your brain doesn’t stray for too long when Joshua thanks you profusely for the gifts. “These are all so thoughtful, thank you (Y/N).”

“You’re welcome, I’m glad you like them.”

If only you could see the shock on everyone else’s faces as they watched this scene unfold, but even after Jeonghan and Seungcheol unwrap their gifts, the question bearing on your mind still bothers you.

“How did everyone else manage to get someone different, but Joshua and I got each other?” You ask, pointing to the two of you. While Vernon’s clasping his chain on and Seungkwan’s pressing his new tangerine pin next to the other three he has on his backpack, Seungcheol and Jeonghan try not to make eye contact. Mingyu and Wonwoo suddenly increase in volume.

“Hey! For real,” Joshua agrees with your question. “There’s no way this happened by chance.”

Everyone stops what they’re doing and all of a sudden, it’s so easy to make eye contact because the 6 of them look toward each other for an answer to produce.

“It was his idea,” both Seungcheol and Jeonghan say at the same time. Your mouth opens and closes, trying to find the words to say, but there are none.

“I mean, okay, it may have been my idea,” Jeonghan admits, scratching the back of his ear. “We all just kind of wanted to see you guys be nice to each other for once, instead of at each other’s throats for the rest of the year.”

Vernon adds, “Yeah, you're probably going to kill each other for the top 2 rankings, but you're friends before you guys are classmates.” He grips Joshua’s shoulder. “And dude, I know you don’t really feel that way about (Y/N). You’re only rude when you’re around her.”

“We know how you truly feel about (Y/N). You li—” Seungkwan’s eyebrows wiggle and Joshua physically lungs at him, pressing his hand to his mouth. With Vernon in the middle trying to lean back so he doesn’t get weighed down by Joshua’s body, it looks like a weird family photo.

After a moment, Joshua straightens himself and takes a deep breath in and out. His composure doesn’t dismiss the fact that his face is redder than the remaining face paint on his nose.

Mingyu jumps out of his seat, pulling on Wonwoo’s arm. “Ah, I have a phone call to take! Wonwoo has to come too.”

“I didn’t hear your ringtone go off.” Wonwoo narrows his eyes, but allows himself to be dragged away into Seungcheol’s kitchen across the house.

“Cheol, I’m hungry, do you have food?” Vernon perks up, looking at his friend. “Seungkwan’s hungry too.”

“There’s chips right there?” Seungcheol raises an eyebrow, but sighs. “Fuck it, come on. Jeonghan, I know you’re hungry too.” He herds the rest of them into the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone.

You’re dumbfounded with the way you’re just left with these feelings that swirl around your head. “Did you know?”

“About this?” Joshua points to the gifts. “Not at all. But now that I think about it, I probably should have guessed.” He laughs and there’s a relieved look on his face when your stone face relaxes.

“Thank you for the gifts again.” You say to fill the space of silence. “Kinda sad you’re not staying here.”

“There’s still one more semester left. You can’t get rid of me just yet.” Joshua shifts to sit directly across from you. “Even though they arranged it to be this way, I’m glad I got to be your Secret Santa.”

You smile, looking down at your hands. “So what was Seungkwan talking about when he was talking about feelings?” You watch the pads of your fingers dance with one another as you wait for his response.

“Well, yeah, it’’s true that I don’t hate you. I don’t hate anyone, but well, I can’t tell if you hate me or not.”

Your face falls, finally feeling that pang of guilt. “I think I just got so caught up with being the best that I never really considered how you felt. I…” your voice trails off. “I don’t hate you, Joshua.” Your voice gets quieter and quieter. “It’s kind of the opposite, I think.”

“What?”

You groan, finally looking at him in the eye. “This is going to sound so stupid, but I think my feelings took the wheel and I was rude to you to mask how I felt about you.”

“What kind of feelings are we talking?” Joshua cocks his head, being careful with the moves he puts forward.

“Ugh, I don’t want to say it, but I like you?” Your statement comes out more as a question, but the confirmation is rock solid.

Joshua runs his hand through the locks of his hair as he tilts his head back to stare at the ceiling. “I’ve liked you since the moment I met you, (Y/N). Freshman year, biology class.”

“No way.” You laugh in disbelief but your tone gets more serious as you continue, “You let me speak to you like that even though you liked me?” Your palm flies to your forehead, fingers clutching your hair.

“It was kinda fun. Teasing you and all that.” Joshua chuckles. “But yeah, I’ve liked you since then and I thought maybe I could say something about it before senior year ends. That’s what’s in the envelope.”

All of a sudden, scurrying footsteps tiptoe on the floor of the living room and the only thing you see is Seungcheol violently tossing something green and running away immediately after.

It lands in Joshua’s lap. It’s a green bouquet, wrapped in a red ribbon. “Mistletoe, good one, Cheol,” Joshua yells in the direction of the kitchen with no response. “Well, if we have mistletoe, we can’t disappoint.” He shrugs as he holds the end of the mistletoe above your heads.

“I guess not,” you reply with a grin before licking your bottom lip, taking one good look at him, and at last, pressing your lips to his.

(You know the saying, keep your friends close and your rivals closer? Thanks to this Christmas miracle, you finally believe it.)

please feel free to provide feedback, reblogs, or likes if you enjoyed reading this fic!

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emotionalcadaver · 9 months

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Part 17: Loved

Fandom: Inception

Pairing: Robert Fischer x OC

Summary: Alice calls her mother with some news.

Word Count: 2,139

Notes: Warnings for depictions of shitty parents and references to emotional child abuse.

Previous Part • Series • Next Part

When she was three years old, Alice broke a teacup.

She had been playing, pretending to serve tea to her stuffed animals, all situated around a table, and the piece of China had slipped through her clumsy little hands, breaking into a million pieces all over the floor. And then her mother was barreling in the room, grabbing at her shoulders and shouting, shaking her back and forth while tears streamed down Alice’s cheeks.

And for just a glimmer of a moment, Alice was afraid that her mother might hit her.

It was a memory that returned to her now, as she paced back and forth along the soft carpet in her office, cell phone clutched to her ear while it rang. The door was closed, but even through it she could distantly hear the sounds of splashing and laughter from the pool they had on the back deck. Spooky, who had followed her into the office as if able to sense her distress, meowed, jumping down from where she’d curled up on the couch to rub against Alice’s legs. Stooping, she scooped the little black cat up with one arm, pressing a kiss to her soft head before sinking down onto the couch, Spooky situating herself in her lap.

“Hello?” the sound of the voice on the other end of the line, picking up at the last ring, made her jump. She had honestly not expected her to pick up.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Alice? Whatever are you calling for?”

Alice sighed, head thrown back and biting her lip. “I just…wanted to say hi, I guess,” it wasn’t the truth. She had called for a very specific reason. But she figured she ought to go about things slowly.

“Oh.”

The awkward silence that followed made her wish that the ground would open up to swallow her whole.

“How are…how are Celia and the kids?” she figured it wouldn’t hurt to bring up her mother’s favorite conversation topic.

“Oh! Just wonderful! The girls are getting so big! Did Celia tell you Kinsley got first place in the science fair? Not that it's surprising, of course…”

“No. No, she didn’t,” Alice figured it probably wouldn’t be the best idea to mention that she hadn’t spoken to Celia in over a year.

“I just don’t understand why Cece couldn’t have given them more normal names, yanno? I’ve never understood it. She didn’t have to go full classical, of course, but something a little more mainstream wouldn’t have hurt.”

“Of course,” Alice said monotonously.

“Do you think you’ll be visiting soon? It would do the girls good to know their aunt.”

Alice frowned. “I don’t…I’m not sure…things are still…settling here,” another lie. The dust had fully settled around the splitting up of Fischer Morrow a little less than a year ago.

“Of course. Though if you come you’ll also have to swing by your father’s and Tracey’s. If they hear that you were in town from Celia or David and didn’t visit they’ll be upset.”

By “they” Alice knew she meant Tracey. Her father probably couldn’t give much of a shit if she visited him or not.

“I still am amazed how that all…transpired, you know. Even all these years later.”

“Yeah. So am I,” she failed to keep the bitterness entirely out of her voice.

“Really? I mean, Tracey was your friend all throughout high school…”

Yeah, which just makes it all that much worse. One of your closest friends marrying your father almost immediately out of high school wasn’t exactly something that endeared one to either party involved. Her father had settled for unapologetic in his attitude about the whole thing. Tracey still tried to act like they were the best of friends every time Alice saw her.

It had not been her initial intention to fall almost completely out of contact with her family. It just sort of happened. The geography of where they were located certainly didn’t help matters, but the older she got the more she was beginning to realize that this was probably how it always would have gone. Even if she’d lived in the same city as them.

Her relationship with her older sister had always been tumultuous. Celia was the superstar of the family. She was good at everything, smart, charming…everyone’s favorite. And she had never liked Alice, and their parents always took Celia’s side. Even when Celia was cruel to her.

So, when she decided to phase out all contact with her sister outside of the occasional presents sent for her nieces, it really hadn’t been that surprising to either of them.

Her little brother David was different. He had been Celia’s little soldier when they were growing up, but as he got older, he’d softened to her somewhat. They would never be close, but he was probably the only one Alice would even be remotely interested in visiting should the occasion arise.

Her father had never forgiven her for not supporting his and Tracey’s marriage, and much as Tracey tried to keep their friendship afloat, Alice could never look at her the same.

And then her mother. Her mother who had always treated her as a nuisance and a failure; never once acknowledging any of her accomplishments. Always making her feel less than her siblings. The only thing Alice suspected she saw her as any good for was a potential avenue to getting her hands on the Fischer fortune. Otherwise, she wondered if her mother would even take her phone calls at all.

“Mom,” she took a deep breath. Might as well just rip the band-aid off and get this over with. Then she could end the call and go back outside to be with her friends.

Her real family.

“Mom, there’s something I wanted to tell you.”

“Alright.”

Spooky, who had nestled herself onto Alice’s lap, meowed up at her, making biscuits against her thigh. She smiled down at the cat, allowing her cuteness to district her for a moment.

“I got married this weekend.”

The words hung in the air for a long time, nothing but shocked silence on the other end of the phone.

“Married…” her mother said softly. “To Robert?”

Alice’s brows furrowed at the questions. “Yes. Of course to Robert.”

She was met with another bout of silence.

“Alice, are you pregnant?”

She chastised herself for not being ready for that response. In hindsight it was incredibly in character for her mother to ask that. Though it still shocked her.

“What!? No!”

“It’s just…honey, this is…this is so sudden…”

“Robert and I have been dating for ten years!”

“You’re still so young, Alice…”

“I’m thirty-four!”

“Now, there’s no need to get upset,” her mother said sternly, but Alice thought she detected a trace of defensiveness in her voice. Like she was embarrassed.

Did her mother really have no idea how old she was?

The realization made her throat go dry, the part of her that was still a small, desperate child just looking for her mother’s approval whimpering in pain. But the rest of her was relieved.

It would make what she needed to do next easier.

The silence on the other end of the line was deafening.

“Is that all you have to say to me?” Alice asked finally, realizing that her mother was waiting for her to speak. Probably expecting an apology.

“Alice…what do you want me to say?” her mother sighed.

“Oh, I don’t know. A congratulations would be nice,” sniffing, she rubbed at her forehead. “Look…if you want to tell the others…Dad and Celia and David…that’s up to you. But I–”

“You’re not going to call them?”

“No,” she said quietly. Truth be told, she hadn’t made up her mind if she would. At least not until that exact moment.

“But…your father and your siblings…they’ll want to know…”

Alice shook her head even though her mother couldn’t see her. “Would they?” she spat out bitterly. “Listen…I’ve thought about this a lot…and I’ve decided that…” she swallowed hard, and forced herself to be strong. “I’ve decided that this is the last time we’re ever going to talk.”

“Wha–wait. Wait a minute, sweetheart. What? What do you mean?”

Alice sighed. “Let’s be honest for a minute, Mom. I was always just the extra child, right? The screw up…the black sheep. None of you were ever proud of me or tried to understand me or…anything. And I know that me being married to Robbie might mean that you now think…” she bit her lip, then shook her head. “I’m not going to be just a bank for you to come running to every time you have financial issues.”

“So you’re just going to cut out your entire family and be down there in Sydney all alone?”

From outside the door to her office, she could hear laughter. “I’m not alone.”

“Alice…”

“Look, I’m sorry, but I have to do this. I…I need to do this,” if Robert was strong enough to tear himself free from Fischer Morrow, she could tear herself away from the cruelty of her family. She could. “I love you,” I’m just sorry you’ve never been able to love me back.

“Alice!”

“Goodbye, Mom,” she hung up the phone before she could hear anymore, quickly switching the ringer off so if her mother tried to call her back she wouldn’t know, tossing it away into the throw pillows on the couch, burying her face in her hands. A few tears spilled from her eyes, chest spasming with them.

Spooky meowed, standing from her lap and knocking her head against Alice’s hands, purring and rubbing her face against her in comfort. Dropping her hands, Alice wrapped her arms around the cat.

“Good girl, Spooky,” she praised quietly, kissing her between the eyes. “I’m okay.”

She gave herself a handful of moments to pull herself together, scrubbing at her face and blowing her nose, taking a few deep breaths before opening the door and venturing out down the hall and into the open plan living room and kitchen. The door to the back deck and pool was open, so their guests could come and go as they pleased. Cider was sitting in her cat tree, watching proceedings with disapproving eyes, but when she saw Alice she hopped down to rub against her legs.

“Hey,” Robert was in the kitchen, clothed in just his swim trunks and sandals, dumping a bag of chips into a bowl to take outside. “How did it go?”

“Eh,” she shrugged, making her way around the counter to him. “As expected.”

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his chest, kissing the top of her head. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“It’s okay. It’s done,” keeping one arm around him, she snagged a chip from the bowl, still leaning her head on his chest while she angled her face to look outside. “Everything still going well out here?”

“Of course. Everyone’s having fun.”

“Mm,” she smiled to herself, watching as Eames cannonballed into the pool, James and Phillipa shrieking in delight from their floaties. Cobb was lounging in an inner tube, watching the whole interaction with a grin. On the deck, Arthur, Yusuf, and Ariadne were lounging in the poolside chairs, chatting. They’d all come down for the wedding; a private affair out on the beach near the docks where she and Robert used to play as children.

“Hey,” he gave her a little squeeze, nuzzling at the top of her head. “I’m proud of you.”

She smiled a little sheepishly, hiding her face in his chest. “Thanks.”

In all honesty, she didn’t feel that bad about it at all. Certainly not hollowed out or lonely, like she expected. Instead she felt free. Like a massive weight had been cut from her.

The realization of the knowledge she already knew was fully settling in: her family had never been the people who raised her back in California.

Her family was right there in their house. Her husband, her friends, and her cats. All the people who had always loved her just the way she was. She no longer needed her mother’s approval, or her sister’s acceptance, or her father’s love. And she would never feel the need to return to the old neighborhood in Los Angeles where they all still lived within a few blocks of each other.

“Let’s get back outside, yeah?” Robert suggested.

“Yeah,” she smiled, letting him take her hand in his while he balanced the chip bowl with the other. “Hey,” she stopped, pulling him towards her gently until he was right in front of her, so she could stretch up on her toes and kiss him. “I love you.”

Robert grinned so brightly he could have put the sun to shame. “I love you too.”

Yes, she was happy right where she was.

Where she was loved.

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Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

#robert fischer #robert fischer x oc #inception #alice emerson #alice emerson x robert fischer #my ocs #my fanfiction #loved #hiding here inside a dream

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deanoheartspie · 1 year

Text

2 Different worlds- Chapter 2

Paring: Mom! Reader x Actor Dean

Warnings:

A/n:

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Heh... I swear I wasn't eavesdropping. Eh, I kinda was I can't lie. You're in a tough situation? I think we can help each other out.” He says stuffing his hands in his pockets.

You didn't know him, sure your children recognized him from a movie but what would he want with you? “I don't know you. No thanks”

The green-eyed man sighs as he sticks out his hand. “My name is Dean, what's yours?” he asks as he never once looks away from you, showing that he had his full attention on you.

After a few seconds of deep thought, hesitantly stuck your hand out shaking his rough hands, that we're far too large around your own. “Y/n. What do you mean help each other out? I don't even know you”

Dean smiled and gently pulled his hand away, sure he had a charming smile and good looks but what in the world does he need from you that he can't find anywhere else?

“So, I can help out you and your family, pay for whatever you need to get away from that jackass. I know this is going to sound wild and a little coo-coo, but I need a fiancee to show my parents and other directors that I'm not some playboy anymore not that I ever was.” he rambled on and let out a deep sigh once he finished.

You pursed your lips, as you glanced at your kids who were slowly getting rowdy and whiny. “I' don't know. I can't promise anything.” Dean nods and quickly fishes out his phone handing it to you, putting your number in as you opened the car door.

“Y/n. Please just think about it?” You give him a little nod and wave, as you get into the car heading back to the little motel that you guys had been living in.

Sure it was old and had a funny smell, but at least you were away from Jonathan and that's all you could've asked for. The kiddos were sitting on their one bed, distracted by the tv screen as they stuffed their little faces with chicken nuggets.

“Mommy, when do we get to go back home?” Emmy asks quietly as she plops herself next to you on the old couch. That sent a little pang to your heart, you knew they all missed home but it wasn't safe anymore... “Honey I don't know. Maybe tomorrow you can see Nicolette?” Nicolette was your long-time friend, who helped you through everything, she even put the motel in her name so Jonathan couldn't find you, so she was practically a aunt to the kids.

“Woohoo!! Finally, I miss Tia!” Cece your 6-year-old daughter shouted showing you an excited dance. Your eldest child, your son Daniel who was 8 always worried you, he kept to himself and didn't say many words but it shocked you when he ran up to a stranger saying he knew them.

Around 9:45 the kids eventually fall asleep, tucking them like a little burrito and pushing their hair out of their faces to give them a little good night kiss. Plopping yourself down onto the couch with a sigh as you glanced at your phone, seeing a text already from no other then dean.

Dean: So. My dumbass realized I would need to text you first since you gave me your number.

Y/n: I kinda figured that when I was deciding if I should text you or not.

Dean: Ah, still deciding? I offering you money and a nice place for you and your children to stay. I only need to pretend for a month or so? My brother thinks I made a girl up, heh I kinda did huh

Y/n: How do I know you aren't some crazy person?

Dean: I solemnly swear I ain't a crazy person, That's what a crazy person would say. Shit help. How do I prove that? You can look at my records if you want.

Y/n: when do you need this arrangement to start? and how much are you offering?

Dean: Hmm, say this week on Wednesday, and 400 dollars an hour sound good to you?

Y/n: Dean. That's a lot of money and you don't even know me

Dean: I don't need to know you, to know that it'll help you'd kiddos get to do something fun on the weekends or save up for a new place. Just take it Y/n, and if you'd like to talk about the agreement more meet me at Cafe Bloom tomorrow at 2:30.

Y/n: Goodnight dean

Dean: And goodnight to ya sweetheart

••°•°•°•°•°•

You couldn't believe it, there was no way in hell that the green-eyed man was being serious about all of this. But what if he was? It'd be a mistake to not at least try right?

Guess you'd be going to visit the cafe tomorrow.

---Tag list---

@hobby27

#dean winchester #jensen ackles #supernatural #2 different worlds #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean winchester masterlist #dean winchester series

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canonfatbisexualenby · 10 months

Text

❄️Drabblecember Day 2❄️

🥧Baking Together🍪 (prompts by @eternally-smitten)

The sound of Christmas carols rang throughout the Halpeesly (Sara’s makeshift name for their little family) kitchen. She was currently helping Pam make gingerbread cookies while Jim watched ‘How the Grinch Stole Christmas’ with the kids.

“Could you pass me the butter please?” Pam asked, her eyes currently on a decades old cookbook. She was convinced newer recipes weren’t going to be as ‘authentic to the Christmas experience’. The book had been in Pam’s family for years, so Sara honestly thought it was cute.

She walked over to the kitchen island and passed Pam a glass measuring cup full of cubed butter. Pam smiled to say ‘thank you’.

Sara peered at the small flurry of snowflakes coming down outside. This was her first Christmas with a full family unit since she was about 16.

Most previous Christmases consisted of spending the day with her Uncle Mike, watching ‘A Christmas Story’ and ordering Chinese takeout. She loved her uncle Mike, and he her, but she as she got older she grew increasingly aware of the fact they spent their Christmases together as adults mostly because there was no one else to share it with at the time.

Before she could reminisce too much, she felt a hand against her shoulder. “Wanna help make the dough?” Pam squeezed and smiled sweetly.

Sara nodded and gingerly rubbed her thumb against Pam’s hand.

Sara walked over to the array of ingredients about on the counter. She thought of the many times she had tried to cook with her old family. It had usually ended in frustrated tears and/or hurt feelings. She was suddenly nervous.

