#harriet fanfiction

[frost-queen]

The little things (Fem!Reader x Harriet)

Requested by: anon  Forever tag: @missmelodramatic​, @theletterhart​, @alex--awesome--22​, @elllie-does-the-posts​, @floatlosers​, @merlieve​, @queen-of-books​, @glimmering-darling-dolly​, @denkisclown​, @wildieflower​, @meyocoko​, @bubblybrianna​, @justanothercoco​ @idkwhatmyusernam,  @subjecta13-thefangirl,  @m-rae23​, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr​  

You touched your cheek feeling the sting of pain. – “Shit!” – you called out. Spitting some blood on the ground. Sonya walked over to you, moving her gun to her back. Her face contracted with sympathetic pain. – “That is for sure going to hurt.” – she said. – “Why did that idiot had to use his gun as a puncher!” – you exclaimed, looking down at the man. – “Well at least have some comfort that he is dead.” – Sonya answered setting her foot on his thigh. 

“Yeah, thanks for that.” – you breathed out. – “No worries. Harriet would have my head if something would’ve happened to you.” – she replied patting your shoulder. You laughed quietly putting your own gun away. Sonya moved her arm around you, walking you back to the vehicle. – “I think Harriet will have my head after seeing this.” – you pointed at the wound on your cheekbone. 

Sonya shrugging her shoulder. – “Maybe today is a good day to die?” – she laughed getting behind the wheel. You hopped in the seat beside her. Dust flying up from underneath the tires. You kept touching the wound, flinching at the pain. Sonya sighed. – “Will you stop touching it, you probably make it worse with your dirty hands.”

“I don’t have…” – you started looking down at your hands. Grinning sheepishly, you tugged them between your legs under Sonya’s ‘told you so’ glance. Sonya drove the truck back to camp. It didn’t take long before Harriet approach the truck. Stopping in shock at the aftermath on your face. You smiled, the only thing missing was you say ‘tadaa’. – “What the hell happened!” – Harriet looked to Sonya, angered. 

Sonya shut the door of the truck hard. – “Some idiot bullet’s ran out so he decided to knock Y/n with his gun.” – Sonya told her. Harriet gaped at you seeing you pull your shoulders up. – “Don’t worry he didn’t lived very long after.” – Sonya said having approached Harriet. Leaving her hand on her shoulder. Sonya looked over her shoulder to you before heading off. You came closer to Harriet, swallowing nervously. – “Sorry…” – you said, eyes down. 

Harriet exhaled relieved, wrapping her arms around you. – “I’m just glad you are alive.” – she spoke hugging you tighter. You hugged her back, needing her comfort. – “Come.” – Harriet said, taking your hand. You followed her through the camp.

She seated you down near a bin that contained burning wood for heat. – “I’ll be right back.” – she said leaning down to kiss your forehead. You nodded watching her head into a tent. A moment later she returned with aiding supplies. Presenting them flirtatious to you. You dramatically waved yourself some cool. – “Oh I am so getting spoiled now.” – you teased when Harriet came sitting down in front of you. 

“Give me one more heart attack and I won’t be so spoiling anymore.” – she commented sarcastically. – “Then I’ll just have to do it for you.” – you answered with a wink. Harriet rolled her eyes at you. – “This might sting Y/n.” – she let you know, putting some liquid on a tissue. She touched your chin to keep your head in place. You flinched making Harriet lower her hand bothered. – “I haven’t even touched you yet.” – she said. 

“I know, I was just preparing.” – you answered. Harriet grabbed your chin firmly wanting to make sure you wouldn’t pull back again. The tissue touched your wound as you bit on your lip, fighting the urge to curs you heart out. – “Told you it would sting.”

“Fffff fuck!” – you blurted, needing to shout something for the pain. Harriet chuckled dapping your wound more. – “You are enjoying this aren’t you?” – you spoke seeing her smile. – “Not at all…” – she answered pressing the tissue deeper onto your wound, making you cringe in pain. – “Okay maybe a little.” – she confessed teasingly with a chuckle. You crossed your arms, finding it anything but funny. 

