Heyy, you can call me Motley or Motts & this is where else you can find me :: ao3 wattpad twitter spotify letterboxd
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𓆩𓆪 she/they, ‘03 baby, black, found footage enthusiast , writer, retired emo kid, passive kpop stan, horror lover, carlisle cullen enthusiast, dilf obsessed, lover of things that bite & go bump in the night, houseplant hoarder
𓏲ּ𝄢 fav artists :: halsey, sza, fiona apple, pj harvey, bôa, deftones, mac miller, radiohead, nine inch nails, wilt, paramore, megan thee stallion, hannah bahng, cloudyfield, julia wolf, billie eilish
ꨄ fav movie & shows :: lord of the rings, twilight, jurassic park, frankenstein, supernatural , the walking dead, bobs burgers, midsommer, if i cant have love i want power, captain america: the winter soldier , signs
× fic tags :: #motley: writing ramblings ,#motley: we are all sinners , #motley: lovely things , #motley: double dutch , #motley: sweet pea , #motley: the fog
Sophronia spent the majority of her free time at home. Her house and the land around it were empty except for herself and her dogs, and with that emptiness came the ability for her to relax.
She didn't have to hide when she was at home. She could relax fully, let her guard down, and respond to the sluagh aloud. She didn't have to fake a shiver when the wind blew, blink away raindrops that landed on her lashes. She didn't have to fake being alive.
Sophronia was allowed to do a lot less, and the Sluagh were allowed to do more. Dead things have a habit of clinging to routines and habits they had when they were living.
And so, while Sophronia sat on the living room floor in front of the roaring fireplace and flipped through the pages of her latest mystery novel, the house around her buzzed like people were living inside.
A chessboard sat on the coffee table behind her, and the slow, almost rhythmic tapping of the pieces on the wooden board had been going on for several hours now.
The smell of cooking chicken, sauteed vegetables, and something baking wafted from the kitchen and throughout the rest of the house, along with the sounds of dishes being washed.
Outside, all three dogs could be heard panting hard and running even harder as they chased a ball thrown by an unseen force. The freedom that came with a small town like Forks was the only thing that kept her here for over two years. If it were any other town or if the people lived closer to her, all of the stares, whispers, and invasive questions that were thrown at her when she first arrived would've been enough to chase her away.
Chicago was worse; the city was busy, and her apartment was small with walls so thin that the only thing they blocked was sight. The dogs didn't have the luxury of spending entire days outside as they do in Forks. The Sluagh didn't have the luxury of doing anything besides bothering Sophronia and making her constantly agitated.
Several small glass bottles of nail polish clattered onto the floor beside Sophronia's bare leg as a soft voice spoke behind her.
'Pick a color, Grim.'
The mortician dog-eared the page she was on and placed her book on the floor before leaning over to look at the different bottles.
There were six different colors.
Green, the pigment was so dark that it was almost identical to the color of the grass and moss that covered the Forks Forest's floor like a living carpet.
White, the color wasn't as glossy and pure as a pearl; instead, it was slightly yellowed and matte like bone.
Blue, this was the only other light color besides the bone white polish. The polish was cool-toned and subtle, and looked surprisingly similar to the light blue shirts that Carlisle wears to the hospital. Sophronia couldn't help but smile at the thought before looking at the next color.
Brown, the color was rich and earthy with red undertones like cedar tree bark and iron-rich clay.
Gold, bright and yellow like the signet ring she always wore on her finger, and the thin necklace she kept in the drawer of her bedside table.
Black, the color was dark like squid ink and reminded her too much of funeral attire.
Sophronia blue nail polish, held it out to nothing, and watched as it lifted out of her palm. The top of the bottle unscrewed, and the same voice that had spoken previously talked again, but this time from in front of her.
'I'll do your pedicure first so you can keep reading.'
Cold, invisible fingers wrapped around one of her ankles, straightened her foot, and began painting.
── ⭑ ☆ ⭑ ──
Carlisle kneeled in the dirt, focused on assembling the raised garden beds that Emmett and Jasper had brought home, and listened to his sister, Esme, as she rambled about what she wanted to plant for the fall.
She'd decided that their home in Forks was the perfect place to start a small garden. A small section of trees had been cut down the same week that they'd moved back in, and, much to Emmett's dismay, she'd decided to scrap her plans for installing a pool.
"The idea is to plant seeds for ingredients that can go into everything. Garlic, Onion, Carrots. We can also plant either Kale, Spinach, or Lettuce. They're all good for soup, and soup is perfect for the fall and winter." With every new crop listed, she slapped down a packet of seeds right in front of him and pointed off to where she wanted him to put another raised bed.
Soup was also one of the only things that Esme could cook perfectly, considering her inability to properly taste human food.