She knew Pam was much more patient and forgiving than her parents. But she still feared making some kind of ‘grave’ error.

When she moved in with her uncle, she suddenly had to learn all the tips and tricks about cooking for two she could. She figured that’s why she had a somewhat ‘odd’ relationship with food.

“So...” she started, turning on the faucet to wash her hands “-how do we start?” Pam turned toward the recipe book, peering at the instructions.

“I’ve already mixed all the dry ingredients together, so you don’t have to worry about that step.” Pam scratched her cheek, leaving a mark of flour behind. Sara giggled.

Pam looked a tad puzzled but smiled back nonetheless. “After that is the somewhat tricky part. We have to beat the butter and add brown sugar and molasses next.”

Sara nodded, drying her hands on a red towel embroidered with a cardinal. She eyed the the large hand mixer.

Pam walked closer and looked at Sara. “Would you like to do it?” Sara thought for a moment and decided possibly ruining the whole batch/plan wasn’t worth the task. She passed the mixer to Pam.

She started the device, gently placing it in the bowl. The butter turned into a creamy mixture. “Could you measure out the molasses and brown sugar, hun?” Pam asked. Sara walked back to the island, a tad relieved her task was simple.

“How much do we need?” she asked, opening the bag of sugar. “We’re making a small batch, so...” Pam thought for a second “Three fourths cup, packed, for the sugar and two thirds of a cup for the molasses please!” Pam quipped cheerily. Sara smiled and started measuring.

Jim walked in grinning “It already smells so good!” He was carrying Phillip in one arm and holding Cece’s hand with the other. The little girl had wet eyes and a prominent frown.

“Oh, what’s the matter?” Pam looked with a concerned expression. “I think she’s a little tired.” Jim replied. Cece gently rubbed at her eyes.

Sara continued measuring out the molasses into a small cup. She honestly got a little nervous during ‘family moments’ like these, because even though in her heart she knew she belonged here, the small insecure part of her brain told he she was intruding or imposing or whatever.

“I need to wash up a bit, could you help Jim with putting the kids to sleep, please?” Pam asked. Sara turned and smiled, nodding. “Of course. I’ll let you finish this up and get clean.” Sara replied.

After the kids were sleeping, Jim and Sara headed back to the kitchen. The carols were off and the kitchen wasn’t quite as fragrant, but a small touch of whimsy still hung in the air.

Pam was cleaning up the mess the cooking had made. She smiled as they entered “There’s my two favorite loves.” She walked over to the both of them, stretching up on her toes to plant a kiss on Jim’s cheek, then leaned down to give one to Sara. Her hair smelled like cinnamon and clove.

“If one of you could, please be a dear and put the dough in the fridge to chill.” Sara nodded and shuffled away shyly from Pam and Jim, still giddy over her kiss.

“Doesn’t that need to chill for a few hours?” she heard Jim say as she placed the discs of dough into the refrigerator. Pam mumbled ‘mm hm’. Sara had never made these before and was suddenly concerned with the chunk of time they had in front of them.

She also felt awkward in moments like these, where it was just her, Pam and Jim together. She knew he was a nice guy, but still worried he held some kind of resentment towards her for the fiasco in ‘07 and the fact Pam had feelings for her. Another part of her occasionally insecure inner voice.

“We should finish the movie!” Pam said as Sara closed the fridge door. “Of course.” Jim replied. She looked over and Pam and Jim were peering at her, as if waiting for her input. Her heart fluttered. “Let’s go!” She smiled.

They got comfortable in the living room. Pam dimmed the overhead bulbs so the Christmas tree served as the main source of light. Jim brought out Grandma/Ms.Beesly’s various quilts. Sara made sure the television wasn’t too loud as not to wake the kids.

Pam sat next to her and placed a quilt on the both of them. Jim sat next to Pam, putting her in the middle. The movie resumed and Sara felt content in this very nice moment.

Taglist 🏷️ (if you would like to be added or removed please don’t hesitate to ask): @deadlock @gideongrovel

#drabblecember #self insert community #self insert #S/I x Canon #self insert fic #sapphic self shipper #self shipping #self shipper #Horse Girl Next Door 🐴💜#hopefully this is okay? I feel this this Drabble is All over the place but yea hebe #*hehe

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cecevandoren · 3 months

Text

meet cecile; a sweet girl with her own pair of rose colored glasses

BASICS

FULL NAME: Cecile Adelaide Van Doran

NICKNAME(S): Cece

AGE/DATE OF BIRTH: 27, 9/14/1996

GENDER: Cisfemme

PRONOUNS: She/Her

OCCUPATION: Clerk at New Leaf Bookstore

SPECIES: Witch

ABILITIES: astral projection, catoptromancy, familiar manifestation and eidetic memory

BIOGRAPHY {TW: Mentions of child illness, slight mentions of sexism}

Often, when people complain about being a middle child, it has to do with the lack of attention and focus that person received growing up. But that could not be said for Cecile Van Doren. No, while her brother was the eldest, and the only boy, she was the first daughter and for that, her mother doted on her dearly. As a child she was provided the most luxurious of dresses and doll houses, tea sets and plush stuffed animals, all in the most wonderful of pastel colors. And of course, when the youngest Kathy was born, some of the attention was off of Cecile, but that did not last for long. You see, most of her childhood was spent within the walls of Verdant Vale Hall, either tended to by her mother or a slew of doctors. She can't remember the first time she felt faint, but Cece could tell you that it was a regular occurrence for the young girl. And while her parents were old money rich, with unlimited resources and connections, this was not something they could fix with snap of their fingers or a signing of their checkbooks. In fact, Cece wholeheartedly believes if her mother had not constantly poked and probed her father, the answer to why she was such a sickly child would never had been discovered. JR Van Doren had priorities, which included power, networking connections, and the future decisions of his perfect son. There were times, when Cece was lying in bed for the fourth day in a row with a bout of stomach pains and mouth sores, that she wondered if he cared if she lived. After all, if she were to die, he'd have another daughter. A replacement. It's why her relationship with her mother is so deep, because while Blythe Van Doren could be a lot of things, she was still a mother at the end of the day. And she did not want to see her baby in pain. Her family's response to their middle daughters illness was simple. Keep her inside and distracted until they found answers. A cure. So the majority of Cecile's childhood was spent within her home. Her favorite places to journey, when she had the strength and stamina to get out of bed, was within the family green house surrounded by as much life as she could find. As she discovered reading and the escapism that could be achieved through books, most of her days were spent huddled up within the green house, a blanket wrapped around her body, and a thrilling romance in her lap. And on days that she could handle it, she was homeschooled by tutors her mother brought in. Cecile had always know she was different from other kids, even her siblings. Royce could leave as he pleased, Kathy had all the friends a girl could ask for, and Cece had her books. The quiet. Thankfully, she had her magic. It began to manifest in ways that she seemed to subconsciously need. The ability to create a familiar was first. A small furry feline friend that would always keep her company even in her most lonely of nights. Next was catoptromancy. A way to observe the world around her, even speak to those who were not in the room with her. And then astral projection was freedom from her insufferable, wicked, betrayer body. It was not until she was in her awkward teen years that her family began to get some answers about her sickness. Osteoporosis was her first diagnosis. It explained her lack of energy, her frail frame, but it was uncommon in children, so that began to years of testing to figure out what caused it. While the doctors Cece saw were very knowledgeable and seasoned, it felt as though every consultation, her mother was focusing on different symptoms. Whatever was most prevalent at the time. No true line of consistency. And no one thought to consider mentioning her inability to keep down most foods, because often that was thought to be a symptom of whatever it was she was cursed with. When she was diagnosed with Celiac's Disease, informed that it could in fact be the cause of her Osteoporsis, and advised to remove gluten from her diet, it felt almost like a joke. Like something should have been noticed sooner, not when she was nearly seventeen. Her youth stolen.

After a strict dietary change and numerous daily vitamins and supplements, Cecile found she was able to return back to the world. She began to leave her room, join family events, even leave her home. Of course, after years of being sheltered by an overprotective mother, it does not feel as though Cecile can actually leave her home. In fact, she fears she will die in her childhood bedroom if her mother has any say. Unlike her father and her brother, Cecile did not go to college. Her father made it clear her expectations in this life, now that she had a semblance of one, was to find a man of upstanding birth, marry and have children. To help further on their kind. And while the idea of finding someone and falling in love does sound so appealing and romantic to Cece, she's unsure if that's all she'd like out of her life. Her life feels as though it'd just begun, why must she have expectations already?

HEADCANONS

honestly cece is just a sweet cutie patootie girl who has no real life experience due to being bed bound for most of her childhood. so now that she's got a pretty good bill of health she just wants to live a seemingly normal life.

cece doesn't understand the value of money, and like, how much her family truly has? she was around it all her life, and because she wasn't necessarily exposed to other people or lifestyles, she can't comprehend how much money actually means to people. you need to pay rent? can't you just make some more money to pay it?

aside from the day when she was given a clear diagnosis, the day she was welcomed as a member into the coven was when she felt the most pride coming from her family. but for someone who has no idea what she wants out of life, she definitely questions how much she could truly help the coven. and often fears she's not actually a valued member, but only was welcomed in because of her brother.

cece often disappeared into her own mind as a child, and even today it is not unusual for someone to wander upon her daydreaming. the current concept that is taking up all her free time is that of moving out of her family home. finding a place of her own, and for once feeling like she had some sense of control over something in her life. but she is deeply afraid to run the idea by her parents, her mother specifically, and fears any hint that she'd like to live her own life would get her locked back up once more.

her family definitely makes her the example. when talking about what her siblings are doing wrong, they talk about what cecile is doing right. how she is representing their family and following what is expected of her. it's exhausting and uncomfortable to often be considered the upstanding child, and wishes she could rebel in the same way her siblings have been able to.

love is something she had dreamed about but never experience. and it would be safe to say she falls quickly. kind words, a warm smile, it would not take much for someone to sink their claws into cece's heart. she often thinks the best of people, and gives most the benefit of the doubt.

Cecile received all of her mother's nurturing nature, but almost nothing from her father. Cece was primarily doted on by many members of the house staff as a young girl. Tutors to help with her education and etiquette lessons, and the governess for everything else.

Cece tried college. She had made it through one semester when her father put that idea to rest. Women don't need degrees, he had said. And grumbled about how the school was filling her head with unnecessary thoughts. Her mother had asked her to rethink attending her second semester, but made it clear it was not likely that her father would be paying for any education. Ultimately Cece did not go back to school, although she often dreams about seeing her education through.

MISCELLANEOUS

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Heterosexual

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Demiromantic

FAMILY: J. Royce Van Doren II - Father Blythe Van Doren - Mother J. Royce Van Doren III - Older half - brother Kathryn Van Doren - younger sister

HOMETOWN: Lunar Cove, Rhode Island

FACE CLAIM: Hannah Dodd

HEIGHT: 5’6”

EYE COLOR: Brown

HAIR: Blonde

DISTINGUISHABLE FEATURES: a small mole above her lip

STYLE: floral summer dresses, long flowy skirts with a crisp white blouse tucked into it, her hair tied back in a loose braid or falling in soft curls around her face, large sunglasses, brown leather loafers, no make up makeup

ASTROLOGICAL SIGN: virgo

PINTEREST: (x)

PLAYLIST: (x)

TIMELINE: (x)

WANTED CONNECTIONS

the pen pal (+). as cece spent most of her childhood holed up inside, one of the ways her mother tried to help her feel like everyone else was by setting up an pen pal for her. it was with another child in lunar cove, and one of the only people cece has been able to share her secrets, frustrations, and dreams with. of course writing on paper turned into emails which eventually became texting, but the two still talk.

the childhood friend (+). cece did not have many friends growing up, but this person was who she could call a best friend. they lived close by and bonded before cecila's sickness showed its ugly head. playing make believe or dress up when cecila was physically up for it, or doing something as simple as reading together in quiet, the two could spend hours together. (would prefer a muse who lives/lived in celestial hills)

truly anything, just hit me up if you have any ideas!

NOTABLE CONNECTIONS

j. royce van doren iii (+). dearest older brother. cecile is on good terms with both of her siblings, but as a young girl she was always drawn to tripp's stories and personal experiences outside of lunar cove. anytime he was home she would sit and listen for hours to his recollection of what he had been up to since his last visit, demanding he share every small detail. she would write him while he was away at school and was so incredibly happy for him when she first heard of his happy nuptials. and devastated when the marriage came to an end. the two are very close, and while he can be slightly overprotective, cece knows it is out of love.

noel delaney - lopez (+). the bad influence. noel isn't exactly a bad influence as much as someone who is trying to convince cece to try everything. if cece needs an excuse to drink or smoke or do something that he parents would frown up, she knows she can turn to noel for the support.

kui kariuki james (+). the style guide. the van doren women have been shopping at blush boutique since cecile can remember. however it wasn't until kui came back that cece felt interested in fashion. she heavily defers to kui for guidance regarding her personal style.

aiyla baysal (+). a serendipitous sister. to cece's surprise, she first noticed aiyla when she was standing within the walls of verdant vale in royce's shirt. ever since there has been a softness between the two, a bond that surprised even cece. she finds it easy to talk to aiyla and can't help but wonder what exactly is transpiring between the faerie and her brother.

brielle rivas, frankie sullivan, and leyla selvi (+). the bookish buddies. regulars at new leaf bookstore that eventually struck up a conversation with cecile about what they were currently reading. which turned into a conversation about what was on their tbr list, as well as what they marked dnf. they all share a love of stories and literature and are friends on goodreads.

daphne bishop (+). a courageous companion. cece needs to learn to say no, and daphne had decided to guide the girl. as cece has been sheltered for the majority of her life, she finds it very hard to set boundaries and stand up her parents. daphne not only has begun to help the girl gain more confidence with doing both, but is also helping teach her skills she might have missed out on.

wendy savika (+/-). the benevolent boss. cece couldn't ask for a kinder employer. wendy cares about new leaf's success just as much as cece does, which is why the blonde has put so much pressure on herself to be the best employee she could be. it's not that wendy is cultivating such an environment, in fact most days are relatively relaxed. as this is her first job, cece just wants to prove she is worth being hired.

#{the autumn chill that wakes me up || intro}#{never be so polite you forget your power || cecile van doren}

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petra-creat0r · 2 years

Note

If you know The Legend of Zelda, a Zelink kid would be awesome

And if you don’t know TLoZ then I’d like to see a 3rd Gen Undetale fankid :)

So, figuring out a Zelink kid at first was harder than I thought. There's so many versions of Zelda and Link, as they're more of titles/reincarnations. Also, many Zeldas and Link look similar. However, I eventually got it. Using the BotW versions of Zelda and Link, I present, Lyra.

I think that she's an adventurer like her father. Also I like the head canon that Link is mute, so Lyra knows sign language. I definitely think she's a daddy's girl.

Anyways, I also just wanted to draw some of the 3rd gen kids. So meet Sariel, Broadway, Giko, and Chicago's kids.

Accalia the Were-Cabra

Full name: Accalia Acselina Cabrera

B-Day: March 24th, 2047

Age: 5 (In 2052)

She/They

-Very shy. Likes to read with her Mama

-Can transform into a human form like their dad, but only on full moons

-Has telekinesis and telepathy

-Anemic.

Hollywood the Zombie Lizard

Full name: Hollywood Haruki Blook

B-Day: August 9th, 2046

Age: 6 (In 2052)

She/Her

-Very passionate

-Frills pop up when happy. She likes it looks like a crown

-Has ghost and weapon magic

-Loves to dance

Cookie the Nutcracker Rabbit

Full name: Cookie CeCe Corbel Cottonheart

B-Day: July 7th, 2048

Age: 4 (In 2052)

She/Her

-Biter. Loves to eat, or just chew stuff in general

-Other than biting, likes her Papa's inventions

-Puppet string magic

-Energetic and giggly

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merricxt · 2 years

Text

intro: MERRICAT CAO

DRAFTS STATUS: (0) normal replies (0) replies to open starters (0) closed starters

‷ watch out , MARCELINE “MERRICAT” CAO SMITH has crash-landed into roswell !! they look THIRTY-EIGHT YEARS OLD and celebrate their birthday on JULY 25TH. they are from ROSWELL, reside in GREYSTONE COMPLEX and are currently working as A TATTOO ARTIST AT BLACK BOX TATTOO & PIERCING. one thing you should know about them is WHEN THEY WERE BEGINNING TO LEARN HOW TO TATTOO, MERRICAT MADE SOME VERY BAD TATTOOS ON THEMSELF, BUT COVERED MOST OF THEM UP LATER ON, EXCEPT FOR A BADLY DRAWN BIRD ON THEIR LEFT LEG. ‷

TW: death

➣ NICKNAMES: Merricat, Cece, Marce (if you want to piss her off)

➣ PRONOUNS: She/They

➣ ORIENTATION: Bisexual

➣ BIRTH DATE: July 25th 1984

➣ OCCUPATION: Tattoo artist at Black Box Tattoo & Piercing

➣ THE PAST:

↳ Marceline was born and raised in Roswell by caring, loving parents, at least until they died in a car crash when she was seven. She doesn’t remember much about them, though she kept a bunch of family photos and some other family stuff when she moved to the orphanage. She spent most of her childhood there, being raised by people who, although caring, had a somewhat distant demeanor, likely from raising so many children at once.

They were a troublemaker from the start. Academically smart, sure, but way too curious to be obedient. Since that was pretty much known by everyone, it was a surprise when a kind couple adopted them at age twelve. They already had a biological child and another adopted one at that point, so Marceline was once again surrounded by people they didn’t quite know. When it came to their name change, they refused to get rid of their old surname, and their new family name ended up just being added at the end.

Merricat continued being a troublemaker after that, always being contrasted by her much calmer and more focused siblings. She graduated with a high GPA and got a scholarship to the University of New Mexico, where she started a chemistry degree, later changing it to an art history degree, and finally graduating with a criminal justice degree, all of which she never used. She got her first tattoo in college, and having been obsessed with drawing and painting since she was little, decided to start learning how to do it.

They still went through a lot of career changes, never being able to hold a job for more than two years because they always got bored with it. They finally started tattooing as a job nine years ago, and that was the one career she fell in love with.

➣ THE PRESENT:

↳ Merricat still holds a lot of the hobbies she accumulated through her life, like boxing, painting, and crocheting, and keeping up with all of them makes her feel like she has no free time. Being adopted herself, she has applied to adopt an older child almost a year ago, but she’s still in the process of figuring that out.

➣ ABOUT ROSWELL:

↳ Merricat can sometimes go full conspiracy theorist, but how much they actually believe is up in the air even for themself. They do enjoy making alien themed tattoos, though, which is all that matters.

➣ RELATIONSHIPS:

↳ Rhys Evan Taylor: Ex-boyfriend/one that got away

#roswellintro #death tw

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free-pool-trash · 4 years

Text

folklore - isaac lahey {9/?}

Hey lovlies ✌🏻💕 sorry this part took so long something wasn’t sitting right with me so I rewrote it like 3 time 😫 but don’t worry I figured it out.

It’s all angst from here I’m afraid crew

👁💧👄💧👁

Pleasssssse let me know what you think, im hanging by a thread here 😭💕

Word count: 5.1K

Warning(s): fluff at the start :), a whole bunch of swearing, blood, mentions of death, let me know if I missed any! <3

Masterlist

taglist (open): @makeusfreefromthisfandom, @cece-lives-here , @chocolate-raspberries, @belsandthings, @dancing-tacos-23 , @truly-dionysus, @britty443, @tanyaherondale, @furiouspockettoad, @yunsh-17 , @random-thoughts-003, @gloomybrieyxb, @linkpk88 , @big-galaxy-chaos , @im-a-stranger-thing , @its-evita-here , @pad-foots , @sweetpeabellamyblakedracomalfoy , @bookswillfindyouaway , @what-the-hap-is-fuckening, @awkwardnesshabitat, @pieces-by-me , @wreny24, @marveloucnco , @babypink224221 , @bookish-bucky @alexa-rae-dreamz , @thebookisbtr , @nxstalgicnxbxdy , @cloudy-zoey , @booknymph02 , @tairisceana let me know if you’d like to be added <3 (i had to remove some because tumblr wont let me tag them 💔)

The next morning came by all too quickly, you’d barely gotten any sleep. Yourself and Isaac spent the whole night talking, just like you used to before the tone of your lives had changed drastically.

There was so much you needed to get off your chest, and of course Isaac had a lot to say too so that’s what the pair of you did- put everything out on the table.

You did a whole lot of talking, laughed a lot, cried a little and for the first time ever during one of your and Isaac’s late night chats there was an incredible amount of shared kisses. Those little perks of being a couple were something you could definitely get used to.

Your fingers drew circles on Isaac’s chest, the boy laid there, contently looking down at you. Your head was comfortably tucked against his shoulder, turned up at an angle so that you were still face to face.