“Oh come on Y/n. I am just playing around.” – she said lowering her hand. She reached down for a bandage. Before she stuck the bandage on your cheek, she kissed you by surprise. You smiled, kissing her back. Harriet grabbed for your shoulder, taking it. You gulped, pulling away at something sticking on your arm. You looked at your shoulder, seeing the bandage stick half on your skin. 

Harriet laughed loud apologizing. She took a new bandage sticking it over your wound. – “Now you may once more.” – you told her, gesturing for her to kiss you again. – “Yes please.” – Harriet answered kissing you. Her fingers running through your hair.

Later that night you laid on Harriet’s stomach watching the stary sky. Harriet moving her fingers through your hair. Her other hand on yours that laid on your chest. – “Does it still hurt?” – she asked. You shook your head. Harriet’s fingers going through your hair was so soothing it made you sleepy. – “Harriet.” – you said hearing her hum loud in response. – “I love you.” – you needed to say out loud before you’d fall asleep. – “I love you too Y/n. My survivor girl.” – you laughed at the nickname. 

Harriet’s upper body shuddering with laughter as well. You removed your head from her stomach so that she could lay next to you. You snugged up to her, taking a deep breath. Her arms protective over you. – “I’ll always protect you, Y/n.” – she’d whisper. You drifted away, falling asleep from a long day. Harriet kissed your forehead. Enclosing you tighter in her embrace.  

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Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!  

[dearharriet]

hi lovely ! it's milunalupin :)

could i please request remus + "i waited for you" ? 🫶🏼✨

hello my friend, ty for the request!! im working on my big boy fic for james rn but i wanted a little bit of remus as a break <3 (wc: 691)

“You smell good.”

Remus looks at the man taking a seat across from him, appalled by such a comment. Sirius looks equally stunned saying it, wrinkled nose a mirror of Remus’.

“Thank you?”

Sirius shakes his head like this is the wrong response.

“Why do you smell good?”

Remus rolls his eyes, keeping his posture aloof. “Took my annual bath last night.”

Sirius scoffs. “‘Bout time. Your stench was getting harsh on my delicate canine senses.”

That pulls a laugh from Remus, however small.

By the door, he sees you squeezing into the packed pub, side-stepping between rowdy groups of people and looking around. You’re wearing a mid-length skirt, and when you spot the two boys in their booth it swishes around each hasty step.

“Hi,” you breathe, “I’m sorry. They made me start inventory and then I just had to shower and—” Remus stands to offer you some seclusion via the walled side of the bench seat. You wave your rambling apologies away, winded from running around all day. “Nevermind. I need a drink, Remus. Come with?”

“Sit,” he demands softly, “I’ll fetch it.”

You do as you’re told, hanging onto Remus’ words like a takeout fortune, foolishly hopeful that they mean something. If Sirius didn’t demand so much attention, you’d probably turn them over in your head a lot longer, but he really, really does.

“Think you can show us lads up, eh missy?”

Smothering a smile, you stare Sirius down with false bluntness.

“Yep. You’re lucky I even came at all, honestly.”

Sirius laughs, spinning his glass, half empty and through sweating. You realize his drink is the only one on the table.

“I’m surprised you did. You’re so popular, but you stay humble for us.”

“I have to,” you agree, “I could’ve been with people a lot cooler than you guys, but I just felt so bad. You and Remus don’t have anyone else to hang out with now that James is married.”

“Moony, we’re being bullied,” says Sirius, raising his voice a touch to reach the boy in question. Remus places two new drinks on the maple tabletop, sliding in close to you.

“I’m sure we deserve it,” he says, passing one of the fresh glasses off to you. “We’re turning into losers.”

You bring the cool glass to your lips, relaxing further into the familiar booth cushion and eyeing Remus’ new drink.

“Is that your second?”

Remus shakes his head. “My first.”