Carlisle can't help but frown at the plant of wood in his hands before speaking, "What type of soup do you put lettuce into?" He'd been helping his sister make food for soup kitchens, fundraisers, and different shelters for several decades now, and not once had they made soup with lettuce in it.
"Lettuce soup. Flowers can go on the side of the house and on the kitchen windowsill. Which do you think would be better, Snapdragons or Mums?"
She holds the flower seeds up, one in each hand, and looks at Carlisle the same way that Alice does when she forces her adoptive dad to go shopping with her.
After Jasper had one too many accidents at a mall, he was barred from shopping in public, and instead, Alice rotated through the different Cullen men and used them as bag carriers and card swipers.
"Herbs can be indoors. Basil, Parsley, Cilantro. Oh, and these too." She tosses two packs of seeds directly in front of Carlisle and looks over at him with a teasing grin.
One packet is labeled Mint, and the other Rosemary. He can't help but laugh at his sister's terrible attempt at subtlety. She'd been trying to get him to tell her something, anything, about Sophronia every time he came home hours after his shift at the hospital ended.
"And what type of soup would these go into?" He couldn't help himself; he loved being selfish when it came to sharing information about Sophronia. The only information that his family knew about her was anything that was impossible to keep a secret.
She smelled of mint and rosemary, and he always smelled faintly of both whenever he walked into the house after spending time with her.
She was human, just not in the way they expected and not in a way that would put them in danger—he only told them this so that Rosalie and Edward would be slightly at ease with the idea of him spending time with her.
The third and fourth were something that Rosalie and Edward went out of their way to learn. Before Carlisle had the opportunity to attempt to ease their minds, the siblings made their way around Forks, eavesdropping and gossiping until they learned two interesting things about the mortician.
Despite living in Forks for over two years now and being kind and polite to everyone she interacts with, Sophronia had no friends in the town.
The waitress at the Carver Cafe only had good things to say about Sophronia because she covered the cost of her mother's autopsy and funeral, as well as regularly tipping large sums of money that allowed her to keep her late mother's house.
After learning this about Sophronia, they returned home feeling only slightly guilty for assuming the worst about her, and that minuscule amount of guilt was doubled when Carlisle sought them out in an attempt to smooth things over with them.
"Nothing. I just figured you'd like the way they smell. We could put them in your office if you wanted."
Bonnie absentmindedly played with the food on her tray as she faked listening to Mike Newton complain.
"Mr.Varner's already talking about a big exam next week as if the school year didn't just start. I mean, c'mon, you haven't even had time to teach us anything. I can't even remember which seat I was assigned to. And he's trying to give us a test already."
The junior had been ranting about his trigonometry teacher to anyone who would listen since lunch started half an hour ago, but Bonnie had stopped paying him any attention the moment Alice Cullen had sat down at her siblings' lunch table.
"Mike, c'mon man, Varner's probably the chillest teacher you'll get all year." Tyler, who was endlessly supportive of his teammates, was the only one at the table who still focused on what Mike had to say.
"He was the football coach my freshman year; he knows you're on the team, so as long as you're not screwing around during class, he'll pass you, easy."
Bonnie sat sandwiched between Jessica and Angela, who talked around her as if she didn't even exist. But she really didn't care; instead, the girl kept taking sneaky glances across her lunch table to where Alice Cullen sat with two of her brothers.
Jasper Hale and Edward Cullen. Both boys sat across from Alice, watching her as she pointed animatedly at something that sat on the table in front of her.
Even though her back was to the rest of the cafeteria, Bonnie was still able to envision a wide, mauve colored smile on Alice's face. Maybe it was because of the future she'd seen, or maybe it was just difficult to imagine Alice with any expression other than the one she had most often.
The beeswax and berry-flavored lipstick buffers the sweet taste of her mouth.
Bonnie's stomach flipped as the memory intruded on her thoughts, and she dropped her eyes to her lunch tray. It felt wrong to think about kissing someone she hadn't even talked to before, especially when she sat in the same room as her.
"Which one do you think she's dating?" Bonnie jumped as Jessica whispered into her ear. She hadn't noticed that both Jessica and Angela were watching her as she watched Alice and her brothers.
'I brought a present for you, Bon.'
"What?"
"I mean, you know Rosalie and Emmett are together, and those three don't talk to anyone but each other." Jessica gives her head a not-so-subtle nod in their direction while she talks. "You don't think she's dating one of them, too? I think she might be with Jasper. They're both weird enough."
"I think you're being weird, Jess." Bonnie pushed her tray away from her and looked over at Jessica with a disapproving look. She never liked the way that Jessica's only hobby seemed to be gossiping about people and starting rumours.
"How am I weird? They're the ones who think dating their sibling is—."
"They're not even related, Jess. They're all adopted, remember?" Angela piped up from the other side of Bonnie before Jessica could even finish her sentence, "They could just be, you know, shy or antisocial or something."
