#nicola.

[of-aliens-and-cacti]

My yearly Halloween drawing! I switched styles, haha. Here’s the old version.

Find more of my OCs @of-aliens-and-cacti

[zaynandnicola]

3 || Nicola

“Zayn.” Both of her light colored eyes widened quickly at the statement of his name, she breathed out and let her hand grab against his forearm and direct him into the kitchen so that she could retreat from standing just behind the couch in which her curious eared daughter sat infatuated with her book. “I don’t want that to be talked about in front of her, she doesn’t need to hear that, she’s too young.” It was in whispers that she spoke, no matter of being in the other room, the words could travel and the last thing she wanted was the adolescent asking questions in terms of Zayn being her father, even if she was far too young to understand the word paternity. Nicola instantly peered around the small corner of the meek kitchen, noticing no disruption in Lilya’s distraction, giving her full reign to talk this out with the man she had known since she hit the age of eight. “Why are you asking me about this now? I told you, she’s Jay’s.” As much as she wanted the dismissal to be adequate enough for him to end the subject all together, she knew the solo artist better than that, the knew the chances were slim for such a easy acquittal. It was inevitable, but it wouldn’t come easy. The aspiring model was bound to put up a fight in the matter, because she held a strong distaste in her decision being something that messed up both Zayn and Sutton’s lives. In the small amount of time she spent with the Kardashian cousin and supermodel, she had grown to like her and understand the attachment Zayn had to her — Even if she could tell there was a distaste held for her and the circumstance at hand. The last thing she wanted was to drive any more tension or wedges between them, and two people with no romantic connection shouldn’t, however them sharing a child together would be more of an instant disruption. If it was true, if Lilya was truly his daughter, a lot about their lives would change.

[zaynandnicola]

1 || Nicola

The text message from a long time fixture in Nicola’s life was enough to make her heart drop into her stomach and raise bile to her throat, she knew the context without him even saying it. We need to talk was not a message to be taken lightly with someone there was still a string of questions in the air for. No matter how many times she said it, declared her daughter to belong to a separate member of the Kayani family, there was reasonable doubt. It lied heavier with every interaction between Zayn and Lilya, they were two peas in a pod together, their chemistry was undeniable. They shared blood in their veins, one way or another, but she was like a miniature copy of the Pakistani male — from her looks to her general outlooks. At the young age of four, she already brought creative aspects to her life, just as Zayn surrounded himself with. The toddler loved art and music, she constantly wanted to dive into those worlds and it only mimicked an array of the Bradford boy she knew when they were both young and adventurous. Jarir was her love, they were small and reckless, and he was hardly careful with her heart; however, she would have given him all – and she did. Jay still held a place inside of her, but as an adult she finally looked back on the way he treated her in a far different light, she was too naive to notice it at the time. But in his memory, in the situation of not making Zayn’s entire life changed, she gave herself the answer she wanted: Jay was Lilya’s father, that was end of story. That story had another chapter, because the persistence in his demeanor every time he stepped foot around the adolescent gave her all the signs she needed that he was questioning it far more than she expected. As the doorbell to her simple Los Angeles apartment sounded, she patted the head of her daughter whom was more than consumed into her coloring book, and rushed to it knowing who was on the other side. She blew a breath from her mouth, closing her eyes before she finally forced it open and stepped aside without even a request to let him inside. “Zayn, come in.” The words were so calmed in her thick british accent, one that always held a small twang from her French roots and growing up with that being the language of her household. “What did you want to talk about?” Fibbing out the question, the blonde up-and-coming model shut the door behind her and tried to force a smile that showed no worry, even if it was written all over the inside of her.

[nicformeasure]