He tracks your brows as they pull together. They’d been here almost a half hour already.

“I waited for you,” he explains, smiling gently. Your stomach leaps.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

Sirius jumps in, stepping on Remus’ toes.

“That’s what I told him,” he says, “I said you’re too sweet to mind.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Remus says, following up Sirius’ heel. His voice is still wearing the crooning silk he tends to direct towards you. “It’s the polite thing to do. Sirius just has poor manners.”

Across the way, the man in question sputters objections while you try not to laugh.

“I—I’m impolite? I’m impolite! Please. She’s the only one at this table who was late to a hangout one block away from her apartment. I had every right to drink my sorrows away.”

Remus ducks his head and shoots you a cat-like grin, but Sirius isn’t done.

“And it’s not being polite if you’re motivated by a massive crush, Moony, by the way. D’you know he’s wearing cologne?”

You stare at Sirius, because the alternative of looking at Remus (who is flushed beyond measure) is akin to a death sentence.

“Yes,” you admit. You’d smelled it on him when he stood up earlier, a fresh earthy scent that was too sharp to be soap. Sirius points at your face like he’s caught you.

“See? The only people who notice a guy wearing cologne are his miserable best mates, and girls who want to be waited on.” Remus shoots him a glare and he throws his hands up as if to say, sue me. “I’m just helping.”

Remus curses through an exhale and drops his head into his hands.

+

thank you for reading! xx

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join the celebration! 🩷

[rwac96]

CEO Schnee (RWBY AU)

Weiss: "It's my greatest honor to take my mother's place as the CEO of the SDC, to continue restoring the company's good name."

Harriet: *deadpan* "Why the hell are we here with this nepobaby?"

Elm: "It was either this or look after her father's cell."

Weiss: "First order of business, get rid of any of my father's cronies, sycophants, or anybody who is scheming to discredit me."

Yang: *bored* "Uh, why are we here?"

Ruby: "Team Solidarity!"

Yang: *groans* "Gods, I wished I had gone with Blake to her island...but she's busy with being chieftain."

Ruby: "Yang, I know our friends seem busy with stuff in a now Post-Salem world, but...it hey, we're still a team."

Weiss: *holding a violet Dust vial* "Okay, I don't wanna know what my father intended to do with this! Gods, this is going to be a long first few weeks."

Atlas Aristocrat: *irate* "Miss Schnee, did I just hear about you approving equal wages for those animals?!"

Weiss: *glares* "Faunus, Karin! This isn't the SDC under Jacques Schnee, you adulterous cow! That's right...I know about you and your gardener!"

[lilyerida]

Harriet from The Never-ending Road by @laventadorn is my cruuuush 🥺

[snapesmorningcoffee]

👉🏻👈🏻

[taylorsterryart]

Fanart for “The Neverending Road” by @laventadorn

.

.

This fic is pretty old at this point but I reread it so often. Poor Sev just wants to keep Harriet alive but she’s got swords to steal and basilisks to slay. Alternate tittle: “Albus, come get your goddamn bird”.

[bucket-barnes]

Memories: Harry Hook

(That’s right, I’ve done it again, this time in my psych class. Have fun)

Harry has a few memories of his mother. He remembers her watching as his dad taught him to sword fight, how she always called him “kiddo”… and how she was the only person he ever heard say “I love you”

Harry was six when he started hearing things. It started small, hearing someone call his name when no one was there, hearing clock ticking when he wasn’t anywhere near his family’s shop…but then he started seeing things too. As he got older the voices became louder and the visions more clear, he’d always seem out of it, his maniacal laughter scaring people away and seeming unable to focus…but then there was Uma. Uma wasn’t afraid of him, she trusted him, she saw him as an ally, someone to be kept around…Harry liked having Uma around