The entire Cullen family had been a little reserved since they moved to Forks two years ago.
They only sat with each other. They only talked to each other. And Bonnie—just like every other student at Forks High—assumed that they only dated each other, too.
Everyone found out about Emmett and Rosalie the same week that the Cullens arrived. No one really had to ask either, since the two didn't shy away from pda.
They were always bold as a couple, even from the beginning. They didn't shy away from holding hands, kissing, or calling each other gross pet names in the hallway.
But, as much as everyone noticed, they also didn't care enough to talk about it for longer than a month. Because as odd as the Cullens were and as much as they stood out among the rest of the students, they were a short-lived oddity.
As much as the Cullens stuck out like a sore thumb, they also didn't give the rest of the town anything new to gawk at, unless you were like Jassica Stanley and could conjure up new gossip on a whim.
Bonnie peeked back up at the Cullen table only to see Edward Cullen looking directly at her. His eyes bore into Bonnie's as if he could sense what she was thinking about his sister, and before Bonnie could even think about it, she was out of her seat and pulling the strap to her tote bag over her shoulder.
"Ty, I'm skipping last period, so don't wait up for me after class."
"You're skipping art?" Tyler looked at her and then glanced at the Cullen table through the corner of his eye. Of course, he'd noticed his best friend being weird while talking about what he thought was a random crush and the possibility of her dating one of her adoptive brothers. "Uh, are you sick or something, Bee?"
"No, I just don't feel like going to class."
"You don't feel like going to class?" "I wonder why."
"You know why." Bonnie's voice was clipped as she responded to Tyler one last time before walking towards the exit of the cafeteria that led to the school staff parking lot, "I'm leaving, you should pick me up from the cafe on your way home, though."
"Yeah, ok, get me a burger though. No mayo, no tomatoes, extra ketchup."
── ⭑ ☆ ⭑ ──
Alice was always silently intrigued by the students at Forks High, just as she was by the student body of every school she'd attended since joining the Cullens.
As boring and mundane as human lives were, Alice had no recollection of hers and considered being able to sit back and watch the way her human peers lived was the next best thing.
She was always the one to decide when it was time for her and her siblings to enroll in school again. Much to her siblings' disdain, she made that decision more often than not. But on top of the free, simple human entertainment that came with being back in school, Alice wasn't bombarded with visions of the future when she focused on everyone at school rather than on her vampire family.
But even while she was allowed to be self-indulgent when it came to surrounding herself with human peers, Alice—along with the rest of the Cullen Coven—still had rules.
The rules that Alice had to follow compared to her "adoptive siblings" were nearly doubled, and they're anything but simple.
No relationships—friendly, romantic, or anything else.
No interfering with their future—and if she just can't help it, then she needs to stop looking.
No having favorites, no keeping tabs—humans die, and no one thought it was worth the heartache of keeping tabs on one until the inevitable happened. This was the same rule they had for pets.
But even with Alice knowing the rules, helping come up with the rules, and having the almost seventy-year habit of following them, time only made it more difficult to care about them.
So during lunch, when Edward leaned over to her and whispered that Bonnie Sinclair had dreamed about Alice kissing her in her bedroom, Alice thought that maybe the rules could be put on hold for a moment.
"You see, Jazz, a little rebellion is a big part of the whole teenager experience. I think we'd fit in a lot more if we let loose a little." The two walked in sync as they made their way through the school's parking lot towards Jasper's car.
"Right, and my lettin' loose, I reckon you mean runnin' after that girl that Edward was talkin' about?" Now that they were out of school and away from the thick smell of human blood, Jasper was able to relax and let his guard down enough to properly judge Alice and her poor decision-making.
"'That girl' is called Bonnie. And, I wouldn't be running after her." Alice knocks an elbow into Jasper's rib before opening the car door and sliding inside, "I'd just be letting her know that I'm an option."
"Except you're not an option, Allie." The engine of Jasper's car purred as he pulled out of the lot and sped down the road. "You'd be puttin' Bonnie at risk by even being friends with her."
"You say that like I wouldn't be able to protect her or at least nudge her out of the path of anything dangerous."
"No, Allie, I'm sayin' like she's human. Fragile. You bumpin' her outta the way might be what hurts her." Between the two Japser was always the logical thinker. He was the one who made plans so frustratingly foolproof that Alice sometimes thought he'd be better off as the one who could see the future.
"Now don't get all mopey on me. I'm just tellin' you to think things through. Consider more than yourself." Jasper brings his free hand up to ruffle Alice's hair affectionately.
"Fine. But don't tell Carlisle or Esme. Let me think through everything on my own."
