#Leaving me here in the nest? All alone??? How could you... 😔

[vial-of-bane]

Fire Spirit stop bringing up your husband in every conversation and at every opportunity challenge [IMPOSSIBLE]

Seriously. Two of those are promotion/ascension quotes, two of them are lines he says when you tap on him in the overworld, one is a line when you tap on him in his lobby, and one is when he levels up. He wants that dragon so fucking bad it's so embarrassing

I put this doodle together just for this ask lol. Fire Spirit is swooning always, not a moment in the day he doesn't think about his red dragon. ♡ It's one of his favorite thing to talk about. -

[authorscurse]

Love Leaves Scars: New hope

[L.L.S Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist] | [G.H Masterlist]

Warning: none

Pairing: oc!reader x Grayson Hawthorne

W.C: 1.8k

Note: FINALLY, THE FIRST CHAPTER IS RELEASED! I hope you guys will enjoy this chapter. I wanted you all to meet Verity before the boys get mentioned! It's been a while since I last created a story, so please bear with me!!! I promise to try and update faster next time😔

As a child, I was never doted on. So clearly, being independent and acting older despite such a young age would become the result of it. "No Rosewood was once a child." My father would always say to me. Thus, living alone at the age of 18 never became a problem.

" 'Not a problem,' you say, look at this mess, Veri!" The high-pitched voice of Asnid echoes in the room. "This is not a mess, Asnid," I tell her, swatting her hand from grabbing the papers scattered on my desk. "Will you look at this place, Verity? It's a total jungle in here. I don't understand how you call this your 'ideas room'," Asnid says, crossing her arms in front of her and putting on a disapproving look.

To me, she looked hilarious. I could never take her glares seriously with how small she looked. She looked like an oompa loompa trying to prevent you from taking their precious cacao beans. No offence, Asnid.

"It's organised for me," I snickered at her. The way she rolled her eyes and scoffed in irritation caused a small laugh to pass through my lips.

"I couldn't stay here anymore, goodbye!" She huffs in defeat before stomping out the door and towards the kitchen. To be honest, the whole place is a mess. But for some unknown reason, it helps me think more. Constantly worrying about the organization is much more infuriating than having a messy place.

I clenched my eyes shut and took deep breaths to calm me down and clear my head. I grab my headphones from my desk and place them on my head. A playlist I made to help me concentrate on my work blaring in my ears. I grab my drawing pencil and my sketchpad to sketch my desired portrait, the music drowning out all the noises that would prevent me from focusing. For once, I felt calm and relaxed.

I hardly noticed the time and how late it was not until Asnid told me it was almost midnight. As soon as I peeked at my clock, I immediately realized how tired I was. Without a second thought, I gathered the materials used and secured the painting I'd be presenting to my art professor. I bid Asnid good night before retiring to my bedroom.

A sigh escaped my lips as I finally felt the relaxing comfort of my bed. I close my eyes in hopes of removing all possible thoughts that would disrupt my peaceful sleep, and with one final sigh, I let sleep envelop me in its warm, soothing embrace.

I could feel the sun peeking through my blinds and hitting my skin. The birds quietly chirp from outside. My bed felt so warm and cosy to the point that I barely even wanted to get up. I opened my eyes and allowed myself a few moments to adjust to the lighting before looking over my shoulder to check the time. 8:34.

"Verity!" As if on cue, my bedroom door flies open, revealing Asnid with her hair looking like a literal bird's nest and still in pyjamas. We both stared at each other with wide eyes. "WE'RE LATE!" We both yelled out loud. Asnid ran out and ran to her bedroom while I jumped off my bed and ran towards my bathroom. I could hear the clock ticking with every passing second, which made me even more agitated. With 15 minutes remaining, I dashed out of my bedroom and school clothes all disordered. My skirt was sideways, half of the buttons on my blouse were unbuttoned, and my tie was just messily thrown around my neck. My backpack gripped in hand, I sprinted towards my ideas room and grabbed my painting before leaving.

"Everything ready?" I asked Asnid, who was frantically fixing her hair in the mirror near the door. She nodded her head, and we both ran towards her car. "Don't go too fast, you might crash," I tell her while buckling my seat belt. She gives me a nod before driving out of the driveway.

My heart pounds against my chest. 1 minute. I run as fast as I can. My legs burn as I continue to run to the art room. I silently pray that I make it in time. "Almost there," I tell myself while panting. I ran down the hallway to the art room before one of the doors opened, and Ms Hudgins, the English professor, walked out with a cup of coffee in hand and a stack of papers in the other.

Before I could even stop myself, I collided with her. Everything felt like it was in slow-mo. Her papers and cup of coffee were thrown in the air with my canvas. She let out a scream while we both fell to the floor. I watch as Ms. Hudgin's coffee spills on the canvas and the floor.