Harry was ten when his mother died…sickness, a terrible way to go, really. He would always sit with mother while she lied in bed, he’d always tell her about what was happening that day, sometimes even bring her back a little gift that he “bought” from Jafar’s junk shop. His favorite thing he ever got her was a little pocket watch, it was damaged and stuck at 11:30, but it had a little design engraved on the back… a swan craning out it’s neck, surrounded in a frame of vines and roses, he always loved that watch

The day his mother died, Harry sat with her and told her about what happened that day, how he and Uma pulled a prank on Cruella deville and didn’t get caught, how Harriet beat up a guy who called Captain Hook weak, and how he even saw a little dove by the docks…though that one wasn’t real, just him seeing things again. When his mother died, Harry saw his father cry for the first time, Harriet tried so hard to shield him from everything, but there was no hiding him from that. Harry hugged his father tight and tried to tell him it’s ok and that everything will be alright, just like Harriet would do for him…but then the voices came, and it wasn’t just whispering, they were loud and saying terrible things, it eventually got so bad he had to let go of his father and sit in his room with his sisters until it got silent again

Harry was eleven when he gained a reputation. Harriet always told him that if the voices got bad to go find her, but Harry added an extra step, if the voices got bad…play it up, laugh, smile, whatever, just act insane so people stay out of the way. Harry had gained the reputation of “Hook’s psycho son” though that didn’t stop his classmates from giving him heart eyes, so he also became the Isle’s heartbreaker, which wasn’t necessarily a bad reputation to have once he got a little older. Always feared, or a fantasy

Harry was sixteen when the hallucinations were at their worst. Everyday there were visions of violence and carnage, and the voices…the voices were the worst part, always yelling, always saying horrible, horrible things. Harry’s day always started with whatever strange medications Harriet found on the barges, and ended with him throwing up over the edge of the lost revenge. Uma and Gil would always stay close to him, tell him when what he was seeing was or wasn’t real, guide him away from prying eyes when the visions and voices got bad, and would help sell the act of his insanity…he had a reputation to keep up after all. One voice always stood out from the others, it wasn’t loud or vicious, it was soft and gentle…always saying “I love you”, it was the one voice Harry didn’t mind…reminded him of his mother

Harry was eighteen when he joined his father for a drink. He had indulged plenty of times, always with Uma and the rest of the crew, but never with his father. Harry’s vision of his father had been shattered long ago after he caught his father three bottles deep, swearing him out for a menagerie of things he did or didn’t do through mournful cries, though Harry didn’t really hold it against him…he knew his father was just trying to numb the pain of well, everything. The barrier has been down for a few months and Harry was getting overwhelmed, Auradon was a lot to take in and the hallucinations weren’t helping. On a crisp autumn night, Harry went down to the Jolly Rodger, sat down next to his father, and took a swig of rum. The two men talked through the night, about Auradon, Harry’s visions and the voices in his head, and about all the things Hook tried to numb, the pain of losing his wife, the pain of his oldest daughter growing up to fast, the pain of his only son hearing and seeing things that weren’t there, and the pain of his youngest daughter never truly knowing her mother.

That night, Harry barely slept, his mind was rattled by the rum and the voices were so loud, and yet, he could still here one… “I love you”

[hannahhook7744]

Fate's A Bitch!;

Summary: The WORST™ thing that could happen to Anthony has happened. He's gotten a SOUL MARK. His grandmother will be so disappointed. Trigger Warnings: broken bones, minor violence, toxic friendships (pre-relationship), children being medics, swearing, panicking, dysfunctional relationships, etc.

Translations: Je m'en fous ! Je l'utilise pour une raison, alors fais chier, Dorothy!= I don't give a fuck! I'm using it for a reason, so piss off, Daphne! Oh, putain, quel gâchis.= Oh for fuck's sake, what a mess. 

Happy Valentine's Day and hope you enjoy your gift, @panthera-tigris-venenata !

—————————————————————————

It had been nine weeks since ‘Captain’ Harriet Alice Hook had broken Anthony’s nose after he had said something that, in hindsight, the thirteen year old knew was particularly stupid even for him. 

NIne weeks. 