Bonnie wandered towards the sound of her mom's music with her mind still reeling from the dream she had had. Hand in My Pocket by Alanis Morissette echoed from the kitchen and met her at the end of the hall, where the doors to her and her mom's bedrooms were.
Through the sound of Alanis's singing and the smooth strumming of the guitar, Bonnie could also hear the clattering of her mother—Savannah Sinclair—as she busied herself with making breakfast for the two. A metal spoon scraping against the inside of a pot while bacon sizzles in a pan.
"You up, honey-bon?" Her mom's soft voice called out from the kitchen moments before the teapot on the stove started whistling. "You've got that damned cat screaming at the back door in the morning, waking me up. I already told you not to encourage it, and now it won't leave us alone."
Bonnie steps into the kitchen and sees that her mom is already dressed and ready to drive out to Seattle for work. The older woman is dressed in a white long-sleeved button-up blouse that's tucked into her favorite slate grey pencil skirt. She's wearing a pair of Bonnie's brown kitten heels on her feet.
Her thick curly hair is still straightened from her annual haircut, so instead of the braids that she usually has, it's pulled back and twisted up into a French Roll.
"I don't want it to leave us alone, Mama. That's my cat now." The cat, Bonnie's cat, is a little black stray that started showing up at the Sinclairs back door three months ago. She'd shown up randomly when Bonnie was home alone and— ignoring all her mom's warnings about fleas and ticks and whatever else—she still went outside and spent the next two hours petting the little stray.
"Hm, well, you and your cat are gonna have to go on somewhere else if it keeps waking me up before the sun is even up." Savannah places a plate of food onto the kitchen counter for Bonnie and moves to pack her own breakfast into a plastic container.
"She's a good cat, Mama, she doesn't even try to get into the house or anything." Bonnie pulls her mug and her mom's travel mug out of the cabinet above the sink, then reaches for the teapot.
After five years of only them living together, the two Sinclair women had built an easy morning routine.
Savannah gets up early to get dressed for work and make breakfast.
By the time breakfast is done, Bonnie is up.
She makes tea for them both, they eat breakfast together, and then Bonnie does her mom's makeup so that she can start her drive to Seattle.
And when Bonnie is finally alone, she goes out back to feed her cat an egg she boiled the night before.
"I hope not, because you and the cat will be outside." Her mom slides the container of food across the counter closest to the door and moves to sit at the kitchen table, where her makeup bag lies open. "You dream up good?"
With both mugs of tea in hand, Bonnie walks over to the kitchen table and sits right next to her mother.
"Umm.. It was something." Bonnie hadn't hesitated to tell her mom about a dream since she foresaw the divorce. But even though the two were close, it still felt a little too personal to tell her mom about the overly affectionate dream she had about one of her classmates.
About Alice Cullen.
"Something good?" Yes, it was good, but not the type of good you tell your mom over breakfast.
"Uh, something something. Wasn't bad, but it was—something." Bonnie pulls out a tube of mascara and motions for her mom to close her eyes as she fumbles through an explanation. "It was different, that's all. But I got a present, so that was nice."
"Something something? Girl, what in the world does that mean? Do I need to worry about you and this something?" Her eyes are open and peering at her daughter the moment Bonnie pulls the mascara wand away from her face.
"Nope. Keep your eyes closed, or you'll smudge." Eyebrows, concealer, and foundation are next. All three are applied as slowly and precisely as every piece of artwork Bonnie works on.
"Good, well, what was the present? Who gave it to you?" Her mom does her best not to move her face as she speaks and taps at Bonnie's knee to get her talking.
"Don't know. I woke up before I could open it, but the box was cute. I think I'm gonna put my buttons in it when I get it."
Bronzer, blush, and then setting powder are next, and Savannah holds her hands over both mugs, blocking them from the puffs of powdery makeup.
"Right, right, and who gave it to you?"
"Umm." Bonnie can only mumble before her mom cuts her off.
"You know what, never mind. If you're going to lie about it, then just keep it to yourself." Lipstick is next, and it's mauve. The color is darker, more brown than pink, but it still reminds her of the mauve-painted lips from her dream.
The color suits her mom's bronzey brown skin tone, and momentarily, she's reminded of the time she tried on this same shade and almost cried because of the way it looked in comparison to her mom.
That was when her mom explained color theory to her, and Bonnie started to fall in love with art.
"I don't want to lie to you about it. I just don't talk to them, so I don't know why they'd be giving me anything that's all." She leans back to take a look at her mom's makeup before clapping and putting everything away. "'Kay, I'm done."
"Thank you, honey-bon. You let me know if your something-something ends up being something concerning, ok?" Bonnie follows close behind her mom, watching as she pulls on her jacket and picks up her tea and breakfast before heading towards the door. "And you have a good day at school too. Tyler's picking you up, right?"