He noted how your eyes glinted in the morning sun, watery due to lack of sleep. It was crazy to him; the effect that you had. He swore he could be on fire and all it would take to put him out was one of your reassuring smiles pointed even vaguely in his direction.

Realistically, Isaac knew he should’ve been sad- heartbroken, even. His father had just been quite brutally murdered, he should be a mess, but he wasn’t.

Maybe it had something to do with the years of trauma the man had inflicted on him or maybe it was Isaac’s new supernatural status, whatever the reason for it, Isaac wasn’t mourning the death of his father.

Instead, all he could think about was how warm your body felt against his.

“It’s morning time.” He smiled at your murmur, the smile widened when you pressed a soft kiss to his collarbone.

Isaac hummed in acknowledgment and squeezed your leg that you had thrown across his stomach. “Yeah.”

You moved your chin to rest against his chest, eyes looking into his, “We can stay here if you want. We don’t have to go to school.” You suggested but Isaac knew it was more of a plea when he saw the hopeful grin growing on your lips.

“Nah I gotta go in. I have lacrosse practice.” He spoke out, his voice low and grumbly from how tired he was.

You scoffed jokingly, pushing yourself up so your lips were hovering over his, “Lacrosse huh?”

His eyes were hooded now as he glanced down at your lips, his hands moving to grasp your waist, “Mhm.”

With a smirk you ghosted his lips with your own, you could hear his heart beating through his chest and you could feel how badly he wanted to connect his lips to yours.

“Well then I guess we better get a move on.” You whispered against his lips, pulling away abruptly and hoping out of the bed, strutting to the bathroom with a sway in your hips as you knew he was watching.

A look of disbelief was painted across his face as he shouted through the walls, “Out of all the things that have happened this week that was the most fucked up!”

You were going to kill Scott when you got your hands on him. Seriously could he have been anymore obvious?

“Scott! What the hell are you doing.” You whispered from the bleachers, knowing he could hear you.

The boy whispered back, determination clear in his voice, “There’s another werewolf. I need to find out who it is.”

He must’ve smelled it off him. So much for keeping it a secret.

“Scott stop, I know who it is.” You panicked, by the time the words left your mouth both Isaac and Scott had sent each other flying through the air.

As you made your way down from your spot on the bleachers to separate the commotion happening between your two baby werewolves, you noticed sheriff Stilinski and a few deputies making their way across the field.

The sheriff’s gaze was set on Isaac and you found your feet matching the older man’s pace in a silent race to get to the boy in question.

Unfortunately, since you were unable to use vamp speed, the sheriff had beaten you in the unspoken race. His hand had wrapped around Isaac’s bicep as he attempted to lead him away.

When you realised what was happening, you threw caution to the wind and began jogging, not even sparing Scott or Stiles a glance when they called out for you to stop.

Once you were close enough you reached out, successfully grabbing Isaac’s wrist and stopping him and the sheriff in their tracks. “What’s going on?” You demanded, looking between Isaac and the sheriff.

“They think I killed my dad.” Isaac told you quietly and you couldn’t stop the look of utter disbelief that appeared on your face as you moved to stand between Isaac and the sheriff.

“Are you kidding me?” The sheriff sighed with exhaustion at your shout. He knew it was going to be a long day when he saw his son and Scott marching toward the already escalating scene.

“Look, kid. He’s a suspect we have to hold him.” Sheriff Stilinski had been making arrests for a long time but he was sure the look you were giving him was the most venomous he’d ever seen.

“A suspect? Why? What’s your proof?” You shot out, eyebrows furrowed and fangs ready to spring from your gums.

Maybe it had something to do with the night of the full moon looming but you were finding it extremely difficult to keep your anger in check. After yesterday, you were almost certain if your rage got out out of hand there’d be no stopping you.

“We, uh, have reason to believe that Isaac had motive to kill his father. That’s all I can tell you.”

You scowled at him, easing up only slightly as you felt Isaac interlocking his fingers with yours from behind you. “That’s bullshit! He couldn’t have killed his dad because he was with me.” You lied smoothly.

The sheriff raised an eyebrow in disbelief, “With you?”

“Mhm. At my place.” You continued, ignoring the squeeze of warning you were getting from Isaac.

“Look, we have an eye witness account saying that Isaac fled his home, followed by his father and your name never came up.”

Letting out a cynical laugh you all but squared up to the man, “Yeah? And where do you think he fled to?” You asked challengingly.

You would’ve said more if Stiles hadn’t shoved himself in between yourself and his father, sporting a fake smile on his face as he started to ramble, “Hey guys! How we all doing? Good? Good. That’s really great to hear. (Y/n) can I borrow you for a second?” Stiles prompted you, nodding his head rather aggressively in an attempt to get you to stand down.

“No.” You and the sheriff spoke simultaneously, shocking Stiles.

“Young lady, I don’t think you understand the seriousness of what you’re saying. Being an accomplice to murder is a serious offence.” He told you sternly, clearly wanting to give you an opportunity to back down and walk away.

“(Y/n) come on.” Scott pleaded from behind you and you could feel the anxiety seeping off of both Stiles and Isaac.

Stiles laughed nervously, also trying to give you a fighting chance of walking away, “She’s not an accomplice! You’re not an accomplice, right?”

He fixed you with a confused look and repeated, “Right?”

“No I’m not an accomplice because Isaac didn’t kill his father!” You rebutted angrily through gritted teeth, the boys surrounding you terrified of the look on your face in that moment.

With a hard look, sheriff Stilinski took your arm in one hand and Isaac’s in the other and pulled the pair of you towards the police car, “I’m afraid I’m gonna have to take you both into holding.”

“Why the hell would you do that?” You heard Scott exclaim desperately from behind you, his voice two octaves higher than usual.

Carefully, you began to whisper quietly under your breath so that only Scott and Isaac would hear you, “Tonight’s the full moon. I’m not letting them put him in a holding cell alone. Call Derek. Come get us out.”

You didn’t glance back at Scott to check if he heard you, you simply kept walking ahead and complied with the sheriff as he placed you into the car, beside Isaac.

“Since we’re technically in prison and you’re technically part k9, does that mean you’re my bitch?” You wondered out loud, looking across the holding cell at Isaac who sat (moping) on the bench.

“Don’t make me laugh. I’m mad at you.” He grumbled and you pouted from your spot on the floor.

“It was a serious question.” You whined.

Isaac groaned, completely disregarding your question, “You’re insane? You know that don’t you?”

“Rude.” You complained, leaning your head back against the cold bars of the cell.

“No seriously. You shouldn’t be in here with me.” Isaac grumbled yet again.

“Ok, first of all, you shouldn’t even be in here in the first place because-“ you paused, took a deep breath and looked at the camera adjacent to yourself and Isaac on the wall outside the cell before shouting, “He didn’t fucking do anything!”

You had to force yourself into calming down as you felt your anger causing your heart rate to rise rapidly, you took one more deep breath and then continued what you had been saying.

“Secondly, and in all seriousness, the idea of you being in here on your own makes me feel physically sick, especially since it’s your first full moon and all this crap with the Argents going on… I just wanted to be with you.” You admitted sheepishly, picking at the sleeves of your jumper to avoid his gaze.

Isaac’s heart beat picked up at your words but you couldn’t say anything as yours had too, with a soft sigh he muttered, “You don’t have to protect me.”

“I know. I know you don’t need protection, you never have. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t strength in numbers right now.” Isaac was quiet for a second before speaking up again.

“Hey, babe?” You looked up at the sound of his voice, he was giving you a soft smile that made your heart skip a beat.

“Yeah?” Isaac was shaking his head in disbelief, he let out a short chuckle and made his way across the cement floor and slid down beside you.

You watched him fondly and couldn’t help the roaring laugh that left your mouth when he leaned in close to your ear and whispered, “I’m definitely your bitch.”

Before either of you knew it, night had fallen and you’d begun to feel antsy. Your chest grew heavy with each noise or set of passing footsteps. You paced the cell restlessly, wringing your hands together and doing your best to disregard the feeling of dread swelling up inside of you.

It wasn’t long before Isaac was holding his head in his hands, his knee jutting in the same restless manner that you were pacing.

Growls were rising from the back of his throat and you wouldn’t lie, it was making you more than a little nervous.

You slowly approached him, proceeding with extra caution you reached out and tugged on his sleeve, hoping the action would bring him a sense of familiarity and not startle him.

Isaac’s head whipped around, his eyes glowing amber when they landed on you. “What’s happening?” He asked in a growl.

As gently as you possibly could, you moved your hands to Isaac’s cheeks and did your best to ignore his changed features.

“It’s the full moon. How are you feeling?” You kept your voice quiet, again trying to accommodate his heightened senses.

Isaac only screwed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw tightly, “Like I want to rip apart everything I see within a fifty mile radius.”

Your eyes widened and you looked at the holding area door, helplessly wishing Scott would come rushing through the door.

Isaac’s face seemed, for once, not to be comfortable in your hold as he began to growl and attempt to break out of your grip.

“No, no, no. Isaac, hey. Look at me.” The wolf reluctantly stopped wiggling and fixed his gaze on yours. Your eyes were now blazing purple and you felt your own composure slipping from your grasp.

Another gutteral sound left Isaac’s throat, his clawed hands digging into your hips for some kind of leverage. “Just keep looking at me alright… God, I don’t actually know how to do this but, uhm, just think about something that’ll keep you grounded, ok?” You told him frantically, speeding through your words as you heard the approaching footsteps of someone who was definitely not Scott or Derek.

The boy in front of you nodded his head just as the door opened. No, it didn’t open, it was practically pulled off its hinges. Effectively ruining the progress you’d made with your moon crazy boyfriend.

The man who walked in was dressed like a deputy but the gushing wound and arrow sticking out of his leg gave him away as a fake. As well as that, the gun he was pointing at Isaac gave him away as a hunter.

“Oh shit.” It was your turn to growl when Isaac broke out of your grasp. He pulled the cell door clean off, and set off towards the hunter.

Immediately, you ran behind him but before you could stop the two from killing each other, something else caught your eye. And your nose. It had taken over all of your senses, actually…

The blood leaking from his leg had you frozen on the spot, your mouth watering and mind unable to focus.

By now, Isaac had tossed the hunter aside and you weren’t sure when, but at some point Stiles had entered the room and your boyfriend was now attempting to attack your main food source.

“(Y/n)! Little help here?” Stiles cried from the floor and you tried your best to pull yourself together.

It didn’t take too much strength for you to restrain Isaac, you had one arm wrapped around his shoulders and the other around his torso, successfully holding him against your chest.

You hadn’t noticed how hungry you were in the moment, you needed to eat before someone would need to restrain you.

Pushing the hunger away you tried your best to get through to the new wolf struggling against your grip.

“Remember the thing that keeps you grounded! What was it? Tell me about it.” You tried to prompt, however as soon as Isaac attempted to respond a resounding howl filled the room.

The sudden noise had caused Isaac to cower against you. His body shook against yours, reluctantly you released him from your hold, allowing him to curl up in fear against the nearest wall.

Derek stood at the head of the room, his aura screaming for command as he glowered down at Isaac before turning his gaze to you and Stiles.

“I’m the alpha.” The Hale stated pompously.

With a questioning laugh you motioned towards the mess of the room, Isaac in wolf form shaking and whining like a kicked puppy, a mercenary bleeding and unconscious on the tiles and a very rumpled up Stiles.

“What you are is a grade A ass. Where the hell were you?” Derek stiffened at your agitated tone.

The man in question cleared his throat, his authority slipping away in the presence of your glare, “Scott & I went to scope Isaac’s house.”

“And that took you six hours?” You scoffed, kneeling down next to Isaac and running a gentle hand through the scared boy’s hair.

He whimpered at your touch, only quieting down when you transferred as much calming energy as you could manage to conjure up onto him.

It was getting harder to ignore the blood lust you were feeling, the smell of blood and Stiles’ racing pulse were beginning to cloud your mind. It wasn’t the usual hunger, though. It felt far more violent. Almost as if you’d never be able to get enough no matter how much you consumed.

“I need to leave.” You stated, standing from your spot beside Isaac and fixing Derek with a hard look, “Take Isaac somewhere safe.”

“Wait hold on, where are you going?” Derek asked sternly.

“To find some blood before I start ripping people’s throats out.” You responded bluntly, not waiting for his reply, you used your speed to leave the sheriff's station.

You found yourself in the woods. Close to the old Hale house.

There was a certain scent, you couldn’t quite place it though. It was metallic, but unlike the blood you were used to, it smelled stale.

But still, it was captivating your senses and you needed to get to the bottom of it. You couldn’t decide what was more overpowering, your hunger or your curiosity.

Impatiently, you made your way through the darkened tree line, following the scent until it led you to the building you were oh so familiar with.

The Hale house stood before you, menacing as ever and reeking of old blood.

As you walked up the porch steps, the rotten stairs creaked with every shift of weight. When you finally placed your hand on the door you realised your mistake.

What felt like a billion bolts of electricity shot through your body the second your palm met the door knob.

All of your breath left your lungs as your body hit the floor. As your legs and arms seized and convulsed on the forest floor, having rolled down the porch steps with the force of the shock, a voice sounded from out of the shadows.

“Well, well, well. Look what we have here…” The voice was old and scratchy, something like a worn out vinyl, a record that had been played so often that some of the tunes now came out as a painful drawl. “Come on, let’s get her rigged up.” The man demanded and you writhed against the many pairs of hands that began dragging you to what you assumed was some kind of van.

Your vision was blurry as you attempted to get your bearings, sitting up in the van after the doors had been forcefully slammed and you were left alone.

“Le-“ You attempted to heave out words, your attempts were fruitless though as your lungs were still devoid of any oxygen.

Frustration seemed to give you the strength you needed as you finally regained enough control over your body to yell out, a very enraged, “Let me out you bastards!”

A cynical laugh came from the head of the van, “She has a lot of spunk. You’d know she was a L/n.”

“I’m going-“ You rasped yet again, fighting against the shackles that had been placed on your wrists at some point, “To fucking rip your stupid throat out! With my teeth!”

As threatening as your words were, your wheezy, out of breath voice let you down.

“Now, now. No need for that.” He spoke, only for a voice you recognised to cut him off.

“I’m starting to think this wasn’t the best idea.” It was Chris Argent. You forced yourself to move as close to the front of the van as your shackles would allow.

“What exactly do you plan on doing with an innocent seventeen year old, Mr.Argent?” You drawled, the electricity almost completely out of your system, your lungs finally working at their usual capacity again.

When the hunter didn’t grace you with a response, and you figured you couldn’t do much else right in the moment, you decided you’d poke the proverbial bear.

“You tried to kill my boyfriend tonight… it’d be a real shame if I had to retaliate.”

“Shut it.” Chris said, his voice unamused, bordering on nervous.

Bored, you clicked your tongue, “No, I don’t think I will. Anyway, unless you want me to go into graphic detail about how I’m going to disembowel both of you when I get out, tell me why you’re kidnapping me.”

The old man chimed in then, “Because you, little girl, are an abomination.”

“And you, old decrepit asshole, are getting on my last nerve. Give me a straight answer before I make you give me a straight answer.” You tugged violently at the chains, loosening them from the metal wall, to convey your point.

“Brute force will get you nowhere, little wolf.” Wolf? There was your opening. They didn’t have a clue about you.

Deciding you couldn’t give away your only edge, you played into their delusions, “Where was that a few hours ago when you sent a hitman to put down a seventeen year old boy who's never done anything worse than miss an assignment?”

He scoffed then, “No matter how sweet you think you are. You wolves are all the same. You’re all killers.”

A laugh left the back of your throat, “Are you senile or something? Last time I checked you hunter dickheads were the ones killing people.”

“That’s enough, we’re done talking.” Chris asserted, you couldn’t see either of the men you’d been speaking to but you could imagine their clenched jaws at your statement.

With a smirk you kept talking, “You killed, what was it? Oh yes. All of the Hale’s. Cora was only a little older than me at the time, Kate torched the house five years ago so that would have made Cora twelve years old when she was burned alive.”

You paused for a second, allowing your anger to seep off of you and onto them. “Tell me… what monstrosities could a twelve year old girl have committed?”

“This is your last warning.” Chris grumbled and you ignored him yet again.

“All of these broken morals lead me to wonder; what would precious Alison think of all of this? Maybe I’ll ask her at school on Monday.” You tormented the men, readying yourself to make a break for it as you felt the van slow down.

Quietly, or as quietly as you possibly could, you freed your wrists from their shackles. Shakily you stood up and then you waited.

When the door opened you fixed the two men who were looking at you in mild shock with a smirk, “Hi.”

“How did you… those shackles were doused in mistletoe.” At the old man's shock your smirk broadened. It was something you had found out from both Damon Salvatore and Deaton. Mistletoe only weakened wolves, not vampires.

With a coy shrug you shot them a wink, “I’d really love to stay and chat but, I have homework.” With that you began to run, but the older man caught your forearm before you got a clean break.

And normally, his amount of strength wouldn’t have been able to stop you, what was really hindering your movement was the dagger he had logged in your abdomen.

Your eyes were wide and you let out a pathetic squeal of pain when he twisted the knife in your stomach, his voice was menacing as he spoke, “You’re not going anywhere.” He spat out in your face, hand firm on the dagger.

“Yes. I. Am.” You seethed through gritted teeth, containing the blood that was filling your mouth.

Using whatever strength you could muster, you threw the man away from you and took off running, the dagger still lodged in your abdomen.

When you were sure you were far enough away, you fell to your knees.

Taking a shaky breath you looked around the street you’d landed on. You weren’t sure where you were and your phone was lying abandoned on the floor of the woods. It was times like this you wish you had a howl.

Then as if it was some incredible mirage, driving down the street was a light blue jeep. “Stiles!” You screamed at the top of your lungs, dragging yourself to the edge of the road.

“Stiles! Stiles please!” You cried out, letting out a breath of relief when the jeep stopped only a few meters from you.

Within seconds Stiles was sprinting over to you, sliding the rest of the way on his knees and cupping your face with a terrified expression, “Y/n!? What hap- hu- oh dear god!” He tried his best not to gag when he noticed that you were literally impaled.

“Ok. Ok. No what happened? Wait no. Right not important.” The boy rambled and you let him lead you as he picked you up from the dirt and placed you laying down across the back seat of his jeep.

Stiles drove like a madman to the hospital, wincing when you’d whimper and muttering apologies when you’d let out a cry.

“I think you would’ve been really proud of how I handled that situation.” You jested weakly from your spot, Stiles looked at you briefly in disbelief.

“What? By getting stabbed?” He shot back.

You offered him a faint giggle, “Nah, you shoulda heard me, Sty. I was such a snarky bitch.”

“So that’s how the stabbing thing happened. Got it.”

Only a few more minutes passed before you’d arrived at the hospital. Stiles had practically dragged you in and you couldn’t help the mewls of agony you were letting out as he passed you off to Melissa.

“What the hell happened?” She screeched and all you could offer in response was a blood filled cough, causing Melissa to nod her head in understanding, “Right. Questions later.”

Aimlessly you looked around for something, anything.

You were in complete darkness, but your body stood tall and seemingly healthy, no sign of any kind of wound.

A dull, yellow light shone in the distance. Cautiously, you took a step forward and it was only then that you knew where you were.

Under your feet, which were devoid of any shoes or socks, wet leaves crunched under your weight and you found yourself, yet again, standing in front of the Hale house.

It looked how it usually did, sad and decolate. However, what was unusual was that dull light shining through one of the partially melted windows.

Humming sounded from the home, hitting your ears in perfect pitch. It brought a wave of calmness over you, tranquilizing your fears as you twisted the knob that had once sent you into a horrific shock.

The rotten hardwood cooled your feet as you shuffled thoughtlessly through the house which you used to view as a home away from home.

“You put up a great fight.” A deep voice spoke from inside the lit room.

The voice was unmistakable, but you knew that there was only one explanation for why you were hearing it. For as long as you could, you wanted to hold onto your naivety.

“Who's there?” You called in response while small steps carried you closer and closer to the room.

The voice let out a chuckle, “I think you already know.”

Finally, you arrived in the room. Confronting the voice you knew all too well.

“Good to see you again, sweetheart.” You saw his face then, standing charred and battered like a fallen angel was Peter Hale.

The sob that fell from you was impossible to stop, you didn’t waste another second, you threw yourself at the man in front of you. A teary smile found your face when he welcomed you with open arms, his arms wrapped tightly around you as you cried into his shoulder.

“Quiet now, no more tears.” He said, pulling away from you, his thumb brushing under your eye gently, sweeping the falling teardrops away.

With a sniffle you looked at your surroundings before returning your gaze to Peter, “Am I dead?” You asked meekly.

Oddly enough, you felt accepting of it. Liked it, almost. It was quiet here- wherever here was.