And, according to Marya Rasputin—The Queen’s Fury’s self-appointed medic—, it took only about six weeks or less for a broken nose to heal with or without medical treatment depending on how severe the fracture was. And that any bruising around his nose or eyes should have gone away in two to three weeks. But it had been NINE and the knuckle shaped bruising on his nose hadn’t gone away and neither had the bruising on Harriet’s knuckles.

And, despite what many people liked to believe, Anthony wasn’t stupid—no matter how many stupid things he might have said in the past.

He knew that the ‘bruise’ on his nose was too red to be just a bruise.

He just didn’t want to admit it.

Because if he did, then he’d have to admit what it really was and destroy any and all credibility he had as a pirate (it was a pure miracle Harriet hadn’t kicked him out for disrespecting her) and as both the noble Lord Tremaine and an isle kid. Something he absolutely refused to do. 

Because if he did do that, his grandmother would be disappointed and then the rest of the adults would get mad at her for being disappointed, and it’d cause a fight so loud that everyone on the isle would know that Anthony had a soul mark. Then he’d be seen as weak and everyone younger than him in the family would be seen as free game to mess with. 

Something that couldn’t happen.

Anthony groaned, placing his head in his hands after giving up on trying to wipe the mark off in the hopes that it had simply been hair dye that had somehow gotten on his nose. “Oh, putain, quel gâchis.”

Only to jump when someone banged on the door. 

“Anthony, will you hurry up! There are other people in the house who need the bathroom!”

“Je m'en fous ! Je l'utilise pour une raison, alors fais chier, Dorothy!” Anthony snapped, more than a little tired and freaked out. 

“You can do your hair in your own room!”

“Oh shut up and go away!”

“Fine, Lord Tremaine,“ The brunette said mockingly. “But I’m telling your mom and mine that you swore at me!”

And with that, Dorothy walked away—causing Anthony to snap out of his wallowing and scramble for the door in all of his thirteen year old glory. His soul mark problem temporarily forgotten. 

 “No wait! Dorothy, wait!” 

[humaforever]

Descendants gift exchange: @panthera-tigris-venenata.

I thought it would be interesting if the characters also did secret Santa, so here it is, please enjoy

[frost-queen]

Newt

• The cure 

Thomas

• New Glader 

Gally

•  Run to me 

Harriet

• The Scorch (Fem!Reader)

• The little things (Fem!Reader)

[dearharriet]

congrats on 150!! for your celebration can I please have 🫧 with sirius black + “oh, that’s new”? Maybe reader got a tattoo without telling him and he likes it

thank you for requesting! 🩷 (wc: 664)

Sirius can’t stop staring at you in the sauna towel you’re wearing. You’ve both been in for several minutes now, and you’re relaxing more and more into the wood bench. He’s not sure he’s ever seen your shoulders so far away from your ears, and he’s definitely never seen your hair pulled off your neck the way that it is.

It gives him too much skin to work with, visually speaking. You’re completely free and clear of any curtains, your skin sticky with dew, legs sprawling and bare. The two of you make a happy sight.

As the air thins down, you stretch up and ladle more water over the hot rocks. Sirius watches a bead of sweat race down the back of your neck with rapt attention. He loses sight of it when he spots your tattoo.

“Oh,” he breathes, a strange twisting in his chest, “that’s new, yeah?”

You hum breezily, pouring one more generous scoop onto the hissing stones before giving him your questioning eyes.

“What’s new?” Sirius brings a hand up to absently rub at his own bare nape, and you seem to catch his meaning, sweeping your fingers over it bashfully. “Oh, that. Yeah. You’ve seen it haven’t you?”

He shakes his head no. “When was this?”

“Umm,” you dally. “Like a week and some ago? I wasn’t really planning it at all.”

Sirius watches you carefully, perhaps reading a small bit too far into your rosy flush. The air in the steam room is thick and hot now, thanks to you, which could easily be the cause. Still, you’ve retreated from him slightly, holding your arms nervously over your torso.