"No, I'm walking down to his house instead. His mom made cinnamon rolls, and I can only get one if I go in person. Have a good day too, I'll see you later."
── ⭑ ☆ ⭑ ──
Bonnie braced herself as Tyler hit a wide turn to get his van into the parking lot of Forks High. Her shoulder knocked into the stereo he had secured to the van's broken sliding door, and the bead curtain that framed the working door rattled and swayed.
The two had been best friends since kindergarten. Their fathers, who were both terrible at keeping track of time, were also in charge of picking up their toddlers from school. It only took a week's worth of late pick-ups for Bonnie and Tyler to take to playing at the park together while waiting for their fathers to remember that they exist.
Through the years, Tyler taught Bonnie how to play every one of his favorite sports.
After he learned how to ride a bike, Tyler taught Bonnie.
When he learned how to climb the tree in his front yard, he taught Bonnie.
He taught what it was like to have a big brother, even if he was younger than her.
And Bonnie taught Tyler how to slow down and be patient.
She showed him how to look at a painting and tell what type of paint was used.
She taught him how not to take a joke too far and when to apologize.
She taught him how to sit still while she gave him his first tattoo.
The two were attached at the hip for years now, and anyone who didn't know any better would've assumed they were dating until they paid close enough attention.
Because even though Tyler had a phase their freshman year of high school where he stared down every boy who looked at Bonnie for too long, it wasn't because he thought he had a claim over her. No, Tyler made sure that the guys steered clear of Bonnie because he knew she wasn't attracted to them in the slightest, even if she never told him.
Because sometimes, best friends learn these things just by paying attention.
"Ty, you've got to get better at driving this death trap. It's been two years, and I'm still not immune to getting whiplash."
Her best friend only laughs at her and mimes rolling the steering wheel in a complete 360 as he turns into a parking spot. The engine is turned off almost as soon as the van stops moving, and Tyler climbs into the back of the van to sit across from Bonnie.
They're half an hour early as usual, and Bonnie wriggles her fingers together as she watches Tyler pull a container of cinnamon rolls out of his bag, along with a smaller bag.
"Or, you could just get your license, Bee. I'll even let you drive my death trap every once in a while." The cinnamon rolls are tossed to Bonnie as Tyler opens up the smaller bag and dumps out its contents. "You want?"
"Yeah. Do you have a fork or something?" She's clicking the nails of her index finger and thumb as she eyes the center of both cinnamon rolls, considering for a moment before reaching to pull the center out of the first roll, "Actually, never mind."
"Yeah, never mind why the hell would I have a fork in here?" All Bonnie does is shrug with a mouthful of cinnamon goodness as she watches Tyler roll up the world's skinniest blunt. He's hunched over so much that his spine forms a perfect c.
"This is a bribe, by the way. I need you this weekend after the big game." Tyler twirls the blunt between two fingers like a drummer would with a drumstick before pulling out a lighter that Bonnie had painted for him as a birthday present.
On one side is a tiny version of Tyler's football jersey, and on the other is a painting of She-Ra.
Both the lighter and the blunt are passed to Bonnie, and Tyler takes the container full of picked-apart cinnamon rolls for himself.
"Need me for what?" Bonnie lights the blunt and inhales while she waits for an answer.
"There's a party. I'm gonna pimp you out." She chokes before she can exhale properly, and Tyler's leaning over to pat her on the back.
"Excuse me?"
"Not like that, Bee. Mike's older brother gave him a tattoo gun, and the guys on the baseball team want matching tatts for the playoffs. And since you're the best artist in Forks and my sister, I told them that I'd get you to do the tatts for twenty bucks a pop." Tyler's smiling, lazy, and proud while Bonnie tries to process what he just told her.
"How many people?" She passes the blunt to Tyler, and he's quick to take a hit.
"Fifteen." That's three hundred dollars. That's art supplies, cat food, and new shoes.
"And they all know that I've never done a tattoo before?"
"Yup, and they're still willing to pay you."
"Okay, I can do that." The blunt is passed back and forth one more time before it's gone, and Tyler nods his head towards the van door.
"Ready?"
"Not yet. Can I ask you something? What do you think about the Cullens?" The Cullen family had moved to Forks two years ago, and despite there being five high school-aged teenagers in the family, Bonnie only ever had classes with two of them.
Junior year, she had advanced algebra with Rosalie Cullen—the blonde girl never even looked at Bonnie, better yet, talked to her, so the only opinion she could really form was based on how often she answered questions in class. She was smart and pretty, and that's all Bonnie knew about her.
This year, Bonnie had a class with the girl from her dream, Alice Cullen. The class they shared was an eighth-period art class, but she was more likely to skip class and leave early with her brother Jasper than she was to go to class.
"The Cullens? I mean, Emmett's cool enough even though he won't play ball. But they're all a little weird sometimes. Could be the incest thing, could be something else."