“Temporarily.” He answered, guiding you further into the room. It had a single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling and two wooden chairs sat vacant underneath it. “Have a seat.”

Doing as told, you sat down on the chair opposite Peter. “Where are we?” You questioned, the silence, although peaceful, was overwhelming.

Peter gave you a small grin, gesturing to the room around you, “Purgatory.” He answered simply.

He stared at you then, a look in his eyes you recognised but, for the first time since you’d turned, you couldn’t feel it. It was something akin to sadness. It held love too, though.

“The next part is the hardest. When you wake up you won’t have a clue how you got there. You’ll be starving and all you’ll want to do is start tearing people apart.” He explained and your stomach dropped.

You were going to wake up and complete the transition, you’d be a fully fledged vampire and all because of some stupid knife wound.

“I won’t remember being dead?”

Peter shook his head, “You’ll remember this part, not the actual passing over part though.”

A tear slipped from your eye and you forced yourself to take in a shaky breath, “Passing over to where?”

Peter shrugged, “Don’t know. I’ve never gotten that far; too much unfinished business.” He tried to lighten the mood, but he realised there was no use as he noticed your breathing pick up and your eyes fill with tears yet again.

“You’re strong, you’ll be perfectly fine. You are my beta, after all.” He soothed, moving his chair so it would be next to yours.

You let out a croaky laugh at that, “I haven’t been strong. I’ve been drowning ever since you bit me, I haven’t done much other than fight with myself.”

“Not true. I’ve been keeping an eye on you. Keeping Derek under control is a job not everyone is up for, but you’re doing it like it’s nothing. Although, you’d be doing a lot better if I had gotten to you before Derek ripped by throat out.” He muttered the last part, obviously not happy with your trip to Mystic Falls.

“Damon told me you used to drink together.” You recalled with a smile, distracting yourself from the future of impending darkness.

Peter laughed at the memory but didn’t speak.

The dense silence returned, not for long though, distantly you heard shouts. They were more like pleads really. Or were they screams?

“Y/n! Can you hear me? Y/n! Y/n!”

Softly, you turned your head towards the doorway, the hallway light was turned on now too, “Someone’s calling me.”

Peter stood up, a heavy grief filled sigh falling from him as he offered you his hand and pulled you to your feet when you took it. “It’s almost time. But not just yet, there's one last thing you need to do.”

“What is it?” You asked, not sure if you wanted to know the answer.

Peter pulled you close, placed a kiss to the top of your head then began guiding you, arm tightly wrapped around your shoulder.

He answered you solemnly, blue eyes sparkling with unwanted wisdom, “You have to say goodbye.”

#isaac lahey x reader #isaac lahey #teen wolf x reader #derek hale x reader #stiles stilinski x reader #scott mccall x reader #peter hale x reader #derek hale #stiles stilinski #scott mccall #peter hale #folklore i.l

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julemmaes · 4 years

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Can you write more of the Nessian modern au where they have 5 kids plz?

Prompt ideas:

They go camping

Ezra goes on his first date

One of the kids (probably like Cal or Celia) feels like their parents done love them as much as they love the others / that they don’t get as much attention as they others

Obv u don’t need to use any of these prompts if u don’t want to, these are just some ideas

I loved your fic !!!

I Love You

Set in this universe, Nessian fourth child feels like she’s isn’t given the same amount of love her parents are showing her siblings and after a particularly bad day goes by, she bursts.

A/N: The ages: Ezra (23), Cal (19), Nora (14), Celia (12) and Andra (10). Nate is (18) and Iria (Emerie and Azriel’s firstborn) is (13).

It was hard to write this one, cause if one of my children came to me like this, telling me what Celia is going to say, I would probably kill myself you know. Hate these situations:(

Also, I’m definitely gonna write the other two too, cause they’re interesting and I think you all want to read about Ezra’s first date. So don’t worry, we’ll see them camping and struggling with love some more!

Enjoy!

Word count: 4,370

"Cal, can you help me with my homework?" asked Celia as she entered the boys room.

Her brother didn't even spare her a glance, waving a hand in mid-air, "I can't right now Cece, I'm playing with Nate and I can't pause, sorry." then burst out laughing at something his cousin had said to him through his earbuds. He cast her a quick glance over his shoulder, "Maybe when I finish."

The girl huffed, muttering a don't worry and closed the door behind her. She walked down the hallway, towards her room and Nora's. She didn't bother knocking, but froze in the doorway, staring at her sister with hopeful eyes. She knew she wouldn't find help there either when she heard her say Iria's name into the phone's microphone.

She could feel that she might be about to let out a scream of frustration.

She was about to leave the room when Nora noticed her, "Iria wait a second," she put a hand on the phone, smiling at Celia, "Do you want anything? I can leave the room if you need to study in silence," she offered her.

Celia shook her head, "I can't do this geometry problem." she said furrowing her brow as she looked at the strange figure on the sheet her math teacher had assigned her. She looked up at Nora and she had a bored look on her face. Celia had confirmation of what she had thought as soon as she walked in. Before her sister could find an excuse to escape that task, she smiled and said, "Don't worry, I'll do it myself."

Nora didn't even try to retort and resumed talking to her cousin, yelling at Celia to close the door when she left.

"Yeah, I'll close the door for you," she muttered to herself.

She didn't want to go to her mom and ask for help with her homework because she knew it would end with one of them yelling, but she had no other choice. Huffing for the millionth time, she headed downstairs, mentally ready to face an intense math session with her mom.

When she entered the kitchen, Nesta was leaning on her chair with her knees and half lying on the table, holding a yellow pencil and coloring one of the suns on Andra's exercise book.

Her sister was the first to see her, "Hi." she said in a flat tone.

Celia snickered, thinking "we're in the same boat sis". Doing homework with mom had always been tiring, whether it was math to solve or simple drawings to color, Nesta had the ability to squeeze their little brains to their last nerve.

Cassian had always told them that one day they would thank her, but Celia hadn't reached that moment yet. She was sure Ezra, who was finishing college, hadn't thanked her yet either for making him maintain that level of consistency in his studies.

"Mom," she called hesitantly, "could you help me with this problem?"

Andra glared at her, frowning, "She's helping me."

Celia knew she didn't mean it in a bad way, she knew she was probably just as tired as she was at that moment. After all, it was seven o'clock on a Sunday night for everyone, and if Andra had found herself finishing studying so late too, it was because she too had been given too much homework. She ignored her, waiting for Nesta to speak.

When he didn't answer her, Celia pushed with more annoyance in her voice, "Mom."

Nesta's head snapped toward her, and even this time, Celia knew the answer would be no. The weariness clear in her features. Nesta closed her eyes, scratching a temple with the tip of her pencil, "Can't you ask one of your siblings?"

"Nora and Cal are busy," she let her know, "I don't know where Ezra is."

Andra pointed her to the back door, "He's out with Dad, they're working in the gazebo."

Celia nodded, "Thank you." Nesta gave her a tired smile and then went back to coloring in the sun.

She clutched the book and notebook to her chest as she pushed the door open and the cold outside made her shiver. She could hear the hoarse laughter and low voices of her dad and brother, but she couldn't see them anywhere.

She stepped barefoot into the grass and wiggled her fingers through the blades of grass and then there was silence and Celia was suddenly afraid. If she turned around she could see Nesta and Andra at the table, but in front of her there was only darkness and silence, until a loud bang came from the gazebo and then she heard Cassian cursing, before Ezra burst out laughing.

She grinned, tiptoeing towards the two men.

As soon as she moved the curtain that was the door to the gazebo, a dart flew past her head and she jumped back, eyes wide. She felt her heart in her throat.

"Celia!" had shouted Ezra, sprinting toward her. His eyes, too, were full of fear and he had grabbed her by the arms. Cassian immediately behind him stroked her hair, checking to make sure he hadn't poked her in the face. They both let go a breath of relief when they saw that she was okay.

"Cutie you have to be careful when you come in here, you know that," her dad told her with a carefree smile on his face, "If I caught you, mommy would skin me alive."

All three cackled, Ezra pulling himself up and removing the darts from the board.

"Did you need anything?" asked Cassian.

Celia nodded, remembering the real reason she had gone there, "I can't do this problem-" she started to open the notebook, but Ezra interrupted her.

"Dad and I are just finishing up fixing this actually," he told her with a apologetic grimace, "Could you wait a half hour?"

Celia looked at Cassian hopefully, but her dad was already back handling tools and nails.

She turned to her brother, "But you were playing darts." she said impassively.

Ezra shrugged, "We were just taking a few minutes off, we've been working for hours." then turned to Dad, "Where's the wire?"

Cassian pointed to a spot on the other side of the gazebo and Celia took that gesture as her cue to leave them alone again.

"Nevermind." she whispered, closing the notebook and leaving the gazebo.

She eyed the table at which they ate breakfast every summer morning, thinking that if she started studying there maybe she would die of hypothermia and finally someone would deign to help her. Laughing at how extra she could be at times, she walked back into the house, passing her mom and Andra in silence and heading back to Cal's room. She was going to wait for him to finish the game and then force him to solve the problem for her.

She threw open the door and Cal let out a shriek, startling her.

"God, Cece you scared the shit out of me." he breathed, bringing a hand to his chest, finishing pulling on his pants.

Celia furrowed her brow, "Weren't you playing with Nate?"

Cal nodded absentmindedly, looking around, "See my wallet?"

She pointed it out to him. "Where are you going? You said you'd help me," she said in a whiny tone.

"I said maybe," he smiled slyly at her, "and Raina called me and I'm spending the night at her place." with that he turned and opened the drawer, pulling out two aluminum foil envelopes. As soon as Celia realized what they were, she brought her hands to her eyes.

"Gee," she sighed, then turned around shaking her head, "I didn't need to see that."

Without looking at him, she raised a hand, smiling tightly at the empty space in front of her, "See you tomorrow, have fun."

Cal chuckled as he walked past her and darted down the stairs, "Sure will. See you tomorrow."

Celia shook her head again and then again, trying to erase the image of- she walked back down the hall, opening up the door to her room.

Nora in a completely different position was still talking on the phone and when she saw her she rolled her eyes, telling Iria to wait yet again. She turned on her stomach, raising an eyebrow, "What is it?"

Why is everyone so grumpy today?

Celia was fed up with that attitude and raised her arms to the sky, "Nothing, whatever."

Then they stared at each other for a few seconds and Nora nodded her chin, "Could you please go out? I'm talking to Iria on the phone and-"

"This is my room, too," Celia retorted, pointing out the obvious.

Nora huffed, leaning her head back, "Yes and I'm asking if I can please talk to our cousin in private."

Celia was getting even more nervous. "If you would help me with this problem I could go mind my own business in the living room and I wouldn't have to bother you every five minutes anymore."

Nora stood up, grabbing her by the arm and pushing her out of the room, "I'll help you when I'm done talking on the phone."

Celia didn't even have time to realize that her sister had literally just thrown her out of the room that the door behind her had already been closed. She wanted to go back in and throw herself at Nora and work it out the way they used to work it out when they were kids, when they could still hit each other if they fought - not that their parents ever let them go beyond the first slap or hair pull.

She walked into the bathroom in the middle of their rooms to see where Cassian and Ezra stood, but from the second floor it was impossible to see inside the gazebo.

She went to Andra's room so she wouldn't risk running into condom wrappers and having to breathe the testosterone-smelling air of her brothers' room and sat down on the bed. She opened the notebook on her lap, rereading the problem statement aloud.

"A rectangular parallelepiped has basic dimensions that measure-" then she stopped.

It was pointless. She couldn't figure out what formulas to apply to calculate what was asked of her in the fourth question. Rereading the text wasn't going to help.

She brought her hands to her hair.

Why is this so hard?

She heard Nora laughing down the hall and felt anger sizzle under her skin.

Ever since she'd gotten the phone for her fourteenth birthday, there hadn't been a night that was one in which she hadn't called Iria. And it had only been a few months since she'd started high school, but Celia didn't understand how those two things had managed to change her sister like that.

She knew Nora still cared about her, but it was getting harder and harder to spend time with her, and Cal was always out with Raina and the twins and it was possible that she didn't see him for days at a time. Although that last part had become an occurrence in recent years.

Nesta had explained to her that it was normal, that they were just growing up and there was nothing to worry about, that they'd get closer once she got older too, but it had hurt Celia to lose Cal in many ways and now she was just scared that the same thing would happen with Nora.

She had nothing against spending her free time with Andra, but she was still little and still liked to play with dolls and Celia would rather hang herself than pretend to be a Doctor Peluche one more time.

She chuckled again this time, imagining herself announcing her death to her parents after her little sister asked her to play.

Then she heard Andra scream with happiness and run up the stairs. She was just in time to get out of the bed and out of the room that her sister was at the top of the stairs.

"I finished my homework!" she yelled, balling up her fists in the air.

Celia smiled at her, "Great."

Then Andra sagged, "Now I'm going to go take a victory nap."

"You've earned it." she walked past her as she yawned and headed down the stairs two steps at a time.

"Mom!" she called skipping the last three, "Can you help me now?"

Nesta made a frustrated sound, turning to her with a bag of frozen green beans in her hand.

"I just finished with Andra, is there any way we could think about this after dinner?"

Celia was about to start crying, but nodded anyway. She went into the living room when her mom resumed cooking, turning on the TV and putting on a channel where they showed how food is made.

When her dad and Ezra came back into the house they were so dirty that Nesta sent them straight to get washed up with the threat of not letting them sit down if they didn't smell flowery and clean.

Celia would have gone along with her mom, adding a sassy retort to make it even more dramatic, but at that moment she couldn't speak.

Cassian had passed behind the couch to go to the bathroom and shower, ruffling her hair and leaving a kiss on her head.

Even there, Celia didn't respond or say any "I love you too" back.

She didn't realize until a few minutes later that she wasn't really watching the show, and when she felt she was about to start crying - from too much accumulated stress and frustration throughout the day - she decided she needed to find a place where she could blow off steam.

Her room was apparently off-limits, Andra's was occupied and she couldn't hide in either her parents' or her brothers' room because both Ezra and her dad would go there to get dressed after their showers.

This only added to all the bad things of the day and on top of all the crap, she knew her mom was going to go to sleep right after dinner. When Nesta was this tired there was no way she was going to be able to stay up a minute longer and even if she could convince her it would just be hell.

Doing math with a calm and rested Nesta was already a nightmare on its own, she didn't want to think about what it would be like to do it with a cranky and tired Nesta.

She silently opened the door that led into the tavern, where the brothers normally spent their Saturday nights with their cousins and friends. The girls still weren't allowed to go down there when everyone was there, and Celia was looking forward to high school so she would get a free pass to attend their nights.

That is, if they would accept her.

She closed the door carefully behind her and ran down the stairs, turning on the light first.

She threw herself on the couch and then hugged her legs, sobbing once. And then again and again until a liberating cry was wracking her body.

She didn't know if it was just the math assignment she couldn't do or if it bothered her to see how much everyone didn't need her at that moment. Andra had mom and Ezra had dad and Nora and Cal had their respective friends and Celia… she felt so lonely right then.

She sobbed particularly loudly and clamped her mouth shut with her hand when she heard her father's footsteps pass by the tavern door. She didn't want him to hear her, it would worry him for nothing.

Yes, it was just because she couldn't get a stupid math problem right. She was overreacting.

She didn't need her parents. Or her brothers.

Or her sister for that matter.

She was sure all of her classmates were getting the exercise done.

She loosened her arms from around her legs and lay down on the couch, closing her eyes and clutching one of the pillows to her chest. It had a vague earthy smell to it, but it smelled like Cal too, and it angered the girl even more as she grabbed a corner of the pillow and threw it across the room, yelling not too loudly.

She didn't know how long she'd been down there, but when Nesta called the family to let them know dinner was ready, Celia sprang to her feet. She pulled the sleeves of her shirt over her hands and ran them over her face to remove the residue of the crying in frantic movements.

She took three deep breaths and then walked slowly up the stair

s. She opened the door just as Ezra walked into the living room and their eyes met.

She immediately lowered her head, so he wouldn't see her face, but her brother put a hand on her shoulder, "Lia..." the silent request to look at him clear as day.

"What?" she replied too surly. She cursed in her head when she noticed her brother stiffen. It was as if she could see his surprised expression.

So much for playing dumb.

"Are you okay?" he asked, then squeezed her shoulder, "Why were you downstairs?"

She moved to escape his grasp, then ran a hand over her face, huffing, "I was looking for something." she replied evasively, trying to make her way to the kitchen. Ezra grabbed her wrist, spinning her around, at which point Celia was forced to look at him.

Ezra had a conflicted expression, somewhere between angry and worried, "What happened? Why are you crying?" he asked, in a tone that didn't allow for a non-answer.

Celia remained silent, her brows knitted in a frown as she tried to swallow the knot that was forming in her throat.

Perhaps he had spoken too loudly, because Cassian's figure appeared in the kitchen doorway, "Who's crying?"

Celia looked towards her dad and it only took a second of seeing him for the crying to return, only harder.

Cassian's face turned completely as he moved Ezra from in front of his daughter and hugged her, lifting her off the ground. Celia wrapped her arms around her father's neck, hiding her face between the crook of his neck and his shoulder, and only sobbed louder as Cassian's hand began massaging her back in circular motions.

She didn't care if she would be thirteen in a few weeks. She didn't care that her father was rocking her like he used to when she was little, she just wanted him to hold her close.

She wrapped her legs around her dad's waist and heard Cassian take a shaky breath, "Ezra why don't you go ahead? We'll be right there."

Celia didn't see or hear her brother's response, but she was grateful to her dad when he moved to the couch, settling down and bringing her to him. She pressed herself tighter against him.

"Lia, what happened?" he whispered in her ear. This only made her sob more loudly, "Ssh, cutie," he murmured as the little girl's breathing became more erratic, "It's okay."

"Celia." her mom's voice made her sit up and Nesta was there, who with only a few steps was behind the couch. She'd seen Andra and Nora's heads pop up from the kitchen as well, but Ezra had called them back and they were gone immediately.

Nesta took a seat next to Cassian, her arms outstretched toward her daughter, but her gaze fixed on her husband's. Celia launched herself at her mother, but kept an arm around her father's neck and Cassian took her hand, squeezing it in his.

The child's tears had soaked his pajama shirt and Nesta's chest tightened. She brushed Celia's hair until she had a clear view of her daughter's face, "What's wrong?"

"I have-" she sobbed, "I had to solve a problem and I couldn't and no one-" every breath she tried to take was broken by a sob. She sniffled, "And then Nora kicked me out of the room and Cal- Cal didn't want to help me and he left and you were-" she ran the hand that wasn't clasped in Cassian's over her face, "You were helping Andra." then she turned to her dad and started crying again, "And then you and Ezra sent me away."

Nesta felt tremendous guilt and was about to apologize to her, for ignoring her, but then Celia said something that completely broke her heart.

"You don't love me like you do the others," she sobbed into her mom's chest.

"Oh, Lia." murmured Cassian, in a hurt tone. He slipped a hand between Nesta and his daughter's stomach and pulled her away from her mother, forcing the woman's arms off Celia.

Cassian sat her back down on his lap and looked into her eyes, leaning down just enough to be at the same height as her. His brow was furrowed and she could see how upset those few words had made him.

"That's absolutely not true." he whispered in a firm tone, watching the redness of his little girl's face, the tears that continued to fall undisturbed.

Nesta stroked her hair, "Your father is right." she added.

"You are all on exactly the same level. There's no such thing as loving one child more than the other," he repeated, "It's not possible."

Celia took more shaky breaths, struggling to speak, "Cal and Nora hate me now."

Nesta felt bad for her little girl. She didn't dare imagine how long she had kept those doubts to herself, couldn't imagine how she could think those things. How she had let one of her children feel that way without even noticing.

"Cal could never hate you and you know it. He loves you too much. Exactly like me and Mom and Nora too, even though it might not seem like it." said Cassian. Then he ran a thumb under her eyes, wiping her cheeks. "I'm sorry if we made you feel left out today, that wasn't our intention, okay?"

Celia nodded, but resumed crying.

"We're a family, we all love each other so much, but we're also numerous," Nesta tried to explain, "It may happen sometimes that no one is available to help you at that moment, but that doesn't mean they don't love you or care about you less than the day before."

Cassian squeezed her hips, "Why didn't you tell us this before?" he asked her, later clarifying, "That you were feeling this way."

Celia shrugged, resting her hands on her daddy's chest, just as she did when she was little.

"I don't want it to get to a point where you can't hold back anymore and you have to hide to cry, okay?" said Cassian to her. Nesta looked at him and saw that his eyes were glazed over. She placed a hand on his leg, but the man's attention didn't shift from his daughter's face. "If you feel that Mama and I and anyone in this house are misbehaving with you, you come tell us and we'll talk about it, without the need to yell at each other and fight." he gave her a hesitant smile. Then he wrapped her up and pulled her against him, kissing her temple, "Please don't think I love you any less just because I'm a stupid, clueless big man who can't manage his time optimally, okay?"