“Can I see?” Sirius requests, beckoning you to his side of the room. You oblige him, standing and relocating to the spot on his right.

You face your back to him, pushing away nonexistent baby hairs to clear the view. Sirius tentatively takes your neck under his fingers, holding you still.

It’s worse up close, which is to say dangerous for his health. He can’t believe what he’s looking at.

“You got a star,” he says distantly, not quite trusting his voice to keep steady. A star.

Your head falls forward and Sirius marvels at the way your tattoo stretches, wraps tight over your vertebrae.

“Like I said, it was a spur-of-the-moment thing.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, “right.”

Reluctantly, Sirius peels himself away from you, returning stiffly to the cedar bench. His skin feels alive, thrumming with heat.

You settle back beside Sirius instead of returning to your bench.

“Is it what you hoped?” he asks, half to break the tension and half because he’d really like to know.

You nod, and Sirius’ eyes train down to the black shape again, unable to resist now that it’s right there.

“Yeah. I always wanted something for my neck, but I never could decide what.” You’re picking at your towel wrap awkwardly, sickly aware of Sirius’ hot gaze on you. You knew for a fact he hadn’t seen the tattoo yet, and you were almost dreading when he'd finally catch sight of it.

“I like it,” he says in passionate agreement. “I really, really like it.”

Your lips twitch into a smile, and you throw a sideways glance his way. “Yeah?” He nods avidly, and you release a relieved laugh. “I was hoping you would.”

“Can I see it one more time?” he asks. You laugh some more.

“Um, okay. Yeah.”

Sirius stares at the ink for another long minute, long enough for you to begin fidgeting with impatience.

“Yeah,” he concludes finally, “you’ll have to show this off more. Keep your hair up like this, maybe?”

Puffing in amusement, you peek over your shoulder shyly. “If you say so.”

“I say so,” he laughs. “I definitely say so.”

Stomach swooping with butterflies, you face forward again, trying to retain some semblance of composure.

“Well, okay then.” You sit back, relaxing some, milling in the warmth you feel inside and out.

+

thank you for reading! xx

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join the celebration!

[somesortofinsideout]

If you're an Emily Henry fan (especially a fan of her book Happy Place), I started a fic on Ao3 that tells the story of Sabrina and Parth's relationship. We never got to see exactly how they got together, so I had to fix that!

[snapesmorningcoffee]

✨When you turn your comfort fanfiction to book ✨

Snape’s Cat is one of my favorite fanfiction all time by @loneamaryllis it can be reading free on AO3

This is my second fanfiction bookbinding i know i had a lot way to make it perfect but until that, i am happy with results.

[professional-termite]

i totally forgor how fun writing aus is. like kent is from dallas and he lives in his car and has religous trauma because. i said so :)))) harriet and leota both worked in law enforcement because. i felt like it :DDDDD the mariner, the hitchhiking ghosts, and that one guy with the dog are ben and bruce's neighbors in their apartment complex because. why not ((((:

[ricardian-werewolf]

Chapter 7: Marian ****

Wordcount: 2.8k

CW/TWs: none.

"A summer restorative in Southern England brings with it news of a certain Dramatis Personae, and the introduction of a man described thus: 'Damnably handsome. Brave in battle, smart as a whip. An excellent dancer, oh, and an even better shot.' Richard and Anne must contend with news that upends their established plans, and in turn, show their own cards." ***** Ao3 Link. Scene clip below.