"There's no incest thing, Ty, they're adopted, not blood related."
"So? It's like government incest, I don't know."
"You know what, never mind, unlock the door."
"No, wait, I'm sorry, Bee. Why are you interested in the Cullens? They've moved here like a thousand years ago." Tyler grabs Bonnie by the crook of her elbow and pulls the girl down to sit by his side.
"I'm just—. I don't know, wondering that's all."
"Wondering about what Bee. Come on, you never gossip, spit it out." With an arm flung across the girl's shoulders, he flexes his arm and jostles her around as if he's trying to shake the answer out of her.
"I'm not trying to gossip, Ty. I just—."
"No shot. You've got a crush, don't you, Bee? Which one is it? Wait, no, let me guess. It can't be Rosalie, you're not into tall, mean blondes. They're more my thing. Nope, it's the short one, right? The one who wears all the jewelry? What's her name, Alice? Yeah, she's definitely your type, Bee. You've always been into the real—."
"Oh shut up, Ty! Unlock the door unless you're gonna let me paint your nails while we talk about crushes." Bonnie's cheeks burned with embarrassment. For a moment, she hated how easily Tyler could see through her.
"Wait, no Bee, listen, I'm chill, ok, I swear. She's a little weirder than the rest of them, but she's also the nicest. I had a class with her last year, and I'd always miss it because of football, and she'd let me cheat off her homework every time. Even gave me the answers for the final and didn't ask for money."
He fumbles around for the keys as he's speaking, and the moment he finds them, the van beeps when the doors unlock.
"Plus, you're kind of weird too, Bee, so who knows, might be a match made in weird heaven." The two climb out of the van, and Tyler slams the door closed behind them as the first few cars pull into the high school parking lot.
"You're so sweet, Tyler. Carry my bag, you're walking me to class as an apology."
Bonnie Sinclair lived by her own weird little set of rules that made her life in Forks, Washington, painfully simple. But simplicity was preferred over the nauseating, vision-blurring migraines that came with more exciting life choices.
So, when she found out that doing certain things—following her weird little rules—got the migraines to stop, that's exactly what she did.
She kept them short and simple.
Dreams are for sleeping only— daydreaming and fantasizing about the future was useless when you already knew what was going to happen.
Lips stay zipped— her mom already knows enough and no one else would believe you so there's absolutely no reason to talk about it.
Live in the moment— Bonnie didn't do anything that involved trying to change the future. She didn't like to spend her days distracted by future possibilities, the unlimited list of things that could or could not happen. She didn't prep, plan, study, or practice.
She focused on the present and often thought about the past. The future would remain for when she was asleep. That was the only time she was allowed a glimpse into the future.
The dreams started when Bonnie was eight and they started off simple.
A mid summer nap curled up on the patio furniture where she'd wake up crying because of a nightmare where she fell off the monkeybars at school. That following autumn shed be sitting in the hospital with her mom picking out the color fr her cast.
At ten the dreams were more frequent and less important. Instead of broken bones, it was pop quizzes, substitute teachers and who was going to ask her to the school dance.
By her thirteenth birthday shed had a different dream every night.
A twisted ankle.
Jessica Stanley sticking gum in her hair.
Her gym teacher being pregnant.
Her mom opening an art studio in Seattle.
Her hamster dying.
Getting braces.
Her parents getting divorced.
Her dad winning the house and her mom winning her.
A full years worth of little glimpses into the future and every single one happened whether she tried to avoid it or not.
Since she'd experienced it firsthand, Bonnie decided that the future was carved into stone just like the past. It couldn't be changed, altered or avoided so she gave up trying.
── ⭑ ☆ ⭑ ──
Bonnies vision is flooded by inky black hair, pale skin and honey-gold eyes. Ice cold hands hold her hips and thumbs play with the thin lace that adorns the hem of her panties.
She blinks the sleep from her eyes and lifts her head off of her pillow, moving towards the mauve painted lips that are puckered in front of her.
The kiss is quick and chaste, like it was a common occurrence.
Bonnie leans in for another while the hands that hold her hips slide up, under her shirt and hold her rib cage.
This kiss lasts longer and Bonnie can taste the golden eyed girls mouth. The beesewax and berry flavored lipstick buffers the sweet taste of her mouth and Bonnie leans in for more.
She's curling her fingers into the girls short hair and trying her best to pull her closer, further into her mouth so she can taste her better, but the honey-eyed girl wont budge.
For a moment she's as still as stone and the next, shes pressing another one of her quick chaste kisses to Bonnies cheek. She smiles at how bright the mauve print looks against Bonnies brown skin as she pulls away.
Her hands linger under Bonnies shirt for a moment longer, fingers daring to wander higher up before those too, pull away.