I sat on my heel and stared at the now-ruined painting in pain. My chances of getting into Yale were ruined.

"Miss Rosewood! What were you thinking running in the halls!" Miss Hudgin's piercing voice echoes throughout the hallway. I open my mouth to answer her, to give her a valid reason, but nothing comes out. Not even a single sound. I continue to stare at my ruined painting. What am I going to tell Mr. Rivera?

After Miss Hudgings had calmed down, she only gave me a warning to not run in the halls and ordered me to clean up the mess in the hallway to which I obeyed not wanting to get into more trouble than I already was. I walked into the art room with my shoulders slouched and a blank expression.

Mr. Rivera stops midway through his sentence. From what I understood, he was explaining the result of our last project for his class. The last project that I just ruined mere moments ago. He turns his attention to me just like everyone else.

"Miss Rosewood, glad you could join us today," His voice didn't hint at any kind of sarcasm or disappointment. His usual soft and kind smile plastered on his face. Mr. Rivera had been teaching at Branford College for over 30 years now, and his experience could be seen in his features. For a 50-year-old teacher, he still looked 10 years younger. A few wrinkles adorned his face, and all of them became very evident when he smiled, which is very often.

Most teachers at his age are strict and harsh towards their students, but he was the exact opposite. He was kind and gentle towards his students, which was the reason why he was so loved by his students not only by the art majors.

"Please sit down, Miss Rosewood. Ah! Before that, may I please see your artwork?" He asked, extending his hand. My heart clenches because of this. "I'm sorry, I don't have it," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. I thought that I didn't even say it with how quiet it was.

"What did you say, dear?" He asks, lowering his head slightly to reach my height. "I don't have it," I say a little louder this time. He looks directly into my eye and gives a nod. "Stay after class, Verity. Let's worry about your project later," He instructed and gave my shoulder a comforting squeeze before allowing me to take my seat.

He goes back to talking while I take my seat. I felt uncomfortable. It felt like there were thousands of eyes looking at me right now. I hear them talking in whispers, which I try to drown out. I try not to look at any of them for fear of seeing their faces. I could just imagine it. Their faces turn into an expression that gives away their thoughts about you. Their disappointment and disgustment.

Later on, the bell rings, indicating the end of the subject. Students around me gather their things while I continue to sit in my seat, barely moving and paying attention to anything or anyone. As soon as the last student walks out the door, I stand up and walk over to Mr. Rivera. "Sir," I start, but he just raises his hand, signalling me to stop, and I do.

"What happened, Verity?" He asked, and I lowered my head in shame. I could hear the disappointment in his voice now. "You said you were almost done when I last asked you about your progress. What happened?" My lips tremble, and I fear that if I speak, the tears that are threatening to fall from my eyes will all come running down my face.

"I am quite disappointed, Verity," He says. There it is. The words that I feared he would say. My heart drops to my stomach. Disappointment is an understatement. "I'm sorry," I sobbed while bringing my hand to stop the tears from flowing down but failed miserably. Mr. Rivera took a box of tissues out of his drawers and pushed them towards me, which I thankfully took. "I finished it, I promise. It's just that I woke up late, and then I crashed into Ms. Hudgins and her coffee went all over the canvas," I explained. It was hard to speak with all the sobs and hiccups that kept escaping my mouth. I bet I looked pathetic crying in front of him.

There was a moment of silence on his end. The only thing that could be heard in the room was my sniffling and the occasional hiccups. "I believe that you have finished your project in time, Miss Rosewood. Accidents are bound to happen," He comforted me. He lets out a sigh before continuing, "I am giving you the chance to prove yourself worthy of receiving the same grade I would have given you if you had passed your last project," my head jerks up at his words. "R-really?" I asked him, not believing his words. "Yes, but if you think this is some easy project, you have gravely mistaken," He adds.

"I am giving you until the end of the school year to pass a painting that answers this question, "Who are you?". If you succeed in answering this question, then you shall pass, but if not, you are to have a failed mark on your card. Do you understand me, Miss Rosewood?" I smiled and nodded, accepting his challenge. "You may leave now, Miss Rosewood. You wouldn't want to miss lunch, do you?" Mr. Rivera says. I smiled brightly at him before packing my things to leave.

Hope washed over me at the thought that I would still be able to get into Yale. I walk towards the cafeteria and eat with Asnid.

The rest of the day was all a blur to me. All that I could ever think of was what to do for my project. I wouldn't let Mr. Rivera down. Not this time.

As Asnid and I arrived at our apartment hours later. I was beyond exhausted that I faceplanted myself on the living room couch as soon as we both got in. "Hey Vers," Asnid taps on my shoulder. I hummed in response, not in the mood to lift my head from the couch.

"You got a letter,"

"From who," my voice muffled by the couch's cushion.

"Tobias Hawthorne,"