“Ah.” The man looked almost confused as he walked towards them, then halted a mere few feet away from Anne and Richard. He seemed surprised Richard hadn’t signaled for his guards - they’d be chomping at the bit to protect their king. “My sincere apologies for causing a fright,” he dropped his voice and noted Kathryn and Johnny peering anxiously up at him. “Who are you?” Richard growled, getting to his feet swiftly. His fingers itched to grab his sword, but noting Ned unconscious in the man’s arms stayed his hand.  “Sturmhond, privateer, captain of the Volkvolny…” the boy began. “-You’re the one who landed in Liverpool at Christmas!” Richard breathed, cutting him off with a sharp glare. “The first ship in a decade… How?” “A Long story,” Sturmhond mentally wrung his hands. “Much to be explained over a cup of brandy…” he tried to grin, but returned to grimacing. Richard’s eyebrows shot up. “How did you find our son?” Be calm. Sturmhond chided himself. No use blurting out who you really are . “His dragon caught an arrow to the wing in Sheffield. I…” Sturmhond broke off again. How do I explain what I was doing there? How do I explain the wings, the teeth? The sight of Cecily-Anne’s green eyes burning brighter than a noon-day sun as Jane drew the radiation from her rotting body? HOW?

[bucket-barnes]

Memories: Calista Jane Hook

(It seems my inspiration always strikes during my classes- enjoy the completion to the memories trio I thought up during my finals)

CJ would be the first to admit that she didn’t really remember her mother, though she looked the most like her, she was the only one of her siblings to get their mother’s blonde hair and most facial features, but there’s one thing her siblings have that she doesn’t…the memories

CJ doesn’t remember how old she was when her mother died, just that she was young, her memories of that time are spotty. She remembered Harry sitting by their mother’s bedside and bringing her small little trinkets and talking to her, she remembered Harriet taking them to Ursula’s fish and chips and her yelling at the men who made fun of their father. There was really only one memory CJ had of her mother dying that was truly her’s, sometimes, her father would lift her up and sit her on her mother’s bed so CJ could cuddle with her, she’d always put her little head on her mother’s chest where she could hear the fluttering of her heart while her father ran his hand through her mother’s hair…she remembers liking those days. The day her mother passed, CJ was being held by Harriet who kept whispering to her that everything was gonna be ok while holding back her own tears…why was she crying? Why was their father crying? Why was Harry hugging him?

CJ was seven when she became her father’s shadow, or…at least whenever Harriet would let her know if their father was feeling good enough to be above deck. CJ was aware of her father’s alcoholism, she knew it made him angry, and when he was angry she had to stay in her room with Harry while Harriet dealt with him. CJ liked her dad on the days he didn’t drink, he’d sit above deck with her and tell her stories of all the adventures he went on, sometimes he’d teach her how to sail, though only while the Jolly Roger was anchored, her favorite days were when they’d go into town and her dad would take her to watch Gaston’s “duels without rules” something he didn’t do with her siblings, only her…it felt special

CJ was thirteen when she snuck into Auradon, she was honestly surprised they hadn’t found her yet, she was hiding in Freddie’s dorm room. She missed her siblings, she wondered about them a lot…not like she could do anything else. She’d think about Harriet, was she worried about her? Was she getting along with their dad alright? How was Harry? Were the voices getting too much? Was he even still alive!? When CJ found herself starting to spiral, she’d pull out the one thing she had from her mother, a little photo of her as baby in her mother’s arms. She’d run her finger over the photo and study it…she really did look like her

CJ never joined her father for a drink, she had rum once with Harry and she thought it was gross, so she just sat with her dad on the deck of the Jolly Roger and listen as he drunkenly rambled about everything in life that had done him wrong. It was a chill spring night, and CJ was sitting with her father, he had been a couple drinks in and had begun to cry, crying about his pain, the pain of losing his wife, the pain of his eldest daughter having to grow up too fast, the pain of his son hearing and seeing things that weren’t there…and the pain of his youngest daughter never truly knowing her mother. CJ didn’t want to see her father cry, so she scooted closer to him and put her head on his shoulder, he eventually wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer to him, she let her head fall onto his chest…she could hear his heartbeat, it reminded her of when she was little, with her mother, only his wasn’t a gentle flutter, but a low, sorrowful drum, echoing with a lifetime of loss

CJ fell asleep in her father’s arms that night, she may not have known her mother…but she got to know her father, maybe not who he wanted to be, but who he became.