Celia nodded against his neck, starting to play with the end of his hair strands.

"And I'm sorry if I made you think that for even a second," he closed his eyes as he whispered those words to her.

"I love you dad." said Celia in a muffled voice.

Cassian held her tighter to his chest, "I love you cutie."

Nesta cleared her throat, laying a hand on her daughter's back, "I'm sorry if I didn't pay enough attention to you today too and if I sent you out of the kitchen," she murmured, urging her to look at her. Celia broke away from Cassian, getting off his lap and launching herself at her mother, who caught her and stifled a laugh at the sudden weight.

God, she was growing up so fast, too.

"I love you, Lia." she whispered to her, "Don't ever doubt that, please."

"I love you mom."

They stayed rocking their baby girl for a few more minutes, then Cassian made a joke about the food that was getting cold in their plates, and all three of them got up from the couch and walked into a particularly quiet kitchen.

Nesta took a seat next to Andra and kissed her forehead as she took a green bean from the serving plate with her small hand.

Cassian glanced at all his children present and blew out a cough, "Maybe we should talk about eavesdropping as well."

Ezra turned to Celia, who was wiping her face with her napkin despite the fact that it was already dry, "Sorry for making you feel that way." he smiled at her, "I love you."

Celia nodded, focusing on her food.

"I want to apologize too," Nora said more softly, playing with the edge of the tablecloth. "I shouldn't have kicked you out of the room like that, and if you want to later I'll help you with the problem."

Her sister looked at her and opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again, "I would love to."

"Sorry." said Andra, with a rather cute frown on her face. She probably didn't quite understand what had happened, but Celia appreciated either way. Even as she gave her the widest smile as she said, "I love you."

Celia looked at everyone at the table, swallowing noisily, "I love you."

She would talk to Cal another time.

They ate between jokes and pranks and after dinner they all jumped on their parents' bed, cuddling until they all fell asleep there. Cassian and Nesta were forced to give up their room for the night, taking refuge in the guest room instead, but not before showing their children how much infinite love they felt for each of them.

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127 notes · View notes

aelin-queen-of-terrasen · 4 years

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𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐭 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

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The day after the dinner party in the late afternoon, Celaena was whiling her time away by flipping through the pages of the latest monthly issue of the fashion magazine La Belle Assemblée when she recieved a note of invitation from Lady Towper, one of her recent acquaintances, to a walk in Hyde Park later that afternoon with her and Mrs Burnwell, another society lady Celaena had befriended. The wording made it quite clear it was more a summons than an invitation and having spent the morning by herself, Celaena was eager enough for company that she happily put down her magazine and called for her pelisse and outerwear with alacrity. Twenty minutes later she was roaming around the park when Lady Towper spotted her, gliding across the path—there really was no other way to describe her graceful movement—with an elegant swish of her skirts and a look of exaggerated distress on her countenance, followed by Mrs Burnwell who looked rather piqued. "Dear Miss Sardothein," cried the former, looping an arm around hers. "How glad I was to hear you accepted my invitation. I wanted to take a walk around the park, refresh myself and Mrs Burnwell recalled you were rather fond of exercise and suggested we take you along with us."

Celaena rather thought that on a fine weather such as this, the ladies' primary motive for a walk was perhaps to see and be seen by the upper ten-thousands of the ton, most of which had returned from their summer estates for the social season which was to start soon but said instead, "I am grateful for the invitation. Your Ladyship has quite rescued me from certain death at the hands of boredom."

The ladies tittered politely, protesting that it was no great sacrifice on their part and the trio walked along the paths making light conversation until Mrs Burnwell jerked to a halt with a pinched expression. "Mrs Whitethorn."

Though Celaena had only met the lady once, she had been left unimpressed and could not fault Mrs Burnwell for looking piqued.

Mrs Whitethorn did not improve on a second meeting - not that Celaena had had any expectations that she would - and participated as much in the conversation with as much fervor as a lifeless statue, making occasional noises of agreement and dissent. Celaena who prided herself on being able to draw someone out of their reserve met with failure at every turn and it was not long before the ladies ran out of polite remarks to exchange and their party took their leave. Celaena spotted a group of children from her neighborhood racing each other in a less scenic path around the park and soon abandoned all sorts of decorum to join in on the shouting.

"FASTER, TOM! FASTER, YES, A LITTLE FASTER!" cheered Celaena, bouncing up and down in excitement.

Her cheeks were flushed with exertion and her petticoats muddier than usual. She let out a high-pitched noise when little Thomas reached the finishing line and beamed. "I did it, I did it, I said I would, did I not? Oh, Cece, did you see me? I won!"

"You did very well, dear," said she, kissing his cheek. The smug look he sent his siblings' way had her struggling not to laugh.

"Yes, you won this time—" said his eldest brother in an arrogant tone, "—but I shall be the winner next time. Shall we play something else now?"

"Hide and seek!"

"Hopscotch."

"No! We must play cops and robbers today. You promised!"

"I want to play tag."

"We don't," said the twins simultaneously.

"Then blind man's buff?"

"I suppose we could—"

"Oh, no, I will not play that ever again."

Celaena smiled, watching the children argue over what they wished to do and looked at two children - presumably brothers - finely dressed and staring at the brood of children she was so fond of wistfully. "Here, you two, why don't you play?" asked she.

The younger boy beamed at the prospect but the elder looked uncertain.

He glanced over his shoulder anxiously biting his lip. "Oh, no, mama will be furious if we get our clothes dirty." But he looked at the noisy little children with such longing and he looked so serious in general with those deep blue eyes filled with sorrow and the brows that remained creased as if by default—more serious than a nine-year-old should be; he held himself with a ridiculous amount of poise, posture stiff and yet looked unsure of every little movement or sound he made, Celaena had a whimsical desire to have him enjoy himself.

"I shall tell you a secret," she gave him a conspiratorial wink. "It is healthy to disobey your parents once in a while."

The poor boy looked scandalized at the thought of disobeying anyone. When had he last had some fun? she wondered.

He looked at the boys again, then at his boots, properly polished and finely made, then straightened as if he had come to a decision. "I-I thank you, miss, but my brother and I shall take your leave now." The formal tone so became him, she was struck by the intelligence in his expression and the confidence of his words despite the apprehension evident in his posture. He continued in a softer tone, "Mama says it is not proper to talk to anyone without being introduced."

"Then perhaps we might perform the service ourselves since no one else can? I am Miss Celaena Sardothein of Raven Hall in Derbyshire." She curtsied formally, suppressing a smile.

"Oh." He looked down at his feet.

Celaena took pity on him and smiled. "It's alright, I shan't force you into anything. You are a good boy, dear, to obey your parents so." He looked so surprised, and blushed all kinds of red, though his chest did puff out a little. When had someone last praised him? Knowing there was no more she could do, Celaena was about to bid the child a farewell when a familiar figure rounded the corner.

"Papa!" cried the little boy, latching onto his father's leg.

Mr Whitethorn patted his head and gently freed himself to step forward. "Stephen, what have I told you about talking to—Miss Sardothein!" He jerked to a stop, then recalling himself, bowed to her. "I cannot say how surprised I am to see you."

"Are you really, sir?" asked she. "You know me to be unconventional. This is exactly the kind of place you should expect to find me in." She nodded towards the elder boy who looked vastly relieved to have someone else do the talking on his behalf and the younger who clung to his father for attention, bouncing on his toes. "These fine young gentlemen are your sons?"

He confirmed that they were.

"Perhaps you and your sons could join us for a while?" Both boys looked excited for such a prospect though one was more successful at hiding it than the other.

"Please papa?" asked the five-year-old.

Mr Whitethorn rolled his eyes fondly. "After recieving that look, I should not dare refuse."

The child hugged his father tightly, then ran towards the group of boys. They accepted him immediately, having settled on the blind man's bluff finally and noisily took up positions, directing and misdirecting the child with the blindfold.

His elder brother looked lost standing by the side. He looked down at his hands. "...And he has run off already."

"Why don't you join him?" she nudged gently. I know they will be happy to include you."

Stephen swallowed, looking at his father who had a neutral face on and turned to her. "I thank you, but no—" then at her stern look, he admitted, "I, I won't know what to say to them."

"Just say you want to play."

"But surely, I don't, oh, I am fine here."

Celaena signalled for him to offer her an arm and escort her there. When he refused, she said, "You know it is not gentlemanly to refuse to escort a lady somewhere, do you not?"

Stephen huffed but gave in.

Shs clapped to get everyone's attention. "This is Master Stephen Whitethorn and that—" she nodded towards the younger, "—is his younger brother, Master..."

"Charles," the boy happily supplied.

"Right. Master Charles Whitethorn." The boy grinned toothily. "Be nice to them."

Stephen blushed at the attention, standing stiffly as one by one the boys spoke their names. He half expected them to call him names like wuss or a dreadful bore like his cousins and friends always did but no one did. In fact, as long as he played well, no one cared how loud he shrieked or how often he stumbled on the tree roots or how dirty he had gotten. As every minute passed, he relaxed some more until he was laughing and jumping along with the others with no care for his clothes or boots which were already ruined. Mama would have his head if she found out, yes, and she would scold him until his ears bled but was not all this fun worth it? How often did he have such a chance? He looked back at the spot where his father stood beside the woman—Miss Sardothein—and noticed she was watching him. He rolled his eyes when she mouthed 'you are welcome' but could not help the smile that followed after.

"Poor boy," Celaena sighed to herself. "He is too shy, and he feels inferior to his brother."

Mr Whitethorn said, "He is wise beyond his years. I do not know what to do with him sometimes." He looked down at his feet, a gesture she recognised as evident in his eldest son. "You sound like one talking with experience but I cannot imagine you being shy at all." The concern expressed on his face touched her deeply and she had the strangest urge to smooth the wrinkles away from his forehead.

"I should imagine not." She chuckled. "Eleanor, my adoptive sister is very shy—not like your son, mind—but I have seen firsthand her longing to join in on the fun and her hesitance to act on it."

They watched the children play and he chuckled. "Their mother will have a fit if she finds them so muddied."

"Their mother," said Celaena, barely restraining herself from snorting. "I do not think your wife likes me, sir."

"I think that is a point in your favor, Miss Sardothein," he replied dryly, though his lips twitched. Had she paid more attention to her dance partners the evening of the Thorpe's ball or less occupied with Lord Fenrys' veiled hints, trying to figure out the meaning behind his pointed commentary and the suspicious dinner invitation she had accepted out of curiosity, she would not have been surprised by how handsome he looked. But indeed, occupied as she had been on the previous occassions, it was not until he smiled a little that she was taken completely by how well the expression of fondness became him, how his features so perfectly formed, looked more beautiful and pleasing than ever. She gasped at how beautifully his green eyes sparkled when he stood just so, with the sunlight shining in them and how gracefully he carried himself with a hint of pride that was not unbecoming on his noble mein. If at that moment he had told her he was a prince from the fairytales, she would have easily believed him.

"Are you well, Miss Sardothein?"

Celaena flushed bright red with mortification. "Oh, yes," she breathed out. She spent the better part of their afternoon walk attempting to squash the flutter in stomach by conjuring a confused, miserable Mrs Whitethorn waiting for her husband to return home. The trick did not work as well as she had hoped and when the sun started its descent, she was grateful to be able to part with some measure of equinanimity.

"You met who at a dinner party?" asked Lord Rhoe incredulously for the fifth time.

"Aelin." Seated across from his father in his private study and being the current object of the Earl's ire, James felt like the nine-year-old recieving a lecture from his father over one mischief or another when Rhoe could be bothered enough to care about something more than his next meal or the port supply. He had retreated into his own world soon after they lost his little sister and neither brother was inclined to give him more courtesy or respect than what was his due as a father. James felt he would have been perfectly justified in not informing his father of this discovery but he felt an uncharacteristic anxiety about her visit and was not inclined to risk her running into his ignorant father who would easily recognise her from afar. "Aelin was at the Thorpe's ball, the one my cousin and I attended recently, though we were not introduced. Fenrys ran into her at a nearby bookstore the other day and recognised her. Though I was initially sceptical and asked my solicitor to launch several inquiries into the girl in question and her family, Fenrys convinced me to meet her once and I—" there were hardly enough words to explain himself on this and James fell silent.

Lord Rhoe looked his disbelief.

"I know you do not wish for false hopes, sir, but I would not have come if I was not sure."

"I grieve her still," said Rhoe at last in a tone of gruff affection, "—and I know how it feels to latch onto hope but it is insanity to claim this-this madness—"

"It is not madness."

"You are letting your sentiments rule over reason. Aelin is dead, boy," said he, "and you had better drop this."

James was in no mood to drop it but Rhoe was overcome by a fit of coughs and slumped into his armchair. James rushed to his father, not sure what he would do but there was something so wrong about seeing his ever stoic, ever impassive father reduced to a fit of helplessness - no matter how small - like a common fragile old man that disturbed him greatly. James rubbed his father's back and called for a maid.

Rhoe tried to speak but a hoarse whisper was all that came out.

A maid stood at the doorway while the other rushed inside, fetching a glass of water from the pitcher. Rhoe drank it slowly, allowing the coughs to slowly fade.

"Aelin died," he choked out.

"You don't know that," reminded James gently. He was hesitant to press more but James wanted to clear this first hurdle before she arrived.

"I saw—I saw her body." Rhoe closed his eyes shut as if he was trying to block out a vision. "There was a body. Her body."

"Aelin disappeared," corrected James. "You found a body and identified it as hers but what if-what if it wasn't?"

"The magistrate found her anklet near the body. It was her. I saw the anklet."

James snapped his mouth shut. He had been nine when his sister disappeared and what little he knew about it was pieced together from eavesdropped bits of conversations and accidental slips from his uncle and aunt between the years. The Earl of Narrowcreek all but banned talk about Aelin in his home and neither son mentioned her for fear of his temper until memories of childhood acquired a dreamlike quality in his mind.

"The other anklet?"

"They never found it," said Rhoe.

James tried to consider his words carefully but . "I am aware my story sound like wishful thinking but I have—sir, I would not have believed my cousin if I had not seen her. She looks like my sister but more than that, she is-she is what I always thought Aelin would grow up to be: witty, charming and-and so wickedly clever." His words were more passionate than rationally thought out now but his father looked unaffected. James blew out a breath. "I invited her here for dinner, father. I wish to make Miss Sardothein aware of my-my suspicions. Despite what you say, something tells me I am right. I know I am. If you change your mind by dinner, you are welcome to join us tonight."

He thought his words might cause his father to at least promise to come; instead Rhoe latched onto another part of his sentence. "Miss Celaena Sardothein?!"

"The very one."

"You cannot mean to invite a tradesman's daughter into my house!"

"She is your daughter, sir!" said James sharply, feeling himself losing his control. "I mean to tell her of her identity today and you will not dissuade me from it." So saying, he quit the study door and left, suddenly quite anxious for the upcoming visit.

Celaena felt strangely off-kilter looking at a house that was as familiar as it was strange as she was handed down the carriage by a footman. Her nerves hightened for some unfathomable reason and in an attempt to distract herself by looking around the foyer of the Galathynius Townhouse, which was very grand. In the pride of the place stood an elegant water fountain, around which she could imagine a noisy brood of children splashing in and out. The elegant structure captured her interest until she stepped inside, feeling a vague sense of deja vu though she could swear she had never seen such a fine house before in her life—surely she would remember it if she had? It was not a forgettable sight—she pushed her unease aside, squared her shoulders and allowed the butler to divest her of her cloak and gloves while a maid waited to escort her to drawing room. The old servant started at the sight of her before he hid his surprise with an impassive expression like a well-trained servant, efficiently performing his duties, though she did not miss the way his eyes flicked back to her face repeatedly. Having never been invited to a private dinner before, Celaena had no expectations from the evening but was nevertheless surprised to be ushered into a private study instead of the drawing room.

A man sat in his armchair in a posture more befitting a young gentleman than an old, wealthy peer, though the grey hair at the edges of his temples belied his age.

"Miss Sardothein," said he.

Lord Rhoe noticed her surprise at being addressed by her name and smiled strangely. "Your reputation precedes you, dear. You have the whole town in a tizzy and you have in twenty four hours coerced my son into issuing a dinner invitation that is quite improper; an unmarried lady dining with two bachelors? Huge scandals have been created on far less."

"Then I wonder at your son's reasoning, for he issued the invitation. I only accepted it."

The Earl shook his head. "I know his reasons but I wonder at yours."

"I was curious."

He raised an eyebrow but she did not offer more explanation than that. "By accepting his invitation, you are putting your reputation in jeopardy, and with it, my son's."

She dimpled. "I might argue he did that himself when he issued it."

"I told you—"

"No, I told you," said she, rising from her seat, "—I am here on invitation. If you wish me gone from your home, ask and I will. But I will not accept an interrogation."

"I demand respect, Miss Sardothein."

"I shall never give it for that reason alone. I could not respect you if I wanted, sir," said she defiantly, rising from her seat, "for you were decided against me before I even entered your house—you who valued the gossip's opinions, or was your prejudice because of the grave sin I committed in being raised by a tradesman?" Her eyes flashed with ire and her breaths came faster. The Earl noticed none of it, struck as he was by the image of another adolescent ages ago shouting at his own father in the very same place. Miss Sardothein was a little older, perhaps and her features were not as delicate and soft but there was no mistaking her. He had crossed swords with his wife's younger sister to recognise her ashryver eyes and the colouring—

"Evalin," he whispered.

Bloody Hell.

Celaena's eyebrows creased when the older man looked at her in shock, then collapsed into the armchair he had been occupying.

"Uncle Rhoe? I heard raised voices—good gods, Aelin! Whatever happened here?"

If either of them noticed what name Lord Fenrys had unintentionally called her and to which she had answered, neither gave any indication. "He was telling me I should not have come and I was-I was defending myself but then he was, he was shocked at something and he said a name—Evelyn or something similar. Then he just collapsed into the chair." Lord Fenrys quickly and efficiently took charge of the situation, pouring her some wine for some semblance of calm, sending for his cousin and a footman to escort His Lordship back to his chambers. Lord Fenrys and his cousin had apparently been waiting for her in the drawing room downstairs and were not aware of her arrival. He had come to fetch a book from the adjoining library to pass his time when he heard raised voices. This assured her to some degree that she was not unwanted in the house, however as it belonged to the master whom she had quite shocked into fainting with her poor manners, she was not sure how much longer she would be welcome and expressed her desire to leave.

Lord Fenrys said immediately, "Leave? Goodness—no, my cousin will be quite cross with me if I let you leave before he comes. Do feel free to look around."

She did look around, taking in the elegant but never ostentatious furniture and the wall patterns which, though pretty, looked rather outdated. The study was well-lit with wax candles but looked cozier than she would expect an Earl's private sanctuary to look like. Her attention was caught soon by a bookcase by the farthest wall—presumably his favourites—and was surprised she shared similar tastes in reading with a man who had in a few minutes embodied all the worst qualities of the aristocracy. She moved past that wall only to come face-to-face with an unexpected portrait. It's objects—a husband, wife and their three children—sat in a formal pose but the picture radiated contentment, happiness and affection. It was perhaps something in the way the refined, elegant woman stared adoringly up at her husband or the look of affection he in turn bestowed on his two sons and a daughter who looked by turns bemused, bored and awfully wicked.

Her stomach twisted uneasily looking at the eldest son. "That. Who is that?"

"Edward," answered he. "Viscount Layton is not much fond of society. By the way his expression darkened, she surmised there must be some rift in the family—

Edward.

Edward Galathynius.

Celaena felt her own disquiet increase. Where had she heard the name before?

She glanced quickly at her host's cousin who was rifling through the drawers and examined the painting more closely. The children and the woman looked a great deal similar in colouring and in their eyes which were turquoise—

Turquoise eyes ringed with gold.

"Miss Sardothein?" Fenrys asked.

"Yes, yes, forgive me, Lord Fenrys. I feel a little, a little warm. He, your cousin—cousins, that is," she corrected herself, "they have—their eyes are a very unusual colour," she lamely finished.

"The ashryver eyes, yes." His tone was flippant, as though he had not seen her eyes. "As rare as they are beautiful, won't you say?"

Her stomach plummeted. She wanted to go somewhere—anywhere else.

Celaena tried to leave the room, her skin feeling too hot. Her knees buckled.

"Aelin!" Mr Galathynius stood in the doorway with his eyes wide.

Aelin.

She tried to ignore the implications of all that being called that name entailed.

Mr Galathynius gently led her to a seat away from the fireplace. Her head spun and her palms felt sweaty. "Home," she croaked out, unable to make out her own words. "I want home." Her skin flushed even more, her palms grew sweaty and her clothes felt coarse against her body.