"I brought a present for you Bon. Well I sent Rose to get it but thought of it, picked it out and paid for it so if anything Rose is just the mailman."
Bonnie finally sits up fully and watches as the girl with sweet mouth and pretty hair reaches for a small box that rests on the foot of her bed.
The box is small and rectangular but looks like it could be a present all on its own. Its deep crimson red and trimmed in gold leaf. The top and sides are covered in delicate painted leaves and one single brown bunny in the center.
The box is placed gently into her hands and Bonnie looks down at the girl who's now looking at her expectantly.
"I know you hate writing in cursive so I thought you could use this to sign all your art."
She's pulling the lid of the box up when her eyes open again and suddenly she's alone in her bedroom.
There's no pretty girl in her bed.
There's no mauve lipstick print on her cheek.
There's no present in her hands.
The only thing left is the memory of her dream and the taste of the girl on her tongue.
Bonnie had been having these dreams for ten years now and she'd never dreamed of anything romantic in the slightest.
But there was a first time for everything, and the buzzy high that always came after her dreams was present now as she slid out of bed and started getting ready for school and whatever the future might hold.
chris proposing to his girlfriend while they’re cuddling on the couch watching movies. it’s been a great day, chris finished working early and took his girl out shopping then dinner at a small family run restaurant. he’s just so happy and content with you in his arms in the living room of your new apartment and he cant help himself.
he’d look down at his love while she talks about whatever movie is playing completely oblivious to the pretty little ring he places on her lap. he’d give her thigh a little squeeze and she’d look down and that’s when she’d notice it.
there’s tears in her eyes when she looks up at him and the only words she can get out is, “you like me that much?”
chris let out a small laugh and go, “like you? baby i love you. will you let me love you forever?”
chris loves to be needed. he loves to be of service. all he wants is to be able to provide for the people he loves and that includes you.
he makes a point to tell you this often.
whenever he’s leaving to go to the studio in the early morning before you’re awake he’ll send you text ‘ just call me if you need anything’
when you’re out shopping together he’s quick to carry your bags and drive you around to whatever stores you want.
when you’re taking yourself out on a solo date he’ll slip his card into your wallet and press a kiss against your forehead.
“have fun on your date baby. i can’t wait to hear all about it later”
whenever you’re struggling to open something or you just want to see the muscles in his arms flex all you have to do is hold it in his direction and he’ll open it but still you look up at him with a smirk on you face as you ask, “channie can you open this please”
you know you don’t have to ask him for small things like this but you do anyway just to see his eyes sparkle at the words ‘channie please’ and the way he looks so proud to be able to respond with “of course” “yes” “i got it”
a/n: i hope you like this and if you want this for the other members please let me know <3
You would have to kiss him first.
But you’d be so used to him kissing you on the cheek and on the top of your head that when you finally reach up to press your lips against his there’s no nervous uncertainty at the back of your mind telling you to stop.
It would definitely be after one of you does something you’re proud of like winning an award, passing your finals, debuting, graduating university.
Or even something small like finally finding the shoes or book that you’ve been looking for for months now
He would grab you by the waist and pull you in close while you press soft little kisses all over his face
His big warm hands holding you firmly, thumbs rubbing circles in your skin
You’d either hold him by the waistband of his pants, gripping the sides of his sweatshirt or your arms around his neck
It doesn’t matter just as long as you’re able to keep him close to you
When you’re done he would still press a kiss to the top of your head and pull you into a big hug ~que the tears cause i miss channies room~
This story is 18+ because it contains/will contain the following
Smut, Violence, Conversations about Death, etc. I'll add more as I post more chapters.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy.
Read on Wattpad
Read on AO3
Teaser
The Siren was easily angered and held onto grudges for centuries. Her mind and body only ever harbored pain, grief, and every other sullen equivalent; there was no room for love in her body. And as she swam back into the water, she thought to herself that maybe that was why her first time learning of his existence was like ships that pass in the night rather than waves crashing along the shoreline.
Table of Content
Chapter 0: "The Prologue (Like Ships That Pass In The Night)"
😫ill make the table of contents for my Jasper fic Lovely Things and add it to my masterlist tomorrow. Until then you can read it on here, AO3, and wattpad
The Siren was old, and throughout her life she'd seen the deepest, most intriguing parts of the land and sea, and, as she wandered the earth, she watched human society ripen. She'd watched villages sprout into towns, blossom into villages, cities, and empires. Then she'd watch those same empires fall, castles crumble into rubble and dust under the weight of time.
It was their fault every time. Not once had she witnessed humans face destruction brought by anything other than more humans. She'd always thought that they were too frail creatures to be constantly making enemies of each other, especially when things far more dangerous were among them. And, for as much as they thought that they were at the top of the food chain, they were wrong.
That was until she came along, but even then, they had brought their own demise.