Ashryver eyes.

The fairest eyes, from legends old

Of brightest blue, ringed with gold

She shut her eyes closed, willing her hands to stop shaking. It didn't work. How did she know that? She couldn't have known that. She had never met these people before, had never seen this place.

She had not.

She could not have.

Aelin was my favourite cousin—you, uh, you remind me of her.

Aelin.

But how could it be?

Aelin died in a fire thirteen years ago, Fenrys had told her. When she was but five.

Arobynn brought her home and introduced her as an orphan the same year, the year she had turned six. Arobynn had found her as an orphan roaming the streets of London when she was five.

The dates matched.

The fire. A warehouse. Two men. A pistol. She tried to remember but came up short.

"Aelin," a voice gently called out.

"You are wrong," she insisted vehemently, "I am not, I am not your sister!" Her voice turned screeching. "I was—my family gave me up, they didn't want me. Arobynn saved me. He told me they didn't want me, he told me so himself."

Arobynn lies to everyone.

But he had never lied to her. To her, he had been honest as he should.

He would not.

"Shh, It's alright, Aelin." James scooted closer and talked in a gentle tone, wishing his elder brother was present to comfort her. Edward would have known how to calm her.

Edward always had.

"Don't call me that." She shook her head tearfully. "I am not Aelin. I am not."

James placed an arm on her shoulder cautiously. The gentle touch, the compassionate voice and the genuine concern almost undid her. "Aelin," said her brother—her brother, she thought with amazement that the words did not sound as strange as they should have—"I am sorry you found out this way. Indeed, there are a great many things we are not sure of but—but my father's reaction and your own confirms what I suspected."

"You told me she died." The words came out almost as an accusation.

"It is all speculation on my part, mind, but we were informed my sister died in a fire in a nearby warehouse. The owner was a rather genial fellow and my sister—you—were friends with the man's clerk. You were playing with Edward that day—that is our elder brother—and you broke your ankle. He went to fetch help from the manor house but by the time father was able to come, you were not there. The search parties could find no signs of you until the magistrate informed her of two bodies found in a nearby warehouse. The first a child, had near her an anklet we knew you wore that day and father thought—we all thought it was you. I do not know where you did go and how the anklet appeared there but—"

She frowned. "You think Arobynn abducted me for some nefarious purposes."

"Indeed not—"

"You do," she accused, looking away from the hurt in his ashryver eyes. "You think—you think he did that. But he did not. He would not do that to me."

"Aelin, I never—"

"He wouldn't!" Celaena sobbed hysterically. "And even if you do not, everyone else will. No one will believe this—this story of ours—your father, oh god, he doubted it! He thought me a fortune hunter and—and everyone will—"

"Father did not wish to hope only to be met with disappointment, dearest."

"I all but told my father to go to the devil," she said between sobs.

"And it is a darned good thing you did," said Lord Fenrys in a flippant tone. "Someone needed to take that old man down a few notches. Besides, I suspect when he wakes up, he will have his fair share of apologising to do."

Mr Galathynius hesitantly placed an arm around his sister's shoulder as though he expected her to pull away and run. But she was too exhausted to protest and too grateful to have something solid to hold onto while the earth shifted beneath her feet. Aelin buried her face in his chest, clutching at the lapels of his coat and James felt a tender affection towards this creature who was clever and witty in ballrooms, whose ire faded as easily as it was stoked and who went from one emotion to another to another in a few moments. If in that moment someone had told him he needed to fell a dragon in order to protect her, he would have happily taken the beast on with his sword. James had been too young to do anything but squabble with his little sister but he felt all the protective instincts of an elder brother now and the first stirrings of hope that his family might not be doomed to unhappiness forever after all.

Aelin pulled back and sniffed. "I am sorry, Mr Galathynius, I suppose—"

"It would please me greatly if you would call me by my first name, dearest." James wished again he had his brother with him. "I do not think father will be angry and even if he is, I hope you will not mind him too much. I sent an express to Edward the moment we returned from the dinner party. He will be here soon and he will be ecstatic. I know I am."

"I don't remember anything."

He shrugged helplessly. "It is to be expected, Aelin. You were only five."

"But Arobynn told me I was given away by my family to, to an orphanage. He found me on the streets."

Mr Galathy—James looked at her seriously, clutching her hands in his. "I don't know if he lied or not, Aelin, but know this: your family did not give you away—indeed, we have been miserable since you left us." He bit his lip, swallowed and asked, "Do you remember even a little bit of that day? You and Edward were playing outside, you broke your ankle and he came back to the house to fetch help. He was—"

"He told me to stay there," she whispered, tears rolling down her face. "I didn't."

"You were but five," said Fenrys in an attempt to soothe. "You could hardly be expected to listen to anyone." The siblings started in surprise, having forgotten his presence.

"Do you remember what happened after our brother left?" James prodded gently.

Celaena shook her head, eyes shut. She tried to remember the day on the field near the estate. A mud puddle. A fallen ribbon. Her anklet's weak clasp. Why are you alone here? A voice.

It was a man's voice.

He had promised to take her back. I will carry you home, come with me. Into the carriage, there. She had climbed into the carriage. Perhaps she knew the man? Surely she would not have climbed into a stranger's carriage?

You were but five.

She tried hard to concentrate but could not remember anything beyond that and she told her brother so.

"You need not force yourself to, but if you do remember anything more—"

"I will tell you," she agreed. "I always wanted an elder brother, you know?"

James Galathynius was an affectionate man and he itched to embrace his sister tightly, but restrained in fear of overdoing things. The last shreds of his reserve melted with her words and he pulled her close. His little sister. He wondered if there were sweeter words in the world. "I missed you so," he answered tearfully, "So did we all. Edward refused to look at pianofortes for months, they reminded him of you, he hardly ever comes to town and father so retreated into his study and there I was—Oh, Aelin, please don't leave again."

"I shan't," she promised.

"A gentleman's word?"

She raised an eyebrow. "I am a lady."

"It's the only kind of promise you didn't break when we were children. A gentleman's word?" She heard her own voice ask the question long ago. A vague memory.

Celaena smiled. "A gentleman's word."

Fenrys broke the moment, his eyes glimmering suspiciously. He sniffed. "Stop monopolizing her, cousin."

Celaena hesitantly rose from her seat, pressing a kiss against her cousin's cheek. "I know it's all a muddle still but thank you for finding me, Lord Fenrys." She smiled sweetly at him. "You told me Aelin was—that I was—your favourite cousin, did you not, Lord Fenrys?"

"You were—you are." He grinned. "Do stop with the lord business though—I am already determined we shall be the dearest of friends. We have always been alike in our dispositions."

"What he means," James grinned back, "is the both of you have always been utter rascals, making all our lives difficult."

"I don't know what you are talking about," huffed she with feigned indignation in her voice. "I am positively an angel."

"Oh, hardly!" Fenrys shook his head. "I never saw a more mischevious child. Aunt Meave swore you were the devil's spawn."

"Oh no," she said.

"Oh, yes." James grinned at a fond memory. "And I cannot blame her. You once sneaked a frog to her dinner table. It ended up in her plate somehow; it was horrific."

"Indeed, you scarred the poor woman," Fenrys quipped. "She specifically invites only adults ever since. James told us later how you twitched and groaned, shifting in your seat, trying to hide it in the folds of your dress."

Celaena narrowed her eyes. "If you knew, why did you not help?"

"I did not want to incur her wrath," he said. "Our father or brother would have protected you from her. I was on my own."

The remark brought her back to reality. "Father—Lord Rhoe—my goodness, I implied he was proud and arrogant and—and he fainted!" James hurried to assure her that he fainted occassionally and a physician had been sent for in any case and she should not worry overmuch about that but she could not help herself. However, not wanting to worry him more—the poor man was acting so casually as if expecting another fit of hysterics—she changed the subject to one she was curious about. "And Edward—you said he has been informed."

"If I know him at all, he will come running." Then, with due caution, "I know you don't remember a thing but Edward and you were particularly close—you filled buckets worth of tears when he left for Eton, you know? And when he came to visit for the summer or holidays and you were obliged to return to the nursery in the evenings, you threw such a royal fit until father allowed you to spend the nights in his room." By the tone with which he said it, Celaena rather thought it cost him something to admit this to her and she thought she heard a touch of envy in those words.

"It was perhaps not proper," agreed Fenrys, "but you would not eat or drink and he was forced to acquiese."

Celaena laughed. "That does sound like me." Then, sobering, "I should not—it's too late, I think I should return home."

"Home?"

Celaena amended with a smile, "Well, not my home, then. But I could not move here today, not with Lord Rhoe so—"

"Father will not object," said he, with conviction. "This is your home as much as it is mine or his. I am sure Edward will be furious with me if I let you leave." Then, noticing her reluctance, he gently smiled. "I understand you will need to get used to reality and I really would like it if you stayed but if you cannot—"

"Oh, no," said she, interrupting him. "I will—I will stay if you send a note to the Rhunns informing them where I am and if my maid and a few of my clothes can be brought—Elide, my maid, she will know what to bring—then I shall stay."

This was agreed to with alacrity and orders sent to prepare one of the finest guest rooms for temporary occupation. James noticed her pale countenance and offered to send a dinner tray to her rooms in a half hour if she would like to retire early. After they were informed that Lord Rhoe had been given laudanum to calm himself and would see them in the morning, there was nothing left for her to do and she accepted her brother's offer happily. Celaena thought she would not be able to sleep for hours, ruminating on the eventful day but the overwhelming emotions of the overdeal caught up with her and she was asleep before dinner arrived.

tags:

@thesirenwashere // @courtofjurdan //@little-crow-corvere // @the-dark-swan // @queenofgreenbriar // @clockworkgraystairs // @julemmaes // @rowaelinforeverworld // @mymultiversee // @queen-of-glass @strangely-constructed-soul // @mijaldraws // @http-itsrebecca // @aesthetics-11 // @lord-douglas-the-third // @flowersinvegas // @towhateverend17 // @aelinchocolatelover // @justabunchoffandoms // @cool-ish-nerd // @faerie-queen-fireheart // @sad-book-whore // @didsomeonesayviolin // @atozfantazyxx // @hizqueen4life // @the-gods-killer // @booknerdproblems // @annejulianneh111 // @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln // @b00kworm // @mysweetvillain // @curlyredqueen06 // @moondancer-204 // @thesurielships // @witchling-leonor // @ladywitchling // @amren-courtofdreams // @ifinallygavein // @jlinez // @faequeenaelin // @df3ndyr // @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato // @bitchy-knees // @superspiritfestival // @xx-fiona-xx // @stardelia // @maastrash // @miihlovesnoone // @totenhamboys20 // @sanakapoor // @louisleblancdiggory

#throne of glass #rowan x aelin #rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #sarah j maas #aelin ashryver #rowaelin fanfiction #throne of glass fanfiction #valiant #aelin-queen-of-terrasen

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goldensunflowers98 · 4 years

Text

Coffee House Dreams

Luke Hemmings Imagine

Please let me know what you think❤️

Aurora sighed as she blew a golden blonde curl from her line of vision once again, her fingers lightly pressing against the piano keys while trying to find the right sound. The small coffee shoppe nestled in one of the side streets of London, where her sister worked tirelessly, bustled with life, the strong scent of espresso overwhelming her senses with every inhale.

She was here almost everyday since she couldn't afford a piano this nice at home, knew most of the customers by name, and she always enjoyed a classic, sweet, vanilla cappuccino after a long day at Uni.

Aurora was a simple girl who loved the sight of rain droplets on rose petals, the sound of the ocean waves crashing against the shore at night, and the scent of espresso as she played the piano. She loved the color red, especially her crimson colored scrunchie that currently tied her mess of golden curls up, and she found unkind people to be the scum of the earth.

She also found the mysterious blonde haired, blue eyed boy that hid his face being a pair of sunglasses and a steaming caramel latte to be the most beautiful creature she'd ever seen. He had started coming in just in the past week, but Aurora found his Australian accent positively enchanting and the dimples that appeared when he smiled made her slam her fingers down on the keys of the piano the first time she saw them, causing a loud crash of discord to sound through the small shoppe and for her to duck her blushing face when he whipped around confused.

He sat perched at the window seat across the way and Aurora noticed how he had a blueberry muffin as well today, his fingers picking at the treat as he watched the raindrops rolls down the clear glass beside him.

He looked sad today, Aurora noticed, the corner of his lips turned downwards and he anxiously fidgeted every few minutes, scratching his temple with his sweater paw.

Now, noticing she was staring like a crazy person, Aurora clears her throat, turning her attention back to the keys and the song she was trying to figure out.

Well the sky is finally open, the rain and wind stopped blowin'

But you're stuck out in the same old storm again

The notes just don't sound as perfect as she wanted and she tries again in another key.

You hold tight to your umbrella, well, darlin' I'm just tryin' to tell ya

That there's always been a rainbow hangin' over your head

She groans to herself, placing her head down on the polished wood, frustrated that she couldn't even get the cords right to her own song.

"That's a beautiful song. Have you tried it starting out in 'G' though?"

She gasps in shock, jumping backwards, her sheet music flying everywhere, and she nearly falls off the piano stool as she hears the accented voice of the mysterious boy who loved caramel lattes right beside her.

He looks mortified at her reaction, his bright blue eyes that were no longer covered by sunglasses were wide and his long arms were out like he was about to catch her before she hit the ground.

"Whoa! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scare you," he says but it's all muffled as Aurora stares up at him in shock and wonder.

This mysterious boy wasn't so mysterious after all. He was Luke freaking Hemmings from her old favorite band, 5 Seconds of Summer. She had been staring at Luke Hemmings like a certified freak for over a week now and didn't notice. She really needed to get more sleep.

"It's fine. Everything is fine. Just startled me is all. First, you're way over there and now, you're all the way over here. You must have some long legs on you," she mumbles frantically like a crazy person, picking up her sheet music and as she finishes her sentence, her eyes trail from his torso, down his long legs, and to his feet that were awkwardly doing this thing where they turned into one another. "I rest my case."

He laughs lightly at that and her eyebrows raise when he rests his latte cup on top of the piano as if he was staying awhile.

"Sorry, I tend to creep up on people without them noticing. I'm Luke, by the way," he reaches out his hand for her to shake and Aurora smiles at the sight of his red gel fingernails, her favorite color.

"Aurora... I love the red," she says, earning a brilliant beam from him with a hint of a blush. He mumbles a 'thank you' quietly, tucking a wild blonde curl behind his ear sheepishly.

"You come in here a lot. Do you live close by or something?" He asks, taking a sip of his hot drink as she assorts her music once more.

"Are you stalking me, Luke?" She smirks as he nearly chokes on his drink and starts to fumble over his words.

"N-No! No, I just hear you play every time I come in. It's quite nice and it's a small... it's a small shoppe. Oh, god... Please don't think I'm a psycho stalker," he winces behind his cup, knowing his previous words made him sound like a creep.

"I'm just kidding," she giggles with a mischievous grin, finding his nervousness to be quite funny. "It's a small and quiet coffee house. Not many new people come in, so you're a sight for sore eyes, for sure."

She furrows her brows as he doesn't really reply to her statement, looking back at the door as it chimes, lips bitten harshly by his front teeth. He looks disappointed as Andrew, the local dog walker who liked a double fudge hot cocoa after a long morning of trudging along behind a sweet saint bernard, two huskies that were brothers, Mrs. Henderson's prize winning poodle, and a teacup yorkie that had a bite of a lion, walked in.

"Waiting for someone?" She asked quietly, trying to be gentle as his face is crestfallen after checking the time.

"Uh.." he runs his hand through his curls, tugging at the roots anxiously for a moment before turning back to her. "My girlfriend. She... We've been fighting a lot recently, but she was supposed to meet me an hour ago to talk some stuff out."

Sierra Deaton, Luke's girlfriend, was a sweet girl from what Aurora observed from the tweets and Instagram posts, but every relationship had its downfalls.

"Maybe she's stuck in traffic. You know how London is," she once again tries to be gentle with his feelings and her heart aches just a bit when she sees his deep frown.

"Yeah... Maybe it's just London." He hides his upset eyes by a fake smile and Aurora finds it upsetting at just how good he seemed at that specific action; hiding his true feelings.

"Fuck," he suddenly curses, looking frantic for a second as he starts collecting all of his belongings.

"What's wrong?" Aurora asks, his nervousness making her anxiety spike.

"I'm late for rehearsal. Shit! I completely forgot," he shoves his phone in his pocket and shoots back the rest of his latte quickly. "It was so nice finally meeting you! Um, I'll probably see you tomorrow! Try starting the song out in G!" As quick as he stumbles out his words, he is out of the shoppe and Aurora watches in hazy confusion as he speed walks past the window, tugging at his hair nervously again.

"That boy is going to go bald one day if he keeps that up," she mumbles, turning back to her piano and feeling a bit confused and star struck by her encounter.

"What boy?" She hears her sister ask as she walks around the corner, taking Luke's empty mug from off the piano and placing it in the dirty dish tray she had rested on her hip.

"Just a boy, Cece," she smiles up at her older sister who looked disheveled after a long shift. "Damn, you look rough."

Celestia rolls her eyes playfully at her little sister, reaching up to maintain her jet black hair that was nothing like her sister's. You would have never have known that they were related if you had set your eyes on the curly blonde haired, green eyed, shy girl and the older, upbeat girl with obsidian hair and bright, blue eyes. "Want another cappuccino?" She asks, earning a grin and a nod from Aurora as she walks away.

Looking down at the ivory keys, Aurora hums to herself as she hovers her fingers over the 'G' key. Beginning to play the song, she can't help but grin and scribble down notes inside her tattered song journal. Maybe Luke knew what he was talking about after all.

________

The sun is dimly shining the next morning and Aurora inhales the smell of wet asphalt after the night full of rain, a small smile on her face. Turning the corner towards the coffee shoppe, she nearly stops in her tracks as she sees a familiar, teary-eyed boy through the window, sitting in his normal seat. He was alone, no coffee or muffin in sight and she watches as he buries his distraught face in his hands.

Trudging along slowly while taking looks back at the upset Luke through the window, Aurora frowns as she enters the shoppe and walks over to the counter. "Hey, Cece. I need a vanilla cappuccino, a caramel latte, and two blueberry muffins, please. Put extra caramel drizzle and whipped cream on the latte too."

She ignores her sister's confused smirk as she places the money on the counter, continuing to look over at Luke, who's shoulders were now lightly shaking with sobs. Her order is quick to arrive and she collects the cups and muffins carefully, making a beeline towards Luke's table.

"Hey, sunshine," she whispers solemnly, a gentle, comforting smile on her lips as he looks up with red rimmed eyes, a flushed nose and cheeks, and sniffles quietly.

"Hey," he croaks, wiping his eyes and looking embarrassed that she caught him in his weakest moments.

She slowly slides the muffin and caramel latte in front of him and when he looks up at her confused that she got his order right, she shrugs lightly. "Lucky guess," she says before taking the seat in front of him.

"I know we just met and aren't the best of friends, but I felt like you needed someone to talk to or else you wouldn't be sitting here in the middle of a public coffee house and crying, so... Here I am," she says, stuffing a large bite of blueberry muffin in her mouth and ignoring the crumbs that fall onto the table.

He doesn't say anything for a few moments, a dazed look in his eyes as he gazes out the window and stirs his spoon around and around the rim of his cup.

Aurora is patient, half of her cappuccino finished before he finally parts his lips to speak.

"She left me. She said she didn't want to deal with the distance when we go on tour again and that she didn't trust me to not h-hook up with other girls while I'm gone. I've never done anything but give her l-love and reasons t-to...to trust me! I would n-never cheat."

His words, heaving chest, and his trembling lip are enough to make Aurora wince in sympathy, nearly burning her tongue as he says it in the middle of her taking a larger gulp.

"I'm so sorry, Luke... I know she meant a lot to you or you wouldn't be having this reaction." He nods solemnly as her words before she continues. "If it's any consolation, she didn't deserve you after you kept trying to meet up and talk and she never showed. You tried. She didn't. Some people aren't worth your tears. I know that's not going to stop you from being upset, but it's a thought to think about."

His eyebrows furrow a bit at her words before he gives a small nod. "I guess you're right," he says, showing progress in his mood as he finally picks up his latte and takes a small sip.

It's quiet for a few more minutes and the second that Aurora sees his bottom lip start to tremble again, she panics and leans forward. "Hey," she reaches out and lightly touches his hand. "Want to get out of here? I've got this place I'd like to show you if you let me. It's a bit of a drive, but you won't regret it."

Looking down at his watch, he seems to weigh the pros and cons for a moment before giving in. "Why not?" He says, standing and throwing his jacket on as Aurora looks up, slightly dumbfounded that he accepted.

"Okay," she stands up and gets out an excited giggle, placing their cups in the bin. "Lets go"

With a wave to her sister, who was giving her a proud smirk, Luke puts on his sunglasses and they leave the coffee house, making their way to her car that was parked around the corner.

"Holy shit, this is amazing!" Luke laughs unbelievably at her cherry red 1976 Cadillac Eldorado Convertible with cream colored interior.

"Thanks! It was my granddad's!" Climbing in, she cranks the car and with an excited grin and looking both ways, she pulls out into the traffic.

The wind blows through their hair as the cruise down the roads and Aurora gently smiles when she looks over and sees Luke grinning as he looks at the scenery and people around.

"Here," She hands him her phone as she enjoys the cool breeze, placing her sunnies over her eyes. "You choose the music."

"Brave choice," he hums, taking the phone and beginning to scroll through the songs until he gets to a certain category.

"I knew it!" He shouts with a crazed laugh, Aurora giving him an odd look as she worries for his health.

"You okay there, bub?" She asks with a slight chuckle before he shoves her phone in her face with a wide grin.

"Every one of our albums, including our old EP's, and features. I knew you were a fan!" He laughs as her face drops, a blush taking over her cheeks.

"I never said I wasn't," she sticks her tongue out at him before smirking at his dumbfounded face. "Play a song, doofus." She shoves him playfully as he continues to grin, his thumb scrolling through the songs.

English Love Affair starts playing through the speakers and Aurora rolls her eyes behind her sunglasses. "I see what you did there," she laughs as he smirks over at her cheekily, his sadness hidden well, but Aurora knew it was still under the surface.

________

Oh tie up your boat, take off your coat, and take a look around

Everything is alright now

The door to the coffee shoppe chimes cheerfully the following day, making Aurora look up in curiosity. A smile tugs at her lips as she sees the familiar, lanky, blonde boy walk in but her eyes slightly widen as three other beautiful boys follow behind him.

"Holy mother of God," she mumbles to herself wide eyed as she sees Luke turn towards the piano and give her a smile and wave, making a beeline towards her with the boys in tow.

Gulping, Aurora tries to hide her shaking hands by sitting on them, nervously grinning as they come closer.

"Hey, Ro! These are my friends, Michael, Ashton, and Calum. I told them about your song and they really wanted to hear it." Aurora almost fell over as a pleasant nickname passed through his lips but what really made her vision blurry was the end of his sentence.

"O-Oh, that's so... that's so sweet, Luke. It isn't finished yet though," she frowns, biting her lip as he seems to deflate.

"Oh, well maybe next time then," he says sadly and the look on his face is enough for her to grab his hand as he starts to turn.

"Wait! I-I can show the parts I do have," she says, making his smile appear once again.

The boys all crowd around her, making her feel extremely nervous but with Luke's encouraging smile, she places her still shaking hands over the keys.

When it rain it pours but you didn't even notice

It ain't rainin' anymore, it's hard to breathe when all we know is

The struggle of staying above, the rising water line

She continues the song, trying to his cracking, nervous voice, until she no longer has any lyrics, trailing off with a quiet hum and shaky exhale. "That's all I've got so far," she looks up to see the four boys grinning at her widely.

"She's perfect, Luke," Calum says over to Luke proudly and Ashton nearly jumps up and down.

"Such a smart breadstick, you!" Ashton pats him hard on the back as Michael continues to smile but stay the calm one.

"I don't understand," Aurora nervously picks at her bottom lip as they continue to talk excitedly amongst themselves. That's when she realizes her music journal that was testing on the piano is in Ashton's hand and they are all flickering through the pages with excited grins.

"Um, excuse me," her eyebrows are now furrowed as they read her personal songs and words from her heart and Luke looks up as they hear the edge in her tone.

"Sorry, Ro," He yanks the journal out of their hands and places it back on the piano with an apologetic wince. "I think we owe an explanation." When she nods annoyed, he gulps and continues. "We are in a band called 5 Seconds of Summer."

"I know this... Plus, there's only four of you," she deadpans as Ashton snickers in the back.

"Anyway! We are in a band and we are looking for an opening act and someone to sign, but we didn't want anyone to mainstream or famous. We think you'd be perfect to open for us."

Aurora stares up at them in shock, her mouth becoming dry.

“So... what do you say?” Luke asks, his cheeks turning slightly red.

What should she say?

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couldyouspeakmyname · 3 years

Note

OK I HAVE A BEASTARS OC AND I AM GOING TO TELL YOU ABOUT IT: (you don’t have to answer if you don’t feel like it, kind of just dumping information for myself and maybe you to share with other people /gen )

(Template made by Mandy on Amino, go check them out :) )

Also, I tried to make this so that there was other canon character, but I realized that I had so many oc’s I might as well make a new kind of universe following the beastars world-building stuff

So basically a fancy furry world but the world-building is based on Beastars

I apologize in advance for the spelling (I didn’t check/edit this :p) and also the long form (I like details lol)

BASIC INFORMATION

Full name: Cecelia Aksha Brown

Pronunciation: Cecelia (s-E-s-e-l-E-a) Aksha (pronounced how it’s spelled) Brown (B-r-ow-n)

Nickname(s) or Alias: Blind One (Given by Doctor Cato, her doctor), Lead vocalist of Athaza (Given by fans), Cece (Given by Naomi, a friend), Dead Legs (Given by Emily, the lead vocalist in the rival band)

Band Name: Athaza

Reason for band name: Cece originally wanted to name her band based off of a phobia she had, so she searched up her greatest fear (the fear of being forgetting, being forgotten, ignored, and/or replaced) and found out that the world was Athazagoraphobia. And that was like a really, really long word (both for her and me, the author, to write down) so she chose to shorten it to Athaza.

Gender: female

Species: Black Tiger

Age: 28

Birthday: September 1st

Sexuality: pansexual, poly, asexual

Religion: Atheist

City or town of birth: Belgum

Currently lives: Belgum (although she hardly even goes home, with her work being on the move and all, it is hard for her to get a break and relax in her own home.)

Languages spoken: Japanese

Native language: English

Relationship Status: single and happy about it (she doesn’t have time for a relationship when she is always on the move, and with her job, she just won’t have time to take care of someone else when she can barely take care of herself)

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

Height: body length is 4’5, shoulder height is 31 inches, tail length is 24 inches

Weight: 220

Figure/build: she is very small and tiny for a tiger (being the smallest measurements that a tiger can be at). Her eyes tend to be more rounded and bigger then most tiger’s.

Hair color: she dyed her hair a split dye, half a dark and almost dusty blue and the other half black (left half dusty blue and right half black)

Hairstyle: ummm, idk how to describe it but like the Levi styled hair

Facial Hairstyle: N/A

Eye color: electric blue

Skin/fur/etc color: she has a white base color with black stripes, ears, shape on chest that looks like a broken heart, and tail-tip

Tattoos: she has the words “heaven“ written on her knee, and a tongue piercing of a pentagram

Piercings: double piercings and a tongue piecing in the middle of the pentagram

Scars/distinguishing marks: she has a long light pink scar running up the left side of her leg (and she still can’t walk that good on her last leg, causing her to limp), and her right eye has a long scar running down it and she is blinded on that side

Preferred style of clothing: alternative

Frequently worn jewellery/accessories: lots of silver rings

HEALTH

Smoker?Drinker?Recreational Drug User? Which?Addictions: N/A (she doesn’t have any addictions, although she might drink from time-to-time. She doesn’t mind other people doing those things around her)

Allergies: pollen

Any physical ailments/illnesses/disabilities: she can never walk on her left leg again and she is half blind in her right eye

Any medication regularly taken: N/A

PERSONALITY

Personality: funny, smart, protective, loyal, patient, clumsy, fearful, childish, disorganized, and forgetful

Likes: flowers, bee’s, singing, and playing Instruments

Dislikes: arguments, spoiled brats, discrimination (as she should), and sour foods (she has a sweet tooth)

Fears/phobias: Athazagoraphobia

Favorite color: gray, black, dark purple, brown

Hobbies: singing to music, listening to music, picking flowers

Taste in music: she is the lead vocalist to a scream rock band, however, she likes listening folk music more

SKILLS

Talents/skills: she can sing well and learn instruments quickly

Ability to drive a car? Operate any other vehicles?: she can drive a care and that is pretty much it (although she doesn’t usually need to drive a car since her band is on tour 99% of the time and they have a driver to take them places)

EATING HABITS

Omnivore/Carnivore/Herbivore (Vegetarian): carnivore

Favourite food(s): steak

Favorite drink(s): Monster Energy and coffee

Disliked food(s): insects

Disliked drink(s): tea

HOUSE AND HOME

Describe the character's house/home: she has a pretty large home, the house is hidden deep in the forest and is mostly covered by the tree’s.

Do they share their home with anyone? Who?: She shares the house with he rest of her band

Significant/special belongings: a picture of her parents

CAREER

Level of education: high

Qualifications: singer

Current job title and description: lead vocalist in band

COMBAT

Peaceful or aggressive attitude?: peaceful, she hates getting into fights with people

Fighting skills/techniques: she has her claws and her teeth (also carries a taser, just in case,)

Special skills/magical powers/etc: N/A

Weapon of choice (if any): taser

Weaknesses in combat: she is very slow and not skilled in combat

Strengths in combat: she is impulsive and that usually benefits her

FAMILY, FRIENDS AND FOES

Parents names: Chanda (Mother), Sarendar (Father)

Are parents alive or dead?: dead (died by some unknown prisoners killing them in jail)

Partner/Spouse: N/A

Children: she can barely take care of herself, what makes you think she can take care of a living, breathing, child that does nothing but cry?

Best Friend: Galen (best friend, convinced her to start the band, drum player in band), Naomi (enemies turned friends, joined the band shortly after it formed, lead guitarist)

Other Important Friends: Khalo (band member, back up vocalist), Futun (band member, second drum player), Bilwa (band member, any other position that needs to be filled in),

Acquaintances: Davi (driver for the band), Doctor Cato (his doctor for years)

Pets: Root (a yellow tabby cat)

Enemies?: Emily

Why are they enemies?: they are in rival band‘s, and also Emily makes fun of Cece for being half blind and having a limp

BACKSTORY

Describe their childhood (newborn - age 10):

She had a normal childhood (as normal as a main character’s childhood can get that is). Her parents nearly forced her to join their religion but Cece refused. Soon they argued almost every day, some days is was about grades, some days it was about religion, while others it was about her sexuality.

Describe their teenage years (11 - 19):

The arguments got so bad that she couldn’t bare it any longer, the moment she turned eighteen she ran away from her parents house and went to her friends house (Galen). Soon the two of them formed a band.

Describe their adult:

Once the band got kind of popular, she was living her best life. So she chose to forgive her parents for what they did to her. She went over to their house for Thanksgiving, her parents asked if she could spend the night. Cede was happy to (seeing how she didn’t see her parents in so many years). While Cece was sleeping her Mother got some water and boiled it, adding some sugar and waitI got 15 minutes for it to cook. Once it was done, her Mother poured the boiling water on her own daughter. Cece screamed from the pain, once her Father heard her screams he rushed into her room and called 911. Cece was admitted into the hospital with burns across her legs, arms, and face. The sugar made the burns extra hard to get off and Cece spent multiple weeks in the hospital. Her Father was found guilty of letting her Mother attempt to murder Cece and Cece’s Mother was found guilty of attempting to kill her own daughter. They both got time in jail together, in the jail cell every prison found out what they did and some unknown prisoners beat up Cece’s mother and Father. Cece was left with a blinded eyes and a leg that was doomed to never work the rest of her life

That sounds fun!! I'm assuming it's kind of an AU then?

Also, it's a real shame more characters in Beastars don't dye their fur. It could be fun, but then again...it'd be difficult?

-Maeve

#long post #sorry I can't put this under cut #I love ocs though #this could be fun to do but it's not exactly the kind of format I personally like for my ocs #but it's a nice general one!!#tongue piercing's are fun #I want one...and a lip piercing...#I also want more in my ears #I just want to be a metal detectors worst nightmare tbh

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harleythatcher · 3 years

Text

☽ [ Hailee steinfeld, she/her, cis woman ] ☾ [ harley thatcher ] has lived in [ the waterhole ] for [ her whole life ] now. the [ 26 ] year old [ werewolf ] is the [ arms dealer ] for the [ hellhounds ]. but they also make an honest earning as a [ assistant manager and tattoo artist ] for [ thatcher ink and salon ]. truthfully, they remind me of [ the sound of a tattoo gun hitting skin, cigarette smoke in the distance, long dark hair cascading down your back ]. whenever it’s their turn to be the getaway driver, they blast [ pour some sugar on me by Def Leppard ] on full volume. ☼☼ ooc info; Sarah, 25, she/her, est

Trigger warning for mention of death, guns, murder

FULL NAME: Harley Rivers Thatcher-Matthews

NICKNAME: H, Har, Scarface, little ass kicker

BIRTH DATE & AGE: 26, December 14th

PLACE OF BIRTH: Skull, Arizona

CURRENT CITY: Skull, Arizona

NOTICEABLE FEATURES: Long legs, large scar across her left cheek, hazel eyes, dark hair that is usually seen in a messy bun, tattoos scattered across her entire body

TATTOOS: Too many to count

PIERCINGS: both ears, cartilage on her left ear, nippels

CHILDREN: Dakota Thatcher

PETS: Orange tabby cat, Chezit

MINI BIO

Harley Thatcher was born to two loving, young parents - Cecelia and Ethan. They weren’t exactly very old when they became parents to her….only eighteen to be exact

Cece let Ethan name their daughter and the first name that came to his head was Harley, her name coming from his love for bikes and being a member of the Hellhounds. Sure, it may have seemed a bit cliche, but he felt like it fit suited her

The pair wanted children but were they 100% ready to have a baby by themselves? Far from it. Her mother was cutting hair at the family salon and her dad? A pizza delivery boy and aspiring tattoo artist

Even though it was incredibly difficult, they made it work. Sure, they never have much extra money laying around so that resulted in the girl growing up in the local trailer park and wearing hand-me-downs and eating off brand food. She did not have the most lavish upbringing, but her childhood was filled with love and support from parents who adored her feisty self

Speaking of feisty, Harley has always been one to push the envelope and not take shit from others. Sometimes that worked in her favor but other times? Not so much.

She generally was always getting into trouble at school by her teachers and fellow peers, it would range from skipping class, back talking to authority figures, sneaking out/partying, running from the cops, and landing herself overnight in jail for the stupid things she did as a teen.

Eventually, her actions would catch up to her at the age of seventeen. The young girl found herself getting into a nasty altercation at school with another student that turned bloody and almost deadly. Harley ended up beating up the girl so severely that she left the other person half deaf and in the hospital.

As a result, she was sent to prison (tried as an adult) for a total of three years a few hours away. It was a hard three years to get through, only being able to get visits from her parents and other family members once or twice a month due to the distance

Her father ended up getting murdered when Harley was nineteen while out on a mission for the Hellhounds. She always knew that her dad had a dangerous job but when she heard the news, it broke her entire heart. He was her role model and best friend in the entire world and he was just...gone.

At twenty years old she was finally released from prison and made her return to her beloved town of Skull.

Harley’s father’s death fueled her to do better and find more of a purpose with her life. She had always grown up around the Hellhounds members and basically considered them her second family. The brunette always pondered wanting to become a member, so she decided to pass on her father’s legacy and become a prospect.

After a few years of prospecting, she moved up the ranks to become an arms dealer, just like Ethan

When she was twenty four, she became pregnant with a guy she had been casually seeing for a few months. After breaking the news to him, he was so excited and overjoyed with the news that he proposed to her and at seven months pregnant with their daughter, she had a courthouse wedding. It was followed by a humble reception at the restaurant they had their first date at.

Things were sweet for only so long though and when their daughter Dakota was around eight months, Harley would find out that her husband was cheating on her with another woman. That night, she bagged up all of his shit and threw it out of their trailer, telling him to go to hell and get lost. She hasn’t been in contact with him ever since.

Right now, she is trying her best to be a single mother, member for the Hellhounds, and an assistant manager and artist at the family salon and tattoo parlor.

FUN FACTS

Is a full blooded werewolf, both of her parents being them

Always has had a strong love for drawing and while she was in prison, did some tattooing on the other inmates that were her friends

Has a large scar across her left cheek that she got from a homemade knife after a fight with another inmate

Adores classic rock, having many fond memories of listening to it with her dad as a kid

Is very much a tomboy and feels most confident with her leather jacket and her hair in a messy bun

She doesn’t know how many tattoos she has, them being all around her body. Harley has two full sleeves and her tattoos vary in size and style

Her favorite flowers are sunflowers

Is still technically married, she never filed for divorce from her husband despite them being estranged

Thatcher Salon was merged into Thatcher Salon and Ink after her parents saved up enough to build onto the building to add a room for tattooing. Harley filled in as one of the main artists / managers after her father’s passing.

Full Biography coming soon.

#skullaz:intro #murder tw #gun tw #death tw

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mor-beck-more-problems · 4 years

Text

Our Lady of the Underground || Morgan & Miriam

TIMING: Current/the Winter Solstice

PARTIES: @meflemming & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Morgan Beck, dead witch walking, gathers her final sacrifice.

CONTAINS: Violence, mentions of torture, death

Morgan tried trolling the Magic Circle for gossip about who was getting into dark shit and doing experiments they probably shouldn’t, but everyone was more curious about why she had stopped coming by Amity Row and why she wouldn’t take them up on their drink offers. So Morgan left it to chance, or fate.When the day came, she loitered around outside some other bar, her lonely act not much of one at all, and waited for someone to ask twice for her company. Somehow, he took all her grimacing and turning away as signs of just being nervous and offered to get some air outside with her before she could come up with a good excuse.

And now he was bound and gagged and unconscious before the Devil’s Gullet, which just went to prove you really shouldn’t follow women who invited you for a late night stroll in the woods after dark. Fog rolled in thick, obscuring the line between solid ground and bottomless pit and stifling the sound of any life around them. Even the rest of the air felt suspended, hiding. Morgan tucked her jacket sleeves into the rubber kitchen gloves she put on to search pockets for anything dangerous or distinct enough to get them caught, but there was nothing out of the ordinary, except for some runestones and a tarot deck. Not enough to prove spellcaster one way or the other. Miriam would have to be okay with a certain level of ambiguity when it came to their mark; they both would. The maybe-spellcaster guy twitched, groaning, and Morgan jumped back. She knew they needed him awake if they were supposed to get any paint out of the situation, but that didn’t mean it was her preference. She cast a furtive glance Miriam’s way. Was this how things were supposed to go? Was she doing it right?

Taking in Morgan’s caution and overall appearance of being uncomfortable, Miriam made sure to appear steady, confident. And, truthfully? She was. This was her element, just as much as the leather shop was. They were in a good location for body disposal, the Gullet being a location she’d used frequently years ago on the occasions that she hadn’t wanted bodies immediately found. It would certainly serve their purpose well. Miriam had waited to feed a few days just for this, and she was starved. It didn’t help that her fangs had been coming out at random times. She figured that it had something to with the hunger, but it was curious, and more than a little annoying. She wanted this done as quickly and effectively as possible. So she pinned her curls up in a bun, put on a pair of gloves, and pulled her skinning knife out of her pocket. As the man started stirring, and Morgan cast a look in her direction, Miriam gave the small zombie a nod and walked up to the man, an easy, lopsided smile on her face. She patted him on the cheek gently. “Wake up, sweetness. Join us in the land of the living, won’t you?” Though, looking at Morgan and then realizing she was talking around a mouth full of fangs, Miriam rectified her statement. “Well, semi-living. Come on, now, eyes open. Let’s talk.” She ran the knife along his jawline, drawing out a thin line of blood. Best not to wait.

If Morgan just looked at the guy without looking at him, as if he were a set piece, or part of the atmospheric scenery. On your left, observe the ashy remnants of bone and suspiciously stained rocks. Further back, the creepy mist gets a little thick and likes to take the shape of malevolent spectres, and in the center, a human vessel for ritual bloodletting! Morgan took out her own knife and her Nalgene, unscrewing the lid and looking for an easy place to make this go quick, well, quickly enough. Not enough pain, then they’d just have to hurt someone else, and that wasn’t something she really wanted to put out into the world. She had made it this far without needing a do-over. She could get to the finish line and hand the blood to her exorcist and have something to show for these last four months.

The maybe-caster grunted with pain, starting to life. He looked around him wildly, straining his arms and screaming through his gag. Morgan looked around them and saw nothing and no one from one end of the mist to the other. “It’s okay to struggle,” she said gently. “The more the better. You should try to exert as much influence as you can over your situation. It will irritate your injuries, which is good for my purposes, but it might minimize the severity of any PTSD you develop after this too.”

He looked at her, shouting muffled cries of confusion and anger.