They're the ones that gave her a reason to step onto land in the first place.
They gave her a bone to pick, and that, paired with a severe case of henhouse syndrome, gave the siren a reputation that would last for as long as she lived.
But even after her quick and dirty first romp onto land hundreds of years ago, Magnolia still didn't spend much time topside. She thought—despite never being incarcerated—that it felt like a prison. The entire experience of being on land, walking around on two legs, and being surrounded by and forced to interact with humans was as dry as a chip.
It didn't require much effort, but every minute task and societal standard made the ever-present balancing act required when intermingling with humans feel monotonous. It didn't help that the way humans defined the word "civilized" was always in flux, as were their shallow opinions about who fit that definition.
Assimilating was all too much and too boring, so every short period of time she spent on land with them left her feeling on edge and had her swiftly returning to the water.
She enjoyed the 1700s, before all the cars and trains, when word of mouth was the main source of news, and even then, it traveled as slowly as molasses. That's when Magnolia did very little self-governing. She was able to exchange subtly for swiftness; instead of relying on the pretense that she was human or something close enough, Magnolia leaned into what made her a Siren.
There wasn't a need to pull her punches or hide herself away when no one could run for help, and papers took just a little too long to print. Humans were dumber, and their minds were weaker too; all it took was her even acknowledging them for the humans to do whatever Magnolia wanted of them. A nice house, the best clothes, citrus fruit, they'd even lie across a dining table and open themselves up for her to feast.
She wouldn't even have to say a word.
The Thrall was more than spoken words, and easier than a siren song. It's something that even as an infant, the Siren was able to do, and the strength only increased as she aged.
Thralling was an unseen force that pulled you in like the tide. It made everything make sense, and narrowed the world until the only reason to live was to make Magnolia happy. It was quick and easy, so even that got boring over time. Stronger creatures like Vampires, Werewolves, and even other Sirens—who would put up more of a fight against being thralled—were few and far between, but the overabundance of humans only gave her cattle to fight when what she really craved were creatures with more bite.
── ⭑ ☆ ⭑ ──
It was early 1939, and Magnolia didn't know why she felt the urge to step out of the Atlantic Ocean and onto a beach in Mexico.
She didn't recognize the old, deep-rooted instinct that called her onto land, and so she told herself that it was just a craving for citrus.
She went inland, straight towards the nearby lemons and limes that were beginning to ripen on the citrus trees. The sweet-tangy fruits were the only thing that closely resembled the taste of humans, so, after the darker moments of her time on land, she'd taken to indulging in the fruits instead.
But as she made her way further inland, the siren came across an old barn surrounded by silence and the thick scent of blood. She knew what was hidden within those barn walls immediately. Behind the thick, sickly sour smell of human blood gone bad was the sharper scent of venom-preserved flesh. The smell of vampires and old prey. Though beneath it all was one more scent, the only one that Magnolia cared about.
It was a scent that only brought forward memories of long battles and even longer journeys walked alone. That scent and whoever it belonged to was what called the Siren to land, and months too late. The scent was old and swept away easily with the wind.
Magnolia returned to the water soon after; she'd lost interest in the barn of vampires the moment she noticed how old the one that pulled her there was. Though despite herself, she'd remained closer to shore than he had previously in the hope that she'd come across it again.
Because after well over six centuries alive and spending the majority of that time in solitude, Magnolia had stopped considering that she'd have a mate, and she never even attempted to convince herself that she'd deserved one,
The Siren was easily angered and held onto grudges for centuries. Her mind and body only ever harbored pain, grief, and every other sullen equivalent; there was no room for love in her body. And as she swam back into the water, she thought to herself that maybe that was why her first time learning of his existence was like ships that pass in the night rather than waves crashing along the shoreline.
🧍🏾♀️i just played minecraft for 12+ hours every day since the update … im back to writing again first chapter for Lovey Things (jasper fic) and the next chapter of WAAS (carlisle fic) will be posted soon
no updates until i play the next minecraft update for a week or its equivalent (i played for almost 12 hours straight and im taking a break to eat a garlic knot then diving back in)
Emmett was blessed with the perfect team for a CoD LAN party.
Alice - trick shots all day everyday because why not show off when you can see the future.
Edward - takes 0 damage the entire time because he can see exactly where the other team is aiming.
Jasper - thinks using his gifts directly is a bit too much so he throws out insults until something hits a nerve and then sticks to it.
Emmett- clearest comms in the room. he leads the team like they’re actually in the military and the other team are always on edge with how stone faced and serious he is.
Esme is glad they found something else to do that doesn’t end up with them wrestling and breaking windows, walls and furniture. She also makes Alice trick-shot compilations.
Carlisle tried to play with them at one point but was banned by Emmett for playing “too much like a human”.
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