“I would prefer it if you survived this, but that’s going to depend on what kind of influence you try to exert. Please bear that in mind.” This would be the part where she made a cut, like a spigot into a tree, and let the material flow. But the man thrashed and Morgan, for all her practice with animals, struggled to make her incision so easily. Instead she came around behind him and wrapped her arms around, squeezing him with her full strength. She looked to Miriam for guidance again and nodded toward her Nalgene. “Please don’t waste anything,” she mumbled.

Watching impassively as Morgan talked to the man, Miriam stepped up again when Morgan moved behind him. “I’ve done this quite a bit,” she said, an easiness in her voice that didn’t match the intensity in her crimson eyes as she stared at the man. “Relax, darling.” She glanced at Morgan, then back at the man, smiling at him with sharp teeth. “Not you, darling. I don’t think you’re going to be able to relax much for this.” She got in the man’s face, pulling the deck of tarot cards out of his pocket. “This.” She threw them into the pit. “This is why you’re here. And for whatever she needs you for. You serve some purpose to her, at least. For me, you’re just a meal.” Then she grabbed the container that Morgan had brought and her knife, and she set to work.

According to Miriam’s research, back when she’d first realized the more pain meant that she was better fed for longer, the Chinese had perfected an art of torture called lingchi, or slow slicing. Some called it a death by a thousand cuts. It wasn’t dissimilar to flaying, and, the way she did it, it wasn’t as messy as skinning, though there was still quite a bit of mess that came with bleeding a person out. Miriam set to it, creating shallow incisions designed to elicit pain, starting on the man’s right arm. The wounds began to bleed, slowly, and the man began to scream against the pain of it. This would certainly be blood brought by suffering, Miriam thought, and the man was miserable, too, his pain and misery almost as familiar as blood on her tongue.

Morgan tried to shut her ears to the muffled cries of agony from the man in her arms. This was not going to be the first body she’d ever made, and for all she knew this guy who didn’t take the first ‘no’ for an answer had done something as bad as Cece’s coven friend to deserve being here. Maybe he’d earned this and she just didn’t know it.

Slowly, Morgan’s fingers grew slick with blood. Most was dripping into the Nalgene (slowly, so fucking slowly), but Morgan could sense it in how much more effort she had to put into holding him still. She’d encouraged struggle, encouraged anything to make this a little less terrible, but this was the price of torture. There was no room for mercy. No room for kindness. Miriam’s knife cut right through any ideas like that, shredding them along with the man’s skin. His cries grew throaty and desperate. He thrashed, messing Miriam’s handiwork, and groped blindly at Morgan’s clothes, like he could pull her into doing something different. “Y-you’re...you’re doing good…” she said faintly. This only made him scream louder, and it finally occurred to Morgan that all the affirmations in the world wouldn’t change what this must be like for him.

The phone rang in a short burst of sound: some anime sound effect Morgan vaguely recognized from Skylar’s recommendations but couldn’t place. She was sure she’d put it on silent when she took it, but apparently. “Shit, shit, shit...sorry…” She prised one bloody hand off the man’s anguished body and fished out the device. It was just some girl asking “u up?” And yet Morgan couldn’t help but stare at the lit up screen. There was a picture of a happy looking golden retriever being hugged by a kid in overalls on the lock screen, too messy to be a stock photo. Both of them couldn’t be his, right? “Mim, how much longer?” She asked, words wavering in her throat.

The poor bastard was quite miserable, as Miriam slowly sliced off pieces of his flesh and cut into him, but she still wasn’t satisfied. Not yet. It was a slow process, an agonizing process for both him and her, though she’d walk away from this encounter feeling full and sated, a smile on her lips. “Not much longer,” she told Morgan, the container filling up. She licked a bit of blood off the knife, grinning as the man in front of her whimpered. She set back to work. There was no need to take hours, and she could tell Morgan was probably getting uncomfortable with all of this blood and gore. Despite the name, slow slicing wasn’t a particularly long process. She only needed about half an hour, though she preferred longer, occasionally chatting and breaking bones. Not this time though. The man’s screams turned into whimpers, short, wretched little sounds in the back of his throat. Miriam didn’t know how a blood sacrifice was supposed to work, didn’t know if he was supposed to be louder for the full effect or whatever. She wasn’t the witch, wasn’t the one with the intimate know-how on all of this. Personally, she thought he could beg a bit, be a little louder. “There’s no one to hear you,” she told him, gently, next to his ear. “There’s no one that cares. So, please, by all means, continue screaming.”

The phone kept lighting up. There was no more weird anime sound to remind Morgan of Skylar or her dead student, who had at least been popular enough for the school club to turn out for her and make some memorial art of her as some magical girl character. But there was still the dog, dopey and excited and probably going to get shipped off to the pound after it had wandered the house going hungry, waiting for someone to come home that never would. The kid, definitely-definitely-definitely not his, but still tiny and happy and if this guy loved them enough to put them on his screen, they had to be important. And there was a group chat talking about a videogame release, a request for help with a calculus program on a tutoring app. And Morgan thought of the kids at Maxine Johnson’s funeral, and that clearing in the woods where she had begged that wolf to spare Deirdre, Ariana trembling her arms, the witch screaming in Cece’s house, the anguish on Deirdre’s face as she staggered home after a fucking week. The guy finally thrashed hard enough to get his gag loose, or looser, and he let out a scream that sounded so much like Morgan’s own. “Fucking fuck…” she whispered. The knife just cut deeper, scoring more holes into the universe, more loss. Nothing redistributed or balanced, it just spread, taking more and more, giving less and less.

“Stop!” Morgan’s hand shot out to Miriam’s wrist and pushed it away. “We need to stop now. You have to be full, he’s been screaming forever, this has to be over a-and this is...it’s done. This isn’t helping anything and it’s finished.” Her grip tightened. It was the only thing steady about her.

There wasn’t any enjoyment coming out of this, and she’d nearly been done, almost been willing to let this man and his annoying phone and his incessant whining leave with nothing more than a few bad feelings and some terrible scars, but Miriam still felt slighted at being told to stop. Stop, as if she had no self-control. Stop, as if she was a child to be scolded, being physically held back. This was a new low, even for Morgan. For all of her holier-than-thou attitude, she’d still agreed to Miriam’s help, had known going into this that it was just as much about Miriam getting a meal as it was about Morgan getting her blood sacrifice. And she’d commanded Miriam to stop? Put her hands on her in an attempt to make her. Miriam felt something inside her tighten and tighten and tighten as she looked down at the smaller woman, her teeth gritted. Something snapped, and Miriam relaxed.

Then, with her free hand, Miriam gripped the man by the shirt, pulled him close, and ripped his throat out with her teeth. Grin bloody, she shoved the container of blood towards Morgan, though she was controlled enough in her movements not to spill it. “There,” she said. “No more screaming. All done, sweetness.” She smacked her lips but didn’t wipe away the smear of blood that lingered on her chin. Miriam pulled herself away from Morgan and set about cleaning her knife, taking the gloves off of her hands and preparing to dispose of them.

“NO!” Morgan screamed and pulled the man back, but it was too late. Miriam bit, and his body flopped back, bleeding and lifeless. “What the fuck! That’s not what I wanted, that’s not--he would’ve been fine! I said stop to let him go, not to--! He didn’t even DO anything! He was no one! Tarot cards are just glorified mind tricks! Fucking---” Morgan’s screams broke with sobs. The mess of his throat was all over her hands now and Morgan couldn’t stand it. She got out from under him and edged away. She shook off as much as she could, but the blood stuck to her hands and made a home in her nail beds. “Fucking universe, I changed my mind, that’s it! Why couldn’t you…” Listen. Or see; see anything besides her own pain and want. But Morgan wasn’t even sure Miriam could see her right now. She was polishing her knife, like cutlery was really the thing that mattered right now. Morgan’s voice tapered off, shattering between horror and disbelief.

“Well, now he’s certainly no one at all, is he?” Miriam mused, though she swallowed hard, refused to look at Morgan at all. This was no place for regrets. She was not one to feel regrets. If she did, they would crash down around her so brilliantly, and she’d never get up again. She’d sooner be able to rip out her own throat than allow that to happen. “You’ll want to make sure the body goes over the side, and make sure there’s nothing plastic on him.” She looked over to the body. “Or I’ll do it myself, actually.” She finally looked at Morgan, scowling at the expression on the zombie’s face and refusing to let it feel small. She hadn’t buckled under the woman’s scolding before, and she wouldn’t do it this time, either. “I didn’t change my mind, and I wasn’t finished. That’s simply the way things are, sometimes. You got your blood. I got my meal. I think that both of us came out on top in this situation.” Certainly much better than him, she thought but didn’t say as she looked at the dead man on the ground.

“That’s not how things are! You don’t get to say that about something you did!” Morgan screamed. She pulled on Miriam, trying to make her look at her. She reached up and held her face, blood smearing all over it as she tried to get a grip. “You have choices, Mim! You have fucking choices. We all have choices! We don’t have to be like this, it’s too fucked. Look at me--no, really look at me Miriam and tell me that wasn’t so fucked and you don’t feel one bit better! Maybe you’re full, but better? Really?” She could barely see her for the tears streaming down her face. She’d waited too long to figure this out, and Miriam needed to eat no matter what, but this was reckless, this was just more unfairness and aching. Someone was going to miss that man and go looking and ache, wondering, and they’d never know that Morgan was the reason behind the worst day of their life and it would all just keep spreading. “Tell me you can feel how wrong this is.”

“That is exactly how things are, and if you’re foolish enough to not see that, then open your fucking eyes, Morgan!” Miriam snarled. She tried to pull away, but the little zombie was like a damn vice, forcing her to look and see. She did not want to. She did not care to. “I made a choice. A rash one, certainly, but it was my choice, and I stand by it. I do.” She looked Morgan in the eyes, red meeting blue like a clear warning sign. Did she feel better? No, not really, not much at all, but she’d never admit that, never give Morgan the satisfaction that she was spot on. If Morgan hadn’t pushed her, if she hadn’t literally grabbed her and forced Miriam’s hand, things might be different. She forced herself not to look away at the tears streaming down Morgan’s face, steadied her resolve and her feelings, her anger and her rage. She was angry that Morgan tried to stop her. She was upset over the thought that Morgan didn’t think she could stop herself. “None of that matters. It’s done now. I made a choice. It’s done now.”

“Because why!” Morgan demanded. “Because of your pride? Because I’m the one saying it? Because then you would actually have to do something different instead of just being so fucking scared? You are so terrified that things could be different, because it would mean you and everyone else has suffered for no good reason and it really was as shitty as it felt this whole time!” Her voice snapped and she cried again, though she no longer knew for who. “You could’ve stopped. We could’ve had someone do a memory charm, do something, so he wouldn’t tell about what happened. He could’ve been okay if you’d just stopped, Miriam…” Her hands fell and she backed away from the whole mess. “I really thought you were better than this.” But maybe she wasn’t. And hadn’t Miriam tried to tell her so this whole time. “Keep the blood,” she whispered. “I don’t want it. I need to fix something about this mess…”

“I am not scared!” Miriam screamed back, avoiding the questions because they did scare her. “Any part left of me that had anything to fear died before my heart even stopped. I’m not scared! I have never been scared.” She gritted her teeth so hard that the taste of blood in her mouth was less of that man’s and more of her own, the dead taste of it unsatisfying and bitter on her tongue. She felt prickles of tears in her own eyes, but she blinked them away, swallowed the taste of her own blood like bile. She would not cry. She wouldn’t. “But I didn’t. I didn’t, and playing around with what ifs and should haves and could haves does no one any good at all, darling. It simply doesn’t do any good.” She choked back a laugh. “I have been trying, so hard, to get you to see that I am, in fact, not better than these. I can’t be! I’m incapable!” She looked down at the container, disgusted with it and everything that it represented. She wasn’t disgusted with herself, though. No, she was not disgusted with herself. “I don’t want the fuckng blood, either. It was gotten for you.” She couldn’t imagine it’d taste alright, either. The man’s blood had turned sour the second it entered her mouth. She didn’t want it.

“Everyone is scared, you complete dumbass!” Morgan cried. She kicked the Nalgene over, letting the blood spill into the grass and drip down the sides of the hole in the earth. “But fine, you don’t want it--” She kicked it again. “There you go. Keep the bottle for the next time you get miserable.” She stood still, hands flexed. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to do to Miriam, if she could shake more sense into her, fight her, or wipe the tears building so clearly in her eyes. But the exorcist was due in town tomorrow, and she needed to solve Constance another way before then. “You’re only incapable right now because you’re a fucking coward. But you know what? Mission accomplished! You win! You’re a monster and a liar, but it’s not because of the magic boogeyman universe that made you. It’s just you. Alone.” She stalked off into the trees, wiping the blood on her jeans and fumbling for her phone. She’d already ruined one person’s life, but maybe there was time to save Constance and whatever was left of herself.

“Fuck you!” Miriam screamed after Morgan’s receding figure, but there was little fight in it, nothing more than the petulant words of a child that she so desperately tried not to be. Because that’s all she was, wasn’t it? A child, one that found out the boy who teased her on the playground really was only teasing her and not simply pulling her pigtails because he liked her. She was a child, one that threw a fit every time she didn’t get her way. She was-- No, she was stronger than this, better than this, and she wouldn’t be reduced to anything less than she was by one tiny zombie who couldn’t keep her nose and her wretched moral compass out of other people’s lives. Miriam shook her head harshly, closing her eyes, not even realizing that tears were running down them and making rivets in the blood on her cheeks as she did. She thought about just kicking the bottle into the fucking hole, consequences be damned, but she didn’t. Instead, she continued cleaning up the mess. Determined not to get herself or Morgan caught. She didn’t watch the body disappear over the edge, just picked up the phone from where it had fallen out of the man’s pocket. There was a dog on the screen, a few messages. Miriam felt a pang in her chest and picked up a tarot card as well, stuffing them both in her pocket. She wiped away a few tears, sure that Theo was laughing at her in whatever corner of hell he’d slithered off to. In the distance, she could see eyes watching her. Fucking Wildes. “Do you like the mess I’ve made of myself?” she muttered, and, everything cleaned and packed up, she walked away.

#our lady of the underground #wr miriam #wr chatzy #wr miriam chatzy #wickedswriting

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accioxreparo · 4 years

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i've listened to "you & me" at least 5 times today and i can't stop thinking about george x reader in someone to you because you said it reminds you of them and AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

CECE OH MY GOD I HAVE BEEN THINKING ABOUT THIS ALL DAY LONG YESTERDAY AND TODAY!!!!

Legit while I was working on that last fic I posted last night and literally all that kept popping into my head was George x reader in STY so have these cute little hc’s about them because ily!!!!

***

It had never really occurred to George to give you a nickname

you were always just ‘Y/N’ to him and he didn’t really think there was any need to call you anything else

it happened during your fourth year and while he himself isn’t able to pinpoint where ‘my love’ came from, Fred remembers clearly

you’d been spending more time than ever with Oliver, especially considering he’d given in and officially had McGonagall make you his assistant captain instead of just saying it

not to mention the fact that Alicia was out for at least a couple months after a particularly bad fall and you were in charge of helping Katie catch up on all the formations

It’s late, nearing curfew, and the typical sound of you and Oliver bickering can be heard the moment the portrait hole cracks open

“Regretting trying out yet?” Fred smirks as he sees the dead tired, and frankly annoyed, look on Katie’s face. She falls onto one of the armchairs and her voice comes out muffled. “I’m getting there.”

George, however, has his eyes trained on you and Oliver arguing. It was a sight everybody was used to but it looks different now. It sounds different too.

“Babe, I’m telling you, that maneuver is never going to work.” “Of course it will. Give me three practices and I will have Angelina and Katie perfecting these moves.” “I’ll give you half of one to give it a try.” “Two?” “One, final offer.” “You’re so difficult.” “Whatever you say, babe.” “Don’t call me that.”

The second Oliver leaves the Common Room George is standing to move next to where you had sat on the floor nearest the large windows without a second thought. He stares at you for a few moments before finally shaking out of his small trance

“When did that happen?” You frown at the question and lean your head on his shoulder just as you have hundreds of times before. “When did what happen?”

“He means when did Wood start calling you ‘babe’?” Fred interrupts and sits in front of the two of you without hesitation, leaning back on his hands with a smirk. “Is there something we should know about?”

“I’m offended you’d even think so,” Your nose scrunches a bit and you drop your gloves on the floor beside you. “You’d have to ask him that. Hate it though. Doesn’t suit me. Not from him anyway.”

And that statement is the one that gets stuck in George’s head and he doesn’t quite know why. Doesn’t suit me, not from him.

Honestly, he doesn’t even know he’s doing it, it just kinda happens without meaning to

“Hand me those ingredients over there, please, dear?” “Did you catch what Binns said, honey? May or may not have fallen asleep during the lecture again.” “Hogsmeade tomorrow, angel?”

Most of the time you roll your eyes but don’t say much about it. That is until he breaks out a new one. The last new one.

“What do you think, my love?” George looks up from where he’d been looking over some of their newest footage only to find you staring at your Charms homework intently

He can read you like a book. The name had caught you off guard and he’s finally gotten a reaction out of you. It’s only confirmed when your head shoots up to look at him. “Sorry, uh, what happened?”

George tries his hardest not to smile so instead he goes back to the screen in front of him “I asked what you thought about Fred and I making these videos a weekly thing, my love.”

“I, uh,” You clear your throat, finally managing to look him in the eyes again. “I think it’s, think it’s worth a shot.”

He looks at you once more and gives a nod, “Good.”

A week passes and George has successfully managed to work ‘my love’ into every conversation he has with you, probably enjoying your reaction just a bit too much

especially when he overhears you scolding Oliver for the nicknames again

“I’ve figured it out,” Fred announces one day after watching you walk away from them with Katie again. “You were jealous.”

“About what exactly?” George is only half paying attention but the next words that leave Fred’s mouth have him doing a double take. “Of Y/N and Oliver spending so much time together.”

George is silent for just a little bit too long.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He finally says, putting down the thing he’d been working on and glaring at Fred. “Why would I be jealous?”

“Well I don’t know, Georgie, why are people usually jealous of their friends being close with other people?”

“Do you ever say anything how it is?” “Do you ever acknowledge anything without deflecting?”

They stare at each other for a second before George shakes his head and looks at his parchment again. “You’re reading too much into it. Y/N’s done the same thing with Ginny, Mione, and Luna for as long as she’s known them. Started doing it with Harry too. The nicknames mean nothing.”

Fred knows better than to push any further. He does, however, feel a bit obligated to mention the conversation he’d overheard you having earlier in the Great Hall. “She’s got a date this weekend.”

George doesn’t look up again but he does stop and put his full attention on the sudden change in topic. “With who?” “Alex Creswell.” “Why?”

He rolls his eyes when Fred laughs at his reaction, finally looking up at him again. “I didn’t know Y/N even knew him.” “They’re partners in Arithmancy apparently.”

Fred watched closely as George seemed to silently work out what it was he’d just been told. When he couldn’t easily figure out what his thoughts were he asked “What do you think, then?” “About what?” “The date, obviously.” “What am I supposed to think?”

He lets out a groan and lets his head fall backward before quickly changing the subject, figuring the topic wasn’t going to turn out to be as interesting as he thought

You don’t notice any of the whispers and George doesn’t either

Not when he runs into the Great Hall a couple months later alongside Fred shouting, “You will never guess what happened, my love!”

Or when the Celestial Ball is held and you both go with other people but you’re constantly by each other’s sides anyway “C’mon, darling, you love this song!” “But, my love, I’m tired.”

Not even when the twins hit their first big milestone on their channel and you throw them a party in the Room of Requirement. “You, my love, always believed in us.” “Well of course, darling, you know how much I love you guys.”

Nothing ever happens though and after those first few months of George shouting ‘my love’ everywhere you went together, everybody else simply gets used to it.

You get used to it too and you’ve never thought twice about the nickname, one you don’t even realize he doesn’t use with anybody else

You don’t notice it until the fake dating starts.

It’s then that you backtrack just as you had all those years ago, nervous about who overhears and what it means.

That’s the thing, though, really. You’re not sure if it even means anything at all and you’re terrified that you’re thinking about it too much where he isn’t.

The more things evolve in yours and George’s relationship, your fake relationship, the more confused you get.

You start to hang on to the words whenever you hear ‘my love’ leave his lips, whenever you see them typed on the screen.

Then the looks become a little too long and the touches a little too soft and one day you shake yourself out of the flurry of thoughts you’d let yourself slip into and convince yourself that it’s all in your head.

George calling you my love has always been normal. It means absolutely nothing different now than it did when he first started using the nickname.

Right?

#ahh i just love these two so much :')#oof and i promise the little bit with oliver will make more sense after the next part lol #i wrote some hc's about reader oliver and charlie to go with the next part and forgot i hadn't posted them yet whoops #ANYWAY CECE ILYSM OH MY GOSH!#someone to you

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